A Vindication of the Rights of Woman | Page 5

her an
opportunity of judging what those powers were, in the estimation of
others. It was shortly after this, that she commenced the work to which
these remarks are prefixed. What are its merits will be decided in the
judgment of each reader; suffice it to say she appears to have stept forth
boldly, and singly, in defence of that half of the human race, which by
the usages of all society, whether savage or civilized, have been kept
from attaining their proper dignity--their equal rank as rational beings.
It would appear that the disguise used in placing on woman the silken

fetters which bribed her into endurance, and even love of slavery, but
increased the opposition of our authoress: she would have had more
patience with rude, brute coercion, than with that imposing gallantry,
which, while it affects to consider woman as the pride, and ornament of
creation, degrades her to a toy--an appendage--a cypher. The work was
much reprehended, and as might well be expected, found its greatest
enemies in the pretty soft creatures--the spoiled children of her own sex.
She accomplished it in six weeks.
In 1792 she removed to Paris, where she became acquainted with
Gilbert Imlay, of the United States. And from this acquaintance grew
an attachment, which brought the parties together, without legal
formalities, to which she objected on account of some family
embarrassments, in which he would thereby become involved. The
engagement was however considered by her of the most sacred nature,
and they formed the plan of emigrating to America, where they should
be enabled to accomplish it. These were the days of Robespierrean
cruelty, and Imlay left Paris for Havre, whither after a time Mary
followed him. They continued to reside there, until he left Havre for
London, under pretence of business, and with a promise of rejoining
her soon at Paris, which however he did not, but in 1795 sent for her to
London. In the mean time she had become the mother of a female child,
whom she called Frances in commemoration of her early friendship.
Before she went to England, she had some gloomy forebodings that the
affections of Imlay, had waned, if they were not estranged from her; on
her arrival, those forebodings were sorrowfully confirmed. His
attentions were too formal and constrained to pass unobserved by her
penetration, and though he ascribed his manner, and his absence, to
business duties, she saw his affection for her was only something to be
remembered. To use her own expression, "Love, dear delusion!
Rigorous reason has forced me to resign; and now my rational
prospects are blasted, just as I have learned to be contented with
rational enjoyments." To pretend to depict her misery at this time
would be futile; the best idea can be formed of it from the fact that she
had planned her own destruction, from which Imlay prevented her. She
conceived the idea of suicide a second time, and threw herself into the
Thames; she remained in the water, until consciousness forsook her,
but she was taken up and resuscitated. After divers attempts to revive

the affections of Imlay, with sundry explanations and professions on
his part, through the lapse of two years, she resolved finally to forgo all
hope of reclaiming him, and endeavour to think of him no more in
connexion with her future prospects. In this she succeeded so well, that
she afterwards had a private interview with him, which did not produce
any painful emotions.
In 1796 she revived or improved an acquaintance which commenced
years before with Wm. Godwin, author of "Political Justice," and other
works of great notoriety. Though they had not been favourably
impressed with each other on their former acquaintance, they now met
under circumstances which permitted a mutual and just appreciation of
character. Their intimacy increased by regular and almost imperceptible
degrees. The partiality they conceived for each other was, according to
her biographer, "In the most refined style of love. It grew with equal
advances in the mind of each. It would have been impossible for the
most minute observer to have said who was before, or who after. One
sex did not take the priority which long established custom has
awarded it, nor the other overstep that delicacy which is so severely
imposed. Neither party could assume to have been the agent or the
patient, the toil-spreader or the prey in the affair. When in the course of
things the disclosure came, there was nothing in a manner for either to
disclose to the other."
Mary lived but a few months after her marriage, and died in child-bed;
having given birth to a daughter who is now known to the literary
world as Mrs. Shelly, the widow of Percy Bysche Shelly.
We can scarcely avoid regret