Eliza Fenwick, Barbados, to Mary Hays, 20 May 1817.1 Barbadoes May 20th 1817 Blame me not oh my
friend for a silence which is (I ought perhaps to be ashamed to say it) solace
to me. My pen is no longer that of a ready writer. I look at it with abhorrence – I loath – I shudder
at its use. To write a letter even to you nearest & dearest of
friends is a task I fly from. It renews the severest anguish that anguish that
I have taken such laborious pains to subdue. Overwhelmed with occupation almost
beyond my bodily as well as mental strength I pass from ^active^ employment to
my chamber & ^there^ my wearied limbs & faculties ^soon^ sink into the
torpor of sleep – Sleep is my balm & my blessing – It often gives me back
the treasure I have lost – But Ah then what a waking moment is mine! Just such
are the moments if I attempt writing. I dread to receive a letter for I cannot endure
to think of the answer. Yet inconsistent as it may seem I love to think of you,
to feel the soothing consciousness of your affection and sympathy to remember
our past moments of precious intercourse[.] All this seems to me as something
long since past & never never to be renewed, and produces nearly the same
mingled sensation of pain & solace which I feel when I sit & listen to
the praises of my noble my departed boy. Who does not praise him? Who does not
regret Orlando! I did not know that he was half so highly estimated except
among casual observers – Ah me – Ah me! I must burst asunder when I kiss’d for
the last time the breathless lips of my boy. Indeed indeed I believe many
mothers bereaved of such a son would have expired & gone to the grave with
him, but I live, eat drink talk & enter into some of the busiest scenes of
life contrive for the present, speculate for the future and all just as if he
were still here. No – not so either. The interest the charm of life of
prosperity is all gone. I busy myself with tenfold earnestness to what I did
before. Never did I seem to be so engrossed by my business, never did I cling
so closely to the cares of the family as I now do – not from interest, but from
repugnance to encounter myself alone – to commune with my own thoughts – to
court such emotions as now while writing to you shake every fibre of my frame.
To my share of the business of the school I have discharged our Housekeeper
& added her duties. This may appear no great matter This anguish will be wearied down, I know; What pang is permanent with man? – From the highest As from the vilest thing of every day He learns to wean himself for the strong hours Conquer him. – Yet I feel what I have lost In him. The bloom is vanish’d from my life. For Oh! he stood beside me, like my youth Transform’d for me the seal to a dream, Cloathing the palpable, & the familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn. Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, The beautiful is vanish’d – and returns not.”2 A gleam like ^that of^ a wintry sun spread over the darkness of our regrets when Eliza pass’d her critical hour & brought us a little girl, one of the finest babes I ever beheld. I love her children particularly the second boy whose temper & character will I think resemble Orlando’s, but that love serves to remind me of a more ripened affection. Pat our eldest now in his fourth year cherishes the memory of his Uncle with a feeling, beyond what I could have supposed possible at his age. I have a fresh sorrow in the misfortunes that have befallen Lanno’s employer since his death. He has lost £9,000, & assures me that upwards of seven thousand of the sum would have been saved to him had Orlando lived. Every thing has gone wrong since. When you talk of retribution dear Friend I look back to seek for the cause of my infliction. Well Well – I must bear it for I cannot fly from it. Mentioning that to Eliza that I was going to send you the letter I wrote at the time of the insurrection Mr R— beg’d he might first take a copy of it. I will therefore enclose it the next opportunity & if I can write at the same time. I wanted much to send home £100 by
this packet & ^have^ given an order on it for paying you, but we
have several hundreds locked up & cannot get at a penny If it were not for Eliza’s children I should give up this life of toil to which I grow every day more averse while more engaged by it. Orlando used to tell me I had but two years to toil & then he would find me ease & competence. Falacious dream! Mournful burthensome reality! I am
sending away now letters to his Father which were found among his Farewell my excellent my worthy friend! Pity me pray for me & still try to love me, worthless, selfish & desponding as I must ever remain while I live to subscribe myself yours affectionately E Fenwick Address: None Postmark: None 1 Fenwick Family Papers, Correspondence, 1798-1855, New York Historical Library; Wedd, Fate of the Fenwicks 187-90; not in Brooks, Correspondence. 2 Lines taken from Coleridge’s translation of Schiller’s Wallenstein. |
MARY HAYS: LIFE, WRITINGS, AND CORRESPONDENCE > MARY HAYS CORRESPONDENCE > 1810-1819 > 1817 >