MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8.
After my last, so full of other hopes, the contents of this will surprise
you. O my dearest friend, the man has at last proved himself to be a
villain!
It was with the utmost difficulty last night, that I preserved myself from
the vilest dishonour. He extorted from me a promise of forgiveness,
and that I would see him next day, as if nothing had happened: but if it
were possible to escape from a wretch, who, as I have too much reason to
believe, formed a plot to fire the house, to frighten me, almost naked,
into his arms, how could I see him next day?
I have escaped--Heaven be praised that I have!--And now have no other
concern, than that I fly from the only hope that could have made such a
husband tolerable to me; the reconciliation with my friends, so agreeably
undertaken by my uncle.
All my present hope is, to find some reputable family, or person of my
own sex, who is obliged to go beyond sea, or who lives abroad; I care not
whether; but if I might choose, in some one of our American colonies--
never to be heard of more by my relations, whom I have so grievously
offended.
Nor let your generous heart be moved at what I write. If I can escape
the dreadfullest part of my father's malediction, (for the temporary part
is already, in a manner, fulfilled, which makes me tremble in
apprehension of the other,) I shall think the wreck of my worldly
fortunes a happy composition.
Neither is there need of the renewal of your so-often-tendered goodness
to me: for I have with me rings and other valuables, that were sent me
with my clothes, which will turn into money to answer all I can want,
till Providence shall be pleased to put me into some want to help myself,
if, for my further punishment, my life is to be lengthened beyond my
wishes.
Impute not this scheme, my beloved friend, either to dejection on one
hand, or to that romantic turn on the other, which we have supposed
generally to obtain with our sex, from fifteen to twenty-two: for, be
pleased to consider my unhappy situation, in the light in which it really
must appear to every considerate person who knows it. In the first
place, the man, who has endeavoured to make me, his property, will hunt
me as a stray: and he knows he may do so with impunity; for whom have I
to protect me from him?
Then as to my estate, the envied estate, which has been the original
cause of all my misfortunes, it shall never be mine upon litigated terms.
What is there in being enabled to boast, that I am worth more than I can
use, or wish to use? And if my power is circumscribed, I shall not have
that to answer for, which I should have, if I did not use it as I ought:
which very few do. I shall have no husband, of whose interest I ought to
be so regardful, as to prevent me doing more than justice to others, that
I may not do less for him. If therefore my father will be pleased (as I
shall presume, in proper time, to propose to him) to pay two annuities
out of it, one to my dear Mrs. Norton, which may make her easy for the
remainder of her life, as she is now growing into years; the other of
50£. per annum, to the same good woman, for the use of my poor, as I had
the vanity to call a certain set of people, concerning whom she knows all
my mind; that so as few as possible may suffer by the consequences of my
error; God bless them, and give them heart's ease and content, with the
rest!
Other reasons for my taking the step I have hinted at, are these.
This wicked man knows I have no friend in the world but you: your
neighbourhood therefore would be the first he would seek for me in, were
you to think it possible for me to be concealed in it: and in this case
you might be subjected to inconveniencies greater even than those which
you have already sustained on my account.
From my cousin Morden, were he to come, I could not hope protection;
since, by his letter to me, it is evident, that my brother has engaged him
in his party: nor would I, by any means, subject so worthy a man to
danger; as might be the case, from the violence of this ungovernable
spirit.
These things considered, what better method can I take, than to go abroad
to some one of the English colonies; where nobody but yourself shall know
any thing of me; nor you, let me tell you, presently, nor till I am
fixed, and (if it please God) in a course of living tolerably to my mind?
For it is no small part of my concern, that my indiscretions have laid so
heavy a tax upon you, my dear friend, to whom, once, I hoped to give more
pleasure than pain.
I am at present at one Mrs. Moore's at Hampstead. My heart misgave me at
coming to this village, because I had been here with him more than once:
but the coach hither was so ready a conveniency, that I knew not what to
do better. Then I shall stay here no longer than till I can receive your
answer to this: in which you will be pleased to let me know, if I cannot
be hid, according to your former contrivance, [happy, had I given into it
at the time!] by Mrs. Townsend's assistance, till the heat of his search
be over. The Deptford road, I imagine, will be the right direction to
hear of a passage, and to get safely aboard.
O why was the great fiend of all unchained, and permitted to assume so
specious a form, and yet allowed to conceal his feet and his talons, till
with the one he was ready to trample upon my honour, and to strike the
other into my heart!--And what had I done, that he should be let loose
particularly upon me!
