The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay
I suppose, that I am now writing with somebody in the room with me, and
---- is waiting to carry this to Mr. ----'s. I will then kiss the girl
for you, and bid you adieu.
I desired you, in one of my other letters, to bring back to me your
barrier-face--or that you should not be loved by my barrier-girl. I know
that you will love her more and more, for she is a little affectionate,
intelligent creature, with as much vivacity, I should think, as you could
wish for.
I was going to tell you of two or three things which displease me here;
but they are not of sufficient consequence to interrupt pleasing
sensations. I have received a letter from Mr. ----. I want you to bring
---- with you. Madame S---- is by me, reading a German translation of your
letters--she desires me to give her love to you, on account of what you
say of the negroes.
Yours most affectionately,
MARY.
LETTER XXV
_Paris, Sept. 28 [1794]._
I have written to you three or four letters; but different causes have
prevented my sending them by the persons who promised to take or forward
them. The inclosed is one I wrote to go by B----; yet, finding that he
will not arrive, before I hope, and believe, you will have set out on your
return, I inclose it to you, and shall give it in charge to ----, as Mr.
---- is detained, to whom I also gave a letter.
I cannot help being anxious to hear from you; but I shall not harrass you
with accounts of inquietudes, or of cares that arise from peculiar
circumstances.--I have had so many little plagues here, that I have almost
lamented that I left Havre. ----, who is at best a most helpless creature,
is now, on account of her pregnancy, more trouble than use to me, so that
I still continue to be almost a slave to the child.--She indeed rewards
me, for she is a sweet little creature; for, setting aside a mother's
fondness (which, by the bye, is growing on me, her little intelligent
smiles sinking into my heart), she has an astonishing degree of
sensibility and observation. The other day by B----'s child, a fine one,
she looked like a little sprite.--She is all life and motion, and her eyes
are not the eyes of a fool--I will swear.
I slept at St. Germain's, in the very room (if you have not forgot) in
which you pressed me very tenderly to your heart.--I did not forget to
fold my darling to mine, with sensations that are almost too sacred to be
alluded to.
Adieu, my love! Take care of yourself, if you wish to be the protector of
your child, and the comfort of her mother.
I have received, for you, letters from ----. I want to hear how that
affair finishes, though I do not know whether I have most contempt for his
folly or knavery.
Your own
MARY.
LETTER XXVI
_[Paris] October 1 [1794]._
It is a heartless task to write letters, without knowing whether they will
ever reach you.--I have given two to ----, who has been a-going, a-going,
every day, for a week past; and three others, which were written in a
low-spirited strain, a little querulous or so, I have not been able to
forward by the opportunities that were mentioned to me. _Tant mieux!_ you
will say, and I will not say nay; for I should be sorry that the contents
of a letter, when you are so far away, should damp the pleasure that the
sight of it would afford--judging of your feelings by my own. I just now
stumbled on one of the kind letters, which you wrote during your last
absence. You are then a dear affectionate creature, and I will not plague
you. The letter which you chance to receive, when the absence is so long,
ought to bring only tears of tenderness, without any bitter alloy, into
your eyes.
After your return I hope indeed, that you will not be so immersed in
business, as during the last three or four months past--for even money,
taking into the account all the future comforts it is to procure, may be
gained at too dear a rate, if painful impressions are left on the
mind.--These impressions were much more lively, soon after you went away,
than at present--for a thousand tender recollections efface the melancholy
traces they left on my mind--and every emotion is on the same side as my
reason, which always was on yours.--Separated, it would be almost impious
to dwell on real or imaginary imperfections of character.--I feel that I
love you; and, if I cannot be happy with you, I will seek it no where
else.
My little darling grows every day more dear to me--and she often has a
kiss, when we are alone together, which I give her for you, with all my
heart.
I have been interrupted--and must send off my letter. The liberty of the
press will produce a great effect here--the _cry of blood will not be
vain_!--Some more monsters will perish--and the Jacobins are
conquered.--Yet I almost fear the last flap of the tail of the beast.
I have had several trifling teazing inconveniences here, which I shall not
now trouble you with a detail of.--I am sending ---- back; her pregnancy
rendered her useless. The girl I have got has more vivacity, which is
better for the child.
I long to hear from you.--Bring a copy of ---- and ---- with you.
---- is still here: he is a lost man.--He really loves his wife, and is
anxious about his children; but his indiscriminate hospitality and social
feelings have given him an inveterate habit of drinking, that destroys his
health, as well as renders his person disgusting.--If his wife had more
sense, or delicacy, she might restrain him: as it is, nothing will save
him.
Yours most truly and affectionately
MARY.
