LETTER LXI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWESUNDAY, JULY 30.
You have given me great pleasure, my dearest friend, by your approbationof my reasonings, and of my resolution founded upon them, never to haveMr. Lovelace. This approbation is so right a thing, give me leave tosay, from the nature of the case, and from the strict honour and truedignity of mind, which I always admired in my Anna Howe, that I couldhardly tell to what, but to my evil destiny, which of late would not letme please any body, to attribute the advice you gave me to the contrary.
But let not the ill state of my health, and what that may naturally tendto, sadden you. I have told you, that I will not run away from life, noravoid the means that may continue it, if God see fit: and if He do not,who shall repine at His will!
If it shall be found that I have not acted unworthy of your love, and ofmy own character, in my greater trials, that will be a happiness to bothon reflection.
The shock which you so earnestly advise me to try to get above, was ashock, the greatest that I could receive. But, my dear, as it was notoccasioned by my fault, I hope I am already got above it. I hope I am.
I am more grieved (at times however) for others, than for myself. And soI ought. For as to myself, I cannot but reflect that I have had anescape, rather than a loss, in missing Mr. Lovelace for a husband--evenhad he not committed the vilest of all outrages.
Let any one, who knows my story, collect his character from his behaviourto me before that outrage; and then judge whether it was in the leastprobable that such a man should make me happy. But to collect hischaracter from his principles with regard to the sex in general, and fromhis enterprizes upon many of them, and to consider the cruelty of hisnature, and the sportiveness of his invention, together with the highopinion he has of himself, it will not be doubted that a wife of his musthave been miserable; and more miserable if she loved him, than she couldhave been were she to be indifferent to him.
A twelvemonth might very probably have put a period to my life; situatedas I was with my friends; persecuted and harassed as I had been by mybrother and sister; and my very heart torn in pieces by the wilful, and(as it is now apparent) premeditated suspenses of the man, whosegratitude I wished to engage, and whose protection I was the moreentitled to expect, as he had robbed me of every other, and reduced me toan absolute dependence upon himself. Indeed I once thought that it wasall his view to bring me to this, (as he hated my family;) anduncomfortable enough for me, if it had been all.
Can it be thought, my dear, that my heart was not more than half broken(happy as I was before I knew Mr. Lovelace) by a grievous change in mycircumstances?--Indeed it was. Nor perhaps was the wicked violencewanting to have cut short, though possibly not so very short, a life thathe has sported with.
Had I been his but a month, he must have possessed the estate on which myrelations had set their hearts; the more to their regret, as they hatedhim as much as he hated them.
Have I not reason, these things considered, to think myself happierwithout Mr. Lovelace than I could have been with him?--My will toounviolated; and very little, nay, not any thing as to him, to reproachmyself with?
But with my relations it is otherwise. They indeed deserve to be pitied.They are, and no doubt will long be, unhappy.
To judge of their resentments, and of their conduct, we must putourselves in their situation:--and while they think me more in fault thanthemselves, (whether my favourers are of their opinion, or not,) and havea right to judge for themselves, they ought to have great allowances madefor them; my parents especially. They stand at least self-acquitted,(that I cannot;) and the rather, as they can recollect, to their pain,their past indulgencies to me, and their unquestionable love.
Your partiality for the friend you so much value will not easily let youcome into this way of thinking. But only, my dear, be pleased to considerthe matter in the following light.
'Here was my MOTHER, one of the most prudent persons of her sex, marriedinto a family, not perhaps so happily tempered as herself; but every oneof which she had the address, for a great while, absolutely to govern asshe pleased by her directing wisdom, at the same time that they knew notbut her prescriptions were the dictates of their own hearts; such a sweetheart had she of conquering by seeming to yield. Think, my dear, whatmust be the pride and the pleasure of such a mother, that in my brothershe could give a son to the family she distinguished with her love, notunworthy of their wishes; a daughter, in my sister, of whom she had noreason to be ashamed; and in me a second daughter, whom every bodycomplimented (such was their partial favour to me) as being the stillmore immediate likeness of herself? How, self pleased, could she smileround upon a family she had so blessed! What compliments were paid herupon the example she had given us, which was followed with such hopefuleffects! With what a noble confidence could she look upon her dear Mr.Harlowe, as a person made happy by her; and be delighted to think thatnothing but purity streamed from a fountain so pure!
