Clarissa Harlowe, Volume 9 (of 9) by Samuel Richardson

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I presume, that the diamond necklace, solitaire, and buckles, which were
properly my own, presented by my mother's uncle, Sir Josias, Brookland,
will not be purchased by any one of my family, for a too obvious reason:
in this case I desire that they may be sent to the best advantage, and
apply the money to the uses of my will.

In the beginning of this tedious writing, I referred to the latter part
of it, the naming of the subject of the discourse which I wished might be
delivered at my funeral, if permitted to be interred with my ancestors.
I think the following will be suitable to my case. I hope the alteration
of the words her and she, for him and he, may be allowable.

'Let not her that is deceived trust in vanity; for vanity
shall be her recompense. She shall be accomplished before
her time; and her branch shall not be green. She shall
shake off her unripe grape as the vine, and shall cut off her
flower as the olive.'*

* Job xv. 31, 32, 33.

But if I am to be interred in town, let only the usual burial-service be
read over my corpse.

If my body be permitted to be carried down, I bequeath ten pounds to be
given to the poor of the parish, at the discretion of the church-wardens,
within a fortnight after my interment.

If any necessary matter be omitted in this my will, or if any thing
appear doubtful or contradictory, as possibly may be the case; since
besides my inexperience in these matters, I am now, at this time, very
weak and ill, having put off the finishing hand a little too long, in
hopes of obtaining the last forgiveness of my honoured friend; in which
case I should have acknowledged the favour with a suitable warmth of
duty, and filled up some blanks which I left to the very last,* in a more
agreeable manner to myself than now I have been enabled to do--in case of
such omissions and imperfections, I desire that my cousin Morden will be
so good as to join with Mr. Belford in considering them, and in comparing
them with what I have more explicitly written; and if, after that, any
doubt remain, that they will be pleased to apply to Miss Howe, who knows
my whole heart: and I desire that the construction of these three may be
established: and I hereby establish it, provided it be unanimous, and
direct it to be put in force, as if I had so written and determined
myself.

And now, O my blessed REDEEMER, do I, with a lively faith, humbly lay
hold of thy meritorious death and sufferings; hoping to be washed
clean in thy precious blood from all my sins: in the bare hope of
the happy consequences of which, how light do those sufferings seem
(grievous as they were at the time) which, I confidently trust,
will be a mean, by the grace, to work out for me a more exceeding
and eternal weight of glory!

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Signed, sealed, published, and declared, the day and year above-written,
by the said Clarissa Harlowe, as her last will and testament;
contained in seven sheets of paper, all written with her own hand,
and every sheet signed and sealed by herself, in the presence of
us,

John Williams,
Arthur Bedall,
Elizabeth Swanton.

LETTER XXXIV

COLONEL MORDEN, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
SAT. SEPT. 16.

I have been employed in a most melancholy task: in reading the will of
the dear deceased.

The unhappy mother and Mrs. Norton chose to be absent on the affecting
occasion. But Mrs. Harlowe made it her earnest request that every
article of it should be fulfilled.

They were all extremely touched with the preamble.

The first words of the will--'I, Clarissa Harlowe, now by strange
melancholy accidents, lodging,' &c. drew tears from some, sighs from
all.

The directions for her funeral, in case she were or were not permitted
to be carried down; the mention of her orders having been given for the
manner of her being laid out, and the presence of mind so visible
throughout the whole, obtained their admiration, expressed by hands and
eyes lifted up, and by falling tears.

When I read the direction, 'That her body was not to be viewed, except
any of her relations should vouchsafe, for the last time, to look upon
her;' they turned away, and turned to me, three or four times
alternately. Mrs. Hervey and Miss Arabella sobbed; the uncles wiped
their eyes; the brother looked down; the father wrung his hands.

I was obliged to stop at the words, 'That she was nobody's.'

But when I came to the address to be made to the accursed man, 'if he
were not to be diverted from seeing her dead, whom ONCE before he had
seen in a manner dead'----execration, and either vows or wishes of
revenge, filled every mouth.

These were still more fervently renewed, when they came to hear read her
forgiveness of even this man.

You remember, Sir, on our first reading of the will in town, the
observations I made on the foul play which it is evident the excellent
creature met with from this abandoned man, and what I said upon the
occasion. I am not used to repeat things of that nature.

