2 Vols. Complete. 2 Vols. Mary went to live temporarily with the Bloods at Walham Green, and
assisted Mrs. Blood, who took in needle-work; Everina became for a short
time housekeeper to her brother Edward, a solicitor; and Eliza married a
Mr. Bishop. Blood, who
were desirous of going over to Ireland. On the day in question, the 26th, Louis XVI. She looked upon her connexion with Imlay, however, "as of the
most inviolable nature." She was playful, full of confidence,
kindness, and sympathy. He certainly fascinated her, as he fascinated other women, both
before and after his attachment to Mary. They were to meet again, but never on the old footing. He provided her, however, with a furnished
house, and she did not at once abandon hope of a reconciliation: but when
she realised that hope was useless, in her despair she resolved to take
her life. Imlay." He provided her with a lodging, but entirely
neglected her for some woman with whom he was living. To the members of his
family he was of a kind, even affectionate, disposition. But I
wish you to eat your meat first, and let her come up with the pudding. It was afterwards bequeathed to the nation by his
widow, Lady Shelley. Her sufferings had been great, but her death was a peaceful one. Misery--O Misery,
This world is all too wide for thee!" Yours, truly,
MARY. But, good-night!--God bless you! MARY. ----, and some others, are invited to dine with us to-day; and to-morrow I
am to spend the day with ----. I have since seen him,
and he tells me that he has settled the business. Take care of yourself--and write soon to your own girl (you may add dear,
if you please) who sincerely loves you, and will try to convince you of
it, by becoming happier. MARY. Take care of
yourself, and remember with tenderness your affectionate
MARY. I am going to rest very happy, and you have made me so.--This is the
kindest good-night I can utter. Yours sincerely,
MARY. but, my love, to the old story--am I to see you this week, or this
month?--I do not know what you are about--for, as you did not tell me, I
would not ask Mr. ----, who is generally pretty communicative. I long to see Mrs. ----; not to hear from you, so do not give yourself
airs, but to get a letter from Mr. ----. Yours affectionately,
MARY. It was a cordial to me--and I
wanted one. Mr. ---- tells me that he has written again and again.--Love him a
little!--It would be a kind of separation, if you did not love those I
love. Yours affectionately. MARY. Yours truly,
MARY. The face of things, public and private, vexes me. Should I attempt to write any more, I could not change the strain. My head
aches, and my heart is heavy. MARY. and ----, and ----, nay,
all the world, may know it for aught I care!--Yet I wish to avoid ----'s
coarse jokes. Ah! But drop not
an angry word--I cannot now bear it. ---- did not write to you, I suppose, because he talked of going to Havre. I am afraid that I have vexed you, my own [Imlay]. Yours truly
MARY IMLAY. I cannot but respect your
motives and conduct. well, what signifies what I brooded
over--Let us now be friends! I am going to dine with Mrs. ----. Yours truly
MARY. I need not desire you to give the colonel a good bottle of wine. I cannot boast of being quite recovered, yet I am (I must use my Yorkshire
phrase; for, when my heart is warm, pop come the expressions of childhood
into my head) so _lightsome_, that I think it will not _go badly with
me_.--And nothing shall be wanting on my part, I assure you; for I am
urged on, not only by an enlivened affection for you, but by a new-born
tenderness that plays cheerly round my dilating heart. Adieu, my love! Yours sincerely
MARY. Yours truly
MARY. My mind, unfettered, has flown to you long since, or rather has
never left you. Yours affectionately,
MARY. I have called on Mrs. ----. MARY. Here is a chatting, desultory epistle! Yours affectionately,
MARY. I gave him a letter for my sister, and requested him
to see her. I have got a habit of restlessness at
night, which arises, I believe, from activity of mind; for, when I am
alone, that is, not near one to whom I can open my heart, I sink into
reveries and trains of thinking, which agitate and fatigue me. I need not tell you,
I suppose, that I am now writing with somebody in the room with me, and
---- is waiting to carry this to Mr. ----'s. I will then kiss the girl
for you, and bid you adieu. I want you to bring
---- with you. Yours most affectionately,
MARY. Adieu, my love! Take care of yourself, if you wish to be the protector of
your child, and the comfort of her mother. Your own
MARY. I just now
stumbled on one of the kind letters, which you wrote during your last
absence. You are then a dear affectionate creature, and I will not plague
you. The girl I have got has more vivacity, which is
better for the child. I long to hear from you.--Bring a copy of ---- and ---- with you. Yours most truly and affectionately
MARY. Yours most truly and tenderly,
MARY. P.S. Her eyes follow me every where, and by affection I have the most
despotic power over her. Fold us both to your heart; for I am truly and affectionately
Yours,
MARY. But we who
are governed by other motives, ought not to be led on by him. Yours truly,
MARY. Since my arrival here, I have found the German lady, of whom you have
heard me speak. MARY. I have gotten into a melancholy mood, you perceive. MARY. MARY. Well, now for business--
* * * * *
My animal is well; I have not yet taught her to eat, but nature is doing
