An Essay in Defence of the Female Sex/Section 8

Envy is the Parent of Calumny, and the Daughter of Jealouie. Men eldom envy others, till they fear being out trip&rsquo;d by &rsquo;em in Fortune or Reputation. It is the mot criminal, becaue the mot injurious to Vertue, and worth of all our natural Failings, againt which it&rsquo;sits [sic] Malice is generally bent. This vice and Jealouie eem to be more particularly hated of Providence than any other; For they carry their Punihment ineparably along with &rsquo;em, The Envious and the Jealous need no other Tormentours than their own Thoughts. The Envious Man ruines his own to diturb anothers Tranquillity, and acrifices his own Happines and Repoe to a pervere Deire of troubling his Neighbours. He feeds like Toads upon the Venome of the Earth, and ucks in Scandal greedily, that he may at Pleaure digorge it to the greater annoyance of other Men. His mind has the Vapours, a Sweet Report of any one throws it into Convulions, and Agonies, and a foul one is the Relief and Refrehment of it. A wholeome Air free from the Blats of Detraction and Slander is as certainly pernicious to him, as Ireland to Frogs and Toads. This Vice is generally diclaim&rsquo;d by both Sexes, yet generally practic&rsquo;d by both. Men love as little to have their Reputation as their Chimneys over-topt by their Neighbours; For they think by that means their names become dark, as their Houes do moaky by the other: Yet thro&rsquo; a lazy Malignity had rather pull the other&rsquo;s down to their Level, than build their own up higher. This Humour prevails indeed, yet not in equal Meaure in both Sexes. For as we have confeedly les Ambition, o have we apparently les of this Poion which uually attends it, and aries from a elf Intereted Principle, which makes &rsquo;em endeavour by bae initer means to level that Merit which they think tands in their way to Preferment, and which they depair of being able to urmount by honourable attempts. For what need any one ue bae Sleights to top the Man, whom by fair Speed he thought he cou&rsquo;d overtake. No ooner is any Man rais&rsquo;d to any Eminence in the World, but half the Sex at leat join in Confederacy to raie a Battery of Scandal againt him, to bring him down again. Honour is the Pillory of great Deert, whither a Man is no ooner rais&rsquo;d, but the vile Racally inferiour Croud gather immediately together, to throw Dirt at him, and make that which was intended as a Grace, and Reward, but a more honourable Punihment. Our Sex eldom arrive to this Pitch of Envy, our Ambition is more bounded, and our Deires ooner atisfied. Hence it is that we are le troubl&rsquo;d at the Properity of others; for not giving our elves the Liberty of aiming at things far out of our Power, they are the ooner compas&rsquo;d, and we the ooner at Eae. He, that thinks himelf Happy, is incapable of Envying another&rsquo;s Felicity, ince he ees him poes&rsquo;d of nothing which either he has not or depies not. Yet it mut be confes&rsquo;d that the leer Piques and Grudgings are daily to be met with among us, but no les among Men. What is it that pawns daily uch Fryes of Satyrits without Wit, and Criticks without Judgment, but this humour of carping, and nibbling at the Reputation of others? But they are generally abundantly furniht with Impudence, a good Quality that commonly upplies largely the want of all other. A Critick of this ort is one that for want of Wit ets up for Judgment; yet he has o much Ambition to be thought a Wit, that he lets his Spleen prevail againt Nature, and turns Poet. In this Capacity he is as jut to the World as in the other Injurious. For as the Critick wrong&rsquo;d ev&rsquo;ry Body in his Cenure, and narl&rsquo;d, and grin&rsquo;d at their Writings, the Poet gives &rsquo;em Opportunity to do themelves Jutice, to return the Compliment and laugh at or depie his. He wants nothing but Wit to fit him for a Satyrit, yet he has Gall and Vanity enough to dipence with that Want, and write without it. His