But it was in vain that the blighting winds of unkindness or indifference, seemed destined to counteract the superiority of Mary’s mind. It surmounted every obstacle; and by degrees, from a person little considered in the family, she became in some sort its director and umpire. The despotism? of her education cost® her many a heart-ache. She was not formed to be the contented and unresisting subject of a despot; but I have heard her remark more than once, that, when she felt she had done wrong, the reproof or chastise- ment of her mother, instead of being a terror to her, she found to be the only thing capable of reconciling her to herself. The blows of 1 copying] tracing. 2 despotism] rigidness. 3 cost] occasioned. 10 St St Le MEMOIRS her father, on the contrary, which were the mere ebullitions of a passionate temper, instead of humbling her‘ roused her indigna- tion. Upon such occasions she felt her superiority, and was apt to betray marks of contempt. The quickness of her father’s temper, led him sometimes to threaten > similar violence towards *® his wife. When that was the case, Mary would often throw herself between the despot and his victim, with the purpose to receive upon her own person the blows that might be directed _ against her mother. She has even laid whole nights upon the landing-place near’ their chamber-door, when, mistakenly, or with reason, she apprehended that her father might break out into paroxysms of violence. The conduct he held * towards the members of his family, was of the same kind as that ® he observed towards animals. He was for the most part extravagantly fond of them; but, when he was displeased, and this frequently happened, and for very! trivial reasons, his anger was alarming. Mary was what Dr. Johnson would have called, ‘“‘a very good hater.’”’ In some instance of passion?
“her del. 5 threaten] menace. 6 towards] to. * upon the landing-place near] at.
§ held] pursued.
® of the same kind as that] similar to that which.
1 very del.
2In some instance of passion] Upon some occasion of severity. sat MEMOIRS exercised by her father to one of his dogs, she was accustomed to speak of her emotions of abhorrence, as having risen* to agony. Ina word, her conduct during her girlish years, was such, as to extort some portion of affection from her mother, and to hold her father in~ considerable awe.
In one respect, the system of education of the mother appears to have had merit. All her children were vigorous and healthy. This seems very much to depend upon the manage- ment of our infant years. It is affirmed by some persons of the present day, most pro- foundly * skilled in the sciences® of health and disease, that there is no period of human life so little subject to mortality, as the period of infancy. Yet, from the mismanagement to which children are exposed, many of the diseases of childhood are rendered fatal, and more persons [actually] die in that, than in any other period ® of human life: Mary had projected a work upon this subject, which she had carefully considered, and well understood. She has indeed left a specimen of her skill in this respect in her eldest daughter, three years and a half old, who is a singular example of vigorous constitution and florid health. Mr. Anthony Carlisle, surgeon, of Soho-square, a name eminently dear to genius and science,’ 8 risen] arisen. ‘most profoundly] eminently. 5 sciences] science. 8 period] stage. 7a name eminently dear...science] whom to name is sufficiently to honour ts¢ ed. IZ ¢ as y) P a: i.
MEMOIRS had promised to revise her production. This is but one out ® of numerous projects? of activity and usefulness, which her untimely death has fatally terminated.
The rustic situation in which Mary spent her infancy, no doubt contributed to confirm the stamina of her constitution. She sported in the open air, and amidst the picturesque and refreshing scenes of nature, for which she always retained the most exquisite relish. Dolls and the other toys usually appropriated to the amusement of! female children, she held in contempt; and felt a much? greater propensity to join in the active and hardy sports of her brothers, than to confine herself to those of her own sex.
About the time that Mary completed the fifth year of her age, her father removed to a small distance from his former habitation upon Epping Forest, and took a farm near the Whalebone,? a little way out of the Chelmsford road. In Michaelmas 1765, he once more changed his residence, and occupied a con- venient house behind the town of Barking in Essex, eight miles from London. In this situation some of their nearest neighbours were, Bamber Gascoyne, esquire, successively 8 out del. ® projects] purposes.
