Maria; Or, The Wrongs of Woman
week in the house, before some of his creditors arrested him; and, he
selling my goods, I found myself once more reduced to beggary; for I
was not as well able to work, go to bed late, and rise early, as when I
quitted service; and then I thought it hard enough. He was soon tired
of me, when there was nothing more to be had, and left me again.
“I will not tell you how I was buffeted about, till, hearing for
certain that he had died in an hospital abroad, I once more returned to
my old occupation; but have not yet been able to get my head above
water: so, madam, you must not be angry if I am afraid to run any risk,
when I know so well, that women have always the worst of it, when law
is to decide.’
“After uttering a few more complaints, I prevailed on my landlady to go
out in quest of a lodging; and, to be more secure, I condescended to
the mean shift of changing my name.
“But why should I dwell on similar incidents!—I was hunted, like an
infected beast, from three different apartments, and should not have
been allowed to rest in any, had not Mr. Venables, informed of my
uncle’s dangerous state of health, been inspired with the fear of
hurrying me out of the world as I advanced in my pregnancy, by thus
tormenting and obliging me to take sudden journeys to avoid him; and
then his speculations on my uncle’s fortune must prove abortive.
“One day, when he had pursued me to an inn, I fainted, hurrying from
him; and, falling down, the sight of my blood alarmed him, and obtained
a respite for me. It is strange that he should have retained any hope,
after observing my unwavering determination; but, from the mildness of
my behaviour, when I found all my endeavours to change his disposition
unavailing, he formed an erroneous opinion of my character, imagining
that, were we once more together, I should part with the money he could
not legally force from me, with the same facility as formerly. My
forbearance and occasional sympathy he had mistaken for weakness of
character; and, because he perceived that I disliked resistance, he
thought my indulgence and compassion mere selfishness, and never
discovered that the fear of being unjust, or of unnecessarily wounding
the feelings of another, was much more painful to me, than any thing I
could have to endure myself. Perhaps it was pride which made me
imagine, that I could bear what I dreaded to inflict; and that it was
often easier to suffer, than to see the sufferings of others.
“I forgot to mention that, during this persecution, I received a letter
from my uncle, informing me, ‘that he only found relief from continual
change of air; and that he intended to return when the spring was a
little more advanced (it was now the middle of February), and then we
would plan a journey to Italy, leaving the fogs and cares of England
far behind.’ He approved of my conduct, promised to adopt my child, and
seemed to have no doubt of obliging Mr. Venables to hear reason. He
wrote to his friend, by the same post, desiring him to call on Mr.
Venables in his name; and, in consequence of the remonstrances he
dictated, I was permitted to lie-in tranquilly.
“The two or three weeks previous, I had been allowed to rest in peace;
but, so accustomed was I to pursuit and alarm, that I seldom closed my
eyes without being haunted by Mr. Venables’ image, who seemed to assume
terrific or hateful forms to torment me, wherever I turned.—Sometimes a
wild cat, a roaring bull, or hideous assassin, whom I vainly attempted
to fly; at others he was a demon, hurrying me to the brink of a
precipice, plunging me into dark waves, or horrid gulfs; and I woke, in
violent fits of trembling anxiety, to assure myself that it was all a
dream, and to endeavour to lure my waking thoughts to wander to the
delightful Italian vales, I hoped soon to visit; or to picture some
august ruins, where I reclined in fancy on a mouldering column, and
escaped, in the contemplation of the heart-enlarging virtues of
antiquity, from the turmoil of cares that had depressed all the daring
purposes of my soul. But I was not long allowed to calm my mind by the
exercise of my imagination; for the third day after your birth, my
child, I was surprised by a visit from my elder brother; who came in
the most abrupt manner, to inform me of the death of my uncle. He had
left the greater part of his fortune to my child, appointing me its
guardian; in short, every step was taken to enable me to be mistress of
his fortune, without putting any part of it in Mr. Venables’ power. My
brother came to vent his rage on me, for having, as he expressed
himself, ‘deprived him, my uncle’s eldest nephew, of his inheritance;’
though my uncle’s property, the fruit of his own exertion, being all in
the funds, or on landed securities, there was not a shadow of justice
in the charge.
“As I sincerely loved my uncle, this intelligence brought on a fever,
which I struggled to conquer with all the energy of my mind; for, in my
desolate state, I had it very much at heart to suckle you, my poor
babe. You seemed my only tie to life, a cherub, to whom I wished to be
a father, as well as a mother; and the double duty appeared to me to
produce a proportionate increase of affection. But the pleasure I felt,
while sustaining you, snatched from the wreck of hope, was cruelly
damped by melancholy reflections on my widowed state—widowed by the
death of my uncle. Of Mr. Venables I thought not, even when I thought
of the felicity of loving your father, and how a mother’s pleasure
might be exalted, and her care softened by a husband’s
tenderness.—‘Ought to be!’ I exclaimed; and I endeavoured to drive away
the tenderness that suffocated me; but my spirits were weak, and the
unbidden tears would flow. ‘Why was I,’ I would ask thee, but thou
didst not heed me,—‘cut off from the participation of the sweetest
pleasure of life?’ I imagined with what extacy, after the pains of
child-bed, I should have presented my little stranger, whom I had so
long wished to view, to a respectable father, and with what maternal
fondness I should have pressed them both to my heart!—Now I kissed her
with less delight, though with the most endearing compassion, poor
helpless one! when I perceived a slight resemblance of him, to whom she
owed her existence; or, if any gesture reminded me of him, even in his
best days, my heart heaved, and I pressed the innocent to my bosom, as
if to purify it—yes, I blushed to think that its purity had been
sullied, by allowing such a man to be its father.
