[
  {
    "heading": "LETTER I",
    "body": "_Two o'Clock [Paris, June 1793]._\n\n\nMy dear love, after making my arrangements for our snug dinner to-day, I\nhave been taken by storm, and obliged to promise to dine, at an early\nhour, with the Miss ----s, the _only_ day they intend to pass here. I\nshall however leave the key in the door, and hope to find you at my\nfire-side when I return, about eight o'clock. Will you not wait for poor\nJoan?--whom you will find better, and till then think very affectionately\nof her.\n\n  Yours, truly,\n    MARY.\n\nI am sitting down to dinner; so do not send an answer.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER II",
    "body": "_Past Twelve o'Clock, Monday Night\n  [Paris, Aug. 1793]._\n\n\nI obey an emotion of my heart, which made me think of wishing thee, my\nlove, good-night! before I go to rest, with more tenderness than I can\nto-morrow, when writing a hasty line or two under Colonel ----'s eye. You\ncan scarcely imagine with what pleasure I anticipate the day, when we are\nto begin almost to live together; and you would smile to hear how many\nplans of employment I have in my head, now that I am confident my heart\nhas found peace in your bosom.--Cherish me with that dignified tenderness,\nwhich I have only found in you; and your own dear girl will try to keep\nunder a quickness of feeling, that has sometimes given you pain.--Yes, I\nwill be _good_, that I may deserve to be happy; and whilst you love me, I\ncannot again fall into the miserable state, which rendered life a burthen\nalmost too heavy to be borne.\n\nBut, good-night!--God bless you! Sterne says, that is equal to a kiss--yet\nI would rather give you the kiss into the bargain, glowing with gratitude\nto Heaven, and affection to you. I like the word affection, because it\nsignifies something habitual; and we are soon to meet, to try whether we\nhave mind enough to keep our hearts warm.\n\n  MARY.\n\nI will be at the barrier a little after ten o'clock to-morrow.[2]--Yours--",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER III",
    "body": "_Wednesday Morning [Paris, Aug. 1793]._\n\nYou have often called me, dear girl, but you would now say good, did you\nknow how very attentive I have been to the ---- ever since I came to\nParis. I am not however going to trouble you with the account, because I\nlike to see your eyes praise me; and Milton insinuates, that, during such\nrecitals, there are interruptions, not ungrateful to the heart, when the\nhoney that drops from the lips is not merely words.\n\nYet, I shall not (let me tell you before these people enter, to force me\nto huddle away my letter) be content with only a kiss of DUTY--you _must_\nbe glad to see me--because you are glad--or I will make love to the\n_shade_ of Mirabeau, to whom my heart continually turned, whilst I was\ntalking with Madame ----, forcibly telling me, that it will ever have\nsufficient warmth to love, whether I will or not, sentiment, though I so\nhighly respect principle.----\n\nNot that I think Mirabeau utterly devoid of principles--Far from it--and,\nif I had not begun to form a new theory respecting men, I should, in the\nvanity of my heart, have _imagined_ that _I_ could have made something of\nhis----it was composed of such materials--Hush! here they come--and love\nflies away in the twinkling of an eye, leaving a little brush of his wing\non my pale cheeks.\n\nI hope to see Dr. ---- this morning; I am going to Mr. ----'s to meet him.\n----, and some others, are invited to dine with us to-day; and to-morrow I\nam to spend the day with ----.\n\nI shall probably not be able to return to ---- to-morrow; but it is no\nmatter, because I must take a carriage, I have so many books, that I\nimmediately want, to take with me.--On Friday then I shall expect you to\ndine with me--and, if you come a little before dinner, it is so long since\nI have seen you, you will not be scolded by yours affectionately,\n\n  MARY.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IV[3]\n\n\n_Friday Morning [Paris, Sept. 1793]._\n\nA man, whom a letter from Mr. ---- previously announced, called here\nyesterday for the payment of a draft; and, as he seemed disappointed at\nnot finding you at home, I sent him to Mr. ----. I have since seen him,\nand he tells me that he has settled the business.\n\nSo much for business!--May I venture to talk a little longer about less\nweighty affairs?--How are you?--I have been following you all along the\nroad this comfortless weather; for, when I am absent from those I love, my\nimagination is as lively, as if my senses had never been gratified by\ntheir presence--I was going to say caresses--and why should I not? I have\nfound out that I have more mind than you, in one respect; because I can,\nwithout any violent effort of reason, find food for love in the same\nobject, much longer than you can.--The way to my senses is through my\nheart; but, forgive me! I think there is sometimes a shorter cut to yours.\n\nWith ninety-nine men out of a hundred, a very sufficient dash of folly is\nnecessary to render a woman _piquante_, a soft word for desirable; and,\nbeyond these casual ebullitions of sympathy, few look for enjoyment by\nfostering a passion in their hearts. One reason, in short, why I wish my\nwhole sex to become wiser, is, that the foolish ones may not, by their\npretty folly, rob those whose sensibility keeps down their vanity, of the\nfew roses that afford them some solace in the thorny road of life.\n\nI do not know how I fell into these reflections, excepting one thought\nproduced it--that these continual separations were necessary to warm your\naffection.--Of late, we are always separating.--Crack!--crack!--and away\nyou go.--This joke wears the sallow cast of thought; for, though I began\nto write cheerfully, some melancholy tears have found their way into my\neyes, that linger there, whilst a glow of tenderness at my heart whispers\nthat you are one of the best creatures in the world.--Pardon then the\nvagaries of a mind, that has been almost \"crazed by care,\" as well as\n\"crossed in hapless love,\" and bear with me a _little_ longer!--When we\nare settled in the country together, more duties will open before me, and\nmy heart, which now, trembling into peace, is agitated by every emotion\nthat awakens the remembrance of old griefs, will learn to rest on yours,\nwith that dignity your character, not to talk of my own, demands.\n\nTake care of yourself--and write soon to your own girl (you may add dear,\nif you please) who sincerely loves you, and will try to convince you of\nit, by becoming happier.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER V",
    "body": "_Sunday Night [Paris, 1793]._\n\nI have just received your letter, and feel as if I could not go to bed\ntranquilly without saying a few words in reply--merely to tell you, that\nmy mind is serene and my heart affectionate.\n\nEver since you last saw me inclined to faint, I have felt some gentle\ntwitches, which make me begin to think, that I am nourishing a creature\nwho will soon be sensible of my care.--This thought has not only produced\nan overflowing of tenderness to you, but made me very attentive to calm my\nmind and take exercise, lest I should destroy an object, in whom we are to\nhave a mutual interest, you know. Yesterday--do not smile!--finding that\nI had hurt myself by lifting precipitately a large log of wood, I sat\ndown in an agony, till I felt those said twitches again.\n\nAre you very busy?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo you may reckon on its being finished soon, though not before you come\nhome, unless you are detained longer than I now allow myself to believe\nyou will.--\n\nBe that as it may, write to me, my best love, and bid me be\npatient--kindly--and the expressions of kindness will again beguile the\ntime, as sweetly as they have done to-night.--Tell me also over and over\nagain, that your happiness (and you deserve to be happy!) is closely\nconnected with mine, and I will try to dissipate, as they rise, the fumes\nof former discontent, that have too often clouded the sunshine, which you\nhave endeavoured to diffuse through my mind. God bless you! Take care of\nyourself, and remember with tenderness your affectionate\n\n  MARY.\n\nI am going to rest very happy, and you have made me so.--This is the\nkindest good-night I can utter.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER VI",
    "body": "_Friday Morning [Paris, Dec. 1793]._\n\nI am glad to find that other people can be unreasonable, as well as\nmyself--for be it known to thee, that I answered thy _first_ letter, the\nvery night it reached me (Sunday), though thou couldst not receive it\nbefore Wednesday, because it was not sent off till the next day.--There is\na full, true, and particular account.--\n\nYet I am not angry with thee, my love, for I think that it is a proof of\nstupidity, and likewise of a milk-and-water affection, which comes to the\nsame thing, when the temper is governed by a square and compass.--There\nis nothing picturesque in this straight-lined equality, and the passions\nalways give grace to the actions.\n\nRecollection now makes my heart bound to thee; but, it is not to thy\nmoney-getting face, though I cannot be seriously displeased with the\nexertion which increases my esteem, or rather is what I should have\nexpected from thy character.--No; I have thy honest countenance before\nme--Pop--relaxed by tenderness; a little--little wounded by my whims; and\nthy eyes glistening with sympathy.--Thy lips then feel softer than\nsoft--and I rest my cheek on thine, forgetting all the world.--I have not\nleft the hue of love out of the picture--the rosy glow; and fancy has\nspread it over my own cheeks, I believe, for I feel them burning, whilst a\ndelicious tear trembles in my eye, that would be all your own, if a\ngrateful emotion directed to the Father of nature, who has made me thus\nalive to happiness, did not give more warmth to the sentiment it\ndivides--I must pause a moment.\n\nNeed I tell you that I am tranquil after writing thus?--I do not know why,\nbut I have more confidence in your affection, when absent, than present;\nnay, I think that you must love me, for, in the sincerity of my heart let\nme say it, I believe I deserve your tenderness, because I am true, and\nhave a degree of sensibility that you can see and relish.\n\n  Yours sincerely,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER VII.",
    "body": "_Sunday Morning [Paris, Dec. 29, 1793]._\n\nYou seem to have taken up your abode at Havre. Pray sir! when do you think\nof coming home? or, to write very considerately, when will business permit\nyou? I shall expect (as the country people say in England) that you will\nmake a _power_ of money to indemnify me for your absence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWell! but, my love, to the old story--am I to see you this week, or this\nmonth?--I do not know what you are about--for, as you did not tell me, I\nwould not ask Mr. ----, who is generally pretty communicative.\n\nI long to see Mrs. ----; not to hear from you, so do not give yourself\nairs, but to get a letter from Mr. ----. And I am half angry with you for\nnot informing me whether she had brought one with her or not.--On this\nscore I will cork up some of the kind things that were ready to drop from\nmy pen, which has never been dipt in gall when addressing you; or, will\nonly suffer an exclamation--\"The creature!\" or a kind look to escape me,\nwhen I pass the slippers--which I could not remove from my _falle_ door,\nthough they are not the handsomest of their kind.\n\n_Be not too anxious to get money!--for nothing worth having is to be\npurchased._ God bless you.\n\n  Yours affectionately,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER VIII",
    "body": "_Monday Night [Paris, Dec. 30, 1793]._\n\nMy best love, your letter to-night was particularly grateful to my heart,\ndepressed by the letters I received by ----, for he brought me several,\nand the parcel of books directed to Mr. ---- was for me. Mr. ----'s letter\nwas long and very affectionate; but the account he gives me of his own\naffairs, though he obviously makes the best of them, has vexed me.\n\nA melancholy letter from my sister ---- has also harrassed my mind--that\nfrom my brother would have given me sincere pleasure; but for\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is a spirit of independence in his letter, that will please you; and\nyou shall see it, when we are once more over the fire together.--I think\nthat you would hail him as a brother, with one of your tender looks, when\nyour heart not only gives a lustre to your eye, but a dance of\nplayfulness, that he would meet with a glow half made up of bashfulness,\nand a desire to please the----where shall I find a word to express the\nrelationship which subsists between us?--Shall I ask the little\ntwitcher?--But I have dropt half the sentence that was to tell you how\nmuch he would be inclined to love the man loved by his sister. I have been\nfancying myself sitting between you, ever since I began to write, and my\nheart has leaped at the thought! You see how I chat to you.\n\nI did not receive your letter till I came home; and I did not expect it,\nfor the post came in much later than usual. It was a cordial to me--and I\nwanted one.\n\nMr. ---- tells me that he has written again and again.--Love him a\nlittle!--It would be a kind of separation, if you did not love those I\nlove.\n\nThere was so much considerate tenderness in your epistle to-night, that,\nif it has not made you dearer to me, it has made me forcibly feel how very\ndear you are to me, by charming away half my cares.\n\n  Yours affectionately.\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER IX",
    "body": "_Tuesday Morning [Paris, Dec. 31, 1793]._\n\nThough I have just sent a letter off, yet, as captain ---- offers to take\none, I am not willing to let him go without a kind greeting, because\ntrifles of this sort, without having any effect on my mind, damp my\nspirits:--and you, with all your struggles to be manly, have some of his\nsame sensibility.--Do not bid it begone, for I love to see it striving to\nmaster your features; besides, these kind of sympathies are the life of\naffection: and why, in cultivating our understandings, should we try to\ndry up these springs of pleasure, which gush out to give a freshness to\ndays browned by care!\n\nThe books sent to me are such as we may read together; so I shall not look\ninto them till you return; when you shall read, whilst I mend my\nstockings.\n\n  Yours truly,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER X",
    "body": "_Wednesday Night [Paris, Jan. 1, 1794]._\n\nAs I have been, you tell me, three days without writing, I ought not to\ncomplain of two: yet, as I expected to receive a letter this afternoon, I\nam hurt; and why should I, by concealing it, affect the heroism I do not\nfeel?\n\nI hate commerce. How differently must ----'s head and heart be organized\nfrom mine! You will tell me, that exertions are necessary: I am weary of\nthem! The face of things, public and private, vexes me. The \"peace\" and\nclemency which seemed to be dawning a few days ago, disappear again. \"I am\nfallen,\" as Milton said, \"on evil days;\" for I really believe that Europe\nwill be in a state of convulsion, during half a century at least. Life is\nbut a labour of patience: it is always rolling a great stone up a hill;\nfor, before a person can find a resting-place, imagining it is lodged,\ndown it comes again, and all the work is to be done over anew!\n\nShould I attempt to write any more, I could not change the strain. My head\naches, and my heart is heavy. The world appears an \"unweeded garden,\"\nwhere \"things rank and vile\" flourish best.\n\nIf you do not return soon--or, which is no such mighty matter, talk of\nit--I will throw your slippers out at window, and be off--nobody knows\nwhere.\n\n  MARY.\n\nFinding that I was observed, I told the good women, the two Mrs. ----s,\nsimply that I was with child: and let them stare! and ----, and ----, nay,\nall the world, may know it for aught I care!--Yet I wish to avoid ----'s\ncoarse jokes.\n\nConsidering the care and anxiety a woman must have about a child before it\ncomes into the world, it seems to me, by a _natural right_, to belong to\nher. When men get immersed in the world, they seem to lose all sensations,\nexcepting those necessary to continue or produce life!--Are these the\nprivileges of reason? Amongst the feathered race, whilst the hen keeps\nthe young warm, her mate stays by to cheer her; but it is sufficient for\nman to condescend to get a child, in order to claim it.--A man is a\ntyrant!\n\nYou may now tell me, that, if it were not for me, you would be laughing\naway with some honest fellows in London. The casual exercise of social\nsympathy would not be sufficient for me--I should not think such an\nheartless life worth preserving.--It is necessary to be in good-humour\nwith you, to be pleased with the world.\n\n\n_Thursday Morning [Paris, Jan. 2, 1794]._\n\nI was very low-spirited last night, ready to quarrel with your cheerful\ntemper, which makes absence easy to you.--And, why should I mince the\nmatter? I was offended at your not even mentioning it--I do not want to be\nloved like a goddess but I wish to be necessary to you. God bless you![4]",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XI",
    "body": "_Monday Night [Paris, Jan. 1794]._\n\nI have just received your kind and rational letter, and would fain hide my\nface, glowing with shame for my folly.--I would hide it in your bosom, if\nyou would again open it to me, and nestle closely till you bade my\nfluttering heart be still, by saying that you forgave me. With eyes\noverflowing with tears, and in the humblest attitude, I entreat you.--Do\nnot turn from me, for indeed I love you fondly, and have been very\nwretched, since the night I was so cruelly hurt by thinking that you had\nno confidence in me----\n\nIt is time for me to grow more reasonable, a few more of these caprices\nof sensibility would destroy me. I have, in fact, been very much\nindisposed for a few days past, and the notion that I was tormenting, or\nperhaps killing, a poor little animal, about whom I am grown anxious and\ntender, now I feel it alive, made me worse. My bowels have been dreadfully\ndisordered, and every thing I ate or drank disagreed with my stomach;\nstill I feel intimations of its existence, though they have been fainter.\n\nDo you think that the creature goes regularly to sleep? I am ready to ask\nas many questions as Voltaire's Man of Forty Crowns. Ah! do not continue\nto be angry with me! You perceive that I am already smiling through my\ntears--You have lightened my heart, and my frozen spirits are melting into\nplayfulness.\n\nWrite the moment you receive this. I shall count the minutes. But drop not\nan angry word--I cannot now bear it. Yet, if you think I deserve a\nscolding (it does not admit of a question, I grant), wait till you come\nback--and then, if you are angry one day, I shall be sure of seeing you\nthe next.\n\n---- did not write to you, I suppose, because he talked of going to Havre.\nHearing that I was ill, he called very kindly on me, not dreaming that it\nwas some words that he incautiously let fall, which rendered me so.\n\nGod bless you, my love; do not shut your heart against a return of\ntenderness; and, as I now in fancy cling to you, be more than ever my\nsupport.--Feel but as affectionate when you read this letter, as I did\nwriting it, and you will make happy your\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XII",
