Posthumous Works of the Author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman Part 15

VOL. III.

_LONDON:_

PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, NO. 72, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD; AND G. G. AND J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

1798.

LETTERS AND MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

PREFACE.

THE following Letters may possibly be found to contain the finest examples of the language of sentiment and pa.s.sion ever presented to the world. They bear a striking resemblance to the celebrated romance of Werter, though the incidents to which they relate are of a very different cast. Probably the readers to whom Werter is incapable of affording pleasure, will receive no delight from the present publication. The editor apprehends that, in the judgment of those best qualified to decide upon the comparison, these Letters will be admitted to have the superiority over the fiction of Goethe. They are the offspring of a glowing imagination, and a heart penetrated with the pa.s.sion it essays to describe.

To the series of letters const.i.tuting the princ.i.p.al article in these two volumes, are added various pieces, none of which, it is hoped, will be found discreditable to the talents of the author. The slight fragment of Letters on the Management of Infants, may be thought a trifle; but it seems to have some value, as presenting to us with vividness the intention of the writer on this important subject. The publication of a few select Letters to Mr. Johnson, appeared to be at once a just monument to the sincerity of his friends.h.i.+p, and a valuable and interesting specimen of the mind of the writer. The Letter on the Present Character of the French Nation, the Extract of the Cave of Fancy, a Tale, and the Hints for the Second Part of the Rights of Woman, may, I believe, safely be left to speak for themselves. The Essay on Poetry and our Relish for the Beauties of Nature, appeared in the Monthly Magazine for April last, and is the only piece in this collection which has previously found its way to the press.

LETTERS.

LETTER I.

Two o'Clock.

MY dear love, after making my arrangements for our snug dinner to-day, I have been taken by storm, and obliged to promise to dine, at an early hour, with the Miss ----s, the _only_ day they intend to pa.s.s here. I shall however leave the key in the door, and hope to find you at my fire-side when I return, about eight o'clock. Will you not wait for poor Joan?--whom you will find better, and till then think very affectionately of her.

Yours, truly,

I am sitting down to dinner; so do not send an answer.

LETTER II.

Past Twelve o'Clock, Monday night.

[August.]

I OBEY an emotion of my heart, which made me think of wis.h.i.+ng thee, my love, good-night! before I go to rest, with more tenderness than I can to-morrow, when writing a hasty line or two under Colonel ----'s eye. You can scarcely imagine with what pleasure I antic.i.p.ate the day, when we are to begin almost to live together; and you would smile to hear how many plans of employment I have in my head, now that I am confident my heart has found peace in your bosom.--Cherish me with that dignified tenderness, which I have only found in you; and your own dear girl will try to keep under a quickness of feeling, that has sometimes given you pain--Yes, I will be _good_, that I may deserve to be happy; and whilst you love me, I cannot again fall into the miserable state, which rendered life a burthen almost too heavy to be borne.

But, good-night!--G.o.d bless you! Sterne says, that is equal to a kiss--yet I would rather give you the kiss into the bargain, glowing with grat.i.tude to Heaven, and affection to you. I like the word affection, because it signifies something habitual; and we are soon to meet, to try whether we have mind enough to keep our hearts warm.

I will be at the barrier a little after ten o'clock to-morrow[4-A].--Yours--

LETTER III.

Wednesday Morning.

YOU have often called me, dear girl, but you would now say good, did you know how very attentive I have been to the ---- ever since I came to Paris. I am not however going to trouble you with the account, because I like to see your eyes praise me; and, Milton insinuates, that, during such recitals, there are interruptions, not ungrateful to the heart, when the honey that drops from the lips is not merely words.

Yet, I shall not (let me tell you before these people enter, to force me to huddle away my letter) be content with only a kiss of DUTY--you _must_ be glad to see me--because you are glad--or I will make love to the _shade_ of Mirabeau, to whom my heart continually turned, whilst I was talking with Madame ----, forcibly telling me, that it will ever have sufficient warmth to love, whether I will or not, sentiment, though I so highly respect principle.----

Not that I think Mirabeau utterly devoid of principles--Far from it--and, if I had not begun to form a new theory respecting men, I should, in the vanity of my heart, have _imagined_ that _I_ could have made something of his----it was composed of such materials--Hus.h.!.+ here they come--and love flies away in the twinkling of an eye, leaving a little brush of his wing on my pale cheeks.

I hope to see Dr. ---- this morning; I am going to Mr. ----'s to meet him. ----, and some others, are invited to dine with us to-day; and to-morrow I am to spend the day with ----.

I shall probably not be able to return to ---- to-morrow; but it is no matter, because I must take a carriage, I have so many books, that I immediately want, to take with me.--On Friday then I shall expect you to dine with me--and, if you come a little before dinner, it is so long since I have seen you, you will not be scolded by yours affectionately

LETTER IV[7-A].

Friday Morning [September.]

A MAN, whom a letter from Mr. ----previously announced, called here yesterday for the payment of a draft; and, as he seemed disappointed at not finding you at home, I sent him to Mr. ----. I have since seen him, and he tells me that he has settled the business.

So much for business!--May I venture to talk a little longer about less weighty affairs?--How are you?--I have been following you all along the road this comfortless weather; for, when I am absent from those I love, my imagination is as lively, as if my senses had never been gratified by their presence--I was going to say caresses--and why should I not? I have found out that I have more mind than you, in one respect; because I can, without any violent effort of reason, find food for love in the same object, much longer than you can.--The way to my senses is through my heart; but, forgive me! I think there is sometimes a shorter cut to yours.

With ninety-nine men out of a hundred, a very sufficient dash of folly is necessary to render a woman _piquante_, a soft word for desirable; and, beyond these casual ebullitions of sympathy, few look for enjoyment by fostering a pa.s.sion in their hearts. One reason, in short, why I wish my whole s.e.x to become wiser, is, that the foolish ones may not, by their pretty folly, rob those whose sensibility keeps down their vanity, of the few roses that afford them some solace in the th.o.r.n.y road of life.

I do not know how I fell into these reflections, excepting one thought produced it--that these continual separations were necessary to warm your affection.--Of late, we are always separating.--Crack!--crack!--and away you go.--This joke wears the sallow cast of thought; for, though I began to write cheerfully, some melancholy tears have found their way into my eyes, that linger there, whilst a glow of tenderness at my heart whispers that you are one of the best creatures in the world.--Pardon then the vagaries of a mind, that has been almost "crazed by care," as well as "crossed in hapless love," and bear with me a _little_ longer!--When we are settled in the country together, more duties will open before me, and my heart, which now, trembling into peace, is agitated by every emotion that awakens the remembrance of old griefs, will learn to rest on yours, with that dignity your character, not to talk of my own, demands.

Take care of yourself--and write soon to your own girl (you may add dear, if you please) who sincerely loves you, and will try to convince you of it, by becoming happier.