Women on trial

In 1700, Mary Astell trolled a beautiful celebrity who outed her abuser. Sound familiar?

The Litany of Mary Magdalen, Aubrey Vincent Beardsley, 1891. Regardless how much she prays, Mary Magdalen cant’t rid herself of judgy men and snarky women.

Women can’t be perfect enough to avoid censure over their own victimization. I would have thought, just days after the Pelicot trial and public veneration of Gisèle Pelicot’s courage, that western culture would finally accept that women aren’t culpable for the crimes done against them. That assumption would be a loser’s bet.

Recently, the actor Blake Lively filed a lawsuit alleging harassment intending to silence her claims of sexual harassment. Online commenters, men and women alike, piled on with personal attacks against Lively.¹ In solidarity, Kate Beckinsdale posted a short video online to explain how sexual harassment is weaponized against women in the entertainment industry. She supplied examples from her own experience.

Those of us who have no firsthand information could consider that the allegations by these two women are worth investigating and/or litigating; we might even acknowledge that we lack necessary information to form an opinion. Some might consider that if these allegations are true, the women standing up for themselves deserve justice and support.

Clearly, I’m out of step. Instead, online commentary is threaded through with hostility and cheap blows. “She’s lying to get attention.” “She’s a washed-up actress and can’t handle it.” “What’s wrong with her face?” “Can’t she take a joke?” “Ozempic much? “ “It didn’t happen.”

Facts are irrelevant. The actual lives of other humans are immaterial to the public’s expectations of female behavior. Predatory male behavior in the film industry is expected; women are supposed to deal with it. The public holds women responsible for maintaining public appearances, regardless. If they refuse to be complicit, they can expect public shaming.

Women who celebrate Gisèle Pelicot’s bravery understand why her decision to not be ashamed (“it’s not for us to be ashamed, it’s for them”) was heroic. To accuse a man (or 50) of rape is to invite persecution. The facts that she was drugged to unconsciousness, and that her brutalization at the hands of men and filmed by her husband occurred for years, should have protected her from accusation. Yet, she was forced during the trial to endure viewing pictures of her naked and conscious body, displayed in intimate and provocative detail. She testified that her husband took the pictures without her knowledge. Should it matter? What she did of her own will is irrelevant to the documented crimes against her. She needn’t be a saint to prove the criminality of her attackers.

The dynamic is different for men. I don’t know Luigi Mangione’s defense strategy, but I think it unlikely that the victim Brian Thompson’s physical appearance, sexuality, or personal failings will be admitted at trial.² The defense isn’t likely to search for spicy details of Thompson’s life to diminish his worth as a human being, or to prove that he was ‘asking for it’ or ‘needed killing.’ Juries usually don’t appreciate the degradation of victims, when they’re male. As Joe Jackson noted, it’s different for girls.

A woman cannot be perfect enough to not be considered complicit with her attacker, in the eyes of men and women. Yes, women.

This essay is part of a series called “Shut Out, Not Shut Up” on women through the ages who’ve written despite being dismissed because of their sex. They persisted.

The case of Mary Astell

Mary Astell wrote a book in 1700 titled Some Reflections Upon Marriage: Occasion’d by the Duke and Duchess of Mazarine’s Case, which is also consider’d. Astell was a noted philosopher in London amongst the city’s female intelligentsia. She advocated for the equality of women in education and marriage. Her books titled A Serious Proposal to the Ladies (parts 1 and 2), which argued for women’s education, had been well received. But she was a complicated woman, not easily fitting into our modern feminist ideas.

“An ill Husband may deprive a Wife of the Comfort and Quiet of her Life, give occasion of exercising her Vertue, try her Patience and Fortitude to the utmost, which is all he can do; it is herself only that can accomplish her Ruin.”