Forgive me this murmuring question, the effect of my impatience, my
guilty impatience, I doubt: for, as I have escaped with my honour, and
nothing but my worldly prospects, and my pride, my ambition, and my
vanity, have suffered in this wretch of my hopefuller fortunes, may I not
still be more happy than I deserve to be? And is it not in my own power
still, by the Divine favour, to secure the greatest stake of all? And
who knows but that this very path into which my inconsideration has
thrown me, strewed as it is with briers and thorns, which tear in pieces
my gaudier trappings, may not be the right path to lead me into the great
road to my future happiness; which might have been endangered by evil
communication?
And after all, are there not still more deserving persons than I, who
never failed in any capital point of duty, than have been more humbled
than myself; and some too, by the errors of parents and relations, by the
tricks and baseness of guardians and trustees, and in which their own
rashness or folly had no part?
I will then endeavour to make the best of my present lot. And join with
me, my best, my only friend, in praying, that my punishment may end here;
and that my present afflictions may be sanctified to me.
This letter will enable you to account for a line or two, which I sent to
Wilson's, to be carried to you, only for a feint, to get his servant out
of the way. He seemed to be left, as I thought, for a spy upon me. But
he returning too soon, I was forced to write a few lines for him to carry
to his master, to a tavern near Doctors Commons, with the same view: and
this happily answered my end.
I wrote early in the morning a bitter letter to the wretch, which I left
for him obvious enough; and I suppose he has it by this time. I kept no
copy of it. I shall recollect the contents, and give you the particulars
of all, at more leisure.
I am sure you will approve of my escape--the rather, as the people of the
house must be very vile: for they, and that Dorcas too, did hear me (I
know they did) cry out for help: if the fire had been other than a
villanous plot (although in the morning, to blind them, I pretended to
think it otherwise) they would have been alarmed as much as I; and have
run in, hearing me scream, to comfort me, supposing my terror was the
fire; to relieve me, supposing it was any thing else. But the vile
Dorcas went away as soon as she saw the wretch throw his arms about me!--
Bless me, my dear, I had only my slippers and an under-petticoat on. I
was frighted out of my bed, by her cries of fire; and that I should be
burnt to ashes in a moment--and she to go away, and never to return, nor
any body else! And yet I heard women's voices in the next room; indeed
I did--an evident contrivance of them all:--God be praised, I am out of
their house!
My terror is not yet over: I can hardly think myself safe: every well-
dressed man I see from my windows, whether on horseback or on foot, I
think to be him.
I know you will expedite an answer. A man and horse will be procured me
to-morrow early, to carry this. To be sure, you cannot return an answer
by the same man, because you must see Mrs. Townsend first: nevertheless,
I shall wait with impatience till you can; having no friend but you to
apply to; and being such a stranger to this part of the world, that I
know not which way to turn myself; whither to go; nor what to do--What a
dreadful hand have I made of it!
Mrs. Moore, at whose house I am, is a widow, and of good character: and
of this one of her neighbours, of whom I bought a handkerchief, purposely
to make inquiry before I would venture, informed me.
I will not set my foot out of doors, till I have your direction: and I am
the more secure, having dropt words to the people of the house where the
coach set me down, as if I expected a chariot to meet me in my way to
Hendon; a village a little distance from this. And when I left their
house, I walked backward and forward upon the hill; at first, not knowing
what to do; and afterwards, to be certain that I was not watched before I
ventured to inquire after a lodging.
You will direct for me, my dear, by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas.
Had I not made my escape when I did, I was resolved to attempt it again
and again. He was gone to the Commons for a license, as he wrote me
word; for I refused to see him, notwithstanding the promise he extorted
from me.
How hard, how next to impossible, my dear, to avoid many lesser
deviations, when we are betrayed into a capital one!
For fear I should not get away at my first effort, I had apprized him,
that I would not set eye upon him under a week, in order to gain myself
time for it in different ways. And were I so to have been watched as to
have made it necessary, I would, after such an instance of the connivance
of the women of the house, have run out into the street, and thrown
myself into the next house I could have entered, or claim protection from
the first person I had met--Women to desert the cause of a poor creature
of their own sex, in such a situation, what must they be!--Then, such
poor guilty sort of figures did they make in the morning after he was
gone out--so earnest to get me up stairs, and to convince me, by the
scorched window-boards, and burnt curtains and vallens, that the fire was
real--that (although I seemed to believe all they would have me believe)
I was more and more resolved to get out of their house at all adventures.
When I began, I thought to write but a few lines. But, be my subject
what it will, I know not how to conclude when I write to you. It was
always so: it is not therefore owing peculiarly to that most interesting
and unhappy situation, which you will allow, however, to engross at
present the whole mind of
Your unhappy, but ever-affectionate
CLARISSA HARLOWE.