I must indeed own that I took the liberty to write to your mother, offering to enclose to her, if she gave me leave, your"s of the 24th: by which I thought she would see what was the state of your mind; what the nature of your last troubles was from the wicked arrest; what the people are where you lodge; what proposals were made you from Lord M."s family; also your sincere penitence; and how much Miss Howe"s writing to them, in the terms she wrote in, disturbed you--but, as you have taken the matter into your own hands, and forbid me, in your last, to act in this nice affair unknown to you, I am glad the letter was not required of me--and indeed it may be better that the matter lie wholly between you and them; since my affection for you is thought to proceed from partiality.
They would choose, no doubt, that you should owe to themselves, and not to my humble mediation, the favour for which you so earnestly sue, and of which I would not have your despair: for I will venture to a.s.sure you, that your mother is ready to take the first opportunity to show her maternal tenderness: and this I gather from several hints I am not at liberty to explain myself upon.
I long to be with you, now I am better, and now my son is in a fair way of recovery. But is it not hard to have it signified to me that at present it will not be taken well if I go?--I suppose, while the reconciliation, which I hope will take place, is negotiating by means of the correspondence so newly opened between you and your sister. But if you will have me come, I will rely on my good intentions, and risque every one"s displeasure.
Mr. Brand has business in town; to solicit for a benefice which it is expected the inc.u.mbent will be obliged to quit for a better preferment: and, when there, he is to inquire privately after your way of life, and of your health.
He is a very officious young man; and, but that your uncle Harlowe (who has chosen him for this errand) regards him as an oracle, your mother had rather any body else had been sent.
He is one of those puzzling, over-doing gentlemen, who think they see farther into matters than any body else, and are fond of discovered mysteries where there are none, in order to be thought shrewd men.
I can"t say I like him, either in the pulpit or out of it: I, who had a father one of the soundest divines and finest scholars in the kingdom; who never made an ostentation of what he knew; but loved and venerated he gospel he taught, preferring it to all other learning: to be obliged to hear a young man depart from his text as soon as he has named it, (so contrary, too, to the example set him by his learned and worthy princ.i.p.al,* when his health permits him to preach;) and throwing about, to a christian and country audience, sc.r.a.ps of Latin and Greek from the Pagan Cla.s.sics; and not always brought in with great propriety neither, (if I am to judge by the only way given me to judge of them, by the English he puts them into;) is an indication of something wrong, either in his head, or his heart, or both; for, otherwise, his education at the university must have taught him better. You know, my dear Miss Clary, the honour I have for the cloth: it is owing to that, that I say what I do.
* Dr. Lewen.
I know not the day he is to set out; and, as his inquiries are to be private, be pleased to take no notice of this intelligence. I have no doubt that your life and conversation are such as may defy the scrutinies of the most officious inquirer.
I am just now told that you have written a second letter to your sister: but am afraid they will wait for Mr. Brand"s report, before farther favour will be obtained from them; for they will not yet believe you are so ill as I fear you are.
But you would soon find that you have an indulgent mother, were she at liberty to act according to her own inclination. And this gives me great hopes that all will end well at last: for I verily think you are in the right way to a reconciliation. G.o.d give a blessing to it, and restore your health, and you to all your friends, prays
Your ever affectionate, JUDITH NORTON.
Your mother has privately sent me five guineas: she is pleased to say to help us in the illness we have been afflicted with; but, more likely, that I might send them to you, as from myself. I hope, therefore, I may send them up, with ten more I have still left.
I will send you word of Mr. Morden"s arrival, the moment I know it.
If agreeable, I should be glad to know all that pa.s.ses between your relations and you.
LETTER LXIV
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON WEDNESDAY, AUG. 2.
You give me, my dear Mrs. Norton, great pleasure in hearing of your"s and your son"s recovery. May you continue, for many, many years, a blessing to each other!
You tell me that you did actually write to my mother, offering to enclose to her mine of the 24th past: and you say it was not required of you.
That is to say, although you cover it over as gently as you could, that your offer was rejected; which makes it evident that no plea could be made for me. Yet, you bid me hope, that the grace I sued for would, in time, be granted.
The grace I then sued for was indeed granted; but you are afraid, you say, that they will wait for Mr. Brand"s report, before favour will be obtained in return to the second letter which I wrote to my sister; and you add, that I have an indulgent mother, were she at liberty to act according to her own inclination; and that all will end well at last.
But what, my dear Mrs. Norton, what is the grace I sue for in my second letter?--It is not that they will receive me into favour--If they think it is, they are mistaken. I do not, I cannot expect that. Nor, as I have often said, should I, if they would receive me, bear to live in the eye of those dear friends whom I have so grievously offended. "Tis only, simply, a blessing I ask: a blessing to die with; not to lie with.--Do they know that? and do they know that their unkindness will perhaps shorten my date; so that their favour, if ever they intend to grant it, may come too late?
Once more, I desire you not to think of coming to me. I have no uneasiness now, but what proceeds from the apprehension of seeing a man I would not see for the world, if I could help it; and from the severity of my nearest and dearest relations: a severity entirely their own, I doubt; for you tell me that my brother is at Edinburgh! You would therefore heighten their severity, and make yourself enemies besides, if you were to come to me--Don"t you see you would?