Astell had been reading Hortense Mancini’s (whom Astell calls “Duchess of Mazarine”) Memoirs, which Astell considered a caution against women exercising their will. Admittedly, the Duke had treated his wife execrably: he held her captive by force; he was a jealous tyrant who physically abused all the women in his household. Mary Astell acknowledges this:

Monsieur Mazarine is not to be justified, nor Madam his Spouse excus'd. It is no question which is most Criminal, the having no Sense, or the abuse of a liberal Portion, nor any hard matter to determine who is most to be pity'd, he whom Nature never qualify'd for great things, who therefore can't be very sensible of great Misfortunes; or she, who being capable of every thing, must therefore suffer more and be the more lamented. To be yoak'd for Life to a disagreeable Person and Temper; to have Folly and Ignorance tyrannize over Wit and Sense; to be contradicted in every thing one does or says, and bore down not by Reason but Authority; to be denied ones most innocent desires for no other cause, but the Will and Pleasure of an absolute Lord and Master, whose follies a Woman with all her Prudence cannot hide, and whose Commands she cannot but despise at the same time she obeys them, is a misery none can have a just Idea of, but those who have felt it.

Astell condemned the steps Hortense took to free herself from an abusive marriage and the decisions she made once she was on her own. Hortense escaped from her husband, leaving behind their four children. Once free, she lived on her own terms. The love affairs with women and men, the cross-dressing, the public displays of her passions: this was all too much for Astell. Hortense, who was ‘capable of every thing,’ chose instead to reject the religious standards to which Astell expected women to hew. Where is her virtue, patience, and fortitude?

Mary Astell’s life

Mary Astell was born in 1666 to a family that was financially comfortable from its coal business. Her uncle had graduated from Cambridge and had been a clergyman in the Church of England until his alcoholism resulted in expulsion. He tutored Mary informally since she had no access to a formal education.

Her father died when she was 12, leaving her without a home or money. The inheritance went to the education of her only surviving brother, leaving Mary without hope of a dowry. She and her mother moved in with her aunt. Nothing else is known of her until her twenties.

When her mother and aunt died, Mary moved to Chelsea, where she joined women’s literary circles. These contacts helped her develop and publish her writing. William Sancroft, a former Archbishop of Canterbury who refused to swear allegiance to William III, also promoted her writing and helped her financially.

Mary may have spent some time in a French convent, continuing her education. When she returned to London, she joined the group of intellectual women known as the Bluestockings, a salon that featured discussions of literature, science, and philosophy—discussions that seem to have influenced her work. She published several books on women’s education and marriage, arguing for the intellectual equality of women but also fixing blame for poor marriages on both parties.

Mary Astell published all of her books anonymously. She based her proposal for women’s education on the convent, where presumably women could be protected from the patriarchal influence of men. She apparently had no issue with the patriarchal influence of the Catholic church.

Jonathan Swift satirized her Proposal books, and Daniel Defoe critiqued her ideas as ‘impracticable.’ Which is to say that she managed to make some impact on the intellectual discourse of her day, and she was successful enough to secure friendships with powerful women upon whose support she depended.

In 1709 she withdrew from public society and headed a charity school for girls in Chelsea, which was funded by two wealthy women philanthropists. This school is considered the first school in England with an all-female board of governors. She retired when she was 60 and moved in with one of the philanthropists who had championed her school.

She died in 1731 at age 65, a few months after a mastectomy to remove a cancerous breast. She spent her last days alone in a room with her coffin, praying. She’s buried at Chelsea Church in London.

Hortense Mancini’s life story, 1646-1699

Portrait of Hortense Mancini by Sir Godfrey Kneller, c. 1671. There are no portraits or drawings of Mary Astell extant.

Few lives could have been as opposite to the austerity of Mary Astell’s life as that of Hortense Mancini.

Born in Rome, she was 13 years old and living in France when she received her first marriage proposal, from Charles II of England. The year was 1659 and Charles was in exile while Cromwell ruled with Puritanical vigor. Hortense’s uncle, Cardinal Mazarin, declined the marriage proposal since he thought little of Charles’ prospects. The Cardinal hadn’t read the cards well: within two months, Charles was reinstated on the throne. Hoping for a do-over, the Cardinal offered a handsome dowry to Charles for Hortense’s hand. He was rebuffed.

When Hortense married two years later, it was to one of the richest men in Europe. Marrying Hortense made him even richer and resulted in a title bestowed upon him: the Duc of Mazarin³. When the Cardinal died, the Duc inherited the Cardinal’s extensive estate, including the Palais Mazarin and all of the artwork it contained.