The dear creature's noble contempt of the nothing, as she nobly calls it,
about which she had been giving such particular directions, to wit, her
body; and her apologizing for the particularity of those directions from
the circumstances she was in--had the same, and as strong an effect upon
me, as when I first read the animated paragraph; and, pointed by my eye,
(by turns cast upon them all,) affected them all.

When the article was read which bequeathed to the father the
grandfather's estate, and the reason assigned for it, (so generous and so
dutiful,) the father could sit no longer; but withdrew, wiping his eyes,
and lifting up his spread hands at Mr. James Harlowe; who rose to attend
him to the door, as Arabella likewise did----All he could say--O Son!
Son!--O Girl! Girl!--as if he reproached them for the parts they had
acted, and put him upon acting.

But yet, on some occasions, this brother and sister showed themselves to
be true will disputants.

Let tongue and eyes express what they will, Mr. Belford, the first
reading of a will, where a person dies worth anything considerable,
generally affords a true test of the relations' love to the deceased.

The clothes, the thirty guineas for mourning to Mrs. Norton, with the
recommendation of the good woman for housekeeper at The Grove, were
thought sufficient, had the article of 600L. which was called monstrous,
been omitted. Some other passages in the will were called flights, and
such whimsies as distinguish people of imagination from those of
judgment.

My cousin Dolly Hervey was grudged the library. Miss Harlowe said, That
as she and her sister never bought the same books, she would take that
to herself, and would make it up to her cousin Dolly one way or other.

I intend, Mr. Belford, to save you the trouble of interposing--the
library shall be my cousin Dolly's.

Mrs. Hervey could hardly keep her seat. On this occasion, however, she
only said, That her late dear and ever dear niece, was too glad to her
and hers. But, at another time, she declared, with tears, that she could
not forgive herself for a letter she wrote,* looking at Miss Arabella,
whom, it seems, unknown to any body, she had consulted before she wrote
it and which, she said, must have wounded a spirit, that now she saw had
been too deeply wounded before.

* See Vol. III. Letter LII.

O my Aunt, said Arabella, no more of that!--Who would have thought that
the dear creature had been such a penitent?

Mr. John and Mr. Antony Harlowe were so much affected with the articles
in their favour, (bequeathed to them without a word or hint of reproach
or recrimination,) that they broke out into self-accusations; and
lamented that their sweet niece, as they called her, was not got above
all grateful acknowledgement and returns. Indeed, the mutual upbraidings
and grief of all present, upon those articles in which every one was
remembered for good, so often interrupted me, that the reading took up
above six hours. But curses upon the accursed man were a refuge to which
they often resorted to exonerate themselves.

How wounding a thing, Mr. Belford, is a generous and well-distinguished
forgiveness! What revenge can be more effectual, and more noble, were
revenge intended, and were it wished to strike remorse into a guilty or
ungrateful heart! But my dear cousin's motives were all duty and love.
She seems indeed to have been, as much as a mortal could be, LOVE itself.
Love sublimed by a purity, by a true delicacy, that hardly any woman
before her could boast of. O Mr. Belford, what an example would she have
given in every station of life, (as wife, mother, mistress, friend,) had
her lot fallen upon a man blessed with a mind like her own!

The 600L. bequeathed to Mrs. Norton, the library to Miss Hervey, and the
remembrances to Miss Howe, were not the only articles grudged. Yet to
what purpose did they regret the pecuniary bequests, when the poor's
fund, and not themselves, would have had the benefit, had not those
legacies been bequeathed?

But enough passed to convince me that my cousin was absolutely right in
her choice of an executor out of the family. Had she chosen one in it,
I dare say that her will would have been no more regarded than if it had
been the will of a dead king; than that of Lousi XIV. in particular; so
flagrantly broken through by his nephew the Duke of Orleans before he was
cold. The only will of that monarch, perhaps, which was ever disputed.

But little does Mr. James Harlowe think that, while he is grasping at
hundreds, he will, most probably, lose thousands, if he be my survivor.
A man of a spirit so selfish and narrow shall not be my heir.

You will better conceive, Mr. Belford, than I can express, how much they
were touched at the hint that the dear creature had been obliged to part
with some of her clothes.

Silent reproach seized every one of them when I came to the passage where
she mentions that she deferred filling up some blanks, in hopes of
receiving their last blessing and forgiveness.

I will only add, that they could not bear to hear read the concluding
part, so solemnly addressed to her Redeemer. They all arose from their
seats, and crowded out of the apartment we were in; and then, as I
afterwards found, separated, in order to seek that consolation in
solitary retirement, which, though they could not hope for from their own
reflections, yet, at the time, they had less reason to expect in each
other's company. I am, Sir,

Your faithful and obedient servant,
WILLIAM MORDEN.

