Conversation; I don’t mean in exclusion to the other parts of Poetry, in most of which (as I have heard good Judges say) we equal at least the Ancients, and far surpass all the Moderns. I honour the Names, and admire the Writings of _Denham_, _Suckling_ and _D’avenant_, I am ravish’d with the Fancy of _Cowley_, and the Gallantry of _Waller_. I reverence the _Fairy Queen_, am rais’d, and elevated with _Paradise Lost_, _Prince Arthur_ composes and reduces me to a State of Yawning indifference, and Mr. _W—stl—y_’s _Heroicks_ lull me to Sleep. Thus all Ranks and Degrees of Poets have their use, and may be serviceable to some body or other from the Prince to the Pastry Cook, or Past-board Box-maker. I should mention our Satyrists, but it would be endless to descend to every particular, of these Mr. _Oldham_ is admirable, and to go no further, the inimitable Mr. _Butler_ will be an everlasting Testimony, of the Wit of his Age, and Nation, and bid eternal defiance to the Wits of all Countries, and future Ages to follow him in a Path before untrack’d. Our Prose Writers, that are eminent for a gay Style and Iovial Argument, are so many, that it would swell this Letter too much to name ’em, so that I shall only take notice, that whoever can read without Pleasure, or Laughter, _The contempt of the Clergy_, and the following Letters and Dialogues by the same Author, or the facetious Dialogues of Mr. _Brown_ must be more Splenetick than _Heraclitus_, or more stupid, than the Ass he laugh’d at.
Nor are we less provided for the serious Part; Morality has generally been the Province of our Clergy who have treated of all parts of it very largely with so much Piety, Solidity, and Eloquence, that as I think I may venture to say, they have written more upon it than the Clergy of all the rest of the World; so I believe no Body will deny that they have written better. Yet I cou’d wish, that our Ingenious Gentlemen wou’d employ their Pens oftner on these Subjects; because the severity of the other’s Profession obliges ’em to write with an Air, and in a Style less agreable, and inviting to Young People, Not that we are without many excellent Pieces of Morality, Humanity and Civil Prudence written by, and like Gentlemen. But it is the Excellence of ’em, and the ability of our Gentlemen, which appears in the Spirit, Wit, and curious Observations in those Pieces, which make me desire more of the same Nature, Who can read the Essays of that Wonderful Man my Lord _Bacon_, or the no less to be admir’d Sir _Walter Raleigh_’s, or Mr. _Osborns_ advice to a Son, the _Advice to a Daughter_, Sir _William Temple_’s, or Sir _George Machenzie_’s Essays, Sir _Roger L’Estrange_’s Esop (to which last we are likewise oblig’d for an incomparable Version of _Seneca_) and abundance of others, without wishing for more from the same or the like hands? Our Neighbours the _French_, have written a great deal of this kind, of the best of which we have the benefit in _English_; but more particularly the _Sieurs_, _Montagne_, _Rochefaucaut_, and St.
_Evremont_ deserve to be immortal in all Languages. I need not mention any more, it is apparent from these that Women want not the means of being Wise and Prudent without more Tongues than one; nay, and Learned too, if they have any Ambition to be so.
The numberless Treatises of Antiquities, Philosophy, Mathematicks, Natural, and other History (in which I can’t pass silently by, that learned One of Sir _Walter Raleigh_, which the World he writ of can’t match) written originally in, or translated to our Tongue are sufficient to lead us a great way into any Science our Curiousity shall prompt us to. The greatest difficulty we struggled with, was the want of a good Art of Reasoning, which we had not, that I know of, till that defect was supply’d by the greatest Master of that Art Mr. _Locke_, whose Essay on Human Understanding makes large amends for the want of all others in that kind.