    "body": "_Wednesday Morning [Paris, Jan. 1794]._\n\nI will never, if I am not entirely cured of quarrelling, begin to\nencourage \"quick-coming fancies,\" when we are separated. Yesterday, my\nlove, I could not open your letter for some time; and, though it was not\nhalf as severe as I merited, it threw me into such a fit of trembling, as\nseriously alarmed me. I did not, as you may suppose, care for a little\npain on my own account; but all the fears which I have had for a few days\npast, returned with fresh force. This morning I am better; will you not be\nglad to hear it? You perceive that sorrow has almost made a child of me,\nand that I want to be soothed to peace.\n\nOne thing you mistake in my character, and imagine that to be coldness\nwhich is just the contrary. For, when I am hurt by the person most dear to\nme, I must let out a whole torrent of emotions, in which tenderness would\nbe uppermost, or stifle them altogether; and it appears to me almost a\nduty to stifle them, when I imagine _that I am treated with coldness_.\n\nI am afraid that I have vexed you, my own [Imlay]. I know the quickness of\nyour feelings--and let me, in the sincerity of my heart, assure you, there\nis nothing I would not suffer to make you happy. My own happiness wholly\ndepends on you--and, knowing you, when my reason is not clouded, I look\nforward to a rational prospect of as much felicity as the earth\naffords--with a little dash of rapture into the bargain, if you will look\nat me, when we work again, as you have sometimes greeted, your humbled,\nyet most affectionate\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XIII",
    "body": "_Thursday Night [Paris, Jan. 1794]._\n\nI have been wishing the time away, my kind love, unable to rest till I\nknew that my penitential letter had reached your hand--and this afternoon,\nwhen your tender epistle of Tuesday gave such exquisite pleasure to your\npoor sick girl, her heart smote her to think that you were still to\nreceive another cold one.--Burn it also, my [Imlay]; yet do not forget\nthat even those letters were full of love; and I shall ever recollect,\nthat you did not wait to be mollified by my penitence, before you took me\nagain to your heart.\n\nI have been unwell, and would not, now I am recovering, take a journey,\nbecause I have been seriously alarmed and angry with myself, dreading\ncontinually the fatal consequence of my folly.--But, should you think it\nright to remain at Havre, I shall find some opportunity, in the course of\na fortnight, or less perhaps, to come to you, and before then I shall be\nstrong again.--Yet do not be uneasy! I am really better, and never took\nsuch care of myself, as I have done since you restored my peace of mind.\nThe girl is come to warm my bed--so I will tenderly say, good-night! and\nwrite a line or two in the morning.\n\n\n_Morning._\n\nI wish you were here to walk with me this fine morning! yet your absence\nshall not prevent me. I have stayed at home too much; though, when I was\nso dreadfully out of spirits, I was careless of every thing.\n\nI will now sally forth (you will go with me in my heart) and try whether\nthis fine bracing air will not give the vigour to the poor babe, it had,\nbefore I so inconsiderately gave way to the grief that deranged my bowels,\nand gave a turn to my whole system.\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY IMLAY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XIV",
    "body": "_Saturday Morning [Paris, Feb. 1794]._\n\nThe two or three letters, which I have written to you lately, my love,\nwill serve as an answer to your explanatory one. I cannot but respect your\nmotives and conduct. I always respected them; and was only hurt, by what\nseemed to me a want of confidence, and consequently affection.--I thought\nalso, that if you were obliged to stay three months at Havre, I might as\nwell have been with you.--Well! well, what signifies what I brooded\nover--Let us now be friends!\n\nI shall probably receive a letter from you to-day, sealing my pardon--and\nI will be careful not to torment you with my querulous humours, at least,\ntill I see you again. Act as circumstances direct, and I will not enquire\nwhen they will permit you to return, convinced that you will hasten to\nyour Mary, when you have attained (or lost sight of) the object of your\njourney.\n\nWhat a picture have you sketched of our fire-side! Yes, my love, my fancy\nwas instantly at work, and I found my head on your shoulder, whilst my\neyes were fixed on the little creatures that were clinging about your\nknees. I did not absolutely determine that there should be six--if you\nhave not set your heart on this round number.\n\nI am going to dine with Mrs. ----. I have not been to visit her since the\nfirst day she came to Paris. I wish indeed to be out in the air as much as\nI can; for the exercise I have taken these two or three days past, has\nbeen of such service to me, that I hope shortly to tell you, that I am\nquite well. I have scarcely slept before last night, and then not\nmuch.--The two Mrs. ----s have been very anxious and tender.\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.\n\nI need not desire you to give the colonel a good bottle of wine.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XV",
    "body": "_Sunday Morning [Paris, Feb. 1794]._\n\nI wrote to you yesterday, my [Imlay]; but, finding that the colonel is\nstill detained (for his passport was forgotten at the office yesterday) I\nam not willing to let so many days elapse without your hearing from me,\nafter having talked of illness and apprehensions.\n\nI cannot boast of being quite recovered, yet I am (I must use my Yorkshire\nphrase; for, when my heart is warm, pop come the expressions of childhood\ninto my head) so _lightsome_, that I think it will not _go badly with\nme_.--And nothing shall be wanting on my part, I assure you; for I am\nurged on, not only by an enlivened affection for you, but by a new-born\ntenderness that plays cheerly round my dilating heart.\n\nI was therefore, in defiance of cold and dirt, out in the air the greater\npart of yesterday; and, if I get over this evening without a return of the\nfever that has tormented me, I shall talk no more of illness. I have\npromised the little creature, that its mother, who ought to cherish it,\nwill not again plague it, and begged it to pardon me; and, since I could\nnot hug either it or you to my breast, I have to my heart.--I am afraid to\nread over this prattle--but it is only for your eye.\n\nI have been seriously vexed, to find that, whilst you were harrassed by\nimpediments in your undertakings, I was giving you additional\nuneasiness.--If you can make any of your plans answer--it is well, I do\nnot think a _little_ money inconvenient; but, should they fail, we will\nstruggle cheerfully together--drawn closer by the pinching blasts of\npoverty.\n\nAdieu, my love! Write often to your poor girl, and write long letters; for\nI not only like them for being longer, but because more heart steals into\nthem; and I am happy to catch your heart whenever I can.\n\n  Yours sincerely\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XVI",
    "body": "_Tuesday Morning [Paris, Feb. 1794]._\n\nI seize this opportunity to inform you, that I am to set out on Thursday\nwith Mr. ----, and hope to tell you soon (on your lips) how glad I shall\nbe to see you. I have just got my passport, for I do not foresee any\nimpediment to my reaching Havre, to bid you good-night next Friday in my\nnew apartment--where I am to meet you and love, in spite of care, to smile\nme to sleep--for I have not caught much rest since we parted.\n\nYou have, by your tenderness and worth, twisted yourself more artfully\nround my heart, than I supposed possible.--Let me indulge the thought,\nthat I have thrown out some tendrils to cling to the elm by which I wish\nto be supported.--This is talking a new language for me!--But, knowing\nthat I am not a parasite-plant, I am willing to receive the proofs of\naffection, that every pulse replies to, when I think of being once more in\nthe same house with you. God bless you!\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XVII",
    "body": "_Wednesday Morning [Paris, Feb. 1794]._\n\nI only send this as an _avant-coureur_, without jack-boots, to tell you,\nthat I am again on the wing, and hope to be with you a few hours after you\nreceive it. I shall find you well, and composed, I am sure; or, more\nproperly speaking, cheerful.--What is the reason that my spirits are not\nas manageable as yours? Yet, now I think of it, I will not allow that your\ntemper is even, though I have promised myself, in order to obtain my own\nforgiveness, that I will not ruffle it for a long, long time--I am afraid\nto say never.\n\nFarewell for a moment!--Do not forget that I am driving towards you in\nperson! My mind, unfettered, has flown to you long since, or rather has\nnever left you.\n\nI am well, and have no apprehension that I shall find the journey too\nfatiguing, when I follow the lead of my heart.--With my face turned to\nHavre my spirits will not sink--and my mind has always hitherto enabled my\nbody to do whatever I wished.\n\n  Yours affectionately,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XVIII",
    "body": "_Thursday Morning, Havre, March 12 [1794]._\n\nWe are such creatures of habit, my love, that, though I cannot say I was\nsorry, childishly so, for your going,[5] when I knew that you were to stay\nsuch a short time, and I had a plan of employment; yet I could not\nsleep.--I turned to your side of the bed, and tried to make the most of\nthe comfort of the pillow, which you used to tell me I was churlish about;\nbut all would not do.--I took nevertheless my walk before breakfast,\nthough the weather was not very inviting--and here I am, wishing you a\nfiner day, and seeing you peep over my shoulder, as I write, with one of\nyour kindest looks--when your eyes glisten, and a suffusion creeps over\nyour relaxing features.\n\nBut I do not mean to dally with you this morning--So God bless you! Take\ncare of yourself--and sometimes fold to your heart your affectionate\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XIX",
    "body": "_[Havre, March, 1794]._\n\nDo not call me stupid, for leaving on the table the little bit of paper I\nwas to inclose.--This comes of being in love at the fag-end of a letter\nof business.--You know, you say, they will not chime together.--I had got\nyou by the fire-side, with the _gigot_ smoking on the board, to lard your\npoor bare ribs--and behold, I closed my letter without taking the paper\nup, that was directly under my eyes! What had I got in them to render me\nso blind?--I give you leave to answer the question, if you will not scold;\nfor I am,\n\n  Yours most affectionately,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XX",
    "body": "_[Havre] Sunday, August 17 [1794]._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have promised ---- to go with him to his country-house, where he is now\npermitted to dine--I, and the little darling, to be sure[6]--whom I cannot\nhelp kissing with more fondness, since you left us. I think I shall enjoy\nthe fine prospect, and that it will rather enliven, than satiate my\nimagination.\n\nI have called on Mrs. ----. She has the manners of a gentlewoman, with a\ndash of the easy French coquetry, which renders her _piquante_.--But\n_Monsieur_ her husband, whom nature never dreamed of casting in either the\nmould of a gentleman or lover, makes but an aukward figure in the\nforeground of the picture.\n\nThe H----s are very ugly, without doubt--and the house smelt of commerce\nfrom top to toe--so that his abortive attempt to display taste, only\nproved it to be one of the things not to be bought with gold. I was in a\nroom a moment alone, and my attention was attracted by the _pendule_--A\nnymph was offering up her vows before a smoking altar, to a fat-bottomed\nCupid (saving your presence), who was kicking his heels in the air.--Ah!\nkick on, thought I; for the demon of traffic will ever fright away the\nloves and graces, that streak with the rosy beams of infant fancy the\n_sombre_ day of life--whilst the imagination, not allowing us to see\nthings as they are, enables us to catch a hasty draught of the running\nstream of delight, the thirst for which seems to be given only to\ntantalize us.\n\nBut I am philosophizing; nay, perhaps you will call me severe, and bid me\nlet the square-headed money-getters alone.--Peace to them! though none of\nthe social sprites (and there are not a few of different descriptions, who\nsport about the various inlets to my heart) gave me a twitch to restrain\nmy pen.\n\nI have been writing on, expecting poor ---- to come; for, when I began, I\nmerely thought of business; and, as this is the idea that most naturally\nassociates with your image, I wonder I stumbled on any other.\n\nYet, as common life, in my opinion, is scarcely worth having, even with a\n_gigot_ every day, and a pudding added thereunto, I will allow you to\ncultivate my judgment, if you will permit me to keep alive the sentiments\nin your heart, which may be termed romantic, because, the offspring of the\nsenses and the imagination, they resemble the mother more than the\nfather,[7] when they produce the suffusion I admire.--In spite of icy age,\nI hope still to see it, if you have not determined only to eat and drink,\nand be stupidly useful to the stupid--\n\n  Yours,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXI",
    "body": "_Havre, August 19 [1794] Tuesday._\n\nI received both your letters to-day--I had reckoned on hearing from you\nyesterday, therefore was disappointed, though I imputed your silence to\nthe right cause. I intended answering your kind letter immediately, that\nyou might have felt the pleasure it gave me; but ---- came in, and some\nother things interrupted me; so that the fine vapour has evaporated--yet,\nleaving a sweet scent behind, I have only to tell you, what is\nsufficiently obvious, that the earnest desire I have shown to keep my\nplace, or gain more ground in your heart, is a sure proof how necessary\nyour affection is to my happiness.--Still I do not think it false\ndelicacy, or foolish pride, to wish that your attention to my happiness\nshould arise _as much_ from love, which is always rather a selfish\npassion, as reason--that is, I want you to promote my felicity, by seeking\nyour own.--For, whatever pleasure it may give me to discover your\ngenerosity of soul, I would not be dependent for your affection on the\nvery quality I most admire. No; there are qualities in your heart, which\ndemand my affection; but, unless the attachment appears to me clearly\nmutual, I shall labour only to esteem your character, instead of\ncherishing a tenderness for your person.\n\nI write in a hurry, because the little one, who has been sleeping a long\ntime, begins to call for me. Poor thing! when I am sad, I lament that all\nmy affections grow on me, till they become too strong for my peace, though\nthey all afford me snatches of exquisite enjoyment--This for our little\ngirl was at first very reasonable--more the effect of reason, a sense of\nduty, than feeling--now, she has got into my heart and imagination, and\nwhen I walk out without her, her little figure is ever dancing before me.\n\nYou too have somehow clung round my heart--I found I could not eat my\ndinner in the great room--and, when I took up the large knife to carve for\nmyself, tears rushed into my eyes.--Do not however suppose that I am\nmelancholy--for, when you are from me, I not only wonder how I can find\nfault with you--but how I can doubt your affection.\n\nI will not mix any comments on the inclosed (it roused my indignation)\nwith the effusion of tenderness, with which I assure you, that you are the\nfriend of my bosom, and the prop of my heart.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXII",
    "body": "_Havre, August 20 [1794]._\n\nI want to know what steps you have taken respecting ----. Knavery always\nrouses my indignation--I should be gratified to hear that the law had\nchastised ---- severely; but I do not wish you to see him, because the\nbusiness does not now admit of peaceful discussion, and I do not exactly\nknow how you would express your contempt.\n\nPray ask some questions about Tallien--I am still pleased with the dignity\nof his conduct.--The other day, in the cause of humanity, he made use of\na degree of address, which I admire--and mean to point out to you, as one\nof the few instances of address which do credit to the abilities of the\nman, without taking away from that confidence in his openness of heart,\nwhich is the true basis of both public and private friendship.\n\nDo not suppose that I mean to allude to a little reserve of temper in you,\nof which I have sometimes complained! You have been used to a cunning\nwoman, and you almost look for cunning--Nay, in _managing_ my happiness,\nyou now and then wounded my sensibility, concealing yourself, till honest\nsympathy, giving you to me without disguise, lets me look into a heart,\nwhich my half-broken one wishes to creep into, to be revived and\ncherished.--You have frankness of heart, but not often exactly that\noverflowing (_epanchement de coeur_), which becoming almost childish,\nappears a weakness only to the weak.\n\nBut I have left poor Tallien. I wanted you to enquire likewise whether, as\na member declared in the convention, Robespierre really maintained a\n_number_ of mistresses.--Should it prove so, I suspect that they rather\nflattered his vanity than his senses.\n\nHere is a chatting, desultory epistle! But do not suppose that I mean to\nclose it without mentioning the little damsel--who has been almost\nspringing out of my arm--she certainly looks very like you--but I do not\nlove her the less for that, whether I am angry or pleased with you.\n\n  Yours affectionately,\n    MARY.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XXIII[8]\n\n\n_[Paris] September 22 [1794]._\n\nI have just written two letters, that are going by other conveyances, and\nwhich I reckon on your receiving long before this. I therefore merely\nwrite, because I know I should be disappointed at seeing any one who had\nleft you, if you did not send a letter, were it ever so short, to tell me\nwhy you did not write a longer--and you will want to be told, over and\nover again, that our little Hercules is quite recovered.\n\nBesides looking at me, there are three other things, which delight her--to\nride in a coach, to look at a scarlet waistcoat, and hear loud\nmusic--yesterday, at the _fete_, she enjoyed the two latter; but, to\nhonour J. J. Rousseau, I intend to give her a sash, the first she has ever\nhad round her--and why not?--for I have always been half in love with him.\n\nWell, this you will say is trifling--shall I talk about alum or soap?\nThere is nothing picturesque in your present pursuits; my imagination then\nrather chuses to ramble back to the barrier with you, or to see you\ncoming to meet me, and my basket of grapes.--With what pleasure do I\nrecollect your looks and words, when I have been sitting on the window,\nregarding the waving corn!\n\nBelieve me, sage sir, you have not sufficient respect for the\nimagination--I could prove to you in a trice that it is the mother of\nsentiment, the great distinction of our nature, the only purifier of the\npassions--animals have a portion of reason, and equal, if not more\nexquisite, senses; but no trace of imagination, or her offspring taste,\nappears in any of their actions. The impulse of the senses, passions, if\nyou will, and the conclusions of reason, draw men together; but the\nimagination is the true fire, stolen from heaven, to animate this cold\ncreature of clay, producing all those fine sympathies that lead to\nrapture, rendering men social by expanding their hearts, instead of\nleaving them leisure to calculate how many comforts society affords.\n\nIf you call these observations romantic, a phrase in this place which\nwould be tantamount to nonsensical, I shall be apt to retort, that you are\nembruted by trade, and the vulgar enjoyments of life--Bring me then back\nyour barrier-face, or you shall have nothing to say to my barrier-girl;\nand I shall fly from you, to cherish the remembrances that will ever be\ndear to me; for I am yours truly,\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXIV",