'Now, my dear, reverse, as I daily do, this charming prospect. See mydear mother, sorrowing in her closet; endeavouring to suppress her sorrowat her table, and in those retirements where sorrow was before astranger: hanging down her pensive head: smiles no more beaming over herbenign aspect: her virtue made to suffer for faults she could not beguilty of: her patience continually tried (because she has more of itthan any other) with repetitions of faults she is as much wounded by, asthose can be from whom she so often hears of them: taking to herself, asthe fountain-head, a taint which only had infected one of theunder-currents: afraid to open her lips (were she willing) in my favour,lest it should be thought she has any bias in her own mind to failingsthat never could have been suspected in her: robbed of that pleasingmerit, which the mother of well-nurtured and hopeful children may gloryin: every one who visits her, or is visited by her, by dumb show, andlooks that mean more than words can express, condoling where they used tocongratulate: the affected silence wounding: the compassionating lookreminding: the half-suppressed sigh in them, calling up deeper sighs fromher; and their averted eyes, while they endeavour to restrain the risingtear, provoking tears from her, that will not be restrained.
'When I consider these things, and, added to these, the pangs that tearin pieces the stronger heart of my FATHER, because it cannot relieveitself by those which carry the torturing grief to the eyes of softerspirits: the overboiling tumults of my impatient and uncontroulableBROTHER, piqued to the heart of his honour, in the fall of a sister, inwhom he once gloried: the pride of an ELDER SISTER, who had givenunwilling way to the honours paid over her head to one born after her:and, lastly, the dishonour I have brought upon two UNCLES, who eachcontended which should most favour their then happy niece:--When, I say,I reflect upon my fault in these strong, yet just lights, what room canthere be to censure any body but my unhappy self? and how much reasonhave I to say, If I justify myself, mine own heart shall condemn me: if Isay I am perfect, it shall also prove me perverse?'
Here permit me to lay down my pen for a few moments.
***
You are very obliging to me, intentionally, I know, when you tell me, itis in my power to hasten the day of Mr. Hickman's happiness. But yet,give me leave to say, that I admire this kind assurance less than anyother paragraph of your letter.
In the first place you know it is not in my power to say when I candismiss my physician; and you should not put the celebration of amarriage intended by yourself, and so desirable to your mother, upon soprecarious an issue. Nor will I accept of a compliment, which must meana slight to her.
If any thing could give me a relish for life, after what I have suffered,it would be the hopes of the continuance of the more than sisterly love,which has, for years, uninterruptedly bound us together as one mind.--Andwhy, my dear, should you defer giving (by a tie still stronger) anotherfriend to one who has so few?
I am glad you have sent my letter to Miss Montague. I hope I shall hearno more of this unhappy man.
I had beg
un the particulars of my tragical story: but it is so painful atask, and I have so many more important things to do, and, as Iapprehend, so little time to do them in, that, could I avoid it, I wouldgo no farther in it.
Then, to this hour, I know not by what means several of his machinationsto ruin me were brought about; so that some material parts of my sadstory must be defective, if I were to sit down to write it. But I havebeen thinking of a way that will answer the end wished for by your motherand you full as well, perhaps better.
Mr. Lovelace, it seems, had communicated to his friend Mr. Belford allthat has passed between himself and me, as he went on. Mr. Belford hasnot been able to deny it. So that (as we may observe by the way) a pooryoung creature, whose indiscretion has given a libertine power over her,has a reason she little thinks of, to regret her folly; since thesewretches, who have no more honour in one point than in another, scruplenot to make her weakness a part of their triumph to their brotherlibertines.
I have nothing to apprehend of this sort, if I have the justice done mein his letters which Mr. Belford assures me I have: and therefore theparticulars of my story, and the base arts of this vile man, will, Ithink, be best collected from those very letters of his, (if Mr. Belfordcan be prevailed upon to communicate them;) to which I dare appeal withthe same truth and fervour as he did, who says--O that one would hear me!and that mine adversary had written a book!--Surely, I would take it uponmy shoulders, and bind it to me as a crown! for I covered not mytransgressions as Adam, by hiding mine iniquity in my bosom.
There is one way which may be fallen upon to induce Mr. Belford tocommunicate these letters; since he seems to have (and declares he alwayshad) a sincere abhorrence of his friend's baseness to me: but that,you'll say, when you hear it, is a strange one. Nevertheless, I am veryearnest upon it at present.