the business. MARY. MARY. I cannot write.--I inclose a fragment of a letter, written soon after your
departure, and another which tenderness made me keep back when it was
written.--You will see then the sentiments of a calmer, though not a more
determined, moment.--Do not insult me by saying, that "our being together
is paramount to every other consideration!" Were it, you would not be
running after a bubble, at the expence of my peace of mind. MARY. She has a child of the same age, and they
may be brought up together, as I wish her to be brought up. I can live much cheaper there,
which is now become an object. MARY. This has been such a period of barbarity and misery, I ought not to
complain of having my share. You say that you have not given up all thoughts of returning
here--and I know that it will be necessary--nay, is. Why is it so necessary that I should return?--brought up here, my girl
would be freer. Yours truly
MARY. Yours truly
MARY. I have weaned my Fanny, and she is now eating away at the white bread. Yours sincerely,
MARY. Yours truly,
MARY. you will ask, what is the result of all this reasoning? Yours most truly
MARY. For my little darling is calling papa, and adding her parrot
word--Come, Come! Yours sincerely and affectionately
MARY. It would
have been a comfort to me to have received another letter from you--Should
one arrive, it will be sent after me. The child is perfectly well. Yours most truly
MARY. Yours truly
MARY. We had
a troublesome sail--and now I must hurry on board again, for the wind has
changed. Yours sincerely
MARY. The child is well; I did not leave her on board. The child is well. I am not well,
and yet you see I cannot die. Yours sincerely
MARY. ---- will go with me, if I find it necessary to go to ----. MARY. Yours truly
MARY. Still, when we meet again, I will not torment you, I promise you. Do not tell me, that you are happier without us--Will you not come to us
in Switzerland? My being at ---- was but a chance, and you might have
hazarded it; and would a year ago. I shall not however complain--There are misfortunes so great, as to
silence the usual expressions of sorrow--Believe me, there is such a thing
as a broken heart! MARY. All is not right somewhere!--When you first knew me, I was not thus lost. MARY. I have suffered, God
knows, since I left you. Ah! I cannot bear to think of leaving her alone in the world, or that
she should only be protected by your sense of duty. Next to preserving
her, my most earnest wish is not to disturb your peace. When we meet again, you shall be convinced that I have more resolution
than you give me credit for. The
child, ---- informs me, is well, I long to be with her. Yours most affectionately
MARY IMLAY
I have been subscribing other letters--so I mechanically did the same to
yours. But I promise you, mine shall not be intruded on you. I feel a conviction, that I can
provide for her, and it shall be my object--if we are indeed to part to
meet no more. Yours sincerely
MARY. I have already told you, that I have recovered my health. As for
peace, we will not talk of it. I received three this morning, the last dated the 7th of
this month. Be free--I will not torment,
when I cannot please. I shall not remain at ----, living expensively. I shall not force myself on you any more. MARY. I once thought I had, but it
was all a delusion. I must compose my tortured soul, before I write on indifferent
subjects. Had captain ---- remained
a few days longer, I would have returned with him to England. Do you do the
same--and quickly. I cannot write, my mind is so distressed. MARY. MARY. I shall not come up in the vessel all the way, because I have no place to
go to. Captain ---- will inform you where I am. I will then decide, since you boggle
about a mere form. Direct your letter to be left at the post-office, and
tell me whether you will come to me here, or where you will meet me. If you prefer meeting me on the road, tell me where. Yours affectionately,
MARY. Should they be removed, ---- can give their
direction. Let the maid have all my clothes, without distinction. Soon, very soon shall I be at peace. When you
receive this, my burning head will be cold. MARY. In this respect, I
am only accountable to myself. Did I care for what is termed reputation,
it is by other circumstances that I should be dishonoured. I never wanted but your heart--That gone,
you have nothing more to give. MARY. I agree with
you, that
* * * * *
But let the obliquity now fall on me.--I fear neither poverty nor infamy. MARY. MARY. Even your seeing me, has been to oblige other people, and not to sooth my
distracted mind. MARY. I cannot write. MARY. The hour
of recollection will come--and you will not be satisfied to act the part
of a boy, till you fall into that of a dotard. You do, you must, respect me--and you will be sorry to forfeit my
esteem. MARY. You urge, "that your conduct was unequivocal." With these assurances, is it extraordinary that I should believe what I
wished? That there is "sophistry" on one side or other, is certain; but now it
matters not on which. Mine has been of a very different nature, or it would not have
stood the brunt of your sarcasms. If there be any part of me that will
survive the sense of my misfortunes, it is the purity of my affections. In August he
went to Paris, where he was followed by Mary. She was born, May 14, 1794, and was named Fanny.--W. G.
[7] She means, "the latter more than the former."--W. They were sent
from Paris, and bear the address of London.--W.