| 200 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
In her lonely lodging near Blackfriars, Mary Wollstonccraft had been writing an original work during the scant time she could give to it from her labours of translation. It was one which has ever been more known by name than by perusal, on a subject which even now excites acrimony rather than calm discussion. The very words, “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman,” which was the title of the book, are held, without examination, to claim emancipation alike from law, from custom, and from morality. Yet it is evident that the writer, as she has shown herself in her letters, must have changed far more suddenly than is wont to be the case, if such were indeed the object she set before her in writing her treatise.
It is not among the least oddities of this singular work that it is
dedicated to M. Talleyrand Perigord, late Bishop of
Autun. Mary Wollstonecraft, always confiding and
always charitable, still believed in him. She little knew how unstable was the liberalism
for which she gave him credit, and though well aware that some of her opinions were opposed
to those which Talleyrand had put forward in his pamphlet on National
Education, she yet thought him quite sincere and working in the same direction as herself.
Mary Wollstonecraft, like so many others, turned to France as the
land from which was rising the day-star of a
| ‘THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.’ | 201 |
“The main argument” of the work “is built on this simple principle, that if woman be not prepared by education to become the companion of man, she will stop the progress of knowledge, for truth must be common to all, or it will be inefficacious with respect to its influence on general practice. And how can woman be expected to co-operate, unless she know why she ought to be virtuous?—unless freedom strengthen her reason till she comprehend her duty, and see in what manner it is connected with her real good. If children are to be educated to understand the true principle of patriotism, their mother must be a patriot; and the love of mankind, from which an orderly train of virtues springs, can only be produced by considering the moral and civil interest of mankind; but the education and situation of woman at present shuts her out from such investigations.”—P. viii.
In the carrying out of this argument the most noticeable fact is the
extraordinary plainness of speech, and this it was which caused all or nearly all the
outcry. For Mary Wollstonecraft did not, as has been
supposed, attack the institution of marriage, she did not assail orthodox religion, she did
not directly claim much which at the present day is claimed for women by those whose
arguments obtain respectful hearing. The book was really a plea for equality of education,
a protest against being deemed only the plaything of man, an assertion that the
intellectual rather than the sexual intercourse was that which should chiefly be desired in
marriage, and which made its lasting happiness. In maintaining these theses, in themselves
harmless and to
| 202 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
It may, however, be admitted that her frankness on some subjects is little less than astounding, and that matters are discussed which are rarely named even among members of the same sex, far less printed for both, while side blows are administered to much which was then unquestioned, at least in the society to which a woman’s book would gain admission. The insistance on the reception of the Sacrament in our colleges, the relics of Popery retained in them, the weekly services she had noticed the Eton boys unwillingly attend, which was “only a disgusting skeleton of the former state,” in which “all the solemnity that interested the imagination if it did not purify the heart is stripped off”—in fact, the whole system which had come before her in her residence with Mr Prior was rudely criticised. Nor were other sacred institutions dealt with more gently than our schools and universities. The fallacy by which virtue is confounded with reputation was laid bare, and she by no means shrinks from uncovering the worst sores of society.
Yet for extreme plain speaking, there was much reason and excuse. The times
were coarser than ours, the days were not so far distant when the scenes were possible and
the dangers real which Richardson’s novels
pourtray. The
| ON ELEMENTARY EDUCATION. | 203 |
It was not only the plain speaking which alarmed, and not only that a woman spoke, but every page showed that she too was affected by the thoughts which claimed rights for men, and the demand for these had issued in the French Revolution.
The faults of the book are grave over and above those of the time; it is ill-considered, hasty, and rash, but its merits are great also; there is much that is valuable for these days also—it is fresh, vigorous, and eloquent, and most remarkable as the herald of the demand not even yet wholly conceded by all, that woman should be the equal and friend, not the slave and the toy of man.
One passage only shall here be quoted. It is one in which Mary Wollstonecraft gives her views on elementary education, and in favour of mixed schools.
“Day schools should be established by Government in
which boys and girls might be educated together. The school for the younger children,
from five to nine years of age, ought to be absolutely free, and open to all classes, .
