I sent up to let her know, that I came with a commission to set her at
liberty. I was afraid of sending up the name of a man known to be your
friend. She absolutely refused to see any man, however, for that day, or
to answer further to any thing said from me.
Having therefore informed myself of all that the officer, and his wife,
and servant, could acquaint me with, as well in relation to the horrid
arrest, as to her behaviour, and the women's to her; and her ill state of
health; I went back to Sinclair's, as I will still call her, and heard
the three women's story. From all which I am enabled to give you the
following shocking particulars: which may serve till I can see the
unhappy lady herself to-morrow, if then I gain admittance to her. You
will find that I have been very minute in my inquiries.
Your villain it was that set the poor lady, and had the impudence to
appear, and abet the sheriff's officers in the cursed transaction. He
thought, no doubt, that he was doing the most acceptable service to his
blessed master. They had got a chair; the head ready up, as soon as
service was over. And as she came out of the church, at the door
fronting Bedford-street, the officers, stepping up to her, whispered that
they had an action against her.
She was terrified, trembled, and turned pale.
Action, said she! What is that!----I have committed no bad action!----
Lord bless me! men, what mean you?
That you are our prisoner, Madam.
Prisoner, Sirs!--What--How--Why--What have I done?
You must go with us. Be pleased, Madam, to step into this chair.
With you!--With men! Must go with men!--I am not used to go with strange
men!----Indeed you must excuse me!
We can't excuse you. We are sheriff's officers, We have a writ against
you. You must go with us, and you shall know at whose suit.
Suit! said the charming innocent; I don't know what you mean. Pray, men,
don't lay hands upon me; (they offering to put her into the chair.) I am
not used to be thus treated--I have done nothing to deserve it.
She then spied thy villain--O thou wretch, said she, where is thy vile
master?--Am I again to be his prisoner? Help, good people!
A crowd had begun to gather.
My master is in the country, Madam, many miles off. If you please to go
with these men, they will treat you civilly.
The people were most of them struck with compassion. A fine young
creature!--A thousand pities cried some. While some few threw out vile
and shocking reflections! But a gentleman interposed, and demanded to
see the fellow's authority.
They showed it. Is your name Clarissa Harlowe, Madam? said he.
Yes, yes, indeed, ready to sink, my name was Clarissa Harlowe:--but it is
now Wretchedness!----Lord be merciful to me, what is to come next?
You must go with these men, Madam, said the gentleman: they have
authority for what they do.
He pitied her, and retired.
Indeed you must, said one chairman.
Indeed you must, said the other.
Can nobody, joined in another gentleman, be applied to, who will see that
so fine a creature is not ill used?
Thy villain answered, orders were given particularly for that. She had
rich relations. She need but ask and have. She would only be carried to
the officer's house till matters could be made up. The people she had
lodged with loved her:--but she had left her lodgings privately.
Oh! had she those tricks already? cried one or two.
She heard not this--but said--Well, if I must go, I must--I cannot resist
--but I will not be carried to the woman's! I will rather die at your
feet, than be carried to the woman's.
You won't be carried there, Madam, cried thy fellow.
Only to my house, Madam, said one of the officers.
Where is that?
In High-Holborn, Madam.
I know not where High-Holborn is: but any where, except to the woman's.
----But am I to go with men only?
Looking about her, and seeing the three passages, to wit, that leading to
Henrietta-street, that to King-street, and the fore-right one, to
Bedford-street, crowded, she started--Any where--any where, said she, but
to the woman's! And stepping into the chair, threw herself on the seat,
in the utmost distress and confusion--Carry me, carry me out of sight--
cover me--cover me up--for ever--were her words.
Thy villain drew the curtain: she had not power: and they went away with
her through a vast crowd of people.
Here I must rest. I can write no more at present.
Only, Lovelace, remember, all this was to a Clarissa.
***
The unhappy lady fainted away when she was taken out of the chair at the
officer's house.
