LETTER XXV
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, MARCH 31.
You have very kindly accounted for your silence. People in misfortuneare always in doubt. They are too apt to turn even unavoidable accidentsinto slights and neglects; especially in those whose favourable opinionthey wish to preserve.
I am sure I ought evermore to exempt my Anna Howe from the supposedpossibility of her becoming one of those who bask only in the sun-shineof a friend: but nevertheless her friendship is too precious to me, notto doubt my own merits on the one hand, and not to be anxious for thepreservation of it, on the other.
You so generously gave me liberty to chide you, that I am afraid oftaking it, because I could sooner mistrust my own judgment, than that ofa beloved friend, whose ingenuousness in acknowledging an imputed errorseems to set her above the commission of a wilful one. This makesme half-afraid to ask you, if you think you are not too cruel, tooungenerous shall I say? in your behaviour to a man who loves you sodearly, and is so worthy and so sincere a man?
Only it is by YOU, or I should be ashamed to be outdone in that truemagnanimity, which makes one thankful for the wounds given by a truefriend. I believe I was guilty of a petulance, which nothing but myuneasy situation can excuse; if that can. I am but almost afraid to begof you, and yet I repeatedly do, to give way to that charming spirit,whenever it rises to your pen, which smiles, yet goes to the quick of myfault. What patient shall be afraid of a probe in so delicate a hand?--Isay, I am almost afraid to pray you to give way to it, for fear youshould, for that very reason, restrain it. For the edge may be takenoff, if it does not make the subject of its raillery wince a little.Permitted or desired satire may be apt, in a generous satirist, mendingas it rallies, to turn too soon into panegyric. Yours is intended toinstruct; and though it bites, it pleases at the same time: no fear of awound's wrankling or festering by so delicate a point as you carry;not envenomed by personality, not intending to expose, or ridicule, orexasperate. The most admired of our moderns know nothing of this art:Why? Because it must be founded in good nature, and directed by a rightheart. The man, not the fault, is generally the subject of their satire:and were it to be just, how should it be useful; how should it answerany good purpose; when every gash (for their weapon is a broad sword,not a lancet) lets in the air of public ridicule, and exasperates whereit should heal? Spare me not therefore because I am your friend. Forthat very reason spare me not. I may feel your edge, fine as it is. Imay be pained: you would lose you end if I were not: but after the firstsensibility (as I have said more than once before) I will love you thebetter, and my amended heart shall be all yours; and it will then bemore worthy to be yours.
You have taught me what to say to, and what to think of, Mr. Lovelace.You have, by agreeable anticipation, let me know how it is probable hewill apply to me to be excused. I will lay every thing before you thatshall pass on the occasion, if he do apply, that I may take your advice,when it can come in time; and when it cannot, that I may receive yourcorrection, or approbation, as I may happen to merit either.--Only onething must be allowed for me; that whatever course I shall be permittedor be forced to steer, I must be considered as a person out of her owndirection. Tost to and fro by the high winds of passionate controul,(and, as I think, unseasonable severity,) I behold the desired port,the single state, into which I would fain steer; but am kept off bythe foaming billows of a brother's and sister's envy, and by the ragingwinds of a supposed invaded authority; while I see in Lovelace, therocks on one hand, and in Solmes, the sands on the other; and tremble,lest I should split upon the former, or strike upon the latter.
But you, my better pilot, to what a charming hope do you bid me aspire,if things come to extremity!--I will not, as you caution me, too muchdepend upon your success with your mother in my favour; for well I knowher high notions of implicit duty in a child: but yet I will hope too;because her seasonable protection may save me perhaps from a greaterrashness: and in this case, she shall direct me in all my ways: I willdo nothing but by her orders, and by her advice and yours: not seeany body: not write to any body: nor shall any living soul, but by herdirection and yours, know where I am. In any cottage place me, I willnever stir out, unless, disguised as your servant, I am now-and-thenpermitted an evening-walk with you: and this private protection to begranted for no longer time than till my cousin Morden comes; which, as Ihope, cannot be long.
I am afraid I must not venture to take the hint you give me, to depositsome of my clothes; although I will some of my linen, as well as papers.