. . where boys and girls, the rich and the poor, should meet together. To prevent any
of the distinctions of vanity, they should be dressed alike, and all obliged to submit
to the same discipline, or leave the school. The school-room ought to be surrounded by
a large piece of ground, in which the children might be usefully exercised, for at this
age they should not be confined to any sedentary employment for more than an hour at a
time. But these relaxations might all be rendered a part of elementary education, for
many things improve and amuse the senses when introduced as a kind of show, to the
| 204 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“After the age of nine, girls and boys intended for domestic employments or mechanical trades ought to be removed to other trades, and receive instruction in some measure appropriated to the destination of each individual, the two sexes being still together in the morning, but in the afternoon the girls should attend a school where plain work, mantua making, millinery, &c., would be their employment.
“The young people of superior abilities or fortune might now be taught in another school the dead and living languages, the elements of science, and continue the study of history and politics, on a more extensive scale, which would not exclude polite literature.
“Girls and boys still together? I hear some reader ask. Yes. And I should not fear any other consequence than that some early attachment might take place, which, whilst it had the best effect on the moral character of young people, might not perfectly agree with the views of the parents, for it will be a long time, I fear, before the world is so enlightened that parents only anxious to render their children virtuous will let them choose companions for life themselves.”—A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, pp. 386-389.
That the publication of “The Rights of Woman” should prove startling
and even shocking to the author’s sisters as it did to many other people, is not
surprising, but the exhibition of small spite which is to be found in the following letter
is unworthy of one for whom the writer had made, and was again ready to make, such great
sacrifices.
| JOURNEY TO FRANCE. | 205 |
“. . . He” [Charles] “informs me too that Mrs Wollstonecraft is grown quite handsome; he adds likewise that being conscious she is on the wrong side of thirty she now endeavours to set off those charms she once despised to the best advantage. This entre nous, for he is delighted with her kindness and affection to him.
“So the author of ‘The Rights of Woman’ is going to France! I dare say her chief motive is to promote poor Bess’s comfort, or thine, my girl, at least I think she will thus reason. Well, in spite of reason, when Mrs W. reaches the Continent she will be but a woman! I cannot help painting her in the height of all her wishes, at the very summit of happiness, for will not ambition fill every chink of her Great Soul (for such I really think hers) that is not occupied by love? After having drawn this sketch, you can hardly suppose me so sanguine as to expect my pretty face will be thought of when matters of State are in agitation, yet I know you think such a miracle not impossible. I wish I could think it at all probable, but, alas! it has so much the appearance of castle-building that I think it will soon disappear like the ‘baseless fabric of a vision, and leave not a wrack behind.’
“And you actually have the vanity to imagine that in the National Assembly, personages like M. and F[useli] will bestow a thought on two females whom nature meant to ‘suckle fools and chronicle small beer.’”
The scheme of going to France, of which Mrs
Bishop speaks above, had been announced to her sister Everina shortly before. Everina
Wollstonecraft had spent a few
| 206 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“. . . I have been considering what you say respecting Eliza’s residence in France. For some time past Mr and Mrs Fuseli, Mr Johnson, and myself have talked of a summer excursion to Paris; it is now determined on, and we think of going in about six weeks. I shall be introduced to many people, my book” [“A Vindication of the Rights of Woman”] “has been translated, and praised in some popular prints, and Mr Fuseli of course is well known; it is then very probable that I shall hear of some situation for Eliza, and I shall be on the watch. We intend to be absent only six weeks; if then I fix on an eligible situation for her she may avoid the Welsh winter. This journey will not lead me into any extraordinary expense, or I should put it off to a more convenient season, for I am not, as you may suppose, very flush of money, and Charles is wearing out the clothes which were provided for his voyage” [to America at her expense], “still I am glad he has acquired a little practical knowledge of farming. . . .”
