Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 54, No. 335, September 1843 by Various

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"Nudo ciascuno il pie calca il sentiero,
Ch'l'esempio de duci ogn' altromuove
Serico fregio d'or, piuma e criniero
Superbo dal suo capo ognon rimuove,
_E d'insieme del cor l'abito altero
Depone, e calde e pie lagrime piove_."

We now enter into the main object of the work, the condition of women in
modern times; and the passage which introduces the subject is so luminous
and eloquent, that we cannot resist the pleasure of laying it before our
readers without mutilation.

"To pursue the history of woman through the ages of misrule and
violence that corrupted the spirit of chivalry, would be useless.
It is sufficiently evident, that in proportion as the vices of
barbarism renewed their dominion, the condition of women would be
more or less affected by their evils. But, on the whole, society
was improving: two great events were preparing to engage the
attention of Europe--the struggles for religious freedom and the
revival of learning. These produced effects on the human mind
very different from those of any revolutions that had taken place
during the age of barbarism.

"While the opinion reigned absolute, that war was the most
important affair of life and the most honourable pursuit, the
tendency of society was towards destruction. All the virtue
consistent with so false a principle was, perhaps, brought forth
by chivalry; but in the long run, the false principle overruled
the force of the generous spirit, and chivalry sank like a meteor
that owed its splendour to surrounding darkness. Its spirit gave
an impulse to opinion and sentiment, but its errors and ignorance
disabled it from supplying any corrective to the bad institutions
and mistaken policy which fostered barbarism. It was not every
mind that was capable of imbibing the generous sentiments of
chivalry, but ferocious passions could rarely fail to be
stimulated by the idolatry of war, and the contempt for civil
employments it produced. Among men, poor, restless, and to a
great degree irresponsible, the craving for distinction excited
by chivalry was a dangerous passion. No very general change over
the face of society could be reasonably expected, from the
attempts to engraft a spirit of gentleness and beneficence upon a
principle of war and destruction. The spirit was right, but the
principle was wrong. It was just the reverse in the next
enthusiasm which seized the minds of mankind. In the struggles
for religious freedom which followed, the principle was right,
but it was pursued in the horrible spirit of persecution. Men,
ready to die for the right of professing the truth, could not
divest themselves of that persecuting spirit towards others,
which was leading themselves to the stake. But there is a vigour
in a right principle which gradually clears men's eyes of their
prejudices. The dire and mistaken means by which successive
reformers defended each his own opinion, were abandoned, and men
began to perceive that civil and religious liberty were of more
use to society than martial feats or extended conquests; and that
it is still more important to learn how to reason than how to fight.

"The tendency of this principle was towards social improvement,
and civilization began to make progress.

"Before the extinction of chivalry, the airy throne on which
women had been raised was broken down; but the effects of her
elevation were never obliterated. There remained on the surface
of society a tone of gallantry which tended to preserve some
recollection of the station she had once held. As civilization
advanced, the idea that women might be disposed of like property,
seemed to be nearly abandoned all over Europe; but their
subsequent condition partook (as might be expected in the case of
dependent beings) of the character prevailing in each country.
The grave temper and morbid jealousy of the Spaniards, reduced
them almost to Eastern seclusion."

We entreat the attention of our readers to the following remark, which
explains, in some degree, the mediocrity that characterizes the present
day:--

"In the first ages after the rise of literature, the very want of
that multitude of second-rate books we now possess, had the
effect of compelling those who learned any thing to betake
themselves to studies of a solid nature; and there was
consequently less difference then, between the education of the
two sexes, than now. The reader will immediately recollect the
instances of Lady Jane Grey, Mrs Hutchinson, and others of the
same class, and will feel that it is quite fair to assume, that
many such existed when a few came to be known."

