CHAPTER IV.
Theday after our hero’s return to London, he went in quest of Sir Edward Hamden, and had the pleasure to learn that he was in town. Hearing at what hour he was to be at home, he returned to his house, and had an interview. Sir Edward told him, that his chief object in visiting the metropolis, at such a season, was to solicit the advice and assistance of his friend Hamilton. He had only arrived the day before, and finding Hamilton was out of town, had resolved to remain a few days, in hopes of his return. The subject on which he wished to consult him, he said, was of the most delicate nature, and filledhim with great anxiety and distress. He then opened to his friend the fall of his unhappy sister, and among many circumstances, which Hamilton well knew before, mentioned that Raymond was so passionately attached to his wife, that notwithstanding all that happened, he was disposed to forgiveness, and to impute her misconduct to his own want of caution, in not preventing an intimacy between her and a notorious directress of gambling fraud. “Indeed I so far agree with him, that poor Caroline owes her ruin to the baneful example of this unprincipled banditti. Every woman that defrauds at gaming will and must be wicked in any other way that temptation may happen to prompt; and she who cheats at cards to gratify her avarice, will, if opportunity offer, and fear do not restrain, make as free with her chastity as with her honesty.” “Ihope, Sir Edward, for the honour of female continence, that your theory is erroneous; because, if true, it would make so many now of fair character no better than prostitutes.” “Nay, there are degrees in both, and I should reason by analogy; there are many who would finesse or shuffle, or pack at cards, who would not venture to use loaded dice. These I should conclude might intrigue with a friend, without publicly exposing their reputation; but mine is more than theory, I never yet met a lady who cheated at cards, but would have done something else, except old women that have passed these kinds of amusements. But to return to our subject. Raymond is very desirous of bestowing forgiveness on his misguided wife; he, however, cannot bring himself immediately to live with her. He proposes going for some time to the continent, and that she shouldretire to the country, but an obstacle for the present has arisen, the unhappy woman has eloped, and we in vain have endeavoured to discover her retreat. It is for that purpose I wish your advice and assistance.” While the baronet was about to explain in what way Hamilton could render service, our hero interrupted him, and informed him of all that had happened upon the road, and very strongly testified the penitence of Mrs. Raymond. He could not prevail on Hamden immediately to see her; nevertheless the proposed arrangement was soon concluded, and the repentant sinner repaired to her asylum.
After the completion of this business, Hamilton returned with increased vigour to his literary pursuits. The lives of men of letters, though often instructive in operation, progress, and result, are commonly barren in incident: while hewas preparing the first part of his grand essay for the public, no private occurrences happened of sufficient importance to constitute a part of our narrative. One benefit he found, an author of sense may derive from writing on a continuous subject, within the reach of his abilities, and the range of his knowledge; while he attempts to inform and instruct others, he informs and instructs himself. The task which he undertook happened to require research and investigation, as well as deduction and exhibition, and improved his own knowledge and power of reasoning, whilst he endeavoured to communicate knowledge and instruction to others. At length the work made its public appearance, and established the literary character of its author. It demonstrated to the public the force and extent of his talents, the accuracy and range of his knowledge, the depth of hisphilosophy, which though yet more theoretical in several doctrines and opinions, than is consistent with fact and practice, manifested on the whole, that strength of discrimination, completeness of comprehension, boldness of conception, and fertility of invention, which when matured by experience, becomes soaring genius, guided by beneficial wisdom. The arrangement evinced a mind that at once perceived the relations and dependencies of parts, and grasped the whole. The language to the essential qualities of clearness, strength, and expressiveness, added the agreeable accompaniments of elegance and harmony. Fame and emolument did not fail to follow distinguished merit, arising from exertions on a subject which had been judiciously chosen, with a view at once to temporary popularity and permanent importance. With the public voice concurredthose private individuals, whose opinions he chiefly regarded. A Robertson and a Gibbon, a Watson, a Fergusson, and a Burke, spoke its praises, while jackalls only of jacobinism barked disapprobation. A Strongbrain bore his testimony to the excellence of the production with discriminate applause; while detractors and envy attested the same truth in the obloquy of the dunces, the impotent babbling of the enraged and contemptible Doctor Dicky Scribble. Scribble lost a good deal of his own time in going from coffeehouse to coffeehouse, to abuse Hamilton’s production, and in the same period might have manufactured two or three books, by his usual drudgery. Hamilton enjoyed the feeling so pleasing to an author, in the assurance that his literary fame was established. Most of the reviews bore high testimony to the merits of Hamilton’s work; two, indeed,censured it, one the property of a bookseller, who was bringing out a publication on the same subject; and another that was supported by a club of democratic dissenters; but many of the contributors having either gone, orbeen sentto parts beyond seas, and Tom Paine and Thelwal being less in vogue, it has since been crushed. The jacobins, both French and English, reviled the book for its political principles, nevertheless they could not avoid allowing it literary excellence.
About this time Hamilton observed that Charlotte was often pensive, and even to dejection. Making this observation to Maria, she told him she conjectured the reason to be the absence and silence of John Mortimer. The fact was, Mortimer was a very aspiring, ambitious young man, and having in France rendered essential service to theBritish government, especially by developing schemes of political missionaries for the propagation of revolutionary principles, he had become a great favourite with the British ambassador, and was not without hopes of a seat in parliament. He had been captivated by the charms of Miss Hamilton, but he was not so deeply enamoured that ambition did not give him a contrary pull. He was a very handsome fellow, and much admired among the French ladies, in whom political regeneration had not produced moral: he was greatly addicted to gallantry, and nothing is more destructive of virtuous love than habitual dissipation when at a distance from the beloved object.
Louisa Primrose had been extremely affected by the marriage of Hamilton, and her mother, to amuse her by change of scene, took a trip to the continent.At Paris she frequently met with young Mortimer; by degrees became much more chearful; and at last was extremely fond of his company. Mortimer thought her a fine girl, though not equal to Charlotte, and he knew she had such a fortune as could raise him to the height that he wished; but though a man of the world, Mortimer was also a man of honour, and therefore resolved to adhere to his promises to Charlotte, unless released by herself. He therefore very fairly stated to her his situation in a letter. Dignity, pride, and every elevated sentiment combined in determining her to grant the release that he appeared to desire, and she did it without any reproach, or a single expression that could indicate either regret or displeasure. Her magnanimity, however, was extremely painful to herself, and was the source of the disconsolation that her friends remarked;but she would not communicate either her sentiments or their cause; a vigorous understanding, and firmness of mind, by degrees enabled her to regain her chearfulness. Mortimer in the course of the winter married Miss Primrose and her five thousand a year.