    "body": "_[Paris] Evening, Sept. 23, [1794]._\n\nI have been playing and laughing with the little girl so long, that I\ncannot take up my pen to address you without emotion. Pressing her to my\nbosom, she looked so like you (_entre nous_, your best looks, for I do not\nadmire your commercial face) every nerve seemed to vibrate to the touch,\nand I began to think that there was something in the assertion of man and\nwife being one--for you seemed to pervade my whole frame, quickening the\nbeat of my heart, and lending me the sympathetic tears you excited.\n\nHave I any thing more to say to you? No; not for the present--the rest is\nall flown away; and, indulging tenderness for you, I cannot now complain\nof some people here, who have ruffled my temper for two or three days\npast.\n\n\n_[Paris, 1794] Morning._\n\nYesterday B---- sent to me for my packet of letters. He called on me\nbefore; and I like him better than I did--that is, I have the same opinion\nof his understanding, but I think with you, he has more tenderness and\nreal delicacy of feeling with respect to women, than are commonly to be\nmet with. His manner too of speaking of his little girl, about the age of\nmine, interested me. I gave him a letter for my sister, and requested him\nto see her.\n\nI have been interrupted. Mr. ---- I suppose will write about business.\nPublic affairs I do not descant on, except to tell you that they write now\nwith great freedom and truth; and this liberty of the press will overthrow\nthe Jacobins, I plainly perceive.\n\nI hope you take care of your health. I have got a habit of restlessness at\nnight, which arises, I believe, from activity of mind; for, when I am\nalone, that is, not near one to whom I can open my heart, I sink into\nreveries and trains of thinking, which agitate and fatigue me.\n\nThis is my third letter; when am I to hear from you? I need not tell you,\nI suppose, that I am now writing with somebody in the room with me, and\n---- is waiting to carry this to Mr. ----'s. I will then kiss the girl\nfor you, and bid you adieu.\n\nI desired you, in one of my other letters, to bring back to me your\nbarrier-face--or that you should not be loved by my barrier-girl. I know\nthat you will love her more and more, for she is a little affectionate,\nintelligent creature, with as much vivacity, I should think, as you could\nwish for.\n\nI was going to tell you of two or three things which displease me here;\nbut they are not of sufficient consequence to interrupt pleasing\nsensations. I have received a letter from Mr. ----. I want you to bring\n---- with you. Madame S---- is by me, reading a German translation of your\nletters--she desires me to give her love to you, on account of what you\nsay of the negroes.\n\n  Yours most affectionately,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXV",
    "body": "_Paris, Sept. 28 [1794]._\n\nI have written to you three or four letters; but different causes have\nprevented my sending them by the persons who promised to take or forward\nthem. The inclosed is one I wrote to go by B----; yet, finding that he\nwill not arrive, before I hope, and believe, you will have set out on your\nreturn, I inclose it to you, and shall give it in charge to ----, as Mr.\n---- is detained, to whom I also gave a letter.\n\nI cannot help being anxious to hear from you; but I shall not harrass you\nwith accounts of inquietudes, or of cares that arise from peculiar\ncircumstances.--I have had so many little plagues here, that I have almost\nlamented that I left Havre. ----, who is at best a most helpless creature,\nis now, on account of her pregnancy, more trouble than use to me, so that\nI still continue to be almost a slave to the child.--She indeed rewards\nme, for she is a sweet little creature; for, setting aside a mother's\nfondness (which, by the bye, is growing on me, her little intelligent\nsmiles sinking into my heart), she has an astonishing degree of\nsensibility and observation. The other day by B----'s child, a fine one,\nshe looked like a little sprite.--She is all life and motion, and her eyes\nare not the eyes of a fool--I will swear.\n\nI slept at St. Germain's, in the very room (if you have not forgot) in\nwhich you pressed me very tenderly to your heart.--I did not forget to\nfold my darling to mine, with sensations that are almost too sacred to be\nalluded to.\n\nAdieu, my love! Take care of yourself, if you wish to be the protector of\nyour child, and the comfort of her mother.\n\nI have received, for you, letters from ----. I want to hear how that\naffair finishes, though I do not know whether I have most contempt for his\nfolly or knavery.\n\n  Your own\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXVI",
    "body": "_[Paris] October 1 [1794]._\n\nIt is a heartless task to write letters, without knowing whether they will\never reach you.--I have given two to ----, who has been a-going, a-going,\nevery day, for a week past; and three others, which were written in a\nlow-spirited strain, a little querulous or so, I have not been able to\nforward by the opportunities that were mentioned to me. _Tant mieux!_ you\nwill say, and I will not say nay; for I should be sorry that the contents\nof a letter, when you are so far away, should damp the pleasure that the\nsight of it would afford--judging of your feelings by my own. I just now\nstumbled on one of the kind letters, which you wrote during your last\nabsence. You are then a dear affectionate creature, and I will not plague\nyou. The letter which you chance to receive, when the absence is so long,\nought to bring only tears of tenderness, without any bitter alloy, into\nyour eyes.\n\nAfter your return I hope indeed, that you will not be so immersed in\nbusiness, as during the last three or four months past--for even money,\ntaking into the account all the future comforts it is to procure, may be\ngained at too dear a rate, if painful impressions are left on the\nmind.--These impressions were much more lively, soon after you went away,\nthan at present--for a thousand tender recollections efface the melancholy\ntraces they left on my mind--and every emotion is on the same side as my\nreason, which always was on yours.--Separated, it would be almost impious\nto dwell on real or imaginary imperfections of character.--I feel that I\nlove you; and, if I cannot be happy with you, I will seek it no where\nelse.\n\nMy little darling grows every day more dear to me--and she often has a\nkiss, when we are alone together, which I give her for you, with all my\nheart.\n\nI have been interrupted--and must send off my letter. The liberty of the\npress will produce a great effect here--the _cry of blood will not be\nvain_!--Some more monsters will perish--and the Jacobins are\nconquered.--Yet I almost fear the last flap of the tail of the beast.\n\nI have had several trifling teazing inconveniences here, which I shall not\nnow trouble you with a detail of.--I am sending ---- back; her pregnancy\nrendered her useless. The girl I have got has more vivacity, which is\nbetter for the child.\n\nI long to hear from you.--Bring a copy of ---- and ---- with you.\n\n---- is still here: he is a lost man.--He really loves his wife, and is\nanxious about his children; but his indiscriminate hospitality and social\nfeelings have given him an inveterate habit of drinking, that destroys his\nhealth, as well as renders his person disgusting.--If his wife had more\nsense, or delicacy, she might restrain him: as it is, nothing will save\nhim.\n\n  Yours most truly and affectionately\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXVII",
    "body": "_[Paris] October 26 [1794]._\n\nMy dear love, I began to wish so earnestly to hear from you, that the\nsight of your letters occasioned such pleasurable emotions, I was obliged\nto throw them aside till the little girl and I were alone together; and\nthis said little girl, our darling, is become a most intelligent little\ncreature, and as gay as a lark, and that in the morning too, which I do\nnot find quite so convenient. I once told you, that the sensations before\nshe was born, and when she is sucking, were pleasant; but they do not\ndeserve to be compared to the emotions I feel, when she stops to smile\nupon me, or laughs outright on meeting me unexpectedly in the street, or\nafter a short absence. She has now the advantage of having two good\nnurses, and I am at present able to discharge my duty to her, without\nbeing the slave of it.\n\nI have therefore employed and amused myself since I got rid of ----, and\nam making a progress in the language amongst other things. I have also\nmade some new acquaintance. I have almost _charmed_ a judge of the\ntribunal, R----, who, though I should not have thought it possible, has\nhumanity, if not _beaucoup d'esprit_. But let me tell you, if you do not\nmake haste back, I shall be half in love with the author of the\n_Marseillaise_, who is a handsome man, a little too broad-faced or so, and\nplays sweetly on the violin.\n\nWhat do you say to this threat?--why, _entre nous_, I like to give way to\na sprightly vein, when writing to you, that is, when I am pleased with\nyou. \"The devil,\" you know, is proverbially said to be \"in a good humour,\nwhen he is pleased.\" Will you not then be a good boy, and come back\nquickly to play with your girls? but I shall not allow you to love the\nnew-comer best.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMy heart longs for your return, my love, and only looks for, and seeks\nhappiness with you; yet do not imagine that I childishly wish you to come\nback, before you have arranged things in such a manner, that it will not\nbe necessary for you to leave us soon again, or to make exertions which\ninjure your constitution.\n\n  Yours most truly and tenderly,\n    MARY.\n\nP.S. You would oblige me by delivering the inclosed to Mr. ----, and pray\ncall for an answer.--It is for a person uncomfortably situated.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXVIII",
    "body": "_[Paris] Dec. 26 [1794]._\n\nI have been, my love, for some days tormented by fears, that I would not\nallow to assume a form--I had been expecting you daily--and I heard that\nmany vessels had been driven on shore during the late gale.--Well, I now\nsee your letter--and find that you are safe; I will not regret then that\nyour exertions have hitherto been so unavailing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBe that as it may, return to me when you have arranged the other matters,\nwhich ---- has been crowding on you. I want to be sure that you are\nsafe--and not separated from me by a sea that must be passed. For, feeling\nthat I am happier than I ever was, do you wonder at my sometimes dreading\nthat fate has not done persecuting me? Come to me, my dearest friend,\nhusband, father of my child!--All these fond ties glow at my heart at this\nmoment, and dim my eyes.--With you an independence is desirable; and it is\nalways within our reach, if affluence escapes us--without you the world\nagain appears empty to me. But I am recurring to some of the melancholy\nthoughts that have flitted across my mind for some days past, and haunted\nmy dreams.\n\nMy little darling is indeed a sweet child; and I am sorry that you are not\nhere, to see her little mind unfold itself. You talk of \"dalliance;\" but\ncertainly no lover was ever more attached to his mistress, than she is to\nme. Her eyes follow me every where, and by affection I have the most\ndespotic power over her. She is all vivacity or softness--yes; I love her\nmore than I thought I should. When I have been hurt at your stay, I have\nembraced her as my only comfort--when pleased with you, for looking and\nlaughing like you; nay, I cannot, I find, long be angry with you, whilst I\nam kissing her for resembling you. But there would be no end to these\ndetails. Fold us both to your heart; for I am truly and affectionately\n\n  Yours,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXIX",
    "body": "_[Paris] December 28 [1794]._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI do, my love, indeed sincerely sympathize with you in all your\ndisappointments.--Yet, knowing that you are well, and think of me with\naffection, I only lament other disappointments, because I am sorry that\nyou should thus exert yourself in vain, and that you are kept from me.\n\n----, I know, urges you to stay, and is continually branching out into new\nprojects, because he has the idle desire to amass a large fortune, rather\nan immense one, merely to have the credit of having made it. But we who\nare governed by other motives, ought not to be led on by him. When we\nmeet, we will discuss this subject--You will listen to reason, and it has\nprobably occurred to you, that it will be better, in future, to pursue\nsome sober plan, which may demand more time, and still enable you to\narrive at the same end. It appears to me absurd to waste life in preparing\nto live.\n\nWould it not now be possible to arrange your business in such a manner as\nto avoid the inquietudes, of which I have had my share since your\ndeparture? Is it not possible to enter into business, as an employment\nnecessary to keep the faculties awake, and (to sink a little in the\nexpressions) the pot boiling, without suffering what must ever be\nconsidered as a secondary object, to engross the mind, and drive sentiment\nand affection out of the heart?\n\nI am in a hurry to give this letter to the person who has promised to\nforward it with ----'s. I wish then to counteract, in some measure, what\nhe has doubtless recommended most warmly.\n\nStay, my friend, whilst it is _absolutely_ necessary.--I will give you no\ntenderer name, though it glows at my heart, unless you come the moment the\nsettling the _present_ objects permit.--_I do not consent_ to your taking\nany other journey--or the little woman and I will be off, the Lord knows\nwhere. But, as I had rather owe every thing to your affection, and, I may\nadd, to your reason, (for this immoderate desire of wealth, which makes\n---- so eager to have you remain, is contrary to your principles of\naction), I will not importune you.--I will only tell you, that I long to\nsee you--and, being at peace with you, I shall be hurt, rather than made\nangry, by delays.--Having suffered so much in life, do not be surprised if\nI sometimes, when left to myself, grow gloomy, and suppose that it was all\na dream, and that my happiness is not to last. I say happiness, because\nremembrance retrenches all the dark shades of the picture.\n\nMy little one begins to show her teeth, and use her legs--She wants you to\nbear your part in the nursing business, for I am fatigued with dancing\nher, and yet she is not satisfied--she wants you to thank her mother for\ntaking such care of her, as you only can.\n\n  Yours truly,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXX",
    "body": "_[Paris] December 29 [1794]._\n\nThough I suppose you have later intelligence, yet, as ---- has just\ninformed me that he has an opportunity of sending immediately to you, I\ntake advantage of it to inclose you\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHow I hate this crooked business! This intercourse with the world, which\nobliges one to see the worst side of human nature! Why cannot you be\ncontent with the object you had first in view, when you entered into this\nwearisome labyrinth?--I know very well that you have imperceptibly been\ndrawn on; yet why does one project, successful or abortive, only give\nplace to two others? Is it not sufficient to avoid poverty?--I am\ncontented to do my part; and, even here, sufficient to escape from\nwretchedness is not difficult to obtain. And, let me tell you, I have my\nproject also--and, if you do not soon return, the little girl and I will\ntake care of ourselves; we will not accept any of your cold kindness--your\ndistant civilities--no; not we.\n\nThis is but half jesting, for I am really tormented by the desire which\n---- manifests to have you remain where you are.--Yet why do I talk to\nyou?--If he can persuade you--let him!--for, if you are not happier with\nme, and your own wishes do not make you throw aside these eternal\nprojects, I am above using any arguments, though reason as well as\naffection seems to offer them--if our affection be mutual, they will occur\nto you--and you will act accordingly.\n\nSince my arrival here, I have found the German lady, of whom you have\nheard me speak. Her first child died in the month; but she has another,\nabout the age of my Fanny, a fine little creature. They are still but\ncontriving to live--earning their daily bread--yet, though they are but\njust above poverty, I envy them.--She is a tender, affectionate\nmother--fatigued even by her attention.--However she has an affectionate\nhusband in her turn, to render her care light, and to share her pleasure.\n\nI will own to you that, feeling extreme tenderness for my little girl, I\ngrow sad very often when I am playing with her, that you are not here, to\nobserve with me how her mind unfolds, and her little heart becomes\nattached!--These appear to me to be true pleasures--and still you suffer\nthem to escape you, in search of what we may never enjoy.--It is your own\nmaxim to \"live in the present moment.\"--_If you do_--stay, for God's sake;\nbut tell me the truth--if not, tell me when I may expect to see you, and\nlet me not be always vainly looking for you, till I grow sick at heart.\n\nAdieu! I am a little hurt.--I must take my darling to my bosom to comfort\nme.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXI",
