The Wrongs of Woman; or, Maria
{"WorkMasterId":6711,"WpPageId":284402,"ParentWpPageId":193813,"Slug":"the-wrongs-of-woman","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/mary-wollstonecraft/the-wrongs-of-woman/","RelativeUrl":"theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/mary-wollstonecraft/the-wrongs-of-woman/","HasFullText":true,"RawHtmlLength":346257,"CleanHtmlLength":290147,"Kicker":"Philosophy Work","Title":"The Wrongs of Woman; or, Maria","Deck":"The unfinished posthumous novel analyzes marriage, law, confinement, sexual double standards, property, trauma, and women\u0027s blocked agency.","BackLink":{"Text":"Back to Mary Wollstonecraft","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/mary-wollstonecraft/"},"AuthorCard":{"Label":"Author","Title":"Mary Wollstonecraft","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/mary-wollstonecraft/","MediaHref":"","ImageSrc":"https://chrisdeasy.com/wp-content/uploads/mary-wollstonecraft-01-wollstonecraft-c-1797.jpg","ImageAlt":"Mary Wollstonecraft by John Opie, c. 1797, National Portrait Gallery","FilterTerra":"Western Europe","ClickText":"Mary Wollstonecraft","ClickHref":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/philosophers/mary-wollstonecraft/","Copies":["1759 CE – 1797 CE","Spitalfields, London","English Enlightenment feminist philosopher, republican political writer, educator, novelist, translator, historian, and advocate of women\u0027s rational education, civic dignity, and moral independence."]},"ContextCards":[{"Label":"Period","Key":"Period:3","Title":"Early Modern History","DateText":"1500 CE – 1799 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/"},{"Label":"Era","Key":"Era:9","Title":"Enlightenment and Proto-Industrial","DateText":"1700 CE – 1799 CE","Url":"https://chrisdeasy.com/theos/humanities/philosophy/eras-of-thought/philosophers-of-early-modern-history/philosophers-of-the-enlightenment-and-proto-industrial/"},{"Label":"Composition","Title":"1798 CE","Url":"","DateText":""}],"DateNote":"Displayed as 1798 for posthumous publication in Godwin-edited materials; notes preserve unfinished status.","GeoCards":[{"Label":"Region","Key":"Region:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita","Key":"TerraAvita:1"},{"Label":"Terra Avita Region","Key":"TerraAvitaRegion:2"},{"Label":"Modern Country","Key":"Country:GBR:1"}],"OriginalTitle":"The Wrongs of Woman; or, Maria","Language":"English","DisciplineCards":[{"Label":"Primary Discipline","Key":"Discipline:political-philosophy"},{"Label":"Secondary 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confinement, sexual double standards, property, trauma, and women\u0027s blocked agency."],"Influence":{"InfluencedBy":"Richard Price, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, John Locke, Catharine Macaulay, Joseph Johnson\u0027s dissenting circle, Enlightenment moral philosophy, Anglican and rational Christian reform, and French Revolutionary politics.","InfluenceOn":""},"Significance":["Accepted as a direct Wollstonecraft posthumous work from Project Gutenberg, Wikisource, Commons title evidence, and scholarship rows.","The work remains relevant to feminist philosophy, education, moral psychology, political equality, citizenship, literary form, rights discourse, and the relation of reason, passion, virtue, and social institutions."],"EvidenceNote":["Accepted as a direct Wollstonecraft posthumous work from Project Gutenberg, Wikisource, Commons title evidence, and scholarship rows."],"MainSections":[{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Versions","BodyHtml":"\u003cdiv class=\"dz-philo__full-version-grid\"\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-version-card\"\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-provider\"\u003eProject Gutenberg\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ch3 class=\"dz-philo__full-version-title\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #134\u003c/h3\u003e\n \u003cp class=\"dz-philo__full-version-meta\"\u003eHtmlText · Imported\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003ca class=\"dz-philo__full-version-link\" href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/134\"\u003eOpen full version\u003c/a\u003e\n \u003c/article\u003e\n \u003c/div\u003e"},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Core Thesis","Paragraphs":["The unfinished posthumous novel analyzes marriage, law, confinement, sexual double standards, property, trauma, and women\u0027s blocked agency."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Classification","Fields":[{"Label":"Alternate Titles","Value":"Maria; The Wrongs of Woman; Maria, or The Wrongs of Woman"},{"Label":"Key Concepts","Value":"marriage law; confinement; property; trauma; sexual double standard; women\u0027s agency; fiction; rights"},{"Label":"Methodology","Value":"Source-backed Wollstonecraft work cluster; public texts are evidence only."},{"Label":"Structure","Value":"Work page with title forms, integer year, notes, links, and no full text."}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Arguments","Paragraphs":["The unfinished posthumous novel analyzes marriage, law, confinement, sexual double standards, property, trauma, and women\u0027s blocked agency."]},{"Kind":"FieldSection","Title":"Influence","Fields":[{"Label":"Influenced By","Value":"Richard Price, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, John Locke, Catharine Macaulay, Joseph Johnson\u0027s dissenting circle, Enlightenment moral philosophy, Anglican and rational Christian reform, and French Revolutionary politics."},{"Label":"Influence On","Value":"Feminist philosophy, women\u0027s rights theory, republican political thought, education theory, liberal feminism, literary feminism, Mary Shelley, nineteenth-century feminism, and modern capability and equality debates."}]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Significance","Paragraphs":["Accepted as a direct Wollstonecraft posthumous work from Project Gutenberg, Wikisource, Commons title evidence, and scholarship rows.","The work remains relevant to feminist philosophy, education, moral psychology, political equality, citizenship, literary form, rights discourse, and the relation of reason, passion, virtue, and social institutions."]},{"Kind":"TextSection","Title":"Evidence Note","Paragraphs":["Accepted as a direct Wollstonecraft posthumous work from Project Gutenberg, Wikisource, Commons title evidence, and scholarship rows."]},{"Kind":"RawSection","Title":"Full Text","BodyHtml":"\u003cp class=\"dz-philo__section-copy dz-philo__full-text-source\"\u003ePublic-domain full text from \u003ca href=\"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/134\"\u003eProject Gutenberg eBook #134\u003c/a\u003e.\u003c/p\u003e\n \u003carticle class=\"dz-philo__full-text-body\"\u003e\r\n\u003ch1\u003eMARIA\u003cbr/\u003e\r\nor\u003cbr/\u003e\r\nThe Wrongs of Woman\u003c/h1\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2 class=\"no-break\"\u003eby MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch3\u003e(1759-1797)\u003cbr/\u003e\r\n\u003cbr/\u003e\r\nAfter the edition of 1798\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003chr /\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003eCONTENTS\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctable summary=\"\" style=\"\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2H_4_0001\"\u003eMARIA\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2H_PREF\"\u003ePREFACE\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2H_4_0003\"\u003eAUTHOR’S PREFACE\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0001\"\u003eCHAPTER 1\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0002\"\u003eCHAPTER 2\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0003\"\u003eCHAPTER 3\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0004\"\u003eCHAPTER 4\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0005\"\u003eCHAPTER 5\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0006\"\u003eCHAPTER 6\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0007\"\u003eCHAPTER 7\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0008\"\u003eCHAPTER 8\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0009\"\u003eCHAPTER 9\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0010\"\u003eCHAPTER 10\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0011\"\u003eCHAPTER 11\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0012\"\u003eCHAPTER 12\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0013\"\u003eCHAPTER 13\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0014\"\u003eCHAPTER 14\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2H_APPE\"\u003eAPPENDIX\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0015\"\u003eCHAPTER 15\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0016\"\u003eCHAPTER 16\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2HCH0017\"\u003eCHAPTER 17\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ctr\u003e\r\n\u003ctd\u003e \u003ca href=\"#link2H_CONC\"\u003eCONCLUSION\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/td\u003e\r\n\u003c/tr\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/table\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003chr /\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2H_4_0001\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nMARIA\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch3\u003eor\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003eThe Wrongs of Woman\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2H_PREF\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nPREFACE\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe public are here presented with the last literary attempt of an author,\r\nwhose fame has been uncommonly extensive, and whose talents have probably been\r\nmost admired, by the persons by whom talents are estimated with the greatest\r\naccuracy and discrimination. There are few, to whom her writings could in any\r\ncase have given pleasure, that would have wished that this fragment should have\r\nbeen suppressed, because it is a fragment. There is a sentiment, very dear to\r\nminds of taste and imagination, that finds a melancholy delight in\r\ncontemplating these unfinished productions of genius, these sketches of what,\r\nif they had been filled up in a manner adequate to the writer’s conception,\r\nwould perhaps have given a new impulse to the manners of a world.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe purpose and structure of the following work, had long formed a favourite\r\nsubject of meditation with its author, and she judged them capable of producing\r\nan important effect. The composition had been in progress for a period of\r\ntwelve months. She was anxious to do justice to her conception, and recommenced\r\nand revised the manuscript several different times. So much of it as is here\r\ngiven to the public, she was far from considering as finished, and, in a letter\r\nto a friend directly written on this subject, she says, “I am perfectly aware\r\nthat some of the incidents ought to be transposed, and heightened by more\r\nharmonious shading; and I wished in some degree to avail myself of criticism,\r\nbefore I began to adjust my events into a story, the outline of which I had\r\nsketched in my mind.”\u003ca href=\"#fn1\" name=\"fnref1\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[1]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e The only\r\nfriends to whom the author communicated her manuscript, were Mr. Dyson, the\r\ntranslator of the Sorcerer, and the present editor; and it was impossible for\r\nthe most inexperienced author to display a stronger desire of profiting by the\r\ncensures and sentiments that might be suggested.\u003ca href=\"#fn2\"\r\nname=\"fnref2\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[2]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn1\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref1\"\u003e[1]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nA more copious extract of this letter is subjoined to the author’s preface.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn2\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref2\"\u003e[2]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe part communicated consisted of the first fourteen chapters.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn revising these sheets for the press, it was necessary for the editor, in\r\nsome places, to connect the more finished parts with the pages of an older\r\ncopy, and a line or two in addition sometimes appeared requisite for that\r\npurpose. Wherever such a liberty has been taken, the additional phrases will be\r\nfound inclosed in brackets; it being the editor’s most earnest desire to\r\nintrude nothing of himself into the work, but to give to the public the words,\r\nas well as ideas, of the real author.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWhat follows in the ensuing pages, is not a preface regularly drawn out by the\r\nauthor, but merely hints for a preface, which, though never filled up in the\r\nmanner the writer intended, appeared to be worth preserving.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"right\"\u003e\r\nW. GODWIN.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2H_4_0003\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nAUTHOR’S PREFACE\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe wrongs of woman, like the wrongs of the oppressed part of mankind, may be\r\ndeemed necessary by their oppressors: but surely there are a few, who will dare\r\nto advance before the improvement of the age, and grant that my sketches are\r\nnot the abortion of a distempered fancy, or the strong delineations of a\r\nwounded heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn writing this novel, I have rather endeavoured to pourtray passions than\r\nmanners.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn many instances I could have made the incidents more dramatic, would I have\r\nsacrificed my main object, the desire of exhibiting the misery and oppression,\r\npeculiar to women, that arise out of the partial laws and customs of society.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn the invention of the story, this view restrained my fancy; and the history\r\nought rather to be considered, as of woman, than of an individual.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe sentiments I have embodied.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn many works of this species, the hero is allowed to be mortal, and to become\r\nwise and virtuous as well as happy, by a train of events and circumstances. The\r\nheroines, on the contrary, are to be born immaculate, and to act like goddesses\r\nof wisdom, just come forth highly finished Minervas from the head of Jove.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n[The following is an extract of a letter from the author to a friend, to whom\r\nshe communicated her manuscript.]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nFor my part, I cannot suppose any situation more distressing, than for a woman\r\nof sensibility, with an improving mind, to be bound to such a man as I have\r\ndescribed for life; obliged to renounce all the humanizing affections, and to\r\navoid cultivating her taste, lest her perception of grace and refinement of\r\nsentiment, should sharpen to agony the pangs of disappointment. Love, in which\r\nthe imagination mingles its bewitching colouring, must be fostered by delicacy.\r\nI should despise, or rather call her an ordinary woman, who could endure such a\r\nhusband as I have sketched.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThese appear to me (matrimonial despotism of heart and conduct) to be the\r\npeculiar Wrongs of Woman, because they degrade the mind. What are termed great\r\nmisfortunes, may more forcibly impress the mind of common readers; they have\r\nmore of what may justly be termed stage-effect; but it is the delineation of\r\nfiner sensations, which, in my opinion, constitutes the merit of our best\r\nnovels. This is what I have in view; and to show the wrongs of different\r\nclasses of women, equally oppressive, though, from the difference of education,\r\nnecessarily various.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0001\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 1\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAbodes of horror have frequently been described, and castles, filled with\r\nspectres and chimeras, conjured up by the magic spell of genius to harrow the\r\nsoul, and absorb the wondering mind. But, formed of such stuff as dreams are\r\nmade of, what were they to the mansion of despair, in one corner of which Maria\r\nsat, endeavouring to recall her scattered thoughts!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSurprise, astonishment, that bordered on distraction, seemed to have suspended\r\nher faculties, till, waking by degrees to a keen sense of anguish, a whirlwind\r\nof rage and indignation roused her torpid pulse. One recollection with\r\nfrightful velocity following another, threatened to fire her brain, and make\r\nher a fit companion for the terrific inhabitants, whose groans and shrieks were\r\nno unsubstantial sounds of whistling winds, or startled birds, modulated by a\r\nromantic fancy, which amuse while they affright; but such tones of misery as\r\ncarry a dreadful certainty directly to the heart. What effect must they then\r\nhave produced on one, true to the touch of sympathy, and tortured by maternal\r\napprehension!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHer infant’s image was continually floating on Maria’s sight, and the first\r\nsmile of intelligence remembered, as none but a mother, an unhappy mother, can\r\nconceive. She heard her half speaking half cooing, and felt the little\r\ntwinkling fingers on her burning bosom—a bosom bursting with the nutriment for\r\nwhich this cherished child might now be pining in vain. From a stranger she\r\ncould indeed receive the maternal aliment, Maria was grieved at the thought—but\r\nwho would watch her with a mother’s tenderness, a mother’s self-denial?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe retreating shadows of former sorrows rushed back in a gloomy train, and\r\nseemed to be pictured on the walls of her prison, magnified by the state of\r\nmind in which they were viewed—Still she mourned for her child, lamented she\r\nwas a daughter, and anticipated the aggravated ills of life that her sex\r\nrendered almost inevitable, even while dreading she was no more. To think that\r\nshe was blotted out of existence was agony, when the imagination had been long\r\nemployed to expand her faculties; yet to suppose her turned adrift on an\r\nunknown sea, was scarcely less afflicting.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAfter being two days the prey of impetuous, varying emotions, Maria began to\r\nreflect more calmly on her present situation, for she had actually been\r\nrendered incapable of sober reflection, by the discovery of the act of atrocity\r\nof which she was the victim. She could not have imagined, that, in all the\r\nfermentation of civilized depravity, a similar plot could have entered a human\r\nmind. She had been stunned by an unexpected blow; yet life, however joyless,\r\nwas not to be indolently resigned, or misery endured without exertion, and\r\nproudly termed patience. She had hitherto meditated only to point the dart of\r\nanguish, and suppressed the heart heavings of indignant nature merely by the\r\nforce of contempt. Now she endeavoured to brace her mind to fortitude, and to\r\nask herself what was to be her employment in her dreary cell? Was it not to\r\neffect her escape, to fly to the succour of her child, and to baffle the\r\nselfish schemes of her tyrant—her husband?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThese thoughts roused her sleeping spirit, and the self-possession returned,\r\nthat seemed to have abandoned her in the infernal solitude into which she had\r\nbeen precipitated. The first emotions of overwhelming impatience began to\r\nsubside, and resentment gave place to tenderness, and more tranquil meditation;\r\nthough anger once more stopt the calm current of reflection when she attempted\r\nto move her manacled arms. But this was an outrage that could only excite\r\nmomentary feelings of scorn, which evaporated in a faint smile; for Maria was\r\nfar from thinking a personal insult the most difficult to endure with\r\nmagnanimous indifference.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe approached the small grated window of her chamber, and for a considerable\r\ntime only regarded the blue expanse; though it commanded a view of a desolate\r\ngarden, and of part of a huge pile of buildings, that, after having been\r\nsuffered, for half a century, to fall to decay, had undergone some clumsy\r\nrepairs, merely to render it habitable. The ivy had been torn off the turrets,\r\nand the stones not wanted to patch up the breaches of time, and exclude the\r\nwarring elements, left in heaps in the disordered court. Maria contemplated\r\nthis scene she knew not how long; or rather gazed on the walls, and pondered on\r\nher situation. To the master of this most horrid of prisons, she had, soon\r\nafter her entrance, raved of injustice, in accents that would have justified\r\nhis treatment, had not a malignant smile, when she appealed to his judgment,\r\nwith a dreadful conviction stifled her remonstrating complaints. By force, or\r\nopenly, what could be done? But surely some expedient might occur to an active\r\nmind, without any other employment, and possessed of sufficient resolution to\r\nput the risk of life into the balance with the chance of freedom.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA woman entered in the midst of these reflections, with a firm, deliberate\r\nstep, strongly marked features, and large black eyes, which she fixed steadily\r\non Maria’s, as if she designed to intimidate her, saying at the same time “You\r\nhad better sit down and eat your dinner, than look at the clouds.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I have no appetite,” replied Maria, who had previously determined to speak\r\nmildly; “why then should I eat?”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But, in spite of that, you must and shall eat something. I have had many\r\nladies under my care, who have resolved to starve themselves; but, soon or\r\nlate, they gave up their intent, as they recovered their senses.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Do you really think me mad?” asked Maria, meeting the searching glance of her\r\neye.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Not just now. But what does that prove?—Only that you must be the more\r\ncarefully watched, for appearing at times so reasonable. You have not touched a\r\nmorsel since you entered the house.”—Maria sighed intelligibly.—“Could any\r\nthing but madness produce such a disgust for food?”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Yes, grief; you would not ask the question if you knew what it was.” The\r\nattendant shook her head; and a ghastly smile of desperate fortitude served as\r\na forcible reply, and made Maria pause, before she added—“Yet I will take some\r\nrefreshment: I mean not to die.—No; I will preserve my senses; and convince\r\neven you, sooner than you are aware of, that my intellects have never been\r\ndisturbed, though the exertion of them may have been suspended by some infernal\r\ndrug.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDoubt gathered still thicker on the brow of her guard, as she attempted to\r\nconvict her of mistake.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Have patience!” exclaimed Maria, with a solemnity that inspired awe. “My God!\r\nhow have I been schooled into the practice!” A suffocation of voice betrayed\r\nthe agonizing emotions she was labouring to keep down; and conquering a qualm\r\nof disgust, she calmly endeavoured to eat enough to prove her docility,\r\nperpetually turning to the suspicious female, whose observation she courted,\r\nwhile she was making the bed and adjusting the room.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Come to me often,” said Maria, with a tone of persuasion, in consequence of a\r\nvague plan that she had hastily adopted, when, after surveying this woman’s\r\nform and features, she felt convinced that she had an understanding above the\r\ncommon standard, “and believe me mad, till you are obliged to acknowledge the\r\ncontrary.” The woman was no fool, that is, she was superior to her class; nor\r\nhad misery quite petrified the life’s-blood of humanity, to which reflections\r\non our own misfortunes only give a more orderly course. The manner, rather than\r\nthe expostulations, of Maria made a slight suspicion dart into her mind with\r\ncorresponding sympathy, which various other avocations, and the habit of\r\nbanishing compunction, prevented her, for the present, from examining more\r\nminutely.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nBut when she was told that no person, excepting the physician appointed by her\r\nfamily, was to be permitted to see the lady at the end of the gallery, she\r\nopened her keen eyes still wider, and uttered a—“hem!” before she\r\nenquired—“Why?” She was briefly told, in reply, that the malady was hereditary,\r\nand the fits not occurring but at very long and irregular intervals, she must\r\nbe carefully watched; for the length of these lucid periods only rendered her\r\nmore mischievous, when any vexation or caprice brought on the paroxysm of\r\nphrensy.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHad her master trusted her, it is probable that neither pity nor curiosity\r\nwould have made her swerve from the straight line of her interest; for she had\r\nsuffered too much in her intercourse with mankind, not to determine to look for\r\nsupport, rather to humouring their passions, than courting their approbation by\r\nthe integrity of her conduct. A deadly blight had met her at the very threshold\r\nof existence; and the wretchedness of her mother seemed a heavy weight fastened\r\non her innocent neck, to drag her down to perdition. She could not heroically\r\ndetermine to succour an unfortunate; but, offended at the bare supposition that\r\nshe could be deceived with the same ease as a common servant, she no longer\r\ncurbed her curiosity; and, though she never seriously fathomed her own\r\nintentions, she would sit, every moment she could steal from observation,\r\nlistening to the tale, which Maria was eager to relate with all the persuasive\r\neloquence of grief.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIt is so cheering to see a human face, even if little of the divinity of virtue\r\nbeam in it, that Maria anxiously expected the return of the attendant, as of a\r\ngleam of light to break the gloom of idleness. Indulged sorrow, she perceived,\r\nmust blunt or sharpen the faculties to the two opposite extremes; producing\r\nstupidity, the moping melancholy of indolence; or the restless activity of a\r\ndisturbed imagination. She sunk into one state, after being fatigued by the\r\nother: till the want of occupation became even more painful than the actual\r\npressure or apprehension of sorrow; and the confinement that froze her into a\r\nnook of existence, with an unvaried prospect before her, the most insupportable\r\nof evils. The lamp of life seemed to be spending itself to chase the vapours of\r\na dungeon which no art could dissipate.—And to what purpose did she rally all\r\nher energy?—Was not the world a vast prison, and women born slaves?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThough she failed immediately to rouse a lively sense of injustice in the mind\r\nof her guard, because it had been sophisticated into misanthropy, she touched\r\nher heart. Jemima (she had only a claim to a Christian name, which had not\r\nprocured her any Christian privileges) could patiently hear of Maria’s\r\nconfinement on false pretences; she had felt the crushing hand of power,\r\nhardened by the exercise of injustice, and ceased to wonder at the perversions\r\nof the understanding, which systematize oppression; but, when told that her\r\nchild, only four months old, had been torn from her, even while she was\r\ndischarging the tenderest maternal office, the woman awoke in a bosom long\r\nestranged from feminine emotions, and Jemima determined to alleviate all in her\r\npower, without hazarding the loss of her place, the sufferings of a wretched\r\nmother, apparently injured, and certainly unhappy. A sense of right seems to\r\nresult from the simplest act of reason, and to preside over the faculties of\r\nthe mind, like the master-sense of feeling, to rectify the rest; but (for the\r\ncomparison may be carried still farther) how often is the exquisite sensibility\r\nof both weakened or destroyed by the vulgar occupations, and ignoble pleasures\r\nof life?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe preserving her situation was, indeed, an important object to Jemima, who\r\nhad been hunted from hole to hole, as if she had been a beast of prey, or\r\ninfected with a moral plague. The wages she received, the greater part of which\r\nshe hoarded, as her only chance for independence, were much more considerable\r\nthan she could reckon on obtaining any where else, were it possible that she,\r\nan outcast from society, could be permitted to earn a subsistence in a\r\nreputable family. Hearing Maria perpetually complain of listlessness, and the\r\nnot being able to beguile grief by resuming her customary pursuits, she was\r\neasily prevailed on, by compassion, and that involuntary respect for abilities,\r\nwhich those who possess them can never eradicate, to bring her some books and\r\nimplements for writing. Maria’s conversation had amused and interested her, and\r\nthe natural consequence was a desire, scarcely observed by herself, of\r\nobtaining the esteem of a person she admired. The remembrance of better days\r\nwas rendered more lively; and the sentiments then acquired appearing less\r\nromantic than they had for a long period, a spark of hope roused her mind to\r\nnew activity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHow grateful was her attention to Maria! Oppressed by a dead weight of\r\nexistence, or preyed on by the gnawing worm of discontent, with what eagerness\r\ndid she endeavour to shorten the long days, which left no traces behind! She\r\nseemed to be sailing on the vast ocean of life, without seeing any land-mark to\r\nindicate the progress of time; to find employment was then to find variety, the\r\nanimating principle of nature.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0002\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 2\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nEarnestly as Maria endeavoured to soothe, by reading, the anguish of her\r\nwounded mind, her thoughts would often wander from the subject she was led to\r\ndiscuss, and tears of maternal tenderness obscured the reasoning page. She\r\ndescanted on “the ills which flesh is heir to,” with bitterness, when the\r\nrecollection of her babe was revived by a tale of fictitious woe, that bore any\r\nresemblance to her own; and her imagination was continually employed, to\r\nconjure up and embody the various phantoms of misery, which folly and vice had\r\nlet loose on the world. The loss of her babe was the tender string; against\r\nother cruel remembrances she laboured to steel her bosom; and even a ray of\r\nhope, in the midst of her gloomy reveries, would sometimes gleam on the dark\r\nhorizon of futurity, while persuading herself that she ought to cease to hope,\r\nsince happiness was no where to be found.—But of her child, debilitated by the\r\ngrief with which its mother had been assailed before it saw the light, she\r\ncould not think without an impatient struggle.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I, alone, by my active tenderness, could have saved,” she would exclaim, “from\r\nan early blight, this sweet blossom; and, cherishing it, I should have had\r\nsomething still to love.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn proportion as other expectations were torn from her, this tender one had\r\nbeen fondly clung to, and knit into her heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe books she had obtained, were soon devoured, by one who had no other\r\nresource to escape from sorrow, and the feverish dreams of ideal wretchedness\r\nor felicity, which equally weaken the intoxicated sensibility. Writing was then\r\nthe only alternative, and she wrote some rhapsodies descriptive of the state of\r\nher mind; but the events of her past life pressing on her, she resolved\r\ncircumstantially to relate them, with the sentiments that experience, and more\r\nmatured reason, would naturally suggest. They might perhaps instruct her\r\ndaughter, and shield her from the misery, the tyranny, her mother knew not how\r\nto avoid.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThis thought gave life to her diction, her soul flowed into it, and she soon\r\nfound the task of recollecting almost obliterated impressions very interesting.\r\nShe lived again in the revived emotions of youth, and forgot her present in the\r\nretrospect of sorrows that had assumed an unalterable character.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThough this employment lightened the weight of time, yet, never losing sight of\r\nher main object, Maria did not allow any opportunity to slip of winning on the\r\naffections of Jemima; for she discovered in her a strength of mind, that\r\nexcited her esteem, clouded as it was by the misanthropy of despair.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAn insulated being, from the misfortune of her birth, she despised and preyed\r\non the society by which she had been oppressed, and loved not her\r\nfellow-creatures, because she had never been beloved. No mother had ever\r\nfondled her, no father or brother had protected her from outrage; and the man\r\nwho had plunged her into infamy, and deserted her when she stood in greatest\r\nneed of support, deigned not to smooth with kindness the road to ruin. Thus\r\ndegraded, was she let loose on the world; and virtue, never nurtured by\r\naffection, assumed the stern aspect of selfish independence.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThis general view of her life, Maria gathered from her exclamations and dry\r\nremarks. Jemima indeed displayed a strange mixture of interest and suspicion;\r\nfor she would listen to her with earnestness, and then suddenly interrupt the\r\nconversation, as if afraid of resigning, by giving way to her sympathy, her\r\ndear-bought knowledge of the world.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria alluded to the possibility of an escape, and mentioned a compensation, or\r\nreward; but the style in which she was repulsed made her cautious, and\r\ndetermine not to renew the subject, till she knew more of the character she had\r\nto work on. Jemima’s countenance, and dark hints, seemed to say, “You are an\r\nextraordinary woman; but let me consider, this may only be one of your lucid\r\nintervals.” Nay, the very energy of Maria’s character, made her suspect that\r\nthe extraordinary animation she perceived might be the effect of madness.\r\n“Should her husband then substantiate his charge, and get possession of her\r\nestate, from whence would come the promised annuity, or more desired\r\nprotection? Besides, might not a woman, anxious to escape, conceal some of the\r\ncircumstances which made against her? Was truth to be expected from one who had\r\nbeen entrapped, kidnapped, in the most fraudulent manner?”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn this train Jemima continued to argue, the moment after compassion and\r\nrespect seemed to make her swerve; and she still resolved not to be wrought on\r\nto do more than soften the rigour of confinement, till she could advance on\r\nsurer ground.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria was not permitted to walk in the garden; but sometimes, from her window,\r\nshe turned her eyes from the gloomy walls, in which she pined life away, on the\r\npoor wretches who strayed along the walks, and contemplated the most terrific\r\nof ruins—that of a human soul. What is the view of the fallen column, the\r\nmouldering arch, of the most exquisite workmanship, when compared with this\r\nliving memento of the fragility, the instability, of reason, and the wild\r\nluxuriancy of noxious passions? Enthusiasm turned adrift, like some rich stream\r\noverflowing its banks, rushes forward with destructive velocity, inspiring a\r\nsublime concentration of thought. Thus thought Maria—These are the ravages over\r\nwhich humanity must ever mournfully ponder, with a degree of anguish not\r\nexcited by crumbling marble, or cankering brass, unfaithful to the trust of\r\nmonumental fame. It is not over the decaying productions of the mind, embodied\r\nwith the happiest art, we grieve most bitterly. The view of what has been done\r\nby man, produces a melancholy, yet aggrandizing, sense of what remains to be\r\nachieved by human intellect; but a mental convulsion, which, like the\r\ndevastation of an earthquake, throws all the elements of thought and\r\nimagination into confusion, makes contemplation giddy, and we fearfully ask on\r\nwhat ground we ourselves stand.