Our hero stuck very close to his literary and juridical pursuits. He kept very little company of a Sunday; Sir Edward Hamden generally spent the day at his house, or he at Sir Edward’s. Often they prevailed on Strongbrain to be one of the company, and well as they knew him, he at every visit astonished them by the grasp of his genius. They all were friendly to the French revolution, though in different degrees. Hamilton, who besides being a literary man by profession was young, regarded what he considered the triumph of liberty with exultation, and was pleased with astate of things in which he apprehended that intellect was obtaining its native superiority, and trampling every distinction but wisdom and virtue. Hamden, with all his personal merit, not without a sense of rank and birth, was inimical to the destruction of privileged orders. Strongbrain thought the revolution too violent to suit the gradual variations of the human character, and too democratical to suit the mad volatility of the French. Hamilton observed, that a very rapid change now took place in the political sentiments of the country, and with the action and re-action of the press, affected our literature; that though one of its chief objects was innovation in the church and state, its influence extended much farther; and that not only in institutions, but manners, principles, sentiments, thoughts, and even the powers of nature, the great object was innovation.He traced this spirit of boundless change from its first origin, in that superstition and despotism which genius discovered; but observed, that in avoiding great evils it ran into much greater. He reviewed the efforts of Rousseau, Voltaire, and Helvetius, and the various concurring causes of the French revolution, and marked the progress in other parts of Europe, but especially in England, of the innovating spirit which it was now calling into action, and attended peculiarly to the literature which it excited. He admired the genius of Priestly and Price; and though he disapproved of their enmity to the establishment, yet he revered their high spirit of liberty; and if he questioned their prudence, he gave them full credit for sincerity. Though a friend to the church his regard to it was rather political than religious; if he veneratedsome, and respected many of its members, it was for individual qualities, and not official situation. He profoundly admired Watson, without doing homage to the Bishop of Landaff. He highly estimated the force and science of a Horseley, without adopting in every case the authority of the hierarch. In the classical elegance of a Douglas, the critical acuteness of a Hurd, and the christian simplicity of a Porteous, he valued the men, and not simply the mitre. He himself was rather attached to literary dissenters, whom he conceived to be zealous promoters of that liberty which Cambridge had taught him to prize. Deeply conversant in philosophy, and thoroughly acquainted with the laws and practice of reasoning, he was extremely fastidious in matters of authority, and in assaying an opinion paid little regard to its currency. If he erred it was frommisinformation of fact, and not feebleness of investigation, or falsity of principle. Conceiving that political freedom was necessary to the best exertions of men; and that the French had long been the victims of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny, he rejoiced at what he thought their emancipation. He admitted that some of their proceedings were extremely violent, but imputed the outrages to a ferment of enthusiasm, which would gradually subside into rational freedom. As many of the wars of the French monarchs had arisen from the ambition of the court, he hoped that when that cause was removed no other would operate in hostility to his country. Somewhat tinged with the doctrines of the œconomique philosophers, he thought the human race susceptible of much greater perfection than it had hitherto attained, and in the refinement of speculation conceivedsuch intellectual and moral improvement might result from the dissemination of liberty, as would prevent the frequent recurrence of wars. Though he disapproved of Price’s exultation over the fallen monarch, as indiscreet and liable to misconstruction, yet he himself derived it from a liberal spirit and comprehensive benevolence; which regarding an individual on the one hand, and twenty-five millions of individuals on the other, preferred the happiness which he conceived to be attained by the many to the power which he saw to be wrested from the one. He therefore approved of the motives and spirit of Price, without implicitly assenting to his positions. Such was the state of his political sentiments when Burke produced his extraordinary work. Captivated by the poetry, and charmed by the eloquence of this wonderful production, he in hisfirst reading hurried through it without waiting to examine its reasoning and philosophy. Like the magic pen of Shakespeare this performance, whithersoever it expatiated, carried with it his fancy and passions. He saw English votaries of the French revolution, in one page terrible, in the next contemptible, and in the third disgusting, now as tigers panting after slaughter and carnage, now as grashoppers teasing with their importunate chink; then a loathsome object full of blotches and putrified sores. Here he regarded chivalry as the great parent of social happiness, lamented its age as for ever gone; there he viewed Marie Antoinette as in beauty beyond the lot of human excellence; and next as in pity beyond the lot of human suffering. By the author’s luminous torch he saw her bearing her son to the loyal officers; he viewed theParisian mob breaking into her apartments, and the swords of ruffians drawn for her destruction, and lamenting followed her dragged in triumph by a banditti of ruffians. The scene being changed he was carried into the National Assembly. There the dramatist exhibited pedlars and excisemen engaged in financial legislation; country curates as new modelling the church, and country attornies as establishing a code of laws for the government of an empire; with a side prospect of fishwomen taking their seats in the senate, while a mob hallooed behind the scenes. The imagery and pathos of the bard and orator made the first impression. Reflecting, however, that the production was not exhibited for the purpose of theatrical effect, but intended to present facts, enforce conviction, and influence conduct, he returned to examine it in those lights. Heacknowledges that when he first reviewed his own fascination he imputed it to the spell of the author’s genius, and supposed that investigation would convince him that its merit was merely poetic and oratorical. He therefore resolved, in his next reading, to view it as a series of reasoning and of philosophy. The connection of argument he did not immediately perceive; separate links were very massive and strong, but he frequently could not discover the juncture; and as the links lay huddled before him, with a vast variety of colouring and decorations, he thought them detached and unconnected pieces; but unfolding and viewing the whole, he saw that they formed one continuous chain, which might have been more simple and regular, but could not well be stronger. Expanded and profound wisdom he saw in the principles and deductionsrespecting intellectual, moral, political processes and operations, and the influence of religion on the wisdom, virtue, and happiness of individuals and societies. He was by no means, however, convinced that the French revolutionists were such men, either in character or condition, as the author described, and therefore could not entirely admit the justness of his conclusions, or the probable fulfilment of his predictions. He was, however, staggered in his opinion of the French revolution, and resolved to avoid forming any final judgment until it should be farther known by events. He still had no apprehensions that it could possibly produce any bad effects upon Britain. If it were to prove the excellent system of mixed liberty, an order which some of its earliest votaries had sought, the British must love and cherish it, asif not similar in detail, analogous in principle and object to their own. If on the other hand it proved the bloody and ferocious anarchy which Mr. Burke predicted, no Briton, of either patriotism or property, could be so frantic as to wish a change from happiness to misery. But as he attended to the varying state of opinion and sentiment, he began to apprehend that not a few in the prevalent eagerness for change were becoming votaries of revolution.
Among literary men, with very few exceptions, even able and learned writers were friendly to a change of political system, and of the much more numerous class of writers that were neither able nor learned, at least three-fourths of writers became enemies to the establishment. Among these were the lowest retainers of learning. Book-makers, news-gatherers, paragraph-joiners, collectorsand retailers of puns, poetry, and jokes, scrap-rakers, and other pioneers of literature, were to a man democratic. In the jacobin clubs literary men possessed great influence, and many who were, or fancied themselves literary men, here expected, that if a revolution should take place in England, they should have the direction of affairs. But the work of Thomas Paine, which now made its appearance, most completely unhinged loyalty and patriotism in the breasts of great numbers of professed votaries of literature, and many others who made no claims to learning; and the effect of that noted production contributed much more powerfully to wean our hero from approbation of revolutionary doctrines, than the deepest wisdom of Burke himself. Perhaps, indeed, there never was a writer who more completely attained the art of imposing and impressing nonsenseon ignorant and undistinguishing minds, as sense and sound reasoning; more fitted for playing on the passions of the vulgar, for gaining their affections by gratifying their prejudices, and through those affections procuring their assent to any assertion which he chose to advance. His manner was peculiarly calculated to impress and affect such objects. The coarse familiarity of his language was in unison with vulgar taste; the directness of his efforts, and boldness of his assertions, passed with ignorance for the confidence of undoubted truth. But it was not only the manner of his communication, but the substance of his doctrine, that was peculiarly pleasing to the lower ranks. Vanity, pride, and ambition, are passions which exist with as much force in the tap-room of an ale-house as in a senate. When peasants, labourers, and journeymen mechanicswere told that they were as fit for governing the country as any man in parliament, it was a very pleasing idea; it gave an agreeable swell to their self-importance. When farther informed that they were not only qualified for such high appointments, but also, if they exerted themselves, had the means of attaining them; this was still better: it brought power, money, and luxury within their fancied reach, and might induce them to call for an extraordinary pot, to be afterwards paid from the proceeds of their preferment. Besides the completely ignorant and vulgar, there was another numerous set, to whom Paine’s works were peculiarly gratifying; and that was those who, without any original education, got hold of scraps of learning; who, having no general idea of the circle of arts and sciences, of the compartments of literature, fancied thatthe little knowledge in their own possession constituted the principal portion of human learning.