It is no other than this:
I think to make Mr. Belford the executor of my last will: [don't besurprised:] and with this view I permit his visits with the less scruple:and every time I see him, from his concern for me, am more and moreinclined to do so. If I hold in the same mind, and if he accept thetrust, and will communicate the materials in his power, those, joinedwith what you can furnish, will answer the whole end.
I know you will start at my notion of such an executor; but pray, mydear, consider, in my present circumstances, what I can do better, as Iam empowered to make a will, and have considerable matters in my owndisposal.
Your mother, I am sure, would not consent that you should take thisoffice upon you. It might subject Mr. Hickman to the insults of thatviolent man. Mrs. Norton cannot, for several reasons respecting herself.My brother looks upon what I ought to have as his right. My uncleHarlowe is already one of my trustees (as my cousin Morden is the other)for the estate my grandfather left me: but you see I could not get frommy own family the few guineas I left behind me at Harlowe-place; and myuncle Antony once threatened to have my grandfather's will controverted.My father!--To be sure, my dear, I could not expect that my father woulddo all I wish should be done: and a will to be executed by a father for adaughter, (parts of it, perhaps, absolutely against his own judgment,)carries somewhat daring and prescriptive in the very word.
If indeed my cousin Morden were to come in time, and would undertake thistrust--but even him it might subject to hazards; and the more, as he is aman of great spirit; and as the other man (of as great) looks upon me(unprotected as I have long been) as his property.
Now Mr. Belford, as I have already mentioned, knows every thing that haspassed. He is a man of spirit, and, it seems, as fearless as the other,with more humane qualities. You don't know, my dear, what instances ofsincere humanity this Mr. Belford has shown, not only on occasion of thecruel arrest, but on several occasions since. And Mrs. Lovick has takenpains to inquire after his general character; and hears a very good oneof him, his justice and generosity in all his concerns of meum and tuum,as they are called: he has a knowledge of law-matters; and has twoexecutorships upon him at this time, in the discharge of which his honouris unquestioned.
All these reasons have already in a manner determined me to ask thisfavour of him; although it will have an odd sound with it to make anintimate friend of Mr. Lovelace my executor.
This is certain: my brother will be more acquiescent a great deal in sucha case with the articles of the will, as he will see that it will be tono purpose to controvert some of them, which else, I dare say, he wouldcontrovert, or persuade my other friends to do so. And who would involvean executor in a law-suit, if they could help it?--Which would be thecase, if any body were left, whom my brother could hope to awe orcontroul; since my father has possession of all, and is absolutelygoverned by him. [Angry spirits, my dear, as I have often seen, will beovercome by more angry ones, as well as sometimes be disarmed by themeek.]--Nor would I wish, you may believe, to have effects torn out of myfather's hands: while Mr. Belford, who is a man of fortune, (and a goodeconomist in his own affairs) would have no interest but to do justice.
Then he exceedingly presses for some occasion to show his readiness toserve me: and he would be able to manage his violent friend, over whom hehas more influence than any other person.
But after all, I know not if it were not more eligible by far, that mystory, and myself too, should be forgotten as soon as possible. And ofthis I shall have the less doubt, if the character of my parents [youwill forgive my, my dear] cannot be guarded against the unqualifiedbitterness which, from your affectionate zeal for me, has sometimesmingled with your ink--a point that ought, and (I insist upon it) must bewell considered of, if any thing be done which your mother and you aredesirous to have done. The generality of the world is too apt to opposea duty--and general duties, my dear, ought not to be weakened by thejustification of a single person, however unhappily circumstanced.
My father has been so good as to take off the heavy malediction he laidme under. I must be now solicitous for a last blessing; and that is allI shall presume to petition for. My sister's letter, communicating thisgrace, is a severe one: but as she writes to me as from every body, howcould I expect it to be otherwise?
If you set out to-morrow, this letter cannot reach you till you get toyour aunt Harman's. I shall therefore direct it thither, as Mr. Hickmaninstructed me.
I hope you will have met with no inconveniencies in your little journeyand voyage; and that you will have found in good health all whom you wishto see well.
If your relations in the little island join their solicitations with yourmother's commands, to have your nuptials celebrated before you leavethem, let me beg of you, my dear, to oblige them. How grateful will thenotification that you have done so be to
Your ever faithful and affectionateCL. HARLOWE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7 Page 60