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMelancholy and imbecility marked the features of the wretches allowed to\r\nbreathe at large; for the frantic, those who in a strong imagination had lost a\r\nsense of woe, were closely confined. The playful tricks and mischievous devices\r\nof their disturbed fancy, that suddenly broke out, could not be guarded\r\nagainst, when they were permitted to enjoy any portion of freedom; for, so\r\nactive was their imagination, that every new object which accidentally struck\r\ntheir senses, awoke to phrenzy their restless passions; as Maria learned from\r\nthe burden of their incessant ravings.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSometimes, with a strict injunction of silence, Jemima would allow Maria, at\r\nthe close of evening, to stray along the narrow avenues that separated the\r\ndungeon-like apartments, leaning on her arm. What a change of scene! Maria\r\nwished to pass the threshold of her prison, yet, when by chance she met the eye\r\nof rage glaring on her, yet unfaithful to its office, she shrunk back with more\r\nhorror and affright, than if she had stumbled over a mangled corpse. Her busy\r\nfancy pictured the misery of a fond heart, watching over a friend thus\r\nestranged, absent, though present—over a poor wretch lost to reason and the\r\nsocial joys of existence; and losing all consciousness of misery in its excess.\r\nWhat a task, to watch the light of reason quivering in the eye, or with\r\nagonizing expectation to catch the beam of recollection; tantalized by hope,\r\nonly to feel despair more keenly, at finding a much loved face or voice,\r\nsuddenly remembered, or pathetically implored, only to be immediately\r\nforgotten, or viewed with indifference or abhorrence!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe heart-rending sigh of melancholy sunk into her soul; and when she retired\r\nto rest, the petrified figures she had encountered, the only human forms she\r\nwas doomed to observe, haunting her dreams with tales of mysterious wrongs,\r\nmade her wish to sleep to dream no more.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDay after day rolled away, and tedious as the present moment appeared, they\r\npassed in such an unvaried tenor, Maria was surprised to find that she had\r\nalready been six weeks buried alive, and yet had such faint hopes of effecting\r\nher enlargement. She was, earnestly as she had sought for employment, now angry\r\nwith herself for having been amused by writing her narrative; and grieved to\r\nthink that she had for an instant thought of any thing, but contriving to\r\nescape.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima had evidently pleasure in her society: still, though she often left her\r\nwith a glow of kindness, she returned with the same chilling air; and, when her\r\nheart appeared for a moment to open, some suggestion of reason forcibly closed\r\nit, before she could give utterance to the confidence Maria’s conversation\r\ninspired.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDiscouraged by these changes, Maria relapsed into despondency, when she was\r\ncheered by the alacrity with which Jemima brought her a fresh parcel of books;\r\nassuring her, that she had taken some pains to obtain them from one of the\r\nkeepers, who attended a gentleman confined in the opposite corner of the\r\ngallery.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria took up the books with emotion. “They come,” said she, “perhaps, from a\r\nwretch condemned, like me, to reason on the nature of madness, by having\r\nwrecked minds continually under his eye; and almost to wish himself—as I\r\ndo—mad, to escape from the contemplation of it.” Her heart throbbed with\r\nsympathetic alarm; and she turned over the leaves with awe, as if they had\r\nbecome sacred from passing through the hands of an unfortunate being, oppressed\r\nby a similar fate.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDryden’s Fables, Milton’s Paradise Lost, with several modern productions,\r\ncomposed the collection. It was a mine of treasure. Some marginal notes, in\r\nDryden’s Fables, caught her attention: they were written with force and taste;\r\nand, in one of the modern pamphlets, there was a fragment left, containing\r\nvarious observations on the present state of society and government, with a\r\ncomparative view of the politics of Europe and America. These remarks were\r\nwritten with a degree of generous warmth, when alluding to the enslaved state\r\nof the labouring majority, perfectly in unison with Maria’s mode of thinking.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe read them over and over again; and fancy, treacherous fancy, began to\r\nsketch a character, congenial with her own, from these shadowy outlines.—“Was\r\nhe mad?” She reperused the marginal notes, and they seemed the production of an\r\nanimated, but not of a disturbed imagination. Confined to this speculation,\r\nevery time she re-read them, some fresh refinement of sentiment, or acuteness\r\nof thought impressed her, which she was astonished at herself for not having\r\nbefore observed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWhat a creative power has an affectionate heart! There are beings who cannot\r\nlive without loving, as poets love; and who feel the electric spark of genius,\r\nwherever it awakens sentiment or grace. Maria had often thought, when\r\ndisciplining her wayward heart, “that to charm, was to be virtuous.” “They who\r\nmake me wish to appear the most amiable and good in their eyes, must possess in\r\na degree,” she would exclaim, “the graces and virtues they call into action.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe took up a book on the powers of the human mind; but, her attention strayed\r\nfrom cold arguments on the nature of what she felt, while she was feeling, and\r\nshe snapt the chain of the theory to read Dryden’s Guiscard and Sigismunda.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria, in the course of the ensuing day, returned some of the books, with the\r\nhope of getting others—and more marginal notes. Thus shut out from human\r\nintercourse, and compelled to view nothing but the prison of vexed spirits, to\r\nmeet a wretch in the same situation, was more surely to find a friend, than to\r\nimagine a countryman one, in a strange land, where the human voice conveys no\r\ninformation to the eager ear.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Did you ever see the unfortunate being to whom these books belong?” asked\r\nMaria, when Jemima brought her slipper. “Yes. He sometimes walks out, between\r\nfive and six, before the family is stirring, in the morning, with two keepers;\r\nbut even then his hands are confined.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“What! is he so unruly?” enquired Maria, with an accent of disappointment.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“No, not that I perceive,” replied Jemima; “but he has an untamed look, a\r\nvehemence of eye, that excites apprehension. Were his hands free, he looks as\r\nif he could soon manage both his guards: yet he appears tranquil.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“If he be so strong, he must be young,” observed Maria.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Three or four and thirty, I suppose; but there is no judging of a person in\r\nhis situation.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Are you sure that he is mad?” interrupted Maria with eagerness. Jemima quitted\r\nthe room, without replying.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“No, no, he certainly is not!” exclaimed Maria, answering herself; “the man who\r\ncould write those observations was not disordered in his intellects.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe sat musing, gazing at the moon, and watching its motion as it seemed to\r\nglide under the clouds. Then, preparing for bed, she thought, “Of what use\r\ncould I be to him, or he to me, if it be true that he is unjustly\r\nconfined?—Could he aid me to escape, who is himself more closely watched?—Still\r\nI should like to see him.” She went to bed, dreamed of her child, yet woke\r\nexactly at half after five o’clock, and starting up, only wrapped a gown around\r\nher, and ran to the window. The morning was chill, it was the latter end of\r\nSeptember; yet she did not retire to warm herself and think in bed, till the\r\nsound of the servants, moving about the house, convinced her that the unknown\r\nwould not walk in the garden that morning. She was ashamed at feeling\r\ndisappointed; and began to reflect, as an excuse to herself, on the little\r\nobjects which attract attention when there is nothing to divert the mind; and\r\nhow difficult it was for women to avoid growing romantic, who have no active\r\nduties or pursuits.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAt breakfast, Jemima enquired whether she understood French? for, unless she\r\ndid, the stranger’s stock of books was exhausted. Maria replied in the\r\naffirmative; but forbore to ask any more questions respecting the person to\r\nwhom they belonged. And Jemima gave her a new subject for contemplation, by\r\ndescribing the person of a lovely maniac, just brought into an adjoining\r\nchamber. She was singing the pathetic ballad of old Rob\u003ca href=\"#fn3\"\r\nname=\"fnref3\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[3]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e with the most heart-melting falls and pauses.\r\nJemima had half-opened the door, when she distinguished her voice, and Maria\r\nstood close to it, scarcely daring to respire, lest a modulation should escape\r\nher, so exquisitely sweet, so passionately wild. She began with sympathy to\r\npourtray to herself another victim, when the lovely warbler flew, as it were,\r\nfrom the spray, and a torrent of unconnected exclamations and questions burst\r\nfrom her, interrupted by fits of laughter, so horrid, that Maria shut the door,\r\nand, turning her eyes up to heaven, exclaimed—“Gracious God!”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn3\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref3\"\u003e[3]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nA blank space about ten characters in length occurs here in the original\r\nedition [Publisher’s note].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSeveral minutes elapsed before Maria could enquire respecting the rumour of the\r\nhouse (for this poor wretch was obviously not confined without a cause); and\r\nthen Jemima could only tell her, that it was said, “she had been married,\r\nagainst her inclination, to a rich old man, extremely jealous (no wonder, for\r\nshe was a charming creature); and that, in consequence of his treatment, or\r\nsomething which hung on her mind, she had, during her first lying-in, lost her\r\nsenses.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWhat a subject of meditation—even to the very confines of madness.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Woman, fragile flower! why were you suffered to adorn a world exposed to the\r\ninroad of such stormy elements?” thought Maria, while the poor maniac’s strain\r\nwas still breathing on her ear, and sinking into her very soul.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTowards the evening, Jemima brought her Rousseau’s Heloise; and she sat reading\r\nwith eyes and heart, till the return of her guard to extinguish the light. One\r\ninstance of her kindness was, the permitting Maria to have one, till her own\r\nhour of retiring to rest. She had read this work long since; but now it seemed\r\nto open a new world to her—the only one worth inhabiting. Sleep was not to be\r\nwooed; yet, far from being fatigued by the restless rotation of thought, she\r\nrose and opened her window, just as the thin watery clouds of twilight made the\r\nlong silent shadows visible. The air swept across her face with a voluptuous\r\nfreshness that thrilled to her heart, awakening indefinable emotions; and the\r\nsound of a waving branch, or the twittering of a startled bird, alone broke the\r\nstillness of reposing nature. Absorbed by the sublime sensibility which renders\r\nthe consciousness of existence felicity, Maria was happy, till an autumnal\r\nscent, wafted by the breeze of morn from the fallen leaves of the adjacent\r\nwood, made her recollect that the season had changed since her confinement; yet\r\nlife afforded no variety to solace an afflicted heart. She returned dispirited\r\nto her couch, and thought of her child till the broad glare of day again\r\ninvited her to the window. She looked not for the unknown, still how great was\r\nher vexation at perceiving the back of a man, certainly he, with his two\r\nattendants, as he turned into a side-path which led to the house! A confused\r\nrecollection of having seen somebody who resembled him, immediately occurred,\r\nto puzzle and torment her with endless conjectures. Five minutes sooner, and\r\nshe should have seen his face, and been out of suspense—was ever any thing so\r\nunlucky! His steady, bold step, and the whole air of his person, bursting as it\r\nwere from a cloud, pleased her, and gave an outline to the imagination to\r\nsketch the individual form she wished to recognize.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nFeeling the disappointment more severely than she was willing to believe, she\r\nflew to Rousseau, as her only refuge from the idea of him, who might prove a\r\nfriend, could she but find a way to interest him in her fate; still the\r\npersonification of Saint Preux, or of an ideal lover far superior, was after\r\nthis imperfect model, of which merely a glance had been caught, even to the\r\nminutiae of the coat and hat of the stranger. But if she lent St. Preux, or the\r\ndemi-god of her fancy, his form, she richly repaid him by the donation of all\r\nSt. Preux’s sentiments and feelings, culled to gratify her own, to which he\r\nseemed to have an undoubted right, when she read on the margin of an\r\nimpassioned letter, written in the well-known hand—“Rousseau alone, the true\r\nPrometheus of sentiment, possessed the fire of genius necessary to pourtray the\r\npassion, the truth of which goes so directly to the heart.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria was again true to the hour, yet had finished Rousseau, and begun to\r\ntranscribe some selected passages; unable to quit either the author or the\r\nwindow, before she had a glimpse of the countenance she daily longed to see;\r\nand, when seen, it conveyed no distinct idea to her mind where she had seen it\r\nbefore. He must have been a transient acquaintance; but to discover an\r\nacquaintance was fortunate, could she contrive to attract his attention, and\r\nexcite his sympathy.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nEvery glance afforded colouring for the picture she was delineating on her\r\nheart; and once, when the window was half open, the sound of his voice reached\r\nher. Conviction flashed on her; she had certainly, in a moment of distress,\r\nheard the same accents. They were manly, and characteristic of a noble mind;\r\nnay, even sweet—or sweet they seemed to her attentive ear.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe started back, trembling, alarmed at the emotion a strange coincidence of\r\ncircumstances inspired, and wondering why she thought so much of a stranger,\r\nobliged as she had been by his timely interference; [for she recollected, by\r\ndegrees all the circumstances of their former meeting.] She found however that\r\nshe could think of nothing else; or, if she thought of her daughter, it was to\r\nwish that she had a father whom her mother could respect and love.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0003\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 3\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWhen perusing the first parcel of books, Maria had, with her pencil, written in\r\none of them a few exclamations, expressive of compassion and sympathy, which\r\nshe scarcely remembered, till turning over the leaves of one of the volumes,\r\nlately brought to her, a slip of paper dropped out, which Jemima hastily\r\nsnatched up.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Let me see it,” demanded Maria impatiently, “You surely are not afraid of\r\ntrusting me with the effusions of a madman?” “I must consider,” replied Jemima;\r\nand withdrew, with the paper in her hand.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn a life of such seclusion, the passions gain undue force; Maria therefore\r\nfelt a great degree of resentment and vexation, which she had not time to\r\nsubdue, before Jemima, returning, delivered the paper.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"letter\"\u003e\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Whoever you are, who partake of my fate, accept my sincere commiseration—I\r\nwould have said protection; but the privilege of man is denied me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My own situation forces a dreadful suspicion on my mind—I may not always\r\nlanguish in vain for freedom—say are you—I cannot ask the question; yet I will\r\nremember you when my remembrance can be of any use. I will enquire, why you are\r\nso mysteriously detained—and I will have an answer.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"right\"\u003e\r\n“HENRY DARNFORD.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nBy the most pressing intreaties, Maria prevailed on Jemima to permit her to\r\nwrite a reply to this note. Another and another succeeded, in which\r\nexplanations were not allowed relative to their present situation; but Maria,\r\nwith sufficient explicitness, alluded to a former obligation; and they\r\ninsensibly entered on an interchange of sentiments on the most important\r\nsubjects. To write these letters was the business of the day, and to receive\r\nthem the moment of sunshine. By some means, Darnford having discovered Maria’s\r\nwindow, when she next appeared at it, he made her, behind his keepers, a\r\nprofound bow of respect and recognition.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTwo or three weeks glided away in this kind of intercourse, during which period\r\nJemima, to whom Maria had given the necessary information respecting her\r\nfamily, had evidently gained some intelligence, which increased her desire of\r\npleasing her charge, though she could not yet determine to liberate her. Maria\r\ntook advantage of this favourable charge, without too minutely enquiring into\r\nthe cause; and such was her eagerness to hold human converse, and to see her\r\nformer protector, still a stranger to her, that she incessantly requested her\r\nguard to gratify her more than curiosity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWriting to Darnford, she was led from the sad objects before her, and\r\nfrequently rendered insensible to the horrid noises around her, which\r\npreviously had continually employed her feverish fancy. Thinking it selfish to\r\ndwell on her own sufferings, when in the midst of wretches, who had not only\r\nlost all that endears life, but their very selves, her imagination was occupied\r\nwith melancholy earnestness to trace the mazes of misery, through which so many\r\nwretches must have passed to this gloomy receptacle of disjointed souls, to the\r\ngrand source of human corruption. Often at midnight was she waked by the dismal\r\nshrieks of demoniac rage, or of excruciating despair, uttered in such wild\r\ntones of indescribable anguish as proved the total absence of reason, and\r\nroused phantoms of horror in her mind, far more terrific than all that dreaming\r\nsuperstition ever drew. Besides, there was frequently something so\r\ninconceivably picturesque in the varying gestures of unrestrained passion, so\r\nirresistibly comic in their sallies, or so heart-piercingly pathetic in the\r\nlittle airs they would sing, frequently bursting out after an awful silence, as\r\nto fascinate the attention, and amuse the fancy, while torturing the soul. It\r\nwas the uproar of the passions which she was compelled to observe; and to mark\r\nthe lucid beam of reason, like a light trembling in a socket, or like the flash\r\nwhich divides the threatening clouds of angry heaven only to display the\r\nhorrors which darkness shrouded.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima would labour to beguile the tedious evenings, by describing the persons\r\nand manners of the unfortunate beings, whose figures or voices awoke\r\nsympathetic sorrow in Maria’s bosom; and the stories she told were the more\r\ninteresting, for perpetually leaving room to conjecture something\r\nextraordinary. Still Maria, accustomed to generalize her observations, was led\r\nto conclude from all she heard, that it was a vulgar error to suppose that\r\npeople of abilities were the most apt to lose the command of reason. On the\r\ncontrary, from most of the instances she could investigate, she thought it\r\nresulted, that the passions only appeared strong and disproportioned, because\r\nthe judgment was weak and unexercised; and that they gained strength by the\r\ndecay of reason, as the shadows lengthen during the sun’s decline.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria impatiently wished to see her fellow-sufferer; but Darnford was still\r\nmore earnest to obtain an interview. Accustomed to submit to every impulse of\r\npassion, and never taught, like women, to restrain the most natural, and\r\nacquire, instead of the bewitching frankness of nature, a factitious propriety\r\nof behaviour, every desire became a torrent that bore down all opposition.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHis travelling trunk, which contained the books lent to Maria, had been sent to\r\nhim, and with a part of its contents he bribed his principal keeper; who, after\r\nreceiving the most solemn promise that he would return to his apartment without\r\nattempting to explore any part of the house, conducted him, in the dusk of the\r\nevening, to Maria’s room.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima had apprized her charge of the visit, and she expected with trembling\r\nimpatience, inspired by a vague hope that he might again prove her deliverer,\r\nto see a man who had before rescued her from oppression. He entered with an\r\nanimation of countenance, formed to captivate an enthusiast; and, hastily\r\nturned his eyes from her to the apartment, which he surveyed with apparent\r\nemotions of compassionate indignation. Sympathy illuminated his eye, and,\r\ntaking her hand, he respectfully bowed on it, exclaiming—“This is\r\nextraordinary!—again to meet you, and in such circumstances!” Still, impressive\r\nas was the coincidence of events which brought them once more together, their\r\nfull hearts did not overflow.—\u003ca href=\"#fn4\" name=\"fnref4\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[4]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn4\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref4\"\u003e[4]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe copy which had received the author’s last corrections breaks off in this\r\nplace, and the pages which follow, to the end of Chap. IV, are printed from a\r\ncopy in a less finished state. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n[And though, after this first visit, they were permitted frequently to repeat\r\ntheir interviews, they were for some time employed in] a reserved conversation,\r\nto which all the world might have listened; excepting, when discussing some\r\nliterary subject, flashes of sentiment, inforced by each relaxing feature,\r\nseemed to remind them that their minds were already acquainted.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n[By degrees, Darnford entered into the particulars of his story.] In a few\r\nwords, he informed her that he had been a thoughtless, extravagant young man;\r\nyet, as he described his faults, they appeared to be the generous luxuriancy of\r\na noble mind. Nothing like meanness tarnished the lustre of his youth, nor had\r\nthe worm of selfishness lurked in the unfolding bud, even while he had been the\r\ndupe of others. Yet he tardily acquired the experience necessary to guard him\r\nagainst future imposition.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I shall weary you,” continued he, “by my egotism; and did not powerful\r\nemotions draw me to you,”—his eyes glistened as he spoke, and a trembling\r\nseemed to run through his manly frame,—“I would not waste these precious\r\nmoments in talking of myself.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father and mother were people of fashion; married by their parents. He was\r\nfond of the turf, she of the card-table. I, and two or three other children\r\nsince dead, were kept at home till we became intolerable. My father and mother\r\nhad a visible dislike to each other, continually displayed; the servants were\r\nof the depraved kind usually found in the houses of people of fortune. My\r\nbrothers and parents all dying, I was left to the care of guardians; and sent\r\nto Eton. I never knew the sweets of domestic affection, but I felt the want of\r\nindulgence and frivolous respect at school. I will not disgust you with a\r\nrecital of the vices of my youth, which can scarcely be comprehended by female\r\ndelicacy. I was taught to love by a creature I am ashamed to mention; and the\r\nother women with whom I afterwards became intimate, were of a class of which\r\nyou can have no knowledge. I formed my acquaintance with them at the theaters;\r\nand, when vivacity danced in their eyes, I was not easily disgusted by the\r\nvulgarity which flowed from their lips. Having spent, a few years after I was\r\nof age, [the whole of] a considerable patrimony, excepting a few hundreds, I\r\nhad no resource but to purchase a commission in a new-raised regiment, destined\r\nto subjugate America. The regret I felt to renounce a life of pleasure, was\r\ncounter-balanced by the curiosity I had to see America, or rather to travel;\r\n[nor had any of those circumstances occurred to my youth, which might have been\r\ncalculated] to bind my country to my heart. I shall not trouble you with the\r\ndetails of a military life. My blood was still kept in motion; till, towards\r\nthe close of the contest, I was wounded and taken prisoner.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Confined to my bed, or chair, by a lingering cure, my only refuge from the\r\npreying activity of my mind, was books, which I read with great avidity,\r\nprofiting by the conversation of my host, a man of sound understanding. My\r\npolitical sentiments now underwent a total change; and, dazzled by the\r\nhospitality of the Americans, I determined to take up my abode with freedom. I,\r\ntherefore, with my usual impetuosity, sold my commission, and travelled into\r\nthe interior parts of the country, to lay out my money to advantage. Added to\r\nthis, I did not much like the puritanical manners of the large towns.\r\nInequality of condition was there most disgustingly galling. The only pleasure\r\nwealth afforded, was to make an ostentatious display of it; for the cultivation\r\nof the fine arts, or literature, had not introduced into the first circles that\r\npolish of manners which renders the rich so essentially superior to the poor in\r\nEurope. Added to this, an influx of vices had been let in by the Revolution,\r\nand the most rigid principles of religion shaken to the centre, before the\r\nunderstanding could be gradually emancipated from the prejudices which led\r\ntheir ancestors undauntedly to seek an inhospitable clime and unbroken soil.\r\nThe resolution, that led them, in pursuit of independence, to embark on rivers\r\nlike seas, to search for unknown shores, and to sleep under the hovering mists\r\nof endless forests, whose baleful damps agued their limbs, was now turned into\r\ncommercial speculations, till the national character exhibited a phenomenon in\r\nthe history of the human mind—a head enthusiastically enterprising, with cold\r\nselfishness of heart. And woman, lovely woman!—they charm everywhere—still\r\nthere is a degree of prudery, and a want of taste and ease in the manners of\r\nthe American women, that renders them, in spite of their roses and lilies, far\r\ninferior to our European charmers. In the country, they have often a bewitching\r\nsimplicity of character; but, in the cities, they have all the airs and\r\nignorance of the ladies who give the tone to the circles of the large trading\r\ntowns in England. They are fond of their ornaments, merely because they are\r\ngood, and not because they embellish their persons; and are more gratified to\r\ninspire the women with jealousy of these exterior advantages, than the men with\r\nlove. All the frivolity which often (excuse me, Madam) renders the society of\r\nmodest women so stupid in England, here seemed to throw still more leaden\r\nfetters on their charms. Not being an adept in gallantry, I found that I could\r\nonly keep myself awake in their company by making downright love to them.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But, not to intrude on your patience, I retired to the track of land which I\r\nhad purchased in the country, and my time passed pleasantly enough while I cut\r\ndown the trees, built my house, and planted my different crops. But winter and\r\nidleness came, and I longed for more elegant society, to hear what was passing\r\nin the world, and to do something better than vegetate with the animals that\r\nmade a very considerable part of my household. Consequently, I determined to\r\ntravel. Motion was a substitute for variety of objects; and, passing over\r\nimmense tracks of country, I exhausted my exuberant spirits, without obtaining\r\nmuch experience. I every where saw industry the fore-runner and not the\r\nconsequence, of luxury; but this country, everything being on an ample scale,\r\ndid not afford those picturesque views, which a certain degree of cultivation\r\nis necessary gradually to produce. The eye wandered without an object to fix\r\nupon over immeasureable plains, and lakes that seemed replenished by the ocean,\r\nwhilst eternal forests of small clustering trees, obstructed the circulation of\r\nair, and embarrassed the path, without gratifying the eye of taste. No cottage\r\nsmiling in the waste, no travellers hailed us, to give life to silent nature;\r\nor, if perchance we saw the print of a footstep in our path, it was a dreadful\r\nwarning to turn aside; and the head ached as if assailed by the scalping knife.\r\nThe Indians who hovered on the skirts of the European settlements had only\r\nlearned of their neighbours to plunder, and they stole their guns from them to\r\ndo it with more safety.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“From the woods and back settlements, I returned to the towns, and learned to\r\neat and drink most valiantly; but without entering into commerce (and I\r\ndetested commerce) I found I could not live there; and, growing heartily weary\r\nof the land of liberty and vulgar aristocracy, seated on her bags of dollars, I\r\nresolved once more to visit Europe. I wrote to a distant relation in England,\r\nwith whom I had been educated, mentioning the vessel in which I intended to\r\nsail. Arriving in London, my senses were intoxicated. I ran from street to\r\nstreet, from theater to theater, and the women of the town (again I must beg\r\npardon for my habitual frankness) appeared to me like angels.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A week was spent in this thoughtless manner, when, returning very late to the\r\nhotel in which I had lodged ever since my arrival, I was knocked down in a\r\nprivate street, and hurried, in a state of insensibility, into a coach, which\r\nbrought me hither, and I only recovered my senses to be treated like one who\r\nhad lost them. My keepers are deaf to my remonstrances and enquiries, yet\r\nassure me that my confinement shall not last long. Still I cannot guess, though\r\nI weary myself with conjectures, why I am confined, or in what part of England\r\nthis house is situated. I imagine sometimes that I hear the sea roar, and\r\nwished myself again on the Atlantic, till I had a glimpse of you.”\u003ca\r\nhref=\"#fn5\" name=\"fnref5\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[5]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn5\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref5\"\u003e[5]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe introduction of Darnford as the deliverer of Maria in a former instance,\r\nappears to have been an after-thought of the author. This has occasioned the\r\nomission of any allusion to that circumstance in the preceding narration.\r\nEDITOR. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA few moments were only allowed to Maria to comment on this narrative, when\r\nDarnford left her to her own thoughts, to the “never ending, still beginning,”\r\ntask of weighing his words, recollecting his tones of voice, and feeling them\r\nreverberate on her heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0004\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 4\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nPity, and the forlorn seriousness of adversity, have both been considered as\r\ndispositions favourable to love, while satirical writers have attributed the\r\npropensity to the relaxing effect of idleness; what chance then had Maria of\r\nescaping, when pity, sorrow, and solitude all conspired to soften her mind, and\r\nnourish romantic wishes, and, from a natural progress, romantic expectations?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria was six-and-twenty. But, such was the native soundness of her\r\nconstitution, that time had only given to her countenance the character of her\r\nmind. Revolving thought, and exercised affections had banished some of the\r\nplayful graces of innocence, producing insensibly that irregularity of features\r\nwhich the struggles of the understanding to trace or govern the strong emotions\r\nof the heart, are wont to imprint on the yielding mass. Grief and care had\r\nmellowed, without obscuring, the bright tints of youth, and the thoughtfulness\r\nwhich resided on her brow did not take from the feminine softness of her\r\nfeatures; nay, such was the sensibility which often mantled over it, that she\r\nfrequently appeared, like a large proportion of her sex, only born to feel; and\r\nthe activity of her well-proportioned, and even almost voluptuous figure,\r\ninspired the idea of strength of mind, rather than of body. There was a\r\nsimplicity sometimes indeed in her manner, which bordered on infantine\r\ningenuousness, that led people of common discernment to underrate her talents,\r\nand smile at the flights of her imagination. But those who could not comprehend\r\nthe delicacy of her sentiments, were attached by her unfailing sympathy, so\r\nthat she was very generally beloved by characters of very different\r\ndescriptions; still, she was too much under the influence of an ardent\r\nimagination to adhere to common rules.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThere are mistakes of conduct which at five-and-twenty prove the strength of\r\nthe mind, that, ten or fifteen years after, would demonstrate its weakness, its\r\nincapacity to acquire a sane judgment. The youths who are satisfied with the\r\nordinary pleasures of life, and do not sigh after ideal phantoms of love and\r\nfriendship, will never arrive at great maturity of understanding; but if these\r\nreveries are cherished, as is too frequently the case with women, when\r\nexperience ought to have taught them in what human happiness consists, they\r\nbecome as useless as they are wretched. Besides, their pains and pleasures are\r\nso dependent on outward circumstances, on the objects of their affections, that\r\nthey seldom act from the impulse of a nerved mind, able to choose its own\r\npursuit.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHaving had to struggle incessantly with the vices of mankind, Maria’s\r\nimagination found repose in pourtraying the possible virtues the world might\r\ncontain. Pygmalion formed an ivory maid, and longed for an informing soul. She,\r\non the contrary, combined all the qualities of a hero’s mind, and fate\r\npresented a statue in which she might enshrine them.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWe mean not to trace the progress of this passion, or recount how often\r\nDarnford and Maria were obliged to part in the midst of an interesting\r\nconversation. Jemima ever watched on the tip-toe of fear, and frequently\r\nseparated them on a false alarm, when they would have given worlds to remain a\r\nlittle longer together.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA magic lamp now seemed to be suspended in Maria’s prison, and fairy landscapes\r\nflitted round the gloomy walls, late so blank. Rushing from the depth of\r\ndespair, on the seraph wing of hope, she found herself happy.—She was beloved,\r\nand every emotion was rapturous.