1toys usually...amusement of] amusements usually appropriated to Ist ed.
2 much del.
3 upon Epping Forest...near the Whalebone] and took a farm near the Whalebone upon Epping Forest 1st ed.
13 MEMOIRS member of parliament for several boroughs, and his brother, Mr. Joseph Gascoyne. [I mention this circumstance on account of its connection with the topography of the spot.] Bamber Gascoyne resided but little on this spot; but his brother was almost a constant inhabitant, and his family in habits of the most frequent intercourse with the family of Mary. Here Mr. Wollstonecraft remained for three years. In September 1796, I accom- panied my wife in a visit to this spot. No person reviewed with greater sensibility, the scenes of her childhood. We found the house uninhabited, and the garden in a wild and ruinous state. She renewed her acquaint- ance with the market-place, the streets, and the wharf, the latter of which we found crowded with barges, and full of activity.
In Michaelmas 1768, Mr. Wollstonecraft again removed to a farm near Beverley in Yorkshire. Here the family remained for® six years, and consequently, Mary did not quit this residence until she had attained the age of fifteen years and five months. The principal part of her school-education passed during this period; but it was not to any advantage of infant literature, that she was indebted for her subsequent eminence; her education in this respect was merely such, as was afforded by the day-schools of the place, 4:: ’ Meee Gascoyne resided but little...family of 5 for del.
14 MEMOIRS in which she resided. To her recollections ° Beverley appeared a very’? handsome town, surrounded by genteel families, and with a brilliant assembly. She was surprized, when she visited it in 1795, upon her voyage to Norway, to find the reality so very * much below the picture in her imagination.
Hitherto Mr. Wollstonecraft had been a farmer; but the restlessness of his disposition would not suffer him to content himself with the occupation in which for some years he had been engaged, and the temptation of a commercial speculation of some sort ® being held out to him, he removed to a house in Queen’s-Row, in Hoxton near London, for the purpose of its execution. Here he re- mained for a year and a half; but, being frustrated in his expectations of profit, he, after that term, gave up the project in which he was? engaged, and returned to his former pursuits. During this residence in Hoxton, the writer of these memoirs inhabited, as a student, at? the dissenting college in that place. It is perhaps* a question of curious speculation to enquire, what would have been the amount of the difference in the pursuits and enjoyments of each party, if they had met, and considered each other with the same distinguishing regard in 1776, as they 6 recollections] recollection.
* very del. 8 very del.
® of some sort del. 1 was] had. 2 at del.
® is perhaps] might perhaps be.
15 MEMOIRS were afterwards impressed with in the year 1796. The writer had then completed the twentieth, and Mary the seventeenth year of her age. Which would have been predomi- nant; the disadvantages of obscurity, and the pressure of a family; or the gratifications and improvement that might have flowed from their intercourse?
One of the acquaintances Mary formed at this time was with a Mr. Clare, who inhabited the next house to that which was tenanted by her father, and to whom she was probably in some degree indebted for the early cultivation of her mind. Mr. Clare was a clergyman, and appears to have been a humourist of a very * singular cast. In his person he was deformed and delicate; and his figure, I am told, bore a resemblance to that of the celebrated Pope. He had a fondness for poetry, and was not destitute of taste. His manners were ex- pressive of a tenderness and benevolence, the demonstrations of which appeared to have been somewhat too artificially cultivated. His habits were those of a perfect recluse. He seldom went out of his drawing-room, and he showed to a friend of Mary a pair of shoes, which had served, him, he said, for fourteen years. Mary frequently spent days and weeks together, at the house of Mr. Clare.
[It is easy to perceive that this connection was of a character different from those to which she had hitherto been accustomed. It 4 very del. 16 "es «*e e* a. the c uses by ech } ete: Pediicd and tracing methodically oF: rogress of their minds. But though this seldom be performed, he ought probably ; to neglect to record the fragments of progress and cultivation that may have come down to him. A censurable fastidiousness : only, could teach us to reject information, "because that information is imperfect.]