It was a marriage of opposites: Hortense was young, bright and popular and the Duc miserly, jealous, and brutal, terrorizing both his wife and the female household staff. In less than four years, Hortense bore him four children. In 1668, when her youngest child was just two years old, Hortense left her children and her marriage, escaping to Rome and the protection of family who lived there.

With the exception of Marguerite de Valois, Hortense and her sister, Marie Mancini, were the first women in France to publish their memoirs. Marie and Hortense were partly motivated to produce a body of evidence showing cause for separation from their abusive husbands. Their Memoirs were first published in French, but Hortense Mancini's were translated into English by 1676.

Hortense was fortunate to have friends in high places. The French king Louis XIV became her protector and granted her an annuity. A former suitor, the Duke of Savoy, also declared himself her protector; she moved to Savoie to live near him.⁴

After the Duke of Savoy died, Hortense’s husband froze all of her assets, including her annuity from Louis XIV. With the help of the English ambassador, Hortense replaced Charles II’s mistress, enabling her to regain financial security. Her favor with Charles declined as news spread of her amorous affairs: with Anne (the king’s illegitimate daughter), the Prince of Monaco, and perhaps the writer Aphra Behn. Still, Hortense remained close to the king until his death. The new king, James II, continued Hortense’s pension, thanks to her close friendship with the new queen, Mary of Modena. Her income survived James’ flight from the country, albeit reduced by the subsequent king, William III.

Hortense maintained a salon of literary and philosophical writers throughout her post-marriage years. She died, perhaps by her own hand, at age 53, still regarded an infamous and celebrated litterateuse and personality.

The licentious Restoration period

Hortense Mancini’s Memoirs concerned her life during the English Restoration, a period that began with Charles II’s return to the throne after the brutality and chaos of Cromwell’s Puritanical rule. Under Charles, society loosened considerably. Theatres reopened, and for the first time, women were able to act female parts onstage and publish theatrical plays. It was a time of licentiousness and libertinism at court and beyond.

While Mary Astell argued for women’s equality in education, she also held deeply religious ideas about women’s place in the patriarchy. She revered the monarchy, although its court was attended by libertines and sensualists whom the King supported—including Hortense Mancini, after her flight from her husband.

These changes must have been challenging to Astell. She too wanted to rebel against misogynistic practices that had robbed her of a dowry—and therefore of married life—and the possibility of a formal education. Her defense of marriage suggests she might have wanted to marry, if the opportunity arose, but the death of her father removed that possibility. She joined a women’s literary salon of limited influence. Had she a formal education and the connections a marriage might have brought her, could she have been taken more seriously as a philosopher and writer? Equality for women would have been a radical change, and Astell championed this. Unfortunately, her advocacy was limited in its reach.

Hortense Mancini lived the life of Astell’s dreams, in some ways. Hortense was rich, beautiful, well-connected with powerful benefactors, and was the author of a book that was the talk of the town. Hortense, however, wasn’t educated in a convent and didn’t find role models in celibate, cloistered women. She adopted the lifestyle of a libertine. Free to decide whom and how to love. Free to disregard public censure.

Astell, on the other hand, hid from the public to protect herself. She published anonymously.

These Reflections being made in the Country, where the Book that occasion'd them came but late to Hand, the Reader is desir'd to excuse their Unseasonableness as well as other Faults; and to believe that they have no other Design than to Correct some Abuses, which are not the less because Power and Prescription seem to Authorize them. If any is so needlessly curious as to enquire from what Hand they come, they may please to know, that it is not good Manners to ask, since the Title-Page does not tell them: We are all of us sufficiently Vain, and without doubt the Celebrated Name of Author, which most are so fond of, had not been avoided but for very good Reasons: To name but one; Who will care to pull upon themselves an Hornet's nest? 'Tis a very great Fault to regard rather who it is that Speaks, than what is spoken; and either to submit to Authority, when we should only yield to Reason; or if Reason press too hard, to think to ward it off by Personal Objections and Reflections. Bold Truths may pass while the Speaker is Incognito, but are seldom endur'd when he is known; few Minds being strong enough to bear what contradicts their Principles and Practices without recriminating when they can. And tho' to tell the Truth be the most Friendly Office, yet whosoever is so hardy as to venture at it, shall be counted an Enemy for so doing.