Thus Madam I have endeavour’d to obviate all our Adversarie’s Objections, by touching upon as great a Variety of things relating to the Subject as I conveniently cou’d. Yet I hope I have troubled you with nothing but what was necessary to make my way clear, and plain before me; and I am apt to think I have made it appear, that nothing but disencouragement or an Idle Uncurious Humour can hinder us from Rivalling most Men in the knowledge of great Variety of things, without the help of more Tongues than our Own; which the Men so often reproachfully tell us is enough. This Idleness is but too frequently to be found among us, but ’tis a Fault equally common to both Sexes. Those that have means to play the Fool all their lives, seldom care for the trouble of being made wise. We are naturally Lovers of our Ease, and have great apprehensions of the difficulty of things untry’d; Especially in matters of Learning, the common Methods of acquiring which are so unpleasant, and uneasie. I doubt not but abundance of noble Wits are stiffled in both Sexes, for want but of suspecting what they were able to do, and with how much facility. Experience shews us every day Blockheads, that arrive at a moderate, nay sometimes a great Reputation by their Confidence, and brisk attempts which they maintain by their Diligence; while great Numbers of Men naturally more Ingenious lye neglected by, for want of Industry to improve, or Courage to exert themselves. No Man certainly but wishes he had the Reputation in, and were Respected and Esteem’d by the World as he sees some Men are for the Fruits of their Pens; but they are loth to be at the pains of an Attempt, or doubt their sufficience to perform; or what I believe is most general, never to enquire so far into themselves, and their own Abilities, as to bring such a thought into their Heads. This last I fancy is the true Reason, why our Sex, who are commonly charged with talking too much, are Guilty of Writing so little. I wish they would shake of this lazy Despondence, and let the noble examples of the deservedly celebrated Mrs. _Philips_, and the incomparable Mrs. _Behn_ rouse their Courages, and shew Mankind the great injustice of their Contempt. I am confident they would find no such need of the assistance of Languages as is generally imagin’d. [Sidenote: _Ignorance of Latine_ &c. _no disadvantage._] Those that have of their own need not graft upon Foreign Stocks. I have often thought that the not teaching Women Latin and Greek, was an advantage to them, if it were rightly consider’d, and might be improv’d to a great heigth. For Girles after they can Read and Write (if they be of any Fashion) are taught such things as take not up their whole time, and not being suffer’d to run about at liberty as Boys, are furnish’d among other toys with Books, such as _Romances_, _Novels_, _Plays_ and _Poems_; which though they read carelessly only for Diversion, yet unawares to them, give ’em very early a considerable Command both of Words and Sense; which are further improv’d by their making and receiving Visits with their Mothers, which gives them betimes the opportunity of imitating, conversing with, and knowing the manner, and address of elder Persons. These I take to be the true Reasons why a Girl of Fifteen is reckon’d as ripe as a Boy of One and Twenty, and not any natural forwardness of Maturity as some People would have it. These advantages the Education of Boys deprives them of, who drudge away the Vigour of their Memories at Words, useless ever after to most of them, and at Seventeen or Eighteen are to begin their Alphabet of Sense, and are but where the Girles were at Nine or Ten. Yet because they have learnt Latin and Greek, reject with Scorn all _English_ Books their best helps, and lay aside their Latin ones, as if they were already Masters of all that Learning, and so hoist Sail for the wide World without a Compass to Steer by. Thus I have fairly stated the difference between us, and can find no such disparity in Nature or Education as they contend for; but we have a sort of ungenerous Adversaries, that deal more in Scandal than Argument, and when they can’t hurt us with their Weapons, endeavour to annoy us with stink Pots. Let us see therefore, _Madam_, whether we can’t beat them from their Ammunition, and turn their own Artillery upon them; for I firmly believe there is nothing, which they charge upon us, but may with more Justice be retorted upon themselves.
