MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY, MAY 19.
I would not, if I could help it, be so continually brooding over the dark
and gloomy face of my condition [all nature, you know, my dear, and every
thing in it, has a bright and a gloomy side] as to be thought unable to
enjoy a more hopeful prospect. And this, not only for my own sake, but
for yours, who take such generous concern in all that befalls me.
Let me tell you then, my dear, that I have known four-and-twenty hours
together not unhappy ones, my situation considered.
[She then gives the particulars of the conversation which she had
overheard between Mr. Lovelace, Mrs. Sinclair, and Miss Martin; but
accounts more minutely than he had done for the opportunity she had of
overhearing it, unknown to them.
She gives the reasons she has to be pleased with what she heard from
each: but is shocked at the measure he is resolved to take, if he
misses her but for one day. Yet is pleased that he proposes to avoid
aggressive violence, if her brother and he meet in town.]
Even Dorcas, says she, appears less exceptionable to me than before; and
I cannot but pity her for her neglected education, as it is matter of so
much regret to herself: else, there would not be much in it; as the low
and illiterate are the most useful people in the common-wealth (since
such constitute the labouring part of the public); and as a lettered
education but too generally sets people above those servile offices by
which the businesses of the world is carried on. Nor have I any doubt
but there are, take the world through, twenty happy people among the
unlettered, to one among those who have had a school-education.
This, however, concludes not against learning or letters; since one would
wish to lift to some little distinction, and more genteel usefulness,
those who have capacity, and whose parentage one respects, or whose
services one would wish to reward.
Were my mind quite at ease, I could enlarge, perhaps not unusefully, upon
this subject; for I have considered it with as much attention as my
years, and little experience and observation, will permit.
But the extreme illiterateness and indocility of this maid are
surprising, considering that she wants not inquisitiveness, appears
willing to learn, and, in other respects, has quick parts. This confirms
to me what I have heard remarked, That there is a docible season, a
learning-time, as I may say, for every person, in which the mind may be
led, step by step, from the lower to the higher, (year by year,) to
improvement. How industriously ought these seasons, as they offer, to be
taken hold of by tutors, parents, and other friends, to whom the
cultivation of the genius of children and youth is committed; since, once
elapsed, and no foundation laid, they hardly ever return!--And yet it
must be confessed, that there are some geniuses, which, like some fruits,
ripen not till late. And industry and perseverance will do prodigious
things--but for a learner to have those first rudiments to master at
twenty years of age, suppose, which others are taught, and they
themselves might have attained, at ten, what an uphill labour!
These kind of observations you have always wished me to intersperse, as
they arise to my thoughts. But it is a sign that my prospects are a
little mended, or I should not, among so many more interesting ones that
my mind has been of late filled with, have had heart's ease enough to
make them.
Let me give you my reflections on my more hopeful prospects.
I am now, in the first place, better able to account for the delays about
the house than I was before--Poor Mrs. Fretchville!--Though I know her
not, I pity her!--Next, it looks well, that he had apprized the women
(before this conversation with them, of his intention to stay in this
house, after I was removed to the other. By the tone of his voice he
seemed concerned for the appearance of this new delay would have with me.
So handsomely did Miss Martin express herself of me, that I am sorry,
methinks, that I judged so hardly of her, when I first came hither--free
people may go a great way, but not all the way: and as such are generally
unguarded, precipitate, and thoughtless, the same quickness,
changeableness, and suddenness of spirit, as I may call it, may intervene
(if the heart be not corrupted) to recover them to thought and duty.
His reason for declining to go in person to bring up the ladies of his
family, while my brother and Singleton continue their machinations,
carries no bad face with it; and one may the rather allow for their
expectations, that so proud a spirit as his should attend them for this
purpose, as he speaks of them sometimes as persons of punctilio.
Other reasons I will mention for my being easier in my mind than I was
before I overheard this conversation.
Such as, the advice he had received in relation to Singleton's mate;
which agrees but too well with what you, my dear, wrote to me in your's
of May the 10th.*
* See Letter XXIII. of this volume.
His not intending to acquaint me with it.
His cautions to the servants about the sailor, if he should come and make
inquiries about us.
His resolution to avoid violence, were he to fall in either with my
brother, or this Singleton; and the easy method he has chalked out, in
this case, to prevent mischief; since I need only not to deny my being
his. But yet I should be driven into such a tacit acknowledgement to any
new persons, till I am so, although I have been led (so much against my
liking) to give countenance to the belief of the persons below that we
are married.
I think myself obliged, from what passed between Mr. Lovelace and me on
Wednesday, and from what I overheard him say, to consent to go with him
to the play; and the rather, as he had the discretion to propose one of
the nieces to accompany me.
I cannot but acknowledge that I am pleased to find that he has actually
written to Lord M.
I have promised to give Mr. Lovelace an answer to his proposals as soon
as I have heard from you, my dear, on the subject.
I hope that in my next letter I shall have reason to confirm these
favourable appearances. Favourable I must think them in the wreck I have
suffered.
I hope, that in the trial which you hint may happen between me and
myself, (as you* express it,) if he should so behave as to oblige me to
leave him, I shall be able to act in such a manner as to bring no
discredit upon myself in your eye; and that is all now that I have to
wish for. But, if I value him so much as you are pleased to suppose I
do, the trial, which you imagine will be so difficult to me, will not, I
conceive, be upon getting from him, when the means to affect my escape
are lent me; but how I shall behave when got from him; and if, like the
Israelites of old, I shall be so weak as to wish to return to my Egyptian
bondage.
* See Letter XXXIV. of this volume.
I think it will not be amiss, notwithstanding the present favourable
appearances, that you should perfect the scheme (whatever it be) which
you tell me* you have thought of, in order to procure for me an asylum,
in case of necessity. Mr. Lovelace is certainly a deep and dangerous
man; and it is therefore but prudence to be watchful, and to be provided
against the worst. Lord bless me, my dear, how I am reduced!--Could I
ever have thought to be in such a situation, as to be obliged to stay
with a man, of whose honour by me I could have but the shadow of a doubt!
--But I will look forward, and hope the best.
* Ibid.
I am certain that your letters are safe. Be perfectly easy, therefore,
on that head.
Mr. Lovelace will never be out of my company by his good will, otherwise
I have no doubt that I am mistress of my goings-out and comings-in; and
did I think it needful, and were I not afraid of my brother and Captain
Singleton, I would oftener put it to trial.