LETTER XXXV

MR. BELFORD, TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD M.
LONDON, SEPT. 14.

MY LORD,

I am very apprehensive that the affair between Mr. Lovelace and the late
excellent Miss Clarissa Harlowe will be attended with farther bad
consequences, notwithstanding her dying injunctions to the contrary. I
would, therefore, humbly propose that your Lordship, and his other
relations, will forward the purpose your kinsman lately had to go abroad;
where I hope he will stay till all is blown over. But as he will not
stir, if he knew the true motives of your wishes, the avowed inducement,
as I hinted once to Mr. Mowbray, may be such as respects his own health
both of person and mind. To Mr. Mowbray and Mr. Tourville all countries
are alike; and they perhaps will accompany him.

I am glad to hear that he is in a way of recovery; but this the rather
induces me to press the matter. I think no time should be lost.

Your Lordship had head that I have the honour to be the executor of this
admirable lady's last will. I transcribe from it the following
paragraph.

[He then transcribes the article which so gratefully mentions this
nobleman, and the ladies of his family, in relation to the rings
she bequeaths them, about which he desires their commands.]

LETTER XXXVI

MISS MONTAGUE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
M. HALL, FRIDAY, SEPT. 15.

SIR,

My Lord having the gout in his right hand, his Lordship, and Lady Sarah,
and Lady Betty, have commanded me to inform you, that, before your letter
came, Mr. Lovelace was preparing for a foreign tour. We shall endeavour
to hasten him away on the motives you suggest.

We are all extremely affected with the dear lady's death. Lady Betty and
Lady Sarah have been indisposed ever since they heard of it. They had
pleased themselves, as had my sister and self, with the hopes of
cultivating her acquaintance and friendship after he was gone abroad,
upon her own terms. Her kind remembrance of each of us has renewed,
though it could not heighten, our regrets for so irreparable a loss. We
shall order Mr. Finch, our goldsmith, to wait on you. He has our
directions about the rings. They will be long, long worn in memory of
the dear testatrix.

Every body is assured that you will do all in your power to prevent
farther ill consequences from this melancholy affair. My Lord desires
his compliments to you. I am, Sir,

Your humble servant,
CH. MONTAGUE.

*************************

This collection having run into a much greater length than was wished, it
is proper to omit several letters that passed between Colonel Morden,
Miss Howe, Mr. Belford, and Mr. Hickman, in relation to the execution of
the lady's will, &c.

It is, however, necessary to observe, on this subject, that the unhappy
mother, being supported by the two uncles, influenced the afflicted
father to over-rule all his son's objections, and to direct a literal
observation of the will; and at the same time to give up all the sums
which he was empowered by it to reimburse himself; as also to take upon
himself to defray the funeral expenses.

Mr. Belford so much obliges Miss Howe by his steadiness, equity, and
dispatch, and by his readiness to contribute to the directed collection,
that she voluntarily entered into a correspondence with him, as the
representative of her beloved friend. In the course of which, he
communicated to her (in confidence) the letters which passed between him
and Mr. Lovelace, and, by Colonel Morden's consent, those which passed
between that gentleman and himself.

He sent, with the first parcel of letters which he had transcribed out of
short-hand for Miss Howe, a letter to Mr. Hickman, dated the 16th of
September, in which he expresses himself as follows:

'But I ought, Sir, in this parcel to have kept out one letter. It is
that which relates to the interview between yourself and Mr. Lovelace, at
Mr. Dormer's,* in which Mr. Lovelace treats you with an air of levity,
which neither your person, your character, nor your commission, deserved;
but which was his usual way of treating every one whose business he was
not pleased with. I hope, Sir, you have too much greatness of mind to be
disturbed at the contents of this letter, should Miss Howe communicate
them to you; and the rather, as it is impossible that you should suffer
with her on that account.'

* See Vol. VII. Letter XXVIII.

Mr. Belford then excuses Mr. Lovelace as a good-natured man with all his
faults; and gives instances of his still greater freedoms with himself.