A candid friend who published anonymously in 1803, “A Defence of the Character and Conduct of the late Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin,” but whose “Defence” is mingled with a good deal of venom, says that “though we are not expressly informed,” there seems a probability that she had experienced a disappointment in her earlier years, and that such disappointment “tended to increase her irritability.” The writer goes on to say,
“The first sexual attachment that is plainly avowed
was towards Mr Fuseli. . . . She had reason to
esteem him as a particular friend, but on finding that her regard for him had gradually
assumed a more interesting form, mark her prudence and resolu-
| UNFOUNDED SLANDER. | 207 |
The same story, told with much greater circumstance, appears in Knowles’s “Life of Fuseli,” and is supposed to be confirmed by extracts from her letters which are given. But one of them, the last written after her return from France, most certainly does not refer to any attachment to Fuseli; and Mr Knowles is so extremely inaccurate in regard to all else that he says of her, that his testimony may be wholly set aside, finding, as it does, no confirmation whatever from her correspondence, and very little from a few ill-natured remarks of Mrs Bishop, which do not justify the malignant gossip.
Godwin himself, in his Memoir of his wife speaks also of her intimacy with
Fuseli, saying that had he been unmarried, he
would probably have been the man of her choice. He goes on to declare that the friends were
only friends, but his mention of the matter at all is only one of those strange instances
of his somewhat morbid habit of dwelling on matters of which it would have been well to
take no notice. It is probable that he had only heard of the more unfavourable version of
the story at second-hand, and, even after careful attention to her husband’s words,
the correspondence and the uninterrupted friendship with Mrs
Fuseli would seem wholly to clear Mary
Wollstonecraft’s memory from the imputation of any feeling for
| 208 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
The Fuselis and Mr Johnson having given up the tour, Mary went to France alone in December, and certainly no object whatever finds place in her letters but the one of rendering herself as good a French speaker as she was already a reader, and incidentally of finding a situation for her sister, Mrs Bishop, among the many leading Frenchmen who were then so eager for all that was English. She found a home at first in the house of Madame Filiettaz, neé Bregantz, the daughter of Madame Bregantz, in whose school at Putney Mrs Bishop and Everina Wollstonecraft had both been teachers. The following extract gives her first impressions of Paris at a critical time, though none then knew how critical.
“To-morrow I expect to see Aline” [Mme. Filiettaz]; “during her absence the servants endeavoured to render the house—a most excellent one—comfortable to me, but as I wish to acquire the language as fast as I can, I was sorry to be obliged to remain so much alone. I apply so closely to the language, and labour so continually to understand what I hear that I never go to bed without a headache, and my spirits are fatigued with endeavouring to form a just opinion of public affairs. The day after to-morrow I expect to see the King at the bar, and the consequences that will follow I am almost afraid to anticipate.
“I have seen very little of Paris—the streets are so
dirty, and I wait till I can make myself understood before I call upon
Madame Laurent, &c. Miss Williams has behaved very civilly to me, and I shall visit
her frequently, because I rather like her, and I meet
French company at her house. Her manners are affected, yet the simple goodness
of her heart continually breaks through the
| TRIAL OF LOUIS XVI. | 209 |
Two days afterwards she addressed a letter to Mr Johnson. It has already been printed in the “Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin: London, 1798.” These volumes were edited by Godwin, but are so very unlikely to be known to many readers at the present day, that the letter deserves quotation here.
“I should immediately on the receipt of your letter, my
dear friend, have thanked you for your punctuality; for it highly gratified me,
had I not wished to wait, till I could tell you that this day was not stained
with blood. [Wednesday, Dec. 26th, was the day on which the King appeared to
plead, by his advocate Desèze.] Indeed,
the prudent precautions taken by the National Convention to prevent a tumult,
made me suppose that the dogs of faction would not dare to bark, much less to
bite, however true to their scent; and I was not mistaken; for the citizens,
who were all called out, are returning home with composed countenances,
| 210 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
The news which reached England from France was of the most scanty kind,
and little was heard of individuals after the troubles in Paris really began. Mrs Bishop’s letters are full of complaints that she
so seldom has news
| INDIGNATION AGAINST FRANCE. | 211 |
“. . . I never can get to see a paper; and if anyone of our Bears call, the whole family leave the room when I say a word about Politics, or else order them to talk of something else; and, of course, the conversation turns on Murphy or Irish Potatoes, or Tommy Paine, whose effigy they burnt at Pembroke the other day. Nay, they talk of immortalizing Miss Wollstonecraft in the like manner; but all end in Damning all Politics: what good will they do men? and what rights have men that three meals a-day will not supply? So argues a Welshman. I heard a clergyman say that he was sure there was no more harm in shooting a Frenchman, than in lifting his piece at a Bird. And a gentleman—I cannot find out who—sent me this receipt:—
“‘An effectual cure for the bite of a Mad Frenchman: Mix a grain of common sense in the milk of human nature with two grains of honour, and half-a-dram of loyalty; let the patient take this night and morning, and he will be in his senses all day.’”