CHAPTER II 1775-1783 Bur a connection more’ memorable originated _ about this time, between Mary and a person © of her own sex, for whom she contracted a friendship so fervent,2 as for years to have constituted the ruling passion of her mind. — The name of this person was Frances Blood; _ she was two years older than Mary. Her residence was at that time at Newington Butts, a village near the southern extremity 4 of the metropolis; and the originalinstrument for bringing these two friends acquainted,? was ‘Mrs. Clare, wife of the gentleman already mentioned, who was on a footing of consider- able intimacy with both parties. The ac- — quaintance of Fanny, like that of Mr. Clare, contributed to ripen the immature talents of Mary.!
The situation in which Mary was intron to her, bore a resemblance to the first inter- 1 But a connection more] A CONNECTION still more.
2 fervent] warm.
8 original instrument. - acquainted] person who intro- duced them to each other's acquaintance. 4 Mary] Fanny.
18 MEMOIRS view of Werter with Charlotte. She*® was conducted to the door of a small house, but furnished with peculiar ® neatness and pro- priety. The first object that caught her sight, was a young woman of a slender and elegant form, and eighteen years of age, busily employed in feeding and managing some children, born of the same parents, but considerably inferior to her in age. The impression Mary received from a scene, which so happily accorded with her two most cherished conceptions, the picturesque and the affectionate,’ was indelible; and, before the interview was concluded, she had taken, in her heart, the vows of an eternal friendship.
Fanny was a young woman of extraordinary accomplishments. She sung and played with taste. She drew with exquisite ® fidelity and neatness; and, by the employment ® of this talent, for some time maintained her father, mother, and family, but ultimately ruined her health by her extraordinary exertions.! She read and wrote with considerable applica- tion; and the same ideas of minute and delicate propriety followed her in these, as in her other occupations.
5 bore a resemblance...Charlotte. She] was peculiarly adapted to conciliate a mind of simplicity and affection. Mary.
6 peculiar] much.
7a scene, which...the affectionate,] this spectacle 1st ed.
8 exquisite] uncommon. ® employment] exertion.
1 exertions] assiduity.
19 MEMOIRS Mary, a wild, but animated and aspiring girl of sixteen, contemplated Fanny, in the first instance, with sentiments of inferiority and reverence. Though they were much together, yet, the distance of their habitations being considerable, they supplied the want of more frequent interviews by an assiduous correspondence. Mary found Fanny’s letters better spelt and better indited than her own, and felt herself abashed. She had hitherto paid but a superficial attention to literature. She had read, to gratify the ardour of an inextinguishable thirst of knowledge; but she had not thought of writing as an art. Her ambition to excel was now awakened, and she applied herself with passion and earnest- ness. Fanny undertook to be her instructor; and, so? far as related to accuracy and method, her lessons were given with considerable skill.
It has already been mentioned that, in the spring of the year 1776, Mr. Wollstonecraft quitted his situation at Hoxton, and returned to his former agricultural pursuits. The situation upon which he now fixed was in Wales, a circumstance that was felt as a severe blow to Mary’s darling spirit of friendship. The principal acquaintance of the Wollstone- crafts in this retirement, was the family of a Mr. Allen, two of whose daughters are since married to the two elder sons of the celebrated English potter, Josiah Wedgwood.
2 so] as.
* The principal acquaintance...Josiah Wedgwood. del. 20 MEMOIRS Wales however was Mr. Wollstonecraft’s residence for little more than a year. He returned to the neighborhood of London; and Mary, whose ascendancy in some respects had now become considerable, was able* to determine his choice in favour of the village | of Walworth, that she might be near her chosen friend. It was probably before this, that she had once or twice started the idea of quitting her® parental roof, and providing for herself. But she was prevailed upon to resign this idea, and conditions were stipulated with her, relative to her having an apartment in the house that should be exclusively her own, and her commanding the other requisites of study. She did not however think herself fairly treated in these instances, and either the conditions abovementioned, [sic] or some others, were not observed in the sequel, with the fidelity she expected. In one case, she had procured an eligible situation, and every thing was settled respecting her removal to it, when the intreaties and tears of her mother led her to surrender her own inclinations, and abandon the engagement.
