Chapter VII: Part 7

I am well aware that some of my readers may smile at this, and think it an enthusiastical working up of the imagination, similar to what I reprobate in the case of Utopian happiness in a state of universal Liberty and Equality. It is like, they will say, to the declamation in a sermon by persons of the trade, who are trained up to finesse, by which they allure and tickle weak minds.

I acknowledge that in the present case I do not address myself to the cold hearts, who contentedly

"_Sink and slumber in their cells of clay_;"

----Peace to all such;----but to the "_felices animæ, quibus hæc cognoscere cura_;"--to those who _have enjoyed_ the pleasures of science, who have been successful--who have made discoveries--who have really illuminated the world--to the Bacons, the Newtons, the Lockes.--Allow me to mention one, Daniel Bernoulli, the most elegant mathematician, the only philosopher, and the most worthy man, of that celebrated family. He said to a gentleman, (Dr. Staehling,) who repeated it to me, that "when reading some of those wonderful guesses of Sir Isaac Newton, the subsequent demonstration of which has been the chief source of fame to his most celebrated commentators--his mind has sometimes been so overpowered by thrilling emotions, that he has wished that moment to be his last; and that it was this which gave him the clearest conception of the happiness of heaven." If such delightful emotions could be excited by the perception of mere truth, what must they be when each of these truths is an instance of wisdom, and when we recollect, that what we call wisdom in the works of nature, is always the nice adaptation of means for producing _beneficent_ ends; and that each of these affecting qualities is susceptible of degrees which are boundless, and exceed our highest conceptions? What can this complex emotion or feeling be but rapture? But Bernoulli is a Doctor of Theology--and therefore a suspicious person, perhaps one of the combination hired by despots to enslave us. I will take another man, a gentleman of rank and family, a soldier, who often signalised himself as a naval commander--who at one time forced his way through a powerful fleet of the Venetians with a small squadron, and brought relief to a distressed garrison. I would desire the reader to peruse the conclusion of Sir Kenhelm Digby's _Treatises on Body and Mind_; and after having reflected on the state of science at the time this author wrote, let him coolly weigh the incitements to manly conduct which this soldier finds in the differences observed between body and mind; and then let him say, on his conscience, whether they are more feeble than those which he can draw from the eternal sleep of death. If he thinks that they are--he is in the proper frame for initiation into Spartacus's higher mysteries. He may be either MAGUS or REX.

Were this a proper place for considering the question as a question of science or truth, I would say, that every man who has been a _successful_ student of nature, and who will rest his conclusions on the same maxims of probable reasoning that have procured him success in his past researches, will consider it as next to certain that there is another state of existence for rational man. For he must own, that if this be not the case, there is a most singular exception to a proposition which the whole course of his experience has made him consider as a truth founded on universal induction, viz. that _nature accomplishes all her plans_, and that every class of beings attains all the improvement of which it is capable. Let him but turn his thoughts inward, he will feel that his intellect is capable of improvement, in comparison with which Newton is but a child. I could pursue this argument very far, and (I think) warm the heart of every man whom I should wish to call my friend.