“. . . I should like to know what you felt on first
hearing Louis’s death. I own I was
shocked, but not deluged in tears. In short, I could bear to hear it read, and
hoped they had some motive for such an act of cruelty that our newspapers did
not explain. But to hear him cried up as the best of
men, and that no man’s sufferings or fortitude
equalled the King of France’s, is to me quite novel. The depth of his
understanding and the
| 212 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“God bless you.—Yours affectionately,
In the following year some refugee French priests were lodging at Pembroke, and Mrs Bishop went from Saturday to Monday in each week to that town, spending nearly all her time with two of them, an aged bishop and his brother, for the sake of learning French more thoroughly. The following extract describes their reception in Pembrokeshire:—
“. . . I believe I told you they fled from wretched
France. They landed near Haverford West, and were used worse, they declare,
than if they had been in Paris. The P[rimat], though he had fainted among the
savages, had a stone flung at his head, and [was] guarded all night—though he
expected every moment to be his last; for, in spite of the letter to
Government, they were treated as Republicans. This good creature was compelled
to walk three miles, though nearly fainting at every step he took, surrounded
by men, women, and children, gazing, not at his pale face, but at a
handkerchief that supplied the place of a wig that
| GILBERT IMLAY. | 213 |
“He was for a year and a half concealed by friends from the Republicans, and was so narrowly watched, that neither of the brothers saw daylight during that period. They at last made their escape, merely with the hope of saving the family who had sheltered them. At fifty, it is dreadful to be snatched from the lap of abundance, for M. Graux had his carriage and every elegance of life, and to feel all the horrors of dependence in a strange country.”
In the meantime, Mary
Wollstonecraft’s position in France had become extremely difficult, if
not precarious. It was impossible that she should receive remittances from England, nor
could she return when once war was declared. It was at this juncture, at some time in the
spring or summer of 1793, that she met Mr Gilbert
Imlay, an American then living in Paris. He had been a captain in the
American army during the late war, and was afterwards a commissioner for laying out land in
the back settlements. He appears to have been a speculator in many ways, without real
fortune, but with some command of money, and to have been an attractive person. He
certainly was an able man, for a work published by him, called “A Topographical Description of the Western Territory of
North America,” is a model of what a monograph on a new country should be.
It is clear, full, and condensed, yet not so much as to hinder the reader even now from
finding it an interesting work, and in its own day it went through many editions. The
kindness he showed Mary Wollstonecraft disposed her to look on him
favourably, and she soon gave him a very sincere affection. Opposed as were her views to
| 214 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
Yet it is probable that what Mary
Wollstonecraft held, as a theory, in common with others who did not put
their theories into act, would have been held by her most blamelessly, had it not been for
the untoward circumstances which seemed to claim that she should act upon them. A legal
marriage with Mr Imlay was difficult, if not
impossible.
| RELATION TO IMLAY. | 215 |
Mary Wollstonecraft was living with Imlay as his wife in August 1793, in Paris, but he was
soon afterwards called to Havre on business, and was absent for some months. During this
period letters passed between them, of which her own were afterwards returned to her, and
were published after her death. “They are,” as Godwin said of them, “the offspring of a glowing
imagination, and a heart penetrated with the passion it essays to describe.”
But they are the letters of a tender and devoted wife, who feels no doubt of her position.
Towards the close of 1793, Imlay had established himself in some
commercial business at Havre, where Mary joined him, and there, in the
spring of 1794, she gave birth to a
| 216 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
Some rumours of all these circumstances had reached the sisters in England, but only such as to render them extremely perplexed as to the true state of the case.