These however were only temporary delays. Her propensities continued the same, and the motives by which she was influenced * were unabated. In the year 1778, she being nine- teen years of age, a proposal was made to her ‘ascendancy...was able] Toor of independence was unalterable, had influence enough trst ed 5 her] the 6 influenced] ingeieaten 1st ed AA a ae MEMOIRS of living as a companion with a Mrs. Dawson of Bath, a widow lady, with one son already adult.?/ Upon enquiry she found that Mrs. Dawson was a woman of great peculiarity of temper, that she had had a variety of com- panions in succession, and that no one had found it practicable to continue with her. Mary was not discouraged by this informa- tion and accepted the situation, with a resolution that she would effect in this respect, what none of her predecessors had been able to do. In the sequel she had reason to consider the account she had received as sufficiently accurate, but she did not relax in her endeavours. By method, constancy and firmness, she found the means of making her situation tolerable; and Mrs. Dawson would occasionally confess, that Mary was the only person that had lived with her in that situation, in her treatment of whom she had felt herself under any restraint.
With Mrs. Dawson she continued to reside for two years, and only left her, summoned by the melancholy circumstance of her mother’s rapidly declining health. True to the calls of humanity,® Mary felt in this intelligence an irresistible motive, and eagerly returned to the paternal roof, which she had before resolutely quitted. The residence of her father at this time, was at Enfield near London. He 7a widow lady...adult.] the widow of an opulent tradesman of the city of London. 8 respect] article. ® True to the calls of humanity del.
22 MEMOIRS had, I believe, given up agriculture from the time of his quitting Wales, it appearing to be now? less a source of profit than loss, and it being consequently * thought advisable that he should rather live upon the interest of his fortune.® The illness of Mrs. Wollstonecraft was lingering, but hopeless. Mary was assiduous in her attendance upon her mother. At first, every attention was received with acknowledg- ments and gratitude; but, as the attentions grew habitual, and the health of the mother more and more wretched, they were rather exacted, than received. Nothing would be taken by the unfortunate patient, but from the hands of Mary; rest was denied night or day, and by the time nature was exhausted in the parent, the daughter was qualified to assume her place, and become in turn herself a patient. The last words her mother ever uttered were, ‘‘ A little patience, and all will be over!’ and these words are repeatedly referred to by Mary in the course of her writings., Upon the death of Mrs. Wollstonecraft, Mary bid‘ final adieu to the roof of her father. According to my memorandums, | find her next the inmate of Fanny at Walham Green, near the village of Fulham. Upon 1to be now] that he now made it 1st ed. 2 it being consequently] being rst ed. 8 fortune] property already in possession Ist ed. 4 bid] bad. 23 MEMOIRS what plan they now lived together I am unable to ascertain; certainly not that of Mary ® becoming in any degree * an additional burthen upon the industry of her friend. Thus situated, their intimacy ripened; they approached more nearly to a footing of equality; and their attachment became more rooted and active.
Mary was ever ready at the call of distress, and, in particular, during her whole life was eager and active to promote the welfare of every member of her family. In 1780 she attended the deathbed of her mother; in 1782 she was summoned by a not less melan- choly occasion,’ to attend her sister Eliza, married to a Mr. Bishop, who, subsequently to a dangerous lying-in, remained for some months in a very afflicting situation. Mary continued with her sister without intermission, to her perfect recovery.
5 Mary] Mary’s. Sin any degree del.
? by a not less melancholy occasion] in a not less critical circumstance.