What opinion will be formed of this Association by the modest, the lowly-minded, the candid, who acknowledge that they too often feel the superior force of present and sensible pleasures, by which their minds are drawn off from the contemplation of what their consciences tell them to be right,--to be their dutiful and filial sentiments and emotions respecting their great and good Parent--to be their dutiful and neighbourly affections, and their proper conduct to all around them--and which diminish their veneration for that purity of thought and moderation of appetite which becomes their noble natures? What must _they_ think of this Order? Conscious of frequent faults, which would offend themselves if committed by their dearest children, they look up to their Maker with anxiety--are grieved to have so far forgotten their duty, and fearful that they may again forget it. Their painful experience tells them that their reason is often too weak, their information too scanty, or its light is obstructed by passion and prejudices, which distort and discolour every thing; or it is unheeded during their attention to present objects. Happy should they be, if it should please their kind Parent to remind them of their duty from time to time, or to influence their mind in any way that would compensate for their own ignorance, their own weakness, or even their indolence and neglect. They dare not expect such a favour, which their modesty tells them they do not deserve, and which they fear may be unfit to be granted; but when such a comfort is held out to them, with eager hearts they receive it--they bless the kindness that granted it, and the hand that brings it.----Such amiable characters have appeared in all ages, and in all situations of mankind. They have not in all instances been wise--often have they been precipitate, and have too readily caught at any thing which pretended to give them the so much wished-for assistances; and, unfortunately, there have been enthusiasts, or villains, who have taken advantage of this, universal wish of anxious man; and the world has been darkened by cheats, who have misrepresented God to mankind, have filled us with vain terrors, and have then quieted our fears by fines, and sacrifices, and mortifications, and services, which they said were more than sufficient to expiate all our faults. Thus was our duty to our neighbour, to our own dignity, and to our Maker and Parent, kept out of sight, and religion no longer came in aid to our sense of right and wrong; but, on the contrary, by these superstitions it opened the doors of heaven to the worthless and the wicked.--But I wish not to speak of these men, but of the good, the candid, the MODEST, the HUMBLE, who know their failings, who love their duties, but wish to know, to perceive, and to love them still more. These are they who think and believe that "the Gospel has brought life and immortality to light," that is, within their reach. They think it worthy of the Father of mankind, and they receive it with thankful hearts, admiring above all things the simplicity of its morality, comprehended in one sentence, "Do to another what you can reasonably wish that another should do to you," and THAT PURITY OF THOUGHT AND MANNERS WHICH DISTINGUISHES IT FROM ALL THE SYSTEMS OF MORAL INSTRUCTION THAT HAVE EVER BEEN OFFERED TO MEN. Here they find a ground of resignation under the troubles of life, and a support in the hour of death, quite suited to the diffidence or their own character. Such men are ready to grant that the Stoics were persons of noble and exalted minds, and that they had worthy conceptions of the rank of man in the scale of God's works; but they confess that they themselves do not feel all that support from Stoical principles which man too frequently needs; and they say that they are not singular in their opinions, but that the bulk of mankind are prevented, by their want of heroic fortitude, by their situation, or their want of the opportunities of cultivating their native strength of mind, from ever attaining this hearty submission to the will of the Deity. They maintain, that the Stoics were but a few, a very few, from among many millions--and therefore _their_ being satisfied was but a trifle amidst the general discontent, and anxiety, and despair.--Such men will most certainly start back from this Illumination with horror and fright--from a Society which gives the lie to their fondest expectations, makes a sport of their grounds of hope, and of their deliverer; and which, after laughing at their credulity, bids them shake off all religion whatever, and denies the existence of that Supreme Mind, the pattern of all excellence, who till now had filled their thoughts with admiration and love--from an Order which pretends to free them from spiritual bondage, and then lays on their necks a load ten times more oppressive and intolerable, from which they have no power of ever escaping. Men of sense and virtue will spurn at such a proposal; and even the profligate, who trade with Deity, must be sensible that they will be better off with their priests, whom they know, and among whom they may make a selection of such as will with patience and gentleness clear up their doubts, calm their fears, and encourage their hopes.

And all good men, all lovers of peace and of justice, will abhor and reject the thought of overturning the present constitution of things, faulty as it may be, merely in the endeavour to establish another, which the vices of mankind may subvert again in a twelvemonth. They must see, that in order to gain their point, the proposers have found it necessary to destroy the grounds of morality, by permitting the most wicked means for accomplishing any end that our fancy, warped by passion or interest, may represent to us as of great importance. They see, that instead of morality, vice must prevail, and that therefore there is no security for the continuance of this Utopian felicity; and, in the mean time, desolation and misery must lay the world waste during the struggle, and half of those for whom we are striving will be swept from the face of the earth. We have but to look to France, where in eight years there have been more executions and spoliations and distresses of every kind by the _pouvoir revolutionnaire_, than can be found in the long records of that despotic monarchy.

There is nothing in the whole constitution of the Illuminati that strikes me with more horror than the proposals of Hercules and Minos to enlist the women in this shocking warfare with all that "is good, and pure, and lovely, and of good report." They could not have fallen on any expedient that will be more effectual and fatal. If any of my countrywomen shall honour these pages with a reading, I would call on them, in the most earnest manner, to consider this as an affair of the utmost importance to themselves. I would conjure them by the regard they have for their own dignity, and for their rank in society, to join against these enemies of human nature and profligate degraders of the sex; and I would assure them that the present state of things almost puts it in their power to be the saviours of the world. But if they are remiss, and yield to the seduction, they will fall from that high state to which they have arisen in Christian Europe, and again sink into that insignificancy or slavery in which the sex is found in all ages and countries out of the hearing of Christianity.

I hope that my countrywomen will consider this solemn address to them as a proof of the high esteem in which I hold them. They will not be offended then if, in this season of alarm and anxiety, when I wish to impress their minds with a serious truth, I shall wave ceremony, which is always designing, and speak of them in honest but decent plainness.

Man is immersed in luxury. Our accommodations are now so numerous that every thing is pleasure. Even in very sober situations in this highly-cultivated Society, there is hardly a thing that remains in the form of a necessary of life, or even of a mere conveniency--every thing is ornamented--it must not appear of use--it must appear as giving some sensible pleasure. I do not say this by way of blaming--it is nature--man is a refining creature, and our most boasted acquirements are but refinements on our necessary wants. Our hut becomes a palace, our blanket a fine dress, and our arts become sciences. This discontent with the natural condition of things, and this disposition to refinement, is a characteristic of our species, and is the great employment of our lives. The direction which this propensity chances to take in any age or nation, marks its character in the most conspicuous and interesting manner. All have it in some degree, and it is very conceivable that, in some, it may constitute the chief object of attention. If this be the case in any nations, it is surely most likely to be so in those where the accommodations of life are the most numerous--therefore in a rich and luxurious nation. I may surely, without exaggeration or reproach, give that appellation to our own nation at this moment. If you do not go to the very lowest class of people, who must labour all day, is it not the chief object of all to procure _perceptible pleasure_ in one way or another? The sober and busy struggle in the thoughts and hopes of getting the means of enjoying the _comforts_ of life without farther labour--and many have no other object than pleasure.

