LETTER LXI
MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
TUES. SEPT. 9 IN THE MORN. AT MR. SMITH"S.
When I read yours of this morning, I could not help pitying you for the account you give of the dreadful anxiety and suspense you labour under.
I wish from my heart all were to end as you are so willing to hope: but it will not be; and your suspense, if the worst part of your torment, as you say it is, will soon be over; but, alas! in a way you wish not.
I attended the lady just now. She is extremely ill: yet is she aiming at an answer to her Norton"s letter, which she began yesterday in her own chamber, and has written a good deal: but in a hand not like her own fine one, as Mrs. Lovick tells me, but larger, and the lines crooked.
I have accepted of the offer of a room adjoining to the widow Lovick"s, till I see how matters go; but unknown to the lady; and I shall go home every night, for a few hours. I would not lose a sentence that I could gain from lips so instructive, nor the opportunity of receiving any command from her, for an estate.
In this my new apartment I now write, and shall continue to write, as occasions offer, that I may be the more circ.u.mstantial: but I depend upon the return of my letters, or copies of them, on demand, that I may have together all that relates to this affecting story; which I shall re-peruse with melancholy pleasure to the end of my life.
I think I will send thee Brand"s letter to Mr. John Harlowe, recanting his base surmises. It is a matchless piece of pedantry; and may perhaps a little divert thy deep chagrin: some time hence at least it may, if not now.
What wretched creatures are there in the world! What strangely mixed creatures!--So sensible and so silly at the same time! What a various, what a foolish creature is man!--
THREE O"CLOCK.
The lady has just finished her letter, and has entertained Mrs. Lovick, Mrs. Smith, and me, with a n.o.ble discourse on the vanity and brevity of life, to which I cannot do justice in the repet.i.tion: and indeed I am so grieved for her, that, ill as she is, my intellects are not half so clear as her"s.
A few things which made the strongest impression upon me, as well from the sentiments themselves as from her manner of uttering them, I remember. She introduced them thus:
I am thinking, said she, what a gradual and happy death G.o.d Almighty (blessed be his name) affords me! Who would have thought, that, suffering what I have suffered, and abandoned as I have been, with such a tender education as I have had, I should be so long a dying!--But see now by little and little it had come to this. I was first take off from the power of walking; then I took a coach--a coach grew too violent an exercise: then I took up a chair--the prison was a large DEATH-STRIDE upon me--I should have suffered longer else!--Next, I was unable to go to church; then to go up or down stairs; now hardly can move from one room to another: and a less room will soon hold me.--My eyes begin to fail me, so that at times I cannot see to read distinctly; and now I can hardly write, or hold a pen.--Next, I presume, I shall know n.o.body, nor be able to thank any of you; I therefore now once more thank you, Mrs. Lovick, and you, Mrs. Smith, and you, Mr. Belford, while I can thank you, for all your kindness to me. And thus by little and little, in such a gradual sensible death as I am blessed with, G.o.d dies away in us, as I may say, all human satisfaction, in order to subdue his poor creatures to himself.
Thou mayest guess how affected we all were at this moving account of her progressive weakness. We heard it with wet eyes; for what with the women"s example, and what with her moving eloquence, I could no more help it than they. But we were silent nevertheless; and she went on applying herself to me.
O Mr. Belford! This is a poor transitory life in the best enjoyments.
We flutter about here and there, with all our vanities about us, like painted b.u.t.terflies, for a gay, but a very short season, till at last we lay ourselves down in a quiescent state, and turn into vile worms: And who knows in what form, or to what condition we shall rise again?
I wish you would permit me, a young creature, just turned of nineteen years of age, blooming and healthy as I was a few months ago, now nipt by the cold hand of death, to influence you, in these my last hours, to a life of regularity and repentance for any past evils you may have been guilty of. For, believe me, Sir, that now, in this last stage, very few things will bear the test, or be pa.s.sed as laudable, if pardonable, at our own bar, much less at a more tremendous one, in all we have done, or delighted in, even in a life not very offensive neither, as we may think!
--Ought we not then to study in our full day, before the dark hours approach, so to live, as may afford reflections that will soften the agony of the last moments when they come, and let in upon the departing soul a ray of Divine mercy to illuminate its pa.s.sage into an awful eternity?
She was ready to faint, and choosing to lie down, I withdrew; I need not say with a melancholy heart: and when I got to my new-taken apartment, my heart was still more affected by the sight of the solemn letter the admirable lady had so lately finished. It was communicated to me by Mrs.
Lovick; who had it to copy for me; but it was not to be delivered to me till after her departure. However, I trespa.s.sed so far, as to prevail upon the widow to let me take a copy of it; which I did directly in character.
I send it enclosed. If thou canst read it, and thy heart not bleed at thy eyes, thy remorse can hardly be so deep as thou hast inclined me to think it is.
LETTER LXII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON [IN ANSWER TO LETTER LVI.*]
* Begun on Monday Sept. 4, and by piecemeal finished on Tuesday; but not sent till the Thursday following.
MY DEAREST MRS. NORTON,
I am afraid I shall not be able to write all that is upon my mind to say to you upon the subject of your last. Yet I will try.