The generosity of the English, notwithstanding the distinguishing good sense of the nation, renders them peculiarly liable to imposture. Hence arises a temptation to quacks of every kind, and numbers of that species arise that know no more of what they profess, than Drs. Solomon and Brodum know of medicine; the coal-heaving teacher of methodism knows of morality and religion; or the missionary jugglers, who pester Scotland, and endeavour to sow discord, do of the gospel of peace; or the hymn manufacturers for the Evangelical Magazine, know of sense and poetry; or Dr. Dicky Scribble of the many and every subject which he undertakes to handle. In literature, quackery is not less common than in vendingeither pills or methodistical exhortations. A shopkeeper or mechanic finds his craft not answer his purpose, he takes to the literary line, begins with collecting the lower branches of intelligence for newspapers, enquires whose horse ran away in Hyde Park, what chaise was damaged by a stage-coach on the road between Kentish-town and Mother Redcap’s, what drunken bricklayer fought with a drunken blacksmith near the Jews’s Harp. These articles reviewed and respelt by the editor, constitute the first step of the literary novitiate. Next he scrapes acquaintance with footmen; when grand dinners, routes, balls, or assemblies are bestowed, he attends in the halls, takes a lift of the company, and in his report informs the public, among many distinguished personages of both sexes,weparticularly noticed the following, &c. &c. Going from place to place,ourscholarmay, in the course of an evening, acquire a great variety of suchlearning. This is a more advanced post, but there are higher in store; he is next promoted to be nomenclator of the persons who resort to court. He makes acquaintance with the yeomen of the guards, they, onproperapplication, repeat to him the names; on the stairs he enlarges his acquaintance with footmen, and is able to pick up anecdotes of families; he learns who and who are together, and becomes such an adept in composition as to dress out a bit of scandal. He is able to fetch and carry for Blackball, and besides his periodical labours can venture a little in the anecdote way. Having become well acquainted with fashionable faces, he is next sent to the theatres, and by reading the newspaper criticisms becomes something of a critic himself. To extendhis views of dramatic literature, he betakes himself to the Garrick’s Head, and becomes a humble listener of the players, afterwards retails their jokes as his own; there he forms his estimate of dramatic poetry, studies the dramatic censor, and becomes a theatrical critic. Perhaps now he may rise to be a parliamentary reporter, and if he do, of course he becomes a political philosopher and a statesman; and in those days when debating societies were in vogue, he was also an orator, or we still may be if admissible to public meetings, especially those in which dinner and wine precede deliberation and eloquence. Now he undertakes political essays, or even pamphlets; behold our journeyman, without any learning, human or divine, set up for an author, and many are such members of the republic of letters.
Another sets out from a point somewhatmore akin to learning, begins as porter’s boy in the vestibule of the muses, or to speak less figuratively, opens asa printer’s devil. He takes one of two courses, or both, aspires at being a compositor, or a reader. In such occupations, if tolerably sharp, he acquires a much better education than many professed men of letters; he becomes acquainted with spelling, and even receives an insight into higher parts of grammar; is tolerably correct in ordinary language. A person of this kind, if he be steady, becomes extremely useful in his own line; but should he not be steady, he has recourse to the profession of letters, offers his services to a magazine, and not for mere collections of occurrences, like the recorder of run-away horses, and boxing matches, but deals in selections, and also originals. He becomes a literary critic and a reviewer, nay, even rises tobe an editor, and gradually acquires such celebrity in that occupation, that he is run upon, and perhaps distinguished by the title of Editor Atall. Somewhat higher than these in their outset, are persons who having been bred to learned professions, especially law and medicine, in which it is very difficult to get on without ability, knowledge, and skill, find things will not answer, and being unoccupied by briefs or consultations, betake themselves to the profession of letters. A man has been called to the bar, but finds that at Westminster-hall, thoughmany are called but few are chosen, therefore he takes to the instruction of mankind through newspapers and magazines. A professor of medical art and science becomes a doctor of medicine, but finds his degree does not procure a demand for his prescriptions, therefore he offers his advice, not to the sick,but to those who are in health. Numerous are the recruits in the literary ranks, from counsellors and physicians, who, unable to procure clients and patients, have sought refuge in the occupation of authors. It may be naturally asked, Are not unsuccessful clergymen in the same situation? To this the answer is obvious, and indeed trite. Success, good or bad, is not in a clergyman the consequence of qualifications, good or bad, with the same probability as in the other learned professions; the recovery or defence of our property we will not trust to an insufficient lawyer; the recovery of our health we will not trust to an incapable physician; but our spiritual concerns we readily entrust, without much investigation of the competency of the guide. High fees are bestowed on the most eminent professional men, but rich livings are oftenbestowed upon blockheads, and besides, clergy who are not able to rise by their abilities, and have not interest to compensate the deficiency, have a never-failing resource in becoming masters of academies. Another reservoir, that for many years has diffused plentiful supplies of authors, is dissent from the established church. Scarcely a dissenting minister is to be found, who is not a professed author. Of these, two were very able and learned men, and a few others respectable, but much the greater number are far from having any pretensions to genius and erudition, and most of them, whether able or weak, the votaries of visionary reveries, instead of solid and substantial wisdom; and no one class has been so productive of incapable, illiterate, and trifling authors, as the non-conformists. In addition to these, were your sentimental writers, who regardedthe supreme happiness of mankind, as consisting in the possession and gratification of fine sensibility, who decried all restraint as irksome to the feelings; these figured away in plays and novels, and poems and fables and tales, abounded in prettinesses and pathos, and many other qualities, and merely wanted sense, virtue, and piety. Instances of these and many other kinds, will readily suggest themselves, and scarcely one of the literary quacks, but had knots of admirers, who regarded him or her as a shining light, and implicitly followed as a guide. In such a predisposition for the reception of nonsense, and especially innovating nonsense, Tom Paine’s book was wonderfully adapted for circulation.
Many were dabblers in what they supposed metaphysics, for whom Paine provided his distinctions and definitions, in such a way as to give them a notion,that when they were repeating his words, they were pouring forth philosophy. He bestowed on them, with a liberal hand, hisimprescriptible rights, organization, general will, attaint upon principles, and many other phrases, from which his votaries thought themselves as much instructed, as the under grave-digger in Hamlet supposed himself from the learned distinctions of the upper. To a man who should estimate the probable reception of opinions, solely by their truths, it would appear extremely wonderful how so nonsensical jargon came ever to have any currency. Recollection of history, however, and attention to mankind, prevents surprise, that even Paine’s declamations were applauded. History, indeed, and even the history of our own country, shews us, that Tom Paine, extravagant as he is, is far from being new. Our hero remarked, that there was awonderful resemblance between Tom Paine and John Cade; Jack maintained the same doctrine of equality and rank, and as he could not raise himself to the level of men of merit and abilities, his next best expedient was to pull them down to his level. Shakespeare, who so thoroughly knew the human mind in all its vagaries, describes John Cade, John Holland, George Bevis, &c. as speaking not only the sentiments, but almost the very language which Paine has since used. Says Paine, “All men are equal; all artificial distinctions, such as rank, title, and corporate bodies, are contrary to natural equality, and the rights of man!” Hear we John Holland and George Bevis.