They tax us with a long List of Faults, and Imperfections, and seem to have taken a Catalogue of their own Follies and Vices, not with design to correct them, but to shift of the Imputation to us. There is no doubt, but particular Women may be found upon whom every charge may be justified; but our Sex is not answerable for them, till they prove there are no such Men, which will not be before Dooms-day. However, like ill Neighbours they bring the Dirt out of their own Homes not out of Neatness, but out of Envy to their Neighbours, at whose Doors they lay it. But let them remove their Follies as oft as they please, they are still as constant to them, as the _Needle_ to the _North Pole_, they point them out which way soever they move. Let us see what these Qualities are, they so liberally bestow upon us, and after see how they fit the Donours, and survey ’em in their proper Figures and Colours. The most familiar of these are Vanity, Impertinence, Enviousness, Dissimulation, Inconstancy, _&c._ [Sidenote: _Vanity._] To begin with Vanity, it is a Failing the greatest Part of Mankind are tinctured with, more or less. For all Men are apt to flatter themselves with a Fancy, that they have some one or more good Quallities, or extraordinary Gifts, that raise ’em above the ordinary Level of Men; and therefore hug and cherish, what they think valuable and singular in ’em.
It is never commendable, sometimes pardonable, when the excellencies are real, and it is moderate so much must be allow’d to humane frailty. It is ridiculous and intollerable when it is extravagant, misplac’d, or groundless. It is very injudicious, and makes men commonly dote on their Defects, and expose their blemishes by their Fondness, which makes ’em more remarkable by the care and ornament bestow’d on ’em. It persuades hard Favour’d and distorted Fellows to dress, and value their Persons, Cowards to pretend to Courage, and provoke Beatings, Blockheads to set up for Wit, and make themselves ridiculous in Print, Upstarts to brag of their Families, and be reminded of the Garrets they were born, and the Stalls they were brought up in. In Women the object of it is their Beauty, and is excusable in those that have it. Those that have it not may be pardon’d, if they endeavour at it; because it is the only undisputed advantage our Sex has over the other, and what makes ’em respected beyond all other Perfections, and is alone ador’d. In Men it has not only this Object, but all those before mention’d, and a hundred other. It is admirably seen in a Writing, reciting Fop Author, is in full Lustre in a Beau, but its most unlucky Prospect is in a Swaggering Coward, who is a Fool beyond the Conviction of Smart. [Sidenote: _Character of a Bully._] His Courage is like an Ague Fit, that leaves him upon a Fright, and returns when he is out of the reach of a Cudgel.
He spends much time in the Fencing School, and Fights briskly where there is no danger of Wounds nor Smart. His Hands are instructed, but his Heels do him all the Service. He is a nice observer of Punctilio’s, and takes more Affronts than are given him. He draws first, and runs first, and if ever he makes another Man run, it is after him. He is a Pebble that sparkles like a Diamond, but wants hardness. He talks perpetually of what he will do, but thinks continually of what he shall suffer. He is often in Quarels, yet seldom in Rencounters, and is glad of a Challenge, that he may know whom, and when to avoid. He brings up the Rear at an Engagement, and leads the Van in the Retreat. He is a Man of much Passion, but the most predominant is his Fear. He offers affronts readily, but has too much honour to justifie them, and will submit to any terms of satisfaction rather than occasion Blood-shed. He is so full of Courage, that it boils over when there is no occasion, and his _Sword_ and _Person_ are always at Leisure, and at your Service, till you want them, and then to his great Trouble, he is always indispensably engag’d otherwise. He wears _Red_, and a long _Sword_ openly to shew his Valour, and _Mail_, privately to shew his Discretion.
He threatens terribly, but he is like a Witch, if you draw Blood of him, he has no power to hurt you. No Man shews or boasts more of his Scars with less Reason. He scorns to take a blow in the Face, and a Back-piece is as good to him as a whole sute of Armour. He is at first the Terrour of all the _Young Bullies_, at last their Maygame, and they blood their _Cub Hectors_ upon him, as they do young _Beagles_ on a _Hare_. Good usage makes him insolent, but he fawns like a _Spaniel_ most upon those that beat him. When he is discover’d by all the rest of the World, the Cheat passes still upon himself, and he is pleas’d with the terrible Figure he makes in his Glass, tho’ he is ready to shake at his own Shaddow.