“After my recovery, I began to think of taking a house in the country,
or of making an excursion on the continent, to avoid Mr. Venables; and
to open my heart to new pleasures and affection. The spring was melting
into summer, and you, my little companion, began to smile—that smile
made hope bud out afresh, assuring me the world was not a desert. Your
gestures were ever present to my fancy; and I dwelt on the joy I should
feel when you would begin to walk and lisp. Watching your wakening
mind, and shielding from every rude blast my tender blossom, I
recovered my spirits—I dreamed not of the frost—‘the killing frost,’ to
which you were destined to be exposed.—But I lose all patience—and
execrate the injustice of the world—folly! ignorance!—I should rather
call it; but, shut up from a free circulation of thought, and always
pondering on the same griefs, I writhe under the torturing
apprehensions, which ought to excite only honest indignation, or active
compassion; and would, could I view them as the natural consequence of
things. But, born a woman—and born to suffer, in endeavouring to
repress my own emotions, I feel more acutely the various ills my sex
are fated to bear—I feel that the evils they are subject to endure,
degrade them so far below their oppressors, as almost to justify their
tyranny; leading at the same time superficial reasoners to term that
weakness the cause, which is only the consequence of short-sighted
despotism.”
CHAPTER 14
“As my mind grew calmer, the visions of Italy again returned with their
former glow of colouring; and I resolved on quitting the kingdom for a
time, in search of the cheerfulness, that naturally results from a
change of scene, unless we carry the barbed arrow with us, and only see
what we feel.
“During the period necessary to prepare for a long absence, I sent a
supply to pay my father’s debts, and settled my brothers in eligible
situations; but my attention was not wholly engrossed by my family,
though I do not think it necessary to enumerate the common exertions of
humanity. The manner in which my uncle’s property was settled,
prevented me from making the addition to the fortune of my surviving
sister, that I could have wished; but I had prevailed on him to
bequeath her two thousand pounds, and she determined to marry a lover,
to whom she had been some time attached. Had it not been for this
engagement, I should have invited her to accompany me in my tour; and I
might have escaped the pit, so artfully dug in my path, when I was the
least aware of danger.
“I had thought of remaining in England, till I weaned my child; but
this state of freedom was too peaceful to last, and I had soon reason
to wish to hasten my departure. A friend of Mr. Venables, the same
attorney who had accompanied him in several excursions to hunt me from
my hiding places, waited on me to propose a reconciliation. On my
refusal, he indirectly advised me to make over to my husband—for
husband he would term him—the greater part of the property I had at
command, menacing me with continual persecution unless I complied, and
that, as a last resort, he would claim the child. I did not, though
intimidated by the last insinuation, scruple to declare, that I would
not allow him to squander the money left to me for far different
purposes, but offered him five hundred pounds, if he would sign a bond
not to torment me any more. My maternal anxiety made me thus appear to
waver from my first determination, and probably suggested to him, or
his diabolical agent, the infernal plot, which has succeeded but too
well.
“The bond was executed; still I was impatient to leave England.
Mischief hung in the air when we breathed the same; I wanted seas to
divide us, and waters to roll between, till he had forgotten that I had
the means of helping him through a new scheme. Disturbed by the late
occurrences, I instantly prepared for my departure. My only delay was
waiting for a maid-servant, who spoke French fluently, and had been
warmly recommended to me. A valet I was advised to hire, when I fixed
on my place of residence for any time.
“My God, with what a light heart did I set out for Dover!—It was not my
country, but my cares, that I was leaving behind. My heart seemed to
bound with the wheels, or rather appeared the centre on which they
twirled. I clasped you to my bosom, exclaiming ‘And you will be
safe—quite safe—when—we are once on board the packet.—Would we were
there!’ I smiled at my idle fears, as the natural effect of continual
alarm; and I scarcely owned to myself that I dreaded Mr. Venables’s
cunning, or was conscious of the horrid delight he would feel, at
forming stratagem after stratagem to circumvent me. I was already in
the snare—I never reached the packet—I never saw thee more.—I grow
breathless. I have scarcely patience to write down the details. The
maid—the plausible woman I had hired—put, doubtless, some stupefying
potion in what I ate or drank, the morning I left town. All I know is,
that she must have quitted the chaise, shameless wretch! and taken
(from my breast) my babe with her. How could a creature in a female
form see me caress thee, and steal thee from my arms! I must stop, stop
to repress a mother’s anguish; lest, in bitterness of soul, I imprecate