It was during the reign of the last princes of the House of Valois, that
the women of the French court began to exercise that malignant and almost
universal influence, which, for a while, poisoned the well-springs of
refinement and civility. Eclipsed for a while by the mighty luminaries
which, during the life of Louis XIII., and the early part of Louis
XIV.th's reign, were lords of the ascendant when they had sunk beneath
the horizon, their constellation again blazed forth with greater force
and more disastrous splendour. Hence the Dragonnades, the destruction of
Port-Royal, the persecution of the Jansenists, the death of Racine, the
disgrace of Fenelon. Hence, in the reign of Louis XV., orgies that
Messalina would have blushed to share; while cruelties[A] of which
Suwarrow would hardly have been the instrument, were employed to lash
into a momentary paroxysm nerves withered by debauchery. Here let us
pause for a moment, to remark upon the effect which false opinions may
produce upon the happiness and well-being of distant generations. Nothing
is so common as for trivial superficial men--the class to which the
management of empires is for the most part entrusted--to ridicule
theories, and, by a mode reasoning which would place any cabin boy far
above Sir Isaac Newton, to insist upon the mechanical parts of
government, and the routine of ordinary business, as the sole objects
entitled to notice and consideration--

"O curvae in terris animae, et coelestium inanes!"

[Footnote A: This does not apply to Louis XV. personally.]

We would fain ask these practical people--for such is the eminently
inappropriate metaphor by which they rejoice to be distinguished--we would
fain ask them (if it be consistent with their profound respect for
practice to pay some attention to experience) to cast their eyes upon the
proceedings and manners of the French court (wild and chimerical as such
an appeal will no doubt appear to them) during the dominion of Catharine
of Medicis and her offspring, those execrable deceivers, corrupters, and
executioners of their people. To what are the almost incredible
abominations, familiar as household words to the French court of that day,
to be ascribed? To what are the persecutions, perjuries, the massacres
that pollute the annals of France during that period, to be attributed? To
a false theory. Catharine of Medicis brought into France the practical
atheism of Machiavelli's prince--the Bible, as she blasphemously called
it, of her class. The maxims which, when confined to the petty courts of
Italy, did not undermine the prosperity of any considerable portion of the
human race, when disseminated among a valiant, politic, and powerful
nation, brought Iliads of desolation in their train. We subjoin Jeanne
d'Allrep's account of the private manners of the court of Charles IX:--

"J'ai trouve votre lettre fort a mon gre--je la montrerai a
madame, si je puis; quant a la peinture, je l'enverrai querir a
Paris; elle est belle et bien avisee, et de bonne grace, mais
nourrie en la plus maudite et corrompue compagnie qui fut jamais,
car je n'en vois point qui ne s'en sente. Votre cousine la
marquise (l'epouse du jeune Prince de Conde) en est tellement
changee qu'il n'y a apparence de religion en elle; si non
d'autant qu'elle ne va point a la messe; car au reste de sa facon
de vivre, hormis l'idolatrie, elle fait comme les Papistes; et ma
soeur la Princesse (de Conde) encore pis. Je vous l'ecris
privement, le porteur vous dira comme le roi s'emancipe--c'est
pitie; je ne voudrois pour chose du monde que vous y fussiez pour
y demeurer. Voila pourquoi je desire vous marier, et que vous et
votre femme vous vous retiriez de cette corruption; car encore
que je la croyois bien grande, je la trouve encore davantage. Ce
ne sont pas les hommes ici qui prient les femmes--ce sont les
femmes qui prient les hommes; si vous y etiez, vous n'en
echapperiez jamais sans une grande grace de Dieu."

Thus women were alternately tools and plotters, idols and slaves. The
ornaments of a court became the scourges of a nation; their influence was
an influence made up of falsehood, made up of cruelty, made up of
intrigue, of passions the most unbridled, and of vices the most
detestable, and it seems to the student of history, in this wild and
dreadful era as if all that was generous, upright, noble, and
benevolent--as if faith and honour, and humanity and justice, were
foreign and unnatural to the heart of man. But let us turn to our author.

"But the times were about to change. The great and stirring
contests in religion and politics, which had given such scope to
the deep fervour of the British character, subsided, as if the
actors were breathless from their past exertions. The struggle
for freedom sank into acquiescence in the dominion of the most
worthless of mankind; and zeal for religion fled before the
spirit of banter and sneer. The enthusiasm of 'fierce wars and
faithful loves,' of piety and of freedom, were succeeded by the
reign of profligacy and levity.

"During that disastrous period, the sordid and servile vices seem
to have kept pace with the wildest licentiousness; and the dark
and stern persecutions in Scotland form a fearful contrast with
the bacchanalian revels of the court. The effects on the
character and estimation of the female sex, sustain all that has
been said upon the connexion of their interests with the
elevation of morals. It became the habit to satirize and despise
them, and on this they have never entirely recovered. The
demoralization which led to it was, indeed, too much opposed to
the temper of the English to be permanent; but women, for a long
time after, ceased to keep pace with their age. Notwithstanding
the numerous exceptions which must always have existed in a free
and populous country like England, where literature had made
progress, it is certain, that in the days of Pope and Addison, the
women, in general, were grossly ignorant.