“Holland.Well, I say, twas never a merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
Bevis.O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
Holland.The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
Bevis.Nay more, the King’s council are no good workmen.
Holland.True, and yet it is said—labour in thy vocation; which is as much as to say, let the magistrates be labouring men,and therefore shouldWEbe magistrates.”
We may observe a vastsimilarityof policy between John Cade himself and Tom Paine. Says Paine, “Down with your lords and commons, and kings and bishops, destroy them all: pull down your universities, and cathedrals, and corporations; down, down with them all!” Cade had long before anticipated the same exhortations. “Go, (says he,) and set London-bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn down the towertoo.—Go, some, and pull down the Savoy; others to the Inns of Court; down with them all.—Burn all the records of the realms;my mouth shall be the Parliament of England, and hence-forward all things shall be in common.”
The arguments of Tom Paine were totally inapplicable, not only to this, but to any existing society. The proposed experiment could not be tried but among savages; and among them equality could not long be preserved. The strong, the courageous, active, and enterprising, would have the means of subsistence, accommodation, and security, in a greater degree, than the feeble, the timid, the inert, and indolent. This absurdity easily escaped detection by the class of readers among whom the work was most studiously circulated. When John Cade proposed that the conduit should run with claret for the first year after his subversionof the existing government, John Holland and George Bevis were not struck with the impossibility of the proposal being put in execution, but delighted with the idea that they might now drink wine, and be as great as lords. “Be brave then,” says Cade, “for your captain is brave, and vowsREFORMATION. There shall be, in England, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hoop’d pot shall have two hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small-beer! All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be—(All.God save your majesty!)—there shall be no money;ALLshall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel themALLin one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.” Cade’s admirers were, no doubt, delightedat the thought of having meat, drink, and raiment, at free cost, and in their joy forgot to enquire how Cade was to have means of so extensive beneficence. As Paine, as well as Cade,vowed reformation, every one’s fancy framed reforms in what particularly concerned himself: the journeyman shoe-maker found that hitherto his wages were in proportion to his work; through Tom Paine he expected great wages with very small work. The amateurs of gin and whisky expected, that through Tom Paine the revenue would be abolished, and they would have their favourite beverage at less cost. The division of property, too, many of them expected would not only lessen their work, and increase their favourite enjoyments, but enable them to live and revel without working at all. In short, weakness, and ignorance of understanding,vanity, pride, love of idleness, and luxury, and the hope of plunder, concurred with the active and incessant endeavours of democratic underlings, in rendering so extravagant, impudent, absurd, and mischievous, a publication palatable among numbers of the lower ranks. Discontent, malignant hatred of a government in which they themselves were not promoted according to their fancied merits, made others encourage the writings and principles of Paine, however much they might have despised his illiterature and sophistry. But not the ignorant only, writers of respectable talents and erudition declared the ravings and vagaries of Paine to be the invincible energy of truth and sense, to combine history and philosophy. Such especially was the opinion of the Analytical reviewers, who had great influence among numerous classes of British subjects; and the followingcontrast between Burke and Paine exhibits the prominent features of the sentiments and opinions which in the last ten years of the eighteenth century had such a powerful effect on the literature of our country. “Each of them interests our feelings, but in a different manner; elegant and declamatory, Mr. Burke seduces us along by the charms of his eloquence: plain, but forcible, Mr. Paine carries us away with him by the invincible energy of truth and sense. Fanciful and excursive, Mr. Burke delights the imagination by the beauty of his metaphors, and the splendour of his ornaments; while his opponent holds our judgment captive by the native vigour of his arguments, the originality of his sentiments, and the pointedness of his remarks. Mr. Burke is the polished and playful courtier, who dances in his chains; Mr. Paine is the stern republican,who exults in his liberty, and treats with equal freedom the monarch and the peasant. In a word, without subscribing implicitly to every principle which our author advances, we cannot in justice withhold this testimony to the work before us, that it is one of the most curious, original, and interesting publications, which the singular vicissitudes of modern politics have produced. Independent of its value as a polemical work, it is truly excellent and useful in an historical view. In it the springs and sources of the French revolution are traced with the acuteness and perspicacity of a Tacitus; his information bears its authority upon the face of it, and almost convinces by the weight of its internal evidence.” Such notions disseminated among great numbers that were totally incapable of judging, produced very general impression. “Nobility,(it was said,) is an institution that could only be reconciled to a state of barbarism. It is a distinction equally impolitic and immoral, worthy of the times of ignorance and of rapine, which gave it birth; is a violation of the rights of that part of the nation that is deprived of it; and as equality becomes astimulustowards distinction, so on the other hand this is the radical vice of a goverment, and the source of a variety of evils. It is impossible that there should be any uncommon instances of virtue in a state, when recompences belong exclusively to a certain class of society, and when it costs them no more to obtain these, than thetrouble of being born. Amongst this list of privileged persons, virtues, talents, and genius, must of course be much less frequent than in the other classes, since without the possession of any of these qualities, they who belongto it are still honoured and rewarded. Those who profit by this absurd subversion of principles, and those who lose by this unjust distribution of favours, which seem to have grown into a right, cannot have any other than false, immoral, and pernicious ideas concerningmerit. The clergy are a body which subsist by deception. The establishment of a predominant church is prejudicial to the peace and welfare of a country. Whoever has any knowledge of the human heart; whoever is convinced of the right every man has to think for himself, though there are many who renounce it; whoever has remarked the impression which a superstitious education makes upon mankind, how it weakens the understanding, fosters holy pride, and pious hatred; whoever attends to the great abuse, which many of those who call themselves ministers of thetrue church, frequently make of exclusive privileges, which the law confers upon them, will readily acknowledge, that it would be much better for the community, if every man were permitted, without interruption or controul, to follow the dictates of his own fancy, whatever these might be. The church wants reform, and they never will be brought to reform themselves, therefore the surest care for their defects is their subversion as a separate order. The destruction of the clergy is one necessary means for the perfection of society.—Monarchy is a most absurd institution, it is quite inconsistent with that equality that is both the right and the perfection of human nature. Why should any one man be superior to another?” Is it not very hard that one man should be six feet two inches high, with broad shoulders, and muscular limbs, when another is onlyfive feet, with narrow shoulders, and puny limbs? It may be answered, God and nature have ordered it so, and have made great inequalities in all their works; but it is the business of philosophers to correct God and nature; and effectually to prevent civil and political inequalities, let there be none in nature. Buffon informs us, that five feet seven is the average height of adult Europeans: then get the bed of Procrustes, so only can you equalize stature; and the experiment would not be more impracticable than an attempt to equalize talents for government.