24 CHAPTER III 1783-1785 Mary was! now arrived at the twenty-fourth year of her age. Her project, five. years before, had been personal independence; it was now usefulness. In the solitude of attend- ance on her sister’s illness, and during the subsequent convalescence,” she had had leisure to ruminate upon plans for this purpose.® Her expanded mind led her to seek something more arduous than the mere removal of personal vexations; and the sensibility of her heart would not suffer her to rest in soli- tary gratifications. The derangement of her father’s affairs daily became more and more glaring; and a small independent provision made for herself and her sisters, appears to have been sacrificed in the wreck. For ten years, from 1782 to 1792, she may be said to have been, in a great degree, the victim of a desire to promote the benefit of others. She did not foresee the severe disappointment 1 was] had. 2 and during the subsequent convalescence del. 8 plans for this purpose] purposes of this sort Ist ed.
25 MEMOIRS with which an exclusive purpose of this sort is pregnant; she was inexperienced enough to lay a stress upon the consequent gratitude of those she benefited; and she did not sufficiently consider that, in proportion as we involve ourselves in the‘ interests and society of others, we acquire a more exquisite sense of their defects, and are tormented with their untractableness and folly. [Her mis- takes in this respect were two: she engaged herself too minutely and too deeply in the care of their welfare; and she was too much impressed by any seeming want of ingenuous and honourable feeling on the part of those she benefited. In the mixed scene of human life, it is necessary that, while we take some care for others, we should leave scope for the display of their own prudence and reason; and that, when we have discharged our duty respecting them, we should be habituated to derive a principal consolation:from the con- sciousness of having done so.]
The project upon which she now ® deter- mined, was no other than ® that of a day- school, to be superintended by Fanny Blood, herself, and her two sisters. They accordingly opened one in the year 1783, at the village of Islington; but in the course of a few months removed it to Newington Green.
Here Mary formed some acquaintances who? influenced the future events of her life. The 4 the del. 5 now del.
6 no other than del. 7 who] that. 26 seit advil de ati MEMOIRS MEMOIRS first of these in her own estimation, was Dr. Richard Price, well known for his political and mathematical calculations, and univer- sally esteemed by those who knew him, for the simplicity of his manners, and the ardour of his benevolence. The regard conceived by these two persons for each other, was mutual, and partook of a spirit of the purest attach- ment. Mary had been bred in the principles of the church of England, but her esteem for this venerable preacher led her occasionally to attend upon ® his public instructions. Her religion was, in reality, little allied to any system of forms; and, as she has often told me, was founded rather in taste, than in the niceties of polemical discussion. Her mind constitutionally attached itself to the sublime and the amiable. She found an inexpressible delight in the beauties of nature, and in the splendid reveries of the imagination. But nature itself, she thought, would be no better than a vast blank, if the mind of the observer did not supply it with an animating soul. When she walked amidst the wonders of nature, she was accustomed to converse with her God. To her mind he was pictured as not less amiable, generous and. kind, than great, wise and exalted. In fact, she had received few lessons of religion in her youth, and her religion was almost entirely of her own creation.? But she was not on that account the less attached to it, or the less 8 upon del. ® creation] creating.
27 27 MEMOIRS scrupulous in discharging what she considered as its duties. She could not recollect the time when she had believed the doctrine of future punishments.1 The tenets of her sys- tem were the growth of her own moral taste, and her religion therefore had always been a gratification, never a terror, to her. She expected a future state; but she would not allow her ideas of that future*® state to be modified by the notions of judgment and retribution. From this sketch, it is sufficiently * evident, that the pleasure she took in an occasional attendance upon the sermons of Dr. Price, was not accompanied with a superstitious adherence to his doctrines. The fact is, that, as far down as the year 1787, she regularly frequented public worship, for the most part according to the forms of the church of England. After that period her attendance became less constant, and in no long time was wholly discontinued. I believe it may be admitted as a maxim, that no person of a well furnished mind, that has shaken off the implicit subjection of youth, and is not the zealous partizan of a sect, can bring himself to conform to the public and regular routine of sermons and prayers. Another of the friends she acquired at this period, was Mrs. Burgh, widow of the author of the Political Disquisitions, a woman uni- versally well spoken of for the warmth and 1or the less...future punishments del. 2 future del. 3 sufficiently del.
