LETTER XXXIV
MR. WYERLEY, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWEWEDNESDAY, AUG. 23.
DEAREST MADAM,
You will be surprised to find renewed, at this distance of time, anaddress so positively though so politely discouraged: but, however it bereceived, I must renew it. Every body has heard that you have beenvilely treated by a man who, to treat you ill, must be the vilest of men.Every body knows your just resentment of his base treatment: that you aredetermined never to be reconciled to him: and that you persist in thesesentiments against all the entreaties of his noble relations, against allthe prayers and repentance of his ignoble self. And all the world thathave the honour to know you, or have heard of him, applaud yourresolution, as worthy of yourself; worthy of your virtue, and of thatstrict honour which was always attributed to you by every one who spokeof you.
But, Madam, were all the world to have been of a different opinion, itcould never have altered mine. I ever loved you; I ever must love you.Yet have I endeavoured to resign to my hard fate. When I had so manyways, in vain, sought to move you in my favour, I sat down seeminglycontented. I even wrote to you that I would sit down contented. And Iendeavoured to make all my friends and companions think I was. Butnobody knows what pangs this self-denial cost me! In vain did the chace,in vain did travel, in vain did lively company, offer themselves, andwere embraced in their turn: with redoubled force did my passion for yourenew my unhappiness, when I looked into myself, into my own heart; forthere did your charming image sit enthroned; and you engrossed me all.
I truly deplore those misfortunes, and those sufferings, for your ownsake; which nevertheless encourage me to renew my old hope. I know notparticulars. I dare not inquire after them; because my sufferings wouldbe increased with the knowledge of what your's have been. I thereforedesire not the know more than what common report wounds my ears with; andwhat is given me to know, by your absence from your cruel family, andfrom the sacred place, where I, among numbers of your rejected admirers,used to be twice a week sure to behold you doing credit to that serviceof which your example gave me the highest notions. But whatever be thosemisfortunes, of whatsoever nature those sufferings, I shall bless theoccasion for my own sake (though for your's curse the author of them,) ifthey may give me the happiness to know that this my renewed address maynot be absolutely rejected.--Only give me hope, that it may one day meetwith encouragement, if in the interim nothing happen, either in my moralsor behaviour, to give you fresh offence. Give me but hope of this--notabsolutely to reject me is all the hope I ask for; and I will love you,if possible, still more than I ever loved you--and that for yoursufferings; for well you deserve to be loved, even to adoration, who can,for honour's and for virtue's sake, subdue a passion which common spirits[I speak by cruel experience] find invincible; and this at a time whenthe black offender kneels and supplicates, as I am well assured he does,(all his friends likewise supplicating for him,) to be forgiven.
That you cannot forgive him, not forgive him so as to receive him againto favour, is no wonder. His offence is against virtue: this is a partof your essence. What magnanimity is this! How just to yourself, and toyour spotless character! Is it any merit to admire more than ever a ladywho can so exaltedly distinguish? It is not. I cannot plead it.
What hope have I left, may it be said, when my address was beforerejected, now, that your sufferings, so nobly borne, have, with all thegood judges, exalted your character? Yet, Madam, I have to pride myselfin this, that while your friends (not looking upon you in the just lightI do) persecute and banish you; while your estate is withheld from you,and threatened (as I know,) to be withheld, as long as the chicaning law,or rather the chicaneries of its practisers, can keep it from you: whileyou are destitute of protection; every body standing aloof, eitherthrough fear of the injurer of one family, or of the hard-hearted of theother; I pride myself, I say, to stand forth, and offer my fortune, andmy life, at your devotion. With a selfish hope indeed: I should be toogreat an hypocrite not to own this! and I know how much you abhorinsincerity.
But, whether you encourage that hope or not, accept my best services, Ibeseech you, Madam: and be pleased to excuse me for a piece of honestart, which the nature of the case (doubting the honour of your noticeotherwise) makes me choose to conclude with--it is this:
If I am to be still the most unhappy of men, let your pen by one linetell me so. If I am permitted to indulge a hope, however distant, yoursilence shall be deemed, by me, the happiest indication of it that youcan give--except that still happier--(the happiest than can befall me,)a signification that you will accept the tender of that life and fortune,which it would be my pride and my glory to sacrifice in your service,leaving the reward to yourself.
Be your determination as it may, I must for ever admire and love you.Nor will I ever change my condition, while you live, whether you changeyour's or not: for, having once had the presumption to address you, Icannot stoop to think of any other woman: and this I solemnly declare inthe presence of that God, whom I daily pray to bless and protect you, beyour determination what it will with regard to, dearest Madam,
Your most devoted and ever affectionateand faithful servant,ALEXANDER WYERLEY.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 Page 35