Mr. Brand may come, if he will. He is a clergyman, and must mean well; or I must think so, let him say of me what he will. All my fear is, that, as he knows I am in disgrace with a family whose esteem he is desirous to cultivate; and as he has obligations to my uncle Harlowe and to my father; he will be but a languid acquitter--not that I am afraid of what he, or any body in the world, can hear as to my conduct. You may, my revered and dear friend, indeed you may, rest satisfied, that that is such as may warrant me to challenge the inquiries of the most officious.
I will send you copies of what pa.s.ses, as you desire, when I have an answer to my second letter. I now begin to wish that I had taken the heart to write to my father himself; or to my mother, at least; instead of to my sister; and yet I doubt my poor mother can do nothing for me of herself. A strong confederacy, my dear Mrs. Norton, (a strong confederacy indeed!) against a poor girl, their daughter, sister, niece!
--My brother, perhaps, got it renewed before he left them. He needed not--his work is done; and more than done.
Don"t afflict yourself about money-matters on my account. I have no occasion for money. I am glad my mother was so considerate to you. I was in pain for you on the same subject. But Heaven will not permit so good a woman to want the humble blessings she was always satisfied with.
I wish every individual of our family were but as rich as you!--O my mamma Norton, you are rich! you are rich indeed!--the true riches are such content as you are blessed with.--And I hope in G.o.d that I am in the way to be rich too.
Adieu, my ever-indulgent friend. You say all will be at last happy--and I know it will--I confide that it will, with as much security, as you may, that I will be, to my last hour,
Your ever grateful and affectionate CL. HARLOWE.
LETTER LXV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
TUESDAY, AUG. 1.
I am most confoundedly chagrined and disappointed: for here, on Sat.u.r.day, arrived a messenger from Miss Howe, with a letter to my cousins;* which I knew nothing of till yesterday; when Lady Sarah and Lady Betty were procured to be here, to sit in judgment upon it with the old Peer, and my two kinswomen. And never was bear so miserably baited as thy poor friend!--And for what?--why for the cruelty of Miss Harlowe: For have I committed any new offence? and would I not have re-instated myself in her favour upon her own terms, if I could? And is it fair to punish me for what is my misfortune, and not my fault? Such event-judging fools as I have for my relations! I am ashamed of them all.
* See Letter LV. of this volume.
In that of Miss Howe was enclosed one to her from Miss Harlowe,* to be transmitted to my cousins, containing a final rejection of me; and that in very vehement and positive terms; yet she pretends that, in this rejection, she is governed more by principle than pa.s.sion--[D----d lie, as ever was told!] and, as a proof that she is, says, that she can forgive me, and does, on this one condition, that I will never molest her more--the whole letter so written as to make herself more admired, me more detested.
* See Letter XLI. of this volume.
What we have been told of the agitations and workings, and sighings and sobbings, of the French prophets among us formerly, was nothing at all to the scene exhibited by these maudlin souls, at the reading of these letters; and of some affecting pa.s.sages extracted from another of my fair implacable"s to Miss Howe--such lamentations for the loss of so charming a relation! such applaudings of her virtue, of her exaltedness of soul and sentiment! such menaces of disinherisons! I, not needing their reproaches to be stung to the heart with my own reflections, and with the rage of disappointment; and as sincerely as any of them admiring her-- "What the devil," cried I, "is all this for? Is it not enough to be despised and rejected? Can I help her implacable spirit? Would I not repair the evils I have made her suffer?"--Then was I ready to curse them all, herself and Miss Howe for company: and heartily swore that she should yet be mine.
I now swear it over again to thee--"Were her death to follow in a week after the knot is tied, by the Lord of Heaven, it shall be tied, and she shall die a Lovelace!"--Tell her so, if thou wilt: but, at the same time, tell her that I have no view to her fortune; and that I will solemnly resign that, and all pretensions to it, in whose favour she pleases, if she resign life issueless.--I am not so low-minded a wretch, as to be guilty of any sordid views to her fortune.--Let her judge for herself, then, whether it be not for her honour rather to leave this world a Lovelace than a Harlowe.
But do not think I will entirely rest a cause so near my heart upon an advocate who so much more admires his client"s adversary than his client.
I will go to town, in a few days, in order to throw myself at her feet: and I will carry with me, or have at hand, a resolute, well-prepared parson; and the ceremony shall be performed, let what will be the consequence.
But if she will permit me to attend her for this purpose at either of the churches mentioned in the license, (which she has by her, and, thank Heaven! has not returned me with my letters,) then will I not disturb her; but meet her at the altar in either church, and will engage to bring my two cousins to attend her, and even Lady Sarah and Lady Betty; and my Lord M. in person shall give her to me.
Or, if it be still more agreeable to her, I will undertake that either Lady Sarah or Lady Betty, or both, shall go to town and attend her down; and the marriage shall be celebrated in their presence, and in that of Lord M., either here or elsewhere, at her own choice.
Do not play me booty, Belford; but sincerely and warmly use all the eloquence thou art master of, to prevail upon her to choose one of these three methods. One of them she must choose--by my soul, she must.
Here is Charlotte tapping at my closet-door for admittance. What a devil wants Charlotte?--I will hear no more reproaches!--Come in, girl!