28 < as dhlUl : : : MEMOIRS purity of her benevolence. Mary, whenever she had occasion to allude to her, to the last period of her life, paid the tribute due to her virtues. The only remaining friend necessary to be enumerated in this place, is the rev. John Hewlet, now master of a boarding-school at Shacklewel near Hackney,’ whom I shall have [further] occasion to mention hereafter.
It was [also] during her residence at Newing- ton Green, that she was introduced to the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson, who was at that time considered as in some sort the father of English literature. The doctor treated her with particular kindness and attention, had a long conversation with her, and desired her to repeat her visit often. This she firmly purposed to do; but the news of his last illness, and then of his death, intervened to prevent her making a second visit.® I have already said that Fanny’s health had been materially injured by her incessant labours for the maintenance of her family. She had also suffered a disappointment, which preyed upon her mind. To these different sources ” of ill health she became gradually a victim; and at length discovered all the symptoms of a pulmonary consumption. By 5 The only remaining...near Hackney] In the catalogue of friends acquired at this period, I may likewise include the rev. John Hewlet, a popular preacher in the established church.
6 making a second visit] seeing him a second time.
* sources] Causes.
29 MEMOIRS the medical men that attended her, she was advised to try the effects of a southern climate; and, about the beginning of the year 1785, sailed for Lisbon.
The first feeling with which Mary had contemplated her friend, was a sentiment of inferiority and reverence; but that, from the operation of a ten years’ acquaintance was considerably changed. Fanny had originally been far before her in literary attainments; this disparity no longer existed. In whatever degree Mary might endeavour to free herself from the delusions of self-esteem, this period of observation upon her own mind and that of her friend, could not pass, without her perceiving that there were some essential characteristics of genius, which she possessed, and in which her friend was deficient. The principal of these was a firmness of mind, an unconquerable greatness of soul, by which, after a short internal struggle, she was [for the most part] accustomed to rise above difficulties and suffering. Whatever Mary undertook, she perhaps in all instances accom- plished; and, to her lofty spirit, scarcely any thing she desired, appeared hard to perform. Fanny, on the contrary, was a woman of a timid and irresolute nature, accustomed to yield to difficulties, and probably priding herself in this morbid softness of her temper. One instance that I have heard Mary relate of this sort, was, that, at a certain time, Fanny, dissatisfied with her domestic situation, 30 30 MEMOIRS expressed an earnest desire to have a home of her own. Mary, who felt nothing more pressing than to relieve the inconveniences of her friend, determined to accomplish this object for her. It cost her infinite exertions; but at length she was able to announce to Fanny that a house was prepared, and that she was on the spot to receive her. The answer which Fanny returned to the letter of her friend, consisted almost wholly of an enumeration of objections to the quitting her family, which she had not thought of before, but which now appeared to her of considerable weight.
The judgment which experience had taught Mary to form of the mind of her friend, deter- mined her in the advice she gave, at the period to which I have brought down the story. Fanny was recommended to seek a softer climate, but she had no funds to defray the expence of such an undertaking. At this time Mr. Hugh Skeys of Dublin, but then resident in the kingdom of Portugal, paid his addresses to her. The state of her health Mary con- sidered as such as scarcely to afford the shadow of a hope; it was not therefore a time at which it was most obvious to think of mar- riage. She conceived however that nothing should be omitted, which might alleviate, if it could not cure; and accordingly urged her speedy acceptance of the proposal. Fanny accordingly made the voyage to Lisbon; and the marriage took place on the twenty-fourth 31 WSS aa) ae de eS A,: 5 7 MEMOIRS of February 1785. [The advice of Mary in — this instance, though dictated by the sincerest anxiety for her friend’s welfare, is scarcely entitled to our approbation. | From ® change of climate and situation Fanny found but ® little benefit; and her life? was only prolonged by a period of preg- nancy, which soon declared itself. Mary, in the mean time, was impressed with the idea that her friend would die in this distant country; and, shocked with the recollection of her separation from the circle of her friends, determined to pass over to Lisbon to attend her. This resolution was treated by her acquaintance as in the utmost degree? visionary; but she was not to be diverted from her point. She had not money to defray her expenses: she must quit for a long time the school, the very existence of which prob- ably depended upon her exertions.
