LETTER 318: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE
[Summary]

 Tuesday, July 11

I APPROVE, my dearest friend, of the method you prescribe for the conveyance of our letters; and have already caused the porter of the inn to be engaged to bring to me yours, the moment that Collins arrives with them: as the servant of the house where I am will be permitted to carry mine to Collins for you. 
   
As you are so earnest to have all the particulars of my sad story before you, I will, if life and spirits be lent me, give you an ample account of all that has befallen me from the time you mention. But this, it is very probable, you will not see till after the close of my last scene: and as I shall write with a view to that, I hope no other voucher will be wanted for the veracity of the writer.
   
I am far from thinking myself out of the reach of this man's further violence. But what can I do? Whither can I fly?-Perhaps my bad state of health (which must grow worse, as recollection of the past evils, and reflections upon them, grow heavier and heavier upon me) may be my protection. Once, indeed, I thought of going abroad; and had I the prospect of many years before me, I would go- But, my dear, the blow is given-Nor have you reason, now, circumstanced as I am, to be concerned that it is. What a heart must I have if it not be broken!—And , indeed, my dear, my best, I had almost said my only friend, I do so earnestly wish for the last closing scene, and with so much comfort find myself in a declining way, that I even sometimes ungratefully regret that naturally healthy constitution which used to double upon me all my enjoyments.  As to the earnestly recommended prosecution, I may possibly touch upon it more largely hereafter, if ever I shall have better spirits; for they are at present extremely sunk and low-But, just now, will only say that I would sooner suffer every evil (the repetition of the capital one excepted), than appear publicly in a court to do myself justice.* And I am heartily grieved that your mother prescribes such a measure as the condition of our future correspondence-for the continuance of your friendship, my dear, and the desire I had to correspond with you to my life's end, were all my remaining hopes and consolation. Nevertheless, as that friendship is in the power of the heart, not of the hand only, I hope I shall not forfeit that.
    Oh my dear! what weight has a parent's curse-You cannot imagine-But I will not touch this string to you, who never loved them!-A reconciliation with them is not to be hoped for!
    I have written a letter to Miss Rawlins of Hampstead; the answer to which, just now received, has helped me to the knowledge of the vile contrivance by which this wicked man got your letter of June the 10th. I will give you the contents of both.
    In mine to her, I briefly acquaint her `with what had befallen me, through the vileness of the women who had been passed upon me as the aunt and cousin of the wickedest of men; and own that I never was married to him. I desire her to make particular inquiry, and to let me know, who it was at Mrs. Moore's, that on Sunday afternoon, June 11, while I was at church, received a letter from Miss Howe, pretending to be me, and lying on a couch-which letter, had it come to my hands, would have saved me from ruin. I excuse myself (from the delirium which the barbarous usage I had received threw me into, and from a confinement as barbarous and illegal), that I had not before applied to Mrs. Moore for an account of what I was indebted to her: which I now desired. And, for fear of being traced by Mr. Lovelace, I directed her to superscribe her answer, To Mrs. Mary Atkins; to  be left till called for, at the Bell Savage Inn, on Ludgate Hill.'
    In her answer she tells me, `that the vile wretch prevailed upon Mrs. Bevis to personate me. A sudden motion of his, it seems, on the appearance of your messenger-persuaded to lie along on a couch: a handkerchief over her neck and face; pretending to be ill; drawn in, by false notions of your ill offices to keep up a variance between a man and his wife-and so taking the letter from your messenger as me.
    “Miss Rawlins takes pains to excuse Mrs. Bevis's intention. She expresses their astonishment and concern at what I communicate: but is glad, however, and so they are all, that they know in time the vileness of the base man; the two widows and herself having, at his earnest invitation, designed me a visit at Mrs. Sinclair's; supposing all to be happy between him and me; as he assured them was the case. Mr. Lovelace, she informs me, had handsomely satisfied Mrs. Moore. And Miss, ' Rawlins concludes with wishing to be favoured with the particulars of so extraordinary a story, as they may be of use to let her see what wicked creatures (women as well as men) there are in the world.”
    I thank you for the drafts of your two letters which were intercepted by this horrid man. I see the great advantage they were of to him, in the prosecution of villainous designs against the poor wretch whom he has so long made the sport of his abhorred inventions.
   
Let me repeat that I am quite sick of life; and of an earth in which innocent and benevolent spirits are sure to be considered as aliens, and to be made sufferers by the genuine sons and daughters of that earth.
   
How unhappy that those letters only which could have acquainted with his horrid views, and armed me against them and against the vileness of the base women, should fall into his hands!-Unhappier ill, in that my very escape to Hampstead gave him the opportunity of receiving them!
   
Nevertheless, I cannot but still wonder how it was possible for that Tomlinson to know what passed between Mr Hickman and my uncle Harlowe[1]: a circumstance which gave that vile impostor most of his credit with me.
   
How the wicked wretch himself could find me out at Hampstead must also remain wholly a mystery to me. He may glory in his contrivances-he who has more wickedness than wit, may glory in his contrivances!-but, after all, I shall, I humbly presume to hope, be happy, when he, poor wretch, will be-alas!-who can say what!
   
Adieu, my dearest friend!-May you be happy!-And then your Clarissa Harlowe cannot be wholly miserable!

 * Dr Lewin, as will be seen hereafter, presses her to this public prosecution by arguments worthy of his character: which she answers in a manner worthy of hers.

 

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[1] See the note at the bottom of p. 1013