Then let us reflect that it is woman that is to _grace_ the whole.--It is in nature, it is the very constitution of man, that woman, and every thing connected with woman, must appear as the ornament of life. That this mixes with every other social sentiment, appears from the conduct of our species in all ages and in every situation. This I presume would be the case even though there were no qualities in the sex to justify it. This sentiment respecting the sex is necessary, in order to rear so helpless, so nice, and so improveable a creature as man; without it, the long abiding task could not be performed:--and I think that I may venture to say that it is performed in the different states of society nearly in proportion as this preparatory and indispensable sentiment is in force.

On the other hand, I think it no less evident that it is the desire of the women to be agreeable to the men, and that they will model themselves according to what they think will please. Without this adjustment of sentiments by nature, nothing would go on. We never observe any such want of symmetry in the works of God. If, therefore, those who take the lead, and give the fashion in society, were wise and virtuous, I have no doubt but that the women would set the brightest pattern of every thing that is excellent. But if the men are nice and fastidious sensualists, the women will be refined and elegant voluptuaries.

There is no deficiency in the female mind, either in talents or in dispositions; nor can we say with certainty that there is any subject of intellectual or moral discussion in which women have not excelled. If the delicacy of their constitution, and other physical causes, allow the female sex a smaller share of some mental powers, they possess others in a superior degree, which are no less respectable in their own nature, and of as great importance to society. Instead of descanting at large on their powers of mind, and supporting my assertions by the instances of a Hypatia, a Schurman, a Zenobia, an Elizabeth, &c. I may repeat the account given of the sex by a person of uncommon experience, who saw them without disguise, or any motive that could lead them to play a feigned part--Mr. Ledyard, who traversed the greatest part of the world, for the mere indulgence of his taste for observation of human nature; generally in want, and often in extreme misery.

"I have (says he) always remarked that women, in all countries, are civil, obliging, tender, and humane: that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest; and that they do not hesitate, like men, to perform a kind or generous action.--Not haughty, not arrogant, not supercilious, they are full of courtesy, and fond of society--more liable in general to err than man, but in general, also, more virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. To a woman, whether civilized or savage, I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship--without receiving a decent and friendly answer--with man it has often been otherwise.

"In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide spread regions of the wandering Tartar,--if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so; and to add to this virtue, (so worthy of the appellation of benevolence,) these actions have been performed in so free and so kind a manner, that if I was thirsty, I drank the sweetest draught, and if hungry, I ate the coarse meal with a double relish."

And these are they whom Weishaupt would corrupt! One of these, whom he had embraced with fondness, would he have murdered, to save his honour, and qualify himself to preach virtue! But let us not be too severe on Weishaupt--let us wash ourselves clear of all stain before we think of reprobating him. Are we not guilty in some degree, when we do not cultivate in the women those powers of mind, and those dispositions of heart, which would equally dignify them in every station as in those humble ranks in which Mr. Ledyard most frequently saw them? I cannot think that we do this. They are not only to _grace_ the whole of cultivated society, but it is in their faithful and affectionate personal attachment that we are to find the sweetest pleasures that life can give. Yet in all these situations where the manner in which they are treated is not dictated by the stern laws of necessity, are they not trained up for mere amusement--are not serious occupations considered as a task which hurts their loveliness? What is this but selfishness, or as if they had no virtues worth cultivating? Their _business_ is supposed to be the ornamenting themselves, as if nature did not dictate this to them already, with at least as much force as is necessary. Every thing is prescribed to them _because it makes them more lovely_--even their moral lessons are enforced by this argument, and Miss Woolstoncraft is perfectly right when she says that the fine lessons given to young women by Fordyce or Rousseau are nothing but selfish and refined voluptuousness. This advocate of her sex puts her sisters in the proper point of view, when she tells them that they are, like man, the subjects of God's moral government,--like man, preparing themselves for boundless improvement in a better state of existence. Had she adhered to this view of the matter, and kept it constantly in sight, her book (which doubtless contains many excellent things, highly deserving of their serious consideration) would have been a most valuable work. She justly observes, that the virtues of the sex are great and respectable, but that in our mad chace of pleasure, only pleasure, they are little thought of or attended to. Man trusts to his own uncontroulable power, or to the general goodness of the sex, that their virtues will appear when we have occasion for them;--"but we will send for these some other time:"--Many noble displays do they make of the most difficult attainments. Such is the patient bearing up under misfortunes, which has no brilliancy to support it in the effort. This is more difficult than braving danger in an active and conspicuous situation. How often is a woman left with a family, and the shattered remains of a fortune, lost perhaps by dissipation or by indolence--and how seldom, how very seldom, do we see woman shrink from the task, or discharge it with negligence? Is it not therefore folly next to madness, not to be careful of this our greatest blessing--of things which so nearly concern our peace--nor guard ourselves, and these our best companions and friends, from the effects of this fatal Illumination? It has indeed brought to light what dreadful lengths men will go, when under the fanatical and dazzling glare of happiness in a state of liberty and equality, and spurred on by insatiable luxury, and not held in check by moral feelings and the restraints of religion--and mark, reader, that the women have here also taken the complexion of the men, and have even gone beyond them. If we have seen a son present himself to the National Assembly of France, professing his satisfaction with the execution of his father three days before, and declaring himself a true citizen, who prefers the nation to all other considerations; we have also seen, on the same day, wives denouncing their husbands, and (O shocking to human nature!) mothers denouncing their sons, as bad citizens and traitors. Mark too what return the women have met with for all their horrid services, where, to express their sentiments of civism and abhorrence of royalty, they threw away the character of their sex, and bit the amputated limbs of their murdered countrymen[10]. Surely these patriotic women merited that the rights of their sex should be considered in full council, and they were well entitled to a seat; but there is not a single act of their government in which the sex is considered as having any rights whatever, or that they are things to be cared for.