There are men of an humour directly opposite to this, yet e’ry whit as Mad, Foolish, and Vain; these are your Men of nice Honour, that love Fighting for the sake of Blows, and are never well but when they are wounded They are severe Interpreters of Looks, are affronted at every Face that don’t please ’em, and like true Cocks of the Game have a quarrel to all Mankind at first sight. They are passionate Admirers of scarr’d Faces, and dote on a Wooden Leg. They receive a Challenge like a _Billet Douce_, and a home thrust as a Favour. Their common Adversary is the Constable, and their usual Lodging the Counter. Broken heads are a diversion, and an Arm in a Scarfe is a high satisfaction. They are frugal in their expences with the Taylor, for they have their Doublets pinkt on their Backs, but they are as good as an Annuity to the Surgeon, tho’ they need him not to let ’em blood. _Flanders_ is their Mistress, and a Clap from her carries ’em off the Stage. If they return, an _Hospital_ is their Retreat, or the _Sheriff_ their Executour. These two, _Madam_, are very different extravagances, and very strange one’s, yet they are real, and such as appear every day. But, what is most to be wonder’d at, arise both from the same Principle, and the same mistaken Notion, and are only differenc’d by the diversity of Tempers in Men. The common Motive to both is Vanity, and they jointly concurr in this Opinion, that Valour is the most estimable, and most honourable Quality, that Man is capable of; they agree in a desire to be honour’d and fear’d, but they differ in their methods in persuing this common End.
The one is naturally active, bold and daring; and therefore takes the true course to arrive at it by shewing what he can do, by what he dare suffer, and his immoderate desire and indiscretion suffer him to know no bounds. The other is mean Spirited and fearful, and seeks by false Fire to Counterfeit a heat that may pass for genuine to conceal the Frost in his Blood, and like an ill Actor, over-does his Part for want of understanding it, which ’tis impossible he shou’d. Among peaceable Men, and those of his own Temper he comes of with Colours flying, and those are the Men he wou’d be valiant amongst only, cou’d he read Men’s hearts. But the first Rencounter betrays the Ass thro’ the Lions Skin, and he is Cudgel’d like an Ass in Spite of his Covering. It is our happiness _Madam_, that we lie under no manner of Temptation from these two Vanities, [Sidenote: _Imitation ridiculous._] whereof one is so dangerous, the other so ridiculous. For all humours that are forc’d against the natural bent of our tempers must be so. Nature is our best guide, and has fitted ev’ry Man for somethings more particularly than others; which if they had the sense to prosecute, they wou’d at least not be ridiculous, if they were not extaordinary. But so prevalent are our Vanity, and this Apish Humour of Imitation, that we persuade our selves, that we may practise with applause, whatever we see another succeed in, tho’ as contrary to the intent of our Nature, as Dancing to an Elephant; so some Men that talk well of serious matters, are so mov’d at the applause some merry Drolls gain, that they forget their gravity, and aiming to be Wits, turn Buffoons; There are others, that are so taken with the actions and grimace of a good Mimick, that they fall presently to making awkard Faces and wry Mouths, and are all their lives after in a Vizor, Maskt tho’ bare fac’d.
These, and innumerable others of the like Nature, are the lesser Follies of Mankind, by which their Vanity makes ’em fit only to be laugh’d at.
There are others, who by more studied and refin’d Follies arrive to be more considerable, and make a great Figure and Party among their Sex.