[After saying he was doing extremely well, and making an offer of a home or assistance to his sisters, he continues] “I heard from Mary, six months ago, by a gentleman who knew her at Paris, and since that have been informed she is married to Captain Imlay of this country.” . . .
. . . “Can this be a dream, my heart’s best friend? I would I could fancy these things matters of fact. I mean the poor fellow’s wonderful good luck in so short a time. I own I want faith” [her want of faith was justified; since Charles’s account of himself proved pure brag], “nay, doubt my senses, so I have sent you word for word, to spell and put together. . . . If Mary is actually married to Mr Imlay, it is not impossible but she might settle there” [in America] “too. Yet Mary cannot be Married!! It is natural to conclude her protector is her husband. Nay, on reading Charles’s letter, I for an instant believed it true. I would, my Everina, we were out of suspense, for all at present is uncertainty and the most cruel suspense; still Johnson does not repeat things at random, and that the very same tale should have crossed the Atlantic makes me almost believe that the once M. is now Mrs Imlay, and a mother. Are we ever to see this mother and her babe?”
In September 1794, business called Mr
Imlay to London, and Mary returned to
Paris. A separation of some months
| GROWING INDIFFERENCE. | 217 |
“My dear Madam.—Mr Johnson gave me your acceptable favor inclosing one to Mrs Imlay, saying it was for her, which leaving me ignorant of being included, I could not return an immediate answer; since which time I have been out of town. I hope this circumstance will appear to you a sufficient apology for my silence, and that you will be pleased to consider it a good reason for preventing a forfeit of that claim to humanity or at least respect and esteem for a person so affectionately loved by my dear Mary as yourself, which you say had already been impressed on your mind.
“As to your sister’s visiting England, I do not think she will previous to a peace, and perhaps not immediately after such an event. However, be that as it may, we shall both of us continue to cherish feelings of tenderness for you, and a recollection of your unpleasant situation, and we shall also endeavour to alleviate its distress by all the means in our power. The present state of our fortune is rather” [word omitted]. “However you must know your sister too well, and I am sure you judge of that knowledge too favourably to suppose that whenever she has it in her power she will not apply some specific aid to promote your happiness. I shall always be most happy to receive your letters, but as I shall most likely leave England the beginning of next week, I will thank you to let me hear from you as soon as convenient, and tell me ingenuously in what way I can serve you in any manner or respect. I am in but indifferent spirits occasioned by my long absence from Mrs Imlay, and our little girl, while I am deprived of a chance of hearing from them.—Adieu, yours truly,
| 218 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“My dear Girl.—It is
extremely uncomfortable to write to you thus without expecting, or even daring
to ask for an answer, lest I should involve others in my difficulties, and make
them suffer for protecting me. The French are at present so full of suspicion
that had a letter of James’s
imprudently sent to me been opened, I would not have answered for the
consequence. I have just sent off great part of my MS., which Miss Williams would fain have had me burn,
following her example; and to tell you the truth, my life would not have been
worth much had it been found. It is impossible for you to have any idea of the
impression the sad scenes I have been witness to have left on my mind. The
climate of France is uncommonly fine, the country pleasant, and there is a
degree of ease and even simplicity in the manners of the common people which
attaches me to them. Still death and misery, in every shape of terror, haunt
this devoted country. I certainly am glad that I came to France, because I
never could have had a just opinion of the most extraordinary event that has
ever been recorded, and I have met with some uncommon instances of friendship,
which my heart will ever gratefully store up, and call to mind when the
remembrance is keen of the anguish it has endured for its fellow-creatures at
large—for the unfortunate beings cut off around me, and the still more
unfortunate survivors. If any of the many letters I have written have come to
your hands or Eliza’s, you know
that I am safe, through the protection of an American, a most worthy man, who joins to uncommon tenderness
of heart and quickness of feeling, a soundness of understanding and
reasonableness of temper rarely to be met with. Having also been brought up in
the interior parts of America, he is a most natural, unaffected creature. I am
