LETTER XLI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWEFRIDAY, MAY 19.
I would not, if I could help it, be so continually brooding over the darkand gloomy face of my condition [all nature, you know, my dear, and everything in it, has a bright and a gloomy side] as to be thought unable toenjoy a more hopeful prospect. And this, not only for my own sake, butfor 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 hourstogether 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; andI cannot but pity her for her neglected education, as it is matter of somuch regret to herself: else, there would not be much in it; as the lowand illiterate are the most useful people in the common-wealth (sincesuch constitute the labouring part of the public); and as a letterededucation but too generally sets people above those servile offices bywhich the businesses of the world is carried on. Nor have I any doubtbut there are, take the world through, twenty happy people among theunlettered, to one among those who have had a school-education.
This, however, concludes not against learning or letters; since one wouldwish to lift to some little distinction, and more genteel usefulness,those who have capacity, and whose parentage one respects, or whoseservices one would wish to reward.
Were my mind quite at ease, I could enlarge, perhaps not unusefully, uponthis subject; for I have considered it with as much attention as myyears, and little experience and observation, will permit.
But the extreme illiterateness and indocility of this maid aresurprising, considering that she wants not inquisitiveness, appearswilling to learn, and, in other respects, has quick parts. This confirmsto me what I have heard remarked, That there is a docible season, alearning-time, as I may say, for every person, in which the mind may beled, step by step, from the lower to the higher, (year by year,) toimprovement. How industriously ought these seasons, as they offer, to betaken hold of by tutors, parents, and other friends, to whom thecultivation of the genius of children and youth is committed; since, onceelapsed, and no foundation laid, they hardly ever return!--And yet itmust be confessed, that there are some geniuses, which, like some fruits,ripen not till late. And industry and perseverance will do prodigiousthings--but for a learner to have those first rudiments to master attwenty years of age, suppose, which others are taught, and theythemselves might have attained, at ten, what an uphill labour!
These kind of observations you have always wished me to intersperse, asthey arise to my thoughts. But it is a sign that my prospects are alittle mended, or I should not, among so many more interesting ones thatmy mind has been of late filled with, have had heart's ease enough tomake 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 aboutthe house than I was before--Poor Mrs. Fretchville!--Though I know hernot, I pity her!--Next, it looks well, that he had apprized the women(before this conversation with them, of his intention to stay in thishouse, after I was removed to the other. By the tone of his voice heseemed 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--freepeople may go a great way, but not all the way: and as such are generallyunguarded, 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 hisfamily, while my brother and Singleton continue their machinations,carries no bad face with it; and one may the rather allow for theirexpectations, that so proud a spirit as his should attend them for thispurpose, as he speaks of them sometimes as persons of punctilio.
Other reasons I will mention for my being easier in my mind than I wasbefore 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'sof 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 makeinquiries about us.
His resolution to avoid violence, were he to fall in either with mybrother, or this Singleton; and the easy method he has chalked out, inthis case, to prevent mischief; since I need only not to deny my beinghis. But yet I should be driven into such a tacit acknowledgement to anynew persons, till I am so, although I have been led (so much against myliking) to give countenance to the belief of the persons below that weare married.
I think myself obliged, from what passed between Mr. Lovelace and me onWednesday, and from what I overheard him say, to consent to go with himto the play; and the rather, as he had the discretion to propose one ofthe nieces to accompany me.
I cannot but acknowledge that I am pleased to find that he has actuallywritten to Lord M.
I have promised to give Mr. Lovelace an answer to his proposals as soonas I have heard from you, my dear, on the subject.
I hope that in my next letter I shall have reason to confirm thesefavourable appearances. Favourable I must think them in the wreck I havesuffered.
I hope, that in the trial which you hint may happen between me andmyself, (as you* express it,) if he should so behave as to oblige me toleave him, I shall be able to act in such a manner as to bring nodiscredit upon myself in your eye; and that is all now that I have towish for. But, if I value him so much as you are pleased to suppose Ido, the trial, which you imagine will be so difficult to me, will not, Iconceive, be upon getting from him, when the means to affect my escapeare lent me; but how I shall behave when got from him; and if, like theIsraelites of old, I shall be so weak as to wish to return to my Egyptianbondage.
* See Letter XXXIV. of this volume.
I think it will not be amiss, notwithstanding the present favourableappearances, that you should perfect the scheme (whatever it be) whichyou 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 dangerousman; and it is therefore but prudence to be watchful, and to be providedagainst the worst. Lord bless me, my dear, how I am reduced!--Could Iever have thought to be in such a situation, as to be obliged to staywith 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, otherwiseI have no doubt that I am mistress of my goings-out and comings-in; anddid I think it needful, and were I not afraid of my brother and CaptainSingleton, I would oftener put it to trial.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 43