Of the first rank of these is the _Beau_, who is one that has more Learning in his Heels than his Head, which is better cover’d than fill’d. His Taylor and his Barber are his Cabinet Councel, to whom he is more beholding for what he is, than to his Maker. He is One that has travell’d to see Fashions, and brought over with him the newest cut suit, and the prettiest Fancy’d Ribbands for Sword Knots. His best Acquaintance at _Paris_ was his Dancing Master, whom he calls the Marquiss, and his chief Visits to the Opera’s. He has seen the _French_ King once, and knows the name of his cheif Minister, and is by this suffciently convinc’d that there are no Politicians in any other Part of the World. His improvements are a nice Skill in the Mode, and a high Contempt of his own Country, and of Sense. All the knowledge he has of the Country, or Manners of it, is in the keeping of the Valet that follow’d him hither, and all that he retains of the Language is a few modish words to lard his discourse with, and shew his Breeding, and the names of his Garniture. He shou’d be a Philosopher, for he studies nothing but himself, yet ev’ry one knows him better, that thinks him not worth knowing. His looks and gestures are his constant Lesson, and his Glass is the Oracle that resolves all his mighty doubts and scruples. He examines and refreshes his Complexion by it, and is more dejected at a Pimple, than if it were a Cancer. When his Eyes are set to a languishing Air, his Motions all prepar’d according to Art, his Wig and his Coat abundantly Powder’d, his Gloves Essenc’d, and his Handkercher perfum’d and all the rest of his Bravery rightly adjusted, the greatest part of the day, as well the business of it at home, is over; ’tis time to launch, and down he comes, scented like a Perfumers Shop, and looks like a Vessel with all her rigging under sail without Ballast. A Chair is brought within the door, for he apprehends every Breath of Air as much, as if it were a Hurricane. His first Vesit is to the _Chocolate_ House, and after a quarter of an Hours Compliment to himself in the great Glass, he faces about and salutes the Company, and puts in practice his Mornings Meditations; When he has made his Cringes round, and play’d over all his Tricks, out comes the fine _Snush Box_, and his _Nose_ is Regal’d a while: After this he begins to open, and starts some learned Arguments about the newest Fashion, and hence takes occasion to commend the next Man’s Fancy in his Cloths, this ushers in a discourse of the Appearance last _Birth Night_, or _Ball_ at Court, and so a Critick upon this _Lord_, or that _Ladies_ Masquing Habit. From hence he adjourns to the _Play-house_, where he is to be met again in the side Box, from whence he makes his Court to all the Ladies in general with his Eyes, and is particular only with the _Orange-Wench_. After a while he engages some neighbouring Vizor, and together they run over all the Boxes, take to Pieces every Face, examine every Feature, pass their Censure upon every one, and so on to their Dress; here he very Judiciously gives his opinion upon every particular, and determines whose Colours are well chosen, whose Fancy is neatest, and whose Cloths fit with most Air; but in conclusion sees no Body compleat but himself in the whole House.
After this he looks down with contempt upon the Pit, and rallies all the slovenly Fellows, and awkard Beau’s (as he calls them) of t’other End of the Town, is mightily offended at their ill scented _Snush_, and in spight of all his _Pulvilio_ and _Essences_, is overcome with the stink of their _Cordovant Gloves_. To close all, _Madam_, in the Mask must give him an account of the Scandal of the Town, which she does in the History of abundance of Intrigues real or feign’d; at all which he laughs aloud and often, not to shew his satisfaction, but his Teeth. She shews him who is kept by such a Lord, Who was lately discarded by such a Knight, for granting favours too indiscreetly to such a Gentleman: who has lately been in the Country for two or three Months upon extraordinary Occasions. To all which he gives great attention, that he may pass for a Man of Intelligence in another Place. His next Stage is _Locket’s_, where his Vanity, not his Stomach, is to be gratified with something that is _little_ and _dear_, _Quails_ and _Ortalans_ are the meanest of his Diet, and a Spoonful of _Green Pease_ at _Christmass_, are worth to him more than the inheritance of the _Feild_ where they grow in _Summer_. Every thing falls in his Esteem, as it falls in price, and he wou’d not so much as tast the _Wine_, if the hard name, and the high rate did not give it a relish. After a glass or two, (for a Pint is his stint) he begins to talk of his Intrigues, boasts much of the Favours he has receiv’d, and shews counterfeit Tokens, and in Conclusion, slanders some Lady or other of unquestion’d Vertue with a particular fondness for him. His Amours are all profound Secrets, yet he makes a Confidence of ’em to every Man he meets with. He pretends a great reverence for the Ladies, and a mighty tenderness of their Reputations; yet he is like a _Flesh Flye_, whatever he blows on is tainted. He talks of nothing under Quality, tho’ he never obtain’d a Favour, which his Man might not have for half a Crown. He and his Footman in this Case are like _English_ and _Dutch_ at an Ordinary in _Holland_, the Fare is the same, but the Price is vastly different. Thus the Show goes forward, till he is beaten for Trespasses he was never guilty of, and shall be damn’d for Sins he never Committed. At last, with his Credit as low as his Fortune he retires sullenly to his Cloister, the _King’s-Bench_, or _Fleet_, and passes the rest of his days in Privacy, and Contemplation. Here, _Madam_, if you please wee’l give him one _Visit_ more, and see the last _Act_ of the _Farce_; and you shall find him (whose Sobriety was before a _Vice_, as being only the _Pimp_ to his other _Pleasures_, and who fear’d a lighted _Pipe_ as much as if it had been a great _Gun_ levell’d at him) with his _Nose Flaming_, and his _Breath_ stinking of Spirits worse than a _Dutch Tarpawlin’s_, and smoking out of a short _Pipe_, that for some Months has been kept hot as constantly as a _Glass-House_, and so I leave him to his Meditation.