    "body": "_[Paris] December 30 [1794]._\n\nShould you receive three or four of the letters at once which I have\nwritten lately, do not think of Sir John Brute, for I do not mean to wife\nyou. I only take advantage of every occasion, that one out of three of my\nepistles may reach your hands, and inform you that I am not of ----'s\nopinion, who talks till he makes me angry, of the necessity of your\nstaying two or three months longer. I do not like this life of continual\ninquietude--and, _entre nous_, I am determined to try to earn some money\nhere myself, in order to convince you that, if you chuse to run about the\nworld to get a fortune, it is for yourself--for the little girl and I will\nlive without your assistance, unless you are with us. I may be termed\nproud--Be it so--but I will never abandon certain principles of action.\n\nThe common run of men have such an ignoble way of thinking, that, if they\ndebauch their hearts, and prostitute their persons, following perhaps a\ngust of inebriation, they suppose the wife, slave rather, whom they\nmaintain, has no right to complain, and ought to receive the sultan,\nwhenever he deigns to return, with open arms, though his have been\npolluted by half an hundred promiscuous amours during his absence.\n\nI consider fidelity and constancy as two distinct things; yet the former\nis necessary, to give life to the other--and such a degree of respect do I\nthink due to myself, that, if only probity, which is a good thing in its\nplace, brings you back, never return!--for, if a wandering of the heart,\nor even a caprice of the imagination detains you--there is an end of all\nmy hopes of happiness--I could not forgive it, if I would.\n\nI have gotten into a melancholy mood, you perceive. You know my opinion of\nmen in general; you know that I think them systematic tyrants, and that it\nis the rarest thing in the world, to meet with a man with sufficient\ndelicacy of feeling to govern desire. When I am thus sad, I lament that my\nlittle darling, fondly as I doat on her, is a girl.--I am sorry to have a\ntie to a world that for me is ever sown with thorns.\n\nYou will call this an ill-humoured letter, when, in fact, it is the\nstrongest proof of affection I can give, to dread to lose you. ---- has\ntaken such pains to convince me that you must and ought to stay, that it\nhas inconceivably depressed my spirits--You have always known my\nopinion--I have ever declared, that two people, who mean to live together,\nought not to be long separated.--If certain things are more necessary to\nyou than me--search for them--Say but one word, and you shall never hear\nof me more.--If not--for God's sake, let us struggle with poverty--with\nany evil, but these continual inquietudes of business, which I have been\ntold were to last but a few months, though every day the end appears more\ndistant! This is the first letter in this strain that I have determined to\nforward to you; the rest lie by, because I was unwilling to give you pain,\nand I should not now write, if I did not think that there would be no\nconclusion to the schemes, which demand, as I am told, your presence.\n\n  MARY.[9]",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXII",
    "body": "_[Paris] January 9 [1795]._\n\nI just now received one of your hasty _notes_; for business so entirely\noccupies you, that you have not time, or sufficient command of thought, to\nwrite letters. Beware! you seem to be got into a whirl of projects and\nschemes, which are drawing you into a gulph, that, if it do not absorb\nyour happiness, will infallibly destroy mine.\n\nFatigued during my youth by the most arduous struggles, not only to obtain\nindependence, but to render myself useful, not merely pleasure, for which\nI had the most lively taste, I mean the simple pleasures that flow from\npassion and affection, escaped me, but the most melancholy views of life\nwere impressed by a disappointed heart on my mind. Since I knew you, I\nhave been endeavouring to go back to my former nature, and have allowed\nsome time to glide away, winged with the delight which only spontaneous\nenjoyment can give.--Why have you so soon dissolved the charm.\n\nI am really unable to bear the continual inquietude which your and ----'s\nnever-ending plans produce. This you may term want of firmness--but you\nare mistaken--I have still sufficient firmness to pursue my principle of\naction. The present misery, I cannot find a softer word to do justice to\nmy feelings, appears to me unnecessary--and therefore I have not firmness\nto support it as you may think I ought. I should have been content, and\nstill wish, to retire with you to a farm--My God! any thing, but these\ncontinual anxieties--any thing but commerce, which debases the mind, and\nroots out affection from the heart.\n\nI do not mean to complain of subordinate inconveniences----yet I will\nsimply observe, that, led to expect you every week, I did not make the\narrangements required by the present circumstances, to procure the\nnecessaries of life. In order to have them, a servant, for that purpose\nonly, is indispensible--The want of wood, has made me catch the most\nviolent cold I ever had; and my head is so disturbed by continual\ncoughing, that I am unable to write without stopping frequently to\nrecollect myself.--This however is one of the common evils which must be\nborne with----bodily pain does not touch the heart, though it fatigues the\nspirits.\n\nStill as you talk of your return, even in February, doubtingly, I have\ndetermined, the moment the weather changes, to wean my child.--It is too\nsoon for her to begin to divide sorrow!--And as one has well said,\n\"despair is a freeman,\" we will go and seek our fortune together.\n\nThis is not a caprice of the moment--for your absence has given new\nweight to some conclusions, that I was very reluctantly forming before you\nleft me.--I do not chuse to be a secondary object.--If your feelings were\nin unison with mine, you would not sacrifice so much to visionary\nprospects of future advantage.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXIII",
    "body": "_[Paris] Jan. 15 [1795]._\n\nI was just going to begin my letter with the fag end of a song, which\nwould only have told you, what I may as well say simply, that it is\npleasant to forgive those we love. I have received your two letters, dated\nthe 26th and 28th of December, and my anger died away. You can scarcely\nconceive the effect some of your letters have produced on me. After\nlonging to hear from you during a tedious interval of suspense, I have\nseen a superscription written by you.--Promising myself pleasure, and\nfeeling emotion, I have laid it by me, till the person who brought it,\nleft the room--when, behold! on opening it, I have found only half a dozen\nhasty lines, that have damped all the rising affection of my soul.\n\nWell, now for business--\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMy animal is well; I have not yet taught her to eat, but nature is doing\nthe business. I gave her a crust to assist the cutting of her teeth; and\nnow she has two, she makes good use of them to gnaw a crust, biscuit, &c.\nYou would laugh to see her; she is just like a little squirrel; she will\nguard a crust for two hours; and, after fixing her eye on an object for\nsome time, dart on it with an aim as sure as a bird of prey--nothing can\nequal her life and spirits. I suffer from a cold; but it does not affect\nher. Adieu! do not forget to love us--and come soon to tell us that you\ndo.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXIV",
    "body": "_[Paris] Jan. 30 [1795]._\n\nFrom the purport of your last letters, I should suppose that this will\nscarcely reach you; and I have already written so many letters, that you\nhave either not received, or neglected to acknowledge, I do not find it\npleasant, or rather I have no inclination, to go over the same ground\nagain. If you have received them, and are still detained by new projects,\nit is useless for me to say any more on the subject. I have done with it\nfor ever; yet I ought to remind you that your pecuniary interest suffers\nby your absence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor my part, my head is turned giddy, by only hearing of plans to make\nmoney, and my contemptuous feelings have sometimes burst out. I therefore\nwas glad that a violent cold gave me a pretext to stay at home, lest I\nshould have uttered unseasonable truths.\n\nMy child is well, and the spring will perhaps restore me to myself.--I\nhave endured many inconveniences this winter, which should I be ashamed to\nmention, if they had been unavoidable. \"The secondary pleasures of life,\"\nyou say, \"are very necessary to my comfort:\" it may be so; but I have ever\nconsidered them as secondary. If therefore you accuse me of wanting the\nresolution necessary to bear the _common_[10] evils of life; I should\nanswer, that I have not fashioned my mind to sustain them, because I would\navoid them, cost what it would----\n\nAdieu!\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXV",
    "body": "_[Paris] February 9 [1795]._\n\nThe melancholy presentiment has for some time hung on my spirits, that we\nwere parted for ever; and the letters I received this day, by Mr. ----,\nconvince me that it was not without foundation. You allude to some other\nletters, which I suppose have miscarried; for most of those I have got,\nwere only a few hasty lines, calculated to wound the tenderness the sight\nof the superscriptions excited.\n\nI mean not however to complain; yet so many feelings are struggling for\nutterance, and agitating a heart almost bursting with anguish, that I find\nit very difficult to write with any degree of coherence.\n\nYou left me indisposed, though you have taken no notice of it; and the\nmost fatiguing journey I ever had, contributed to continue it. However, I\nrecovered my health; but a neglected cold, and continual inquietude during\nthe last two months, have reduced me to a state of weakness I never before\nexperienced. Those who did not know that the canker-worm was at work at\nthe core, cautioned me about suckling my child too long.--God preserve\nthis poor child, and render her happier than her mother!\n\nBut I am wandering from my subject: indeed my head turns giddy, when I\nthink that all the confidence I have had in the affection of others is\ncome to this.--I did not expect this blow from you. I have done my duty to\nyou and my child; and if I am not to have any return of affection to\nreward me, I have the sad consolation of knowing that I deserved a better\nfate. My soul is weary--I am sick at heart; and, but for this little\ndarling, I would cease to care about a life, which is now stripped of\nevery charm.\n\nYou see how stupid I am, uttering declamation, when I meant simply to tell\nyou, that I consider your requesting me to come to you, as merely dictated\nby honour.--Indeed, I scarcely understand you.--You request me to come,\nand then tell me, that you have not given up all thoughts of returning to\nthis place.\n\nWhen I determined to live with you, I was only governed by affection.--I\nwould share poverty with you, but I turn with affright from the sea of\ntrouble on which you are entering.--I have certain principles of action: I\nknow what I look for to found my happiness on.--It is not money.--With you\nI wished for sufficient to procure the comforts of life--as it is, less\nwill do.--I can still exert myself to obtain the necessaries of life for\nmy child, and she does not want more at present.--I have two or three\nplans in my head to earn our subsistence; for do not suppose that,\nneglected by you, I will lie under obligations of a pecuniary kind to\nyou!--No; I would sooner submit to menial service.--I wanted the support\nof your affection--that gone, all is over!--I did not think, when I\ncomplained of ----'s contemptible avidity to accumulate money, that he\nwould have dragged you into his schemes.\n\nI cannot write.--I inclose a fragment of a letter, written soon after your\ndeparture, and another which tenderness made me keep back when it was\nwritten.--You will see then the sentiments of a calmer, though not a more\ndetermined, moment.--Do not insult me by saying, that \"our being together\nis paramount to every other consideration!\" Were it, you would not be\nrunning after a bubble, at the expence of my peace of mind.\n\nPerhaps this is the last letter you will ever receive from me.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXVI",
    "body": "_[Paris] Feb. 10 [1795]._\n\nYou talk of \"permanent views and future comfort\"--not for me, for I am\ndead to hope. The inquietudes of the last winter have finished the\nbusiness, and my heart is not only broken, but my constitution destroyed.\nI conceive myself in a galloping consumption, and the continual anxiety I\nfeel at the thought of leaving my child, feeds the fever that nightly\ndevours me. It is on her account that I again write to you, to conjure\nyou, by all that you hold sacred, to leave her here with the German lady\nyou may have heard me mention! She has a child of the same age, and they\nmay be brought up together, as I wish her to be brought up. I shall write\nmore fully on the subject. To facilitate this, I shall give up my present\nlodgings, and go into the same house. I can live much cheaper there,\nwhich is now become an object. I have had 3000 livres from ----, and I\nshall take one more, to pay my servant's wages, &c. and then I shall\nendeavour to procure what I want by my own exertions. I shall entirely\ngive up the acquaintance of the Americans.\n\n---- and I have not been on good terms a long time. Yesterday he very\nunmanlily exulted over me, on account of your determination to stay. I had\nprovoked it, it is true, by some asperities against commerce, which have\ndropped from me, when we have argued about the propriety of your remaining\nwhere you are; and it is no matter, I have drunk too deep of the bitter\ncup to care about trifles.\n\nWhen you first entered into these plans, you bounded your views to the\ngaining of a thousand pounds. It was sufficient to have procured a farm in\nAmerica, which would have been an independence. You find now that you did\nnot know yourself, and that a certain situation in life is more necessary\nto you than you imagined--more necessary than an uncorrupted heart--For a\nyear or two, you may procure yourself what you call pleasure; eating,\ndrinking, and women; but in the solitude of declining life, I shall be\nremembered with regret--I was going to say with remorse, but checked my\npen.\n\nAs I have never concealed the nature of my connection with you, your\nreputation will not suffer. I shall never have a confident: I am content\nwith the approbation of my own mind; and, if there be a searcher of\nhearts, mine will not be despised. Reading what you have written relative\nto the desertion of women, I have often wondered how theory and practice\ncould be so different, till I recollected, that the sentiments of passion,\nand the resolves of reason, are very distinct. As to my sisters, as you\nare so continually hurried with business, you need not write to them--I\nshall, when my mind is calmer. God bless you! Adieu!\n\n  MARY.\n\nThis has been such a period of barbarity and misery, I ought not to\ncomplain of having my share. I wish one moment that I had never heard of\nthe cruelties that have been practised here, and the next envy the mothers\nwho have been killed with their children. Surely I had suffered enough in\nlife, not to be cursed with a fondness, that burns up the vital stream I\nam imparting. You will think me mad: I would I were so, that I could\nforget my misery--so that my head or heart would be still.----",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXVII",
    "body": "_[Paris] Feb. 19 [1795]._\n\nWhen I first received your letter, putting off your return to an\nindefinite time, I felt so hurt, that I know not what I wrote. I am now\ncalmer, though it was not the kind of wound over which time has the\nquickest effect; on the contrary, the more I think, the sadder I grow.\nSociety fatigues me inexpressibly--So much so, that finding fault with\nevery one, I have only reason enough, to discover that the fault is in\nmyself. My child alone interests me, and, but for her, I should not take\nany pains to recover my health.\n\nAs it is, I shall wean her, and try if by that step (to which I feel a\nrepugnance, for it is my only solace) I can get rid of my cough.\nPhysicians talk much of the danger attending any complaint on the lungs,\nafter a woman has suckled for some months. They lay a stress also on the\nnecessity of keeping the mind tranquil--and, my God! how has mine be\nharrassed! But whilst the caprices of other women are gratified, \"the wind\nof heaven not suffered to visit them too rudely,\" I have not found a\nguardian angel, in heaven or on earth, to ward off sorrow or care from my\nbosom.\n\nWhat sacrifices have you not made for a woman you did not respect!--But I\nwill not go over this ground--I want to tell you that I do not understand\nyou. You say that you have not given up all thoughts of returning\nhere--and I know that it will be necessary--nay, is. I cannot explain\nmyself; but if you have not lost your memory, you will easily divine my\nmeaning. What! is our life then only to be made up of separations? and am\nI only to return to a country, that has not merely lost all charms for me,\nbut for which I feel a repugnance that almost amounts to horror, only to\nbe left there a prey to it!\n\nWhy is it so necessary that I should return?--brought up here, my girl\nwould be freer. Indeed, expecting you to join us, I had formed some plans\nof usefulness that have now vanished with my hopes of happiness.\n\nIn the bitterness of my heart, I could complain with reason, that I am\nleft here dependent on a man, whose avidity to acquire a fortune has\nrendered him callous to every sentiment connected with social or\naffectionate emotions.--With a brutal insensibility, he cannot help\ndisplaying the pleasure your determination to stay gives him, in spite of\nthe effect it is visible it has had on me.\n\nTill I can earn money, I shall endeavour to borrow some, for I want to\navoid asking him continually for the sum necessary to maintain me.--Do not\nmistake me, I have never been refused.--Yet I have gone half a dozen times\nto the house to ask for it, and come away without speaking--you must guess\nwhy--Besides, I wish to avoid hearing of the eternal projects to which\nyou have sacrificed my peace--not remembering--but I will be silent for\never.----",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXVIII",
