Maria; Or, The Wrongs of Woman
of reputation, of obtaining respect, or even the toleration of
humanity, I had not the least scruple to secrete a part of the sums
intrusted to me, and to screen myself from detection by a system of
falshood. But, acquiring new principles, I began to have the ambition
of returning to the respectable part of society, and was weak enough to
suppose it possible. The attention of my unassuming instructor, who,
without being ignorant of his own powers, possessed great simplicity of
manners, strengthened the illusion. Having sometimes caught up hints
for thought, from my untutored remarks, he often led me to discuss the
subjects he was treating, and would read to me his productions,
previous to their publication, wishing to profit by the criticism of
unsophisticated feeling. The aim of his writings was to touch the
simple springs of the heart; for he despised the would-be oracles, the
self-elected philosophers, who fright away fancy, while sifting each
grain of thought to prove that slowness of comprehension is wisdom.
“I should have distinguished this as a moment of sunshine, a happy
period in my life, had not the repugnance the disgusting libertinism of
my protector inspired, daily become more painful.—And, indeed, I soon
did recollect it as such with agony, when his sudden death (for he had
recourse to the most exhilarating cordials to keep up the convivial
tone of his spirits) again threw me into the desert of human society.
Had he had any time for reflection, I am certain he would have left the
little property in his power to me: but, attacked by the fatal apoplexy
in town, his heir, a man of rigid morals, brought his wife with him to
take possession of the house and effects, before I was even informed of
his death,—‘to prevent,’ as she took care indirectly to tell me, ‘such
a creature as she supposed me to be, from purloining any of them, had I
been apprized of the event in time.’
“The grief I felt at the sudden shock the information gave me, which at
first had nothing selfish in it, was treated with contempt, and I was
ordered to pack up my clothes; and a few trinkets and books, given me
by the generous deceased, were contested, while they piously hoped,
with a reprobating shake of the head, ‘that God would have mercy on his
sinful soul!’ With some difficulty, I obtained my arrears of wages; but
asking—such is the spirit-grinding consequence of poverty and
infamy—for a character for honesty and economy, which God knows I
merited, I was told by this—why must I call her woman?—‘that it would
go against her conscience to recommend a kept mistress.’ Tears started
in my eyes, burning tears; for there are situations in which a wretch
is humbled by the contempt they are conscious they do not deserve.
“I returned to the metropolis; but the solitude of a poor lodging was
inconceivably dreary, after the society I had enjoyed. To be cut off
from human converse, now I had been taught to relish it, was to wander
a ghost among the living. Besides, I foresaw, to aggravate the severity
of my fate, that my little pittance would soon melt away. I endeavoured
to obtain needlework; but, not having been taught early, and my hands
being rendered clumsy by hard work, I did not sufficiently excel to be
employed by the ready-made linen shops, when so many women, better
qualified, were suing for it. The want of a character prevented my
getting a place; for, irksome as servitude would have been to me, I
should have made another trial, had it been feasible. Not that I
disliked employment, but the inequality of condition to which I must
have submitted. I had acquired a taste for literature, during the five
years I had lived with a literary man, occasionally conversing with men
of the first abilities of the age; and now to descend to the lowest
vulgarity, was a degree of wretchedness not to be imagined unfelt. I
had not, it is true, tasted the charms of affection, but I had been
familiar with the graces of humanity.
“One of the gentlemen, whom I had frequently dined in company with,
while I was treated like a companion, met me in the street, and
enquired after my health. I seized the occasion, and began to describe
my situation; but he was in haste to join, at dinner, a select party of
choice spirits; therefore, without waiting to hear me, he impatiently
put a guinea into my hand, saying, ‘It was a pity such a sensible woman
should be in distress—he wished me well from his soul.’
“To another I wrote, stating my case, and requesting advice. He was an
advocate for unequivocal sincerity; and had often, in my presence,
descanted on the evils which arise in society from the despotism of
rank and riches.
“In reply, I received a long essay on the energy of the human mind,
with continual allusions to his own force of character. He added, ‘That
the woman who could write such a letter as I had sent him, could never
be in want of resources, were she to look into herself, and exert her
powers; misery was the consequence of indolence, and, as to my being
shut out from society, it was the lot of man to submit to certain
privations.’
“How often have I heard,” said Jemima, interrupting her narrative, “in
conversation, and read in books, that every person willing to work may
find employment? It is the vague assertion, I believe, of insensible
indolence, when it relates to men; but, with respect to women, I am
sure of its fallacy, unless they will submit to the most menial bodily
labour; and even to be employed at hard labour is out of the reach of
many, whose reputation misfortune or folly has tainted.
“How writers, professing to be friends to freedom, and the improvement
of morals, can assert that poverty is no evil, I cannot imagine.”