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTo Darnford she had not shown a decided affection; the fear of outrunning his,\r\na sure proof of love, made her often assume a coldness and indifference foreign\r\nfrom her character; and, even when giving way to the playful emotions of a\r\nheart just loosened from the frozen bond of grief, there was a delicacy in her\r\nmanner of expressing her sensibility, which made him doubt whether it was the\r\neffect of love.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nOne evening, when Jemima left them, to listen to the sound of a distant\r\nfootstep, which seemed cautiously to approach, he seized Maria’s hand—it was\r\nnot withdrawn. They conversed with earnestness of their situation; and, during\r\nthe conversation, he once or twice gently drew her towards him. He felt the\r\nfragrance of her breath, and longed, yet feared, to touch the lips from which\r\nit issued; spirits of purity seemed to guard them, while all the enchanting\r\ngraces of love sported on her cheeks, and languished in her eyes.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima entering, he reflected on his diffidence with poignant regret, and, she\r\nonce more taking alarm, he ventured, as Maria stood near his chair, to approach\r\nher lips with a declaration of love. She drew back with solemnity, he hung down\r\nhis head abashed; but lifting his eyes timidly, they met her’s; she had\r\ndetermined, during that instant, and suffered their rays to mingle. He took,\r\nwith more ardour, reassured, a half-consenting, half-reluctant kiss, reluctant\r\nonly from modesty; and there was a sacredness in her dignified manner of\r\nreclining her glowing face on his shoulder, that powerfully impressed him.\r\nDesire was lost in more ineffable emotions, and to protect her from insult and\r\nsorrow—to make her happy, seemed not only the first wish of his heart, but the\r\nmost noble duty of his life. Such angelic confidence demanded the fidelity of\r\nhonour; but could he, feeling her in every pulsation, could he ever change,\r\ncould he be a villain? The emotion with which she, for a moment, allowed\r\nherself to be pressed to his bosom, the tear of rapturous sympathy, mingled\r\nwith a soft melancholy sentiment of recollected disappointment, said—more of\r\ntruth and faithfulness, than the tongue could have given utterance to in hours!\r\nThey were silent—yet discoursed, how eloquently? till, after a moment’s\r\nreflection, Maria drew her chair by the side of his, and, with a composed\r\nsweetness of voice, and supernatural benignity of countenance, said, “I must\r\nopen my whole heart to you; you must be told who I am, why I am here, and why,\r\ntelling you I am a wife, I blush not to”—the blush spoke the rest.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima was again at her elbow, and the restraint of her presence did not\r\nprevent an animated conversation, in which love, sly urchin, was ever at\r\nbo-peep.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSo much of heaven did they enjoy, that paradise bloomed around them; or they,\r\nby a powerful spell, had been transported into Armida’s garden. Love, the grand\r\nenchanter, “lapt them in Elysium,” and every sense was harmonized to joy and\r\nsocial extacy. So animated, indeed, were their accents of tenderness, in\r\ndiscussing what, in other circumstances, would have been commonplace subjects,\r\nthat Jemima felt, with surprise, a tear of pleasure trickling down her rugged\r\ncheeks. She wiped it away, half ashamed; and when Maria kindly enquired the\r\ncause, with all the eager solicitude of a happy being wishing to impart to all\r\nnature its overflowing felicity, Jemima owned that it was the first tear that\r\nsocial enjoyment had ever drawn from her. She seemed indeed to breathe more\r\nfreely; the cloud of suspicion cleared away from her brow; she felt herself,\r\nfor once in her life, treated like a fellow-creature.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nImagination! who can paint thy power; or reflect the evanescent tints of hope\r\nfostered by thee? A despondent gloom had long obscured Maria’s horizon—now the\r\nsun broke forth, the rainbow appeared, and every prospect was fair. Horror\r\nstill reigned in the darkened cells, suspicion lurked in the passages, and\r\nwhispered along the walls. The yells of men possessed, sometimes, made them\r\npause, and wonder that they felt so happy, in a tomb of living death. They even\r\nchid themselves for such apparent insensibility; still the world contained not\r\nthree happier beings. And Jemima, after again patrolling the passage, was so\r\nsoftened by the air of confidence which breathed around her, that she\r\nvoluntarily began an account of herself.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0005\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 5\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father,” said Jemima, “seduced my mother, a pretty girl, with whom he lived\r\nfellow-servant; and she no sooner perceived the natural, the dreaded\r\nconsequence, than the terrible conviction flashed on her—that she was ruined.\r\nHonesty, and a regard for her reputation, had been the only principles\r\ninculcated by her mother; and they had been so forcibly impressed, that she\r\nfeared shame, more than the poverty to which it would lead. Her incessant\r\nimportunities to prevail upon my father to screen her from reproach by marrying\r\nher, as he had promised in the fervour of seduction, estranged him from her so\r\ncompletely, that her very person became distasteful to him; and he began to\r\nhate, as well as despise me, before I was born.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My mother, grieved to the soul by his neglect, and unkind treatment, actually\r\nresolved to famish herself; and injured her health by the attempt; though she\r\nhad not sufficient resolution to adhere to her project, or renounce it\r\nentirely. Death came not at her call; yet sorrow, and the methods she adopted\r\nto conceal her condition, still doing the work of a house-maid, had such an\r\neffect on her constitution, that she died in the wretched garret, where her\r\nvirtuous mistress had forced her to take refuge in the very pangs of labour,\r\nthough my father, after a slight reproof, was allowed to remain in his\r\nplace—allowed by the mother of six children, who, scarcely permitting a\r\nfootstep to be heard, during her month’s indulgence, felt no sympathy for the\r\npoor wretch, denied every comfort required by her situation.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The day my mother, died, the ninth after my birth, I was consigned to the care\r\nof the cheapest nurse my father could find; who suckled her own child at the\r\nsame time, and lodged as many more as she could get, in two cellar-like\r\napartments.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Poverty, and the habit of seeing children die off her hands, had so hardened\r\nher heart, that the office of a mother did not awaken the tenderness of a\r\nwoman; nor were the feminine caresses which seem a part of the rearing of a\r\nchild, ever bestowed on me. The chicken has a wing to shelter under; but I had\r\nno bosom to nestle in, no kindred warmth to foster me. Left in dirt, to cry\r\nwith cold and hunger till I was weary, and sleep without ever being prepared by\r\nexercise, or lulled by kindness to rest; could I be expected to become any\r\nthing but a weak and rickety babe? Still, in spite of neglect, I continued to\r\nexist, to learn to curse existence, [her countenance grew ferocious as she\r\nspoke,] and the treatment that rendered me miserable, seemed to sharpen my\r\nwits. Confined then in a damp hovel, to rock the cradle of the succeeding\r\ntribe, I looked like a little old woman, or a hag shrivelling into nothing. The\r\nfurrows of reflection and care contracted the youthful cheek, and gave a sort\r\nof supernatural wildness to the ever watchful eye. During this period, my\r\nfather had married another fellow-servant, who loved him less, and knew better\r\nhow to manage his passion, than my mother. She likewise proving with child,\r\nthey agreed to keep a shop: my step-mother, if, being an illegitimate\r\noffspring, I may venture thus to characterize her, having obtained a sum of a\r\nrich relation, for that purpose.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Soon after her lying-in, she prevailed on my father to take me home, to save\r\nthe expense of maintaining me, and of hiring a girl to assist her in the care\r\nof the child. I was young, it was true, but appeared a knowing little thing,\r\nand might be made handy. Accordingly I was brought to her house; but not to a\r\nhome—for a home I never knew. Of this child, a daughter, she was extravagantly\r\nfond; and it was a part of my employment, to assist to spoil her, by humouring\r\nall her whims, and bearing all her caprices. Feeling her own consequence,\r\nbefore she could speak, she had learned the art of tormenting me, and if I ever\r\ndared to resist, I received blows, laid on with no compunctious hand, or was\r\nsent to bed dinnerless, as well as supperless. I said that it was a part of my\r\ndaily labour to attend this child, with the servility of a slave; still it was\r\nbut a part. I was sent out in all seasons, and from place to place, to carry\r\nburdens far above my strength, without being allowed to draw near the fire, or\r\never being cheered by encouragement or kindness. No wonder then, treated like a\r\ncreature of another species, that I began to envy, and at length to hate, the\r\ndarling of the house. Yet, I perfectly remember, that it was the caresses, and\r\nkind expressions of my step-mother, which first excited my jealous discontent.\r\nOnce, I cannot forget it, when she was calling in vain her wayward child to\r\nkiss her, I ran to her, saying, ‘I will kiss you, ma’am!’ and how did my heart,\r\nwhich was in my mouth, sink, what was my debasement of soul, when pushed away\r\nwith—‘I do not want you, pert thing!’ Another day, when a new gown had excited\r\nthe highest good humour, and she uttered the appropriate dear, addressed\r\nunexpectedly to me, I thought I could never do enough to please her; I was all\r\nalacrity, and rose proportionably in my own estimation.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“As her daughter grew up, she was pampered with cakes and fruit, while I was,\r\nliterally speaking, fed with the refuse of the table, with her leavings. A\r\nliquorish tooth is, I believe, common to children, and I used to steal any\r\nthing sweet, that I could catch up with a chance of concealment. When detected,\r\nshe was not content to chastize me herself at the moment, but, on my father’s\r\nreturn in the evening (he was a shopman), the principal discourse was to\r\nrecount my faults, and attribute them to the wicked disposition which I had\r\nbrought into the world with me, inherited from my mother. He did not fail to\r\nleave the marks of his resentment on my body, and then solaced himself by\r\nplaying with my sister.—I could have murdered her at those moments. To save\r\nmyself from these unmerciful corrections, I resorted to falshood, and the\r\nuntruths which I sturdily maintained, were brought in judgment against me, to\r\nsupport my tyrant’s inhuman charge of my natural propensity to vice. Seeing me\r\ntreated with contempt, and always being fed and dressed better, my sister\r\nconceived a contemptuous opinion of me, that proved an obstacle to all\r\naffection; and my father, hearing continually of my faults, began to consider\r\nme as a curse entailed on him for his sins: he was therefore easily prevailed\r\non to bind me apprentice to one of my step-mother’s friends, who kept a\r\nslop-shop in Wapping. I was represented (as it was said) in my true colours;\r\nbut she, ‘warranted,’ snapping her fingers, ‘that she should break my spirit or\r\nheart.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My mother replied, with a whine, ‘that if any body could make me better, it\r\nwas such a clever woman as herself; though, for her own part, she had tried in\r\nvain; but good-nature was her fault.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I shudder with horror, when I recollect the treatment I had now to endure. Not\r\nonly under the lash of my task-mistress, but the drudge of the maid,\r\napprentices and children, I never had a taste of human kindness to soften the\r\nrigour of perpetual labour. I had been introduced as an object of abhorrence\r\ninto the family; as a creature of whom my step-mother, though she had been kind\r\nenough to let me live in the house with her own child, could make nothing. I\r\nwas described as a wretch, whose nose must be kept to the grinding stone—and it\r\nwas held there with an iron grasp. It seemed indeed the privilege of their\r\nsuperior nature to kick me about, like the dog or cat. If I were attentive, I\r\nwas called fawning, if refractory, an obstinate mule, and like a mule I\r\nreceived their censure on my loaded back. Often has my mistress, for some\r\ninstance of forgetfulness, thrown me from one side of the kitchen to the other,\r\nknocked my head against the wall, spit in my face, with various refinements on\r\nbarbarity that I forbear to enumerate, though they were all acted over again by\r\nthe servant, with additional insults, to which the appellation of bastard, was\r\ncommonly added, with taunts or sneers. But I will not attempt to give you an\r\nadequate idea of my situation, lest you, who probably have never been drenched\r\nwith the dregs of human misery, should think I exaggerate.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I stole now, from absolute necessity,—bread; yet whatever else was taken,\r\nwhich I had it not in my power to take, was ascribed to me. I was the filching\r\ncat, the ravenous dog, the dumb brute, who must bear all; for if I endeavoured\r\nto exculpate myself, I was silenced, without any enquiries being made, with\r\n‘Hold your tongue, you never tell truth.’ Even the very air I breathed was\r\ntainted with scorn; for I was sent to the neighbouring shops with Glutton,\r\nLiar, or Thief, written on my forehead. This was, at first, the most bitter\r\npunishment; but sullen pride, or a kind of stupid desperation, made me, at\r\nlength, almost regardless of the contempt, which had wrung from me so many\r\nsolitary tears at the only moments when I was allowed to rest.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Thus was I the mark of cruelty till my sixteenth year; and then I have only to\r\npoint out a change of misery; for a period I never knew. Allow me first to make\r\none observation. Now I look back, I cannot help attributing the greater part of\r\nmy misery, to the misfortune of having been thrown into the world without the\r\ngrand support of life—a mother’s affection. I had no one to love me; or to make\r\nme respected, to enable me to acquire respect. I was an egg dropped on the\r\nsand; a pauper by nature, hunted from family to family, who belonged to\r\nnobody—and nobody cared for me. I was despised from my birth, and denied the\r\nchance of obtaining a footing for myself in society. Yes; I had not even the\r\nchance of being considered as a fellow-creature—yet all the people with whom I\r\nlived, brutalized as they were by the low cunning of trade, and the despicable\r\nshifts of poverty, were not without bowels, though they never yearned for me. I\r\nwas, in fact, born a slave, and chained by infamy to slavery during the whole\r\nof existence, without having any companions to alleviate it by sympathy, or\r\nteach me how to rise above it by their example. But, to resume the thread of my\r\ntale—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“At sixteen, I suddenly grew tall, and something like comeliness appeared on a\r\nSunday, when I had time to wash my face, and put on clean clothes. My master\r\nhad once or twice caught hold of me in the passage; but I instinctively avoided\r\nhis disgusting caresses. One day however, when the family were at a methodist\r\nmeeting, he contrived to be alone in the house with me, and by blows—yes; blows\r\nand menaces, compelled me to submit to his ferocious desire; and, to avoid my\r\nmistress’s fury, I was obliged in future to comply, and skulk to my loft at his\r\ncommand, in spite of increasing loathing.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The anguish which was now pent up in my bosom, seemed to open a new world to\r\nme: I began to extend my thoughts beyond myself, and grieve for human misery,\r\ntill I discovered, with horror—ah! what horror!—that I was with child. I know\r\nnot why I felt a mixed sensation of despair and tenderness, excepting that,\r\never called a bastard, a bastard appeared to me an object of the greatest\r\ncompassion in creation.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I communicated this dreadful circumstance to my master, who was almost equally\r\nalarmed at the intelligence; for he feared his wife, and public censure at the\r\nmeeting. After some weeks of deliberation had elapsed, I in continual fear that\r\nmy altered shape would be noticed, my master gave me a medicine in a phial,\r\nwhich he desired me to take, telling me, without any circumlocution, for what\r\npurpose it was designed. I burst into tears, I thought it was killing\r\nmyself—yet was such a self as I worth preserving? He cursed me for a fool, and\r\nleft me to my own reflections. I could not resolve to take this infernal\r\npotion; but I wrapped it up in an old gown, and hid it in a corner of my box.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Nobody yet suspected me, because they had been accustomed to view me as a\r\ncreature of another species. But the threatening storm at last broke over my\r\ndevoted head—never shall I forget it! One Sunday evening when I was left, as\r\nusual, to take care of the house, my master came home intoxicated, and I became\r\nthe prey of his brutal appetite. His extreme intoxication made him forget his\r\ncustomary caution, and my mistress entered and found us in a situation that\r\ncould not have been more hateful to her than me. Her husband was ‘pot-valiant,’\r\nhe feared her not at the moment, nor had he then much reason, for she instantly\r\nturned the whole force of her anger another way. She tore off my cap,\r\nscratched, kicked, and buffetted me, till she had exhausted her strength,\r\ndeclaring, as she rested her arm, ‘that I had wheedled her husband from\r\nher.—But, could any thing better be expected from a wretch, whom she had taken\r\ninto her house out of pure charity?’ What a torrent of abuse rushed out? till,\r\nalmost breathless, she concluded with saying, ‘that I was born a strumpet; it\r\nran in my blood, and nothing good could come to those who harboured me.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My situation was, of course, discovered, and she declared that I should not\r\nstay another night under the same roof with an honest family. I was therefore\r\npushed out of doors, and my trumpery thrown after me, when it had been\r\ncontemptuously examined in the passage, lest I should have stolen any thing.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Behold me then in the street, utterly destitute! Whither could I creep for\r\nshelter? To my father’s roof I had no claim, when not pursued by shame—now I\r\nshrunk back as from death, from my mother’s cruel reproaches, my father’s\r\nexecrations. I could not endure to hear him curse the day I was born, though\r\nlife had been a curse to me. Of death I thought, but with a confused emotion of\r\nterror, as I stood leaning my head on a post, and starting at every footstep,\r\nlest it should be my mistress coming to tear my heart out. One of the boys of\r\nthe shop passing by, heard my tale, and immediately repaired to his master, to\r\ngive him a description of my situation; and he touched the right key—the\r\nscandal it would give rise to, if I were left to repeat my tale to every\r\nenquirer. This plea came home to his reason, who had been sobered by his wife’s\r\nrage, the fury of which fell on him when I was out of her reach, and he sent\r\nthe boy to me with half-a-guinea, desiring him to conduct me to a house, where\r\nbeggars, and other wretches, the refuse of society, nightly lodged.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This night was spent in a state of stupefaction, or desperation. I detested\r\nmankind, and abhorred myself.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“In the morning I ventured out, to throw myself in my master’s way, at his\r\nusual hour of going abroad. I approached him, he ‘damned me for a b——, declared\r\nI had disturbed the peace of the family, and that he had sworn to his wife,\r\nnever to take any more notice of me.’ He left me; but, instantly returning, he\r\ntold me that he should speak to his friend, a parish-officer, to get a nurse\r\nfor the brat I laid to him; and advised me, if I wished to keep out of the\r\nhouse of correction, not to make free with his name.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I hurried back to my hole, and, rage giving place to despair, sought for the\r\npotion that was to procure abortion, and swallowed it, with a wish that it\r\nmight destroy me, at the same time that it stopped the sensations of new-born\r\nlife, which I felt with indescribable emotion. My head turned round, my heart\r\ngrew sick, and in the horrors of approaching dissolution, mental anguish was\r\nswallowed up. The effect of the medicine was violent, and I was confined to my\r\nbed several days; but, youth and a strong constitution prevailing, I once more\r\ncrawled out, to ask myself the cruel question, ‘Whither I should go?’ I had but\r\ntwo shillings left in my pocket, the rest had been expended, by a poor woman\r\nwho slept in the same room, to pay for my lodging, and purchase the necessaries\r\nof which she partook.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“With this wretch I went into the neighbouring streets to beg, and my\r\ndisconsolate appearance drew a few pence from the idle, enabling me still to\r\ncommand a bed; till, recovering from my illness, and taught to put on my rags\r\nto the best advantage, I was accosted from different motives, and yielded to\r\nthe desire of the brutes I met, with the same detestation that I had felt for\r\nmy still more brutal master. I have since read in novels of the blandishments\r\nof seduction, but I had not even the pleasure of being enticed into vice.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I shall not,” interrupted Jemima, “lead your imagination into all the scenes\r\nof wretchedness and depravity, which I was condemned to view; or mark the\r\ndifferent stages of my debasing misery. Fate dragged me through the very\r\nkennels of society: I was still a slave, a bastard, a common property. Become\r\nfamiliar with vice, for I wish to conceal nothing from you, I picked the\r\npockets of the drunkards who abused me; and proved by my conduct, that I\r\ndeserved the epithets, with which they loaded me at moments when distrust ought\r\nto cease.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Detesting my nightly occupation, though valuing, if I may so use the word, my\r\nindependence, which only consisted in choosing the street in which I should\r\nwander, or the roof, when I had money, in which I should hide my head, I was\r\nsome time before I could prevail on myself to accept of a place in a house of\r\nill fame, to which a girl, with whom I had accidentally conversed in the\r\nstreet, had recommended me. I had been hunted almost into a fever, by the\r\nwatchmen of the quarter of the town I frequented; one, whom I had unwittingly\r\noffended, giving the word to the whole pack. You can scarcely conceive the\r\ntyranny exercised by these wretches: considering themselves as the instruments\r\nof the very laws they violate, the pretext which steels their conscience,\r\nhardens their heart. Not content with receiving from us, outlaws of society\r\n(let other women talk of favours) a brutal gratification gratuitously as a\r\nprivilege of office, they extort a tithe of prostitution, and harrass with\r\nthreats the poor creatures whose occupation affords not the means to silence\r\nthe growl of avarice. To escape from this persecution, I once more entered into\r\nservitude.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A life of comparative regularity restored my health; and—do not start—my\r\nmanners were improved, in a situation where vice sought to render itself\r\nalluring, and taste was cultivated to fashion the person, if not to refine the\r\nmind. Besides, the common civility of speech, contrasted with the gross\r\nvulgarity to which I had been accustomed, was something like the polish of\r\ncivilization. I was not shut out from all intercourse of humanity. Still I was\r\ngalled by the yoke of service, and my mistress often flying into violent fits\r\nof passion, made me dread a sudden dismission, which I understood was always\r\nthe case. I was therefore prevailed on, though I felt a horror of men, to\r\naccept the offer of a gentleman, rather in the decline of years, to keep his\r\nhouse, pleasantly situated in a little village near Hampstead.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He was a man of great talents, and of brilliant wit; but, a worn-out votary of\r\nvoluptuousness, his desires became fastidious in proportion as they grew weak,\r\nand the native tenderness of his heart was undermined by a vitiated\r\nimagination. A thoughtless career of libertinism and social enjoyment, had\r\ninjured his health to such a degree, that, whatever pleasure his conversation\r\nafforded me (and my esteem was ensured by proofs of the generous humanity of\r\nhis disposition), the being his mistress was purchasing it at a very dear rate.\r\nWith such a keen perception of the delicacies of sentiment, with an imagination\r\ninvigorated by the exercise of genius, how could he sink into the grossness of\r\nsensuality!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But, to pass over a subject which I recollect with pain, I must remark to you,\r\nas an answer to your often-repeated question, ‘Why my sentiments and language\r\nwere superior to my station?’ that I now began to read, to beguile the\r\ntediousness of solitude, and to gratify an inquisitive, active mind. I had\r\noften, in my childhood, followed a ballad-singer, to hear the sequel of a\r\ndismal story, though sure of being severely punished for delaying to return\r\nwith whatever I was sent to purchase. I could just spell and put a sentence\r\ntogether, and I listened to the various arguments, though often mingled with\r\nobscenity, which occurred at the table where I was allowed to preside: for a\r\nliterary friend or two frequently came home with my master, to dine and pass\r\nthe night. Having lost the privileged respect of my sex, my presence, instead\r\nof restraining, perhaps gave the reins to their tongues; still I had the\r\nadvantage of hearing discussions, from which, in the common course of life,\r\nwomen are excluded.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“You may easily imagine, that it was only by degrees that I could comprehend\r\nsome of the subjects they investigated, or acquire from their reasoning what\r\nmight be termed a moral sense. But my fondness of reading increasing, and my\r\nmaster occasionally shutting himself up in this retreat, for weeks together, to\r\nwrite, I had many opportunities of improvement. At first, considering money (I\r\nwas right!” exclaimed Jemima, altering her tone of voice) “as the only means,\r\nafter my loss of reputation, of obtaining respect, or even the toleration of\r\nhumanity, I had not the least scruple to secrete a part of the sums intrusted\r\nto me, and to screen myself from detection by a system of falshood. But,\r\nacquiring new principles, I began to have the ambition of returning to the\r\nrespectable part of society, and was weak enough to suppose it possible. The\r\nattention of my unassuming instructor, who, without being ignorant of his own\r\npowers, possessed great simplicity of manners, strengthened the illusion.\r\nHaving sometimes caught up hints for thought, from my untutored remarks, he\r\noften led me to discuss the subjects he was treating, and would read to me his\r\nproductions, previous to their publication, wishing to profit by the criticism\r\nof unsophisticated feeling. The aim of his writings was to touch the simple\r\nsprings of the heart; for he despised the would-be oracles, the self-elected\r\nphilosophers, who fright away fancy, while sifting each grain of thought to\r\nprove that slowness of comprehension is wisdom.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I should have distinguished this as a moment of sunshine, a happy period in my\r\nlife, had not the repugnance the disgusting libertinism of my protector\r\ninspired, daily become more painful.—And, indeed, I soon did recollect it as\r\nsuch with agony, when his sudden death (for he had recourse to the most\r\nexhilarating cordials to keep up the convivial tone of his spirits) again threw\r\nme into the desert of human society. Had he had any time for reflection, I am\r\ncertain he would have left the little property in his power to me: but,\r\nattacked by the fatal apoplexy in town, his heir, a man of rigid morals,\r\nbrought his wife with him to take possession of the house and effects, before I\r\nwas even informed of his death,—‘to prevent,’ as she took care indirectly to\r\ntell me, ‘such a creature as she supposed me to be, from purloining any of\r\nthem, had I been apprized of the event in time.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The grief I felt at the sudden shock the information gave me, which at first\r\nhad nothing selfish in it, was treated with contempt, and I was ordered to pack\r\nup my clothes; and a few trinkets and books, given me by the generous deceased,\r\nwere contested, while they piously hoped, with a reprobating shake of the head,\r\n‘that God would have mercy on his sinful soul!’ With some difficulty, I\r\nobtained my arrears of wages; but asking—such is the spirit-grinding\r\nconsequence of poverty and infamy—for a character for honesty and economy,\r\nwhich God knows I merited, I was told by this—why must I call her woman?—‘that\r\nit would go against her conscience to recommend a kept mistress.’ Tears started\r\nin my eyes, burning tears; for there are situations in which a wretch is\r\nhumbled by the contempt they are conscious they do not deserve.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I returned to the metropolis; but the solitude of a poor lodging was\r\ninconceivably dreary, after the society I had enjoyed. To be cut off from human\r\nconverse, now I had been taught to relish it, was to wander a ghost among the\r\nliving. Besides, I foresaw, to aggravate the severity of my fate, that my\r\nlittle pittance would soon melt away. I endeavoured to obtain needlework; but,\r\nnot having been taught early, and my hands being rendered clumsy by hard work,\r\nI did not sufficiently excel to be employed by the ready-made linen shops, when\r\nso many women, better qualified, were suing for it. The want of a character\r\nprevented my getting a place; for, irksome as servitude would have been to me,\r\nI should have made another trial, had it been feasible. Not that I disliked\r\nemployment, but the inequality of condition to which I must have submitted. I\r\nhad acquired a taste for literature, during the five years I had lived with a\r\nliterary man, occasionally conversing with men of the first abilities of the\r\nage; and now to descend to the lowest vulgarity, was a degree of wretchedness\r\nnot to be imagined unfelt. I had not, it is true, tasted the charms of\r\naffection, but I had been familiar with the graces of humanity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“One of the gentlemen, whom I had frequently dined in company with, while I was\r\ntreated like a companion, met me in the street, and enquired after my health. I\r\nseized the occasion, and began to describe my situation; but he was in haste to\r\njoin, at dinner, a select party of choice spirits; therefore, without waiting\r\nto hear me, he impatiently put a guinea into my hand, saying, ‘It was a pity\r\nsuch a sensible woman should be in distress—he wished me well from his soul.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To another I wrote, stating my case, and requesting advice. He was an advocate\r\nfor unequivocal sincerity; and had often, in my presence, descanted on the\r\nevils which arise in society from the despotism of rank and riches.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“In reply, I received a long essay on the energy of the human mind, with\r\ncontinual allusions to his own force of character. He added, ‘That the woman\r\nwho could write such a letter as I had sent him, could never be in want of\r\nresources, were she to look into herself, and exert her powers; misery was the\r\nconsequence of indolence, and, as to my being shut out from society, it was the\r\nlot of man to submit to certain privations.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“How often have I heard,” said Jemima, interrupting her narrative, “in\r\nconversation, and read in books, that every person willing to work may find\r\nemployment? It is the vague assertion, I believe, of insensible indolence, when\r\nit relates to men; but, with respect to women, I am sure of its fallacy, unless\r\nthey will submit to the most menial bodily labour; and even to be employed at\r\nhard labour is out of the reach of many, whose reputation misfortune or folly\r\nhas tainted.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“How writers, professing to be friends to freedom, and the improvement of\r\nmorals, can assert that poverty is no evil, I cannot imagine.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“No more can I,” interrupted Maria, “yet they even expatiate on the peculiar\r\nhappiness of indigence, though in what it can consist, excepting in brutal\r\nrest, when a man can barely earn a subsistence, I cannot imagine. The mind is\r\nnecessarily imprisoned in its own little tenement; and, fully occupied by\r\nkeeping it in repair, has not time to rove abroad for improvement. The book of\r\nknowledge is closely clasped, against those who must fulfil their daily task of\r\nsevere manual labour or die; and curiosity, rarely excited by thought or\r\ninformation, seldom moves on the stagnate lake of ignorance.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“As far as I have been able to observe,” replied Jemima, “prejudices, caught up\r\nby chance, are obstinately maintained by the poor, to the exclusion of\r\nimprovement; they have not time to reason or reflect to any extent, or minds\r\nsufficiently exercised to adopt the principles of action, which form perhaps\r\nthe only basis of contentment in every station.”\u003ca href=\"#fn6\"\r\nname=\"fnref6\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[6]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn6\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref6\"\u003e[6]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe copy which appears to have received the author’s last corrections, ends at\r\nthis place. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“And independence,” said Darnford, “they are necessarily strangers to, even the\r\nindependence of despising their persecutors. If the poor are happy, or can be\r\nhappy, \u003ci\u003ethings are very well as they are\u003c/i\u003e. And I cannot conceive on what\r\nprinciple those writers contend for a change of system, who support this\r\nopinion. The authors on the other side of the question are much more\r\nconsistent, who grant the fact; yet, insisting that it is the lot of the\r\nmajority to be oppressed in this life, kindly turn them over to another, to\r\nrectify the false weights and measures of this, as the only way to justify the\r\ndispensations of Providence. I have not,” continued Darnford, “an opinion more\r\nfirmly fixed by observation in my mind, than that, though riches may fail to\r\nproduce proportionate happiness, poverty most commonly excludes it, by shutting\r\nup all the avenues to improvement.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“And as for the affections,” added Maria, with a sigh, “how gross, and even\r\ntormenting do they become, unless regulated by an improving mind! The culture\r\nof the heart ever, I believe, keeps pace with that of the mind. But pray go\r\non,” addressing Jemima, “though your narrative gives rise to the most painful\r\nreflections on the present state of society.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Not to trouble you,” continued she, “with a detailed description of all the\r\npainful feelings of unavailing exertion, I have only to tell you, that at last\r\nI got recommended to wash in a few families, who did me the favour to admit me\r\ninto their houses, without the most strict enquiry, to wash from one in the\r\nmorning till eight at night, for eighteen or twenty-pence a day. On the\r\nhappiness to be enjoyed over a washing-tub I need not comment; yet you will\r\nallow me to observe, that this was a wretchedness of situation peculiar to my\r\nsex. A man with half my industry, and, I may say, abilities, could have\r\nprocured a decent livelihood, and discharged some of the duties which knit\r\nmankind together; whilst I, who had acquired a taste for the rational, nay, in\r\nhonest pride let me assert it, the virtuous enjoyments of life, was cast aside\r\nas the filth of society. Condemned to labour, like a machine, only to earn\r\nbread, and scarcely that, I became melancholy and desperate.