I cannot excuse myself from giving your Ladyship this one trouble more;
to thank you, as I most heartily do, for your kind letter.
I must own to you, Madam, that the honour of being related to ladies as
eminent for their virtue as for their descent, was at first no small
inducement with me to lend an ear to Mr. Lovelace’s address. And the
rather, as I was determined, had it come to effect, to do every thing
in my power to deserve your favourable opinion.
I had another motive, which I knew would of itself give me merit with
your whole family; a presumptuous one, (a punishably presumptuous one,
as it has proved,) in the hope that I might be an humble mean in the
hand of Providence to reclaim a man, who had, as I thought, good sense
enough to acknowledge the intended obligation, whether the generous
hope were to succeed or not.
But I have been most egregiously mistaken in Mr. Lovelace; the only
man, I persuade myself, pretending to be a gentleman, in whom I could
have been so much mistaken: for while I was endeavouring to save a
drowning wretch, I have been, not accidentally, but premeditatedly, and
of set purpose, drawn in after him. And he has had the glory to add to
the list of those he has ruined, a name, that, I will be bold to say,
would not have disparaged his own. And this, Madam, by means that would
shock humanity to be made acquainted with.
My whole end is served by your Ladyship’s answer to the questions I
took the liberty to put to you in writing. Nor have I a wish to make
the unhappy man more odious to you than is necessary to excuse myself
for absolutely declining your offered mediation.
When your Ladyship shall be informed of the following particulars:
That after he had compulsorily, as I may say, tricked me into the act
of going off with him, he could carry me to one of the vilest houses,
as it proved, in London:
That he could be guilty of a wicked attempt, in resentment of which, I
found means to escape from him to Hampstead:
That, after he had found me out there (I know not how) he could procure
two women, dressed out richly, to personate your Ladyship and Miss
Montague; who, under pretence of engaging me to make a visit in town to
your cousin Leeson, (promising to return with me that evening to
Hampstead,) betrayed me back again to the vile house: where, again made
a prisoner, I was first robbed of my senses; and then of my honour. Why
should I seek to conceal that disgrace from others which I cannot hide
from myself?
When your Ladyship shall know, that, in the shocking progress to this
ruin, wilful falsehoods, repeated forgeries, (particularly of one
letter from your Ladyship, another from Miss Montague, and a third from
Lord M.) and numberless perjuries, were not the least of his crimes:
you will judge, that I can have no principles that will make me worthy
of an alliance with ladies of your’s and your noble sister’s character,
if I could not from my soul declare, that such an alliance can never
now take place.
I will not offer to clear myself entirely of blame: but, as to him, I
have no fault to accuse myself of: my crime was, the corresponding with
him at first, when prohibited so to do by those who had a right to my
obedience; made still more inexcusable, by giving him a clandestine
meeting, which put me into the power of his arts. And for this I am
content to be punished: thankful, that at last I have escaped from him;
and have it in my power to reject so wicked a man for my husband: and
glad, if I may be a warning, since I cannot be an example: which once
(very vain, and very conceited, as I was) I proposed to myself to be.
All the ill I wish him is, that he may reform; and that I may be the
last victim to his baseness. Perhaps this desirable wish may be
obtained, when he shall see how his wickedness, his unmerited
wickedness! to a poor creature, made friendless by his cruel arts, will
end.
I conclude with my humble thanks to your Ladyship for your favourable
opinion of me; and with the assurance that I will be, while life is
lent me,
Your Ladyship’s grateful and obliged servant, CLARISSA HARLOWE.