She feared criticism from Hortense Mancini and her supporters (“Who will care to pull upon themselves an Hornet’s nest?”). She anticipated that her opinions of the Duke and Duchess would be highly unpopular. Rather than gather her courage to confront them, she hid behind her writing. She expected criticism of her writing to arrive as personal attacks against her.

She predicted the same treatment for herself that she dealt to Hortense Mancini.

Astell recognized the Duke’s brutality against his wife, even as she criticized the wife for not living a saintly life.

She justifies the Injury her Husband has done her, by shewing that whatever other good Qualities she may have, Discretion, one of the Principal, is wanting. She may be Innocent, but she can never prove she is so; all that Charity can do for her when she's Censur'd is only to be silent; it can make no Apologies for suspicious Actions.

Astell would have Hortense suffer her husband’s abuses as a martyr. That it was a bad marriage was to be expected; most marriages were, according to Astell. With a novel interpretation, Astell recalls an Italian proverb that we recognize as ‘living well is the best revenge.’⁵ Undoubtedly, Hortense lived the proverb to its fullest. To interpret it as Astell did is to relinquish one’s will to religious and paternalistic ideals of feminine behavior.

Blaming the victim

Mary Astell’s view of marriage is far from radical. It accepts the inevitability of despicable male behavior, blaming the woman if she fails to be complicit with her own bondage. Finding fault with the victim comforts the critic: it preserves the status quo.

Little wonder that blaming the female victim continues to thrive. We’re told we must accept that men will be men; nothing will change that. After the #MeToo groundswell, men protested ‘not all men.’ They claimed not to know when they were crossing a line when they had acted in ways they’d seen modeled throughout their lives. Women, who naturally are more sensitive and thrive as care-takers, bear the responsibility in relationships for peace, nurture, and safety. Women who speak out against their abusers and women who flout conventions that proscribe their lives threaten peaceful existence. They must be silenced. They must be shamed.

Hortense Mancini died before the publication of Mary Astell’s critique of her life. The diarist John Evelyn recorded her death:

June 11th, 1699. Now died the famous Duchess of Mazarin. She had been the richest lady in Europe; she was niece to Cardinal Mazarin, and was married to the richest subject in Europe, as was said; she was born at Rome, educated in France, and was an extraordinary beauty and wit, but dissolute, and impatient of matrimonial restraint, so as to be abandoned by her husband, and banished: when she came to England for shelter, lived on a pension given her here, and is reported to have hastened her death by intemperate drinking strong spirits. She has written her own story and adventures, and so has her other extravagant sister, wife to the noble Colonna family.

She did well to write her own version of her life, since men’s interpretations were not only unkind but also untrue. In death, she lost control over the use of her body, which her ex-husband carted with him on his travels. Eventually he allowed her body to be buried near her uncle, the Cardinal of Mazarin.

Hortense would have made good use of Gisèle Pelicot’s words: It is not for me to be ashamed. It is for him.

Ellie’s Corner

Rainy and cold today. Not the happiest pup on days like today.

We enjoyed a lovely, snow-filled holiday. Then the temps rose and the rain came. Now it’s muddy with leaden skies. Not to mention, she’s dieting and her favorite family member left last week after a too-short visit. If she’s a bit grumpy, Ellie has her reasons.

Thanks for reading,

1. The director she named in her lawsuit, Justin Baldoni, has filed a lawsuit against The New York Times for defamation in reporting on the scandal. Online commenters are also attacking him (and supporting him). The difference is that Baldoni is being criticized for his behaviors, not for his looks or failure to fulfil male ideals.

2. Allegations that Thompson engaged in insider trading may be admitted if they’re relevant to motive.

3. Astell used the Anglicized spelling of the French Duc and Mazarin (“Duke and Duchess of Mazarine”); I’m using their French spellings here since they were French.

4. His wife was not amused. After her husband died, the widow refused Hortense entry to the funeral and cut off her income from the estate.

5. “These are great Provocations, but nothing can justify the revenging the Injuries we receive from others, upon our selves: The Italian Proverb shews a much better way; Vuoi far vendetta del tuo nemico governati bene. If you would be reveng'd of your Enemies, live well.”