But a noted argument in favour of the destruction of established governments was, that complete democracy would be much cheaper than any mixed government which contained a portion of monarchy. If the chief perfection of society were cheapness, by living inhovels, feeding on roots, drinking water, the house and window tax might be saved, also the land and malt tax, and both ordinary and extraordinary imposts upon port-wine; but habit and civilization have produced a liking for accommodations that may be not absolutely necessary. In civil society we do not estimate smallness of cost as a supreme good, the same holds in political establishments. Institutions are not good merely for being low priced, their goodness depends upon the aggregate of secure and permanent benefit, which they admit. The great proof of the benefit of revolution as an expedient of economy, was the savings that the new order of things had produced from France. “In consequence of the revolution,” said the prophets of economy, “the people will have much less to pay, and republican France, for cheapness, is amodel for the imitation of other countries. For all these reasons the nobility, hierarchy, and monarchy, ought to be entirely destroyed. But such subversion is only a partial establishment of equality; every species of separate right implies inequality, and therefore ought to be abolished. All things should be in common; the destruction of kings, lords, and bishops, is only a means leading to division of property, and unrestrained gratification of passions, as the great end:” But as in Britain there was a very strong attachment to the establishments of the country, of which the aggregate result was by experience demonstrated to be supremely beneficial by the votaries of revolution, the first and grand object to be compassed was, to render the people desirous of change; while therefore the more profound and designing sought to effect subversion of establishments, inorder to erect new fabrics, that might be subject to their own command, they found most active instruments in enthusiastic partisans of indefinite innovation, and especially in literary associates, who readily joined in supporting theories which appeared to them well fitted to extend the sway of intellectual powers, and to attach power and pre-eminence to that species of talents which they conceived themselves to possess. Proceeding on the simple principle, that good was constituted by alteration, various writers, including some of considerable ingenuity, chiefly directed their attention to change, that is all the change which their literature could effect. Ingenuity, decorated nonsense and absurdity, the fine spun theories of Joel and Anne, Croft and German literature, powerfully contributed to the deviation of very inferior writers, from common sense and experience. Inthe literary, as in other classes, a very great number judged and acted not from original conviction and determination, but from example; and many were merely driven round in Tom Paine’s political mill, without any comprehension of the tendency and effects of the labours in which they were employed. They declaimed against the usurpation of establishments, merely because others did so before them. These pretended investigators of human right, and explainers of human happiness, considered the Rights of Man, merely because the consideration was fashionable; and if the doctrines of the Pope’s supremacy had been in vogue, would have been the ardent partizans of a Guise, a Lorrain, and an Alva, and would have praised the massacres of August 24th, 1572, as readily as of August 10th, 1792. In literature, indeed, aristocracy is very prevalent; thereare chieftains, and there are numerous tribes of retainers, whose intellectual nourishment is derived from some lord paramount. At this time, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Priestley, were the liege lords of many literary vassals, while Paine and others acted as the trumpeters to collect the powers, and summon them to the charge. The vassals did not enquire into the justice of the cause, they deemed it their chief glory to swell the muster-roll of their commanding officer. Hence there was such a number of combatants on the side of the innovating champions. The leaders of subversion attacked the bulwarks and defenders of our political fortress, because they wished to lay it prostrate; the followers, because their commanders prompted and encouraged their efforts. Helvetius, or Price, fought for victory, their humble coadjutors for Helvetius, or for Price—Principes provictoria pugnant; comites pro principe. In the same way it was in the reign of Anne, and George I. some eminent writers took to poetry and criticism, and many scores took to poetry and criticism after them, and humbly tried to ape their betters, as waiting-maids and milliners, footmen or hair dressers, endeavouring to imitate the deportment of ladies or of gentlemen, and would have you suppose them to be persons of fashion. Lord Bacon has observed, that as people that have no substance of their own, and are unable or unwilling to labour, must either beg or steal from somebody else, so must those who undertake to deliver judgment, or write books without a knowledge of the subject; and if persons do steal, they will certainly try to lay their hands on the goods that may be most readily disposed of among the receivers of their stolen commodities.Tom Paine stole many of his materials from the French writers, and some from their able co-operators in England; but Tom was really so dexterous a manufacturer, that he made his political pieces have the appearance of originals. But most of his successors merely copied and repeated his sayings. Whitfield hitting the temper of the times, framed a new theory of religion, which found many votaries: Whitfield had genius, but a hundred speakers and writers retailed his commodities from tabernacles, joint-stools, cart-sheds, or written sermons, pamphlets, or exhortations. So were the new theories of politics, which originated in misemployed genius, bandied about among speakers and writers of no genius; and as a transmogrified coal-heaver, or a vender of quack medicines, might retail from his chapel the doctrines of Whitfield, and bring in, as a proof ofprovidence, a pair of breeches instead of a leg of mutton[6]; so a blacksmith could leave his anvil for his political pulpit, and vend the quack medicines of Tom Paine.
But though revolutionary politics diffused themselves over great numbers of the ignorant votaries of literature, they extended to many others of a very contrary description, and efforts of talents and erudition were wasted in supporting extravagant paradoxes, pernicious principles, and wild theories, that could have informed and instructed mankind by valuable reasonings and inculcations; and our hero had occasion to see the effect of the Turgot theory of the perfectibility of man fully exemplified. The English champion of this doctrine was St. Leon, a writer of very considerable ingenuity, who, with the œconomiquephilosophy of the French school, undertook to join some of the metaphysical tenets of David Hume, as they were interpreted by St. Leon himself, especially his opinions on the foundations of morality; and whereas Mr. Hume has asserted, that the qualities and actions which the mind approves as virtuous, are those which are found either agreeable or useful to society, St. Leon asserted, that in every individual action the merit depends on its being performed by the agent, with a view to the aggregate benefit of all sentient beings, or, as he phrases it, what is best upon the whole. On this best upon the whole, together with the perfectibility of man, he constituted a very singular system that he delivered to the world, in a book which made a very extensive impression on minds predisposed for boundless innovation. Our hero was at great pains to make himself master of a productionin which the establishment of the most extravagant nonsense was the end, for compassing which, acuteness and ingenuity were the means, and he was at a loss whether most to wonder at the folly of the propositions which were to be demonstrated, or the skill and ability of the intermediations; and he could not help thinking that St. Leon richly deserved to rank with the ancient Pyrrho, with the modern Hobbes, Spinosa, Mandeville, or any others who misemployed brilliant talents, in framing absurd or mischievous hypotheses. Powers which a refined state of society only could have produced, were by St. Leon exerted in recommending the rudest barbarity and incivilization. Metaphysical acuteness, and concatenated argumentation, were exercised in controverting truths, which the grossest stupidity can perceive to be undeniable, while profoundwisdom regards them as the foundation of society. Polished elegance of composition attempted to effect the restoration of chaotic ignorance, chaste purity of language recommended the promiscuous intercourse of the sexes, the calmness of philosophical disquisition inculcated the destruction of peace and of order, in the overthrow of property and of law; the ardent pursuer of the happiness of mankind sought to destroy the tendered endearments and best affections of the human heart. The votary of benevolence endeavoured to destroy the sentiments and actions which conduce most powerfully to the well-being of the human race. Man he asserted to be perfectible; and professed to stimulate him to the attainment of that perfection which he affirmed to be in his power; but instead of affording new motives to intellectual and moral improvement,he inculcated a system that would have degraded him to the level of beasts. To complete the downfal of human nature from that reason and conscience by which it has been distinguished from the brute creation, he projected to annihilate religion. Lest the fine-spun deductions of abused logic should be unsuccessful