LETTER LXV
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE[SUPERSCRIBED FOR MRS. RACHEL CLARK, &c.]WEDNESDAY, JULY 5.
MY DEAR CLARISSA,
I have at last heard from you from a quarter I little expected.
From my mother!
She had for some time seen me uneasy and grieving; and justly supposed itwas about you: and this morning dropt a hint, which made me conjecturethat she must have heard something of you more than I knew. And when shefound that this added to my uneasiness, she owned she had a letter in herhands of your's, dated the 29th of June, directed for me.
You may guess, that this occasioned a little warmth, that could not bewished for by either.
[It is surprising, my dear, mighty surprising! that knowing theprohibition I lay under of corresponding with you, you could send aletter for me to our own house: since it must be fifty to one that itwould fall into my mother's hands, as you find it did.]
In short, she resented that I should disobey her: I was as much concernedthat she should open and withhold from me my letters: and at last she waspleased to compromise the matter with me by giving up the letter, andpermitting me to write to you once or twice: she to see the contents ofwhat I wrote. For, besides the value she has for you, she could not buthave greater curiosity to know the occasion of so sad a situation as yourmelancholy letter shows you to be in.
[But I shall get her to be satisfied with hearing me read what I write;putting in between hooks, thus [], what I intend not to read to her.]
Need I to remind you, Miss Clarissa Harlowe, of three letters I wrote toyou, to none of which I had any answer; except to the first, and that ofa few lines only, promising a letter at large, though you were wellenough, the day after you received my second, to go joyfully back againwith him to the vile house? But more of these by-and-by. I must hastento take notice of your letter of Wednesday last week; which you couldcontrive should fall into my mother's hands.
Let me tell you, that that letter has almost broken my heart. Good God!--What have you brought yourself to, Miss Clarissa Harlowe?--Could I havebelieved, that after you had escaped from the miscreant, (with suchmighty pains and earnestness escaped,) and after such an attempt as hehad made, you would have been prevailed upon not only to forgive him, but(without being married too) to return with him to that horrid house!--Ahouse I had given you such an account of!--Surprising!----What anintoxicating thing is this love?--I always feared, that you, even you,were not proof against its inconsistent effects.
You your best self have not escaped!--Indeed I see not how you couldexpect to escape.
What a tale have you to unfold!--You need not unfold it, my dear: I wouldhave engaged to prognosticate all that has happened, had you but told methat you would once more have put yourself in his power, after you hadtaken such pains to get out of it.
Your peace is destroyed!--I wonder not at it: since now you must reproachyourself for a credulity so ill-placed.
Your intellect is touched!--I am sure my heart bleeds for you! But,excuse me, my dear, I doubt your intellect was touched before you leftHampstead: or you would never have let him find you out there; or, whenhe did, suffer him to prevail upon you to return to the horrid brothel.
I tell you, I sent you three letters: The first of which, dated the 7thand 8th of June* (for it was written at twice) came safely to your hands,as you sent me word by a few lines dated the 9th: had it not, I shouldhave doubted my own safety; since in it I give you such an account of theabominable house, and threw such cautions in your way, in relation tothat Tomlinson, as the more surprised me that you could think of goingback to it again, after you had escaped from it, and from Lovelace.--Omy dear--but nothing now will I ever wonder at!
* See Vol. V. Letter XX.
The second, dated June 10,* was given into your own hand at Hampstead, onSunday the 11th, as you was lying upon a couch, in a strange way,according to my messenger's account of you, bloated, and flush-coloured;I don't know how.
* See Letter VII. of this volume.
The third was dated the 20th of June.* Having not heard one word fromyou since the promising billet of the 9th, I own I did not spare you init. I ventured it by the usual conveyance, by that Wilson's, having noother: so cannot be sure you received it. Indeed I rather think youmight not; because in your's, which fell into my mother's hands, you makeno mention of it: and if you had had it, I believe it would have touchedyou too much to have been passed by unnoticed.
* See Letter XXX. of this volume.
You have heard, that I have been ill, you say. I had a cold, indeed; butit was so slight a one that it confined me not an hour. But I doubt notthat strange things you have heard, and been told, to induce you to takethe step you took. And, till you did take that step (the going back withthis villain, I mean,) I knew not a more pitiable case than your's: sinceevery body must have excused you before, who knew how you were used athome, and was acquainted with your prudence and vigilance. But, alas! mydear, we see that the wisest people are not to be depended upon, whenlove, like an ignis fatuus, holds up its misleading lights before theireyes.
My mother tells me, she sent you an answer, desiring you not to write tome, because it would grieve me. To be sure I am grieved; exceedinglygrieved; and, disappointed too, you must permit me to say. For I hadalways thought that there never was such a woman, at your years, in theworld.
But I remember once an argument you held, on occasion of a censure passedin company upon an excellent preacher, who was not a very excellentliver: preaching and practising, you said, required very differenttalents:* which, when united in the same person, made the man a saint; aswit and judgment, going together, constituted a genius.
* See Vol. II. Letter IV.
You made it out, I remember, very prettily: but you never made it out,excuse me, my dear, more convincingly, than by that part of your lateconduct, which I complain of.
My love for you, and my concern for your honour, may possibly have mademe a little of the severest. If you think so, place it to its properaccount; to that love, and to that concern: which will but do justiceto
Your afflicted and faithfulA.H.
P.S. My mother would not be satisfied without reading my letter herself; and that before I had fixed all the proposed hooks. She knows, by this means, and has excused, our former correspondence.
She indeed suspected it before: and so she very well might; knowing my love of you.
She has so much real concern for your misfortunes, that, thinking it will be a consolation to you, and that it will oblige me, she consents that you shall write to me the particulars at large of your say story. But it is on condition that I show her all that has passed between us, relating to yourself and the vilest of men. I have the more cheerfully complied, as the communication cannot be to your disadvantage.
You may therefore write freely, and direct to our own house.
My mother promises to show me the copy of her letter to you, and your reply to it; which latter she has but just told me of. She already apologizes for the severity of her's: and thinks the sight of your reply will affect me too much. But, having her promise, I will not dispense with it.
I doubt her's is severe enough. So I fear you will think mine: but you have taught me never to spare the fault for the friend's sake; and that a great error ought rather to be the more inexcusable in the person we value, than in one we are indifferent to; because it is a reflection upon our choice of that person, and tends to a breach of the love of mind, and to expose us to the world for our partiality. To the love of mind, I repeat; since it is impossible but the errors of the dearest friend must weaken our inward opinion of that friend; and thereby lay a foundation for future distance, and perhaps disgust.
God grant that you may be able to clear your conduct after you had escaped from Hampstead; as all before that time was noble, generous, and prudent; the man a
devil and you a saint!----Yet I hope you can; and therefore expect it from you.
I send by a particular hand. He will call for your answer at your own appointment.
I am afraid this horrid wretch will trace out by the post-offices where you are, if not careful.
To have money, and will, and head, to be a villain, is too much for the rest of the world, when they meet in one man.