"The tone of gallantry and deference which had arisen from
chivalry, still remained on the surface, but its language was
that of cold, unmeaning flattery; and, from being the arbiters of
honour, they became the mere ministers of amusement. They were
again consigned to that frivolity, into which they _relapse as
easily as men_ do into ferocity. The respect they inspired, was
felt individually or occasionally, but not for their sex. Any
thing serious addressed to them, was introduced with an apology,
or in the manner we now address children whom we desire to
flatter. They were treated and considered as grown children. In
the writings addressed to them expressly for their instruction in
morals, or the conduct of life, though with the sincerest desire
for their welfare, nothing is proposed to them that can either
exalt their sentiments, invigorate their judgment, or give them
any desire to leave the world better than they found it. They
inculcated little beyond the views and the duties of a decent
servant. Views and duties, indeed, very commendable as far as
they go, but lamentable when offered as the standard of morals
and thought for half the human species; that half too, on whom
chiefly depends the first, the often unalterable, bent given to
the character of the whole."

The dignity of character which rivets our attention on the "high dames and
gartered knights" of the days of Elizabeth, the simplicity and earnestness
and lofty feeling, which lent grace to prejudice and chastened error into
virtue, were exchanged, in the days of Charles II., for undisguised
corruption and insatiable venality, for license without generosity,
persecution without faith, and luxury without refinement. Grammont's
animated _Memoires_ are a complete, and, from the happy unconsciousness of
the writer to the vices he portrays, a faithful picture of the court, to
which the description Polydore Virgil gives of a particular family, "nec
vir fortis nec foemina casta," was almost literally applicable.

Various as are the beauties of style with which this work
abounds--beauties which, to borrow the phrase of Cicero, rise as
naturally from the subject as a flower from its stem--we doubt whether it
contains a more felicitous illustration than that which we are about to
quote. The reader must bear in mind that the object of the writer is to
establish the proposition, that there is an average inferiority of women
to men in certain qualities, which, slight as it may appear, or
altogether as it may vanish, in particular instances, is, on the whole,
incontestable, and according to which the transactions of daily life are
distributed.

"All inconvenience is avoided by a slight inferiority of strength
and abilities in one of the sexes. This gradually develops a
particular turn of character, a new class of affections and
sentiments that humanize and embellish the species more than any
others. These lead at once, without art or hesitation, to a
division of duties, needed alike in all situations, and produce
that order without which there can be no social progression. In
the treatise of _The Hand_, by Sir Charles Bell, we learn that
the left hand and foot are naturally a little weaker than the
right; the effect of this is, to make us more prompt and
dexterous than we should otherwise be. If there were no
difference at all between the right and left limbs, the slight
degree of hesitation which hand to use or which foot to put
forward, would create an awkwardness that would operate more or
less every moment of our lives, and the provision to prevent it
seems analogous to the difference nature has made between the
strength of the sexes."

The domain of woman is the horizon where heaven and earth meet--a sort of
land debatable between the confines where positive institutions end and
intellectual supremacy begins. It includes the whole region over which
politeness should extend, as well as a large portion of the territories
over which the fine arts hold their sway.

Those lighter and more shifting features which elude the grasp of the
moralist, and escape the pencil of the historian, though they impress upon
every age a countenance and expression of its own, it is her undoubted
province to survey. Consequently, if not for the

"Troublous storms that toss
The private state, and render life unsweet,"