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I have now to mention a circumstance which fills me with remorse, and fear it\r\nwill entirely deprive me of your esteem. A tradesman became attached to me, and\r\nvisited me frequently,—and I at last obtained such a power over him, that he\r\noffered to take me home to his house.—Consider, dear madam, I was famishing:\r\nwonder not that I became a wolf!—The only reason for not taking me home\r\nimmediately, was the having a girl in the house, with child by him—and this\r\ngirl—I advised him—yes, I did! would I could forget it!—to turn out of doors:\r\nand one night he determined to follow my advice. Poor wretch! She fell upon her\r\nknees, reminded him that he had promised to marry her, that her parents were\r\nhonest!—What did it avail?—She was turned out.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She approached her father’s door, in the skirts of London,—listened at the\r\nshutters,—but could not knock. A watchman had observed her go and return\r\nseveral times—Poor wretch!—[The remorse Jemima spoke of, seemed to be stinging\r\nher to the soul, as she proceeded.]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She left it, and, approaching a tub where horses were watered, she sat down in\r\nit, and, with desperate resolution, remained in that attitude—till resolution\r\nwas no longer necessary!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I happened that morning to be going out to wash, anticipating the moment when\r\nI should escape from such hard labour. I passed by, just as some men, going to\r\nwork, drew out the stiff, cold corpse—Let me not recall the horrid moment!—I\r\nrecognized her pale visage; I listened to the tale told by the spectators, and\r\nmy heart did not burst. I thought of my own state, and wondered how I could be\r\nsuch a monster!—I worked hard; and, returning home, I was attacked by a fever.\r\nI suffered both in body and mind. I determined not to live with the wretch. But\r\nhe did not try me; he left the neighbourhood. I once more returned to the\r\nwash-tub.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Still this state, miserable as it was, admitted of aggravation. Lifting one\r\nday a heavy load, a tub fell against my shin, and gave me great pain. I did not\r\npay much attention to the hurt, till it became a serious wound; being obliged\r\nto work as usual, or starve. But, finding myself at length unable to stand for\r\nany time, I thought of getting into an hospital. Hospitals, it should seem (for\r\nthey are comfortless abodes for the sick) were expressly endowed for the\r\nreception of the friendless; yet I, who had on that plea a right to assistance,\r\nwanted the recommendation of the rich and respectable, and was several weeks\r\nlanguishing for admittance; fees were demanded on entering; and, what was still\r\nmore unreasonable, security for burying me, that expence not coming into the\r\nletter of the charity. A guinea was the stipulated sum—I could as soon have\r\nraised a million; and I was afraid to apply to the parish for an order, lest\r\nthey should have passed me, I knew not whither. The poor woman at whose house I\r\nlodged, compassionating my state, got me into the hospital; and the family\r\nwhere I received the hurt, sent me five shillings, three and six-pence of which\r\nI gave at my admittance—I know not for what.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My leg grew quickly better; but I was dismissed before my cure was completed,\r\nbecause I could not afford to have my linen washed to appear decently, as the\r\nvirago of a nurse said, when the gentlemen (the surgeons) came. I cannot give\r\nyou an adequate idea of the wretchedness of an hospital; every thing is left to\r\nthe care of people intent on gain. The attendants seem to have lost all feeling\r\nof compassion in the bustling discharge of their offices; death is so familiar\r\nto them, that they are not anxious to ward it off. Every thing appeared to be\r\nconducted for the accommodation of the medical men and their pupils, who came\r\nto make experiments on the poor, for the benefit of the rich. One of the\r\nphysicians, I must not forget to mention, gave me half-a-crown, and ordered me\r\nsome wine, when I was at the lowest ebb. I thought of making my case known to\r\nthe lady-like matron; but her forbidding countenance prevented me. She\r\ncondescended to look on the patients, and make general enquiries, two or three\r\ntimes a week; but the nurses knew the hour when the visit of ceremony would\r\ncommence, and every thing was as it should be.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After my dismission, I was more at a loss than ever for a subsistence, and,\r\nnot to weary you with a repetition of the same unavailing attempts, unable to\r\nstand at the washing-tub, I began to consider the rich and poor as natural\r\nenemies, and became a thief from principle. I could not now cease to reason,\r\nbut I hated mankind. I despised myself, yet I justified my conduct. I was\r\ntaken, tried, and condemned to six months’ imprisonment in a house of\r\ncorrection. My soul recoils with horror from the remembrance of the insults I\r\nhad to endure, till, branded with shame, I was turned loose in the street,\r\npennyless. I wandered from street to street, till, exhausted by hunger and\r\nfatigue, I sunk down senseless at a door, where I had vainly demanded a morsel\r\nof bread. I was sent by the inhabitant to the work-house, to which he had\r\nsurlily bid me go, saying, he ‘paid enough in conscience to the poor,’ when,\r\nwith parched tongue, I implored his charity. If those well-meaning people who\r\nexclaim against beggars, were acquainted with the treatment the poor receive in\r\nmany of these wretched asylums, they would not stifle so easily involuntary\r\nsympathy, by saying that they have all parishes to go to, or wonder that the\r\npoor dread to enter the gloomy walls. What are the common run of workhouses,\r\nbut prisons, in which many respectable old people, worn out by immoderate\r\nlabour, sink into the grave in sorrow, to which they are carried like dogs!”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAlarmed by some indistinct noise, Jemima rose hastily to listen, and Maria,\r\nturning to Darnford, said, “I have indeed been shocked beyond expression when I\r\nhave met a pauper’s funeral. A coffin carried on the shoulders of three or four\r\nill-looking wretches, whom the imagination might easily convert into a band of\r\nassassins, hastening to conceal the corpse, and quarrelling about the prey on\r\ntheir way. I know it is of little consequence how we are consigned to the\r\nearth; but I am led by this brutal insensibility, to what even the animal\r\ncreation appears forcibly to feel, to advert to the wretched, deserted manner\r\nin which they died.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“True,” rejoined Darnford, “and, till the rich will give more than a part of\r\ntheir wealth, till they will give time and attention to the wants of the\r\ndistressed, never let them boast of charity. Let them open their hearts, and\r\nnot their purses, and employ their minds in the service, if they are really\r\nactuated by humanity; or charitable institutions will always be the prey of the\r\nlowest order of knaves.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima returning, seemed in haste to finish her tale. “The overseer farmed the\r\npoor of different parishes, and out of the bowels of poverty was wrung the\r\nmoney with which he purchased this dwelling, as a private receptacle for\r\nmadness. He had been a keeper at a house of the same description, and conceived\r\nthat he could make money much more readily in his old occupation. He is a\r\nshrewd—shall I say it?—villain. He observed something resolute in my manner,\r\nand offered to take me with him, and instruct me how to treat the disturbed\r\nminds he meant to intrust to my care. The offer of forty pounds a year, and to\r\nquit a workhouse, was not to be despised, though the condition of shutting my\r\neyes and hardening my heart was annexed to it.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I agreed to accompany him; and four years have I been attendant on many\r\nwretches, and”—she lowered her voice,—“the witness of many enormities. In\r\nsolitude my mind seemed to recover its force, and many of the sentiments which\r\nI imbibed in the only tolerable period of my life, returned with their full\r\nforce. Still what should induce me to be the champion for suffering\r\nhumanity?—Who ever risked any thing for me?—Who ever acknowledged me to be a\r\nfellow-creature?”—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria took her hand, and Jemima, more overcome by kindness than she had ever\r\nbeen by cruelty, hastened out of the room to conceal her emotions.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDarnford soon after heard his summons, and, taking leave of him, Maria promised\r\nto gratify his curiosity, with respect to herself, the first opportunity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0006\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 6\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nActive as love was in the heart of Maria, the story she had just heard made her\r\nthoughts take a wider range. The opening buds of hope closed, as if they had\r\nput forth too early, and the the happiest day of her life was overcast by the\r\nmost melancholy reflections. Thinking of Jemima’s peculiar fate and her own,\r\nshe was led to consider the oppressed state of women, and to lament that she\r\nhad given birth to a daughter. Sleep fled from her eyelids, while she dwelt on\r\nthe wretchedness of unprotected infancy, till sympathy with Jemima changed to\r\nagony, when it seemed probable that her own babe might even now be in the very\r\nstate she so forcibly described.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria thought, and thought again. Jemima’s humanity had rather been benumbed\r\nthan killed, by the keen frost she had to brave at her entrance into life; an\r\nappeal then to her feelings, on this tender point, surely would not be\r\nfruitless; and Maria began to anticipate the delight it would afford her to\r\ngain intelligence of her child. This project was now the only subject of\r\nreflection; and she watched impatiently for the dawn of day, with that\r\ndeterminate purpose which generally insures success.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAt the usual hour, Jemima brought her breakfast, and a tender note from\r\nDarnford. She ran her eye hastily over it, and her heart calmly hoarded up the\r\nrapture a fresh assurance of affection, affection such as she wished to\r\ninspire, gave her, without diverting her mind a moment from its design. While\r\nJemima waited to take away the breakfast, Maria alluded to the reflections,\r\nthat had haunted her during the night to the exclusion of sleep. She spoke with\r\nenergy of Jemima’s unmerited sufferings, and of the fate of a number of\r\ndeserted females, placed within the sweep of a whirlwind, from which it was\r\nnext to impossible to escape. Perceiving the effect her conversation produced\r\non the countenance of her guard, she grasped the arm of Jemima with that\r\nirresistible warmth which defies repulse, exclaiming—“With your heart, and such\r\ndreadful experience, can you lend your aid to deprive my babe of a mother’s\r\ntenderness, a mother’s care? In the name of God, assist me to snatch her from\r\ndestruction! Let me but give her an education—let me but prepare her body and\r\nmind to encounter the ills which await her sex, and I will teach her to\r\nconsider you as her second mother, and herself as the prop of your age. Yes,\r\nJemima, look at me—observe me closely, and read my very soul; you merit a\r\nbetter fate;” she held out her hand with a firm gesture of assurance; “and I\r\nwill procure it for you, as a testimony of my esteem, as well as of my\r\ngratitude.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima had not power to resist this persuasive torrent; and, owning that the\r\nhouse in which she was confined, was situated on the banks of the Thames, only\r\na few miles from London, and not on the sea-coast, as Darnford had supposed,\r\nshe promised to invent some excuse for her absence, and go herself to trace the\r\nsituation, and enquire concerning the health, of this abandoned daughter. Her\r\nmanner implied an intention to do something more, but she seemed unwilling to\r\nimpart her design; and Maria, glad to have obtained the main point, thought it\r\nbest to leave her to the workings of her own mind; convinced that she had the\r\npower of interesting her still more in favour of herself and child, by a simple\r\nrecital of facts.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn the evening, Jemima informed the impatient mother, that on the morrow she\r\nshould hasten to town before the family hour of rising, and received all the\r\ninformation necessary, as a clue to her search. The “Good night!” Maria uttered\r\nwas peculiarly solemn and affectionate. Glad expectation sparkled in her eye;\r\nand, for the first time since her detention, she pronounced the name of her\r\nchild with pleasureable fondness; and, with all the garrulity of a nurse,\r\ndescribed her first smile when she recognized her mother. Recollecting herself,\r\na still kinder “Adieu!” with a “God bless you!”—that seemed to include a\r\nmaternal benediction, dismissed Jemima.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe dreary solitude of the ensuing day, lengthened by impatiently dwelling on\r\nthe same idea, was intolerably wearisome. She listened for the sound of a\r\nparticular clock, which some directions of the wind allowed her to hear\r\ndistinctly. She marked the shadow gaining on the wall; and, twilight thickening\r\ninto darkness, her breath seemed oppressed while she anxiously counted\r\nnine.—The last sound was a stroke of despair on her heart; for she expected\r\nevery moment, without seeing Jemima, to have her light extinguished by the\r\nsavage female who supplied her place. She was even obliged to prepare for bed,\r\nrestless as she was, not to disoblige her new attendant. She had been cautioned\r\nnot to speak too freely to her; but the caution was needless, her countenance\r\nwould still more emphatically have made her shrink back. Such was the ferocity\r\nof manner, conspicuous in every word and gesture of this hag, that Maria was\r\nafraid to enquire, why Jemima, who had faithfully promised to see her before\r\nher door was shut for the night, came not?—and, when the key turned in the\r\nlock, to consign her to a night of suspence, she felt a degree of anguish which\r\nthe circumstances scarcely justified.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nContinually on the watch, the shutting of a door, or the sound of a foot-step,\r\nmade her start and tremble with apprehension, something like what she felt,\r\nwhen, at her entrance, dragged along the gallery, she began to doubt whether\r\nshe were not surrounded by demons?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nFatigued by an endless rotation of thought and wild alarms, she looked like a\r\nspectre, when Jemima entered in the morning; especially as her eyes darted out\r\nof her head, to read in Jemima’s countenance, almost as pallid, the\r\nintelligence she dared not trust her tongue to demand. Jemima put down the\r\ntea-things, and appeared very busy in arranging the table. Maria took up a cup\r\nwith trembling hand, then forcibly recovering her fortitude, and restraining\r\nthe convulsive movement which agitated the muscles of her mouth, she said,\r\n“Spare yourself the pain of preparing me for your information, I adjure you!—My\r\nchild is dead!” Jemima solemnly answered, “Yes;” with a look expressive of\r\ncompassion and angry emotions. “Leave me,” added Maria, making a fresh effort\r\nto govern her feelings, and hiding her face in her handkerchief, to conceal her\r\nanguish—“It is enough—I know that my babe is no more—I will hear the\r\nparticulars when I am”—calmer, she could not utter; and Jemima, without\r\nimportuning her by idle attempts to console her, left the room.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nPlunged in the deepest melancholy, she would not admit Darnford’s visits; and\r\nsuch is the force of early associations even on strong minds, that, for a\r\nwhile, she indulged the superstitious notion that she was justly punished by\r\nthe death of her child, for having for an instant ceased to regret her loss.\r\nTwo or three letters from Darnford, full of soothing, manly tenderness, only\r\nadded poignancy to these accusing emotions; yet the passionate style in which\r\nhe expressed, what he termed the first and fondest wish of his heart, “that his\r\naffection might make her some amends for the cruelty and injustice she had\r\nendured,” inspired a sentiment of gratitude to heaven; and her eyes filled with\r\ndelicious tears, when, at the conclusion of his letter, wishing to supply the\r\nplace of her unworthy relations, whose want of principle he execrated, he\r\nassured her, calling her his dearest girl, “that it should henceforth be the\r\nbusiness of his life to make her happy.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHe begged, in a note sent the following morning, to be permitted to see her,\r\nwhen his presence would be no intrusion on her grief, and so earnestly\r\nintreated to be allowed, according to promise, to beguile the tedious moments\r\nof absence, by dwelling on the events of her past life, that she sent him the\r\nmemoirs which had been written for her daughter, promising Jemima the perusal\r\nas soon as he returned them.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0007\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 7\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Addressing these memoirs to you, my child, uncertain whether I shall ever have\r\nan opportunity of instructing you, many observations will probably flow from my\r\nheart, which only a mother—a mother schooled in misery, could make.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The tenderness of a father who knew the world, might be great; but could it\r\nequal that of a mother—of a mother, labouring under a portion of the misery,\r\nwhich the constitution of society seems to have entailed on all her kind? It\r\nis, my child, my dearest daughter, only such a mother, who will dare to break\r\nthrough all restraint to provide for your happiness—who will voluntarily brave\r\ncensure herself, to ward off sorrow from your bosom. From my narrative, my dear\r\ngirl, you may gather the instruction, the counsel, which is meant rather to\r\nexercise than influence your mind.—Death may snatch me from you, before you can\r\nweigh my advice, or enter into my reasoning: I would then, with fond anxiety,\r\nlead you very early in life to form your grand principle of action, to save you\r\nfrom the vain regret of having, through irresolution, let the spring-tide of\r\nexistence pass away, unimproved, unenjoyed.—Gain experience—ah! gain it—while\r\nexperience is worth having, and acquire sufficient fortitude to pursue your own\r\nhappiness; it includes your utility, by a direct path. What is wisdom too\r\noften, but the owl of the goddess, who sits moping in a desolated heart; around\r\nme she shrieks, but I would invite all the gay warblers of spring to nestle in\r\nyour blooming bosom.—Had I not wasted years in deliberating, after I ceased to\r\ndoubt, how I ought to have acted—I might now be useful and happy.—For my sake,\r\nwarned by my example, always appear what you are, and you will not pass through\r\nexistence without enjoying its genuine blessings, love and respect.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Born in one of the most romantic parts of England, an enthusiastic fondness\r\nfor the varying charms of nature is the first sentiment I recollect; or rather\r\nit was the first consciousness of pleasure that employed and formed my\r\nimagination.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father had been a captain of a man of war; but, disgusted with the service,\r\non account of the preferment of men whose chief merit was their family\r\nconnections or borough interest, he retired into the country; and, not knowing\r\nwhat to do with himself—married. In his family, to regain his lost consequence,\r\nhe determined to keep up the same passive obedience, as in the vessels in which\r\nhe had commanded. His orders were not to be disputed; and the whole house was\r\nexpected to fly, at the word of command, as if to man the shrouds, or mount\r\naloft in an elemental strife, big with life or death. He was to be\r\ninstantaneously obeyed, especially by my mother, whom he very benevolently\r\nmarried for love; but took care to remind her of the obligation, when she\r\ndared, in the slightest instance, to question his absolute authority. My eldest\r\nbrother, it is true, as he grew up, was treated with more respect by my father;\r\nand became in due form the deputy-tyrant of the house. The representative of my\r\nfather, a being privileged by nature—a boy, and the darling of my mother, he\r\ndid not fail to act like an heir apparent. Such indeed was my mother’s\r\nextravagant partiality, that, in comparison with her affection for him, she\r\nmight be said not to love the rest of her children. Yet none of the children\r\nseemed to have so little affection for her. Extreme indulgence had rendered him\r\nso selfish, that he only thought of himself; and from tormenting insects and\r\nanimals, he became the despot of his brothers, and still more of his sisters.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“It is perhaps difficult to give you an idea of the petty cares which obscured\r\nthe morning of my life; continual restraint in the most trivial matters;\r\nunconditional submission to orders, which, as a mere child, I soon discovered\r\nto be unreasonable, because inconsistent and contradictory. Thus are we\r\ndestined to experience a mixture of bitterness, with the recollection of our\r\nmost innocent enjoyments.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The circumstances which, during my childhood, occurred to fashion my mind,\r\nwere various; yet, as it would probably afford me more pleasure to revive the\r\nfading remembrance of newborn delight, than you, my child, could feel in the\r\nperusal, I will not entice you to stray with me into the verdant meadow, to\r\nsearch for the flowers that youthful hopes scatter in every path; though, as I\r\nwrite, I almost scent the fresh green of spring—of that spring which never\r\nreturns!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had two sisters, and one brother, younger than myself, my brother Robert was\r\ntwo years older, and might truly be termed the idol of his parents, and the\r\ntorment of the rest of the family. Such indeed is the force of prejudice, that\r\nwhat was called spirit and wit in him, was cruelly repressed as forwardness in\r\nme.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My mother had an indolence of character, which prevented her from paying much\r\nattention to our education. But the healthy breeze of a neighbouring heath, on\r\nwhich we bounded at pleasure, volatilized the humours that improper food might\r\nhave generated. And to enjoy open air and freedom, was paradise, after the\r\nunnatural restraint of our fireside, where we were often obliged to sit three\r\nor four hours together, without daring to utter a word, when my father was out\r\nof humour, from want of employment, or of a variety of boisterous amusement. I\r\nhad however one advantage, an instructor, the brother of my father, who,\r\nintended for the church, had of course received a liberal education. But,\r\nbecoming attached to a young lady of great beauty and large fortune, and\r\nacquiring in the world some opinions not consonant with the profession for\r\nwhich he was designed, he accepted, with the most sanguine expectations of\r\nsuccess, the offer of a nobleman to accompany him to India, as his confidential\r\nsecretary.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A correspondence was regularly kept up with the object of his affection; and\r\nthe intricacies of business, peculiarly wearisome to a man of a romantic turn\r\nof mind, contributed, with a forced absence, to increase his attachment. Every\r\nother passion was lost in this master-one, and only served to swell the\r\ntorrent. Her relations, such were his waking dreams, who had despised him,\r\nwould court in their turn his alliance, and all the blandishments of taste\r\nwould grace the triumph of love.—While he basked in the warm sunshine of love,\r\nfriendship also promised to shed its dewy freshness; for a friend, whom he\r\nloved next to his mistress, was the confident, who forwarded the letters from\r\none to the other, to elude the observation of prying relations. A friend false\r\nin similar circumstances, is, my dearest girl, an old tale; yet, let not this\r\nexample, or the frigid caution of coldblooded moralists, make you endeavour to\r\nstifle hopes, which are the buds that naturally unfold themselves during the\r\nspring of life! Whilst your own heart is sincere, always expect to meet one\r\nglowing with the same sentiments; for to fly from pleasure, is not to avoid\r\npain!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My uncle realized, by good luck, rather than management, a handsome fortune;\r\nand returning on the wings of love, lost in the most enchanting reveries, to\r\nEngland, to share it with his mistress and his friend, he found them—united.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“There were some circumstances, not necessary for me to recite, which\r\naggravated the guilt of the friend beyond measure, and the deception, that had\r\nbeen carried on to the last moment, was so base, it produced the most violent\r\neffect on my uncle’s health and spirits. His native country, the world! lately\r\na garden of blooming sweets, blasted by treachery, seemed changed into a\r\nparched desert, the abode of hissing serpents. Disappointment rankled in his\r\nheart; and, brooding over his wrongs, he was attacked by a raging fever,\r\nfollowed by a derangement of mind, which only gave place to habitual\r\nmelancholy, as he recovered more strength of body.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Declaring an intention never to marry, his relations were ever clustering\r\nabout him, paying the grossest adulation to a man, who, disgusted with mankind,\r\nreceived them with scorn, or bitter sarcasms. Something in my countenance\r\npleased him, when I began to prattle. Since his return, he appeared dead to\r\naffection; but I soon, by showing him innocent fondness, became a favourite;\r\nand endeavouring to enlarge and strengthen my mind, I grew dear to him in\r\nproportion as I imbibed his sentiments. He had a forcible manner of speaking,\r\nrendered more so by a certain impressive wildness of look and gesture,\r\ncalculated to engage the attention of a young and ardent mind. It is not then\r\nsurprising that I quickly adopted his opinions in preference, and reverenced\r\nhim as one of a superior order of beings. He inculcated, with great warmth,\r\nself-respect, and a lofty consciousness of acting right, independent of the\r\ncensure or applause of the world; nay, he almost taught me to brave, and even\r\ndespise its censure, when convinced of the rectitude of my own intentions.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Endeavouring to prove to me that nothing which deserved the name of love or\r\nfriendship, existed in the world, he drew such animated pictures of his own\r\nfeelings, rendered permanent by disappointment, as imprinted the sentiments\r\nstrongly on my heart, and animated my imagination. These remarks are necessary\r\nto elucidate some peculiarities in my character, which by the world are\r\nindefinitely termed romantic.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My uncle’s increasing affection led him to visit me often. Still, unable to\r\nrest in any place, he did not remain long in the country to soften domestic\r\ntyranny; but he brought me books, for which I had a passion, and they conspired\r\nwith his conversation, to make me form an ideal picture of life. I shall pass\r\nover the tyranny of my father, much as I suffered from it; but it is necessary\r\nto notice, that it undermined my mother’s health; and that her temper,\r\ncontinually irritated by domestic bickering, became intolerably peevish.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My eldest brother was articled to a neighbouring attorney, the shrewdest, and,\r\nI may add, the most unprincipled man in that part of the country. As my brother\r\ngenerally came home every Saturday, to astonish my mother by exhibiting his\r\nattainments, he gradually assumed a right of directing the whole family, not\r\nexcepting my father. He seemed to take a peculiar pleasure in tormenting and\r\nhumbling me; and if I ever ventured to complain of this treatment to either my\r\nfather or mother, I was rudely rebuffed for presuming to judge of the conduct\r\nof my eldest brother.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“About this period a merchant’s family came to settle in our neighbourhood. A\r\nmansion-house in the village, lately purchased, had been preparing the whole\r\nspring, and the sight of the costly furniture, sent from London, had excited my\r\nmother’s envy, and roused my father’s pride. My sensations were very different,\r\nand all of a pleasurable kind. I longed to see new characters, to break the\r\ntedious monotony of my life; and to find a friend, such as fancy had\r\npourtrayed. I cannot then describe the emotion I felt, the Sunday they made\r\ntheir appearance at church. My eyes were rivetted on the pillar round which I\r\nexpected first to catch a glimpse of them, and darted forth to meet a servant\r\nwho hastily preceded a group of ladies, whose white robes and waving plumes,\r\nseemed to stream along the gloomy aisle, diffusing the light, by which I\r\ncontemplated their figures.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“We visited them in form; and I quickly selected the eldest daughter for my\r\nfriend. The second son, George, paid me particular attention, and finding his\r\nattainments and manners superior to those of the young men of the village, I\r\nbegan to imagine him superior to the rest of mankind. Had my home been more\r\ncomfortable, or my previous acquaintance more numerous, I should not probably\r\nhave been so eager to open my heart to new affections.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Mr. Venables, the merchant, had acquired a large fortune by unremitting\r\nattention to business; but his health declining rapidly, he was obliged to\r\nretire, before his son, George, had acquired sufficient experience, to enable\r\nhim to conduct their affairs on the same prudential plan, his father had\r\ninvariably pursued. Indeed, he had laboured to throw off his authority, having\r\ndespised his narrow plans and cautious speculation. The eldest son could not be\r\nprevailed on to enter the firm; and, to oblige his wife, and have peace in the\r\nhouse, Mr. Venables had purchased a commission for him in the guards.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I am now alluding to circumstances which came to my knowledge long after; but\r\nit is necessary, my dearest child, that you should know the character of your\r\nfather, to prevent your despising your mother; the only parent inclined to\r\ndischarge a parent’s duty. In London, George had acquired habits of\r\nlibertinism, which he carefully concealed from his father and his commercial\r\nconnections. The mask he wore, was so complete a covering of his real visage,\r\nthat the praise his father lavished on his conduct, and, poor mistaken man! on\r\nhis principles, contrasted with his brother’s, rendered the notice he took of\r\nme peculiarly flattering. Without any fixed design, as I am now convinced, he\r\ncontinued to single me out at the dance, press my hand at parting, and utter\r\nexpressions of unmeaning passion, to which I gave a meaning naturally suggested\r\nby the romantic turn of my thoughts. His stay in the country was short; his\r\nmanners did not entirely please me; but, when he left us, the colouring of my\r\npicture became more vivid—Whither did not my imagination lead me? In short, I\r\nfancied myself in love—in love with the disinterestedness, fortitude,\r\ngenerosity, dignity, and humanity, with which I had invested the hero I dubbed.\r\nA circumstance which soon after occurred, rendered all these virtues palpable.\r\n[The incident is perhaps worth relating on other accounts, and therefore I\r\nshall describe it distinctly.]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had a great affection for my nurse, old Mary, for whom I used often to work,\r\nto spare her eyes. Mary had a younger sister, married to a sailor, while she\r\nwas suckling me; for my mother only suckled my eldest brother, which might be\r\nthe cause of her extraordinary partiality. Peggy, Mary’s sister, lived with\r\nher, till her husband, becoming a mate in a West-Indian trader, got a little\r\nbefore-hand in the world. He wrote to his wife from the first port in the\r\nChannel, after his most successful voyage, to request her to come to London to\r\nmeet him; he even wished her to determine on living there for the future, to\r\nsave him the trouble of coming to her the moment he came on shore; and to turn\r\na penny by keeping a green-stall. It was too much to set out on a journey the\r\nmoment he had finished a voyage, and fifty miles by land, was worse than a\r\nthousand leagues by sea.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She packed up her alls, and came to London—but did not meet honest Daniel. A\r\ncommon misfortune prevented her, and the poor are bound to suffer for the good\r\nof their country—he was pressed in the river—and never came on shore.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Peggy was miserable in London, not knowing, as she said, ‘the face of any\r\nliving soul.’ Besides, her imagination had been employed, anticipating a month\r\nor six weeks’ happiness with her husband. Daniel was to have gone with her to\r\nSadler’s Wells, and Westminster Abbey, and to many sights, which he knew she\r\nnever heard of in the country. Peggy too was thrifty, and how could she manage\r\nto put his plan in execution alone? He had acquaintance; but she did not know\r\nthe very name of their places of abode. His letters were made up of—How do you\r\ndoes, and God bless yous,—information was reserved for the hour of meeting.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She too had her portion of information, near at heart. Molly and Jacky were\r\ngrown such little darlings, she was almost angry that daddy did not see their\r\ntricks. She had not half the pleasure she should have had from their prattle,\r\ncould she have recounted to him each night the pretty speeches of the day. Some\r\nstories, however, were stored up—and Jacky could say papa with such a sweet\r\nvoice, it must delight his heart. Yet when she came, and found no Daniel to\r\ngreet her, when Jacky called papa, she wept, bidding ‘God bless his innocent\r\nsoul, that did not know what sorrow was.’—But more sorrow was in store for\r\nPeggy, innocent as she was.—Daniel was killed in the first engagement, and then\r\nthe papa was agony, sounding to the heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She had lived sparingly on his wages, while there was any hope of his return;\r\nbut, that gone, she returned with a breaking heart to the country, to a little\r\nmarket town, nearly three miles from our village. She did not like to go to\r\nservice, to be snubbed about, after being her own mistress. To put her children\r\nout to nurse was impossible: how far would her wages go? and to send them to\r\nher husband’s parish, a distant one, was to lose her husband twice over.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had heard all from Mary, and made my uncle furnish a little cottage for her,\r\nto enable her to sell—so sacred was poor Daniel’s advice, now he was dead and\r\ngone a little fruit, toys and cakes. The minding of the shop did not require\r\nher whole time, nor even the keeping her children clean, and she loved to see\r\nthem clean; so she took in washing, and altogether made a shift to earn bread\r\nfor her children, still weeping for Daniel, when Jacky’s arch looks made her\r\nthink of his father.—It was pleasant to work for her children.—‘Yes; from\r\nmorning till night, could she have had a kiss from their father, God rest his\r\nsoul! Yes; had it pleased Providence to have let him come back without a leg or\r\nan arm, it would have been the same thing to her—for she did not love him\r\nbecause he maintained them—no; she had hands of her own.