As to my friends, and as to the sad breakfasting, I cannot help being afflicted for them. What, alas! has not my mother, in particular, suffered by my rashness!--Yet to allow so much for a son!--so little for a daughter!--But all now will soon be over, as to me. I hope they will bury all their resentments in my grave.
As to your advice, in relation to Mr. Belford, let me only say, that the unhappy reprobation I have met with, and my short time, must be my apology now.--I wish I could have written to my mother and my uncles as you advise. And yet, favours come so slowly from them.
The granting of one request only now remains as a desirable one from them. Which nevertheless, when granted, I shall not be sensible of. It is that they will be pleased to permit my remains to be laid with those of my ancestors--placed at the feet of my dear grandfather, as I have mentioned in my will. This, however, as they please. For, after all, this vile body ought not so much to engage my cares. It is a weakness-- but let it be called a natural weakness, and I shall be excused; especially when a reverential grat.i.tude shall be known to be the foundation of it. You know, my dear woman, how my grandfather loved me.
And you know how much I honoured him, and that from my very infancy to the hour of his death. How often since have I wished, that he had not loved me so well!
I wish not now, at the writing of this, to see even my cousin Morden.
O, my blessed woman! My dear maternal friend! I am entering upon a better tour than to France or Italy either!--or even than to settle at my once-beloved Dairy-house!--All these prospects and pleasures, which used to be so agreeable to me in health, how poor seem they to me now!--
Indeed, indeed, my dear Mamma Norton, I shall be happy! I know I shall!
--I have charming forebodings of happiness already!--Tell all my dear friends, for their comfort, that I shall!--Who would not bear the punishments I have borne, to have the prospects and a.s.surances I rejoice in!--a.s.surances I might not have had, were my own wishes to have been granted to me!
Neither do I want to see even you, my dear Mrs. Norton. Nevertheless I must, in justice to my own grat.i.tude, declare, that there was a time, could you have been permitted to come, without incurring displeasure from those whose esteem it is necessary for you to cultivate and preserve, that your presence and comfortings would have been balm to my wounded mind. But were you now, even by consent, and with reconciliatory tidings, to come, it would but add to your grief; and the sight of one I so dearly love, so happily fraught with good news, might but draw me back to wishes I have had great struggles to get above. And let me tell you for your comfort, that I have not left undone any thing that ought to be done, either respecting mind or person; no, not to the minutest preparation: so that nothing is left for you to do for me. Every one has her direction as to the last offices.--And my desk, that I now write upon --O my dearest Mrs. Norton, all is provided!--All is ready! And all will be as decent as it should be!
And pray let my Miss Howe know, that by the time you will receive this, and she your signification of the contents of it, will, in all probability, be too late for her to do me the inestimable favour, as I should once have thought it, to see me. G.o.d will have no rivals in the hearts of those he sanctifies. By various methods he deadens all other sensations, or rather absorbs them all in the love of him.
I shall nevertheless love you, my Mamma Norton, and my Miss Howe, whose love to me has pa.s.sed the love of woman, to my latest hour!--But yet, I am now above the quick sense of those pleasures which once delighted me, and once more I say, that I do not wish to see objects so dear to me, which might bring me back again into sense, and rival my supreme love.
Twice have I been forced to leave off. I wished, that my last writing might be to you, or to Miss Howe, if it might not be to my dearest Ma----
Mamma, I would have wrote--is the word distinct?--My eyes are so misty!-- If, when I apply to you, I break off in half-words, do you supply them-- the kindest are your due.--Be sure take the kindest, to fill up chasms with, if any chasms there be--
Another breaking off!--But the new day seems to rise upon me with healing in its wings. I have gotten, I think, a recruit of strength: spirits, I bless G.o.d, I have not of late wanted.
Let my dearest Miss Howe purchase her wedding-garments--and may all temporal blessings attend the charming preparation!--Blessings will, I make no question, notwithstanding the little cloudiness that Mr. Hickman encounters with now and then, which are but prognostications of a future golden day to him: for her heart is good, and her head not wrong.--But great merit is coy, and that coyness had not always its foundation in pride: but if it should seem to be pride, take off the skin-deep covering, and, in her, it is n.o.ble diffidence, and a love that wants but to be a.s.sured!
Tell Mr. Hickman I write this, and write it, as I believe, with my last pen; and bid him bear a little at first, and forbear; and all the future will be crowning grat.i.tude, and rewarding love: for Miss Howe had great sense, fine judgment, and exalted generosity; and can such a one be ungrateful or easy under those obligations which his a.s.siduity and obligingness (when he shall be so happy as to call her his) will lay her under to him?
As for me, never bride was so ready as I am. My wedding garments are bought---and though not fine or gawdy to the sight, though not adorned with jewels, and set off with gold and silver, (for I have no beholders"
eyes to wish to glitter in,) yet will they be the easiest, the happiest suit, that ever bridal maiden wore--for they are such as carry with them a security against all those anxieties, pains, and perturbations, which sometimes succeed to the most promising outsettings.
And now, my dear Mrs. Norton, do I wish for no other.