Lady Morgan’s Memoirs
Sydney Owenson to Thomas Charles Morgan, November 1811
Wednesday, November, 1811.
“Tout homme n’est
pas maître de sa propre vie,” if he has, by
all the arts in his power, made that life indis-![]()
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pensably
necessary to the happiness of another—this you have done. Your life and
love are necessary to my happiness. I did not seek to associate myself with
either; it was you involved me, and you must abide by it. You must live to love
me, and to be loved by me. Gracious God! how your letters harrow up my soul! I
would not willingly, purposely, give you one pang for the best joy of my
existence, and yet I, too, am cruel, unavoidably so. The various feelings by
which I am eternally agitated and distracted, throw me into various tempers,
and I pass from one strong emotion to another, almost insensible to their
successive influence. I am the victim of the moment, and moments, and days and
weeks, are to me but various seasons of suffering, each, in their way, too
acute to be long sustained.
The gaieties I mix in, are unparticipated by others. You
mistake me totally if you suppose I am the light, volatile, inconsequent wretch
you paint me. Much as I am, and ought to be, flattered
by the attention and kindness of a very large circle of respectable and
distinguished friends; intimately associated as are all my feelings, and
habits, and social pursuits with my sentiments for them, still, it is not they
nor the festivals they give me, that could have a moment’s influence with
me. Oh, no, it is a far deeper feeling.
Yes, Morgan, I
will be yours, I hope, I trust; God give me strength to go through with it! I
mean to leave this house clandestinely; Clarke only in my secret. My poor
father! I am very ill—obliged to assist Livy, last night, with a heavy heart. The
fa-![]()
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tigue, added to a bad cold and a settled cough, has
produced a horrible state of exhaustion and nervous lowness. I scarce know what
I write; your letters have overpowered me; my head is disordered and wild. You
distrust me, and whether I marry or reject you, my misery is certain. Still I
love you, oh! more than tenderly. I lean my aching head upon your heart, my
sole asylum, my best and dearest friend. I must cease to write. The physique
carries it. Tomorrow I shall be in better health. Adieu.
Yours,
S. O.
Sir Arthur Clarke (1778-1857)
Irish physician and fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons; in 1808 he married Olivia
Owenson, sister of Lady Morgan.
Lady Olivia Clarke [née Owenson] (1785 c.-1845)
The younger sister of Lady Morgan who married Dublin physician Sir Arthur Clarke
(1778-1857) in 1808. She wrote songs and a play, and published in the
Metropolitan Magazine and
Athenaeum.
Sir Thomas Charles Morgan (1780-1843)
English physician and philosophical essayist who married the novelist Sydney Owenson in
1812; he was the author of
Sketches of the Philosophy of Morals
(1822). He corresponded with Cyrus Redding.