with him now at Havre, and shall remain there, till circumstances point out
what is necessary for me to do. Before I left Paris, I attempted to find the
Laurents, whom I had several times previously sought
for, but to no purpose. And I am apt to think that
| LETTER FROM PARIS. | 219 |
“Where is poor Eliza? From a letter I received many many months after it was written, I suppose she is in Ireland. Will you write to tell her that I most affectionately remember her, and still have in my mind some places for her future comfort. Are you well? But why do I ask? you cannot reply to me. This thought throws a damp on my spirits whilst I write, and makes my letter rather an act of duty than a present satisfaction. God bless you! I will write by every opportunity, and am yours sincerely and affectionately,
“As you must, my dear girl, have received several letters from me, especially one I sent to London by Mr Imlay, I avail myself of this opportunity just to tell you that I am well and my child, and to request you to write by this occasion. I do indeed long to hear from you and Eliza. I have at last got some tidings of Charles, and as they must have reached you, I need not tell you what sincere satisfaction they afforded me. I have also heard from James, he too talks of success, but in a querulous strain. What are you doing? Where is Eliza? You have perhaps answered these questions [in answer to the letters I gave in charge to Mr I., but fearing that some fatality might have prevented their reaching you, let me repeat that I have written to you and to Eliza at least half a score of times, pointing out different ways for you to write to me, still have received no answers. I have again and again given you an account of my present situation, and introduced Mr Imlay to you as a brother you would love and respect. I hope the time is not very distant when we shall all meet. Do be very particular in your account of yourself, and if you have not time to procure me a letter from Eliza, tell me all about her. Tell me too what is become of George, &c., &c. I only write to ask questions and to assure you that I am most affectionately yours,
| 220 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
[P.S.]
“Should peace take place this winter, what say you to a voyage in the spring, if not to see your old acquaintance, to see Paris, which I think you did not do justice to. I want you to see my little girl, who is more like a boy. She is ready to fly away with spirits, and has eloquent health in her cheeks and eyes. She does not promise to be a beauty, but appears wonderfully intelligent, and though I am sure she has her father’s quick temper and feelings, her good humour runs away with all the credit of my good nursing.
“I managed myself so well that my lying-in scarcely deserved the name. I only rested, through persuasion, in bed one day, and was out a-walking on the eighth. She is now only four months old. She caught the small-pox at Havre, where they treat the dreadful disorder very improperly. I however determined to follow the suggestions of my own reason, and saved her much pain, probably her life, for she was very full, by putting her twice a-day into a warm bath. Once more adieu. The letter not being sent for as soon as I expected, gave me an opportunity to add this prattling postscript. You will see the last vol. I have written, it is the commencement of a considerable work. Tell Mrs Skeys, who could not fulfil her promise respecting her portrait, that it was written during my pregnancy.”
Imlay was now involved in a multitude of speculations which rendered him restless and dissatisfied with the competency which it seems that at one time he had secured. The plan that he and Mary Wollstonecraft had proposed to themselves was to settle on a farm either in France or America, but he now embarked in trade connected with Norway and Sweden, which was, he considered, to bring him a large fortune. His interest in Mary and his child sensibly cooled, and though he allowed them to join him in England, her letters to him show that she did so with a heavy heart, and gloomy forebodings of coming sorrow.
| MR HAMILTON ROWAN. | 221 |
Mr Rowan, to whom the following letter is addressed on her departure from France, was just about to settle in America, where Charles Wollstonecraft already was established in Philadelphia.
Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Esq., Secretary of the Society of United Irishmen, was prosecuted January 29, 1794, for having published a seditious libel. After a trial at Bar, in which he was defended by Curran, he was found guilty, was sentenced to pay a fine of £500, to be imprisoned for two years, and at the end of this time to give security for his good behaviour for seven years, himself in £2000 and two sureties in £1000 each. Within four months he escaped from gaol, and found his way to Havre, then called Havre Marat, in lieu of its old name Havre de Grace.
