When these lines reach your hands, your late unhappy niece will have
known the end of all her troubles; and, as she humbly hopes, will be
rejoicing in the mercies of a gracious God, who has declared, that he
will forgive the truly penitent of heart.
I write, therefore, my dear uncles, and to you both in one letter (since
your fraternal love has made you both but as one person) to give you
comfort, and not distress; for, however sharp my afflictions have been,
they have been but of short duration; and I am betimes (happily as I
hope) arrived at the end of a painful journey.
At the same time I write to thank you both for all your kind indulgence
to me, and to beg your forgiveness of my last, my only great fault to
you and to my family.
The ways of Providence are unsearchable. Various are the means made use
of by it, to bring poor sinners to a sense of their duty. Some are drawn
by love, others are driven by terrors, to their divine refuge. I had for
eighteen years out of nineteen, rejoiced in the favour and affection of
every one. No trouble came near to my heart, I seemed to be one of those
designed to be drawn by the silken cords of love.--But, perhaps, I was
too apt to value myself upon the love and favour of every one: the merit
of the good I delighted to do, and of the inclinations which were given
me, and which I could not help having, I was, perhaps, too ready to
attribute to myself; and now, being led to account for the cause of my
temporary calamities, find I had a secret pride to be punished for, which
I had not fathomed: and it was necessary, perhaps, that some sore and
terrible misfortunes should befall me, in order to mortify that my pride,
and that my vanity.
Temptations were accordingly sent. I shrunk in the day of trial. My
discretion, which had been so cried up, was found wanting when it came to
be weighed in an equal balance. I was betrayed, fell, and became the
by-word of my companions, and a disgrace to my family, which had prided
itself in me perhaps too much. But as my fault was not that of a
culpable will, when my pride was sufficiently mortified, I was not
suffered (although surrounded by dangers, and entangled in snares) to be
totally lost: but, purified by sufferings, I was fitted for the change I
have NOW, at the time you will receive this, so newly, and, as I humbly
hope, so happily experienced.
Rejoice with me, then, dear Sirs, that I have weathered so great a storm.
Nor let it be matter of concern, that I am cut off in the bloom of youth.
'There is no inquisition in the grave,' says the wise man, 'whether we
lived ten or a hundred years; and the day of death is better than the day
of our birth.'
Once more, dear Sirs, accept my grateful thanks for all your goodness to
me, from my early childhood to the day, the unhappy day, of my error!
Forgive that error!--And God give us a happy meeting in a blessed
eternity; prays
Your most dutiful and obliged kinswoman,
CLARISSA HARLOWE.
Mr. Belford gives the Lady's posthumous letters to Mrs. Hervey, Miss
Howe, and Mrs. Norton, at length likewise: but, although every
letter varies in style as well as matter from the others; yet, as
they are written on the same subject, and are pretty long, it is
thought proper to abstract them.
That to her aunt Hervey is written in the same pious and generous strain
with those preceding, seeking to give comfort rather than distress. 'The
Almighty, I hope,' says she, 'has received and blessed my penitence, and
I am happy. Could I have been more than so at the end of what is called
a happy life of twenty, or thirty, or forty years to come? And what are
twenty, or thirty, or forty years to look back upon? In half of any of
these periods, what friends might not I have mourned for? what
temptations from worldly prosperity might I not have encountered with?
And in such a case, immersed in earthly pleasures, how little likelihood,
that, in my last stage, I should have been blessed with such a
preparation and resignation as I have now been blessed with?'
She proceeds as follows: 'Thus much, Madam, of comfort to you and to
myself from this dispensation. As to my dear parents, I hope they will
console themselves that they have still many blessings left, which ought
to balance the troubles my error has given them: that, unhappy as I have
been to be the interrupter of their felicities, they never, till this my
fault, know any heavy evil: that afflictions patiently borne may be
turned into blessings: that uninterrupted happiness is not to be expected
in this life: that, after all, they have not, as I humbly presume to
hope, the probability of the everlasting perdition of their child to
deplore: and that, in short, when my story comes to be fully known, they
will have the comfort to find that my sufferings redound more to my
honour than to my disgrace.
'These considerations will, I hope, make their temporary loss of but one
child out of three (unhappily circumstances too as she was) matter of
greater consolation than affliction. And the rather, as we may hope for
a happy meeting once more, never to be separated either by time or
offences.'
She concludes this letter with an address to her cousin Dolly Hervey,
whom she calls her amiable cousin; and thankfully remembers for the part
she took in her afflictions.--'O my dear Cousin, let your worthy heart be
guarded against those delusions which have been fatal to my worldly
happiness!--That pity, which you bestowed upon me, demonstrates a
gentleness of nature, which may possibly subject you to misfortunes, if
your eye be permitted to mislead your judgment.--But a strict observance
of your filial duty, my dearest Cousin, and the precepts of so prudent a
mother as you have the happiness to have (enforced by so sad an example
in your own family as I have set) will, I make no doubt, with the Divine
assistance, be your guard and security.'
The posthumous letter to Miss Howe is extremely tender and affectionate.
She pathetically calls upon her 'to rejoice that all her Clarissa's
troubles are now at an end; that the state of temptation and trial, of
doubt and uncertainty, is now over with her; and that she has happily
escaped the snares that were laid for her soul; the rather to rejoice,
as that her misfortunes were of such a nature, that it was impossible
she could be tolerably happy in this life.'
She 'thankfully acknowledges the favours she had received from Mrs. Howe
and Mr. Hickman; and expresses her concern for the trouble she has
occasioned to the former, as well as to her; and prays that all the
earthly blessings they used to wish to each other, may singly devolve
upon her.'
She beseeches her, 'that she will not suspend the day which shall supply
to herself the friend she will have lost in her, and give to herself a
still nearer and dearer relation.'
She tells her, 'That her choice (a choice made with the approbation of
all her friends) has fallen upon a sincere, an honest, a virtuous, and,
what is more than all, a pious man; a man who, although he admires her
person, is still more in love with the graces of her mind. And as those
graces are improvable with every added year of life, which will impair
the transitory ones of person, what a firm basis, infers she, has Mr.
Hickman chosen to build his love upon!'
She prays, 'That God will bless them together; and that the remembrance
of her, and of what she has suffered, may not interrupt their mutual
happiness; she desires them to think of nothing but what she now is; and
that a time will come when they shall meet again, never to be divided.
'To the Divine protection, mean time, she commits her; and charges her,
by the love that has always subsisted between them, that she will not
mourn too heavily for her; and again calls upon her, after a gentle tear,
which she will allow her to let fall in memory of their uninterrupted
friendship, to rejoice that she is so early released; and that she is
purified by her sufferings, and is made, as she assuredly trusts, by
God's goodness, eternally happy.'
The posthumous letters to Mr. LOVELACE and Mr. MORDEN will be inserted
hereafter: as will also the substance of that written to Mrs.
Norton.