Part 8 (1/2)
I do not mean to complain of subordinate inconveniences----yet I will simply observe, that, led to expect you every week, I did not make the arrangements required by the present circ.u.mstances, to procure the necessaries of life. In order to have them, a servant, for that purpose only, is indispensible--The want of wood, has made me catch the most violent cold I ever had; and my head is so disturbed by continual coughing, that I am unable to write without stopping frequently to recollect myself.--This however is one of the common evils which must be borne with----bodily pain does not touch the heart, though it fatigues the spirits.
Still as you talk of your return, even in February, doubtingly, I have determined, the moment the weather changes, to wean my child.--It is too soon for her to begin to divide sorrow!--And as one has well said, ”despair is a freeman,” we will go and seek our fortune together.
This is not a caprice of the moment--for your absence has given new weight to some conclusions, that I was very reluctantly forming before you left me.--I do not chuse to be a secondary object.--If your feelings were in unison with mine, you would not sacrifice so much to visionary prospects of future advantage.
MARY.
LETTER x.x.xIII
_[Paris] Jan. 15 [1795]._
I was just going to begin my letter with the f.a.g end of a song, which would only have told you, what I may as well say simply, that it is pleasant to forgive those we love. I have received your two letters, dated the 26th and 28th of December, and my anger died away. You can scarcely conceive the effect some of your letters have produced on me. After longing to hear from you during a tedious interval of suspense, I have seen a superscription written by you.--Promising myself pleasure, and feeling emotion, I have laid it by me, till the person who brought it, left the room--when, behold! on opening it, I have found only half a dozen hasty lines, that have damped all the rising affection of my soul.
Well, now for business--
My animal is well; I have not yet taught her to eat, but nature is doing the business. I gave her a crust to a.s.sist the cutting of her teeth; and now she has two, she makes good use of them to gnaw a crust, biscuit, &c.
You would laugh to see her; she is just like a little squirrel; she will guard a crust for two hours; and, after fixing her eye on an object for some time, dart on it with an aim as sure as a bird of prey--nothing can equal her life and spirits. I suffer from a cold; but it does not affect her. Adieu! do not forget to love us--and come soon to tell us that you do.
MARY.
LETTER x.x.xIV
_[Paris] Jan. 30 [1795]._
From the purport of your last letters, I should suppose that this will scarcely reach you; and I have already written so many letters, that you have either not received, or neglected to acknowledge, I do not find it pleasant, or rather I have no inclination, to go over the same ground again. If you have received them, and are still detained by new projects, it is useless for me to say any more on the subject. I have done with it for ever; yet I ought to remind you that your pecuniary interest suffers by your absence.
For my part, my head is turned giddy, by only hearing of plans to make money, and my contemptuous feelings have sometimes burst out. I therefore was glad that a violent cold gave me a pretext to stay at home, lest I should have uttered unseasonable truths.
My child is well, and the spring will perhaps restore me to myself.--I have endured many inconveniences this winter, which should I be ashamed to mention, if they had been unavoidable. ”The secondary pleasures of life,”
you say, ”are very necessary to my comfort:” it may be so; but I have ever considered them as secondary. If therefore you accuse me of wanting the resolution necessary to bear the _common_[10] evils of life; I should answer, that I have not fas.h.i.+oned my mind to sustain them, because I would avoid them, cost what it would----
Adieu!
MARY.
LETTER x.x.xV
_[Paris] February 9 [1795]._