in conveying doctrines so absurd, and practices so destructive, the powers of fancy are super-added to render them picturesque and impressive. Subtle sophistry alone could hardly establish the inutility of criminal justice, but an affecting fable setting forth the punishment of innocence, and the escape of guilt, strongly interests the feelings; and the emotions of the heart are mistaken for the conclusions of the head. A fictitious tale of an individual case is so skilfully managed, as, to many, to appear a fair and general exhibition ofpenal law, and its operation. Virtuous sensibility is excited against the necessary muniments of property, and the correctives of crimes. Such was the mis-application of great literary powers, that sprung from the boundless love of innovation. Speculative men have often, in theory, supported principles inconsistent with the common sense of mankind, and the well-being of society, without reducing their speculations to practice! A reader of these singular works must have reprobated doctrines that tended, if admitted, to destroy our respect for marriage, property, promises; our conviction of the immortality of the soul; the ties of natural affection, gratitude, friendship; every cement of civil and social duty; to overturn monarchy, laws, government, and every political institution. But it might have been supposed that the authormerely advanced paradoxes for the sake of displaying ingenuity; that he himself was convinced, as much as any other, endowed with reason must be, of the total incompatibility of suchravingswith any thing that could actually exist. But he followed his speculation by a practical model, and exhibited as a pattern of perfection a real character, who, according to his account, systematically deviated from the chief virtues of her sex. This singular example of female perfection, whom the writer exhorted her sex throughout the world to imitate, was a concubine. But of her various qualifications, a few specimens may serve—First we have her chastity; Miss resorted to France, and became a kept-mistress; this, according to her panegyrist, was a species of connection for whichher heart secretly panted, and which had the effect of diffusing an immediatetranquillity and cheerfulness over her manners. The beneficial consequences accruing to thisexemplarylady fromconcubinagedid not always last. Her keeper forsook her; she followed him to England. Afterwards she lived on a similar footing with her encomiast himself, who in a few words exhibits the practical conduct which his lessons inculcated, “We did not marry. It is difficult to recommend any thing to indiscriminate adoption, contrary to the established rules and prejudices of mankind; but certainly nothing can be so ridiculous upon the face of it, or so contrary to the genuine march of sentiments, as to require the overflowing of the soul to wait upon a ceremony; and that which, wherever delicacy and imagination exist, is of all things most sacredly private, to blow a trumpet before it, and to record the moment when it arrived at its climax.”When recording her excursion to England, her orator gives us a sample of her patriotism. “England was a country for which she expressed a repugnance that almost amounted to horror.” To her moral and political virtues, he adds the account of her religious attainments. “She had received few lessons of religion in her youth, and her religion was almost entirely of her own creation. She could not recollect the time when she had believed the doctrine of future punishments.” As she advanced in philosophy, her attendance on public worship became less and less constant, and was soon wholly discontinued. Her disregard for the ordinances of piety, drew from her champion the following reflection:—“I believe it may be admitted as a maxim, that no person of a well-furnished mind, that has shaken off the implicit subjection of youth, and is notthe zealous partizan of a sect, can bring himself to conform to the public and regular routine of sermons and prayers.” Such doctrines and lessons made a very deep impression on the inferior votaries of literature. The ingenuity of the author rendered absurdity plausible in his theories, and poison palatable in his inculcations. The perfectibility of man to be consummated by a political justice, which should overthrow religion, government, property, marriage, good faith, patriotism, and all the relative duties of society, was rung in an infinite number of changes. The spirit of St. Leon was diffused through books, and pamphlets, and periodical publications. It met us at the theatre, or popt on us in the form of novels. Catching as it went the follies of its various bearers, it babbled in spouting clubs, howled from the tribune, or by its importunate prattle disturbed thetranquillity of private companies. So pernicious it is to common sense, reason, truth, virtue, order, and religion, when men of genius and learning employ their pens in spreading nonsense, absurdity, and falsehood; vice, disorder, and irreligion. If a writer of this sort were to take a cool and dispassionate view of the talents he has received, and the acts which he has done, the amount might probably be, nature has bestowed on him a mind competent to the acquisition of valuable and deep knowledge. Instruction and assiduity operating on these gifts of nature, have enabled him to communicate his conceptions, thoughts, and discoveries, agreeably, forcibly, and impressively. What has he done? He exhorted men and women to avoid the first link of a rational community, marriage, and to mingle with promiscuous intercourse, according to temporary impulse,and after the fashion of beasts. Respecting their offspring, the next gem of civil society, he exhorted them to descend below beasts, which have a care for their young. He instigated parents to disregard their children, and children their parents; he carried his proscription of natural affection through the relation of brother and sister. Lest this attempt to prevent the formation of a family, and so to arrest society in its first stage, should prove unsuccessful, he attacked it in more advanced progress, and endeavoured to destroy faith between man and man, to proscribe adherence to promises, to annihilate property, one of the great cements of society, and to banish religion, the grand security of human happiness. His practical lessons teach, that the restraints on unmarried women are not conducive to the welfare of society; that chastity is not avirtue, and concubinage a vice; that women are not likely to be better members of society, domestic, civil, and political, for being continent than prostitutes. He set up an immoral and impious model for the sex, and if all women were to follow the example of his heroine, universal profligacy and irreligion would ensue. As far, therefore, as the literary authority and power of these writings reach, they tend to increase debauchery and impiety. He has written a metaphysical work, of which the theoretical propositions are chimerical, absurd, and totally irreconcileable to human nature, as known to us by experience and induction, the only guides to just intellectual and moral speculation; and the practical doctrines, inculcated by precept and example, lead to the most unwise and immoral conduct, and to consequences that would unhinge alldomestic, social, civil, political, and religious society. Such will a fair and impartial review of his literary efforts present to St. Leon the use and improvement of his talents and acquirements. That he intended such consequences, I by no means assert. I think it probable he did not. I should rather impute his work to an understanding so perverted by a favourite hypothesis, as to be unable, however acute and ingenious on other subjects, to distinguish truth whenever that hypothesis was concerned. We have no reason to suppose that St. Leon, who is in private life said not to be unamiable, would be guilty of such gratuitous wickedness, as to be intentionally a strenuous promoter of the most destructive profligacy. But whatever his intentions may have been, the tendency is the same.
Equally absurd is the physical as the moral and political philosophy of the singular St. Leon. What opinion can we entertain of a man who seriously thinks that, at some future period, the necessity of sleep to an animal may cease, who has even asserted that death may be postponed at pleasure; who maintains that inanimate nature may move without any animate cause, and even move to certain definite and beneficial purposes; that a plough may till the ground without any direction from men, and aid from horses, or any other animals; who, by confounding the qualities and operations of matter and mind, would afford pretexts for an inference, that the universe may exist and be directed in its present system and order without the guidance of an intelligent cause; who has employed his ingenuity in endeavouring to establish atheism. Whatever may beSt. Leon’s private habits of life, however temperate in pleasurable indulgence, or fair and equitable in his transactions of business, his doctrines tend to disseminate profligacy and iniquity; and as his works are read in a much wider circle than his conduct is seen or known, the mischief of his precepts and exhortations is infinitely greater than the benefit of his example and practice. The author of the “Political Justice,” and the biographical vindication of concubinage, from his agreeable and persuasive manner, has spread a great quantity of poison, against which feeble is the antidote to be found in the private life and conversation of St. Leon.
That singular theorist no doubt possesses genius; subtle indeed rather than solid and vigorous, fanciful and refining without being profound. Such a man generally steers out of the walk ofcommon sense and views, both the natural and moral world, through some other medium than plain observation and experience.