No person was ever better formed for the business of education; if it be not a sort of absurdity to speak of a person as formed for an inferior object, who is in possession of talents, in the fullest degree adequate to something on a more important and compre- hensive scale. Mary had a quickness of temper, not apt to take offence with inad- vertencies, but which led her to look into the 8 From] The rst ed. ® Fanny found but] was productive of 1st ed. 1 her life] the life of Fanny 1st ed. “in the utmost degree del. 32 MEMOIRS minds of her acquaintance, and to approve or be displeased, in proportion as they mani- fested those sentiments, which the persons and the treatment they met with, ought, as she conceived, to excite.2 She was occasion- ally severe and imperious in her resentments; and, when she strongly disapproved, was apt to express her censure in terms that gave a very humiliating sensation to the person against whom it was directed. Her dis- pleasure however never assumed its severest form, but when it was barbed by disappoint- ment. Where she expected little, she was not very rigid in her censure of error.
But, to whatever the defects of her temper might amount, they were never exercised upon‘ her inferiors in station or age. She scorned to make use of an ungenerous advan- tage, or to wound the defenceless. To her servants there never was a mistress more considerate or more kind. With children she was the mirror of patience. Perhaps, in all her extensive experience upon the subject of education, she never betrayed one symptom of irascibility. Her heart was the seat of every benevolent feeling; and accordingly, in all her intercourse with children, it was 3look into the minds...to excite.] imagine that she saw the mind of the person with whom she had any trans- action, and to refer the principle of her approbation or displeasure to the cordiality or injustice of their sentiments. Ist ed.
4 were never exercised upon] entered not into her inter- _ course with.
M.W. 33 Cc MEMOIRS kindness and sympathy alone that prompted — her conduct. Sympathy, when it mounts to a certain height, inevitably begets affection in the person towards whom it is exercised; and I have heard her say, that she never was concerned in the education of one child, who was not personally attached to her, and earnestly concerned not to incur her dis- pleasure. Another eminent advantage she possessed in the business of education, was that she was little troubled with scepticism and uncertainty. She saw, as it were by intuition, the path which her mind determined to pursue, and had a firm confidence in her own power to effect what she desired. Yet, with all this, she had scarcely a tincture of obstinacy. She carefully watched symptoms as they rose, and the success of her experi- ments; and governed herself accordingly. While I thus enumerate her more than maternal qualities, it is impossible not to feel a pang at the recollection of her orphan children!
Though her friends earnestly dissuaded her from the journey to Lisbon, she found among them a willingness to facilitate the execution of her project, when it was once fixed. Mrs. Burgh in particular, supplied her with money, which however she always conceived came from Dr. Price. This loan, I have reason to believe, was faithfully repaid.
Her residence in Lisbon was not long. She arrived but a short time before her friend was 34 t is thus that she speaks of her in her Letters from Norway, written ten years after Es eur. DHT ot, eee bee Aut ‘of ‘Macy’ s attach- ment, died on the twenty-ninth of November her decease. ‘‘ When a warm heart has received strong impressions, they are not to be effaced. Emotions become sentiments; and the imagination renders even transient _ sensations permanent, by fondly retracing them. I cannot, without a thrill of delight, recollect views I have seen, which are not to be forgotten,—nor looks I have felt in every nerve, which I shall never more meet. The grave has closed over a dear friend, the friend of my youth; still she is present with me, and _I hear her soft voice warbling as I stray over s] _ the heath.”
Loe) nr CHAPTER IV 1785-1787