    "body": "_[Havre] April 7 [1795]._\n\nHere I am at Havre, on the wing towards you, and I write now, only to tell\nyou, that you may expect me in the course of three or four days; for I\nshall not attempt to give vent to the different emotions which agitate my\nheart--You may term a feeling, which appears to me to be a degree of\ndelicacy that naturally arises from sensibility, pride--Still I cannot\nindulge the very affectionate tenderness which glows in my bosom, without\ntrembling, till I see, by your eyes, that it is mutual.\n\nI sit, lost in thought, looking at the sea--and tears rush into my eyes,\nwhen I find that I am cherishing any fond expectations.--I have indeed\nbeen so unhappy this winter, I find it as difficult to acquire fresh\nhopes, as to regain tranquillity.--Enough of this--lie still, foolish\nheart!--But for the little girl, I could almost wish that it should cease\nto beat, to be no more alive to the anguish of disappointment.\n\nSweet little creature! I deprived myself of my only pleasure, when I\nweaned her, about ten days ago.--I am however glad I conquered my\nrepugnance.--It was necessary it should be done soon, and I did not wish\nto embitter the renewal of your acquaintance with her, by putting it off\ntill we met.--It was a painful exertion to me, and I thought it best to\nthrow this inquietude with the rest, into the sack that I would fain throw\nover my shoulder.--I wished to endure it alone, in short--Yet, after\nsending her to sleep in the next room for three or four nights, you cannot\nthink with what joy I took her back again to sleep in my bosom!\n\nI suppose I shall find you, when I arrive, for I do not see any necessity\nfor your coming to me.--Pray inform Mr. ----, that I have his little\nfriend with me.--My wishing to oblige him, made me put myself to some\ninconvenience----and delay my departure; which was irksome to me, who have\nnot quite as much philosophy, I would not for the world say indifference,\nas you. God bless you!\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XXXIX",
    "body": "_Brighthelmstone, Saturday, April 11 [1795]._\n\nHere we are, my love, and mean to set out early in the morning; and, if I\ncan find you, I hope to dine with you to-morrow.--I shall drive to ----'s\nhotel, where ---- tells me you have been--and, if you have left it, I hope\nyou will take care to be there to receive us.\n\nI have brought with me Mr. ----'s little friend, and a girl whom I like to\ntake care of our little darling--not on the way, for that fell to my\nshare.--But why do I write about trifles?--or any thing?--Are we not to\nmeet soon?--What does your heart say?\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.\n\nI have weaned my Fanny, and she is now eating away at the white bread.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XL",
    "body": "_[26 Charlotte Street, Rathbone Place]\n  London, Friday, May 22 [1795]._\n\nI have just received your affectionate letter, and am distressed to think\nthat I have added to your embarrassments at this troublesome juncture,\nwhen the exertion of all the faculties of your mind appears to be\nnecessary, to extricate you out of your pecuniary difficulties. I suppose\nit was something relative to the circumstance you have mentioned, which\nmade ---- request to see me to-day, to _converse about a matter of great\nimportance_. Be that as it may, his letter (such is the state of my\nspirits) inconceivably alarmed me, and rendered the last night as\ndistressing, as the two former had been.\n\nI have laboured to calm my mind since you left me--Still I find that\ntranquillity is not to be obtained by exertion; it is a feeling so\ndifferent from the resignation of despair!--I am however no longer angry\nwith you--nor will I ever utter another complaint--there are arguments\nwhich convince the reason, whilst they carry death to the heart.--We have\nhad too many cruel explanations, that not only cloud every future\nprospect; but embitter the remembrances which alone give life to\naffection.--Let the subject never be revived!\n\nIt seems to me that I have not only lost the hope, but the power of\nbeing happy.--Every emotion is now sharpened by anguish.--My soul has been\nshook, and my tone of feelings destroyed.--I have gone out--and sought for\ndissipation, if not amusement, merely to fatigue still more, I find, my\nirritable nerves----\n\nMy friend--my dear friend--examine yourself well--I am out of the\nquestion; for, alas! I am nothing--and discover what you wish to do--what\nwill render you most comfortable--or, to be more explicit--whether you\ndesire to live with me, or part for ever? When you can once ascertain it,\ntell me frankly, I conjure you!--for, believe me, I have very\ninvoluntarily interrupted your peace.\n\nI shall expect you to dinner on Monday, and will endeavour to assume a\ncheerful face to greet you--at any rate I will avoid conversations, which\nonly tend to harrass your feelings, because I am most affectionately\nyours,\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLI",
    "body": "_[May 27, 1795] Wednesday._\n\nI inclose you the letter, which you desired me to forward, and I am\ntempted very laconically to wish you a good morning--not because I am\nangry, or have nothing to say; but to keep down a wounded spirit.--I shall\nmake every effort to calm my mind--yet a strong conviction seems to whirl\nround in the very centre of my brain, which, like the fiat of fate,\nemphatically assures me, that grief has a firm hold of my heart.\n\nGod bless you!\n\n  Yours sincerely,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLII",
    "body": "_[Hull] Wednesday, Two o'Clock\n  [May 27, 1795]._\n\nWe arrived here about an hour ago. I am extremely fatigued with the\nchild, who would not rest quiet with any body but me, during the\nnight--and now we are here in a comfortless, damp room, in a sort of a\ntomb-like house. This however I shall quickly remedy, for, when I have\nfinished this letter, (which I must do immediately, because the post goes\nout early), I shall sally forth, and enquire about a vessel and an inn.\n\nI will not distress you by talking of the depression of my spirits, or the\nstruggle I had to keep alive my dying heart.--It is even now too full to\nallow me to write with composure.--Imlay,--dear Imlay,--am I always to be\ntossed about thus?--shall I never find an asylum to rest _contented_ in?\nHow can you love to fly about continually--dropping down, as it were, in a\nnew world--cold and strange!--every other day? Why do you not attach those\ntender emotions round the idea of home, which even now dim my eyes?--This\nalone is affection--every thing else is only humanity, electrified by\nsympathy.\n\nI will write to you again to-morrow, when I know how long I am to be\ndetained--and hope to get a letter quickly from you, to cheer yours\nsincerely and affectionately\n\n  MARY.\n\nFanny is playing near me in high spirits. She was so pleased with the\nnoise of the mail-horn, she has been continually imitating it.----Adieu!",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLIII",
    "body": "_[Hull, May 28, 1795] Thursday._\n\nA lady has just sent to offer to take me to Beverley. I have then only a\nmoment to exclaim against the vague manner in which people give\ninformation\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut why talk of inconveniences, which are in fact trifling, when compared\nwith the sinking of the heart I have felt! I did not intend to touch this\npainful string--God bless you!\n\n  Yours truly,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLIV",
    "body": "_[Hull] Friday, June 12 [1795]._\n\nI have just received yours dated the 9th, which I suppose was a mistake,\nfor it could scarcely have loitered so long on the road. The general\nobservations which apply to the state of your own mind, appear to me just,\nas far as they go; and I shall always consider it as one of the most\nserious misfortunes of my life, that I did not meet you, before satiety\nhad rendered your senses so fastidious, as almost to close up every tender\navenue of sentiment and affection that leads to your sympathetic heart.\nYou have a heart, my friend, yet, hurried away by the impetuosity of\ninferior feelings, you have sought in vulgar excesses, for that\ngratification which only the heart can bestow.\n\nThe common run of men, I know, with strong health and gross appetites,\nmust have variety to banish _ennui_, because the imagination never lends\nits magic wand, to convert appetite into love, cemented by according\nreason.--Ah! my friend, you know not the ineffable delight, the exquisite\npleasure, which arises from a unison of affection and desire, when the\nwhole soul and senses are abandoned to a lively imagination, that renders\nevery emotion delicate and rapturous. Yes; these are emotions, over which\nsatiety has no power, and the recollection of which, even disappointment\ncannot disenchant; but they do not exist without self-denial. These\nemotions, more or less strong, appear to me to be the distinctive\ncharacteristic of genius, the foundation of taste, and of that exquisite\nrelish for the beauties of nature, of which the common herd of eaters and\ndrinkers and _child-begeters_, certainly have no idea. You will smile at\nan observation that has just occurred to me:--I consider those minds as\nthe most strong and original, whose imagination acts as the stimulus to\ntheir senses.\n\nWell! you will ask, what is the result of all this reasoning? Why I cannot\nhelp thinking that it is possible for you, having great strength of mind,\nto return to nature, and regain a sanity of constitution, and purity of\nfeeling--which would open your heart to me.--I would fain rest there!\n\nYet, convinced more than ever of the sincerity and tenderness of my\nattachment to you, the involuntary hopes, which a determination to live\nhas revived, are not sufficiently strong to dissipate the cloud, that\ndespair has spread over futurity. I have looked at the sea, and at my\nchild, hardly daring to own to myself the secret wish, that it might\nbecome our tomb; and that the heart, still so alive to anguish, might\nthere be quieted by death. At this moment ten thousand complicated\nsentiments press for utterance, weigh on my heart, and obscure my sight.\n\nAre we ever to meet again? and will you endeavour to render that meeting\nhappier than the last? Will you endeavour to restrain your caprices, in\norder to give vigour to affection, and to give play to the checked\nsentiments that nature intended should expand your heart? I cannot indeed,\nwithout agony, think of your bosom's being continually contaminated; and\nbitter are the tears which exhaust my eyes, when I recollect why my child\nand I are forced to stray from the asylum, in which, after so many storms,\nI had hoped to rest, smiling at angry fate.--These are not common sorrows;\nnor can you perhaps conceive, how much active fortitude it requires to\nlabour perpetually to blunt the shafts of disappointment.\n\nExamine now yourself, and ascertain whether you can live in something like\na settled stile. Let our confidence in future be unbounded; consider\nwhether you find it necessary to sacrifice me to what you term \"the zest\nof life;\" and, when you have once a clear view of your own motives, of\nyour own incentive to action, do not deceive me!\n\nThe train of thoughts which the writing of this epistle awoke, makes me so\nwretched, that I must take a walk, to rouse and calm my mind. But first,\nlet me tell you, that, if you really wish to promote my happiness, you\nwill endeavour to give me as much as you can of yourself. You have great\nmental energy; and your judgment seems to me so just, that it is only the\ndupe of your inclination in discussing one subject.\n\nThe post does not go out to-day. To-morrow I may write more tranquilly. I\ncannot yet say when the vessel will sail in which I have determined to\ndepart.\n\n\n  _[Hull, June 13, 1795]\n  Saturday Morning._\n\nYour second letter reached me about an hour ago. You were certainly wrong,\nin supposing that I did not mention you with respect; though, without my\nbeing conscious of it, some sparks of resentment may have animated the\ngloom of despair--Yes; with less affection, I should have been more\nrespectful. However the regard which I have for you, is so unequivocal to\nmyself, I imagine that it must be sufficiently obvious to every body else.\nBesides, the only letter I intended for the public eye was to ----, and\nthat I destroyed from delicacy before you saw them, because it was only\nwritten (of course warmly in your praise) to prevent any odium being\nthrown on you.[11]\n\nI am harrassed by your embarrassments, and shall certainly use all my\nefforts, to make the business terminate to your satisfaction in which I am\nengaged.\n\nMy friend--my dearest friend--I feel my fate united to yours by the most\nsacred principles of my soul, and the yearns of--yes, I will say it--a\ntrue, unsophisticated heart.\n\n  Yours most truly\n    MARY.\n\nIf the wind be fair, the captain talks of sailing on Monday; but I am\nafraid I shall be detained some days longer. At any rate, continue to\nwrite, (I want this support) till you are sure I am where I cannot expect\na letter; and, if any should arrive after my departure, a gentleman (not\nMr. ----'s friend, I promise you) from whom I have received great\ncivilities, will send them after me.\n\nDo write by every occasion! I am anxious to hear how your affairs go on;\nand, still more, to be convinced that you are not separating yourself from\nus. For my little darling is calling papa, and adding her parrot\nword--Come, Come! And will you not come, and let us exert ourselves?--I\nshall recover all my energy, when I am convinced that my exertions will\ndraw us more closely together. Once more adieu!",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLV",
    "body": "_[Hull] Sunday, June 14 [1795]._\n\nI rather expected to hear from you to-day--I wish you would not fail to\nwrite to me for a little time, because I am not quite well--Whether I have\nany good sleep or not, I wake in the morning in violent fits of\ntrembling--and, in spite of all my efforts, the child--every\nthing--fatigues me, in which I seek for solace or amusement.\n\nMr. ---- forced on me a letter to a physician of this place; it was\nfortunate, for I should otherwise have had some difficulty to obtain the\nnecessary information. His wife is a pretty woman (I can admire, you know,\na pretty woman, when I am alone) and he an intelligent and rather\ninteresting man.--They have behaved to me with great hospitality; and poor\nFanny was never so happy in her life, as amongst their young brood.\n\nThey took me in their carriage to Beverley, and I ran over my favourite\nwalks, with a vivacity that would have astonished you.--The town did not\nplease me quite so well as formerly--It appeared so diminutive; and, when\nI found that many of the inhabitants had lived in the same houses ever\nsince I left it, I could not help wondering how they could thus have\nvegetated, whilst I was running over a world of sorrow, snatching at\npleasure, and throwing off prejudices. The place where I at present am, is\nmuch improved; but it is astonishing what strides aristocracy and\nfanaticism have made, since I resided in this country.\n\nThe wind does not appear inclined to change, so I am still forced to\nlinger--When do you think that you shall be able to set out for France? I\ndo not entirely like the aspect of your affairs, and still less your\nconnections on either side of the water. Often do I sigh, when I think of\nyour entanglements in business, and your extreme restlessness of\nmind.--Even now I am almost afraid to ask you, whether the pleasure of\nbeing free, does not overbalance the pain you felt at parting with me?\nSometimes I indulge the hope that you will feel me necessary to you--or\nwhy should we meet again?--but, the moment after, despair damps my rising\nspirits, aggravated by the emotions of tenderness, which ought to soften\nthe cares of life.----God bless you!\n\n  Yours sincerely and affectionately\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLVI",
    "body": "_[Hull] June 15 [1795]._\n\nI want to know how you have settled with respect to ----. In short, be\nvery particular in your account of all your affairs--let our confidence,\nmy dear, be unbounded.--The last time we were separated, was a separation\nindeed on your part--Now you have acted more ingenuously, let the most\naffectionate interchange of sentiments fill up the aching void of\ndisappointment. I almost dread that your plans will prove abortive--yet\nshould the most unlucky turn send you home to us, convinced that a true\nfriend is a treasure, I should not much mind having to struggle with the\nworld again. Accuse me not of pride--yet sometimes, when nature has opened\nmy heart to its author, I have wondered that you did not set a higher\nvalue on my heart.\n\nReceive a kiss from Fanny, I was going to add, if you will not take one\nfrom me, and believe me yours\n\n  Sincerely\n    MARY.\n\nThe wind still continues in the same quarter.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLVII",
    "body": "_[Hull, June, 1795] Tuesday Morning._\n\nThe captain has just sent to inform me, that I must be on board in the\ncourse of a few hours.--I wished to have stayed till to-morrow. It would\nhave been a comfort to me to have received another letter from you--Should\none arrive, it will be sent after me.\n\nMy spirits are agitated, I scarcely know why----The quitting England seems\nto be a fresh parting.--Surely you will not forget me.--A thousand weak\nforebodings assault my soul, and the state of my health renders me\nsensible to every thing. It is surprising that in London, in a continual\nconflict of mind, I was still growing better--whilst here, bowed down by\nthe despotic hand of fate, forced into resignation by despair, I seem to\nbe fading away--perishing beneath a cruel blight, that withers up all my\nfaculties.\n\nThe child is perfectly well. My hand seems unwilling to add adieu! I know\nnot why this inexpressible sadness has taken possession of me.--It is not\na presentiment of ill. Yet, having been so perpetually the sport of\ndisappointment,--having a heart that has been as it were a mark for\nmisery, I dread to meet wretchedness in some new shape.--Well, let it\ncome--I care not!--what have I to dread, who have so little to hope for!\nGod bless you--I am most affectionately and sincerely yours\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLVIII",