“My dear Sir,—I wrote a few
hasty lines to you just now, before we entered the vessel, and after hurrying
myself out of breath—for as I do not like exaggerated phrases, I would not say
to death—the awkward pilot ran us aground, so here we are in an empty house;
and with the heart and imagination on the wing, you may suppose that the slow
march of time is felt very painfully. I seem to be counting the ticking of a
clock, and there is no clock here. For these few days I have been busy
preparing, now all is done, and we cannot go. If you were to pop in I should be
glad, for in spite of my impatience to see a friend who deserves all
tenderness, I still have a corner in my heart, where I will allow you a place,
if you have no objection. It would give me sincere pleasure to meet you at any
future period, and to be introduced to your wife. Pray take care of yourself,
and when you arrive let me hear from you. Direct to me at Mr Johnson’s, St Paul’s
Churchyard, London, and wherever I may be the letter will not fail to
| 222 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“When you hear, my dear Everina, that I have been in London near a fortnight without
writing to you or Eliza, you will
perhaps accuse me of insensibility, for I shall not lay any stress on my not
being well in consequence of a violent cold I caught during the time I was
nursing; but tell you that I put off writing because I was at a loss what I
could do to render Eliza’s situation more
comfortable. I instantly gave Jones ten pounds to send,
for a very obvious reason, in his own name to my father, and I could send her a trifle of this kind immediately,
were a temporary assistance necessary. I believe I told you that Mr Imlay had not a fortune when I first knew
him; since that he has entered into very extensive plans, which promise a
degree of success, though not equal to the first prospect. When a sufficient
sum is actually realized, I know he will give me for you and
Eliza five or six hundred pounds, or more if he can.
In what way could this be
| RETURN TO ENGLAND. | 223 |
“Read the following letter: ‘I arrived in town
near a fortnight ago, my dear girl, but having previously weaned my child on
account of a cough, I found myself extremely weak. I have intended writing to
you every day, but have been prevented by the impossibility of determining in
what way I can be of essential service to you. When Mr Imlay and I united our fate together, he was without
fortune; since that, there is a prospect of his obtaining a considerable one;
but though the hope appears to be well founded, I cannot yet act as if it were
a certainty. He is the most generous creature in the world, and if he succeed,
as I have the greatest reason to think he will, he will, in proportion to his
acquirement of property, enable me to be useful to you and Everina. I wish you and her would adopt any
plan in which five or six hundred pounds would be of use. As to myself, I
cannot yet say where I shall live for a continuance. It would give me the
sincerest pleasure to be situated near you. I know you will think me
| 224 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“This I have just received. My Everina, what I felt, and shall for ever
feel! It is childish to talk of. After lingering above a fortnight in such
cruel suspense. Good God! what a letter! How have I merited such pointed
cruelty? When did I wish to live with her? At what time wish for a moment
to interrupt their domestic happiness? Was ever a present offered in so
humiliating a style? Ought the poorest domestic to be thus insulted? Are
your eyes opened at last, Everina? What do you now say
to our goodly prospects? I have such a mist before my lovely eyes that I
cannot now see what I write. Instantly get me a situation in Ireland, I
care not where. Dear Everina, delay not to tell me you
can procure bread, with what hogs I eat it, I care not, nay, if exactly the
Uptonian breed. Remember I am serious. If you disappoint me, my misery will
be complete. I have enclosed this famous letter to the author of the
‘Rights of
Women’ without any reflection. She shall never hear from
poor Bess again.
Remember, I am as fixed as my misery, and nothing can change my present
plan. This letter has so strongly agitated me that I know not what I say;
but this I feel, and know, that if you value my existence you will comply
with my requisition, for I am positive I will never tor-
| ESTRANGEMENT OF THE SISTERS | 225 |
“My dear Everina,—Though I
know it is impossible for you to have answered either of my last letters, yet I
feel vexed at not hearing from you. I am so eager for you to say you have
procured a situation for me in Dublin. I now have only ten days to spend at
Pembroke, yet am quite uncertain what ‘poor
Bess’s’ future fate is to be. I mean to stay with my
father a week, or little more, so
write and tell me the price of the new stage from Waterford to the capital.