works are Libells upon others, but Satyrs upon himelf, and while they Bark at Men of Wit, call him Fool that writ &rsquo;em. He takes his Malice for a Mue, and thinks himelf inpir&rsquo;d when he is only Poes&rsquo;d, and blown up with a Flatus of Envy and Vanity. His great helps to Poetry are Crambo, and Arithmetick, by which he apires to Chime, and Numbers, yet mitakes frequently in the tale of his Fingers. He has a very great Antipathy to his own Species, and hates to ee a Fool any where but in his Glas. For (as he says) they Provoke him And offend his Eyes: He Follows &rsquo;em in his way: He knows, to ay no more that Whit is carce, to gingle out a Rhime, or tag a Vere: Or Cobble wretched Proe to numerous Lines: There if he has a Genius there it hines. His Fund of Criticim is a Set of Terms of Art pickt out of the French Criticks, or their Tranlators; and his Poetical tock is a Common Place of certain Forms and Manners of Expreion. He writes better in Vere than Proe; For in that there is Rhime, in this neither Rhime nor Reaon. He talks much of the Naivete of his Thoughts, which appears ufficiently in the Dullnes of &rsquo;em; yet nothing but the Phlegmatick, Spiritles Air is his own. He rails at Mr. Oldham for want of Breeding and good Manners without a grain of either, and teals his own Wit to bepatter him with, but like an ill Chymit, he lets the Spirit flie of in the drawing over, and retains only the Phlegm. He cenures Mr. Cowley for too much Wit, and corrects him with none. The difference between Mr. Cowley and him is this; the one has too much Wit, and too fine for the Standard; the other not enough to blanch his bae Metal, or cover the Bras of his Counterfeits. To compleat himelf in the Formalities of Parnaus, he falls in love and tells the World, it is oblig&rsquo;d to his Paion for his Poetry; but if his Mitres prove no more indulgent than his Mue, his Amour is like to conclude but unluckily. For if his Love be no warmer than in his Lines, his Corinna may play with his Flame without danger of Burning. He pretends to have written only his inceret Thoughts; I don&rsquo;t know how well his Mitres may take that from the Lover, but I dare wear the World did not expect it from the Poet. He is happiet at the Picture of a Rhiming Fool, for he need only to look in his Glas, and he may Copy a Country Wit from the City Original. If this Rhiming Humour lats, there&rsquo;s a good Sugar-Jobber poil&rsquo;d for an ill Poet; yet for his comfort, Time, Improvement, and two or three Books more may raie him to Rival E&mdash; S&mdash; and ing London&rsquo;s Triumphs, to the Envy of Tom Jordan of happy Memory. You may wonder, Madam, why I shou&rsquo;d give you the trouble of this Character, after I had given you my word to trouble you with no more of this Nature. I mut confes, I am orry that o foolih an Occaion cou&rsquo;d make me forget my elf; but a Book newly publih&rsquo;d happening jut at this Juncture unluckily to fall into my Hands, I cou&rsquo;d not without Indignation ee the Scurrility and Inolence, with which Mr. Oldham, and Mr. Cowley are treated; and cou&rsquo;d not but reent a little the Wrongs done to the Memory of Men whom the ret of the World with Jutice admire; and cou&rsquo;d not help taking Notice upon o fair an Opportunity, that they are not, tho&rsquo; dead, to be o rudely plaid with, and made the May-Game of e&rsquo;ry Splenetick Boy. There are ome yet living, whoe Wit and Performances deerve a more repectful treatment, than they have met with from him. But they are able to revenge their own Quarrel, if they think he deerves the honour to be Scourg&rsquo;d by &rsquo;em. Nothing but Envy and a Vain Conceit of himelf cou&rsquo; move him to attack the Reputation of Men, whoe Vere will alwayes command Admiration, while his own raie nothing but Scorn and Indignation. If his Bookeller were but blet with half a dozen uch Authors, he wou&rsquo;d in a hort time infallibly be Stationer general to all the Grocers and Tobacconits in the Town.