    "body": "_[June 17, 1795] Wednesday Morning._\n\nI was hurried on board yesterday about three o'clock, the wind having\nchanged. But before evening it veered round to the old point; and here we\nare, in the midst of mists and water, only taking advantage of the tide to\nadvance a few miles.\n\nYou will scarcely suppose that I left the town with reluctance--yet it was\neven so--for I wished to receive another letter from you, and I felt pain\nat parting, for ever perhaps, from the amiable family, who had treated me\nwith so much hospitality and kindness. They will probably send me your\nletter, if it arrives this morning; for here we are likely to remain, I am\nafraid to think how long.\n\nThe vessel is very commodious, and the captain a civil, open-hearted kind\nof man. There being no other passengers, I have the cabin to myself,\nwhich is pleasant; and I have brought a few books with me to beguile\nweariness; but I seem inclined, rather to employ the dead moments of\nsuspence in writing some effusions, than in reading.\n\nWhat are you about? How are your affairs going on? It may be a long time\nbefore you answer these questions. My dear friend, my heart sinks within\nme!--Why am I forced thus to struggle continually with my affections and\nfeelings?--Ah! why are those affections and feelings the source of so much\nmisery, when they seem to have been given to vivify my heart, and extend\nmy usefulness! But I must not dwell on this subject.--Will you not\nendeavour to cherish all the affection you can for me? What am I\nsaying?--Rather forget me, if you can--if other gratifications are dearer\nto you.--How is every remembrance of mine embittered by disappointment?\nWhat a world is this!--They only seem happy, who never look beyond\nsensual or artificial enjoyments.--Adieu!\n\nFanny begins to play with the cabin-boy, and is as gay as a lark.--I will\nlabour to be tranquil; and am in every mood,\n\n  Yours sincerely\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER XLIX",
    "body": "_[June 18, 1795] Thursday._\n\nHere I am still--and I have just received your letter of Monday by the\npilot, who promised to bring it to me, if we were detained, as he\nexpected, by the wind.--It is indeed wearisome to be thus tossed about\nwithout going forward.--I have a violent headache--yet I am obliged to\ntake care of the child, who is a little tormented by her teeth, because\n---- is unable to do any thing, she is rendered so sick by the motion of\nthe ship, as we ride at anchor.\n\nThese are however trifling inconveniences, compared with anguish of\nmind--compared with the sinking of a broken heart.--To tell you the truth,\nI never suffered in my life so much from depression of spirits--from\ndespair.--I do not sleep--or, if I close my eyes, it is to have the most\nterrifying dreams, in which I often meet you with different casts of\ncountenance.\n\nI will not, my dear Imlay, torment you by dwelling on my sufferings--and\nwill use all my efforts to calm my mind, instead of deadening it--at\npresent it is most painfully active. I find I am not equal to these\ncontinual struggles--yet your letter this morning has afforded me some\ncomfort--and I will try to revive hope. One thing let me tell you--when we\nmeet again--surely we are to meet!--it must be to part no more. I mean not\nto have seas between us--it is more than I can support.\n\nThe pilot is hurrying me--God bless you.\n\nIn spite of the commodiousness of the vessel, every thing here would\ndisgust my senses, had I nothing else to think of--\"When the mind's free,\nthe body's delicate;\"--mine has been too much hurt to regard trifles.\n\n  Yours most truly\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER L",
    "body": "_[June 20, 1795] Saturday._\n\nThis is the fifth dreary day I have been imprisoned by the wind, with\nevery outward object to disgust the senses, and unable to banish the\nremembrances that sadden my heart.\n\nHow am I altered by disappointment!--When going to Lisbon, ten years ago,\nthe elasticity of my mind was sufficient to ward off weariness--and the\nimagination still could dip her brush in the rainbow of fancy, and sketch\nfuturity in smiling colours. Now I am going towards the North in search\nof sunbeams!--Will any ever warm this desolated heart? All nature seems to\nfrown--or rather mourn with me.--Every thing is cold--cold as my\nexpectations! Before I left the shore, tormented, as I now am, by these\nNorth east _chillers_, I could not help exclaiming--Give me, gracious\nHeaven! at least, genial weather, if I am never to meet the genial\naffection that still warms this agitated bosom--compelling life to linger\nthere.\n\nI am now going on shore with the captain, though the weather be rough, to\nseek for milk, &c. at a little village, and to take a walk--after which I\nhope to sleep--for, confined here, surrounded by disagreeable smells, I\nhave lost the little appetite I had; and I lie awake, till thinking almost\ndrives me to the brink of madness--only to the brink, for I never forget,\neven in the feverish slumbers I sometimes fall into, the misery I am\nlabouring to blunt the sense of, by every exertion in my power.\n\nPoor ---- still continues sick, and ---- grows weary when the weather will\nnot allow her to remain on deck.\n\nI hope this will be the last letter I shall write from England to you--are\nyou not tired of this lingering adieu?\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LI",
    "body": "_[Hull, June 21, 1795] Sunday Morning._\n\nThe captain last night, after I had written my letter to you intended to\nbe left at a little village, offered to go to ---- to pass to-day. We had\na troublesome sail--and now I must hurry on board again, for the wind has\nchanged.\n\nI half expected to find a letter from you here. Had you written one\nhaphazard, it would have been kind and considerate--you might have known,\nhad you thought, that the wind would not permit me to depart. These are\nattentions, more grateful to the heart than offers of service--But why do\nI foolishly continue to look for them?\n\nAdieu! adieu! My friend--your friendship is very cold--you see I am\nhurt.--God bless you! I may perhaps be, some time or other, independent in\nevery sense of the word--Ah! there is but one sense of it of consequence.\nI will break or bend this weak heart--yet even now it is full.\n\n  Yours sincerely\n    MARY.\n\nThe child is well; I did not leave her on board.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LII",
    "body": "_[Gothenburg] June 27, Saturday, [1795]._\n\nI arrived in Gothenburg this afternoon, after vainly attempting to land\nat Arendall. I have now but a moment, before the post goes out, to inform\nyou we have got here; though not without considerable difficulty, for we\nwere set ashore in a boat above twenty miles below.\n\nWhat I suffered in the vessel I will not now descant upon--nor mention the\npleasure I received from the sight of the rocky coast.--This morning\nhowever, walking to join the carriage that was to transport us to this\nplace, I fell, without any previous warning, senseless on the rocks--and\nhow I escaped with life I can scarcely guess. I was in a stupour for a\nquarter of an hour; the suffusion of blood at last restored me to my\nsenses--the contusion is great, and my brain confused. The child is well.\n\nTwenty miles ride in the rain, after my accident, has sufficiently\nderanged me--and here I could not get a fire to warm me, or any thing warm\nto eat; the inns are mere stables--I must nevertheless go to bed. For\nGod's sake, let me hear from you immediately, my friend! I am not well,\nand yet you see I cannot die.\n\n  Yours sincerely\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LIII",
    "body": "_[Gothenburg] June 29 [1795]._\n\nI wrote to you by the last post, to inform you of my arrival; and I\nbelieve I alluded to the extreme fatigue I endured on ship-board, owing to\n----'s illness, and the roughness of the weather--I likewise mentioned to\nyou my fall, the effects of which I still feel, though I do not think it\nwill have any serious consequences.\n\n---- will go with me, if I find it necessary to go to ----. The inns here\nare so bad, I was forced to accept of an apartment in his house. I am\noverwhelmed with civilities on all sides, and fatigued with the endeavours\nto amuse me, from which I cannot escape.\n\nMy friend--my friend, I am not well--a deadly weight of sorrow lies\nheavily on my heart. I am again tossed on the troubled billows of life;\nand obliged to cope with difficulties, without being buoyed up by the\nhopes that alone render them bearable. \"How flat, dull, and unprofitable,\"\nappears to me all the bustle into which I see people here so eagerly\nenter! I long every night to go to bed, to hide my melancholy face in my\npillow; but there is a canker-worm in my bosom that never sleeps.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LIV",
    "body": "_[Sweden] July 1 [1795]._\n\nI labour in vain to calm my mind--my soul has been overwhelmed by sorrow\nand disappointment. Every thing fatigues me--this is a life that cannot\nlast long. It is you who must determine with respect to futurity--and,\nwhen you have, I will act accordingly--I mean, we must either resolve to\nlive together, or part for ever, I cannot bear these continual\nstruggles.--But I wish you to examine carefully your own heart and mind;\nand, if you perceive the least chance of being happier without me than\nwith me, or if your inclination leans capriciously to that side, do not\ndissemble; but tell me frankly that you will never see me more. I will\nthen adopt the plan I mentioned to you--for we must either live together,\nor I will be entirely independent.\n\nMy heart is so oppressed, I cannot write with precision--You know however\nthat what I so imperfectly express, are not the crude sentiments of the\nmoment--You can only contribute to my comfort (it is the consolation I am\nin need of) by being with me--and, if the tenderest friendship is of any\nvalue, why will you not look to me for a degree of satisfaction that\nheartless affections cannot bestow?\n\nTell me then, will you determine to meet me at Basle?--I shall, I should\nimagine, be at ---- before the close of August; and, after you settle your\naffairs at Paris, could we not meet there?\n\nGod bless you!\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.\n\nPoor Fanny has suffered during the journey with her teeth.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LV",
    "body": "_[Sweden] July 3 [1795]._\n\nThere was a gloominess diffused through your last letter, the impression\nof which still rests on my mind--though, recollecting how quickly you\nthrow off the forcible feelings of the moment, I flatter myself it has\nlong since given place to your usual cheerfulness.\n\nBelieve me (and my eyes fill with tears of tenderness as I assure you)\nthere is nothing I would not endure in the way of privation, rather than\ndisturb your tranquillity.--If I am fated to be unhappy, I will labour to\nhide my sorrows in my own bosom; and you shall always find me a faithful,\naffectionate friend.\n\nI grow more and more attached to my little girl--and I cherish this\naffection without fear, because it must be a long time before it can\nbecome bitterness of soul.--She is an interesting creature.--On\nship-board, how often as I gazed at the sea, have I longed to bury my\ntroubled bosom in the less troubled deep; asserting with Brutus, \"that the\nvirtue I had followed too far, was merely an empty name!\" and nothing but\nthe sight of her--her playful smiles, which seemed to cling and twine\nround my heart--could have stopped me.\n\nWhat peculiar misery has fallen to my share! To act up to my principles, I\nhave laid the strictest restraint on my very thoughts--yes; not to sully\nthe delicacy of my feelings, I have reined in my imagination; and started\nwith affright from every sensation, (I allude to ----) that stealing with\nbalmy sweetness into my soul, led me to scent from afar the fragrance of\nreviving nature.\n\nMy friend, I have dearly paid for one conviction.--Love, in some minds, is\nan affair of sentiment, arising from the same delicacy of perception (or\ntaste) as renders them alive to the beauties of nature, poetry, &c., alive\nto the charms of those evanescent graces that are, as it were,\nimpalpable--they must be felt, they cannot be described.\n\nLove is a want of my heart. I have examined myself lately with more care\nthan formerly, and find, that to deaden is not to calm the mind--Aiming at\ntranquillity, I have almost destroyed all the energy of my soul--almost\nrooted out what renders it estimable--Yes, I have damped that enthusiasm\nof character, which converts the grossest materials into a fuel, that\nimperceptibly feeds hopes, which aspire above common enjoyment. Despair,\nsince the birth of my child, has rendered me stupid--soul and body seemed\nto be fading away before the withering touch of disappointment.\n\nI am now endeavouring to recover myself--and such is the elasticity of my\nconstitution, and the purity of the atmosphere here, that health unsought\nfor, begins to reanimate my countenance.\n\nI have the sincerest esteem and affection for you--but the desire of\nregaining peace, (do you understand me?) has made me forget the respect\ndue to my own emotions--sacred emotions, that are the sure harbingers of\nthe delights I was formed to enjoy--and shall enjoy, for nothing can\nextinguish the heavenly spark.\n\nStill, when we meet again, I will not torment you, I promise you. I blush\nwhen I recollect my former conduct--and will not in future confound myself\nwith the beings whom I feel to be my inferiors.--I will listen to\ndelicacy, or pride.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LVI",
    "body": "_[Sweden] July 4 [1795]._\n\nI hope to hear from you by to-morrow's mail. My dearest friend! I cannot\ntear my affections from you--and, though every remembrance stings me to\nthe soul, I think of you, till I make allowance for the very defects of\ncharacter, that have given such a cruel stab to my peace.\n\nStill however I am more alive, than you have seen me for a long, long\ntime. I have a degree of vivacity, even in my grief, which is preferable\nto the benumbing stupour that, for the last year, has frozen up all my\nfaculties.--Perhaps this change is more owing to returning health, than to\nthe vigour of my reason--for, in spite of sadness (and surely I have had\nmy share), the purity of this air, and the being continually out in it,\nfor I sleep in the country every night, has made an alteration in my\nappearance that really surprises me.--The rosy fingers of health already\nstreak my cheeks--and I have seen a _physical_ life in my eyes, after I\nhave been climbing the rocks, that resembled the fond, credulous hopes of\nyouth.\n\nWith what a cruel sigh have I recollected that I had forgotten to\nhope!--Reason, or rather experience, does not thus cruelly damp poor\n----'s pleasures; she plays all day in the garden with ----'s children,\nand makes friends for herself.\n\nDo not tell me, that you are happier without us--Will you not come to us\nin Switzerland? Ah, why do not you love us with more sentiment?--why are\nyou a creature of such sympathy, that the warmth of your feelings, or\nrather quickness of your senses, hardens your heart?--It is my\nmisfortune, that my imagination is perpetually shading your defects, and\nlending you charms, whilst the grossness of your senses makes you (call me\nnot vain) overlook graces in me, that only dignity of mind, and the\nsensibility of an expanded heart can give.--God bless you! Adieu.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LVII",
    "body": "_[Sweden] July 7 [1795]._\n\nI could not help feeling extremely mortified last post, at not receiving a\nletter from you. My being at ---- was but a chance, and you might have\nhazarded it; and would a year ago.\n\nI shall not however complain--There are misfortunes so great, as to\nsilence the usual expressions of sorrow--Believe me, there is such a thing\nas a broken heart! There are characters whose very energy preys upon them;\nand who, ever inclined to cherish by reflection some passion, cannot rest\nsatisfied with the common comforts of life. I have endeavoured to fly from\nmyself and launched into all the dissipation possible here, only to feel\nkeener anguish, when alone with my child.\n\nStill, could any thing please me--had not disappointment cut me off from\nlife, this romantic country, these fine evenings, would interest me.--My\nGod! can any thing? and am I ever to feel alive only to painful\nsensations?--But it cannot--it shall not last long.\n\nThe post is again arrived; I have sent to seek for letters, only to be\nwounded to the soul by a negative.--My brain seems on fire. I must go into\nthe air.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LVIII",
    "body": "_[Laurvig, Norway] July 14 [1795]._\n\nI am now on my journey to Tonsberg. I felt more at leaving my child, than\nI thought I should--and, whilst at night I imagined every instant that I\nheard the half-formed sounds of her voice,--I asked myself how I could\nthink of parting with her for ever, of leaving her thus helpless?\n\nPoor lamb! It may run very well in a tale, that \"God will temper the winds\nto the shorn lamb!\" but how can I expect that she will be shielded, when\nmy naked bosom has had to brave continually the pitiless storm? Yes; I\ncould add, with poor Lear--What is the war of elements to the pangs of\ndisappointed affection, and the horror arising from a discovery of a\nbreach of confidence, that snaps every social tie!\n\nAll is not right somewhere!--When you first knew me, I was not thus lost.\nI could still confide--for I opened my heart to you--of this only comfort\nyou have deprived me, whilst my happiness, you tell me, was your first\nobject. Strange want of judgment!\n\nI will not complain; but, from the soundness of your understanding, I am\nconvinced, if you give yourself leave to reflect, you will also feel, that\nyour conduct to me, so far from being generous, has not been just.--I mean\nnot to allude to factitious principles of morality; but to the simple\nbasis of all rectitude.--However I did not intend to argue--Your not\nwriting is cruel--and my reason is perhaps disturbed by constant\nwretchedness.\n\nPoor ---- would fain have accompanied me, out of tenderness; for my\nfainting, or rather convulsion, when I landed, and my sudden changes of\ncountenance since, have alarmed her so much, that she is perpetually\nafraid of some accident.--But it would have injured the child this warm\nseason, as she is cutting her teeth.\n\nI hear not of your having written to me at Stromstad. Very well! Act as\nyou please--there is nothing I fear or care for! When I see whether I\ncan, or cannot obtain the money I am come here about, I will not trouble\nyou with letters to which you do not reply.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LIX",
    "body": "_[Tonsberg] July 18 [1795]._\n\nI am here in Tonsberg, separated from my child--and here I must remain a\nmonth at least, or I might as well never have come.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have begun ---- which will, I hope, discharge all my obligations of a\npecuniary kind.--I am lowered in my own eyes, on account of my not having\ndone it sooner.\n\nI shall make no further comments on your silence. God bless you!\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LX",