I will tell you why--Betty had for some time been very curious about mywardrobe, whenever I took out any of my things before her.
Observing this, I once, on taking one of my garden-airings, left my keysin the locks: and on my return surprised the creature with her hand uponthe keys, as if shutting the door.
She was confounded at my sudden coming back. I took no notice: but onher retiring, I found my cloaths were not in the usual order.
I doubted not, upon this, that her curiosity was owing to the orders shehad received; and being afraid they would abridge me of my airings, iftheir suspicions were not obviated, it has ever since been my custom(among other contrivances) not only to leave my keys in the locks, butto employ the wench now-and-then in taking out my cloaths, suit by suit,on pretence of preventing their being rumpled or creased, and to seethat the flowered silver suit did not tarnish: sometimes declaredly togive myself employment, having little else to do. With which employment(superadded to the delight taken by the low as well as by the high ofour sex in seeing fine cloaths) she seemed always, I thought, as wellpleased as if it answered one of the offices she had in charge.
To this, and to the confidence they have in a spy so diligent, andto their knowing that I have not one confidant in a family in whichnevertheless I believe every servant loves me; nor have attemptedto make one; I suppose, I owe the freedom I enjoy of my airings: andperhaps (finding I make no movements towards going away) they are themore secure, that I shall at last be prevailed upon to comply withtheir measures: since they must think, that, otherwise, they give meprovocation enough to take some rash step, in order to free myselffrom a treatment so disgraceful; and which [God forgive me, if I judgeamiss!] I am afraid my brother and sister would not be sorry to drive meto take.
If, therefore, such a step should become necessary, (which I yet hopewill not,) I must be contented to go away with the clothes I shallhave on at the time. My custom to be dressed for the day, as soon asbreakfast is over, when I have had no household employments to preventme, will make such a step (if I am forced to take it) less suspected.And the linen I shall deposit, in pursuance of your kind hint, cannot bemissed.
This custom, although a prisoner, (as I may too truly say,) and neithervisited nor visiting, I continue. We owe to ourselves, and to our sex,you know, to be always neat; and never to be surprised in a way weshould be pained to be seen in.
Besides, people in adversity (which is the state of trial of every goodquality) should endeavour to preserve laudable customs, that, if sunshine return, they may not be losers by their trial.
Does it not, moreover, manifest a firmness of mind, in an unhappyperson, to keep hope alive? To hope for better days, is half to deservethem: for could we have just ground for such a hope, if we did notresolve to deserve what that hope bids us aspire to?--Then who shallbefriend a person who forsakes herself?
These are reflections by which I sometimes endeavour to support myself.
I know you don't despise my grave airs, although (with a view no doubtto irradiate my mind in my misfortunes) you rally me upon them. Everybody has not your talent of introducing serious and important lessons,in such a happy manner as at once to delight and instruct.
What a multitude of contrivances may not young people fall upon, if themind be not engaged by acts of kindness and condescension! I am not usedby my friends of late as I always used their servants.
When I was intrusted with the family-management, I always
found itright, as well in policy as generosity, to repose a trust in them. Notto seem to expect or depend upon justice from them, is in a manner tobid them to take opportunities, whenever they offer, to be unjust.
Mr. Solmes, (to expatiate on this low, but not unuseful subject,) in hismore trifling solicitudes, would have had a sorry key-keeper in me. WereI mistress of a family, I would not either take to myself, or give toservants, the pain of keeping those I had reason to suspect. People lowin station have often minds not sordid. Nay, I have sometimes thought,that (even take number for number) there are more honest low people,than honest high. In the one, honest is their chief pride. In the other,the love of power, of grandeur, of pleasure, mislead; and that and theirambition induce a paramount pride, which too often swallows up the morelaudable one.
Many of the former would scorn to deceive a confidence. But I have seen,among the most ignorant of their class, a susceptibility of resentment,if their honesty has been suspected: and have more than once been forcedto put a servant right, whom I have heard say, that, although she valuedherself upon her honesty, no master or mistress should suspect her fornothing.
