Erica Mathews' Canonball

Mary Wollstonecraft: from Letters to Gilbert Imlay

Literature, among other things, is a means of depicting real life. In our class, we have discovered the fruits of cross-referencing poems with real-life accounts, as with the Wordsworths’ leech-gatherer. Never have we, however, looked at work which chronicles an author’s development over time. Letters to Gilbert Imlay gives an intriguing timeline of Mary Wollstonecraft’s attitudes in her affair with Imlay, years after the publishing of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. More intriguing, however, is the discussion that may be found in her apparent weakness and betrayal of women’s rights, the painful lesson from her love affair, comparison to ideas in other literary works, and possible real-life evidence of the need for improved female education.

Letter II was written in August 1793, around the time Mary Wollstonecraft and Gilbert Imlay became lovers. The optimism with which Wollstonecraft proclaims that “whilst you love me, I cannot again fall into that miserable state which rendered life a burden too heavy to be borne” is striking (and ironic, in light of her future suicide attempts), but those who have read A Vindication of the Rights of Women might be more perplexed by the subservience with which she promises to Imlay that she will “be good” (Wollstonecraft 426) for his sake. She mentions schemes for employment, but it seems to spring from a hope to support him. Furthermore she suggests she only thought of them “now that I am confident my heart has found peace in your bosom” (Wollstonecraft 426). At the conclusion of the letter, she indulges maudlin sentiment in imagining giving him a kiss and “glowing with gratitude to Heaven, and affection to you” (Wollstonecraft 426). This abandon to such intense affections flies in the face of her claim that women should be taught to be more rational and less emotional; Wollstonecraft seems to have betrayed her principles to traditional ideals of romantic love. Anna Barbauld might use this example to support her claim that the relevance of the women’s rights movement dissolves when women get married, that “separate rights are lost in mutual love” (Barbauld line 32); conservatives in general might read the letter with a smirk. Indeed, if the leading speaker of women’s rights throws out her own teachings so readily, how can the movement as a whole be taken seriously?

But Letter II is only part one of six installments given in our book; the saga continues with Letter XXI, written a month after Letter II. Mary Wollstonecraft is in Le Havre, France while Gilbert Imlay is in London on one of his business ventures. Wollstonecraft still exhibits some sentimentality seen in Letter II, but here she interjects philosophy. She writes to Imlay, “your attention to my happiness should arise as much from love, which is always rather a selfish passion, as reason” (Wollstonecraft 427); in other words, she cannot love a man whose kindness towards her comes only from the goodness of his heart, and not from a selfish desire to please her. Still a far-cry from the ideals of her earlier work, this section fleetingly returns to the structure of proposition and support seen in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, evidence of Wollstonecraft’s slow return to rationality after the initial upheavals of her love affair. She is still a slave to her affections: “I lament that all my affections grow on me, till they become too strong for my peace” (Wollstonecraft 427). But the fact that she recognizes and even laments this state indicates that she retains her original values. Her effort to comfort herself at this letter’s conclusion and in the subsequent Letter XXIV, clinging to faith in her love for Imlay, is a symptom of a dying infatuation; even in Letter XXI and Letter XXIV, Wollstonecraft’s affections for him seem to fade.

Five months later, Letter XXXV shows a dramatic shift in attitude towards Gilbert Imlay. Even before she discovers his mistress, Mary Wollstonecraft calls Imlay out for his inability to write satisfactory letters and for waffling on whether he should return to France or summon Wollstonecraft to London. Already there emerges a breach in a woman’s perfect domestic existence; Wollstonecraft, though not married to Imlay, writes a likely sentiment of many married women: “indeed my head turns giddy, when I think that all the confidence I have had in the affections of others is come to this” (Wollstonecraft 427). This example brings into question how long Anna Barbauld’s all-powerful “mutual love” (Barbauld line 32) lasts, and what should happen afterwards. Wollstonecraft answers this with perhaps the greatest show of rationality seen so far in the letters: infant daughter in tow, she means to work, “for do not suppose that, neglected by you, I will lie under obligations of a pecuniary kind to you!” (Wollstonecraft 428). However, her suicide attempt at the discovery of Imlay’s affair complicates the reading. Letter LV shows Wollstonecraft dwelling again on her love for Imlay, in utter despair at the bitter disappointment it has brought. The letter’s reflections and knowledge of both of her suicide attempts show definite vulnerability in Wollstonecraft’s character. However, they also show Imlay’s many shortcomings as he pulls Wollstonecraft into poverty, leaves her for failed business ventures, begins an affair, and continues the same affair despite Wollstonecraft’s first reaction to it.

The list of grievances continues in the final letter, Letter LXXVIII. According to Mary Wollstonecraft, Gilbert Imlay has been shown “to term mere animal desire, the source of principle” (Wollstonecraft 429) in an attempt to justify his affair, and to make Wollstonecraft’s tender ideals “the brunt of your sarcasms” (Wollstonecraft 428). Not only does Imlay disdain Wollstonecraft’s ideals at a most vulnerable point in her life, but he twists words and principles to fit his purposes. If proof lacked before, it lies plain in this letter: a man cannot always be dependable for a woman’s happiness. Wollstonecraft salvages what face she can in a new affirmation of the value of her own life: “I now solemnly assure you, that this is an eternal farewel.—Yet I flinch not from the duties which tie me to life” (Wollstonecraft 428).

Mary Wollstonecraft’s suicide attempts were the subject of public scorn and may be seen as evidence of her weakness of character. One might suggest, however, that rather than discrediting Wollstonecraft’s earlier feminist works, this works as a case-in-point of what Wollstonecraft believed about female education. Though a feminist thinker as an adult, Wollstonecraft grew up in an environment that did not prepare women for the potential disappointments of life and romantic love; it can be argued that a better education could have prevented her irrational reaction to Imlay’s affairs—or even better, taught her to be more cautious when putting her faith in a man so that the whole disastrous affair might never happen. Wollstonecraft’s painful lesson also shows that a woman’s financial security is not guaranteed, even in a relationship with a man, making education for employable skills important even for women who plan to marry.

In sum, Mary Wollstonecraft’s Letters to Gilbert Imlay enrich the biography of a preeminent feminist writer of the Romantic Era, but they also serve as a paradox rich with discussion as readers consider the public outcry against Wollstonecraft’s actions against striking evidence in support of Wollstonecraft’s early positions. Letters to Gilbert Imlay would connect the discussion of women’s rights in literature to real life and provide fertile ground for cross-referencing the work of conservative and progressive literature alike with each other and with events surrounding them.

Word count: 1,250

Draft of Erica's Canonball