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William Godwin: his Friends and Contemporaries
Ch. VII. 1759-1791
Mary Wollstonecraft to George Blood, 3 July [1785]

Contents Vol. I
Ch. I. 1756-1785
Ch. II. 1785-1788
Ch. III. 1788-1792
Ch. IV. 1793
Ch. V. 1783-1794
Ch. VI. 1794-1796
Ch. VII. 1759-1791
Ch. VII. 1791-1796
Ch. IX. 1797
Ch. X. 1797
Ch. XI. 1798
Ch. XII. 1799
Ch. XIII. 1800
Contents Vol. II
Ch. I. 1800
Ch. II. 1800
Ch. III. 1800
Ch. IV. 1801-1803
Ch. V. 1802-1803
Ch. VI. 1804-1806
Ch. VII. 1806-1811
Ch. VIII. 1811-1814
Ch. IX. 1812-1819
Ch. X. 1819-1824
Ch. XI. 1824-1832
Ch. XII. 1832-1836
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Newington Green, July 3d [1785].

“The pleasure I felt at hearing of your safe arrival [in Ireland] was a good deal damped by the account you gave of the captain’s brutality. By this time I hope all the effects of so disagreeable a voyage are gone off, except your being a little weather-beaten or so; and you and I don’t think that of much consequence, we have met with so many rough blasts that have sunk deeper than the skin. You need not have made any apology to me about the old man. When I entreated you, my dear George, to be prudent, I only meant to caution you against throwing your money away on trifling gratifications, but I did not wish to narrow your heart or desire you to avoid relieving the present necessities of your fellow-creatures, in order to ward off any future ill which might happen to self. It would give me great pleasure to hear there was any chance of your getting some employment. In the meantime give way to hope, do your duty and leave the rest to Heaven, forfeit not that sure support in the time of trouble, and though your want
of experience and judgment may betray you into many errors, let not your heart be corrupted by bad example, and then, though it may be wounded by neglect, and torn by anguish, you will not feel that most acute of all sorrows, a sense of having deserved the miseries that you undergo.

“Palmer has been respited, and of course will be pardoned. I have made many inquiries concerning the affair that alarmed us so much, and find that Palmer’s servant has sworn a child to you, and that it was on that account those men came to our house. The girl was waiting at a little ale-house near us, so that if you had stayed, you would have been involved in a pretty piece of business that your innocence could not have extricated you out of. I suppose the child is P.’s, or many fathers may dispute the honour. Let that be as it will, the recent affair of Mary Ann would have given this some colour of truth. How troublesome fools are! Mrs Campbell—who has all the constancy that attends on folly, and in whose mind, when any prejudice is fixed, it remains for ever—has long disliked you, and this confined ill-humour has at last broken out, and she has sufficiently railed at your vices, and the encouragement I have given them. . . . I have been very ill, and gone through the usual physical operations, have been bled and blistered, yet still am not well; my harassed mind will in time wear out my body. I have been so hunted down by cares, and see so many that I must encounter, that my spirits are quite depressed. I have lost all relish for life, and my almost broken heart is only cheered by the prospect of death. I may be years a-dying tho’, and so I ought to be patient, for at this time to wish myself away would be selfish. Your father and mother are well, and desire their love; the former has received a letter from Fanny, but her letters to your father are seldom satisfactory to me. I am trying to get your father a place, but my hopes are very faint. I forgot to tell you that Palmer’s servant says she followed you one day in town and raised a mob, but that you ran away. God bless you, and believe me sincerely and affectionately your friend. I feel that I love you more than I ever supposed that I did. Adieu to the village delights. I almost hate the Green, for it seems the
grave of all my comforts. Shall I never again see your honest heart dancing in your eyes?”