[10] I say this on the authority of a young gentleman, an emigrant,
who saw it, and who said, that they were women, not of the dregs of
the Palais Royal, nor of infamous character, but well dressed.--I am
sorry to add, that the relation, accompanied with looks of horror
and disgust, only provoked a contemptuous smile from an illuminated
British Fair-one.

Are not the accursed fruits of Illumination to be seen in the present humiliating condition of woman in France? pampered in every thing that can reduce them to the mere instruments of animal pleasure. In their present state of national moderation (as they call it) and security, see Madame Tallien come into the public theatre, accompanied by other _beautiful_ women, (I was about to have misnamed them Ladies,) laying aside all modesty, and presenting themselves to the public view, with bared limbs, _à la Sauvage_, as the alluring objects of desire. I make no doubt but that this is a serious matter, encouraged, nay, prompted by government. To keep the minds of the Parisians in the present fever of dissolute gaiety, they are at more expence from the national treasury for the support of the sixty theatres, than all the pensions and honorary offices in Britain, three times told, amount to. Was not their abominable farce in the church of Notre Dame a bate of the same kind in the true spirit of Weishaupt's _Eroterion_? "We do not," said the high priest, "call you to the worship of inanimate idols. Behold a master-piece of nature, (lifting up the veil which concealed the naked charms of the beautiful Madms. Barbier): This sacred image should inflame all hearts." And it did so; the people shouted out, "No more altars, no more priests, no God but the God of Nature."

Orleans, the first prince of the blood, did not scruple to prostitute his daughter, if not to the embraces, yet to the wanton view of the public, with the precise intention of inflaming their desires. (See the account given of the dinners at Sillery's, by Camille Desmoulines, in his speech against the Brissotins.) But what will be the end of all this? The fondlings of the wealthy will be pampered in all the indulgences which fastidious voluptuousness finds necessary for varying or enhancing its pleasures; but they will either be slighted as toys, or they will be immured; and the companions of the poor will be drudges and slaves.

I am fully persuaded that it was the enthusiastic admiration of Grecian democracy that recommended to the French nation the dress _à la Grecque_, which exhibits not the elegant, ornamented beauty, but the alluring female, fully as well as Madame Tallien's dress _à la Sauvage_. It was no doubt with the same adherence to _serious principle_, that Mademoiselle Therouanne was most beautifully dressed _à l'Amazonne_ on the 5th of October 1789, when she turned the heads of so many young officers of the regiments at Versailles. The Cythera, the _hominum divunque voluptas_, at the cathedral of Notre Dame, was also dressed _à la Grecque_: There is a most evident and characteristic change in the whole system of female dress in France. The _Filles de l'Opera_ always gave the _ton_, and were surely withheld by no rigid principle. They sometimes produced very extravagant and fantastic forms, but these were almost always in the style of the highest ornament, and they trusted, for the rest of the impression which they wished to make, to the fascinating expression of elegant movements. This indeed was wonderful, and hardly conceivable by any who have not seen a grand ballet performed by good actors. I have shed tears of the most sincere and tender sorrow during the exhibition of Antigone, set to music by Traëtta, and performed by Madame Meilcour and S^{re} Torelli, and Zantini. I can easily conceive the impression to be still stronger, though perhaps of another kind, when the former superb dresses are changed for the expressive simplicity of the Grecian. I cannot help thinking that the female ornaments in the rest of Europe, and even among ourselves, have less elegance since we lost the sanction of the French court. But see how all this will terminate, when we shall have brought the sex so low, and will not even wait for a Mahometan paradise. What can we expect but such a dissoluteness of manners, that the endearing ties of relation and family, and mutual confidence within doors, will be slighted, and will cease; and every man must stand up for himself, single and alone?

_Foecunda culpæ sæcula nuptias
Primum inquinavêre, et genus, et domos.
Hoc fonte derivata clades
In patriam populumque fluxit._

HOR. iii. 6. 17.