LETTER XXVII
_[Paris] October 26 [1794]._
My dear love, I began to wish so earnestly to hear from you, that the
sight of your letters occasioned such pleasurable emotions, I was obliged
to throw them aside till the little girl and I were alone together; and
this said little girl, our darling, is become a most intelligent little
creature, and as gay as a lark, and that in the morning too, which I do
not find quite so convenient. I once told you, that the sensations before
she was born, and when she is sucking, were pleasant; but they do not
deserve to be compared to the emotions I feel, when she stops to smile
upon me, or laughs outright on meeting me unexpectedly in the street, or
after a short absence. She has now the advantage of having two good
nurses, and I am at present able to discharge my duty to her, without
being the slave of it.
I have therefore employed and amused myself since I got rid of ----, and
am making a progress in the language amongst other things. I have also
made some new acquaintance. I have almost _charmed_ a judge of the
tribunal, R----, who, though I should not have thought it possible, has
humanity, if not _beaucoup d'esprit_. But let me tell you, if you do not
make haste back, I shall be half in love with the author of the
_Marseillaise_, who is a handsome man, a little too broad-faced or so, and
plays sweetly on the violin.
What do you say to this threat?--why, _entre nous_, I like to give way to
a sprightly vein, when writing to you, that is, when I am pleased with
you. "The devil," you know, is proverbially said to be "in a good humour,
when he is pleased." Will you not then be a good boy, and come back
quickly to play with your girls? but I shall not allow you to love the
new-comer best.
* * * * *
My heart longs for your return, my love, and only looks for, and seeks
happiness with you; yet do not imagine that I childishly wish you to come
back, before you have arranged things in such a manner, that it will not
be necessary for you to leave us soon again, or to make exertions which
injure your constitution.
Yours most truly and tenderly,
MARY.
P.S. You would oblige me by delivering the inclosed to Mr. ----, and pray
call for an answer.--It is for a person uncomfortably situated.
LETTER XXVIII
_[Paris] Dec. 26 [1794]._
I have been, my love, for some days tormented by fears, that I would not
allow to assume a form--I had been expecting you daily--and I heard that
many vessels had been driven on shore during the late gale.--Well, I now
see your letter--and find that you are safe; I will not regret then that
your exertions have hitherto been so unavailing.
* * * * *
Be that as it may, return to me when you have arranged the other matters,
which ---- has been crowding on you. I want to be sure that you are
safe--and not separated from me by a sea that must be passed. For, feeling
that I am happier than I ever was, do you wonder at my sometimes dreading
that fate has not done persecuting me? Come to me, my dearest friend,
husband, father of my child!--All these fond ties glow at my heart at this
moment, and dim my eyes.--With you an independence is desirable; and it is
always within our reach, if affluence escapes us--without you the world
again appears empty to me. But I am recurring to some of the melancholy
thoughts that have flitted across my mind for some days past, and haunted
my dreams.
My little darling is indeed a sweet child; and I am sorry that you are not
here, to see her little mind unfold itself. You talk of "dalliance;" but
certainly no lover was ever more attached to his mistress, than she is to
me. Her eyes follow me every where, and by affection I have the most
despotic power over her. She is all vivacity or softness--yes; I love her
more than I thought I should. When I have been hurt at your stay, I have
embraced her as my only comfort--when pleased with you, for looking and
laughing like you; nay, I cannot, I find, long be angry with you, whilst I
am kissing her for resembling you. But there would be no end to these
details. Fold us both to your heart; for I am truly and affectionately
Yours,
MARY.
LETTER XXIX
_[Paris] December 28 [1794]._
* * * * *
I do, my love, indeed sincerely sympathize with you in all your
disappointments.--Yet, knowing that you are well, and think of me with
affection, I only lament other disappointments, because I am sorry that
you should thus exert yourself in vain, and that you are kept from me.
----, I know, urges you to stay, and is continually branching out into new
projects, because he has the idle desire to amass a large fortune, rather
an immense one, merely to have the credit of having made it. But we who
are governed by other motives, ought not to be led on by him. When we
meet, we will discuss this subject--You will listen to reason, and it has
probably occurred to you, that it will be better, in future, to pursue
some sober plan, which may demand more time, and still enable you to
arrive at the same end. It appears to me absurd to waste life in preparing
to live.
Would it not now be possible to arrange your business in such a manner as
to avoid the inquietudes, of which I have had my share since your
departure? Is it not possible to enter into business, as an employment
necessary to keep the faculties awake, and (to sink a little in the
expressions) the pot boiling, without suffering what must ever be
considered as a secondary object, to engross the mind, and drive sentiment
and affection out of the heart?
I am in a hurry to give this letter to the person who has promised to
forward it with ----'s. I wish then to counteract, in some measure, what
he has doubtless recommended most warmly.
Stay, my friend, whilst it is _absolutely_ necessary.--I will give you no
tenderer name, though it glows at my heart, unless you come the moment the
settling the _present_ objects permit.--_I do not consent_ to your taking
any other journey--or the little woman and I will be off, the Lord knows
where. But, as I had rather owe every thing to your affection, and, I may