The eccentric movements of St. Leon, have done all the evil that his powers and sphere would admit. It is true, he has not done nearly so much evil as Rousseau, because though resembling that father of false morals and politics, in deviation from common sense, impressive as St. Leon is, he is far, very far beneath the author of Eloisa, in force and fertility of invention; in extent of views, and in the fascination of eloquence. The whole of his sceptical compositions, (that is the chief part of his writings) have not done nearly so much evil as the few essays of Hume, for promoting pyrrhonism and infidelity; because acute and subtle as St. Leon is, he is much farther beneath Hume in depth of philosophyand powers of reasoning, than beneath Rousseau in creative fancy and persuasive eloquence; and twenty pages of Hume could effect more towards any purpose he chose, than a thousand pages of St. Leon; and St. Leon’s chief work is a mere expatiation on a principle of Hume, carried to greater extravagance than Hume himself ever attempted; but as St. Leon has imitated Hume, in attempting to sap the foundations of morality and religion, let him remember that such writings constitute but a small part of Hume’s literary labours; and that he has left one work of unusual magnitude replete with sound wisdom, and (with certain exceptions) one of the most beneficial to mankind, that graced the eighteenth century. Meaning no sneering insult to St. Leon, I shall not affect to compare him to Hume, but immeasurably below that philosopher, as thisingenious sciolist may be, he is certainly a writer of very considerable efficiency. As he has hitherto employed his talents for the detriment of mankind, let him for once try to exert them for the benefit of mankind. A very interesting tale he has told to disparage fair fame, and high consideration in the community; to vindicate thieves and robbers; and to inculcate that the inmates of jails for crimes, are more virtuous than the most eminent characters in civil and political society; and that penal laws are an intolerable grievance to freemen: in short, to confound all distinctions between reputation and infamy, virtue and vice, innocence and guilt. Let him endeavour to write a tale of equal interest, to exhibit the necessary connection between crimes and punishment, to promote obedience to the laws; and to advance virtue and religion. The attempt might be at firstaukward, but perseverance and practice would soon render it easier; and St. Leon’s powers are fully adequate to the task of impressing sense and utility, as well as absurdity and mischief.
While St. Leon, with various coadjutors and ministers, endeavoured to effect such moral, religious, and political changes, among human beings, another very noted person laboured with equal activity, and greater ardour, to fashion one half of mankind to the new doctrines. This was Jemima, the celebrated propounder of a new theory, and a new system of practice, for the information and use of women.
Ever desirous of tracing moral effects to moral causes, Hamilton was at great pains to enquire into the parentage, education, temperament, habits, and conduct of Miss Jemima, in the hopes of being able to discover whence sprang her aberrationsfrom common sense, and from the principles and sentiments which the experience of mankind, in all ages, has found it most beneficial to society to cherish among women. Of this female champion, he found means to learn the history, as well as the doctrines and opinions. Jemima, it seems, was a woman of strong and lively parts, and ardent feelings; who, not having found the world to her mind, proposed to model it to her wishes. She had lived to the age of thirty, without any invitation to marriage, although very strongly disposed to that state, and finding little chance of getting a man married to herself, had cast her eyes upon a man that was married to another. But the intervention of a wife, either stopped or limited the proposed converse with this object; and finding celibacy no longer tolerable, she was filled with rage at the restraints which all civilized societies have imposed uponwomen; the rigour of which was strongly enhanced, by the contrast that it exhibited with the free and uncontrouled range of the ladies of Otaheite. She had hitherto conformed to the absurd and aristocratical ideas respecting female reputation; but these she now resolved to renounce, and to live openly in a state for whichshe had long secretly panted[7], and having before abjured religion, without regarding its precepts, she took to herself a mate; or in the language of the vulgar, became a kept mistress. It was neither a new nor extraordinary occurrence in itself, for a woman tired of being a maid, and that had not succeeded in becoming a wife, to become a concubine; but an event intrinsically not very material, may be important in its consequences. Like Dr. Sangrado, she was not content with practicing herself accordingto the line which she had marked, but must prescribe the same course of medicine to all others. She must construct a theory, and write a book. But as chastity was not the only restraint which civilized society requires to be imposed on women, she proceeded at once to change their condition in the community, and in freedom of conduct, as well as the nature of their pursuits, to place them on the same footing with men. To compass this purpose, Jemima’s first care was in this her book, to instruct the understandings of the sex in therights of women. These, in a few words, wereto act in every case according to their own pleasure; and to share in all the prerogatives of men. They were to be soldiers, sailors, senators, politicians, scholars, philosophers, and rakes; they were also to be coachmen, postillions, blacksmiths, carpenters, coal-heavers, &c.She addressed herself to the love of glory, by which so many of the fair are eminently distinguished, to incite them to rivalry. She trusted the time would soon arrive, when the sex would acquire high renown in boxing matches, sword and pistol; and when nails, the weapons at present employed in deciding their contests, should be no longer in occupation. Not only the instruments of war, but the military tactics should be changed; the hair, caps, and cloaths, were to be no longer the points of attack; women were to use knock-me-down blows, tierce and cart, point give point, St. George’s guard. If a lady at a rout, for instance, happened to quarrel about an odd trick, instead of tearing her own fan, let her challenge her antagonist, “Damn your eyes, I will darken your day-lights; let us strip to our dickies this instant, as the fashion goes, the way is not far:the Countess of Coniac shall be bottle-holder; it is an office she likes.” By Jemima’s orders they might use dexterity, as well as prowess, and sometimes fall without a blow. At wrestling let them bar tripping, unless the antagonist be a man, for then it is fair. To illustrate, by example, the characters which she wished to form, as the Squaws and Otaheites were at too great a distance, she mentioned the ladies that attended the fruit-markets at Covent-Garden, and the fish-markets at Billingsgate. These, however, were far surpassed by their sisters in France, thedames du Halles, and thepoissardes. The English fair above-mentioned, only unsex themselves as far as feminine softness extends; but the French fair laid aside all feminine tenderness, and being as ferocious as the most savage soldier of Attila or Kouli Khan, were much more complete models of thehardened state which Jemima proposed women to attain. To divest English women entirely of delicacy and tenderness, sanguine as the projectress was, she feared would be impracticable; but still she trusted she might have partial and considerable success.
Hamilton, admiring the genius which beamed through this excentricity of pernicious inculcation, sought the acquaintance of Jemima, and was received with great complacency. She saw he was not yet a convert to her doctrines, or to those of her friends, Topsiturvy and St. Leon; she hoped that her philosophy would at length prevail over his present prejudices, that he might become a powerful cooperator in the grand work oftransmogrifyinghuman nature; and she judged him peculiarly qualified for the conversion of women. Ever since Jemima undertook to form a new sect, she, inimitation of Whitfield, the coalheaver, and otherpattern makers, held private meetings to discuss with the pupils the symptoms of conversion, their progress in the new faith, and the probability of complete proselytism. Though a woman presided at these assemblies, they did not resemble the secrecy and mystery of the Bona Dea of ancient Rome, to whose festivals no male creature was suffered to enter; and where a Clodius must disguise himself in a woman’s habit before he could be admitted. To be received into Jemima’s meetings, a Clodius need only avow his proper character, than which none could be better fitted for the practical extension of Jemima’s doctrines. To one of these meetings our hero received an invitation. He found a considerable number of guests, but chiefly females. Jemima, having unfortunately forgotten that an assembly washeld at a tavern, to deliberateafterdinner upon politics and philosophy, the last subject not to begin till after thesixteenthround of toasts, and that some of her particular friends must be of the party, had fewer visitors than usual. The first quarter of an hour shewed no kind of revolution in manners and customs, being occupied by the fair attendants in the same way as if they had been at church before the service began, that is, in critical remarks on the bonnets, cloaks, and handkerchiefs of each other; the dress, face, and figure of the men. Under the two last heads our hero received great commendation. One lady that was near him declared, in an audible whisper, that he was an Adonis, Apollo, and Hercules, in one; “but then,” said another lady, “he is married;” “married!” replied the first, with great contempt, “you, a disciple of Jemima, anda votary of St. Leon, talk of marriage! Marriage is a shameful aristocratical monopoly. Why should so charming a man beengrossed?”—“Pray do not talk so loud, Madam,” said the other. “There again,” said the first, “you forget the precepts of the adorable Jemima, and the divine St. Leon, that in converse between the sexes nothing is more unbecoming than secrecy.” “You yourself,” said a third, “forget the precepts of our great instructors; you used the term divine, a sound without meaning.”—“I stand corrected; but the language of old prejudice and darkness will intrude insensibly into new philosophy and light.” The second lady, observing a cloak with a very broad border of fine lace, said, in a half jest, she wished she had an opportunity of getting hold of that cloak. “What,” said the third, “would you steal?”—“Steal,” said she; “is this your progress; are not we taught that propertyis an absurd institution? She has a surplus of lace; I have a deficiency. Have I not a right to equalization?” Monrose, who happened to overhear this dialogue, observed, “women, you are yet only advancing, without having reached the end of your journey. I shall lend you a spur myself.”—“Thanks, Monrose, you will interpret and familiarize the profound wisdom of St. Leon. But hold, here comes our sublime instructress.”