Also inform me from what inn it sets off, not forgetting the hour. There is no
vessel now that can sail for Ireland, so I must send my box to London, and from
thence to our mother country. What say you to Mrs
Imlay’s friendly epistle? I told you I returned it with
only these words: ‘Mrs B. has
never received any money from America.’ Nine days have now
elapsed, and here I am waiting for your letter, my dear
Everina. Can you blame me for returning Mrs
I.’s letter? I am sick of thinking on the subject, and
weary of anticipating ought from to-morrow. If it is impossible to procure me
bread immediately, perhaps George would
permit me to remain with him until you succeed. Recollect I value not what
situation you get me—agreeable or disagreeable will be equally acceptable to
the sister of the author of the ‘Rights of Women.’ I now have not
the smallest wish to quit Wales, nor are my prospects in the least cheered by
the idea of seeing you so soon. For I am sick to death of arguing and
accounting for the unaccountable events of this wretched life, and as
thoroughly tired of the lingering existence I have dragged on year after year,
spring after spring. To receive aught now from your Mary
appears to me to be the height of meanness. Would to God we were both in
America with Charles. Do you think it
would be possible for us to go from
| 226 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Good night.”
The truth, however, was wholly other than Mrs
Bishop supposed. When Mary and
Imlay again met in England, his affairs proved
seriously embarrassed, and his affection had sensibly cooled. There was not as yet, indeed,
any word of a permanent separation; but as they had, in fact, been actually together during
but a short time of their
| REMARKABLE DOCUMENT. | 227 |
It proved necessary that some one should go to Sweden and Norway on Imlay’s part, on some business, not clearly stated, but connected with his trade; while his own presence was urgently required elsewhere. The voyage, it was thought, would prove of advantage to Mary’s health; and, in the June following their meeting, she made the voyage, and undertook the business.
The document already mentioned remains, in which Imlay spoke of her as his wife, and gave her power to act for him. It is as follows:—
“Know all men, by these presents, that I, Gilbert Imlay, citizen of the United States of America, at present residing in London, do nominate, constitute, and appoint Mary Imlay, my best friend and wife, to take the sole management and direction of all my affairs and business which I had placed in the hands of Mr Elias Bachman, negotiant, Gottenburg, or in those of Messrs Myburg & Co., Copenhagen, desiring that she will manage and direct such concerns in such manner as she may deem most wise and prudent. For which this letter shall be a sufficient power, enabling her to receive all the money or sums of money that may be recovered from Peter Ellyson or his connections, whenever the issue of the tryal now carrying on, instigated by Mr Elias Bachman, as my agent, for the violation of the trust which I had reposed in his integrity.
“Considering the aggravated distresses, the
accumulated losses and damages sustained in consequence of the said
Ellisson’s disobedience of my injunctions, I
desire the said Mary Imlay will clearly
ascertain the amount of such damages, taking first the
| 228 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Respecting the cargo of goods in the hands of Messrs Myburg and Co., Mrs Imlay has only to consult the most experienced persons engaged in the disposition of such articles, and then placing them at their disposal, act as she may deem right and proper. . . .
“Thus, confiding in the talent, zeal, and earnestness of my dearly beloved friend and companion, I submit the management of these affairs entirely and implicitly to her discretion.
“Remaining most sincerely and affectionately hers truly,
“Witness, J. Samoriel.”
Her letters to Imlay during this
period were afterwards published, when divested of all that was personal and private, under
the title, “Letters from
Norway,” and are still thoroughly worth reading, as a picturesque and graceful
description of a summer tour. The more personal portions may be found among her posthumous
works, and carry on the sad tale of her sorrows. She returned to England in the late
autumn, to meet letters from Imlay, which made it plain they were to
part, but offering to settle an annuity on her and her child. This, for herself, she
rejected with scorn. “From you,” she writes, “I will not
receive any more; I am not yet sufficiently humbled to depend on your
beneficence.” They met once again, when Imlay attempted to
gloss over the past, so that it seemed possible, for the child’s sake, that they
might still remain together. But though he had assured her that he had no other attachment,
she discovered in a short time that he was carrying on an unworthy intrigue under her own
| ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. | 229 |
The following letter to Mr Rowan was written just after the final parting with Imlay.
“My dear Sir,—Though I have
not heard from you, I should have written to you, convinced of your friendship,
could I have told you anything of myself that could have afforded you pleasure.
I am unhappy. I have been treated with unkindness, and even
| 230 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
Still, for the sake of the child, bearing Imlay’s name, she began again to enter into London literary society, in which she and Godwin were almost equally conspicuous.
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