You wou’d think it yet more strange, that any one should be _Slovenly_ and _Nasty_ out of _Vanity_; yet such there are I can assure you, _Madam_, and cou’d easily give a description of ’em, but that so foul a Relation must needs be Nauseous to a Person so Neat as your _Self_; and wou’d be treating You as the _Country Squire_ did his _Court Friend_, who when he had shew’d him all the Curiosities of his House and Gardens, carried him into his Hogsties. But there are more than enow to justifie what I have said of the Humour of _Diogenes_, who was as vain and as proud in his _Tub_, as _Plato_ cou’d be in the midst of his fine _Persian Carpets_, and rich _Furniture_. Vanity is only an Ambition of being taken notice of, which shews it self variously according to the humour of the Persons; which was more extravagant in the _Anti-Beau_, than in the _Beau Philosopher_. Vanity is the veriest _Proteus_ in the World, it can Ape _Humility_, and can make Men decry themselves on purpose to be Flattered; like some cunning _Preachers_ that cry up _Mortification_ and _Self-denial_ perpetually, and are pamper’d all the while by the Zeal and at the Charges of their Followers, who are affraid the good Man shou’d starve himself. It is the Blessing of Fools, and the Folly of Ingenious Men. For it makes those contentedly hugg themselves under all the scorn of the World, and the Indignities that are offer’d ’em, and these restless and dissatisfied with its applause. Both think the World envious, and that their merit is injur’d, and it is impossible to right either of ’em to their Minds; for those have no title to the pretence of merit, and these not so much as they think they have. Yet it is the Happiness of the first that they can think themselves capable of moving _Envy_; [Sidenote: _Vanity a Blessing to Fools._] for though they commonly mistake the Derision of Men, for their applause, yet Men are sometimes so ill Natur’d as to undeceive ’em, and then it is their Comfort, that these are envious Men, and misrepresent the Worlds opinion of ’em. Cou’d these Men be convinc’d of their mistake, I see nothing that shou’d hinder them from being desperate, and hanging or disposing of themselves some other such way. For though a Man may comfort himself under Afflictions, it is either that they are undeserved, or if deserved, that he suffers only for Oversights, or rash Acts, by which the wisest Men may be sometimes overtaken; that he is in the main Discreet and Prudent, and that others believe him so. But when a Man falls under his own _Contempt_, and does not only think himself not wise, but by _Nature_ made absolutely incapable of ever becoming _Wise_, he is in a deplorable _State_, and wants the common _Comfort_, as well of _Fools_, as _Wise Men_, Vanity; which in such a Case is the only proper _Mediatour_ of a _Reconcilement_. No Quality seems to be more Providentially distributed to every Man according to his Necessity; for those that have least Wit, ought to have the greatest Opinion of it; as all other Commodities are rated highest, where they are scarcest. By this means the level is better maintain’d amongst Men, who, were this imaginary Equality destroy’d, might be apt to reverence, and idolize one another too much, and forgetting the common Fate, they are all Born to, pay Honours too near divine to their Fellow Mortals. But as the humour of the World now runs, this sort of _Idolatry_ is scarce likely to come into Fashion. We have too great an Opinion of our selves, to believe too well of any one else, and we are in nothing more difficult than in points of Wit and Understanding, in either of which we very unwillingly yield the Preference to any Man. There is nothing of which we affect to speak with more humility and indifference than our own Sense, yet nothing of which we think with more Partiality, and Presumption. There have been some so bold as to assume the Title of the _Oracles_ of _Reason_ to themselves, and their own Writings; and we meet with others daily, that think themselves _Oracles_ of _Wit_. These are the most Vexatious Animals in the World, that think they have a Priviledge to torment and plague every Body; but those most who have the best Reputation for their Wit of Judgment; as _Fleas_ are said to molest those most, who have the tenderest _Skins_, and the sweetest _Blood_.