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The country people were honest, and Peggy left her linen out to dry very late.\r\nA recruiting party, as she supposed, passing through, made free with a large\r\nwash; for it was all swept away, including her own and her children’s little\r\nstock.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This was a dreadful blow; two dozen of shirts, stocks and handkerchiefs. She\r\ngave the money which she had laid by for half a year’s rent, and promised to\r\npay two shillings a week till all was cleared; so she did not lose her\r\nemployment. This two shillings a week, and the buying a few necessaries for the\r\nchildren, drove her so hard, that she had not a penny to pay her rent with,\r\nwhen a twelvemonth’s became due.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She was now with Mary, and had just told her tale, which Mary instantly\r\nrepeated—it was intended for my ear. Many houses in this town, producing a\r\nborough-interest, were included in the estate purchased by Mr. Venables, and\r\nthe attorney with whom my brother lived, was appointed his agent, to collect\r\nand raise the rents.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He demanded Peggy’s, and, in spite of her intreaties, her poor goods had been\r\nseized and sold. So that she had not, and what was worse her children, ‘for she\r\nhad known sorrow enough,’ a bed to lie on. She knew that I was\r\ngood-natured—right charitable, yet not liking to ask for more than needs must,\r\nshe scorned to petition while people could any how be made to wait. But now,\r\nshould she be turned out of doors, she must expect nothing less than to lose\r\nall her customers, and then she must beg or starve—and what would become of her\r\nchildren?—‘had Daniel not been pressed—but God knows best—all this could not\r\nhave happened.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had two mattresses on my bed; what did I want with two, when such a worthy\r\ncreature must lie on the ground? My mother would be angry, but I could conceal\r\nit till my uncle came down; and then I would tell him all the whole truth, and\r\nif he absolved me, heaven would.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I begged the house-maid to come up stairs with me (servants always feel for\r\nthe distresses of poverty, and so would the rich if they knew what it was). She\r\nassisted me to tie up the mattrass; I discovering, at the same time, that one\r\nblanket would serve me till winter, could I persuade my sister, who slept with\r\nme, to keep my secret. She entering in the midst of the package, I gave her\r\nsome new feathers, to silence her. We got the mattrass down the back stairs,\r\nunperceived, and I helped to carry it, taking with me all the money I had, and\r\nwhat I could borrow from my sister.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“When I got to the cottage, Peggy declared that she would not take what I had\r\nbrought secretly; but, when, with all the eager eloquence inspired by a decided\r\npurpose, I grasped her hand with weeping eyes, assuring her that my uncle would\r\nscreen me from blame, when he was once more in the country, describing, at the\r\nsame time, what she would suffer in parting with her children, after keeping\r\nthem so long from being thrown on the parish, she reluctantly consented.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My project of usefulness ended not here; I determined to speak to the\r\nattorney; he frequently paid me compliments. His character did not intimidate\r\nme; but, imagining that Peggy must be mistaken, and that no man could turn a\r\ndeaf ear to such a tale of complicated distress, I determined to walk to the\r\ntown with Mary the next morning, and request him to wait for the rent, and keep\r\nmy secret, till my uncle’s return.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My repose was sweet; and, waking with the first dawn of day, I bounded to\r\nMary’s cottage. What charms do not a light heart spread over nature! Every bird\r\nthat twittered in a bush, every flower that enlivened the hedge, seemed placed\r\nthere to awaken me to rapture—yes; to rapture. The present moment was full\r\nfraught with happiness; and on futurity I bestowed not a thought, excepting to\r\nanticipate my success with the attorney.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This man of the world, with rosy face and simpering features, received me\r\npolitely, nay kindly; listened with complacency to my remonstrances, though he\r\nscarcely heeded Mary’s tears. I did not then suspect, that my eloquence was in\r\nmy complexion, the blush of seventeen, or that, in a world where humanity to\r\nwomen is the characteristic of advancing civilization, the beauty of a young\r\ngirl was so much more interesting than the distress of an old one. Pressing my\r\nhand, he promised to let Peggy remain in the house as long as I wished.—I more\r\nthan returned the pressure—I was so grateful and so happy. Emboldened by my\r\ninnocent warmth, he then kissed me—and I did not draw back—I took it for a kiss\r\nof charity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Gay as a lark, I went to dine at Mr. Venables’. I had previously obtained five\r\nshillings from my father, towards re-clothing the poor children of my care, and\r\nprevailed on my mother to take one of the girls into the house, whom I\r\ndetermined to teach to work and read.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After dinner, when the younger part of the circle retired to the music room, I\r\nrecounted with energy my tale; that is, I mentioned Peggy’s distress, without\r\nhinting at the steps I had taken to relieve her. Miss Venables gave me\r\nhalf-a-crown; the heir five shillings; but George sat unmoved. I was cruelly\r\ndistressed by the disappointment—I scarcely could remain on my chair; and,\r\ncould I have got out of the room unperceived, I should have flown home, as if\r\nto run away from myself. After several vain attempts to rise, I leaned my head\r\nagainst the marble chimney-piece, and gazing on the evergreens that filled the\r\nfire-place, moralized on the vanity of human expectations; regardless of the\r\ncompany. I was roused by a gentle tap on my shoulder from behind Charlotte’s\r\nchair. I turned my head, and George slid a guinea into my hand, putting his\r\nfinger to his mouth, to enjoin me silence.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“What a revolution took place, not only in my train of thoughts, but feelings!\r\nI trembled with emotion—now, indeed, I was in love. Such delicacy too, to\r\nenhance his benevolence! I felt in my pocket every five minutes, only to feel\r\nthe guinea; and its magic touch invested my hero with more than mortal beauty.\r\nMy fancy had found a basis to erect its model of perfection on; and quickly\r\nwent to work, with all the happy credulity of youth, to consider that heart as\r\ndevoted to virtue, which had only obeyed a virtuous impulse. The bitter\r\nexperience was yet to come, that has taught me how very distinct are the\r\nprinciples of virtue, from the casual feelings from which they germinate.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0008\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 8\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I have perhaps dwelt too long on a circumstance, which is only of importance\r\nas it marks the progress of a deception that has been so fatal to my peace; and\r\nintroduces to your notice a poor girl, whom, intending to serve, I led to ruin.\r\nStill it is probable that I was not entirely the victim of mistake; and that\r\nyour father, gradually fashioned by the world, did not quickly become what I\r\nhesitate to call him—out of respect to my daughter.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But, to hasten to the more busy scenes of my life. Mr. Venables and my mother\r\ndied the same summer; and, wholly engrossed by my attention to her, I thought\r\nof little else. The neglect of her darling, my brother Robert, had a violent\r\neffect on her weakened mind; for, though boys may be reckoned the pillars of\r\nthe house without doors, girls are often the only comfort within. They but too\r\nfrequently waste their health and spirits attending a dying parent, who leaves\r\nthem in comparative poverty. After closing, with filial piety, a father’s eyes,\r\nthey are chased from the paternal roof, to make room for the first-born, the\r\nson, who is to carry the empty family-name down to posterity; though, occupied\r\nwith his own pleasures, he scarcely thought of discharging, in the decline of\r\nhis parent’s life, the debt contracted in his childhood. My mother’s conduct\r\nled me to make these reflections. Great as was the fatigue I endured, and the\r\naffection my unceasing solicitude evinced, of which my mother seemed perfectly\r\nsensible, still, when my brother, whom I could hardly persuade to remain a\r\nquarter of an hour in her chamber, was with her alone, a short time before her\r\ndeath, she gave him a little hoard, which she had been some years accumulating.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“During my mother’s illness, I was obliged to manage my father’s temper, who,\r\nfrom the lingering nature of her malady, began to imagine that it was merely\r\nfancy. At this period, an artful kind of upper servant attracted my father’s\r\nattention, and the neighbours made many remarks on the finery, not honestly\r\ngot, exhibited at evening service. But I was too much occupied with my mother\r\nto observe any change in her dress or behaviour, or to listen to the whisper of\r\nscandal.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I shall not dwell on the death-bed scene, lively as is the remembrance, or on\r\nthe emotion produced by the last grasp of my mother’s cold hand; when blessing\r\nme, she added, ‘A little patience, and all will be over!’ Ah! my child, how\r\noften have those words rung mournfully in my ears—and I have exclaimed—‘A\r\nlittle more patience, and I too shall be at rest!’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father was violently affected by her death, recollected instances of his\r\nunkindness, and wept like a child.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My mother had solemnly recommended my sisters to my care, and bid me be a\r\nmother to them. They, indeed, became more dear to me as they became more\r\nforlorn; for, during my mother’s illness, I discovered the ruined state of my\r\nfather’s circumstances, and that he had only been able to keep up appearances,\r\nby the sums which he borrowed of my uncle.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father’s grief, and consequent tenderness to his children, quickly abated,\r\nthe house grew still more gloomy or riotous; and my refuge from care was again\r\nat Mr. Venables’; the young ‘squire having taken his father’s place, and\r\nallowing, for the present, his sister to preside at his table. George, though\r\ndissatisfied with his portion of the fortune, which had till lately been all in\r\ntrade, visited the family as usual. He was now full of speculations in trade,\r\nand his brow became clouded by care. He seemed to relax in his attention to me,\r\nwhen the presence of my uncle gave a new turn to his behaviour. I was too\r\nunsuspecting, too disinterested, to trace these changes to their source.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My home every day became more and more disagreeable to me; my liberty was\r\nunnecessarily abridged, and my books, on the pretext that they made me idle,\r\ntaken from me. My father’s mistress was with child, and he, doating on her,\r\nallowed or overlooked her vulgar manner of tyrannizing over us. I was\r\nindignant, especially when I saw her endeavouring to attract, shall I say\r\nseduce? my younger brother. By allowing women but one way of rising in the\r\nworld, the fostering the libertinism of men, society makes monsters of them,\r\nand then their ignoble vices are brought forward as a proof of inferiority of\r\nintellect.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The wearisomeness of my situation can scarcely be described. Though my life\r\nhad not passed in the most even tenour with my mother, it was paradise to that\r\nI was destined to endure with my father’s mistress, jealous of her illegitimate\r\nauthority. My father’s former occasional tenderness, in spite of his violence\r\nof temper, had been soothing to me; but now he only met me with reproofs or\r\nportentous frowns. The house-keeper, as she was now termed, was the vulgar\r\ndespot of the family; and assuming the new character of a fine lady, she could\r\nnever forgive the contempt which was sometimes visible in my countenance, when\r\nshe uttered with pomposity her bad English, or affected to be well bred.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To my uncle I ventured to open my heart; and he, with his wonted benevolence,\r\nbegan to consider in what manner he could extricate me out of my present\r\nirksome situation. In spite of his own disappointment, or, most probably,\r\nactuated by the feelings that had been petrified, not cooled, in all their\r\nsanguine fervour, like a boiling torrent of lava suddenly dash ing into the\r\nsea, he thought a marriage of mutual inclination (would envious stars permit\r\nit) the only chance for happiness in this disastrous world. George Venables had\r\nthe reputation of being attentive to business, and my father’s example gave\r\ngreat weight to this circumstance; for habits of order in business would, he\r\nconceived, extend to the regulation of the affections in domestic life. George\r\nseldom spoke in my uncle’s company, except to utter a short, judicious\r\nquestion, or to make a pertinent remark, with all due deference to his superior\r\njudgment; so that my uncle seldom left his company without observing, that the\r\nyoung man had more in him than people supposed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“In this opinion he was not singular; yet, believe me, and I am not swayed by\r\nresentment, these speeches so justly poized, this silent deference, when the\r\nanimal spirits of other young people were throwing off youthful ebullitions,\r\nwere not the effect of thought or humility, but sheer barrenness of mind, and\r\nwant of imagination. A colt of mettle will curvet and shew his paces. Yes; my\r\ndear girl, these prudent young men want all the fire necessary to ferment their\r\nfaculties, and are characterized as wise, only because they are not foolish. It\r\nis true, that George was by no means so great a favourite of mine as during the\r\nfirst year of our acquaintance; still, as he often coincided in opinion with\r\nme, and echoed my sentiments; and having myself no other attachment, I heard\r\nwith pleasure my uncle’s proposal; but thought more of obtaining my freedom,\r\nthan of my lover. But, when George, seemingly anxious for my happiness, pressed\r\nme to quit my present painful situation, my heart swelled with gratitude—I knew\r\nnot that my uncle had promised him five thousand pounds.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Had this truly generous man mentioned his intention to me, I should have\r\ninsisted on a thousand pounds being settled on each of my sisters; George would\r\nhave contested; I should have seen his selfish soul; and—gracious God! have\r\nbeen spared the misery of discovering, when too late, that I was united to a\r\nheartless, unprincipled wretch. All my schemes of usefulness would not then\r\nhave been blasted. The tenderness of my heart would not have heated my\r\nimagination with visions of the ineffable delight of happy love; nor would the\r\nsweet duty of a mother have been so cruelly interrupted.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But I must not suffer the fortitude I have so hardly acquired, to be\r\nundermined by unavailing regret. Let me hasten forward to describe the turbid\r\nstream in which I had to wade—but let me exultingly declare that it is\r\npassed—my soul holds fellowship with him no more. He cut the Gordian knot,\r\nwhich my principles, mistaken ones, respected; he dissolved the tie, the\r\nfetters rather, that ate into my very vitals—and I should rejoice, conscious\r\nthat my mind is freed, though confined in hell itself, the only place that even\r\nfancy can imagine more dreadful than my present abode.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“These varying emotions will not allow me to proceed. I heave sigh after sigh;\r\nyet my heart is still oppressed. For what am I reserved? Why was I not born a\r\nman, or why was I born at all?”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0009\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 9\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I resume my pen to fly from thought. I was married; and we hastened to London.\r\nI had purposed taking one of my sisters with me; for a strong motive for\r\nmarrying, was the desire of having a home at which I could receive them, now\r\ntheir own grew so uncomfortable, as not to deserve the cheering appellation. An\r\nobjection was made to her accompanying me, that appeared plausible; and I\r\nreluctantly acquiesced. I was however willingly allowed to take with me Molly,\r\npoor Peggy’s daughter. London and preferment, are ideas commonly associated in\r\nthe country; and, as blooming as May, she bade adieu to Peggy with weeping\r\neyes. I did not even feel hurt at the refusal in relation to my sister, till\r\nhearing what my uncle had done for me, I had the simplicity to request,\r\nspeaking with warmth of their situation, that he would give them a thousand\r\npounds a-piece, which seemed to me but justice. He asked me, giving me a kiss,\r\n‘If I had lost my senses?’ I started back, as if I had found a wasp in a\r\nrose-bush. I expostulated. He sneered: and the demon of discord entered our\r\nparadise, to poison with his pestiferous breath every opening joy.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had sometimes observed defects in my husband’s understanding; but, led\r\nastray by a prevailing opinion, that goodness of disposition is of the first\r\nimportance in the relative situations of life, in proportion as I perceived the\r\nnarrowness of his understanding, fancy enlarged the boundary of his heart.\r\nFatal error! How quickly is the so much vaunted milkiness of nature turned into\r\ngall, by an intercourse with the world, if more generous juices do not sustain\r\nthe vital source of virtue!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“One trait in my character was extreme credulity; but, when my eyes were once\r\nopened, I saw but too clearly all I had before overlooked. My husband was sunk\r\nin my esteem; still there are youthful emotions, which, for a while, fill up\r\nthe chasm of love and friendship. Besides, it required some time to enable me\r\nto see his whole character in a just light, or rather to allow it to become\r\nfixed. While circumstances were ripening my faculties, and cultivating my\r\ntaste, commerce and gross relaxations were shutting his against any possibility\r\nof improvement, till, by stifling every spark of virtue in himself, he began to\r\nimagine that it no where existed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Do not let me lead you astray, my child, I do not mean to assert, that any\r\nhuman being is entirely incapable of feeling the generous emotions, which are\r\nthe foundation of every true principle of virtue; but they are frequently, I\r\nfear, so feeble, that, like the inflammable quality which more or less lurks in\r\nall bodies, they often lie for ever dormant; the circumstances never occurring,\r\nnecessary to call them into action.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I discovered however by chance, that, in consequence of some losses in trade,\r\nthe natural effect of his gambling desire to start suddenly into riches, the\r\nfive thousand pounds given me by my uncle, had been paid very opportunely. This\r\ndiscovery, strange as you may think the assertion, gave me pleasure; my\r\nhusband’s embarrassments endeared him to me. I was glad to find an excuse for\r\nhis conduct to my sisters, and my mind became calmer.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My uncle introduced me to some literary society; and the theatres were a\r\nnever-failing source of amusement to me. My delighted eye followed Mrs.\r\nSiddons, when, with dignified delicacy, she played Califta; and I involuntarily\r\nrepeated after her, in the same tone, and with a long-drawn sigh,\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n‘Hearts like our’s were pair’d—not match’d.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“These were, at first, spontaneous emotions, though, becoming acquainted with\r\nmen of wit and polished manners, I could not sometimes help regretting my early\r\nmarriage; and that, in my haste to escape from a temporary dependence, and\r\nexpand my newly fledged wings, in an unknown sky, I had been caught in a trap,\r\nand caged for life. Still the novelty of London, and the attentive fondness of\r\nmy husband, for he had some personal regard for me, made several months glide\r\naway. Yet, not forgetting the situation of my sisters, who were still very\r\nyoung, I prevailed on my uncle to settle a thousand pounds on each; and to\r\nplace them in a school near town, where I could frequently visit, as well as\r\nhave them at home with me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I now tried to improve my husband’s taste, but we had few subjects in common;\r\nindeed he soon appeared to have little relish for my society, unless he was\r\nhinting to me the use he could make of my uncle’s wealth. When we had company,\r\nI was disgusted by an ostentatious display of riches, and I have often quitted\r\nthe room, to avoid listening to exaggerated tales of money obtained by lucky\r\nhits.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“With all my attention and affectionate interest, I perceived that I could not\r\nbecome the friend or confident of my husband. Every thing I learned relative to\r\nhis affairs I gathered up by accident; and I vainly endeavoured to establish,\r\nat our fire-side, that social converse, which often renders people of different\r\ncharacters dear to each other. Returning from the theatre, or any amusing\r\nparty, I frequently began to relate what I had seen and highly relished; but\r\nwith sullen taciturnity he soon silenced me. I seemed therefore gradually to\r\nlose, in his society, the soul, the energies of which had just been in action.\r\nTo such a degree, in fact, did his cold, reserved manner affect me, that, after\r\nspending some days with him alone, I have imagined myself the most stupid\r\ncreature in the world, till the abilities of some casual visitor convinced me\r\nthat I had some dormant animation, and sentiments above the dust in which I had\r\nbeen groveling. The very countenance of my husband changed; his complexion\r\nbecame sallow, and all the charms of youth were vanishing with its vivacity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I give you one view of the subject; but these experiments and alterations took\r\nup the space of five years; during which period, I had most reluctantly\r\nextorted several sums from my uncle, to save my husband, to use his own words,\r\nfrom destruction. At first it was to prevent bills being noted, to the injury\r\nof his credit; then to bail him; and afterwards to prevent an execution from\r\nentering the house. I began at last to conclude, that he would have made more\r\nexertions of his own to extricate himself, had he not relied on mine, cruel as\r\nwas the task he imposed on me; and I firmly determined that I would make use of\r\nno more pretexts.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“From the moment I pronounced this determination, indifference on his part was\r\nchanged into rudeness, or something worse.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He now seldom dined at home, and continually returned at a late hour, drunk,\r\nto bed. I retired to another apartment; I was glad, I own, to escape from his;\r\nfor personal intimacy without affection, seemed, to me the most degrading, as\r\nwell as the most painful state in which a woman of any taste, not to speak of\r\nthe peculiar delicacy of fostered sensibility, could be placed. But my\r\nhusband’s fondness for women was of the grossest kind, and imagination was so\r\nwholly out of the question, as to render his indulgences of this sort entirely\r\npromiscuous, and of the most brutal nature. My health suffered, before my heart\r\nwas entirely estranged by the loathsome information; could I then have returned\r\nto his sullied arms, but as a victim to the prejudices of mankind, who have\r\nmade women the property of their husbands? I discovered even, by his\r\nconversation, when intoxicated that his favourites were wantons of the lowest\r\nclass, who could by their vulgar, indecent mirth, which he called nature, rouse\r\nhis sluggish spirits. Meretricious ornaments and manners were necessary to\r\nattract his attention. He seldom looked twice at a modest woman, and sat silent\r\nin their company; and the charms of youth and beauty had not the slightest\r\neffect on his senses, unless the possessors were initiated in vice. His\r\nintimacy with profligate women, and his habits of thinking, gave him a contempt\r\nfor female endowments; and he would repeat, when wine had loosed his tongue,\r\nmost of the common-place sarcasms levelled at them, by men who do not allow\r\nthem to have minds, because mind would be an impediment to gross enjoyment. Men\r\nwho are inferior to their fellow men, are always most anxious to establish\r\ntheir superiority over women. But where are these reflections leading me?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Women who have lost their husband’s affection, are justly reproved for\r\nneglecting their persons, and not taking the same pains to keep, as to gain a\r\nheart; but who thinks of giving the same advice to men, though women are\r\ncontinually stigmatized for being attached to fops; and from the nature of\r\ntheir education, are more susceptible of disgust? Yet why a woman should be\r\nexpected to endure a sloven, with more patience than a man, and magnanimously\r\nto govern herself, I cannot conceive; unless it be supposed arrogant in her to\r\nlook for respect as well as a maintenance. It is not easy to be pleased,\r\nbecause, after promising to love, in different circumstances, we are told that\r\nit is our duty. I cannot, I am sure (though, when attending the sick, I never\r\nfelt disgust) forget my own sensations, when rising with health and spirit, and\r\nafter scenting the sweet morning, I have met my husband at the breakfast table.\r\nThe active attention I had been giving to domestic regulations, which were\r\ngenerally settled before he rose, or a walk, gave a glow to my countenance,\r\nthat contrasted with his squallid appearance. The squeamishness of stomach\r\nalone, produced by the last night’s intemperance, which he took no pains to\r\nconceal, destroyed my appetite. I think I now see him lolling in an arm-chair,\r\nin a dirty powdering gown, soiled linen, ungartered stockings, and tangled\r\nhair, yawning and stretching himself. The newspaper was immediately called for,\r\nif not brought in on the tea-board, from which he would scarcely lift his eyes\r\nwhile I poured out the tea, excepting to ask for some brandy to put into it, or\r\nto declare that he could not eat. In answer to any question, in his best\r\nhumour, it was a drawling ‘What do you say, child?’ But if I demanded money for\r\nthe house expences, which I put off till the last moment, his customary reply,\r\noften prefaced with an oath, was, ‘Do you think me, madam, made of money?’—The\r\nbutcher, the baker, must wait; and, what was worse, I was often obliged to\r\nwitness his surly dismission of tradesmen, who were in want of their money, and\r\nwhom I sometimes paid with the presents my uncle gave me for my own use.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“At this juncture my father’s mistress, by terrifying his conscience, prevailed\r\non him to marry her; he was already become a methodist; and my brother, who now\r\npractised for himself, had discovered a flaw in the settlement made on my\r\nmother’s children, which set it aside, and he allowed my father, whose distress\r\nmade him submit to any thing, a tithe of his own, or rather our fortune.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My sisters had left school, but were unable to endure home, which my father’s\r\nwife rendered as disagreeable as possible, to get rid of girls whom she\r\nregarded as spies on her conduct. They were accomplished, yet you can (may you\r\nnever be reduced to the same destitute state!) scarcely conceive the trouble I\r\nhad to place them in the situation of governesses, the only one in which even a\r\nwell-educated woman, with more than ordinary talents, can struggle for a\r\nsubsistence; and even this is a dependence next to menial. Is it then\r\nsurprising, that so many forlorn women, with human passions and feelings, take\r\nrefuge in infamy? Alone in large mansions, I say alone, because they had no\r\ncompanions with whom they could converse on equal terms, or from whom they\r\ncould expect the endearments of affection, they grew melancholy, and the sound\r\nof joy made them sad; and the youngest, having a more delicate frame, fell into\r\na decline. It was with great difficulty that I, who now almost supported the\r\nhouse by loans from my uncle, could prevail on the \u003ci\u003emaster\u003c/i\u003e of it, to\r\nallow her a room to die in. I watched her sick bed for some months, and then\r\nclosed her eyes, gentle spirit! for ever. She was pretty, with very engaging\r\nmanners; yet had never an opportunity to marry, excepting to a very old man.\r\nShe had abilities sufficient to have shone in any profession, had there been\r\nany professions for women, though she shrunk at the name of milliner or\r\nmantua-maker as degrading to a gentlewoman. I would not term this feeling false\r\npride to any one but you, my child, whom I fondly hope to see (yes; I will\r\nindulge the hope for a moment!) possessed of that energy of character which\r\ngives dignity to any station; and with that clear, firm spirit that will enable\r\nyou to choose a situation for yourself, or submit to be classed in the lowest,\r\nif it be the only one in which you can be the mistress of your own actions.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Soon after the death of my sister, an incident occurred, to prove to me that\r\nthe heart of a libertine is dead to natural affection; and to convince me, that\r\nthe being who has appeared all tenderness, to gratify a selfish passion, is as\r\nregardless of the innocent fruit of it, as of the object, when the fit is over.\r\nI had casually observed an old, meanlooking woman, who called on my husband\r\nevery two or three months to receive some money. One day entering the passage\r\nof his little counting-house, as she was going out, I heard her say, ‘The child\r\nis very weak; she cannot live long, she will soon die out of your way, so you\r\nneed not grudge her a little physic.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘So much the better,’ he replied,’ and pray mind your own business, good\r\nwoman.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I was struck by his unfeeling, inhuman tone of voice, and drew back,\r\ndetermined when the woman came again, to try to speak to her, not out of\r\ncuriosity, I had heard enough, but with the hope of being useful to a poor,\r\noutcast girl.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A month or two elapsed before I saw this woman again; and then she had a child\r\nin her hand that tottered along, scarcely able to sustain her own weight. They\r\nwere going away, to return at the hour Mr. Venables was expected; he was now\r\nfrom home. I desired the woman to walk into the parlour. She hesitated, yet\r\nobeyed. I assured her that I should not mention to my husband (the word seemed\r\nto weigh on my respiration), that I had seen her, or his child. The woman\r\nstared at me with astonishment; and I turned my eyes on the squalid object\r\n[that accompanied her.] She could hardly support herself, her complexion was\r\nsallow, and her eyes inflamed, with an indescribable look of cunning, mixed\r\nwith the wrinkles produced by the peevishness of pain.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Poor child!’ I exclaimed. ‘Ah! you may well say poor child,’ replied the\r\nwoman. ‘I brought her here to see whether he would have the heart to look at\r\nher, and not get some advice. I do not know what they deserve who nursed her.\r\nWhy, her legs bent under her like a bow when she came to me, and she has never\r\nbeen well since; but, if they were no better paid than I am, it is not to be\r\nwondered at, sure enough.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“On further enquiry I was informed, that this miserable spectacle was the\r\ndaughter of a servant, a country girl, who caught Mr. Venables’ eye, and whom\r\nhe seduced. On his marriage he sent her away, her situation being too visible.\r\nAfter her delivery, she was thrown on the town; and died in an hospital within\r\nthe year. The babe was sent to a parish-nurse, and afterwards to this woman,\r\nwho did not seem much better; but what was to be expected from such a close\r\nbargain? She was only paid three shillings a week for board and washing.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The woman begged me to give her some old clothes for the child, assuring me,\r\nthat she was almost afraid to ask master for money to buy even a pair of shoes.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I grew sick at heart. And, fearing Mr. Venables might enter, and oblige me to\r\nexpress my abhorrence, I hastily enquired where she lived, promised to pay her\r\ntwo shillings a week more, and to call on her in a day or two; putting a trifle\r\ninto her hand as a proof of my good intention.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“If the state of this child affected me, what were my feelings at a discovery I\r\nmade respecting Peggy—?”\u003ca href=\"#fn7\" name=\"fnref7\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[7]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn7\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref7\"\u003e[7]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe manuscript is imperfect here. An episode seems to have been intended,\r\nwhich was never committed to paper. EDITOR. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0010\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 10\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My father’s situation was now so distressing, that I prevailed on my uncle to\r\naccompany me to visit him; and to lend me his assistance, to prevent the whole\r\nproperty of the family from becoming the prey of my brother’s rapacity; for, to\r\nextricate himself out of present difficulties, my father was totally regardless\r\nof futurity. I took down with me some presents for my step-mother; it did not\r\nrequire an effort for me to treat her with civility, or to forget the past.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This was the first time I had visited my native village, since my marriage.\r\nBut with what different emotions did I return from the busy world, with a heavy\r\nweight of experience benumbing my imagination, to scenes, that whispered\r\nrecollections of joy and hope most eloquently to my heart! The first scent of\r\nthe wild flowers from the heath, thrilled through my veins, awakening every\r\nsense to pleasure. The icy hand of despair seemed to be removed from my bosom;\r\nand—forgetting my husband—the nurtured visions of a romantic mind, bursting on\r\nme with all their original wildness and gay exuberance, were again hailed as\r\nsweet realities. I forgot, with equal facility, that I ever felt sorrow, or\r\nknew care in the country; while a transient rainbow stole athwart the cloudy\r\nsky of despondency. The picturesque form of several favourite trees, and the\r\nporches of rude cottages, with their smiling hedges, were recognized with the\r\ngladsome playfulness of childish vivacity. I could have kissed the chickens\r\nthat pecked on the common; and longed to pat the cows, and frolic with the dogs\r\nthat sported on it. I gazed with delight on the windmill, and thought it lucky\r\nthat it should be in motion, at the moment I passed by; and entering the dear\r\ngreen lane, which led directly to the village, the sound of the well-known\r\nrookery gave that sentimental tinge to the varying sensations of my active\r\nsoul, which only served to heighten the lustre of the luxuriant scenery. But,\r\nspying, as I advanced, the spire, peeping over the withered tops of the aged\r\nelms that composed the rookery, my thoughts flew immediately to the churchyard,\r\nand tears of affection, such was the effect of my imagination, bedewed my\r\nmother’s grave! Sorrow gave place to devotional feelings. I wandered through\r\nthe church in fancy, as I used sometimes to do on a Saturday evening. I\r\nrecollected with what fervour I addressed the God of my youth: and once more\r\nwith rapturous love looked above my sorrows to the Father of nature. I\r\npause—feeling forcibly all the emotions I am describing; and (reminded, as I\r\nregister my sorrows, of the sublime calm I have felt, when in some tremendous\r\nsolitude, my soul rested on itself, and seemed to fill the universe) I\r\ninsensibly breathe soft, hushing every wayward emotion, as if fearing to sully\r\nwith a sigh, a contentment so extatic.