This is not the suggestion of prudish fear, I think it is the natural course of things, and that France is at this moment giving to the world the fullest proof of Weishaupt's sagacity, and the judgment with which he has formed his plans. Can it tend to the improvement of our morals or manners to have our ladies frequent the gymnastic theatres, and see them decide, like the Roman matrons, on the merits of a naked gladiator or wrestler? Have we not enough of this already with our vaulters and posture-masters, and should we admire any lady who had a rage for such spectacles? Will it improve our taste to have our rooms ornamented with such paintings and sculptures as filled the cenaculum, and the study of the refined and elegant moralist Horace, who had the art--_ridendo dicere verum_? Shall we be improved when such indulgences are thought compatible with such lessons as he generally gives for the conduct of life? The pure Morality of Illuminatism is now employed in stripping Italy of all those precious remains of ancient art and voluptuousness; and Paris will ere long be the deposit and the resort of artists from all nations, there to study the works of ancient masters, and to return from thence panders of public corruption. The plan is masterly, and the low-born Statesmen and Generals of France may in this respect be set on a level with a Colbert or a Condé. But the consequences of this Gallic dominion over the minds of fallen man will be as dreadful as their dominion over their lives and fortunes.

Recollect in what manner Spartacus proposed to corrupt his sisters (for we need not speak of the manner in which he expected that this would promote his plan--this is abundantly plain). It was by destroying their moral sentiments, and their sentiments of religion. Recollect what is the recommendation that the Atheist Minos gives of his step-daughters, when he speaks of them, as proper persons for the Lodge of Sisters. "They have got over all prejudices, and, in matters of religion they think as I do." These profligates judged rightly that this affair required much caution, and that the utmost attention to decency, and even delicacy, must be observed in their rituals and ceremonies, otherwise the women would be _disgusted_. This was judging fairly of the feelings of a female mind. But they judged falsely, and only according to their own coarse experience, when they attributed their _disgust_ and their fears to coyness. Coyness is indeed the instinctive attribute of the female. In woman it is very great, and it is perhaps the genuine source of the disgust of which the Illuminati were suspicious. But they have been dim-sighted indeed, or very unfortunate in their acquaintance, if they never observed any other source of repugnance in the mind of woman to what is immoral or immodest--if they did not see dislike--moral disapprobation. Do they mean to insinuate, that in that regard which modest women express in all their words and actions, for what every one understands by the terms decency, modesty, and the disapprobation of every thing that violates those feelings, the women only show female coyness? Then are they very blind instructors. But they are not so blind. The account given of the initiation of a young Sister at Frankfort, under the feigned name _Psycharion_, shows the most scrupulous attention to the moral feelings of the sex; and the confusion and disturbance which, after all their care, it occasioned among the ladies, shows, that when they thought all right and delicate, they had been but coarse judges. Minos damns the ladies there, because they are too free, too rich, too republican, and too wise, for being led about by the nose (this is his own expression). But Philo certainly thought more correctly of the sex in general, when he says, Truth is a modest girl: She may be handed about like a lady, by good sense and good manners, but must not be bullied and driven about like a strumpet. I would here insert the discourses or addresses which were made on that occasion to the different classes of the assembly, girls, young ladies, wives, young men, and strangers, which are really ingenious and well composed, were they not such as would offend my fair countrywomen.

The religious sentiments by which mortals are to be assisted, even in the discharge of their moral duties, and still more, the sentiments which are purely religious, and have no reference to any thing here, are precisely those which are most easily excited in the mind of woman. Affection, admiration, filial reverence, are, if I mistake not exceedingly, those in which the women far surpass the men; and it is on this account that we generally find them so much disposed to devotion, which is nothing but a sort of fond indulgence of those affections without limit to the imagination. The enraptured devotee pours out her soul in expressions of these feelings, just as a fond mother mixes the caresses given to her child with the most extravagant expressions of love. The devotee even endeavours to excite higher degrees of these affections, by expatiating on such circumstances in the divine conduct with respect to man as naturally awaken them; and he does this without any fear of exceeding; because Infinite Wisdom and Goodness will always justify the sentiment, and free the expression of it from all charge of hyperbole or extravagance.

I am convinced, therefore, that the female mind is well adapted to cultivation by means of religion, and that their native softness and kindness of heart will always be sufficient for procuring it a favourable reception from them. It is therefore with double regret that I see any of them join in the arrogant pretensions of our Illuminated philosophers, who see no need of such assistances for the knowledge and discharge of their duties. There is nothing so unlike that general modesty of thought, and that diffidence, which we are disposed to think the character of the female mind. I am inclined to think, that such deviations from the general conduct of the sex are marks of a harsher character, of a heart that has less sensibility, and is on the whole less amiable than that of others. Yet it must be owned that there are some such among us. Much, if not the whole of this perversion, has, I am persuaded, been owing to the contagion of bad example in the men. They are made familiar with such expressions--their first horror is gone, and (would to heaven that I were mistaken!) some of them have already wounded their consciences to such a degree, that they have some reason to wish that religion may be without foundation.