To this Mr. Hickman answers, in his letter of the 18th:

'As to Mr. Lovelace's treatment of me in the letter you are pleased to
mention, I shall not be concerned at it, whatever it be. I went to him
prepared to expect odd behaviour from him; and was not disappointed. I
argue to myself, in all such cases as this, as Miss Howe, from her
ever-dear friend, argues, That if the reflections thrown upon me are
just, I ought not only to forgive them, but endeavour to profit by them;
if unjust, that I ought to despise them, and the reflector too, since it
would be inexcusable to strengthen by anger an enemy whose malice might
be disarmed by contempt. And, moreover, I should be almost sorry to find
myself spoken well of by a man who could treat, as he treated, a lady who
was an ornament to her sex and to human nature.

'I thank you, however, Sir, for your consideration for me in this
particular, and for your whole letter, which gives me so desirable an
instance of the friendship which you assured me of when I was last in
town; and which I as cordially embrace as wish to cultivate.'

Miss Howe, in her's of the 20th, acknowledging the receipt of the
letters, and papers, and legacies, sent with Mr. Belford's letter to Mr.
Hickman, assures him, 'That no use shall be made of his communications,
but what he shall approve of.'

He had mentioned, with compassion, the distresses of the Harlowe family--
'Persons of a pitiful nature, says she, may pity them. I am not one of
those. You, I think, pity the infernal man likewise; while I, from my
heart, grudge him his phrensy, because it deprives him of that remorse,
which, I hope, in his recovery, will never leave him. At times, Sir, let
me tell you, that I hate your whole sex for his sake; even men of
unblamable characters, whom, at those times, I cannot but look upon as
persons I have not yet found out.

'If my dear creature's personal jewels be sent up to you for sale, I
desire that I may be the purchaser of them, at the highest price--of the
necklace and solitaire particularly.

'Oh! what tears did the perusal of my beloved's will cost me!--But I must
not touch upon the heart-piercing subject. I can neither take it up, nor
quit it, but with execration of the man whom all the world must
execrate.'

Mr. Belford, in his answer, promises that she shall be the purchaser of
the jewels, if they come into his hands.

He acquaints her that the family had given Colonel Morden the keys of all
that belonged to the dear departed; that the unhappy mother had (as the
will allows) ordered a piece of needlework to be set aside for her, and
had desired Mrs. Norton to get the little book of meditations
transcribed, and to let her have the original, as it was all of her dear
daughter's hand-writing; and as it might, when she could bear to look
into it, administer consolation to herself. And that she had likewise
reserved for herself her picture in the Vandyke taste.

Mr. Belford sends with this letter to Miss Howe the lady's memorandum
book, and promises to send her copies of the several posthumous letters.
He tells her that Mr. Lovelace being upon the recovery, he had enclosed
the posthumous letter directed for him to Lord M. that his Lordship might
give it to him, or not, as he should find he could bear it. The
following is a copy of that letter:

TO MR. LOVELACE
THURSDAY, AUG. 24.

I told you, in the letter I wrote to you on Tuesday last,* that you
should have another sent you when I had got into my father's house.

* See her letter, enclosed in Mr. Lovelace's, No. LIV. of Vol. VII.

The reader may observe, by the date of this letter, that it was written
within two days of the allegorical one, to which it refers, and while the
lady was labouring under the increased illness occasioned by the hurries
and terrors into which Mr. Lovelace had thrown her, in order to avoid the
visit he was so earnest to make her at Mr. Smith's; so early written,
perhaps, that she might not be surprised by death into a seeming breach
of her word.

High as her christian spirit soars in this letter, the reader has seen,
in Vol. VIII. Letter LXIV. and in other places, that that exalted spirit
carried her to still more divine elevations, as she drew nearer to her
end.

I presume to say, that I am now, at your receiving of this, arrived
there; and I invite you to follow me, as soon as you are prepared for so
great a journey.

Not to allegorize farther--my fate is now, at your perusal of this,
accomplished. My doom is unalterably fixed; and I am either a miserable
or happy being to all eternity. If happy, I owe it solely to the Divine
mercy; if miserable, to your undeserved cruelty.--And consider not, for
your own sake, gay, cruel, fluttering, unhappy man! consider, whether the
barbarous and perfidious treatment I have met with from you was worthy
the hazard of your immortal soul; since your wicked views were not to be
effected but by the wilful breach of the most solemn vows that ever were
made by man; and those aided by a violence and baseness unworthy of a
human creature.