yet for whatever of elegance or simplicity is wanting in the intercourse
of society, for all that is cumbrous in its proceedings, for any bad
taste, and much for any coarseness that it tolerates, woman, as European
manners are constituted, is exclusively responsible. The habits of daily
intercourse represent her faults and virtues as naturally as a shadow is
cast by the sun, or the image of the tree that overhangs the lake is
reflected from its undisturbed and silent waters. Where the desire of
wealth and respect for rank engross an excessive share of her thoughts,
conversation will be insipid; and instead of that, "nature _ondoyante_,"
that disposition to please and be pleased, which is the essence of good
nature and the foundation of good taste--instead of frankness and
urbanity, youth will engraft on its real ignorance the dulness of affected
stupidity--will assume an air of selfish calculation--of arrogance at one
time and servility at another--debased itself, and debasing all around it.
When, on the contrary, whatever may be their real sentiments, the external
demeanour of men to each other is such as benevolence, gratitude, and
equity would dictate--and we do mean this phrase to include Russian
manners--where, whatever may be the principles that ferment within, the
surface of society is brilliant and harmonious--where, if the better
politeness which dwells in the heart be wanting, the imitation of it which
springs from the head is habitual--women are entitled to the praise of
exact taste and skilful discrimination. There are women whom the world
elevates, only afterwards the more effectually to humble. For a time the
best and wisest submit to their caprices, study their humour, are governed
by their wishes--every one avoids as a crime the slightest appearance of
collision with any motive that, for the moment, it may suit their purpose
to entertain--a smile upon their face is hailed with rapture, any faint
proof that humanity is not dead within their breasts draws down the most
enthusiastic applause. During their hour of empire, people are grateful to
them for not being absolutely intolerable--when they deviate into the
least appearance of courtesy or good nature, they are angels. Their sun
sets, and they soon learn what it is to be a fallen tyrant. The woman who
pleases at first, and as your acquaintance advances gains the more in your
esteem, is the most charming of all companions; the countenance of such a
person is the most agreeable of all sights, and her voice the most
musical of all sounds. "Une belle femme qui a les qualites d'un honnete
homme est-ce qu'il y a au monde d'un commerce plus delicieux; l'on trouve
en elle tout le merite des deux sexes."

"In the heart of the best woman," says a German writer, "there glows a
shovelful, at least, of infernal embers; in that of the worst, there is a
little corner of Paradise."

The real benefits which depend on the influence of the softer sex are thus
described:--

"One of the peculiar offices of women is to refine society. They
are very much shielded by their sex from the stern duties of men,
and from that intercourse with the basest part of mankind which
is opposed to the humanizing influence of mental cultivation. On
them, the improvement of society in these respects chiefly
depends; and they who consider the subject with the views here
offered, will become more and more convinced of the service they
might render. Manners are, in truth, of great importance. If real
refinement be a merit, it is surely desirable that it should show
itself in the general deportment. Real vulgarity is the
expression of something mean or coarse in sentiments or habits.
It betrays the want of fine moral perceptions. The peculiarities
in manner and deportment, which proceed from the selfishness of
the great world, when stripped of the illusory influence of their
apparent refinement, become grossly offensive. A cold repulsive
manner, such as is commonly assumed by persons in high life, is
sometimes a necessary shield against the pushing familiarity of
underbred persons. Their tasteless imitations of habits and
manners which do not belong to their station or character,
deserve the ridicule they meet with. The most offensive form
vulgarity can take, is an affectation of the follies and vices of
high life. It is true that the notion of vulgarity is affixed, in
the fine world, to many trifling modes of dress and deportment,
which in themselves have no demerit whatever, except that
something opposed to them has acquired an ephemeral propriety
from the fancy of the great. But in real good breeding there is
always a reason. It is far too little attended to in England in
any class, though, from acting as a continual corrective to
selfish and unsocial affections, it is peculiarly requisite in
all. Good manners consist in a constant maintenance of
self-respect, accompanied by attention and deference to others;
in correct language, gentle tones of voice, ease, and quietness
in movements and action. They repress no gaiety or animation
which keeps free of offence; they divest seriousness of an air of
severity or pride. In conversation, good manners restrain the
vehemence of personal or party feelings, and promote that
versatility which enables people to converse readily with
strangers, and take a passing interest in any subject that may be
addressed to them."

