MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON
THURSDAY, AUG. 27.
What Mr. Brand, or any body, can have written or said to my prejudice, I
cannot imagine; and yet some evil reports have gone out against me; as I
find by some hints in a very severe letter written to me by my uncle
Antony. Such a letter as I believe was never written to any poor
creature, who, by ill health of body, as well as of mind, was before
tottering on the brink of the grave. But my friends may possibly be
better justified than the reporters--For who knows what they may have
heard?
You give me a kind caution, which seems to imply more than you express,
when you advise me against countenancing visiters that may discredit me.
You have spoken quite out. Surely, I have had afflictions enow to
strengthen my mind, and to enable it to bear the worst that can now
happen. But I will not puzzle myself by conjectural evils; as I might
perhaps do, if I had not enow that were certain. I shall hear all, when
it is thought proper that I should. Mean time, let me say, for your
satisfaction, that I know not that I have any thing criminal or
disreputable to answer for either in word or deed, since the fatal 10th
of April last.
You desire an account of what passes between me and my friends; and also
particulars or brief heads of my sad story, in order to serve me as
occasion shall offer. My dear good Mrs. Norton, you shall have a whole
packet of papers, which I have sent to my Miss Howe, when she returns
them; and you shall have likewise another packet, (and that with this
letter,) which I cannot at present think of sending to that dear friend
for the sake of my own relations; whom, without seeing that packet, she
is but too ready to censure heavily. From these you will be able to
collect a great deal of my story. But for what is previous to these
papers, and which more particularly relates to what I have suffered from
Mr. Lovelace, you must have patience; for at present I have neither head
nor heart for such subjects. The papers I send you with this will be
those mentioned in the margin.* You must restore them to me as soon as
perused; and upon your honour make no use of them, or of any intelligence
you have from me, but by my previous consent.
* 1. A copy of mine to my sister, begging
off my father's malediction . . . . . . dated July 21.
2. My sister's answer . . . . . . . . . . . dated July 27.
3. Copy of my second letter to my sister. . dated July 29.
4. My sister's answer . . . . . . . . . . . dated Aug. 3.
5. Copy of my Letter to my mother . . . . . dated Aug. 5.
6. My uncle Harlowe's letter . . . . . . . dated Aug. 7.
7. Copy of my answer to it . . . . . . . . dated the 1oth.
8. Letter from my uncle Antony . . . . . . dated the 12th.
9. And lastly, the copy of my answer to it. dated the 13th.
These communications you must not, my good Mrs. Norton, look upon as
appeals against my relations. On the contrary, I am heartily sorry that
they have incurred the displeasure of so excellent a divine as Dr. Lewen.
But you desire to have every thing before you: and I think you ought; for
who knows, as you say, but you may be applied to at last to administer
comfort from their conceding hearts, to one that wants it; and who
sometimes, judging by what she knows of her own heart, thinks herself
entitled to it?
I know that I have a most indulgent and sweet-tempered mother; but,
having to deal with violent spirits, she has too often forfeited that
peace of mind which she so much prefers, by her over concern to preserve
it.
I am sure she would not have turned me over for an answer to a letter
written with so contrite and fervent a spirit, as was mine to her, to a
masculine spirit, had she been left to herself.
But, my dear Mrs. Norton, might not, think you, the revered lady have
favoured me with one private line?----If not, might not you have written
by her order, or connivance, one softening, one motherly line, when she
saw her poor girl, whom once she dearly loved, borne so hard upon?
O no, she might not!--because her heart, to be sure, is in their
measures! and if she think them right, perhaps they must be right!--at
least, knowing only what they know, they must!--and yet they might know
all, if they would!--and possibly, in their own good time, they think to
make proper inquiry.--My application was made to them but lately.--Yet
how deeply will it afflict them, if their time should be out of time!
When you have before you the letters I have sent to Miss Howe, you will
see that Lord M. and the Ladies of his family, jealous as they are of the
honour of their house, (to express myself in their language,) think
better of me than my own relations do. You will see an instance of their
generosity to me, which at the time extremely affected me, and indeed
still affects me. Unhappy man! gay, inconsiderate, and cruel! what has
been his gain by making unhappy a creature who hoped to make him happy!
and who was determined to deserve the love of all to whom he is related!
--Poor man!--but you will mistake a compassionate and placable nature for
love!--he took care, great care, that I should rein-in betimes any
passion that I might have had for him, had he known how to be but
commonly grateful or generous!--But the Almighty knows what is best for
his poor creatures.
Some of the letters in the same packet will also let you into the
knowledge of a strange step which I have taken, (strange you will think
it); and, at the same time, give you my reasons for taking it.*
* She means that of making Mr. Belford her executor.
It must be expected, that situations uncommonly difficult will make
necessary some extraordinary steps, which, but for those situations,
would be hardly excusable. It will be very happy indeed, and somewhat
wonderful, if all the measures I have been driven to take should be
right. A pure intention, void of all undutiful resentment, is what must
be my consolation, whatever others may think of those measures, when they
come to know them: which, however, will hardly be till it is out of my
power to justify them, or to answer for myself.
I am glad to hear of my cousin Morden's safe arrival. I should wish to
see him methinks: but I am afraid that he will sail with the stream; as
it must be expected, that he will hear what they have to say first.--But
what I most fear is, that he will take upon himself to avenge me. Rather
than he should do so, I would have him look upon me as a creature utterly
unworthy of his concern; at least of his vindictive concern.
How soothing to the wounded heart of your Clarissa, how balmy are the
assurances of your continued love and favour;--love me, my dear mamma
Norton, continue to love me, to the end!--I now think that I may, without
presumption, promise to deserve your love to the end. And, when I am
gone, cherish my memory in your worthy heart; for in so doing you will
cherish the memory of one who loves and honours you more than she can
express.
But when I am no more, I charge you, as soon as you can, the smarting
pangs of grief that will attend a recent loss; and let all be early
turned into that sweetly melancholy regard to MEMORY, which, engaging us
to forget all faults, and to remember nothing but what was thought
amiable, gives more pleasure than pain to survivors--especially if they
can comfort themselves with the humble hope, that the Divine mercy has
taken the dear departed to itself.
And what is the space of time to look backward upon, between an early
departure and the longest survivance!--and what the consolation attending
the sweet hope of meeting again, never more to be separated, never more
to be pained, grieved, or aspersed;--but mutually blessing, and being
blessed, to all eternity!
In the contemplation of this happy state, in which I hope, in God's good
time, to rejoice with you, my beloved Mrs. Norton, and also with my dear
relations, all reconciled to, and blessing the child against whom they
are now so much incensed, I conclude myself
Your ever dutiful and affectionate
CLARISSA HARLOWE.