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Having settled my father’s affairs, and, by my exertions in his favour, made\r\nmy brother my sworn foe, I returned to London. My husband’s conduct was now\r\nchanged; I had during my absence, received several affectionate, penitential\r\nletters from him; and he seemed on my arrival, to wish by his behaviour to\r\nprove his sincerity. I could not then conceive why he acted thus; and, when the\r\nsuspicion darted into my head, that it might arise from observing my increasing\r\ninfluence with my uncle, I almost despised myself for imagining that such a\r\ndegree of debasing selfishness could exist.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He became, unaccountable as was the change, tender and attentive; and,\r\nattacking my weak side, made a confession of his follies, and lamented the\r\nembarrassments in which I, who merited a far different fate, might be involved.\r\nHe besought me to aid him with my counsel, praised my understanding, and\r\nappealed to the tenderness of my heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This conduct only inspired me with compassion. I wished to be his friend; but\r\nlove had spread his rosy pinions and fled far, far away; and had not (like some\r\nexquisite perfumes, the fine spirit of which is continually mingling with the\r\nair) left a fragrance behind, to mark where he had shook his wings. My\r\nhusband’s renewed caresses then became hateful to me; his brutality was\r\ntolerable, compared to his distasteful fondness. Still, compassion, and the\r\nfear of insulting his supposed feelings, by a want of sympathy, made me\r\ndissemble, and do violence to my delicacy. What a task!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Those who support a system of what I term false refinement, and will not allow\r\ngreat part of love in the female, as well as male breast, to spring in some\r\nrespects involuntarily, may not admit that charms are as necessary to feed the\r\npassion, as virtues to convert the mellowing spirit into friendship. To such\r\nobservers I have nothing to say, any more than to the moralists, who insist\r\nthat women ought to, and can love their husbands, because it is their duty. To\r\nyou, my child, I may add, with a heart tremblingly alive to your future\r\nconduct, some observations, dictated by my present feelings, on calmly\r\nreviewing this period of my life. When novelists or moralists praise as a\r\nvirtue, a woman’s coldness of constitution, and want of passion; and make her\r\nyield to the ardour of her lover out of sheer compassion, or to promote a\r\nfrigid plan of future comfort, I am disgusted. They may be good women, in the\r\nordinary acceptation of the phrase, and do no harm; but they appear to me not\r\nto have those ‘finely fashioned nerves,’ which render the senses exquisite.\r\nThey may possess tenderness; but they want that fire of the imagination, which\r\nproduces \u003ci\u003eactive\u003c/i\u003e sensibility, and \u003ci\u003epositive virtue\u003c/i\u003e. How does the\r\nwoman deserve to be characterized, who marries one man, with a heart and\r\nimagination devoted to another? Is she not an object of pity or contempt, when\r\nthus sacrilegiously violating the purity of her own feelings? Nay, it is as\r\nindelicate, when she is indifferent, unless she be constitutionally insensible;\r\nthen indeed it is a mere affair of barter; and I have nothing to do with the\r\nsecrets of trade. Yes; eagerly as I wish you to possess true rectitude of mind,\r\nand purity of affection, I must insist that a heartless conduct is the contrary\r\nof virtuous. Truth is the only basis of virtue; and we cannot, without\r\ndepraving our minds, endeavour to please a lover or husband, but in proportion\r\nas he pleases us. Men, more effectually to enslave us, may inculcate this\r\npartial morality, and lose sight of virtue in subdividing it into the duties of\r\nparticular stations; but let us not blush for nature without a cause!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After these remarks, I am ashamed to own, that I was pregnant. The greatest\r\nsacrifice of my principles in my whole life, was the allowing my husband again\r\nto be familiar with my person, though to this cruel act of self-denial, when I\r\nwished the earth to open and swallow me, you owe your birth; and I the\r\nunutterable pleasure of being a mother. There was something of delicacy in my\r\nhusband’s bridal attentions; but now his tainted breath, pimpled face, and\r\nblood-shot eyes, were not more repugnant to my senses, than his gross manners,\r\nand loveless familiarity to my taste.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A man would only be expected to maintain; yes, barely grant a subsistence, to\r\na woman rendered odious by habitual intoxication; but who would expect him, or\r\nthink it possible to love her? And unless ‘youth, and genial years were flown,’\r\nit would be thought equally unreasonable to insist, [under penalty of]\r\nforfeiting almost every thing reckoned valuable in life, that he should not\r\nlove another: whilst woman, weak in reason, impotent in will, is required to\r\nmoralize, sentimentalize herself to stone, and pine her life away, labouring to\r\nreform her embruted mate. He may even spend in dissipation, and intemperance,\r\nthe very intemperance which renders him so hateful, her property, and by\r\nstinting her expences, not permit her to beguile in society, a wearisome,\r\njoyless life; for over their mutual fortune she has no power, it must all pass\r\nthrough his hand. And if she be a mother, and in the present state of women, it\r\nis a great misfortune to be prevented from discharging the duties, and\r\ncultivating the affections of one, what has she not to endure?—But I have\r\nsuffered the tenderness of one to lead me into reflections that I did not think\r\nof making, to interrupt my narrative—yet the full heart will overflow.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Mr. Venables’ embarrassments did not now endear him to me; still, anxious to\r\nbefriend him, I endeavoured to prevail on him to retrench his expences; but he\r\nhad always some plausible excuse to give, to justify his not following my\r\nadvice. Humanity, compassion, and the interest produced by a habit of living\r\ntogether, made me try to relieve, and sympathize with him; but, when I\r\nrecollected that I was bound to live with such a being for ever—my heart died\r\nwithin me; my desire of improvement became languid, and baleful, corroding\r\nmelancholy took possession of my soul. Marriage had bastilled me for life. I\r\ndiscovered in myself a capacity for the enjoyment of the various pleasures\r\nexistence affords; yet, fettered by the partial laws of society, this fair\r\nglobe was to me an universal blank.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“When I exhorted my husband to economy, I referred to himself. I was obliged to\r\npractise the most rigid, or contract debts, which I had too much reason to fear\r\nwould never be paid. I despised this paltry privilege of a wife, which can only\r\nbe of use to the vicious or inconsiderate, and determined not to increase the\r\ntorrent that was bearing him down. I was then ignorant of the extent of his\r\nfraudulent speculations, whom I was bound to honour and obey.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A woman neglected by her husband, or whose manners form a striking contrast\r\nwith his, will always have men on the watch to soothe and flatter her. Besides,\r\nthe forlorn state of a neglected woman, not destitute of personal charms, is\r\nparticularly interesting, and rouses that species of pity, which is so near\r\nakin, it easily slides into love. A man of feeling thinks not of seducing, he\r\nis himself seduced by all the noblest emotions of his soul. He figures to\r\nhimself all the sacrifices a woman of sensibility must make, and every\r\nsituation in which his imagination places her, touches his heart, and fires his\r\npassions. Longing to take to his bosom the shorn lamb, and bid the drooping\r\nbuds of hope revive, benevolence changes into passion: and should he then\r\ndiscover that he is beloved, honour binds him fast, though foreseeing that he\r\nmay afterwards be obliged to pay severe damages to the man, who never appeared\r\nto value his wife’s society, till he found that there was a chance of his being\r\nindemnified for the loss of it.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Such are the partial laws enacted by men; for, only to lay a stress on the\r\ndependent state of a woman in the grand question of the comforts arising from\r\nthe possession of property, she is [even in this article] much more injured by\r\nthe loss of the husband’s affection, than he by that of his wife; yet where is\r\nshe, condemned to the solitude of a deserted home, to look for a compensation\r\nfrom the woman, who seduces him from her? She cannot drive an unfaithful\r\nhusband from his house, nor separate, or tear, his children from him, however\r\nculpable he may be; and he, still the master of his own fate, enjoys the smiles\r\nof a world, that would brand her with infamy, did she, seeking consolation,\r\nventure to retaliate.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“These remarks are not dictated by experience; but merely by the compassion I\r\nfeel for many amiable women, the \u003ci\u003eoutlaws\u003c/i\u003e of the world. For myself, never\r\nencouraging any of the advances that were made to me, my lovers dropped off\r\nlike the untimely shoots of spring. I did not even coquet with them; because I\r\nfound, on examining myself, I could not coquet with a man without loving him a\r\nlittle; and I perceived that I should not be able to stop at the line of what\r\nare termed \u003ci\u003einnocent freedoms\u003c/i\u003e, did I suffer any. My reserve was then the\r\nconsequence of delicacy. Freedom of conduct has emancipated many women’s minds;\r\nbut my conduct has most rigidly been governed by my principles, till the\r\nimprovement of my understanding has enabled me to discern the fallacy of\r\nprejudices at war with nature and reason.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Shortly after the change I have mentioned in my husband’s conduct, my uncle\r\nwas compelled by his declining health, to seek the succour of a milder climate,\r\nand embark for Lisbon. He left his will in the hands of a friend, an eminent\r\nsolicitor; he had previously questioned me relative to my situation and state\r\nof mind, and declared very freely, that he could place no reliance on the\r\nstability of my husband’s professions. He had been deceived in the unfolding of\r\nhis character; he now thought it fixed in a train of actions that would\r\ninevitably lead to ruin and disgrace.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The evening before his departure, which we spent alone together, he folded me\r\nto his heart, uttering the endearing appellation of ‘child.’—My more than\r\nfather! why was I not permitted to perform the last duties of one, and smooth\r\nthe pillow of death? He seemed by his manner to be convinced that he should\r\nnever see me more; yet requested me, most earnestly, to come to him, should I\r\nbe obliged to leave my husband. He had before expressed his sorrow at hearing\r\nof my pregnancy, having determined to prevail on me to accompany him, till I\r\ninformed him of that circumstance. He expressed himself unfeignedly sorry that\r\nany new tie should bind me to a man whom he thought so incapable of estimating\r\nmy value; such was the kind language of affection.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I must repeat his own words; they made an indelible impression on my mind:\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘The marriage state is certainly that in which women, generally speaking, can\r\nbe most useful; but I am far from thinking that a woman, once married, ought to\r\nconsider the engagement as indissoluble (especially if there be no children to\r\nreward her for sacrificing her feelings) in case her husband merits neither her\r\nlove, nor esteem. Esteem will often supply the place of love; and prevent a\r\nwoman from being wretched, though it may not make her happy. The magnitude of a\r\nsacrifice ought always to bear some proportion to the utility in view; and for\r\na woman to live with a man, for whom she can cherish neither affection nor\r\nesteem, or even be of any use to him, excepting in the light of a house-keeper,\r\nis an abjectness of condition, the enduring of which no concurrence of\r\ncircumstances can ever make a duty in the sight of God or just men. If indeed\r\nshe submits to it merely to be maintained in idleness, she has no right to\r\ncomplain bitterly of her fate; or to act, as a person of independent character\r\nmight, as if she had a title to disregard general rules.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But the misfortune is, that many women only submit in appearance, and forfeit\r\ntheir own respect to secure their reputation in the world. The situation of a\r\nwoman separated from her husband, is undoubtedly very different from that of a\r\nman who has left his wife. He, with lordly dignity, has shaken of a clog; and\r\nthe allowing her food and raiment, is thought sufficient to secure his\r\nreputation from taint. And, should she have been inconsiderate, he will be\r\ncelebrated for his generosity and forbearance. Such is the respect paid to the\r\nmaster-key of property! A woman, on the contrary, resigning what is termed her\r\nnatural protector (though he never was so, but in name) is despised and\r\nshunned, for asserting the independence of mind distinctive of a rational\r\nbeing, and spurning at slavery.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“During the remainder of the evening, my uncle’s tenderness led him frequently\r\nto revert to the subject, and utter, with increasing warmth, sentiments to the\r\nsame purport. At length it was necessary to say ‘Farewell!’—and we\r\nparted—gracious God! to meet no more.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0011\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 11\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A gentleman of large fortune and of polished manners, had lately visited very\r\nfrequently at our house, and treated me, if possible, with more respect than\r\nMr. Venables paid him; my pregnancy was not yet visible, his society was a\r\ngreat relief to me, as I had for some time past, to avoid expence, confined\r\nmyself very much at home. I ever disdained unnecessary, perhaps even prudent\r\nconcealments; and my husband, with great ease, discovered the amount of my\r\nuncle’s parting present. A copy of a writ was the stale pretext to extort it\r\nfrom me; and I had soon reason to believe that it was fabricated for the\r\npurpose. I acknowledge my folly in thus suffering myself to be continually\r\nimposed on. I had adhered to my resolution not to apply to my uncle, on the\r\npart of my husband, any more; yet, when I had received a sum sufficient to\r\nsupply my own wants, and to enable me to pursue a plan I had in view, to settle\r\nmy younger brother in a respectable employment, I allowed myself to be duped by\r\nMr. Venables’ shallow pretences, and hypocritical professions.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Thus did he pillage me and my family, thus frustrate all my plans of\r\nusefulness. Yet this was the man I was bound to respect and esteem: as if\r\nrespect and esteem depended on an arbitrary will of our own! But a wife being\r\nas much a man’s property as his horse, or his ass, she has nothing she can call\r\nher own. He may use any means to get at what the law considers as his, the\r\nmoment his wife is in possession of it, even to the forcing of a lock, as Mr.\r\nVenables did, to search for notes in my writing-desk—and all this is done with\r\na show of equity, because, forsooth, he is responsible for her maintenance.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The tender mother cannot \u003ci\u003elawfully\u003c/i\u003e snatch from the gripe of the gambling\r\nspendthrift, or beastly drunkard, unmindful of his offspring, the fortune which\r\nfalls to her by chance; or (so flagrant is the injustice) what she earns by her\r\nown exertions. No; he can rob her with impunity, even to waste publicly on a\r\ncourtezan; and the laws of her country—if women have a country—afford her no\r\nprotection or redress from the oppressor, unless she have the plea of bodily\r\nfear; yet how many ways are there of goading the soul almost to madness,\r\nequally unmanly, though not so mean? When such laws were framed, should not\r\nimpartial lawgivers have first decreed, in the style of a great assembly, who\r\nrecognized the existence of an \u003ci\u003eêtre suprême\u003c/i\u003e, to fix the national belief,\r\nthat the husband should always be wiser and more virtuous than his wife, in\r\norder to entitle him, with a show of justice, to keep this idiot, or perpetual\r\nminor, for ever in bondage. But I must have done—on this subject, my\r\nindignation continually runs away with me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The company of the gentleman I have already mentioned, who had a general\r\nacquaintance with literature and subjects of taste, was grateful to me; my\r\ncountenance brightened up as he approached, and I unaffectedly expressed the\r\npleasure I felt. The amusement his conversation afforded me, made it easy to\r\ncomply with my husband’s request, to endeavour to render our house agreeable to\r\nhim.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“His attentions became more pointed; but, as I was not of the number of women,\r\nwhose virtue, as it is termed, immediately takes alarm, I endeavoured, rather\r\nby raillery than serious expostulation, to give a different turn to his\r\nconversation. He assumed a new mode of attack, and I was, for a while, the dupe\r\nof his pretended friendship.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had, merely in the style of \u003ci\u003ebadinage\u003c/i\u003e, boasted of my conquest, and\r\nrepeated his lover-like compliments to my husband. But he begged me, for God’s\r\nsake, not to affront his friend, or I should destroy all his projects, and be\r\nhis ruin. Had I had more affection for my husband, I should have expressed my\r\ncontempt of this time-serving politeness: now I imagined that I only felt pity;\r\nyet it would have puzzled a casuist to point out in what the exact difference\r\nconsisted.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This friend began now, in confidence, to discover to me the real state of my\r\nhusband’s affairs. ‘Necessity,’ said Mr. S——; why should I reveal his name? for\r\nhe affected to palliate the conduct he could not excuse, ‘had led him to take\r\nsuch steps, by accommodation bills, buying goods on credit, to sell them for\r\nready money, and similar transactions, that his character in the commercial\r\nworld was gone. He was considered,’ he added, lowering his voice, ‘on ‘Change\r\nas a swindler.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I felt at that moment the first maternal pang. Aware of the evils my sex have\r\nto struggle with, I still wished, for my own consolation, to be the mother of a\r\ndaughter; and I could not bear to think, that the \u003ci\u003esins\u003c/i\u003e of her father’s\r\nentailed disgrace, should be added to the ills to which woman is heir.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“So completely was I deceived by these shows of friendship (nay, I believe,\r\naccording to his interpretation, Mr. S—— really was my friend) that I began to\r\nconsult him respecting the best mode of retrieving my husband’s character: it\r\nis the good name of a woman only that sets to rise no more. I knew not that he\r\nhad been drawn into a whirlpool, out of which he had not the energy to attempt\r\nto escape. He seemed indeed destitute of the power of employing his faculties\r\nin any regular pursuit. His principles of action were so loose, and his mind so\r\nuncultivated, that every thing like order appeared to him in the shape of\r\nrestraint; and, like men in the savage state, he required the strong stimulus\r\nof hope or fear, produced by wild speculations, in which the interests of\r\nothers went for nothing, to keep his spirits awake. He one time professed\r\npatriotism, but he knew not what it was to feel honest indignation; and\r\npretended to be an advocate for liberty, when, with as little affection for the\r\nhuman race as for individuals, he thought of nothing but his own gratification.\r\nHe was just such a citizen, as a father. The sums he adroitly obtained by a\r\nviolation of the laws of his country, as well as those of humanity, he would\r\nallow a mistress to squander; though she was, with the same \u003ci\u003esang froid\u003c/i\u003e,\r\nconsigned, as were his children, to poverty, when another proved more\r\nattractive.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“On various pretences, his friend continued to visit me; and, observing my want\r\nof money, he tried to induce me to accept of pecuniary aid; but this offer I\r\nabsolutely rejected, though it was made with such delicacy, I could not be\r\ndispleased.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“One day he came, as I thought accidentally, to dinner. My husband was very\r\nmuch engaged in business, and quitted the room soon after the cloth was\r\nremoved. We conversed as usual, till confidential advice led again to love. I\r\nwas extremely mortified. I had a sincere regard for him, and hoped that he had\r\nan equal friendship for me. I therefore began mildly to expostulate with him.\r\nThis gentleness he mistook for coy encouragement; and he would not be diverted\r\nfrom the subject. Perceiving his mistake, I seriously asked him how, using such\r\nlanguage to me, he could profess to be my husband’s friend? A significant sneer\r\nexcited my curiosity, and he, supposing this to be my only scruple, took a\r\nletter deliberately out of his pocket, saying, ‘Your husband’s honour is not\r\ninflexible. How could you, with your discernment, think it so? Why, he left the\r\nroom this very day on purpose to give me an opportunity to explain myself;\r\n\u003ci\u003ehe\u003c/i\u003e thought me too timid—too tardy.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I snatched the letter with indescribable emotion. The purport of it was to\r\ninvite him to dinner, and to ridicule his chivalrous respect for me. He assured\r\nhim, ‘that every woman had her price, and, with gross indecency, hinted, that\r\nhe should be glad to have the duty of a husband taken off his hands. These he\r\ntermed \u003ci\u003eliberal sentiments\u003c/i\u003e. He advised him not to shock my romantic\r\nnotions, but to attack my credulous generosity, and weak pity; and concluded\r\nwith requesting him to lend him five hundred pounds for a month or six weeks.’\r\nI read this letter twice over; and the firm purpose it inspired, calmed the\r\nrising tumult of my soul. I rose deliberately, requested Mr. S—— to wait a\r\nmoment, and instantly going into the counting-house, desired Mr. Venables to\r\nreturn with me to the dining-parlour.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He laid down his pen, and entered with me, without observing any change in my\r\ncountenance. I shut the door, and, giving him the letter, simply asked,\r\n‘whether he wrote it, or was it a forgery?’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Nothing could equal his confusion. His friend’s eye met his, and he muttered\r\nsomething about a joke—But I interrupted him—‘It is sufficient—We part for\r\never.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I continued, with solemnity, ‘I have borne with your tyranny and infidelities.\r\nI disdain to utter what I have borne with. I thought you unprincipled, but not\r\nso decidedly vicious. I formed a tie, in the sight of heaven—I have held it\r\nsacred; even when men, more conformable to my taste, have made me feel—I\r\ndespise all subterfuge!—that I was not dead to love. Neglected by you, I have\r\nresolutely stifled the enticing emotions, and respected the plighted faith you\r\noutraged. And you dare now to insult me, by selling me to\r\nprostitution!—Yes—equally lost to delicacy and principle—you dared\r\nsacrilegiously to barter the honour of the mother of your child.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Then, turning to Mr. S——, I added, ‘I call on you, Sir, to witness,’ and I\r\nlifted my hands and eyes to heaven, ‘that, as solemnly as I took his name, I\r\nnow abjure it,’ I pulled off my ring, and put it on the table; ‘and that I mean\r\nimmediately to quit his house, never to enter it more. I will provide for\r\nmyself and child. I leave him as free as I am determined to be myself—he shall\r\nbe answerable for no debts of mine.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Astonishment closed their lips, till Mr. Venables, gently pushing his friend,\r\nwith a forced smile, out of the room, nature for a moment prevailed, and,\r\nappearing like himself, he turned round, burning with rage, to me: but there\r\nwas no terror in the frown, excepting when contrasted with the malignant smile\r\nwhich preceded it. He bade me ‘leave the house at my peril; told me he despised\r\nmy threats; I had no resource; I could not swear the peace against him!—I was\r\nnot afraid of my life!—he had never struck me!’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He threw the letter in the fire, which I had incautiously left in his hands;\r\nand, quitting the room, locked the door on me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“When left alone, I was a moment or two before I could recollect myself—One\r\nscene had succeeded another with such rapidity, I almost doubted whether I was\r\nreflecting on a real event. ‘Was it possible? Was I, indeed, free?’—Yes; free I\r\ntermed myself, when I decidedly perceived the conduct I ought to adopt. How had\r\nI panted for liberty—liberty, that I would have purchased at any price, but\r\nthat of my own esteem! I rose, and shook myself; opened the window, and\r\nmethought the air never smelled so sweet. The face of heaven grew fairer as I\r\nviewed it, and the clouds seemed to flit away obedient to my wishes, to give my\r\nsoul room to expand. I was all soul, and (wild as it may appear) felt as if I\r\ncould have dissolved in the soft balmy gale that kissed my cheek, or have\r\nglided below the horizon on the glowing, descending beams. A seraphic\r\nsatisfaction animated, without agitating my spirits; and my imagination\r\ncollected, in visions sublimely terrible, or soothingly beautiful, an immense\r\nvariety of the endless images, which nature affords, and fancy combines, of the\r\ngrand and fair. The lustre of these bright picturesque sketches faded with the\r\nsetting sun; but I was still alive to the calm delight they had diffused\r\nthrough my heart.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“There may be advocates for matrimonial obedience, who, making a distinction\r\nbetween the duty of a wife and of a human being, may blame my conduct.—To them\r\nI write not—my feelings are not for them to analyze; and may you, my child,\r\nnever be able to ascertain, by heart-rending experience, what your mother felt\r\nbefore the present emancipation of her mind!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I began to write a letter to my father, after closing one to my uncle; not to\r\nask advice, but to signify my determination; when I was interrupted by the\r\nentrance of Mr. Venables. His manner was changed. His views on my uncle’s\r\nfortune made him averse to my quitting his house, or he would, I am convinced,\r\nhave been glad to have shaken off even the slight restraint my presence imposed\r\non him; the restraint of showing me some respect. So far from having an\r\naffection for me, he really hated me, because he was convinced that I must\r\ndespise him.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He told me, that ‘As I now had had time to cool and reflect, he did not doubt\r\nbut that my prudence, and nice sense of propriety, would lead me to overlook\r\nwhat was passed.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Reflection,’ I replied, ‘had only confirmed my purpose, and no power on earth\r\ncould divert me from it.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Endeavouring to assume a soothing voice and look, when he would willingly have\r\ntortured me, to force me to feel his power, his countenance had an infernal\r\nexpression, when he desired me, ‘Not to expose myself to the servants, by\r\nobliging him to confine me in my apartment; if then I would give my promise not\r\nto quit the house precipitately, I should be free—and—.’ I declared,\r\ninterrupting him, ‘that I would promise nothing. I had no measures to keep with\r\nhim—I was resolved, and would not condescend to subterfuge.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He muttered, ‘that I should soon repent of these preposterous airs;’ and,\r\nordering tea to be carried into my little study, which had a communication with\r\nmy bed-chamber, he once more locked the door upon me, and left me to my own\r\nmeditations. I had passively followed him up stairs, not wishing to fatigue\r\nmyself with unavailing exertion.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Nothing calms the mind like a fixed purpose. I felt as if I had heaved a\r\nthousand weight from my heart; the atmosphere seemed lightened; and, if I\r\nexecrated the institutions of society, which thus enable men to tyrannize over\r\nwomen, it was almost a disinterested sentiment. I disregarded present\r\ninconveniences, when my mind had done struggling with itself,—when reason and\r\ninclination had shaken hands and were at peace. I had no longer the cruel task\r\nbefore me, in endless perspective, aye, during the tedious for ever of life, of\r\nlabouring to overcome my repugnance—of labouring to extinguish the hopes, the\r\nmaybes of a lively imagination. Death I had hailed as my only chance for\r\ndeliverance; but, while existence had still so many charms, and life promised\r\nhappiness, I shrunk from the icy arms of an unknown tyrant, though far more\r\ninviting than those of the man, to whom I supposed myself bound without any\r\nother alternative; and was content to linger a little longer, waiting for I\r\nknew not what, rather than leave ‘the warm precincts of the cheerful day,’ and\r\nall the unenjoyed affection of my nature.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My present situation gave a new turn to my reflection; and I wondered (now the\r\nfilm seemed to be withdrawn, that obscured the piercing sight of reason) how I\r\ncould, previously to the deciding outrage, have considered myself as\r\neverlastingly united to vice and folly! ‘Had an evil genius cast a spell at my\r\nbirth; or a demon stalked out of chaos, to perplex my understanding, and\r\nenchain my will, with delusive prejudices?’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I pursued this train of thinking; it led me out of myself, to expatiate on the\r\nmisery peculiar to my sex. ‘Are not,’ I thought, ‘the despots for ever\r\nstigmatized, who, in the wantonness of power, commanded even the most atrocious\r\ncriminals to be chained to dead bodies? though surely those laws are much more\r\ninhuman, which forge adamantine fetters to bind minds together, that never can\r\nmingle in social communion! What indeed can equal the wretchedness of that\r\nstate, in which there is no alternative, but to extinguish the affections, or\r\nencounter infamy?’”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0012\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 12\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Towards midnight Mr. Venables entered my chamber; and, with calm audacity\r\npreparing to go to bed, he bade me make haste, ‘for that was the best place for\r\nhusbands and wives to end their differences. He had been drinking plentifully\r\nto aid his courage.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I did not at first deign to reply. But perceiving that he affected to take my\r\nsilence for consent, I told him that, ‘If he would not go to another bed, or\r\nallow me, I should sit up in my study all night.’ He attempted to pull me into\r\nthe chamber, half joking. But I resisted; and, as he had determined not to give\r\nme any reason for saying that he used violence, after a few more efforts, he\r\nretired, cursing my obstinacy, to bed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I sat musing some time longer; then, throwing my cloak around me, prepared for\r\nsleep on a sopha. And, so fortunate seemed my deliverance, so sacred the\r\npleasure of being thus wrapped up in myself, that I slept profoundly, and woke\r\nwith a mind composed to encounter the struggles of the day. Mr. Venables did\r\nnot wake till some hours after; and then he came to me half-dressed, yawning\r\nand stretching, with haggard eyes, as if he scarcely recollected what had\r\npassed the preceding evening. He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, then,\r\ncalling me a fool, asked ‘How long I intended to continue this pretty farce?\r\nFor his part, he was devilish sick of it; but this was the plague of marrying\r\nwomen who pretended to know something.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I made no other reply to this harangue, than to say, ‘That he ought to be glad\r\nto get rid of a woman so unfit to be his companion—and that any change in my\r\nconduct would be mean dissimulation; for maturer reflection only gave the\r\nsacred seal of reason to my first resolution.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He looked as if he could have stamped with impatience, at being obliged to\r\nstifle his rage; but, conquering his anger (for weak people, whose passions\r\nseem the most ungovernable, restrain them with the greatest ease, when they\r\nhave a sufficient motive), he exclaimed, ‘Very pretty, upon my soul! very\r\npretty, theatrical flourishes! Pray, fair Roxana, stoop from your altitudes,\r\nand remember that you are acting a part in real life.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He uttered this speech with a self-satisfied air, and went down stairs to\r\ndress.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“In about an hour he came to me again; and in the same tone said, ‘That he came\r\nas my gentleman-usher to hand me down to breakfast.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Of the black rod?’ asked I.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“This question, and the tone in which I asked it, a little disconcerted him. To\r\nsay the truth, I now felt no resentment; my firm resolution to free myself from\r\nmy ignoble thraldom, had absorbed the various emotions which, during six years,\r\nhad racked my soul. The duty pointed out by my principles seemed clear; and not\r\none tender feeling intruded to make me swerve: The dislike which my husband had\r\ninspired was strong; but it only led me to wish to avoid, to wish to let him\r\ndrop out of my memory; there was no misery, no torture that I would not\r\ndeliberately have chosen, rather than renew my lease of servitude.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“During the breakfast, he attempted to reason with me on the folly of romantic\r\nsentiments; for this was the indiscriminate epithet he gave to every mode of\r\nconduct or thinking superior to his own. He asserted, ‘that all the world were\r\ngoverned by their own interest; those who pretended to be actuated by different\r\nmotives, were only deeper knaves, or fools crazed by books, who took for gospel\r\nall the rodomantade nonsense written by men who knew nothing of the world. For\r\nhis part, he thanked God, he was no hypocrite; and, if he stretched a point\r\nsometimes, it was always with an intention of paying every man his own.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He then artfully insinuated, ‘that he daily expected a vessel to arrive, a\r\nsuccessful speculation, that would make him easy for the present, and that he\r\nhad several other schemes actually depending, that could not fail. He had no\r\ndoubt of becoming rich in a few years, though he had been thrown back by some\r\nunlucky adventures at the setting out.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I mildly replied, ‘That I wished he might not involve himself still deeper.