    "body": "_[Tonsberg] July 30 [1795]._\n\nI have just received two of your letters, dated the 26th and 30th of\nJune; and you must have received several from me, informing you of my\ndetention, and how much I was hurt by your silence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWrite to me then, my friend, and write explicitly. I have suffered, God\nknows, since I left you. Ah! you have never felt this kind of sickness of\nheart!--My mind however is at present painfully active, and the sympathy I\nfeel almost rises to agony. But this is not a subject of complaint, it has\nafforded me pleasure,--and reflected pleasure is all I have to hope\nfor--if a spark of hope be yet alive in my forlorn bosom.\n\nI will try to write with a degree of composure. I wish for us to live\ntogether, because I want you to acquire an habitual tenderness for my poor\ngirl. I cannot bear to think of leaving her alone in the world, or that\nshe should only be protected by your sense of duty. Next to preserving\nher, my most earnest wish is not to disturb your peace. I have nothing to\nexpect, and little to fear, in life--There are wounds that can never be\nhealed--but they may be allowed to fester in silence without wincing.\n\nWhen we meet again, you shall be convinced that I have more resolution\nthan you give me credit for. I will not torment you. If I am destined\nalways to be disappointed and unhappy, I will conceal the anguish I cannot\ndissipate; and the tightened cord of life or reason will at last snap, and\nset me free.\n\nYes; I shall be happy--This heart is worthy of the bliss its feelings\nanticipate--and I cannot even persuade myself, wretched as they have made\nme, that my principles and sentiments are not founded in nature and truth.\nBut to have done with these subjects.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have been seriously employed in this way since I came to Tonsberg; yet\nI never was so much in the air.--I walk, I ride on horseback--row, bathe,\nand even sleep in the fields; my health is consequently improved. The\nchild, ---- informs me, is well, I long to be with her.\n\nWrite to me immediately--were I only to think of myself, I could wish you\nto return to me, poor, with the simplicity of character, part of which you\nseem lately to have lost, that first attached to you.\n\n  Yours most affectionately\n    MARY IMLAY\n\nI have been subscribing other letters--so I mechanically did the same to\nyours.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXI",
    "body": "_[Tonsberg] August 5 [1795]._\n\nEmployment and exercise have been of great service to me; and I have\nentirely recovered the strength and activity I lost during the time of my\nnursing. I have seldom been in better health; and my mind, though\ntrembling to the touch of anguish, is calmer--yet still the same.--I have,\nit is true, enjoyed some tranquillity, and more happiness here, than for a\nlong--long time past.--(I say happiness, for I can give no other\nappellation to the exquisite delight this wild country and fine summer\nhave afforded me.)--Still, on examining my heart, I find that it is so\nconstituted, I cannot live without some particular affection--I am afraid\nnot without a passion--and I feel the want of it more in society, than in\nsolitude.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWriting to you, whenever an affectionate epithet occurs--my eyes fill with\ntears, and my trembling hand stops--you may then depend on my resolution,\nwhen with you. If I am doomed to be unhappy, I will confine my anguish in\nmy own bosom--tenderness, rather than passion, has made me sometimes\noverlook delicacy--the same tenderness will in future restrain me. God\nbless you!",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXII",
    "body": "_[Tonsberg] August 7 [1795]._\n\nAir, exercise, and bathing, have restored me to health, braced my muscles,\nand covered my ribs, even whilst I have recovered my former activity.--I\ncannot tell you that my mind is calm, though I have snatched some moments\nof exquisite delight, wandering through the woods, and resting on the\nrocks.\n\nThis state of suspense, my friend, is intolerable; we must determine on\nsomething--and soon;--we must meet shortly, or part for ever. I am\nsensible that I acted foolishly--but I was wretched--when we were\ntogether--Expecting too much, I let the pleasure I might have caught, slip\nfrom me. I cannot live with you--I ought not--if you form another\nattachment. But I promise you, mine shall not be intruded on you. Little\nreason have I to expect a shadow of happiness, after the cruel\ndisappointments that have rent my heart; but that of my child seems to\ndepend on our being together. Still I do not wish you to sacrifice a\nchance of enjoyment for an uncertain good. I feel a conviction, that I can\nprovide for her, and it shall be my object--if we are indeed to part to\nmeet no more. Her affection must not be divided. She must be a comfort to\nme--if I am to have no other--and only know me as her support. I feel that\nI cannot endure the anguish of corresponding with you--if we are only to\ncorrespond.--No; if you seek for happiness elsewhere, my letters shall not\ninterrupt your repose. I will be dead to you. I cannot express to you what\npain it gives me to write about an eternal separation.--You must\ndetermine--examine yourself--But, for God's sake! spare me the anxiety of\nuncertainty!--I may sink under the trial; but I will not complain.\n\nAdieu! If I had any thing more to say to you, it is all flown, and\nabsorbed by the most tormenting apprehensions; yet I scarcely know what\nnew form of misery I have to dread.\n\nI ought to beg your pardon for having sometimes written peevishly; but you\nwill impute it to affection, if you understand anything of the heart of\n\n  Yours truly\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXIII",
    "body": "_[Tonsberg] August 9 [1795]._\n\nFive of your letters have been sent after me from ----. One, dated the\n14th of July, was written in a style which I may have merited, but did not\nexpect from you. However this is not a time to reply to it, except to\nassure you that you shall not be tormented with any more complaints. I am\ndisgusted with myself for having so long importuned you with my\naffection.----\n\nMy child is very well. We shall soon meet, to part no more, I hope--I\nmean, I and my girl.--I shall wait with some degree of anxiety till I am\ninformed how your affairs terminate.\n\n  Yours sincerely\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXIV",
    "body": "_[Gothenburg] August 26 [1795]._\n\nI arrived here last night, and with the most exquisite delight, once more\npressed my babe to my heart. We shall part no more. You perhaps cannot\nconceive the pleasure it gave me, to see her run about, and play alone.\nHer increasing intelligence attaches me more and more to her. I have\npromised her that I will fulfil my duty to her; and nothing in future\nshall make me forget it. I will also exert myself to obtain an\nindependence for her; but I will not be too anxious on this head.\n\nI have already told you, that I have recovered my health. Vigour, and even\nvivacity of mind, have returned with a renovated constitution. As for\npeace, we will not talk of it. I was not made, perhaps, to enjoy the calm\ncontentment so termed.--\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYou tell me that my letters torture you; I will not describe the effect\nyours have on me. I received three this morning, the last dated the 7th of\nthis month. I mean not to give vent to the emotions they\nproduced.--Certainly you are right; our minds are not congenial. I have\nlived in an ideal world, and fostered sentiments that you do not\ncomprehend--or you would not treat me thus. I am not, I will not be,\nmerely an object of compassion--a clog, however light, to teize you.\nForget that I exist: I will never remind you. Something emphatical\nwhispers me to put an end to these struggles. Be free--I will not torment,\nwhen I cannot please. I can take care of my child; you need not\ncontinually tell me that our fortune is inseparable, _that you will try to\ncherish tenderness_ for me. Do no violence to yourself! When we are\nseparated, our interest, since you give so much weight to pecuniary\nconsiderations, will be entirely divided. I want not protection without\naffection; and support I need not, whilst my faculties are undisturbed. I\nhad a dislike to living in England; but painful feelings must give way to\nsuperior considerations. I may not be able to acquire the sum necessary to\nmaintain my child and self elsewhere. It is too late to go to\nSwitzerland. I shall not remain at ----, living expensively. But be not\nalarmed! I shall not force myself on you any more.\n\nAdieu! I am agitated--my whole frame is convulsed--my lips tremble, as if\nshook by cold, though fire seems to be circulating in my veins.\n\nGod bless you.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXV",
    "body": "_[Copenhagen] September 6 [1795]._\n\nI received just now your letter of the 20th. I had written you a letter\nlast night, into which imperceptibly slipt some of my bitterness of soul.\nI will copy the part relative to business. I am not sufficiently vain to\nimagine that I can, for more than a moment, cloud your enjoyment of\nlife--to prevent even that, you had better never hear from me--and repose\non the idea that I am happy.\n\nGracious God! It is impossible for me to stifle something like\nresentment, when I receive fresh proofs of your indifference. What I have\nsuffered this last year, is not to be forgotten! I have not that happy\nsubstitute for wisdom, insensibility--and the lively sympathies which bind\nme to my fellow-creatures, are all of a painful kind.--They are the\nagonies of a broken heart--pleasure and I have shaken hands.\n\nI see here nothing but heaps of ruins, and only converse with people\nimmersed in trade and sensuality.\n\nI am weary of travelling--yet seem to have no home--no resting-place to\nlook to.--I am strangely cast off.--How often, passing through the rocks,\nI have thought, \"But for this child, I would lay my head on one of them,\nand never open my eyes again!\" With a heart feelingly alive to all the\naffections of my nature--I have never met with one, softer than the stone\nthat I would fain take for my last pillow. I once thought I had, but it\nwas all a delusion. I meet with families continually, who are bound\ntogether by affection or principle--and, when I am conscious that I have\nfulfilled the duties of my station, almost to a forgetfulness of myself, I\nam ready to demand, in a murmuring tone, of Heaven, \"Why am I thus\nabandoned?\"\n\nYou say now\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI do not understand you. It is necessary for you to write more\nexplicitly--and determine on some mode of conduct.--I cannot endure this\nsuspense--Decide--Do you fear to strike another blow? We live together, or\neternally part!--I shall not write to you again, till I receive an answer\nto this. I must compose my tortured soul, before I write on indifferent\nsubjects.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI do not know whether I write intelligibly, for my head is disturbed. But\nthis you ought to pardon--for it is with difficulty frequently that I make\nout what you mean to say--You write, I suppose, at Mr. ----'s after\ndinner, when your head is not the clearest--and as for your heart, if you\nhave one, I see nothing like the dictates of affection, unless a glimpse\nwhen you mention the child--Adieu!",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXVI",
    "body": "_[Hamburg] September 25 [1795]._\n\nI have just finished a letter, to be given in charge to captain ----. In\nthat I complained of your silence, and expressed my surprise that three\nmails should have arrived without bringing a line for me. Since I closed\nit, I hear of another, and still no letter.--I am labouring to write\ncalmly--this silence is a refinement on cruelty. Had captain ---- remained\na few days longer, I would have returned with him to England. What have I\nto do here? I have repeatedly written to you fully. Do you do the\nsame--and quickly. Do not leave me in suspense. I have not deserved this\nof you. I cannot write, my mind is so distressed. Adieu!\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXVII",
    "body": "_[Hamburg] September 27 [1795]._\n\nWhen you receive this, I shall either have landed, or be hovering on the\nBritish coast--your letter of the 18th decided me.\n\nBy what criterion of principle or affection, you term my questions\nextraordinary and unnecessary, I cannot determine.--You desire me to\ndecide--I had decided. You must have had long ago two letters of mine,\nfrom ----, to the same purport, to consider.--In these, God knows! there\nwas but too much affection, and the agonies of a distracted mind were but\ntoo faithfully pourtrayed!--What more then had I to say?--The negative was\nto come from you.--You had perpetually recurred to your promise of meeting\nme in the autumn--Was it extraordinary that I should demand a yes, or\nno?--Your letter is written with extreme harshness, coldness I am\naccustomed to, in it I find not a trace of the tenderness of humanity,\nmuch less of friendship.--I only see a desire to heave a load off your\nshoulders.\n\nI am above disputing about words.--It matters not in what terms you\ndecide.\n\nThe tremendous power who formed this heart, must have foreseen that, in a\nworld in which self-interest, in various shapes, is the principal mobile,\nI had little chance of escaping misery.--To the fiat of fate I submit.--I\nam content to be wretched; but I will not be contemptible.--Of me you have\nno cause to complain, but for having had too much regard for you--for\nhaving expected a degree of permanent happiness, when you only sought for\na momentary gratification.\n\nI am strangely deficient in sagacity.--Uniting myself to you, your\ntenderness seemed to make me amends for all my former misfortunes.--On\nthis tenderness and affection with what confidence did I rest!--but I\nleaned on a spear, that has pierced me to the heart.--You have thrown off\na faithful friend, to pursue the caprices of the moment.--We certainly are\ndifferently organized; for even now, when conviction has been stamped on\nmy soul by sorrow, I can scarcely believe it possible. It depends at\npresent on you, whether you will see me or not.--I shall take no step,\ntill I see or hear from you.\n\nPreparing myself for the worst--I have determined, if your next letter be\nlike the last, to write to Mr. ---- to procure me an obscure lodging, and\nnot to inform any body of my arrival.--There I will endeavour in a few\nmonths to obtain the sum necessary to take me to France--from you I will\nnot receive any more.--I am not yet sufficiently humbled to depend on your\nbeneficence.\n\nSome people, whom my unhappiness has interested, though they know not the\nextent of it, will assist me to attain the object I have in view, the\nindependence of my child. Should a peace take place, ready money will go a\ngreat way in France--and I will borrow a sum, which my industry _shall_\nenable me to pay at my leisure, to purchase a small estate for my\ngirl.--The assistance I shall find necessary to complete her education, I\ncan get at an easy rate at Paris--I can introduce her to such society as\nshe will like--and thus, securing for her all the chance for happiness,\nwhich depends on me, I shall die in peace, persuaded that the felicity\nwhich has hitherto cheated my expectation, will not always elude my grasp.\nNo poor temptest-tossed mariner ever more earnestly longed to arrive at\nhis port.\n\n  MARY.\n\nI shall not come up in the vessel all the way, because I have no place to\ngo to. Captain ---- will inform you where I am. It is needless to add,\nthat I am not in a state of mind to bear suspense--and that I wish to see\nyou, though it be for the last time.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXVIII",
    "body": "_[Dover] Sunday, October 4 [1795]._\n\nI wrote to you by the packet, to inform you, that your letter of the 18th\nof last month, had determined me to set out with captain ----; but, as we\nsailed very quick, I take it for granted, that you have not yet received\nit.\n\nYou say, I must decide for myself.--I had decided, that it was most for\nthe interest of my little girl, and for my own comfort, little as I\nexpect, for us to live together; and I even thought that you would be\nglad, some years hence, when the tumult of business was over, to repose in\nthe society of an affectionate friend, and mark the progress of our\ninteresting child, whilst endeavouring to be of use in the circle you at\nlast resolved to rest in: for you cannot run about for ever.\n\nFrom the tenour of your last letter however, I am led to imagine, that you\nhave formed some new attachment.--If it be so, let me earnestly request\nyou to see me once more, and immediately. This is the only proof I require\nof the friendship you profess for me. I will then decide, since you boggle\nabout a mere form.\n\nI am labouring to write with calmness--but the extreme anguish I feel, at\nlanding without having any friend to receive me, and even to be conscious\nthat the friend whom I most wish to see, will feel a disagreeable\nsensation at being informed of my arrival, does not come under the\ndescription of common misery. Every emotion yields to an overwhelming\nflood of sorrow--and the playfulness of my child distresses me.--On her\naccount, I wished to remain a few days here, comfortless as is my\nsituation.--Besides, I did not wish to surprise you. You have told me,\nthat you would make any sacrifice to promote my happiness--and, even in\nyour last unkind letter, you talk of the ties which bind you to me and my\nchild.--Tell me, that you wish it, and I will cut this Gordian knot.\n\nI now most earnestly intreat you to write to me, without fail, by the\nreturn of the post. Direct your letter to be left at the post-office, and\ntell me whether you will come to me here, or where you will meet me. I can\nreceive your letter on Wednesday morning.\n\nDo not keep me in suspense.--I expect nothing from you, or any human\nbeing: my die is cast!--I have fortitude enough to determine to do my\nduty; yet I cannot raise my depressed spirits, or calm my trembling\nheart.--That being who moulded it thus, knows that I am unable to tear up\nby the roots the propensity to affection which has been the torment of my\nlife--but life will have an end!\n\nShould you come here (a few months ago I could not have doubted it) you\nwill find me at ----. If you prefer meeting me on the road, tell me where.\n\n  Yours affectionately,\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXIX",