Jemima now ascended a pulpit, from which she addressed the female part of her hearers. “Women, great objects of my care, I have learned that there are many who approve the exemption which I have proposed from the aristocratical restraints, to which the monopolizing tyranny of men has subjected our sex; who agree with me that women should be as free as light or air, but likenot the toils, hardships, and dangers of a participation with the men. But let me explain to you the blessings that are mingled with these apparent hardships; ye, who are not moved by glory to a sublime rivalry with the hitherto domineering lords of the creation, to the discharge of masculine duties, should recollect that there are feminine inducements; with competition in their labours, you have uncontrouled converse with your rivals. If heroines mingle with military heroes in the ranks, they also join them in their tents. If the naval hero and heroine are stationed by the same gun, they also may be stationed in the same hammock. The hardships of honour are relieved by the softness of love. If one of my aspiring pupils should wish to become a stateswoman, and constitute part of the cabinet, may she not share the now unoccupied affections of our prime minister,as well as his counsels; or, if she do not affect the treasurer’s staff, she may be associated with the gallantminister for the home department. Intermingling in various other manly, active, and laborious occupations, you, my disciples, will be agreeably soothed by those companions whose hardiness you seek to emulate, when you become carpenters, brick-layers, stonemasons, tin-women, and smiths. You will participate in the pleasures, as well as occupations of social converse; journeywomen and journeymen will be as free, communicative, and joyous as are the present haymakers of the two sexes. But in literary and intellectual employments, you will often club with your rivals. The gentle novel-writer, and the fierce critic will associate like the lamb and the tyger in the age of Cumean prophecy. The masters of academies, and mistresses of boardingschools will be no longer separate professions: young men and young women will be educated together, and the sweet reciprocations of juvenile sensibility will qualify the acrimony of rivalry; and, as I trust, in that improved state of civil society, political institutions will be meliorated in proportion; no censure or punishment will follow those amiable young who themselves follow the impulses of nature. The absurdity of parental affection will, on the side of the fathers, be thoroughly eradicated, because, in the state recommended by St. Leon, there will be little possibility of ascertaining among the youthful pupils who the fathers are. In your case, my friends, there can be no uncertainty; nevertheless, by following the inimitable precept of Rousseau, you may soon forget to whom you are mothers. Send the offspring to the hospitals, and letthere be a large repository of that kind near every village that abounds in boarding schools. The misses will, according to my plan, have no occasion for that concealment which they are now obliged to observe. Instructive books from the libraries, drill serjeants, and dancing masters, the theory and practice of love, may be studied and exercised as openly in and about London, as by the ladies of Otaheite.
But, my pupils, perfection is not to be immediately attained: our present business is to prepare for that high state of human regeneration. Of course, we all renounce religion, the prejudice of the unenlightened; and we all seek equality; but some degree of influence and controul may be necessary in the present imperfect state, to fit us for the total reprobation of religion, and the equalization of mankind, by mowingdown every inequality of fortune, rank, talents, and virtue. I propose to imitate the absurd institutions of the English church in one instance. There shall be two chief overseers, and twenty-four overseers of our sex, for the purpose of changing the heretofore approved characters of women, and diffusing among them a proper contempt for religion and virtue, especially the sneaking virtues of modesty and chastity. Thecandidatesfor these offices shall be persons, who, to the utmost of their means and opportunities, have endeavoured to eradicate these absurd principles of female conduct. Who may be Primate will be the first consideration.” “That can require no deliberation,” was the universal cry. “Jemima must be the Primate.” Jemima acquiesced. “I have next to consider who should be my colleague. There is a person now engaged in exhibiting to admirationthe most noted females, who have anticipated my doctrines by systematic deviation, from the rules imposed upon women by aristocratic man: her name is Mary.” She was appointed colleague by acclamation. “As to the overseers,” proceeded Jemima, “they may be found among various classes; but chiefly the writers of sentimental and loving novels, great repositories of instruction; governesses and usheresses, who convey such and other inciting works to their youthful charge; and also parents in humble circumstances, who send their children to boarding-schools, to learn what is to them useless, and not to learn what is to them useful. These pupils becoming totally unfit for the absurdity of marriage, and chaste converse, thereby become fit for concubinage, unchaste converse, and the promiscuous intercourse which St. Leon so strongly recommendsby precept; and I am proud to say, I still more strongly recommend by both precept and example. It would be tedious, at present, to go over twenty-four; and the more so, as so many in this age of increasing light, have such claims, as it might be difficult to adjust with a due regard to equity and merit. One person, however, I must mention. Mrs. Sonnet, though not supreme in ability, yet has an activity and good will in the cause, that entitles her to high consideration. All her novels have proposed to decry existing institutions, exalt the philosophers of France, and to debase what is called female virtue, by an attempt to shew that it depends on accident, and not principle. Mrs. Egotist also, though not strictly one of our votaries, yet tends to promote our interests. With great skill and ingenuity she softens what the unenlightened call adultery, bystiling it ‘the error of too susceptible a heart;’ also by holding forth disobedient children as objects of praise and admiration, she advances our favourite doctrine of the absurdity of filial duty: most of her heroes and heroines uniformly and steadily pursue, that rule of conduct which their parents strongly exhort them to avoid. Thus friendly to the dissolution of domestic authority, and what the blind call duties, Mrs. Egotist is no less ardent to decry civil, ecclesiastical, and political authority, to represent Bishops, and rulers of every kind as wicked, and most vehemently to reprobate the execrable and abominable constitution, which we are obliged to suffer in Britain. Yes, Charlotte, according to the new polity of Jemima, you must have a mitre. There is a copartnery of either one or two old ladies, and a young one for writing novels, neither of them areprofessedly my votaries, and, indeed, areprofessedlythe contrary. But there is one most inveterate foe of the new philosophy, known by the name of Common Sense, and till he can be destroyed, the new philosophy will never be fully established. Miss Twostools can bring every page of her works, and her mother about seven-eighths of hers, to bear witness of their hostility to Common Sense. Admirable in that view is the story of an old Lord, who supposes himself to have a wolf in his belly; no less admirable the many adventures of his grandson, who, to be fitted for the peerage, was committed to the care of the clerk of the parish, and met so many marvellous adventures as never did, or could happen to any human being. Mrs. and Miss Twostools are both too weak for the mitre; but for their good-will may be appointedbell-womento thecause.” Jemima ran over many other names, such as Miss Harry Clarendon, Miss Derwent Priory, and numberless others that our hero forgot. At length the meeting broke up, and many of the disciples filed off in pairs, probably to study rivalry with the other sex.