How far has the comparison I had in my head, between my friendstreatment of me, and my treatment of the servants, carried me!--But wealways allowed ourselves to expatiate on such subjects, whether lowor high, as might tend to enlarge our minds, or mend our management,whether notional or practical, and whether such expatiating respectedour present, or might respect our probable future situations.
What I was principally leading to, was to tell you how ingenious I am inmy contrivances and pretences to blind my gaoleress, and to take off thejealousy of her principals on my going down so often into the garden andpoultry-yard. People suspiciously treated are never I believe at a lossfor invention. Sometimes I want air, and am better the moment I am outof my chamber.--Sometimes spirits; and then my bantams and pheasants orthe cascade divert me; the former, by their inspiring liveliness; thelatter, by its echoing dashes, and hollow murmurs.--Sometimes, solitudeis of all things my wish; and the awful silence of the night, thespangled element, and the rising and setting sun, how promotive ofcontemplation!--Sometimes, when I intend nothing, and expect no letters,I am officious to take Betty with me; and at others, bespeak herattendance, when I know she is otherwise employed, and cannot give itme.
These more capital artifices I branch out into lesser ones, withoutnumber. Yet all have not only the face of truth, but are real truths;although not my principal motive. How prompt a thing is will!--Whatimpediments does dislike furnish!--How swiftly, through everydifficulty, do we move with the one!--how tardily with the other!--everytrifling obstruction weighing us down, as if lead were fastened to ourfeet!
FRIDAY MORNING, ELEVEN O'CLOCK.
I have already made up my parcel of linen. My heart ached all the timeI was employed about it; and still aches, at the thoughts of its being anecessary precaution.
When the parcel comes to your hands, as I hope it safely will, you willbe pleased to open it. You will find in it two parcels sealed up; oneof which contains the letters you have not yet seen; being those writtensince I left you: in the other are all the letters and copies of lettersthat have passed between you and me since I was last with you; with someother papers on subjects so much above me, that I cannot wish them to beseen by any body whose indulgence I am not so sure of, as I am of yours.If my judgment ripen with my years, perhaps I may review them.
Mrs. Norton used to say, from her reverend father, that youth was thetime of life for imagination and fancy to work in: then, were a writerto lay by his works till riper years and experience should direct thefire rather to glow, than to flame out; something between both mightperhaps be produced that would not displease a judicious eye.
In a third division, folded up separately, are all Mr. Lovelace'sletters written to me since he was forbidden this house, and copiesof my answers to them. I expect that you will break the seals of thisparcel, and when you have perused them all, give me your free opinion ofmy conduct.
By the way, not a line from that man!--Not one line! Wednesday Ideposited mine. It remained there on Wednesday night. What time it wastaken away yesterday I cannot tell: for I did not concern myself aboutit, till towards night; and then it was not there. No return at ten thisday. I suppose he is as much out of humour as I.--With all my heart.
He may be mean enough perhaps, if ever I should put it into his power,to avenge himself for the trouble he has had with me.--But that now, Idare say, I never shall.
I see what sort of a man the encroacher is. And I hope we are equallysick of one another.--My heart is vexedly easy, if I may so describeit.--Vexedly--because of the apprehended interview with Solmes, and theconsequences it may be attended with: or else I should be quite easy;for why? I have not deserved the usage I receive: and could I be rid ofSolmes, as I presume I am of Lovelace, their influence over my father,mother, and uncles, against me, could not hold.
The five guineas tied up in one corner of a handkerchief under thelinen, I beg you will let pass as an acknowledgement for the troubleI give your trusty servant. You must not chide me for this. You know Icannot be easy unless I have my way in these little matters.
I was going to put up what little money I have, and some of myornaments; but they are portable, and I cannot forget them. Besides,should they (suspecting me) desire to see any of the jewels, and wereI not able to produce them, it would amount to a demonstration of anintention which would have a guilty appearance to them.
FRIDAY, ONE O'CLOCK, IN THE WOOD-HOUSE.
No letter yet from this man! I have luckily deposited my parcel, andhave your letter of last night. If Robert take this without the parcel,pray let him return immediately for it. But he cannot miss it, I think:and must conclude that it is put there for him to take away. You maybelieve, from the contents of yours, that I shall immediately writeagain.--
CLARISSA HARLOWE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 27