Of these the most voluminous Fool is the Fop Poet, who is one that has always more Wit in his Pockets than any where else, [Sidenote: _Character of a Poetaster._] yet seldom or never any of his own there.
_Esop_’s _Daw_ was a _Type_ of him; For he makes himself fine with the Plunder of all Parties. He is a Smuggler of Wit, and steals _French_ Fancies without paying the customary Duties. Verse is his _Manufacture_; For it is more the labour of his Finger than his brain. He spends much time in Writing, but ten times more in Reading what he has Written. He is loaden constantly with more Papers, and duller than a _Clerk_ in _Chancery_, and spends more time in _Hearings_, and _Rehearings_. He asks your Opinion, yet for fear you shou’d not jump with him, tells you his own first. He desires no Favour, yet is disappointed, if he be not Flatter’d, and is offended always at the Truth. His first Education is generally a _Shop_, or a _Counting-House_, where his acquaintance commences with the _Bell-man_ upon a new Years day. He puts him upon Intriguing with the _Muses_, and promises to _Pimp_ for him. From this time forward he hates the name of _Mechanick_, and resolves to sell all his stock, and purchase a Plantation in _Parnassas_. He is now a Poetical _Haberdasher_ of _Small Wares_, and deals very much in _Elegies_, and other Toyes from _Helicon_, which he has a Shop so well furnish’d with, that he can fit you with all sorts and Sizes upon all Occasions in the twinkling of an Eye. He frequents _Apollo_’s _Exchange_ in _Covent-Garden_, and picks up the freshest Intelligence what _Plays_ are upon the Stocks, or ready to be launch’d; who have lately made a good Voyage, who a saving one only, and who have suffer’d a Wreck in _Lincoln_’s-_Inn-Feilds_, or _Drury-Lane_, and which are brought into the Dock to be Careen’d and fitted for another Voyage. He talks much of _Jack Dryden_, and _Will. Wyckerley_, and the rest of that Set, and protests he can’t help having some respect for ’em, because they have so much for him, and his Writings; otherwise he cou’d shew ’em to be meer Sots and Blockheads that understand little of Poetry, in comparison of himself; but he forbears ’em meerly out of Gratitude, and Compassion.
Once a Month he fits out a small _Poetical Smeck_ at the charge of his Bookseller, which he lades with _French Plunder_ new Vampt in _English_, small Ventures of _Translated Odes_, _Elegies_ and _Epigrams_ of Young Traders, and ballasts with heavy _Prose_ of his own; for which returns are to be made to the several Owners in Testers, or applause from the Prentices and Tyre Women that deal for ’em. He is the Oracle of those that want Wit, and the Plague of those that have it; for he haunts their Lodgings, and is more terrible to ’em, than their Duns. His Pocket is an unexhaustible Magazine of _Rhime_, and _Nonsense_, and his Tongue like a repeating Clock with Chimes, is ready upon every touch to sound to ’em.
