Gilbert
Imlay had promised to meet her upon her return, and go with her to
Switzerland. But the letters she had from him in Sweden and Norway
were cold, and she came back to find that she was wholly forsaken
for an actress from a strolling company of players. Then she went
up the river to drown herself. She paced the road at Putney on an
October night, in 1795, in heavy rain, until her clothes were
drenched, that she might sink more surely, and then threw herself
from the top of Putney Bridge.
She was rescued, and lived on with deadened spirit. In 1796 these
"Letters from Sweden and Norway" were published. Early in 1797 she
was married to William Godwin. On the 10th of September in the same
year, at the age of thirty-eight, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin died,
after the birth of the daughter who lived to become the wife of
Shelley. The mother also would have lived, if a womanly feeling, in
itself to be respected, had not led her also to unwise departure
from the customs of the world. Peace be to her memory. None but
kind thoughts can dwell upon the life of this too faithful disciple
of Rousseau.
H. M.
LETTERS WRITTEN DURING A SHORT RESIDENCE IN SWEDEN, NORWAY, AND
DENMARK.
LETTER I.
Eleven days of weariness on board a vessel not intended for the
accommodation of passengers have so exhausted my spirits, to say
nothing of the other causes, with which you are already sufficiently
acquainted, that it is with some difficulty I adhere to my
determination of giving you my observations, as I travel through new
scenes, whilst warmed with the impression they have made on me.
The captain, as I mentioned to you, promised to put me on shore at
Arendall or Gothenburg in his way to Elsineur, but contrary winds
obliged us to pass both places during the night. In the morning,
however, after we had lost sight of the entrance of the latter bay,
the vessel was becalmed; and the captain, to oblige me, hanging out
a signal for a pilot, bore down towards the shore.
My attention was particularly directed to the lighthouse, and you
can scarcely imagine with what anxiety I watched two long hours for
a boat to emancipate me; still no one appeared. Every cloud that
flitted on the horizon was hailed as a liberator, till approaching
nearer, like most of the prospects sketched by hope, it dissolved
under the eye into disappointment.
Weary of expectation, I then began to converse with the captain on
the subject, and from the tenor of the information my questions drew
forth I soon concluded that if I waited for a boat I had little
chance of getting on shore at this place.