The writer takes occasion to regret the narrow spirit which prevents our
nobility, or, to speak more properly, our fashionable coteries, from
acquiring a healthier tone, by mixing with societies in which habits of
more vigorous thought predominate. In France, to whatever degree frivolity
may be carried, a French lady would be ashamed not to affect an interest
in the great writers by whom her country has been ennobled; and to betray
an ignorance of their works, or an indifference to their renown, would be
considered a proof not only of the greatest stupidity, but of bad taste
and unrefined habits. Here we are distinguished unfavourably from our
neighbours--exceptions, of course, there must always be--but in general to
betray an acquaintance with any literature beyond the last novel, or the
current trash and gossip of the day, might provoke the charge of pedantry,
but at any rate would fail in exciting the slightest sympathy. Hence men
of letters, and women of letters, form a caste by themselves much to their
own disadvantage, and still more to the injury of those to the improvement
of whom they might imperceptibly contribute; hence the statesman, or the
lawyer, or the writer, generally keeps aloof from the great world, which
he leaves to idle young men and aged coxcombs; or, if he enters it, takes
care to abstain from those topics on which his conversation would be most
natural, instructing, and entertaining. Instances, indeed, may be found,
where men, eminent for science and literature, or of high professional
reputation, inflamed with a distempered appetite for fashionable society,
"drag their slow lengths along" among the guardsmen and dowagers who
frequent such scenes; but they are rather tolerated than encouraged, and
the sacrifices by which they purchase their admission into the dullest
society of Europe are so numerous, their appearance is so mortifying, and
the effect produced upon themselves so pernicious, that hitherto such
instances have served not as models to imitate, but as bywords to deter.
Instead of improving others, they degrade themselves; instead of inspiring
the frivolous with nobler aims and better principles, they condescend to
be the echoes of imbecility; instead of raising the standard of
conversation, they yield implicitly to any signal, however corrupt,
worthless, or utterly unreasonable may be the quarter from which it
proceeds, that the most submissive votaries of fashion watch for and obey.
The system is denounced by our author in the following vigorous and
eloquent passage:--

"The assembly-room or dinner-table _is the very focus of care and
anxiety_, so that a funereal dulness often overhangs it; and
there, where there is the greatest amount of money, time, and
contrivance expended on pleasure--there is least animation of
spirits. For one who is pleased, a dozen are chewing the cud of
some petty annoyance, and _the flow of spirits excited and
animated by rapid interchange of ideas is scarcely known._ When
it occurs, it is seldom owing to those who live for dissipation,
but to men whom the duties of office compel to work very hard.
Notwithstanding their wealth, the pursuits of ambition compel
them to become men of business, and the elasticity of their minds
is preserved. That languid and depressed condition which cankers
the very heart of social enjoyment, loses its solemn character on
occasions of disappointment and vexation. Its pleasures are not
cheerful, but its distresses are ludicrous, and are felt to be
so. Each laughs at his neighbour's mortifications, and the
consciousness he is supplying the same malicious amusement in his
turn, does not take the sting from his own griefs when they
arise.

"Nor is it merely as destructive of social enjoyment, that the
habits of the great world are unfriendly to happiness. It is not
the place for those who have warm imaginations and tender hearts.
There is scarcely any circumstance in which that sphere differs
more from others, than in the deficiency of strong affections.
The chances are many against their existence; and if a woman be
born to move in the haunts of the worldly, it were almost cruel
to snatch her from that immersion in their follies which may
serve to stifle the pangs of disappointed affection. For after
all that can be said of the misery of its empty pursuits and
corrupted tastes, the disappointments that end its petty
passions, and the mortifications that cling to its apparent
splendours, sorrows like those bear no comparison with tears of
anguish shed by the grave of love. Surrounding pleasures, even
the tranquil and elevating beauty of external nature, seem but a
mockery when offered in place of the one thing needful--perfect
and overflowing affection. The exterior decorum and attention on
the part of an altered husband, which betrays to the world no
dereliction of morals but what its easy code passes over as a
right, is no substitute for love. Not unfrequently there is
something almost appalling in the sense of solitude, which on
occasions of sickness or retirement oppresses a young woman, who
to all appearance is overwhelmed with attendance. The hand is not
there that would render every other superfluous. A voice is
wanting, whose absence leaves the silence and horror of death.
The eyes are missed, whose glances first called forth the fervour
of her affections from their peaceful sleep; or, if looking on
her for a moment, they express nothing but indifference. These
are the occasions that dispel the laboured illusion, wherewith,
under the garb of business, or cares, or natural manner, she had
sought to disguise from herself the marks of an estranged heart.
In these sad and desolate hours her memory retraces her early
years, her mother's tender watchfulness, and the soft voices of
sisters contending for their place by her bedside. The contrast
with her present stately solitude bursts resistless through every
effort to repel it; and life and youth, with their long futurity,
present her with nothing but a frightful chasm."

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