“No more can I,” interrupted Maria, “yet they even expatiate on the
peculiar happiness of indigence, though in what it can consist,
excepting in brutal rest, when a man can barely earn a subsistence, I
cannot imagine. The mind is necessarily imprisoned in its own little
tenement; and, fully occupied by keeping it in repair, has not time to
rove abroad for improvement. The book of knowledge is closely clasped,
against those who must fulfil their daily task of severe manual labour
or die; and curiosity, rarely excited by thought or information, seldom
moves on the stagnate lake of ignorance.”
“As far as I have been able to observe,” replied Jemima, “prejudices,
caught up by chance, are obstinately maintained by the poor, to the
exclusion of improvement; they have not time to reason or reflect to
any extent, or minds sufficiently exercised to adopt the principles of
action, which form perhaps the only basis of contentment in every
station.”[6]
[6] The copy which appears to have received the author’s last
corrections, ends at this place. [Godwin’s note]
“And independence,” said Darnford, “they are necessarily strangers to,
even the independence of despising their persecutors. If the poor are
happy, or can be happy, _things are very well as they are_. And I
cannot conceive on what principle those writers contend for a change of
system, who support this opinion. The authors on the other side of the
question are much more consistent, who grant the fact; yet, insisting
that it is the lot of the majority to be oppressed in this life, kindly
turn them over to another, to rectify the false weights and measures of
this, as the only way to justify the dispensations of Providence. I
have not,” continued Darnford, “an opinion more firmly fixed by
observation in my mind, than that, though riches may fail to produce
proportionate happiness, poverty most commonly excludes it, by shutting
up all the avenues to improvement.”
“And as for the affections,” added Maria, with a sigh, “how gross, and
even tormenting do they become, unless regulated by an improving mind!
The culture of the heart ever, I believe, keeps pace with that of the
mind. But pray go on,” addressing Jemima, “though your narrative gives
rise to the most painful reflections on the present state of society.”
“Not to trouble you,” continued she, “with a detailed description of
all the painful feelings of unavailing exertion, I have only to tell
you, that at last I got recommended to wash in a few families, who did
me the favour to admit me into their houses, without the most strict
enquiry, to wash from one in the morning till eight at night, for
eighteen or twenty-pence a day. On the happiness to be enjoyed over a
washing-tub I need not comment; yet you will allow me to observe, that
this was a wretchedness of situation peculiar to my sex. A man with
half my industry, and, I may say, abilities, could have procured a
decent livelihood, and discharged some of the duties which knit mankind
together; whilst I, who had acquired a taste for the rational, nay, in
honest pride let me assert it, the virtuous enjoyments of life, was
cast aside as the filth of society. Condemned to labour, like a
machine, only to earn bread, and scarcely that, I became melancholy and
desperate.
“I have now to mention a circumstance which fills me with remorse, and
fear it will entirely deprive me of your esteem. A tradesman became
attached to me, and visited me frequently,—and I at last obtained such
a power over him, that he offered to take me home to his
house.—Consider, dear madam, I was famishing: wonder not that I became
a wolf!—The only reason for not taking me home immediately, was the
having a girl in the house, with child by him—and this girl—I advised
him—yes, I did! would I could forget it!—to turn out of doors: and one
night he determined to follow my advice. Poor wretch! She fell upon her
knees, reminded him that he had promised to marry her, that her parents
were honest!—What did it avail?—She was turned out.
“She approached her father’s door, in the skirts of London,—listened at
the shutters,—but could not knock. A watchman had observed her go and
return several times—Poor wretch!—[The remorse Jemima spoke of, seemed
to be stinging her to the soul, as she proceeded.]
“She left it, and, approaching a tub where horses were watered, she sat
down in it, and, with desperate resolution, remained in that
attitude—till resolution was no longer necessary!
“I happened that morning to be going out to wash, anticipating the
moment when I should escape from such hard labour. I passed by, just as
some men, going to work, drew out the stiff, cold corpse—Let me not
recall the horrid moment!—I recognized her pale visage; I listened to
the tale told by the spectators, and my heart did not burst. I thought
of my own state, and wondered how I could be such a monster!—I worked
hard; and, returning home, I was attacked by a fever. I suffered both
in body and mind. I determined not to live with the wretch. But he did
not try me; he left the neighbourhood. I once more returned to the
wash-tub.
“Still this state, miserable as it was, admitted of aggravation.
Lifting one day a heavy load, a tub fell against my shin, and gave me
great pain. I did not pay much attention to the hurt, till it became a
serious wound; being obliged to work as usual, or starve. But, finding
myself at length unable to stand for any time, I thought of getting
into an hospital. Hospitals, it should seem (for they are comfortless
abodes for the sick) were expressly endowed for the reception of the
friendless; yet I, who had on that plea a right to assistance, wanted
the recommendation of the rich and respectable, and was several weeks
languishing for admittance; fees were demanded on entering; and, what
was still more unreasonable, security for burying me, that expence not
coming into the letter of the charity. A guinea was the stipulated
sum—I could as soon have raised a million; and I was afraid to apply to
the parish for an order, lest they should have passed me, I knew not