In time then, once more, I wish you to consider your ways. Your golden
dream cannot long last. Your present course can yield you pleasure no
longer than you can keep off thought or reflection. A hardened
insensibility is the only foundation on which your inward tranquillity
is built. When once a dangerous sickness seizes you; when once effectual
remorse breaks in upon you; how dreadful will be your condition! How
poor a triumph will you then find it, to have been able, by a series of
black perjuries, and studied baseness, under the name of gallantry or
intrigue, to betray poor unexperienced young creatures, who perhaps knew
nothing but their duty till they knew you!--Not one good action in the
hour of languishing to recollect, not one worthy intention to revolve, it
will be all reproach and horror; and you will wish to have it in your
power to compound for annihilation.

Reflect, Sir, that I can have no other motive, in what I write, than your
good, and the safety of other innocent creatures, who may be drawn in by
your wicked arts and perjuries. You have not, in my wishes for future
welfare, the wishes of a suppliant wife, endeavouring for her own sake,
as well as for your's, to induce you to reform those ways. They are
wholly as disinterested as undeserved. But I should mistrust my own
penitence, were I capable of wishing to recompense evil for evil--if,
black as your offences have been against me, I could not forgive, as I
wish to be forgiven.

I repeat, therefore, that I do forgive you. And may the Almighty forgive
you too! Nor have I, at the writing of this, any other essential regrets
than what are occasioned by the grief I have given to parents, who, till
I knew you, were the most indulgent of parents; by the scandal given to
the other branches of my family; by the disreputation brought upon my
sex; and by the offence given to virtue in my fall.

As to myself, you have only robbed me of what once were my favourite
expectations in the transient life I shall have quitted when you receive
this. You have only been the cause that I have been cut off in the bloom
of youth, and of curtailing a life that might have been agreeable to
myself, or otherwise, as had reason to be thankful for being taken away
from the evil of supporting my part of a yoke with a man so unhappy; I
will only say, that, in all probability, every hour I had lived with him
might have brought with it some new trouble. And I am (indeed through
sharp afflictions and distresses) indebted to you, secondarily, as I
humbly presume to hope, for so many years of glory, as might have proved
years of danger, temptation, and anguish, had they been added to my
mortal life.

So, Sir, though no thanks to your intention, you have done me real
service; and, in return, I wish you happy. But such has been your life
hitherto, that you can have no time to lose in setting about your
repentance. Repentance to such as have lived only carelessly, and in the
omission of their regular duties, and who never aimed to draw any poor
creatures into evil, is not so easy a task, nor so much in our own power,
as some imagine. How difficult a grace then to be obtained, where the
guilt is premeditated, wilful, and complicated!

To say I once respected you with a preference, is what I ought to blush
to own, since, at the very time, I was far from thinking you even a
mortal man; though I little thought that you, or indeed any man
breathing, could be--what you have proved yourself to be. But, indeed,
Sir, I have long been greatly above you; for from my heart I have
despised you, and all your ways, ever since I saw what manner of man you
were.

Nor is it to be wondered that I should be able so to do, when that
preference was not grounded on ignoble motives. For I was weak enough,
and presumptuous enough, to hope to be a mean, in the hand of Providence,
to reclaim a man whom I thought worthy of the attempt.

Nor have I yet, as you will see by the pains I take, on this solemn
occasion, to awaken you out of your sensual dream, given over all hopes
of this nature.

Hear me, therefore, O Lovelace! as one speaking from the dead.--Lose no
time--set about your repentance instantly--be no longer the instrument of
Satan, to draw poor souls into those subtile snares, which at last shall
entangle your own feet. Seek not to multiply your offences till they
become beyond the power, as I may say, of the Divine mercy to forgive;
since justice, no less than mercy, is an attribute of the Almighty.

Tremble and reform, when you read what is the portion of the wicked man
from God. Thus it is written:

'The triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the hypocrite but
for a moment. He is cast into a net by his own feet--he walketh upon a
snare. Terrors shall make him afraid on every side, and shall drive him
to his feet. His strength shall be hunger-bitten, and destruction shall
be ready at his side. The first born of death shall devour his strength.
His remembrance shall perish from the earth; and he shall have no name in
the streets. He shall be chaced [sic] out of the world. He shall have
neither son nor nephew among his people. They that have seen him shall
say, Where is he? He shall fly away as a dream: He shall be chased away
as a vision of the night. His meat is the gall of asps within him. He
shall flee from the iron weapon, and the bow of steel shall strike him
through. A fire not blown shall consume him. The heaven shall reveal
his iniquity, and the earth shall rise up against him. The worm shall
feed sweetly on him. He shall be no more remembered.--This is the fate
of him that knoweth not God.'

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