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He had no notion that I was governed by a decision of judgment, not to be\r\ncompared with a mere spurt of resentment. He knew not what it was to feel\r\nindignation against vice, and often boasted of his placable temper, and\r\nreadiness to forgive injuries. True; for he only considered the being deceived,\r\nas an effort of skill he had not guarded against; and then, with a cant of\r\ncandour, would observe, ‘that he did not know how he might himself have been\r\ntempted to act in the same circumstances.’ And, as his heart never opened to\r\nfriendship, it never was wounded by disappointment. Every new acquaintance he\r\nprotested, it is true, was ‘the cleverest fellow in the world; and he really\r\nthought so; till the novelty of his conversation or manners ceased to have any\r\neffect on his sluggish spirits. His respect for rank or fortune was more\r\npermanent, though he chanced to have no design of availing himself of the\r\ninfluence of either to promote his own views.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After a prefatory conversation,—my blood (I thought it had been cooler)\r\nflushed over my whole countenance as he spoke—he alluded to my situation. He\r\ndesired me to reflect—‘and act like a prudent woman, as the best proof of my\r\nsuperior understanding; for he must own I had sense, did I know how to use it.\r\nI was not,’ he laid a stress on his words, ‘without my passions; and a husband\r\nwas a convenient cloke.—He was liberal in his way of thinking; and why might\r\nnot we, like many other married people, who were above vulgar prejudices,\r\ntacitly consent to let each other follow their own inclination?—He meant\r\nnothing more, in the letter I made the ground of complaint; and the pleasure\r\nwhich I seemed to take in Mr. S.‘s company, led him to conclude, that he was\r\nnot disagreeable to me.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A clerk brought in the letters of the day, and I, as I often did, while he was\r\ndiscussing subjects of business, went to the \u003ci\u003epiano forte\u003c/i\u003e, and began to\r\nplay a favourite air to restore myself, as it were, to nature, and drive the\r\nsophisticated sentiments I had just been obliged to listen to, out of my soul.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“They had excited sensations similar to those I have felt, in viewing the\r\nsqualid inhabitants of some of the lanes and back streets of the metropolis,\r\nmortified at being compelled to consider them as my fellow-creatures, as if an\r\nape had claimed kindred with me. Or, as when surrounded by a mephitical fog, I\r\nhave wished to have a volley of cannon fired, to clear the incumbered\r\natmosphere, and give me room to breathe and move.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My spirits were all in arms, and I played a kind of extemporary prelude. The\r\ncadence was probably wild and impassioned, while, lost in thought, I made the\r\nsounds a kind of echo to my train of thinking.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Pausing for a moment, I met Mr. Venables’ eyes. He was observing me with an\r\nair of conceited satisfaction, as much as to say—‘My last insinuation has done\r\nthe business—she begins to know her own interest.’ Then gathering up his\r\nletters, he said, ‘That he hoped he should hear no more romantic stuff, well\r\nenough in a miss just come from boarding school;’ and went, as was his custom,\r\nto the counting-house. I still continued playing; and, turning to a sprightly\r\nlesson, I executed it with uncommon vivacity. I heard footsteps approach the\r\ndoor, and was soon convinced that Mr. Venables was listening; the consciousness\r\nonly gave more animation to my fingers. He went down into the kitchen, and the\r\ncook, probably by his desire, came to me, to know what I would please to order\r\nfor dinner. Mr. Venables came into the parlour again, with apparent\r\ncarelessness. I perceived that the cunning man was overreaching himself; and I\r\ngave my directions as usual, and left the room.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“While I was making some alteration in my dress, Mr. Venables peeped in, and,\r\nbegging my pardon for interrupting me, disappeared. I took up some work (I\r\ncould not read), and two or three messages were sent to me, probably for no\r\nother purpose, but to enable Mr. Venables to ascertain what I was about.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I listened whenever I heard the street-door open; at last I imagined I could\r\ndistinguish Mr. Venables’ step, going out. I laid aside my work; my heart\r\npalpitated; still I was afraid hastily to enquire; and I waited a long half\r\nhour, before I ventured to ask the boy whether his master was in the\r\ncounting-house?\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Being answered in the negative, I bade him call me a coach, and collecting a\r\nfew necessaries hastily together, with a little parcel of letters and papers\r\nwhich I had collected the preceding evening, I hurried into it, desiring the\r\ncoachman to drive to a distant part of the town.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I almost feared that the coach would break down before I got out of the\r\nstreet; and, when I turned the corner, I seemed to breathe a freer air. I was\r\nready to imagine that I was rising above the thick atmosphere of earth; or I\r\nfelt, as wearied souls might be supposed to feel on entering another state of\r\nexistence.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I stopped at one or two stands of coaches to elude pursuit, and then drove\r\nround the skirts of the town to seek for an obscure lodging, where I wished to\r\nremain concealed, till I could avail myself of my uncle’s protection. I had\r\nresolved to assume my own name immediately, and openly to avow my\r\ndetermination, without any formal vindication, the moment I had found a home,\r\nin which I could rest free from the daily alarm of expecting to see Mr.\r\nVenables enter.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I looked at several lodgings; but finding that I could not, without a\r\nreference to some acquaintance, who might inform my tyrant, get admittance into\r\na decent apartment—men have not all this trouble—I thought of a woman whom I\r\nhad assisted to furnish a little haberdasher’s shop, and who I knew had a first\r\nfloor to let.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I went to her, and though I could not persuade her, that the quarrel between\r\nme and Mr. Venables would never be made up, still she agreed to conceal me for\r\nthe present; yet assuring me at the same time, shaking her head, that, when a\r\nwoman was once married, she must bear every thing. Her pale face, on which\r\nappeared a thousand haggard lines and delving wrinkles, produced by what is\r\nemphatically termed fretting, inforced her remark; and I had afterwards an\r\nopportunity of observing the treatment she had to endure, which grizzled her\r\ninto patience. She toiled from morning till night; yet her husband would rob\r\nthe till, and take away the money reserved for paying bills; and, returning\r\nhome drunk, he would beat her if she chanced to offend him, though she had a\r\nchild at the breast.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“These scenes awoke me at night; and, in the morning, I heard her, as usual,\r\ntalk to her dear Johnny—he, forsooth, was her master; no slave in the West\r\nIndies had one more despotic; but fortunately she was of the true Russian breed\r\nof wives.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My mind, during the few past days, seemed, as it were, disengaged from my\r\nbody; but, now the struggle was over, I felt very forcibly the effect which\r\nperturbation of spirits produces on a woman in my situation.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The apprehension of a miscarriage, obliged me to confine myself to my\r\napartment near a fortnight; but I wrote to my uncle’s friend for money,\r\npromising ‘to call on him, and explain my situation, when I was well enough to\r\ngo out; mean time I earnestly intreated him, not to mention my place of abode\r\nto any one, lest my husband—such the law considered him—should disturb the mind\r\nhe could not conquer. I mentioned my intention of setting out for Lisbon, to\r\nclaim my uncle’s protection, the moment my health would permit.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The tranquillity however, which I was recovering, was soon interrupted. My\r\nlandlady came up to me one day, with eyes swollen with weeping, unable to utter\r\nwhat she was commanded to say. She declared, ‘That she was never so miserable\r\nin her life; that she must appear an ungrateful monster; and that she would\r\nreadily go down on her knees to me, to intreat me to forgive her, as she had\r\ndone to her husband to spare her the cruel task.’ Sobs prevented her from\r\nproceeding, or answering my impatient enquiries, to know what she meant.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“When she became a little more composed, she took a newspaper out of her\r\npocket, declaring, ‘that her heart smote her, but what could she do?—she must\r\nobey her husband.’ I snatched the paper from her. An advertisement quickly met\r\nmy eye, purporting, that ‘Maria Venables had, without any assignable cause,\r\nabsconded from her husband; and any person harbouring her, was menaced with the\r\nutmost severity of the law.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Perfectly acquainted with Mr. Venables’ meanness of soul, this step did not\r\nexcite my surprise, and scarcely my contempt. Resentment in my breast, never\r\nsurvived love. I bade the poor woman, in a kind tone, wipe her eyes, and\r\nrequest her husband to come up, and speak to me himself.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My manner awed him. He respected a lady, though not a woman; and began to\r\nmutter out an apology.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Mr. Venables was a rich gentleman; he wished to oblige me, but he had\r\nsuffered enough by the law already, to tremble at the thought; besides, for\r\ncertain, we should come together again, and then even I should not thank him\r\nfor being accessary to keeping us asunder.—A husband and wife were, God knows,\r\njust as one,—and all would come round at last.’ He uttered a drawling ‘Hem!’\r\nand then with an arch look, added—‘Master might have had his little\r\nfrolics—but—Lord bless your heart!—men would be men while the world stands.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To argue with this privileged first-born of reason, I perceived, would be\r\nvain. I therefore only requested him to let me remain another day at his house,\r\nwhile I sought for a lodging; and not to inform Mr. Venables that I had ever\r\nbeen sheltered there.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He consented, because he had not the courage to refuse a person for whom he\r\nhad an habitual respect; but I heard the pent-up choler burst forth in curses,\r\nwhen he met his wife, who was waiting impatiently at the foot of the stairs, to\r\nknow what effect my expostulations would have on him.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Without wasting any time in the fruitless indulgence of vexation, I once more\r\nset out in search of an abode in which I could hide myself for a few weeks.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Agreeing to pay an exorbitant price, I hired an apartment, without any\r\nreference being required relative to my character: indeed, a glance at my shape\r\nseemed to say, that my motive for concealment was sufficiently obvious. Thus\r\nwas I obliged to shroud my head in infamy.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To avoid all danger of detection—I use the appropriate word, my child, for I\r\nwas hunted out like a felon—I determined to take possession of my new lodgings\r\nthat very evening.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I did not inform my landlady where I was going. I knew that she had a sincere\r\naffection for me, and would willingly have run any risk to show her gratitude;\r\nyet I was fully convinced, that a few kind words from Johnny would have found\r\nthe woman in her, and her dear benefactress, as she termed me in an agony of\r\ntears, would have been sacrificed, to recompense her tyrant for condescending\r\nto treat her like an equal. He could be kind-hearted, as she expressed it, when\r\nhe pleased. And this thawed sternness, contrasted with his habitual brutality,\r\nwas the more acceptable, and could not be purchased at too dear a rate.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The sight of the advertisement made me desirous of taking refuge with my\r\nuncle, let what would be the consequence; and I repaired in a hackney coach\r\n(afraid of meeting some person who might chance to know me, had I walked) to\r\nthe chambers of my uncle’s friend.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He received me with great politeness (my uncle had already prepossessed him in\r\nmy favour), and listened, with interest, to my explanation of the motives which\r\nhad induced me to fly from home, and skulk in obscurity, with all the timidity\r\nof fear that ought only to be the companion of guilt. He lamented, with rather\r\nmore gallantry than, in my situation, I thought delicate, that such a woman\r\nshould be thrown away on a man insensible to the charms of beauty or grace. He\r\nseemed at a loss what to advise me to do, to evade my husband’s search, without\r\nhastening to my uncle, whom, he hesitating said, I might not find alive. He\r\nuttered this intelligence with visible regret; requested me, at least, to wait\r\nfor the arrival of the next packet; offered me what money I wanted, and\r\npromised to visit me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He kept his word; still no letter arrived to put an end to my painful state of\r\nsuspense. I procured some books and music, to beguile the tedious solitary\r\ndays.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"poem\"\u003e\r\n‘Come, ever smiling Liberty,\u003cbr/\u003e\r\n‘And with thee bring thy jocund train:’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"noindent\"\u003e\r\nI sung—and sung till, saddened by the strain of joy, I bitterly lamented the\r\nfate that deprived me of all social pleasure. Comparative liberty indeed I had\r\npossessed myself of; but the jocund train lagged far behind!”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0013\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 13\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“By watching my only visitor, my uncle’s friend, or by some other means, Mr.\r\nVenables discovered my residence, and came to enquire for me. The maid-servant\r\nassured him there was no such person in the house. A bustle ensued—I caught the\r\nalarm—listened—distinguished his voice, and immediately locked the door. They\r\nsuddenly grew still; and I waited near a quarter of an hour, before I heard him\r\nopen the parlour door, and mount the stairs with the mistress of the house, who\r\nobsequiously declared that she knew nothing of me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Finding my door locked, she requested me to open it, and prepare to go home\r\nwith my husband, poor gentleman! to whom I had already occasioned sufficient\r\nvexation.’ I made no reply. Mr. Venables then, in an assumed tone of softness,\r\nintreated me, ‘to consider what he suffered, and my own reputation, and get the\r\nbetter of childish resentment.’ He ran on in the same strain, pretending to\r\naddress me, but evidently adapting his discourse to the capacity of the\r\nlandlady; who, at every pause, uttered an exclamation of pity; or ‘Yes, to be\r\nsure—Very true, sir.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Sick of the farce, and perceiving that I could not avoid the hated interview,\r\nI opened the door, and he entered. Advancing with easy assurance to take my\r\nhand, I shrunk from his touch, with an involuntary start, as I should have done\r\nfrom a noisome reptile, with more disgust than terror. His conductress was\r\nretiring, to give us, as she said, an opportunity to accommodate matters. But I\r\nbade her come in, or I would go out; and curiosity impelled her to obey me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Mr. Venables began to expostulate; and this woman, proud of his confidence, to\r\nsecond him. But I calmly silenced her, in the midst of a vulgar harangue, and\r\nturning to him, asked, ‘Why he vainly tormented me? declaring that no power on\r\nearth should force me back to his house.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After a long altercation, the particulars of which, it would be to no purpose\r\nto repeat, he left the room. Some time was spent in loud conversation in the\r\nparlour below, and I discovered that he had brought his friend, an attorney,\r\nwith him.\u003ca href=\"#fn8\" name=\"fnref8\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[8]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn8\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref8\"\u003e[8]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nIn the original edition the paragraph following is preceded by three lines of\r\nasterisks [Publisher’s note].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The tumult on the landing place, brought out a gentleman, who had recently\r\ntaken apartments in the house; he enquired why I was thus assailed?\u003ca\r\nhref=\"#fn9\" name=\"fnref9\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[9]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e The voluble attorney instantly\r\nrepeated the trite tale. The stranger turned to me, observing, with the most\r\nsoothing politeness and manly interest, that ‘my countenance told a very\r\ndifferent story.’ He added, ‘that I should not be insulted, or forced out of\r\nthe house, by any body.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn9\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref9\"\u003e[9]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe introduction of Darnford as the deliverer of Maria, in an early stage of\r\nthe history, is already stated (Chap. III.) to have been an after-thought of\r\nthe author. This has probably caused the imperfectness of the manuscript in the\r\nabove passage; though, at the same time, it must be acknowledged to be somewhat\r\nuncertain, whether Darnford is the stranger intended in this place. It appears\r\nfrom Chap. XVII, that an interference of a more decisive nature was designed to\r\nbe attributed to him. EDITOR. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Not by her husband?’ asked the attorney.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘No, sir, not by her husband.’ Mr. Venables advanced towards him—But there was\r\na decision in his attitude, that so well seconded that of his voice,\u003ca\r\nhref=\"#fn10\" name=\"fnref10\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[10]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e They left the house: at the\r\nsame time protesting, that any one that should dare to protect me, should be\r\nprosecuted with the utmost rigour.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn10\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref10\"\u003e[10]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nTwo and a half lines of asterisks appear here in the original [Publisher’s\r\nnote].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“They were scarcely out of the house, when my landlady came up to me again, and\r\nbegged my pardon, in a very different tone. For, though Mr. Venables had bid\r\nher, at her peril, harbour me, he had not attended, I found, to her broad\r\nhints, to discharge the lodging. I instantly promised to pay her, and make her\r\na present to compensate for my abrupt departure, if she would procure me\r\nanother lodging, at a sufficient distance; and she, in return, repeating Mr.\r\nVenables’ plausible tale, I raised her indignation, and excited her sympathy,\r\nby telling her briefly the truth.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She expressed her commiseration with such honest warmth, that I felt soothed;\r\nfor I have none of that fastidious sensitiveness, which a vulgar accent or\r\ngesture can alarm to the disregard of real kindness. I was ever glad to\r\nperceive in others the humane feelings I delighted to exercise; and the\r\nrecollection of some ridiculous characteristic circumstances, which have\r\noccurred in a moment of emotion, has convulsed me with laughter, though at the\r\ninstant I should have thought it sacrilegious to have smiled. Your improvement,\r\nmy dearest girl, being ever present to me while I write, I note these feelings,\r\nbecause women, more accustomed to observe manners than actions, are too much\r\nalive to ridicule. So much so, that their boasted sensibility is often stifled\r\nby false delicacy. True sensibility, the sensibility which is the auxiliary of\r\nvirtue, and the soul of genius, is in society so occupied with the feelings of\r\nothers, as scarcely to regard its own sensations. With what reverence have I\r\nlooked up at my uncle, the dear parent of my mind! when I have seen the sense\r\nof his own sufferings, of mind and body, absorbed in a desire to comfort those,\r\nwhose misfortunes were comparatively trivial. He would have been ashamed of\r\nbeing as indulgent to himself, as he was to others. ‘Genuine fortitude,’ he\r\nwould assert, ‘consisted in governing our own emotions, and making allowance\r\nfor the weaknesses in our friends, that we would not tolerate in ourselves.’\r\nBut where is my fond regret leading me!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Women must be submissive,’ said my landlady. ‘Indeed what could most women\r\ndo? Who had they to maintain them, but their husbands? Every woman, and\r\nespecially a lady, could not go through rough and smooth, as she had done, to\r\nearn a little bread.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She was in a talking mood, and proceeded to inform me how she had been used in\r\nthe world. ‘She knew what it was to have a bad husband, or she did not know who\r\nshould.’ I perceived that she would be very much mortified, were I not to\r\nattend to her tale, and I did not attempt to interrupt her, though I wished\r\nher, as soon as possible, to go out in search of a new abode for me, where I\r\ncould once more hide my head.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She began by telling me, ‘That she had saved a little money in service; and\r\nwas over-persuaded (we must all be in love once in our lives) to marry a likely\r\nman, a footman in the family, not worth a groat. My plan,’ she continued, ‘was\r\nto take a house, and let out lodgings; and all went on well, till my husband\r\ngot acquainted with an impudent slut, who chose to live on other people’s\r\nmeans—and then all went to rack and ruin. He ran in debt to buy her fine\r\nclothes, such clothes as I never thought of wearing myself, and—would you\r\nbelieve it?—he signed an execution on my very goods, bought with the money I\r\nworked so hard to get; and they came and took my bed from under me, before I\r\nheard a word of the matter. Aye, madam, these are misfortunes that you\r\ngentlefolks know nothing of,—but sorrow is sorrow, let it come which way it\r\nwill.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘I sought for a service again—very hard, after having a house of my own!—but\r\nhe used to follow me, and kick up such a riot when he was drunk, that I could\r\nnot keep a place; nay, he even stole my clothes, and pawned them; and when I\r\nwent to the pawnbroker’s, and offered to take my oath that they were not bought\r\nwith a farthing of his money, they said, ‘It was all as one, my husband had a\r\nright to whatever I had.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘At last he listed for a soldier, and I took a house, making an agreement to\r\npay for the furniture by degrees; and I almost starved myself, till I once more\r\ngot before-hand in the world.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘After an absence of six years (God forgive me! I thought he was dead) my\r\nhusband returned; found me out, and came with such a penitent face, I forgave\r\nhim, and clothed him from head to foot. But he had not been a week in the\r\nhouse, before some of his creditors arrested him; and, he selling my goods, I\r\nfound myself once more reduced to beggary; for I was not as well able to work,\r\ngo to bed late, and rise early, as when I quitted service; and then I thought\r\nit hard enough. He was soon tired of me, when there was nothing more to be had,\r\nand left me again.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I will not tell you how I was buffeted about, till, hearing for certain that\r\nhe had died in an hospital abroad, I once more returned to my old occupation;\r\nbut have not yet been able to get my head above water: so, madam, you must not\r\nbe angry if I am afraid to run any risk, when I know so well, that women have\r\nalways the worst of it, when law is to decide.’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After uttering a few more complaints, I prevailed on my landlady to go out in\r\nquest of a lodging; and, to be more secure, I condescended to the mean shift of\r\nchanging my name.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But why should I dwell on similar incidents!—I was hunted, like an infected\r\nbeast, from three different apartments, and should not have been allowed to\r\nrest in any, had not Mr. Venables, informed of my uncle’s dangerous state of\r\nhealth, been inspired with the fear of hurrying me out of the world as I\r\nadvanced in my pregnancy, by thus tormenting and obliging me to take sudden\r\njourneys to avoid him; and then his speculations on my uncle’s fortune must\r\nprove abortive.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“One day, when he had pursued me to an inn, I fainted, hurrying from him; and,\r\nfalling down, the sight of my blood alarmed him, and obtained a respite for me.\r\nIt is strange that he should have retained any hope, after observing my\r\nunwavering determination; but, from the mildness of my behaviour, when I found\r\nall my endeavours to change his disposition unavailing, he formed an erroneous\r\nopinion of my character, imagining that, were we once more together, I should\r\npart with the money he could not legally force from me, with the same facility\r\nas formerly. My forbearance and occasional sympathy he had mistaken for\r\nweakness of character; and, because he perceived that I disliked resistance, he\r\nthought my indulgence and compassion mere selfishness, and never discovered\r\nthat the fear of being unjust, or of unnecessarily wounding the feelings of\r\nanother, was much more painful to me, than any thing I could have to endure\r\nmyself. Perhaps it was pride which made me imagine, that I could bear what I\r\ndreaded to inflict; and that it was often easier to suffer, than to see the\r\nsufferings of others.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I forgot to mention that, during this persecution, I received a letter from my\r\nuncle, informing me, ‘that he only found relief from continual change of air;\r\nand that he intended to return when the spring was a little more advanced (it\r\nwas now the middle of February), and then we would plan a journey to Italy,\r\nleaving the fogs and cares of England far behind.’ He approved of my conduct,\r\npromised to adopt my child, and seemed to have no doubt of obliging Mr.\r\nVenables to hear reason. He wrote to his friend, by the same post, desiring him\r\nto call on Mr. Venables in his name; and, in consequence of the remonstrances\r\nhe dictated, I was permitted to lie-in tranquilly.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The two or three weeks previous, I had been allowed to rest in peace; but, so\r\naccustomed was I to pursuit and alarm, that I seldom closed my eyes without\r\nbeing haunted by Mr. Venables’ image, who seemed to assume terrific or hateful\r\nforms to torment me, wherever I turned.—Sometimes a wild cat, a roaring bull,\r\nor hideous assassin, whom I vainly attempted to fly; at others he was a demon,\r\nhurrying me to the brink of a precipice, plunging me into dark waves, or horrid\r\ngulfs; and I woke, in violent fits of trembling anxiety, to assure myself that\r\nit was all a dream, and to endeavour to lure my waking thoughts to wander to\r\nthe delightful Italian vales, I hoped soon to visit; or to picture some august\r\nruins, where I reclined in fancy on a mouldering column, and escaped, in the\r\ncontemplation of the heart-enlarging virtues of antiquity, from the turmoil of\r\ncares that had depressed all the daring purposes of my soul. But I was not long\r\nallowed to calm my mind by the exercise of my imagination; for the third day\r\nafter your birth, my child, I was surprised by a visit from my elder brother;\r\nwho came in the most abrupt manner, to inform me of the death of my uncle. He\r\nhad left the greater part of his fortune to my child, appointing me its\r\nguardian; in short, every step was taken to enable me to be mistress of his\r\nfortune, without putting any part of it in Mr. Venables’ power. My brother came\r\nto vent his rage on me, for having, as he expressed himself, ‘deprived him, my\r\nuncle’s eldest nephew, of his inheritance;’ though my uncle’s property, the\r\nfruit of his own exertion, being all in the funds, or on landed securities,\r\nthere was not a shadow of justice in the charge.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“As I sincerely loved my uncle, this intelligence brought on a fever, which I\r\nstruggled to conquer with all the energy of my mind; for, in my desolate state,\r\nI had it very much at heart to suckle you, my poor babe. You seemed my only tie\r\nto life, a cherub, to whom I wished to be a father, as well as a mother; and\r\nthe double duty appeared to me to produce a proportionate increase of\r\naffection. But the pleasure I felt, while sustaining you, snatched from the\r\nwreck of hope, was cruelly damped by melancholy reflections on my widowed\r\nstate—widowed by the death of my uncle. Of Mr. Venables I thought not, even\r\nwhen I thought of the felicity of loving your father, and how a mother’s\r\npleasure might be exalted, and her care softened by a husband’s\r\ntenderness.—‘Ought to be!’ I exclaimed; and I endeavoured to drive away the\r\ntenderness that suffocated me; but my spirits were weak, and the unbidden tears\r\nwould flow. ‘Why was I,’ I would ask thee, but thou didst not heed me,—‘cut off\r\nfrom the participation of the sweetest pleasure of life?’ I imagined with what\r\nextacy, after the pains of child-bed, I should have presented my little\r\nstranger, whom I had so long wished to view, to a respectable father, and with\r\nwhat maternal fondness I should have pressed them both to my heart!—Now I\r\nkissed her with less delight, though with the most endearing compassion, poor\r\nhelpless one! when I perceived a slight resemblance of him, to whom she owed\r\nher existence; or, if any gesture reminded me of him, even in his best days, my\r\nheart heaved, and I pressed the innocent to my bosom, as if to purify it—yes, I\r\nblushed to think that its purity had been sullied, by allowing such a man to be\r\nits father.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After my recovery, I began to think of taking a house in the country, or of\r\nmaking an excursion on the continent, to avoid Mr. Venables; and to open my\r\nheart to new pleasures and affection. The spring was melting into summer, and\r\nyou, my little companion, began to smile—that smile made hope bud out afresh,\r\nassuring me the world was not a desert. Your gestures were ever present to my\r\nfancy; and I dwelt on the joy I should feel when you would begin to walk and\r\nlisp. Watching your wakening mind, and shielding from every rude blast my\r\ntender blossom, I recovered my spirits—I dreamed not of the frost—‘the killing\r\nfrost,’ to which you were destined to be exposed.—But I lose all patience—and\r\nexecrate the injustice of the world—folly! ignorance!—I should rather call it;\r\nbut, shut up from a free circulation of thought, and always pondering on the\r\nsame griefs, I writhe under the torturing apprehensions, which ought to excite\r\nonly honest indignation, or active compassion; and would, could I view them as\r\nthe natural consequence of things. But, born a woman—and born to suffer, in\r\nendeavouring to repress my own emotions, I feel more acutely the various ills\r\nmy sex are fated to bear—I feel that the evils they are subject to endure,\r\ndegrade them so far below their oppressors, as almost to justify their tyranny;\r\nleading at the same time superficial reasoners to term that weakness the cause,\r\nwhich is only the consequence of short-sighted despotism.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0014\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 14\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“As my mind grew calmer, the visions of Italy again returned with their former\r\nglow of colouring; and I resolved on quitting the kingdom for a time, in search\r\nof the cheerfulness, that naturally results from a change of scene, unless we\r\ncarry the barbed arrow with us, and only see what we feel.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“During the period necessary to prepare for a long absence, I sent a supply to\r\npay my father’s debts, and settled my brothers in eligible situations; but my\r\nattention was not wholly engrossed by my family, though I do not think it\r\nnecessary to enumerate the common exertions of humanity. The manner in which my\r\nuncle’s property was settled, prevented me from making the addition to the\r\nfortune of my surviving sister, that I could have wished; but I had prevailed\r\non him to bequeath her two thousand pounds, and she determined to marry a\r\nlover, to whom she had been some time attached. Had it not been for this\r\nengagement, I should have invited her to accompany me in my tour; and I might\r\nhave escaped the pit, so artfully dug in my path, when I was the least aware of\r\ndanger.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I had thought of remaining in England, till I weaned my child; but this state\r\nof freedom was too peaceful to last, and I had soon reason to wish to hasten my\r\ndeparture. A friend of Mr. Venables, the same attorney who had accompanied him\r\nin several excursions to hunt me from my hiding places, waited on me to propose\r\na reconciliation. On my refusal, he indirectly advised me to make over to my\r\nhusband—for husband he would term him—the greater part of the property I had at\r\ncommand, menacing me with continual persecution unless I complied, and that, as\r\na last resort, he would claim the child. I did not, though intimidated by the\r\nlast insinuation, scruple to declare, that I would not allow him to squander\r\nthe money left to me for far different purposes, but offered him five hundred\r\npounds, if he would sign a bond not to torment me any more. My maternal anxiety\r\nmade me thus appear to waver from my first determination, and probably\r\nsuggested to him, or his diabolical agent, the infernal plot, which has\r\nsucceeded but too well.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The bond was executed; still I was impatient to leave England. Mischief hung\r\nin the air when we breathed the same; I wanted seas to divide us, and waters to\r\nroll between, till he had forgotten that I had the means of helping him through\r\na new scheme. Disturbed by the late occurrences, I instantly prepared for my\r\ndeparture. My only delay was waiting for a maid-servant, who spoke French\r\nfluently, and had been warmly recommended to me. A valet I was advised to hire,\r\nwhen I fixed on my place of residence for any time.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“My God, with what a light heart did I set out for Dover!—It was not my\r\ncountry, but my cares, that I was leaving behind. My heart seemed to bound with\r\nthe wheels, or rather appeared the centre on which they twirled. I clasped you\r\nto my bosom, exclaiming ‘And you will be safe—quite safe—when—we are once on\r\nboard the packet.—Would we were there!’ I smiled at my idle fears, as the\r\nnatural effect of continual alarm; and I scarcely owned to myself that I\r\ndreaded Mr. Venables’s cunning, or was conscious of the horrid delight he would\r\nfeel, at forming stratagem after stratagem to circumvent me. I was already in\r\nthe snare—I never reached the packet—I never saw thee more.—I grow breathless.\r\nI have scarcely patience to write down the details. The maid—the plausible\r\nwoman I had hired—put, doubtless, some stupefying potion in what I ate or\r\ndrank, the morning I left town. All I know is, that she must have quitted the\r\nchaise, shameless wretch! and taken (from my breast) my babe with her. How\r\ncould a creature in a female form see me caress thee, and steal thee from my\r\narms! I must stop, stop to repress a mother’s anguish; lest, in bitterness of\r\nsoul, I imprecate the wrath of heaven on this tiger, who tore my only comfort\r\nfrom me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“How long I slept I know not; certainly many hours, for I woke at the close of\r\nday, in a strange confusion of thought. I was probably roused to recollection\r\nby some one thundering at a huge, unwieldy gate. Attempting to ask where I was,\r\nmy voice died away, and I tried to raise it in vain, as I have done in a dream.