    "body": "_[London, Nov. 1795]._\n\nI write to you now on my knees; imploring you to send my child and the\nmaid with ----, to Paris, to be consigned to the care of Madame ----, rue\n----, section de ----. Should they be removed, ---- can give their\ndirection.\n\nLet the maid have all my clothes, without distinction.\n\nPray pay the cook her wages, and do not mention the confession which I\nforced from her--a little sooner or later is of no consequence. Nothing\nbut my extreme stupidity could have rendered me blind so long. Yet, whilst\nyou assured me that you had no attachment, I thought we might still have\nlived together.\n\nI shall make no comments on your conduct; or any appeal to the world. Let\nmy wrongs sleep with me! Soon, very soon shall I be at peace. When you\nreceive this, my burning head will be cold.\n\nI would encounter a thousand deaths, rather than a night like the last.\nYour treatment has thrown my mind into a state of chaos; yet I am serene.\nI go to find comfort, and my only fear is, that my poor body will be\ninsulted by an endeavour to recal my hated existence. But I shall plunge\ninto the Thames where there is the least chance of my being snatched from\nthe death I seek.\n\nGod bless you! May you never know by experience what you have made me\nendure. Should your sensibility ever awake, remorse will find its way to\nyour heart; and, in the midst of business and sensual pleasure, I shall\nappear before you, the victim of your deviation from rectitude.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXX",
    "body": "_[London, Nov. 1795] Sunday Morning._\n\nI have only to lament, that, when the bitterness of death was past, I was\ninhumanly brought back to life and misery. But a fixed determination is\nnot to be baffled by disappointment; nor will I allow that to be a frantic\nattempt, which was one of the calmest acts of reason. In this respect, I\nam only accountable to myself. Did I care for what is termed reputation,\nit is by other circumstances that I should be dishonoured.\n\nYou say, \"that you know not how to extricate ourselves out of the\nwretchedness into which we have been plunged.\" You are extricated long\nsince.--But I forbear to comment.--If I am condemned to live longer, it is\na living death.\n\nIt appears to me, that you lay much more stress on delicacy, than on\nprinciple; for I am unable to discover what sentiment of delicacy would\nhave been violated, by your visiting a wretched friend--if indeed you have\nany friendship for me.--But since your new attachment is the only thing\nsacred in your eyes, I am silent--Be happy! My complaints shall never more\ndamp your enjoyment--perhaps I am mistaken in supposing that even my death\ncould, for more than a moment.--This is what you call magnanimity.--It is\nhappy for yourself, that you possess this quality in the highest degree.\n\nYour continually asserting, that you will do all in your power to\ncontribute to my comfort (when you only allude to pecuniary assistance),\nappears to me a flagrant breach of delicacy.--I want not such vulgar\ncomfort, nor will I accept it. I never wanted but your heart--That gone,\nyou have nothing more to give. Had I only poverty to fear, I should not\nshrink from life.--Forgive me then, if I say, that I shall consider any\ndirect or indirect attempt to supply my necessities, as an insult which I\nhave not merited--and as rather done out of tenderness for your own\nreputation, than for me. Do not mistake me; I do not think that you value\nmoney (therefore I will not accept what you do not care for) though I do\nmuch less, because certain privations are not painful to me. When I am\ndead, respect for yourself will make you take care of the child.\n\nI write with difficulty--probably I shall never write to you\nagain.--Adieu!\n\nGod bless you!\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXI",
    "body": "_[London, Nov. 1795] Monday Morning._\n\nI am compelled at last to say that you treat me ungenerously. I agree with\nyou, that\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut let the obliquity now fall on me.--I fear neither poverty nor infamy.\nI am unequal to the task of writing--and explanations are not necessary.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMy child may have to blush for her mother's want of prudence--and may\nlament that the rectitude of my heart made me above vulgar precautions;\nbut she shall not despise me for meanness.--You are now perfectly\nfree.--God bless you.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXII",
    "body": "_[London, Nov. 1795] Saturday Night._\n\nI have been hurt by indirect enquiries, which appear to me not to be\ndictated by any tenderness to me.--You ask \"If I am well or\ntranquil?\"--They who think me so, must want a heart to estimate my\nfeelings by.--I chuse then to be the organ of my own sentiments.\n\nI must tell you, that I am very much mortified by your continually\noffering me pecuniary assistance--and, considering your going to the new\nhouse, as an open avowal that you abandon me, let me tell you that I will\nsooner perish than receive any thing from you--and I say this at the\nmoment when I am disappointed in my first attempt to obtain a temporary\nsupply. But this even pleases me; an accumulation of disappointments and\nmisfortunes seems to suit the habit of my mind.--\n\nHave but a little patience, and I will remove myself where it will not be\nnecessary for you to talk--of course, not to think of me. But let me see,\nwritten by yourself--for I will not receive it through any other\nmedium--that the affair is finished.--It is an insult to me to suppose,\nthat I can be reconciled, or recover my spirits; but, if you hear nothing\nof me, it will be the same thing to you.\n\n  MARY.\n\nEven your seeing me, has been to oblige other people, and not to sooth my\ndistracted mind.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXIII",
    "body": "_[London, Nov. 1795] Thursday Afternoon._\n\nMr. ---- having forgot to desire you to send the things of mine which\nwere left at the house, I have to request you to let ---- bring them to\n----\n\nI shall go this evening to the lodging; so you need not be restrained from\ncoming here to transact your business.--And, whatever I may think, and\nfeel--you need not fear that I shall publicly complain--No! If I have any\ncriterion to judge of right and wrong, I have been most ungenerously\ntreated: but, wishing now only to hide myself, I shall be silent as the\ngrave in which I long to forget myself. I shall protect and provide for my\nchild.--I only mean by this to say, that you have nothing to fear from my\ndesperation.\n\n  Farewel.\n    MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXIV",
    "body": "_London, November 27 [1795]._\n\nThe letter, without an address, which you put up with the letters you\nreturned, did not meet my eyes till just now.--I had thrown the letters\naside--I did not wish to look over a register of sorrow.\n\nMy not having seen it, will account for my having written to you with\nanger--under the impression your departure, without even a line left for\nme, made on me, even after your late conduct, which could not lead me to\nexpect much attention to my sufferings.\n\nIn fact, \"the decided conduct, which appeared to me so unfeeling,\" has\nalmost overturned my reason; my mind is injured--I scarcely know where I\nam, or what I do.--The grief I cannot conquer (for some cruel\nrecollections never quit me, banishing almost every other) I labour to\nconceal in total solitude.--My life therefore is but an exercise of\nfortitude, continually on the stretch--and hope never gleams in this tomb,\nwhere I am buried alive.\n\nBut I meant to reason with you, and not to complain.--You tell me, that I\nshall judge more coolly of your mode of acting, some time hence.\" But is\nit not possible that _passion_ clouds your reason, as much as it does\nmine?--and ought you not to doubt, whether those principles are so\n\"exalted,\" as you term them, which only lead to your own gratification? In\nother words, whether it be just to have no principle of action, but that\nof following your inclination, trampling on the affection you have\nfostered, and the expectations you have excited?\n\nMy affection for you is rooted in my heart.--I know you are not what you\nnow seem--nor will you always act, or feel, as you now do, though I may\nnever be comforted by the change.--Even at Paris, my image will haunt\nyou.--You will see my pale face--and sometimes the tears of anguish will\ndrop on your heart; which you have forced from mine.\n\nI cannot write. I thought I could quickly have refuted all your\n_ingenious_ arguments; but my head is confused.--Right or wrong, I am\nmiserable!\n\nIt seems to me, that my conduct has always been governed by the strictest\nprinciples of justice and truth.--Yet, how wretched have my social\nfeelings, and delicacy of sentiment rendered me!--I have loved with my\nwhole soul, only to discover that I had no chance of a return--and that\nexistence is a burthen without it.\n\nI do not perfectly understand you.--If, by the offer of your friendship,\nyou still only mean pecuniary support--I must again reject it.--Trifling\nare the ills of poverty in the scale of my misfortunes.--God bless you!\n\n  MARY.\n\nI have been treated ungenerously--if I understand what is generosity.--You\nseem to me only to have been anxious to shake me off--regardless whether\nyou dashed me to atoms by the fall.--In truth I have been rudely handled.\n_Do you judge coolly_, and I trust you will not continue to call those\ncapricious feelings \"the most refined,\" which would undermine not only the\nmost sacred principles, but the affections which unite mankind.--You would\nrender mothers unnatural--and there would be no such thing as a\nfather!--If your theory of morals is the most \"exalted,\" it is certainly\nthe most easy.--It does not require much magnanimity, to determine to\nplease ourselves for the moment, let others suffer what they will!\n\nExcuse me for again tormenting you, my heart thirsts for justice from\nyou--and whilst I recollect that you approved Miss ----'s conduct--I am\nconvinced you will not always justify your own.\n\nBeware of the deceptions of passion! It will not always banish from your\nmind, that you have acted ignobly--and condescended to subterfuge to\ngloss over the conduct you could not excuse.--Do truth and principle\nrequire such sacrifices?",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXV",
    "body": "_London, December 8 [1795]._\n\nHaving just been informed that ---- is to return immediately to Paris, I\nwould not miss a sure opportunity of writing, because I am not certain\nthat my last, by Dover has reached you.\n\nResentment, and even anger, are momentary emotions with me--and I wished\nto tell you so, that if you ever think of me, it may not be in the light\nof an enemy.\n\nThat I have not been used _well_ I must ever feel; perhaps, not always\nwith the keen anguish I do at present--for I began even now to write\ncalmly, and I cannot restrain my tears.\n\nI am stunned!--Your late conduct still appears to me a frightful\ndream.--Ah! ask yourself if you have not condescended to employ a little\naddress, I could almost say cunning, unworthy of you?--Principles are\nsacred things--and we never play with truth, with impunity.\n\nThe expectation (I have too fondly nourished it) of regaining your\naffection, every day grows fainter and fainter.--Indeed, it seems to me,\nwhen I am more sad than usual, that I shall never see you more.--Yet you\nwill not always forget me.--You will feel something like remorse, for\nhaving lived only for yourself--and sacrificed my peace to inferior\ngratifications. In a comfortless old age, you will remember that you had\none disinterested friend, whose heart you wounded to the quick. The hour\nof recollection will come--and you will not be satisfied to act the part\nof a boy, till you fall into that of a dotard. I know that your mind, your\nheart, and your principles of action, are all superior to your present\nconduct. You do, you must, respect me--and you will be sorry to forfeit my\nesteem.\n\nYou know best whether I am still preserving the remembrance of an\nimaginary being.--I once thought that I knew you thoroughly--but now I am\nobliged to leave some doubts that involuntarily press on me, to be cleared\nup by time.\n\nYou may render me unhappy; but cannot make me contemptible in my own\neyes.--I shall still be able to support my child, though I am disappointed\nin some other plans of usefulness, which I once believed would have\nafforded you equal pleasure.\n\nWhilst I was with you, I restrained my natural generosity, because I\nthought your property in jeopardy.--When I went to [Sweden], I requested\nyou, _if you could conveniently_, not to forget my father, sisters, and\nsome other people, whom I was interested about.--Money was lavished away,\nyet not only my requests were neglected, but some trifling debts were not\ndischarged, that now come on me.--Was this friendship--or generosity? Will\nyou not grant you have forgotten yourself? Still I have an affection for\nyou.--God bless you.\n\n  MARY.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXVI",
    "body": "_[London, Dec. 1795.]_\n\nAs the parting from you for ever is the most serious event of my life, I\nwill once expostulate with you, and call not the language of truth and\nfeeling ingenuity!\n\nI know the soundness of your understanding--and know that it is impossible\nfor you always to confound the caprices of every wayward inclination with\nthe manly dictates of principle.\n\nYou tell me \"that I torment you.\"--Why do I?----Because you cannot\nestrange your heart entirely from me--and you feel that justice is on my\nside. You urge, \"that your conduct was unequivocal.\"--It was not.--When\nyour coolness has hurt me, with what tenderness have you endeavoured to\nremove the impression!--and even before I returned to England, you took\ngreat pains to convince me, that all my uneasiness was occasioned by the\neffect of a worn-out constitution--and you concluded your letter with\nthese words, \"Business alone has kept me from you.--Come to any port, and\nI will fly down to my two dear girls with a heart all their own.\"\n\nWith these assurances, is it extraordinary that I should believe what I\nwished? I might--and did think that you had a struggle with old\npropensities; but I still thought that I and virtue should at last\nprevail. I still thought that you had a magnanimity of character, which\nwould enable you to conquer yourself.\n\nImlay, believe me, it is not romance, you have acknowledged to me\nfeelings of this kind.--You could restore me to life and hope, and the\nsatisfaction you would feel, would amply repay you.\n\nIn tearing myself from you, it is my own heart I pierce--and the time will\ncome, when you will lament that you have thrown away a heart, that, even\nin the moment of passion, you cannot despise.--I would owe every thing to\nyour generosity--but, for God's sake, keep me no longer in suspense!--Let\nme see you once more!--",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  },
  {
    "heading": "LETTER LXXVII",
    "body": "_[London, Dec. 1795.]_\n\nYou must do as you please with respect to the child.--I could wish that it\nmight be done soon, that my name may be no more mentioned to you. It is\nnow finished.--Convinced that you have neither regard nor friendship, I\ndisdain to utter a reproach, though I have had reason to think, that the\n\"forbearance\" talked of, has not been very delicate.--It is however of no\nconsequence.--I am glad you are satisfied with your own conduct.\n\nI now solemnly assure you, that this is an eternal farewel.--Yet I flinch\nnot from the duties which tie me to life.\n\nThat there is \"sophistry\" on one side or other, is certain; but now it\nmatters not on which. On my part it has not been a question of words. Yet\nyour understanding or mine must be strangely warped--for what you term\n\"delicacy,\" appears to me to be exactly the contrary. I have no criterion\nfor morality, and have thought in vain, if the sensations which lead you\nto follow an ancle or step, be the sacred foundation of principle and\naffection. Mine has been of a very different nature, or it would not have\nstood the brunt of your sarcasms.\n\nThe sentiment in me is still sacred. If there be any part of me that will\nsurvive the sense of my misfortunes, it is the purity of my affections.\nThe impetuosity of your senses, may have led you to term mere animal\ndesire, the source of principle; and it may give zest to some years to\ncome.--Whether you will always think so, I shall never know.\n\nIt is strange that, in spite of all you do, something like conviction\nforces me to believe, that you are not what you appear to be.\n\nI part with you in peace.\n\n\n_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n[1] Dowden's \"Life of Shelley.\"\n\n[2] The child is in a subsequent letter called the \"barrier girl,\"\nprobably from a supposition that she owed her existence to this\ninterview.--W. G.\n\n[3] This and the thirteen following letters appear to have been written\nduring a separation of several months; the date, Paris.--W. G.\n\n[4] Some further letters, written during the remainder of the week, in a\nsimilar strain to the preceding, appear to have been destroyed by the\nperson to whom they were addressed.--W. G.\n\n[5] Imlay went to Paris on March 11, after spending a fortnight at Havre,\nbut he returned to Mary soon after the date of Letter XIX. In August he\nwent to Paris, where he was followed by Mary. In September Imlay visited\nLondon on business.\n\n[6] The child spoken of in some preceding letters, had now been born a\nconsiderable time. She was born, May 14, 1794, and was named Fanny.--W. G.\n\n[7] She means, \"the latter more than the former.\"--W. G.\n\n[8] This is the first of a series of letters written during a separation\nof many months, to which no cordial meeting ever succeeded. They were sent\nfrom Paris, and bear the address of London.--W. G.\n\n[9] The person to whom the letters are addressed [Imlay], was about this\ntime at Ramsgate, on his return, as he professed, to Paris, when he was\nrecalled, as it should seem, to London, by the further pressure of\nbusiness now accumulated upon him.--W. G.\n\n[10] This probably alludes to some expression of [Imlay] the person to\nwhom the letters are addressed, in which he treated as common evils,\nthings upon which the letter-writer was disposed to bestow a different\nappellation.--W. G.\n\n[11] This passage refers to letters written under a purpose of suicide,\nand not intended to be opened till after the catastrophe.--W. G.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nPassages in italics are indicated by _italics_.\n\nThe word \"an\" was corrected to \"am\" on page 151.\n\nThe unmatched closing quotation mark on page 167 is presented as in the\noriginal text.",
    "author": "Mary Wollstonecraft",
    "recipient": "Gilbert Imlay",
    "source": "The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay",
    "period": "1793–1795"
  }
]