But I would call upon all, and _these_ women in particular, to consider this matter in another light--as it may affect themselves in this life; as it may affect their rank and treatment in ordinary society. I would say to them, that if the world shall once adopt the belief that this life is our all, then the true maxim of rational conduct will be, to "eat and to drink, since to-morrow we are to die;" and that when they have nothing to trust to but the fondness of the men, they will soon find themselves reduced to slavery. The crown which they now wear will fall from their heads, and they will no longer be the arbiters of what is lovely in human life. The empire of beauty is but short; and even in republican France, it will not be many years that Madame Tallien can fascinate the Parisian Theatre by the exhibition of her charms. Man is fastidious and changeable, he is the stronger animal, and can always take his own will with respect to woman. At present he is with-held by respect for her moral worth--and many are with-held by religion--and many more are with-held by public laws, which laws were framed at a time when religious truths influenced the minds and the conduct of men. When the sentiments of men change, they will not be so foolish as to keep in force laws which cramp their strongest desires. Then will the rich have their Harems, and the poor their drudges.

Nay, it is not merely the circumstance of woman's being considered as the moral companion of man that gives the sex its empire among us. There is something of this to be observed in all nations. Of all the distinctions which set our species above the other sentient inhabitants of this globe, making us as unlike to the best of them as they are to a piece of inanimate matter, there is none more remarkable than the differences observable in the appearances of those desires by which the race is continued. As I observed already, such a distinction is indispensably necessary. There must be a _moral_ connexion, in order that the human species may be a race of rational creatures, improveable, not only by the increasing experience of the individual, but also by the heritable experience of the successive generations. It may be observed between the solitary pairs in Labrador, where human nature starves, like the stunted oak in the crevice of a baron rock and it is seen in the cultivated societies of Europe, where our nature in a series of ages becomes a majestic tree. Whatever may be the native powers of mind in the poor but gentle Esquimaux, she can do nothing for the species but nurse a young one, who cannot run his race of life without incessant and hard labour to keep soul and body together--here therefore her station in society can hardly have a name, because there can hardly be said to be any association, except what is necessary for repelling the hostile attacks of Indians, who seem to hunt them without provocation as the dog does the hare. In other parts of the world, we see that the consideration in which the sex is held, nearly follows the proportions of that aggregate of many different particulars, which we consider as constituting the cultivation of a society. We may perhaps err, and we probably do err, in our estimation of those degrees, because we are not perfectly acquainted with what is the real excellence of man. But as far as we _can_ judge of it, I believe that my assertion is acknowledged. On this authority, I might presume to say, that it is in Christian Europe that man _has_ attained his highest degree of cultivation--and it is undoubtedly here that the women have attained the highest rank. I may even add, that it is in that part of Europe where the essential and distinguishing doctrines of Christian morality are most generally acknowledged and attended to by the laws of the country, that woman acts the highest part in general society. But here we must be very careful how we form our notion, either of the society, or of the female rank--it is surely not from the two or three dozens who fill the highest ranks in the state. Their number is too small, and their situation is too particular, to afford the proper average. Besides, the situation of the individuals of this class in all countries is very much the same--and in all it is very artificial--accordingly their character is fantastical. Nor are we to take it from that class that is the most numerous of all, the lowest class of society, for these are the labouring poor, whose conduct and occupations are so much dictated to them by the hard circumstances of their situation, that scarcely any thing is left to their choice. The situation of women of this class must be nearly the same in all nations. But this class is still susceptible of some variety--and we see it--and I think that even here there is a perceptible superiority of the female rank in those countries where the purest Christianity prevails. We must however take our measures or proportions from a numerous class, but also a class in somewhat of easy circumstances, where moral sentiments call some attention, and persons have some choice in their conduct. And here, although I cannot pretend to have had many opportunities of observation, yet I have had some. I can venture to say that it is not in Russia, nor in Spain, that woman is, on the whole, the most important as a member of the community. I would say, that in Britain her important rights are more generally respected than any where else. No where is a man's character so much hurt by conjugal infidelity--no where is it so difficult to rub off the stigma of bastardy, or to procure a decent reception or society for an improper connection; and I believe it will readily be granted, that the share of the women in successions, their authority in all matters of domestic trust, and even their opinions in what concerns life and manners, are fully more respected here than in any country.

I have long been of the opinion, (and every observation that I have been able to make since I first formed it confirms me in it,) that woman is indebted to Christianity alone for the high rank she holds in society. Look into the writings of antiquity--into the works of the Greek and Latin poets--into the numberless panegyrics of the sex, to be found both in prose and verse--I can find little, very little indeed, where woman is treated with respect--there is no want of love, that is, of fondness, of beauty, of charms, of graces. But of woman as the equal of man, as a moral companion, travelling with him the road to felicity--as his adviser--his solace in misfortune--as a pattern from which he may sometimes copy with advantage;--of all this there is hardly a trace. Woman is always mentioned as an object of passion. Chastity, modesty, sober-mindedness, are all considered in relation to this single point; or sometimes as of importance in respect of economy or domestic quiet. Recollect the famous speech of Meteltellus Numidicus to the Roman people, when, as, Censor, he was recommending marriage.