\r\nI looked for my babe with affright; feared that it had fallen out of my lap,\r\nwhile I had so strangely forgotten her; and, such was the vague intoxication, I\r\ncan give it no other name, in which I was plunged, I could not recollect when\r\nor where I last saw you; but I sighed, as if my heart wanted room to clear my\r\nhead.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The gates opened heavily, and the sullen sound of many locks and bolts drawn\r\nback, grated on my very soul, before I was appalled by the creeking of the\r\ndismal hinges, as they closed after me. The gloomy pile was before me, half in\r\nruins; some of the aged trees of the avenue were cut down, and left to rot\r\nwhere they fell; and as we approached some mouldering steps, a monstrous dog\r\ndarted forwards to the length of his chain, and barked and growled infernally.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“The door was opened slowly, and a murderous visage peeped out, with a lantern.\r\n‘Hush!’ he uttered, in a threatning tone, and the affrighted animal stole back\r\nto his kennel. The door of the chaise flew back, the stranger put down the\r\nlantern, and clasped his dreadful arms around me. It was certainly the effect\r\nof the soporific draught, for, instead of exerting my strength, I sunk without\r\nmotion, though not without sense, on his shoulder, my limbs refusing to obey my\r\nwill. I was carried up the steps into a close-shut hall. A candle flaring in\r\nthe socket, scarcely dispersed the darkness, though it displayed to me the\r\nferocious countenance of the wretch who held me.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He mounted a wide staircase. Large figures painted on the walls seemed to\r\nstart on me, and glaring eyes to meet me at every turn. Entering a long\r\ngallery, a dismal shriek made me spring out of my conductor’s arms, with I know\r\nnot what mysterious emotion of terror; but I fell on the floor, unable to\r\nsustain myself.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A strange-looking female started out of one of the recesses, and observed me\r\nwith more curiosity than interest; till, sternly bid retire, she flitted back\r\nlike a shadow. Other faces, strongly marked, or distorted, peeped through the\r\nhalf-opened doors, and I heard some incoherent sounds. I had no distinct idea\r\nwhere I could be—I looked on all sides, and almost doubted whether I was alive\r\nor dead.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Thrown on a bed, I immediately sunk into insensibility again; and next day,\r\ngradually recovering the use of reason, I began, starting affrighted from the\r\nconviction, to discover where I was confined—I insisted on seeing the master of\r\nthe mansion—I saw him—and perceived that I was buried alive.—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Such, my child, are the events of thy mother’s life to this dreadful\r\nmoment—Should she ever escape from the fangs of her enemies, she will add the\r\nsecrets of her prison-house—and—”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSome lines were here crossed out, and the memoirs broke off abruptly with the\r\nnames of Jemima and Darnford.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2H_APPE\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nAPPENDIX\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch3\u003eADVERTISEMENT\u003ca href=\"#fn11\" name=\"fnref11\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[11]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe performance, with a fragment of which the reader has now been presented,\r\nwas designed to consist of three parts. The preceding sheets were considered as\r\nconstituting one of those parts. Those persons who in the perusal of the\r\nchapters, already written and in some degree finished by the author, have felt\r\ntheir hearts awakened, and their curiosity excited as to the sequel of the\r\nstory, will, of course, gladly accept even of the broken paragraphs and\r\nhalf-finished sentences, which have been found committed to paper, as materials\r\nfor the remainder. The fastidious and cold-hearted critic may perhaps feel\r\nhimself repelled by the incoherent form in which they are presented. But an\r\ninquisitive temper willingly accepts the most imperfect and mutilated\r\ninformation, where better is not to be had: and readers, who in any degree\r\nresemble the author in her quick apprehension of sentiment, and of the\r\npleasures and pains of imagination, will, I believe, find gratification, in\r\ncontemplating sketches, which were designed in a short time to have received\r\nthe finishing touches of her genius; but which must now for ever remain a mark\r\nto record the triumphs of mortality, over schemes of usefulness, and projects\r\nof public interest.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn11\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref11\"\u003e[11]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nPresumed to have been written by Godwin [Publisher’s note].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0015\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 15\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDarnford returned the memoirs to Maria, with a most affectionate letter, in\r\nwhich he reasoned on “the absurdity of the laws respecting matrimony, which,\r\ntill divorces could be more easily obtained, was,” he declared, “the most\r\ninsufferable bondage.” Ties of this nature could not bind minds governed by\r\nsuperior principles; and such beings were privileged to act above the dictates\r\nof laws they had no voice in framing, if they had sufficient strength of mind\r\nto endure the natural consequence. In her case, to talk of duty, was a farce,\r\nexcepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her\r\never to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her\r\ncharming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not\r\nabsolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to\r\nher reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.—The conviction was\r\nnot more transporting, than sacred—a thousand times a day, he asked himself how\r\nhe had merited such happiness?—and as often he determined to purify the heart\r\nshe deigned to inhabit—He intreated to be again admitted to her presence.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nHe was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed\r\nher to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief\r\nhad stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more\r\ntouching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little\r\npretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes—now it was all\r\nsoothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her\r\nnarrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.—His eyes,\r\nglowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to\r\nliberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint;\r\nand spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.—What could have\r\nbeen more flattering to Maria?—Every instance of self-denial was registered in\r\nher heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the\r\ntransports of passion.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThey met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his\r\ncheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nOne morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and\r\nspeak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him,\r\npretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having\r\nit returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed\r\nher of the death of her child, and hinted, “that she could not now have a\r\nlegitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during\r\nlife, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of\r\ntravelling.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria answered with warmth, “That she had no terms to make with the murderer of\r\nher babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her “Be silent—he\r\nhad not gone so far, not to go further.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDarnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as\r\nusual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.—The\r\nlovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential\r\ndiscourse. Darnford represented, “that they might soon be parted,” and wished\r\nher “to put it out of the power of fate to separate them.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nAs her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her\r\nprotector—and eternal friend.—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThere was one peculiarity in Maria’s mind: she was more anxious not to deceive,\r\nthan to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient\r\nreason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind\r\nhas, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the\r\ncontemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and\r\nmake a world of our own—and, though reality may sometimes open a door to\r\nmisery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without\r\na paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining\r\nthat she had found a being of celestial mould—was happy,—nor was she\r\ndeceived.—He was then plastic in her impassioned hand—and reflected all the\r\nsentiments which animated and warmed her.\u003ca href=\"#fn12\"\r\nname=\"fnref12\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[12]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn12\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref12\"\u003e[12]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nTwo and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher’s note].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0016\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 16\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nOne morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror,\r\nto inform Maria, “that her master had left it, with a determination, she was\r\nassured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt\r\nof its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then,” said Jemima, “to\r\naccompany you in your flight.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one\r\nshould fasten it on her for ever.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nJemima continued, “I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of\r\nyour promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“But Darnford!”—exclaimed Maria, mournfully—sitting down again, and crossing\r\nher arms—“I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master’s flight—his\r\nkeepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and\r\nthen he will be free—you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the\r\nmoment he is free.—In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on\r\nsome hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine,\r\nand we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these\r\narrangements, but lose no time!”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIn an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford.\r\nShe called him by the sacred name of “husband,” and bade him “hasten to her, to\r\nshare her fortune, or she would return to him.”—An hotel in the Adelphi was the\r\nplace of rendezvous.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet\r\nterrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an\r\nindistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went\r\nfirst.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed\r\nthe path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being\r\ndetained—“Who are you? what are you?” for the form was scarcely human. “If you\r\nare made of flesh and blood,” his ghastly eyes glared on her, “do not stop me!”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Woman,” interrupted a sepulchral voice, “what have I to do with thee?”—Still\r\nhe grasped her hand, muttering a curse.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“No, no; you have nothing to do with me,” she exclaimed, “this is a moment of\r\nlife and death!”—\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWith supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round\r\nJemima, cried, “Save me!” The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself,\r\ntook up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw\r\nit after them. They were out of his reach.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWhen Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she\r\ncould not sit still—her child was ever before her; and all that had passed\r\nduring her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the\r\nsuburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she\r\nentered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its\r\ngrave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out,\r\nin which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse’s child wore\r\n(Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for\r\nhalf-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the\r\nhackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle’s will, and explained to\r\nhim her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still\r\nremained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into\r\nconsideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet—She found\r\nthat several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her\r\nagent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been\r\nforged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend\r\n[the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at\r\nlength his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to\r\nleave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up\r\nthe notes. Maria inconsiderately consented—Darnford was arrived, and she wished\r\nto be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever\r\nshe thought of her child.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThey took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise;\r\nJemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the\r\ncustomary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nDarnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his\r\nconfinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom\r\nhe was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of\r\nDarnford’s arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the\r\nproperty, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold\r\nstroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and\r\n[as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object,\r\nthis ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private\r\nmad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last\r\ndiscovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nMaria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that\r\nmetropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were\r\ninformed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for\r\nseduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she\r\nrepented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford\r\ncould not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria\r\ntherefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain\r\nin London till the termination of this affair.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nShe visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was\r\nrefused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect\r\nher. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance,\r\nwho were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to\r\nconceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they\r\nbeen innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.—Had she remained\r\nwith her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an\r\nintrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of\r\nopenly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a\r\nthousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who\r\nwere not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and\r\ntreated like an honourable woman. “And Brutus\u003ca href=\"#fn13\"\r\nname=\"fnref13\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[13]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e is an honourable man!” said Mark-Antony with\r\nequal sincerity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn13\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref13\"\u003e[13]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nThe name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin’s\r\nnote]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nWith Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility\r\nin his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene;\r\nbesides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness\r\nfor the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who\r\nhave small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they\r\nare only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to\r\navail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by\r\nhis decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which\r\nhad taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of\r\nunattainable bliss.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds\r\npregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out\r\nwith wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an\r\nimagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and\r\ncivilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving\r\nthrough nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while\r\nthe reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens\r\nfull of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of\r\npleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this\r\nlife, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of\r\nfuturity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of\r\nbliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even\r\nits grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and\r\nlong to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though\r\nserpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles.\r\nMaria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues,\r\nin characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of\r\nelegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the\r\nmarshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social\r\npleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft\r\ntouches of humanity.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTo part with Darnford was indeed cruel.—It was to feel most painfully alone;\r\nbut she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of\r\nthe suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted,\r\nshe considered as leading to immorality—yet, as the odium of society impedes\r\nusefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife\r\naccording to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from\r\nvery different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the\r\nceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being\r\nsummoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead\r\nguilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation\r\nof women in society.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2HCH0017\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCHAPTER 17\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nSuch was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria\r\ntook the task of conducting Darnford’s defence upon herself. She instructed his\r\ncounsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of\r\nseduction.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, “that his client\r\nhad ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of\r\ntemper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But\r\nthat she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that\r\nshe was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring\r\nto bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and\r\ntook her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so\r\nstrange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which\r\ndelicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some\r\nmeans the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived\r\ntogether, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was\r\nallowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the\r\nseduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the\r\nhonour to state, could not be so clearly proved.—It was of the most atrocious\r\nkind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows\r\ninternal compunction, utterly disregarded.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true\r\nand false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria’s bosom. She only felt\r\nin earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society,\r\nand the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with\r\nacting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles.\r\n[She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent,\r\non this memorable occasion.]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nConvinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper,\r\nwhich she expressly desired might be read in court:\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet\r\nsubmitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I\r\ncould no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean\r\nnot to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or\r\npardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present\r\nmaintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our\r\nmarriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to\r\nthink and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society\r\ndemands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I\r\ncould excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate\r\nbabe:—and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband.\r\nWith proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes\r\nthe world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke\r\non the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as\r\nmothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the\r\ntyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are\r\nthe cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and\r\nmine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of\r\nthe most aggravated.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can\r\nestimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an\r\ninsult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr.\r\nVenables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and,\r\nwhen I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not\r\nonly allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money,\r\nto seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave\r\nhim, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as\r\nmade void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of\r\nprinciples, can never be healed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the\r\ndeath of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the\r\nsettlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to\r\nme, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we\r\nlived together.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal\r\nfrom place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no\r\nmaintenance—yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the\r\nproperty of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my\r\ndaughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to\r\nmyself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before\r\narriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated\r\nby the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what\r\nare the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be\r\nsubject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description,\r\nand may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all\r\nthe virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of\r\ninjuries.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I pardon my oppressor—bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me\r\nin the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare\r\nsupposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a\r\nseparation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned—yes; in a private\r\nmad-house.—There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing\r\nme. We became attached—I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of\r\nmy babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is\r\ntermed, lawful husband.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering\r\nmyself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the\r\nwill of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws\r\nto which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive]\r\npunishments.—While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering\r\nfor certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate\r\nher conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to\r\nmyself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr.\r\nVenables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging\r\nanother. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to\r\nbe shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?—I wish my country\r\nto approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the\r\nweak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live\r\nwith the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to\r\nman.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom\r\nI consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables’ roof;\r\nif ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I\r\nmust by that time have arrived at it.—I acted with deliberation.—Mr. Darnford\r\nfound me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in\r\nthe present state of society want.—But the man who now claims me—was he\r\ndeprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common\r\nsense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.—Mr. Venables’ door was indeed\r\nopen to me—nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but\r\nwhy? Was affection or honour the motive?—I cannot, it is true, dive into the\r\nrecesses of the human heart—yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a\r\nvariety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious\r\navarice.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation,\r\nthe fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of\r\nthe man with whom I had to contend.—I appeal to the justice and humanity of the\r\njury—a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that\r\nmust be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite\r\ncircumstances—and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing\r\nhim, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I\r\nhad, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr.\r\nVenables.—While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is\r\ntermed the fair fame of woman.—Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a\r\nlover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the\r\nexpence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to\r\nensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven,\r\nfree—and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to “the fallacy of letting women\r\nplead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For\r\nhis part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled\r\nnotions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want\r\nFrench principles in public or private life—and, if women were allowed to plead\r\ntheir feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a\r\nflood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?—It was\r\nher duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were\r\nqualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for\r\nherself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague,\r\nsupported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private\r\nmadhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a\r\nprudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a\r\nperson of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified,\r\nand might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of\r\nseparation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he\r\nhoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to\r\nenrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of\r\ndivorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they\r\nmight bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for\r\nthe good of the whole.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cdiv class=\"chapter\"\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003ca name=\"link2H_CONC\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\nCONCLUSION\u003c/h2\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003ch3\u003eBY THE EDITOR\u003ca href=\"#fn14\" name=\"fnref14\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[14]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\u003c/h3\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn14\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref14\"\u003e[14]\u003c/a\u003e\r\ni.e., Godwin [Publisher’s note].\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nVery few hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find\r\nonly two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of\r\nthe story. I transcribe the whole.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nI. “Darnford’s letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays,\r\nand the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for\r\nanswers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria’s mind.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nII. “As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying\r\nto return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or\r\nsuspicion.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nThe scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow.\u003ca\r\nhref=\"#fn15\" name=\"fnref15\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[15]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn15\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref15\"\u003e[15]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nTo understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of\r\nthem as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which\r\nit is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nI. “Trial for adultery—Maria defends herself—A separation from bed and board is\r\nthe consequence—Her fortune is thrown into chancery—Darnford obtains a part of\r\nhis property—Maria goes into the country.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nII. “A prosecution for adultery commenced—Trial—Darnford sets out for\r\nFrance—Letters—Once more pregnant—He returns—Mysterious\r\nbehaviour—Visit—Expectation—Discovery—Interview—Consequence.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIII. “Sued by her husband—Damages awarded to him—Separation from bed and\r\nboard—Darnford goes abroad—Maria into the country—Provides for her father—Is\r\nshunned—Returns to London—Expects to see her lover—The rack of\r\nexpectation—Finds herself again with child—Delighted—A discovery—A visit—A\r\nmiscarriage—Conclusion.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nIV. “Divorced by her husband—Her lover\r\nunfaithful—Pregnancy—Miscarriage—Suicide.”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n[The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding\r\nhints. It is superscribed] “THE END.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm—the tempest had subsided—and\r\nnothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself—to fly from the anguish\r\nshe endured to escape from thought—from this hell of disappointment.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Still her eyes closed not—one remembrance with frightful velocity followed\r\nanother—All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and\r\nprevent her sinking into the sleep of death.—Her murdered child again appeared\r\nto her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.—‘And could it have a\r\nnobler?—Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a\r\nmother’s care!—I cannot live!—but could I have deserted my child the moment it\r\nwas born?—thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support\r\nit?’—She looked up: ‘What have I not suffered!—may I find a father where I am\r\ngoing!—Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness—‘Have a little patience,’\r\nsaid Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), ‘this cannot\r\nlast long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter—leading a little\r\ncreature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of\r\nJemima sounding as at a distance, called her—she tried to listen, to speak, to\r\nlook!\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“‘Behold your child!’ exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and\r\nfainted.—Violent vomiting followed.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: ‘——\r\nled me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted\r\nthe child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a\r\nfatal moment) to search for the child!—I snatched her from misery—and (now she\r\nis alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have\r\nendured?’\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\n“Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when\r\nthe child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word\r\n‘Mamma!’ She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears—then,\r\nresting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,—she put her\r\nhand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She\r\nremained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and\r\nreclining her head,—then exclaimed: ‘The conflict is over!—I will live for my\r\nchild!’”\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nA few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could\r\nhave been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the\r\ninterest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of\r\npages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in\r\nreality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and\r\ndistress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with\r\nso great a number of events, as to suffer no one of them to sink into the\r\nreader’s mind. It is the province of true genius to develop events, to discover\r\ntheir capabilities, to ascertain the different passions and sentiments with\r\nwhich they are fraught, and to diversify them with incidents, that give reality\r\nto the picture, and take a hold upon the mind of a reader of taste, from which\r\nthey can never be loosened. It was particularly the design of the author, in\r\nthe present instance, to make her story subordinate to a great moral purpose,\r\nthat “of exhibiting the misery and oppression, peculiar to women, that arise\r\nout of the partial laws and customs of society.—This view restrained her\r\nfancy.”\u003ca href=\"#fn16\" name=\"fnref16\"\u003e\u003csup\u003e[16]\u003c/sup\u003e\u003c/a\u003e It was necessary for\r\nher, to place in a striking point of view, evils that are too frequently\r\noverlooked, and to drag into light those details of oppression, of which the\r\ngrosser and more insensible part of mankind make little account.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp class=\"footnote\"\u003e\r\n\u003ca name=\"fn16\"\u003e\u003c/a\u003e \u003ca href=\"#fnref16\"\u003e[16]\u003c/a\u003e\r\nSee author’s preface. [Godwin’s note]\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp\u003e\r\nTHE END.\r\n\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003c/div\u003e\u003c!–end chapter–\u003e\r\n\u003c/article\u003e"}],"SectionSequence":["Back Link","Work Title","Deck","Author","Period","Era","Composition","Date Note","Region","Terra Avita","Terra Avita Region","Modern Country","Original Title","Language","Primary Discipline","Secondary Discipline","Tradition","Full Versions","Core Thesis","Classification","Arguments","Influence","Significance","Evidence Note","Full Text"],"Counts":{"ContextCards":3,"GeoCards":4,"DisciplineCards":2,"Links":11,"Sections":25,"Styles":3,"Scripts":1}}