Men avoid him for the same Reason, they avoid the _Pillory_, the security of their _Ears_; of which he is as merciless a Persecutor. He is the Bane of Society, a Friend to the Stationers, the Plague of the Press, and the Ruine of his Bookseller. He is more profitable to the _Grocers_ and _Tabacconists_ than the _Paper Manufacture_; for his Works, which talk so much of Fire and Flame, commonly expire in their Shops in _Vapour_ and _Smoak_. If he aspire to _Comedy_, he intrigues with some experienc’d _Damsel_ of the _Town_, in order to instruct himself in the humour of it, and is cullied by her into _Matrimony_, and so is furnish’d at once with a Plot, and two good Characters, himself and his Wife, and is paid with a Portion for a Jointure in _Parnassus_, which I leave him to make his best of.
I shall not trouble you with any more Instances of the foolish vanities of Mankind; because I am affraid I have been too large upon that Head already. Not that I think there is any Order or Degree of Men, which wou’d not afford many and notorious instances for our Purpose. For as I think _Vanity_ almost the Universal mover of all our Actions, whether good or bad; so I think there are scarce any Men so Ingenious, or so Vertuous, but something of it will shine through the greatest Part of what they do, let them cast never so thick a Vail over it. What makes Men so solicitous of leaving a Reputation behind ’em in the World, though they know they can’t be affected with it after Death, but this even to a degree of Folly? What else makes great Men involve themselves in the Fatigues and Hazards of War, and intricate Intrigues of State, when they have already more than they can enjoy, but an Itch of being talk’d of and remembred, to which they sacrifice their present happiness and repose?
But I shall carry these Considerations no farther; because I have already singled out some of those many whose _Vanity_ is more extravagant and ridiculous, than any our Sex is chargeable with, these slight Touches may serve to let ’em see, that even the greatest, and Wisest are not wholely exempt, if they have it not in a higher Degree, tho’ they exercise it in things more Popular, and Plausible. I hope therefore the burthen of this good Quality will not hereafter be laid upon us alone, but the Men will be contented to divide the Load with us, and be thankful that they bear less than their Proportion.
[Sidenote: _Impertinence._] _Impertinence_ comes next under Consideration, in which I shall be as brief, as I conveniently can, in regard I have been so long upon the precedeing Head. _Impertinence_ is a humour of busying our selves about things trivial, and of no Moment in themselves, or unseasonably in things of no concern to us, or wherein we are able to do nothing to any Purpose. Here our Adversaries insult over us, as if they had gain’d an intire _Victory_, and the _Field_ were indisputable; but they shall have no cause for _Triumph_, this is no Post of such mighty advantage as they fondly persuade themselves. This _Presumption_ arises from an Erroneous Conceit, that all those things in which they are little concern’d, or consulted, [Sidenote: _Commonly mistaken._] are triffles below their care or notice, which indeed they are not by Nature so well able to manage. Thus, when they hear us talking to, and advising one another about the Order, Distribution and Contrivance of _Houshold Affairs_, about the _Regulation_ of the _Family_, and _Government_ of _Children_ and _Servants_, the provident management of a _Kitchin_, and the decent ordering of a _Table_, the suitable _Matching_, and convenient disposition of _Furniture_ and the like, they presently condemn us for impertinence. Yet they may be pleased to consider, that as the affairs of the World are now divided betwixt us, the _Domestick_ are our share, and out of which we are rarely suffer’d to interpose our Sense. They may be pleased to consider likewise, that as light and inconsiderable as these things seem, they are capable of no Pleasures of Sense higher or more refin’d than those of _Brutes_ without our care of ’em. For were it not for that, their Houses wou’d be meer _Bedlams_, their most luxurious Treats, but a rude confusion of ill Digested, ill mixt Scents and Relishes, and the fine Furniture, they bestow so much cost on, but an expensive heap of glittering _Rubbish_. Thus they are beholding to us for the comfortable Enjoyment of what their labour or good Fortune hath acquir’d or bestow’d, and think meanly of our care only, because they understand not the value of it. But if we shall be thought impertinent