"Si fine uxore possemus Quirites esse, omnes eâ molestiâ careremus. Sed quoniam ita natura tradidit, ut nec cum illis commodè, nec fine illis ullo modo vivi posset, saluti perpetuæ potius quam brevi voluptati consulendum."

_Aul. Gell. Noct. Att. I. 6._

* * * * *

What does Ovid, the great panegyrist of the sex, say for his beloved daughter, whom he had praised for her attractions in various places of his Tristia and other compositions? He is writing her Epitaph--and the only thing he can say of her as a rational creature is, that she was--_Domisida_--not a Gadabout.--Search Apuleius, where you will find many female characters _in abstracto_--You will find that his little Photis (a cook-maid and strumpet) was nearest to his heart, after all his philosophy. Nay, in his pretty story of Cupid and Psyche, which the very wise will tell you is a fine lesson of moral philosophy, and a representation of the operations of the intellectual and moral faculties of the human soul, a story which gave him the finest opportunity, nay, almost made it necessary for him to insert whatever can ornament the female character; what is his Psyche but a beautiful, fond, and silly girl; and what are the whole fruits of any acquaintance with the sex?--Pleasure. But why take more pains in the search?--Look at their immortal goddesses--is there one among them whom a wise man would select for a wife or a friend?--I grant that a Lucretia is praised--a Portia, an Arria, a Zenobia--but these are individual characters--not representatives of the sex. The only Grecian ladies who made a figure by intellectual talents, were your Aspasias, Sapphos, Phrynes, and other nymphs of this cast, who had emerged from the general insignificance of the sex, by throwing away what we are accustomed to call its greatest ornament.

I think that the first piece in which woman is pictured as a respectable character, is the oldest novel that I am acquainted with, written by a Christian Bishop, Heliodorus--I mean the Adventures of Theagenes and Chariclea. I think that the Heroine is a greater character than you will meet with in all the annals of antiquity. And it is worth while to observe what was the effect of this painting. The poor Bishop had been deposed, and even excommunicated, for doctrinal errors, and for drawing such a picture of a heathen. The magistrates of Antioch, the most voluptuous and corrupted city of the East, wrote to the Emperor, telling him that this book had reformed the ladies of their city, where Julian the Emperor and his Sophists had formerly preached in vain, and they therefore prayed that the good Bishop might not be deprived of his mitre.--It is true, we read of Hypatia, daughter of Theon, the mathematician at Alexandria, who was a prodigy of excellence, and taught philosophy, _i. e._ the art of leading a good and happy life, with great applause in the famous Alexandrian school.--But she also was in the times of Christianity, and was the intimate friend of Syncellus and other Christian Bishops.

It is undoubtedly Christianity that has set woman on her throne, making her in every respect the equal of man, bound to the same duties, and candidate for the same happiness. Mark how woman is described by a Christian poet,

----"Yet when I approach
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems,
And in herself complete, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say
Seems _wisest_, _virtuousest_, _discreetest_, _best_.

Neither her outside, form'd so fair,----
So much delights me, as _those graceful acts_,
_Those thousand decencies_ that daily flow
From all her words and actions, mix'd with love
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd
_Union of mind, or in us both one soul_.

----And, to consummate all,
_Greatness of mind_, and _nobleness_, their seat
Build in her loveliest, _and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic plac'd_."

MILTON.

This is really moral painting, without any abatement of female charms.

This is the natural consequence of that purity of heart, which is so much insisted on in the Christian morality. In the instructions of the heathen philosophers, it is either not mentioned at all, or at most, it is recommended coldly, as a thing proper, and worthy of a mind attentive to great things.--But, in Christianity, it is insisted on as an indispensable duty, and enforced by many arguments peculiar to itself.

It is worthy of observation, that the most prominent superstitions which have dishonoured the Christian churches, have been the excessive refinements which the enthusiastic admiration of heroic purity has allowed the holy trade to introduce into the manufacture of our spiritual fetters. Without this enthusiasm, cold expediency would not have been able to make the Monastic vow so general, nor have given us such numbers of convents. These were generally founded by such enthusiasts--the rulers indeed of the church _encouraged_ this to the utmost, as the best levy for the spiritual power--but they could not _enjoin_ such foundations. From the same source we may derive the chief influence of auricular confession. When these were firmly established, and were venerated, almost all the other corruptions of Christianity followed of course. I may almost add, that though it is here that Christianity has suffered the most violent attacks, it is here that the place is most tenable.--Nothing tends so much to knit all the ties of society as the endearing connections of family, and whatever tends to lessen our veneration for the marriage-contract, weakens them in the most effectual manner. Purity of manners is the most effectual support, and pure thoughts are the only sources from which pure manners can flow. I readily grant that in former times this veneration for personal purity was carried to an extravagant height, and that several very ridiculous fancies and customs arose from this. Romantic love and chivalry are strong instances of the strange vagaries of our imagination, when carried along by this enthusiastic admiration of female purity; and so unnatural and forced, that they could only be temporary fashions. But I believe that, with all their ridicule, it would be a happy nation where this was the general creed and practice. Nor can I help thinking a nation on its decline, when the domestic connections cease to be venerated, and the illegitimate offspring of a nabob or a nobleman are received with ease into good company.