Several people followed the chair to the very house, which is in a
wretched court. Sally was there; and satisfied some of the inquirers,
that the young gentlewoman would be exceedingly well used: and they soon
dispersed.
Dorcas was also there; but came not in her sight. Sally, as a favour,
offered to carry her to her former lodgings: but she declared they should
carry her thither a corpse, if they did.
Very gentle usage the women boast of: so would a vulture, could it speak,
with the entrails of its prey upon its rapacious talons. Of this you'll
judge from what I have to recite.
She asked, what was meant by this usage of her? People told me, said
she, that I must go with the men: that they had authority to take me: so
I submitted. But now, what is to be the end of this disgraceful
violence?
The end, said the vile Sally Martin, is, for honest people to come at
their own.
Bless me! have I taken away any thing that belongs to those who have
obtained the power over me?--I have left very valuable things behind me;
but have taken away that is not my own.
And who do you think, Miss Harlowe; for I understand, said the cursed
creature, you are not married; who do you think is to pay for your board
and your lodgings! such handsome lodgings! for so long a time as you were
at Mrs. Sinclair's?
Lord have mercy upon me!--Miss Martin, (I think you are Miss Martin!)--
And is this the cause of such a disgraceful insult upon me in the open
streets?
And cause enough, Miss Harlowe! (fond of gratifying her jealous revenge,
by calling her Miss,)--One hundred and fifty guineas, or pounds, is no
small sum to lose--and by a young creature who would have bilked her
lodgings.
You amaze me, Miss Martin!--What language do you talk in?--Bilk my
lodgings?--What is that?
She stood astonished and silent for a few moments.
But recovering herself, and turning from her to the window, she wrung her
hands [the cursed Sally showed me how!] and lifting them up--Now,
Lovelace: now indeed do I think I ought to forgive thee!--But who shall
forgive Clarissa Harlowe!----O my sister!--O my brother!--Tender mercies
were your cruelties to this!
After a pause, her handkerchief drying up her falling tears, she turned
to Sally: Now, have I nothing to do but acquiesce--only let me say, that
if this aunt of your's, this Mrs. Sinclair, or this man, this Mr.
Lovelace, come near me; or if I am carried to the horrid house; (for
that, I suppose, is the design of this new outrage;) God be merciful to
the poor Clarissa Harlowe!----Look to the consequence!----Look, I charge
you, to the consequence!
The vile wretch told her, it was not designed to carry her any where
against her will: but, if it were, they should take care not to be
frighted again by a penknife.
She cast up her eyes to Heaven, and was silent--and went to the farthest
corner of the room, and, sitting down, threw her handkerchief over her
face.
Sally asked her several questions; but not answering her, she told her,
she would wait upon her by-and-by, when she had found her speech.
She ordered the people to press her to eat and drink. She must be
fasting--nothing but her prayers and tears, poor thing!--were the
merciless devil's words, as she owned to me.--Dost think I did not curse
her?
She went away; and, after her own dinner, returned.
The unhappy lady, by this devil's account of her, then seemed either
mortified into meekness, or to have made a resolution not to be provoked
by the insults of this cursed creature.
Sally inquired, in her presence, whether she had eat or drank any thing;
and being told by the woman, that she could not prevail upon her to taste
a morsel, or drink a drop, she said, this is wrong, Miss Harlowe! Very
wrong!--Your religion, I think, should teach you, that starving yourself
is self-murder.
She answered not.
The wretch owned she was resolved to make her speak.
She asked if Mabell should attend her, till it were seen what her friends
would do for her in discharge of the debt? Mabell, said she, had not yet
earned the clothes you were so good as to give her.
Am I not worthy an answer, Miss Harlowe?
I would answer you (said the sweet sufferer, without any emotion) if I
knew how.
I have ordered pen, ink, and paper, to be brought you, Miss Harlowe.
There they are. I know you love writing. You may write to whom you
please. Your friend, Miss Howe, will expect to hear from you.