MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.

LETTER III.

Market Harborough, Sept. 20.

My dear sir,

YOU left me with three opulent tradesmen; their conversation was not calculated to beguile the way, when the sable curtain concealed the beauties of nature. I listened to the tricks of trade--and shrunk away, without wishing to grow rich; even the novelty of the subjects did not render them pleasing; fond as I am of tracing the pa.s.sions in all their different forms--I was not surprised by any glimpse of the sublime, or beautiful--though one of them imagined I would be a useful partner in a good _firm_. I was very much fatigued, and have scarcely recovered myself. I do not expect to enjoy the same tranquil pleasures Henley afforded: I meet with new objects to employ my mind; but many painful emotions are complicated with the reflections they give rise to.

I do not intend to enter on the _old_ topic, yet hope to hear from you--and am yours, &c.

MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.

LETTER IV.

Friday Night.

My dear sir,

THOUGH your remarks are generally judicious--I cannot _now_ concur with you, I mean with respect to the preface[67-A], and have not altered it.

I hate the usual smooth way of exhibiting proud humility. A general rule _only_ extends to the majority--and, believe me, the few judicious parents who may peruse my book, will not feel themselves hurt--and the weak are too vain to mind what is said in a book intended for children.

I return you the Italian MS.--but do not hastily imagine that I am indolent. I would not spare any labour to do my duty--and, after the most laborious day, that single thought would solace me more than any pleasures the senses could enjoy. I find I could not translate the MS.

well. If it was not a MS, I should not be so easily intimidated; but the hand, and errors in orthography, or abbreviations, are a stumbling-block at the first setting out.--I cannot bear to do any thing I cannot do well--and I should lose time in the vain attempt.

I had, the other day, the satisfaction of again receiving a letter from my poor, dear Margaret[69-A].--With all a mother's fondness I could transcribe a part of it--She says, every day her affection to me, and dependence on heaven increase, &c.--I miss her innocent caresses--and sometimes indulge a pleasing hope, that she may be allowed to cheer my childless age--if I am to live to be old.--At any rate, I may hear of the virtues I may not contemplate--and my reason may permit me to love a female.--I now allude to ------. I have received another letter from her, and her childish complaints vex me--indeed they do--As usual, good-night.

MARY.

If parents attended to their children, I would not have written the stories; for, what are books--compared to conversations which affection inforces!--

LETTER V.

My dear sir,

REMEMBER you are to settle _my account_, as I want to know how much I am in your debt--but do not suppose that I feel any uneasiness on that score. The generality of people in trade would not be much obliged to me for a like civility, _but you were a man_ before you were a bookseller--so I am your sincere friend,

MARY.

LETTER VI.

Friday Morning.

I AM sick with vexation--and wish I could knock my foolish head against the wall, that bodily pain might make me feel less anguish from self-reproach! To say the truth, I was never more displeased with myself, and I will tell you the cause.--You may recollect that I did not mention to you the circ.u.mstance of ------ having a fortune left to him; nor did a hint of it drop from me when I conversed with my sister; because I knew he had a sufficient motive for concealing it. Last Sunday, when his character was aspersed, as I thought, unjustly, in the heat of vindication I informed ****** that he was now independent; but, at the same time, desired him not to repeat my information to B----; yet, last Tuesday, he told him all--and the boy at B----'s gave Mrs. ------ an account of it. As Mr. ------ knew he had only made a confident of me (I blush to think of it!) he guessed the channel of intelligence, and this morning came (not to reproach me, I wish he had!) but to point out the injury I have done him.--Let what will be the consequence, I will reimburse him, if I deny myself the necessaries of life--and even then my folly will sting me.--Perhaps you can scarcely conceive the misery I at this moment endure--that I, whose power of doing good is so limited, should do harm, galls my very soul. ****** may laugh at these qualms--but, supposing Mr. ------ to be unworthy, I am not the less to blame. Surely it is h.e.l.l to despise one's self!--I did not want this additional vexation--at this time I have many that hang heavily on my spirits. I shall not call on you this month--nor stir out.--My stomach has been so suddenly and violently affected, I am unable to lean over the desk.

MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.

LETTER VII.

AS I am become a reviewer, I think it right, in the way of business, to consider the subject. You have alarmed the editor of the Critical, as the advertis.e.m.e.nt prefixed to the Appendix plainly shows. The Critical appears to me to be a timid, mean production, and its success is a reflection on the taste and judgment of the public; but, as a body, who ever gave it credit for much? The voice of the people is only the voice of truth, when some man of abilities has had time to get fast hold of the GREAT NOSE of the monster. Of course, local fame is generally a clamour, and dies away. The Appendix to the Monthly afforded me more amus.e.m.e.nt, though every article almost wants energy and a _cant_ of virtue and liberality is strewed over it; always tame, and eager to pay court to established fame. The account of Necker is one unvaried tone of admiration. Surely men were born only to provide for the sustenance of the body by enfeebling the mind!

MARY.

LETTER VIII.

YOU made me very low-spirited last night, by your manner of talking.--You are my only friend--the only person I am _intimate_ with.--I never had a father, or a brother--you have been both to me, ever since I knew you--yet I have sometimes been very petulant.--I have been thinking of those instances of ill-humour and quickness, and they appeared like crimes.

Yours sincerely

MARY.

LETTER IX.

Sat.u.r.day Night.

I AM a mere animal, and instinctive emotions too often silence the suggestions of reason. Your note--I can scarcely tell why, hurt me--and produced a kind of winterly smile, which diffuses a beam of despondent tranquillity over the features. I have been very ill--Heaven knows it was more than fancy--After some sleepless, wearisome nights, towards the morning I have grown delirious.--Last Thursday, in particular, I imagined ------ was thrown into great distress by his folly; and I, unable to a.s.sist him, was in an agony. My nerves were in such a painful state of irritation--I suffered more than I can express--Society was necessary--and might have diverted me till I gained more strength; but I blushed when I recollected how often I had teazed you with childish complaints, and the reveries of a disordered imagination. I even _imagined_ that I intruded on you, because you never called on me--though you perceived that I was not well.--I have nourished a sickly kind of delicacy, which gives me many unnecessary pangs.--I acknowledge that life is but a jest--and often a frightful dream--yet catch myself every day searching for something serious--and feel real misery from the disappointment. I am a strange compound of weakness and resolution!

However, if I must suffer, I will endeavour to suffer in silence. There is certainly a great defect in my mind--my wayward heart creates its own misery--Why I am made thus I cannot tell; and, till I can form some idea of the whole of my existence, I must be content to weep and dance like a child--long for a toy, and be tired of it as soon as I get it.

We must each of us wear a fool's cap; but mine, alas! has lost its bells, and is grown so heavy, I find it intolerably troublesome.----Good-night!

I have been pursuing a number of strange thoughts since I began to write, and have actually both wept and laughed immoderately--Surely I am a fool--

MARY W.

LETTER X.

Monday Morning.

I REALLY want a German grammar, as I intend to attempt to learn that language--and I will tell you the reason why.--While I live, I am persuaded, I must exert my understanding to procure an independence, and render myself useful. To make the task easier, I ought to store my mind with knowledge--The seed time is pa.s.sing away. I see the necessity of labouring now--and of that necessity I do not complain; on the contrary, I am thankful that I have more than common incentives to pursue knowledge, and draw my pleasures from the employments that are within my reach. You perceive this is not a gloomy day--I feel at this moment particularly grateful to you--without your humane and _delicate_ a.s.sistance, how many obstacles should I not have had to encounter--too often should I have been out of patience with my fellow-creatures, whom I wish to love!--Allow me to love you, my dear sir, and call friend a being I respect.--Adieu!

MARY W.