Nothing is more clear than that the design of the Illuminati was to abolish Christianity--and we now see how effectual this would be for the corruption of the fair sex, a purpose which they eagerly wished to gain, that they might corrupt the men. But if the women would retain the rank they now hold, they will be careful to preserve in full force on their minds this religion, so congenial to their dispositions, which nature has made affectionate and kind.

And with respect to the men, is it not egregious folly to encourage any thing that can tend to blast our sweetest enjoyments? Shall we not do this most effectually if we attempt to corrupt what nature will always make us consider as the highest elegance of life? The divinity of the Stoics was, "_Mens sana in corpore sano_,"--but it is equally true,

"_Gratior est pulchro veniens e corpore virtus_."

If, therefore, instead of professedly tainting what is of itself beautiful, we could really work it up to

"That fair form, which, wove in fancy's loom,
"Floats in light visions round the poet's head,"

and make woman a pattern of perfection, we should undoubtedly add more to the heartfelt happiness of life than by all the discoveries of the Illuminati. See what was the effect of Theagenes and Chariclea.

And we should remember that with the fate of woman that of man is indissolubly knit. The voice of nature spoke through our immortal bard, when he made Adam say,

----"From thy state
"Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe."

Should we suffer the contagion to touch our fair partner, all is gone, and too late shall we say,

"O fairest of creation! last and best
"Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd
"Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd,
"_Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet_!
"How art thou lost,--and now to death devote?
"And _me_ with _thee_ hast ruin'd; for with thee
"Certain my resolution is to die."

CHAP. III.

_The German Union._

When such a fermentation had been excited in the public mind, it cannot be supposed that the formal suppression of the Order of the Illuminati in Bavaria, and in the Duchy of Wirtemberg, by the reigning princes, would bring all to rest again. By no means. The minds of men were predisposed for a change by the restless spirit of speculation in every kind of enquiry, and the leaven had been carefully and skilfully disseminated in every quarter of the empire, and even in foreign countries. Weishaupt said, on good grounds, that "if the Order should be discovered and suppressed, he would restore it with tenfold energy in a twelvemonth." Even in those states where it was formally abolished, nothing could hinder the enlisting new members, and carrying on all the purposes of the Order. The Areopagitæ might indeed be changed, and the seat of the direction transferred to some other place, but the Minerval and his Mentor could meet as formerly, and a ride of a few miles into another State, would bring him to a Lodge, where the young would be amused, and the more advanced would be engaged in serious mischief. Weishaupt never liked children's play. He indulged Philo in it, because he saw him taken with such rattles: but his own projects were dark and solemn, and it was a relief to him now to be freed from that mummery. He soon found the bent of the person's mind on whom he had set his talons, and, he says, that "no man ever escaped him whom he thought it worth while to secure." He had already filled the lists with enough of the young and gay, and when the present condition of the Order required sly and experienced heads, he no longer courted them by play-things. He communicated the ranks and the instructions by a letter, without any ceremony. The correspondence with Philo at the time of the breach with him, shews the superiority of Spartacus. Philo is in a rage, provoked to find a pitiful professor discontented with the immense services which he had received from a gentleman of his rank, and treating him with authority, and with disingenuity.--He tells Spartacus what still greater services he can do the Order, and that he can also ruin it with a breath.--But in the midst of this rage, he proposes a thousand modes of reconcilement. The smallest concession would make him hug Spartacus in his arms. But Spartacus is deaf to all his threats, and firm as a rock. Though he is conscious of his own vile conduct, he abates not in the smallest point, his absolute authority--requires the most implicit submission, which he says "is due not to him, but to the Order, and without which the Order must immediately go to ruin."--He does not even deign to challenge Philo to do his worst, but allows him to go out of the Order without one angry word. This shows his confidence in the energy of that spirit of restless discontent, and that hankering after reform which he had so successfully spread abroad.

This had indeed arisen to an unparalleled height, unexpected even by the seditious themselves. This appeared in a remarkable manner by the reception given to the infamous letters on the constitution of the Prussian States.

The general opinion was, that Mirabeau was the author of the letters themselves, and it was perfectly understood by every person, that the translation into French was a joint contrivance of Mirabeau and Nicholai. I was assured of this by the British Minister at that Court. There are some blunders in respect of names, which an inhabitant of the country could hardly be guilty of, but are very consistent with the self-conceit and precipitancy of this Frenchman.--There are several instances of the same kind in two pieces, which are known for certain to be his, viz. the _Chronique scandaleuse_ and the _Histoire secrette de la Cour de Berlin_. These letters were in every hand, and were mentioned in every conversation, even in the Prussian dominions--and in other places of the empire they were quoted, and praised, and commented on, although some of their contents were nothing short of rebellion.