Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

upbraided me, that from the time I had got her from her father’s house, I had a plain path before me.423 True did she say, and I triumphed in the discovery, that from that time I held her soul in suspense an hundred times.424 My ipecacuanha trial alone was enough to convince an infidel that she had a mind in which love and tenderness would have presided, had I permitted the charming buds to put forth and blow.425

She would have had no reserve, as once she told me, had I given her cause of doubt.426 And did she not own to thee, that once she could have loved me; and, could she have made me good, would have made me happy?427 O, Belford! here was love; a love of the noblest kind! A love, as she hints in her posthumous letter,428 that extended to the soul; and which she not only avowed in her dying hours, but contrived to let me know it after death, in that letter filled with warnings and exhortations, which had for their sole end my eternal welfare!

The cursed women, indeed, endeavoured to excite my vengeance, and my pride, by preaching to me eternally her doubts, her want of love, and her contempt of me. And my pride was, at times, too much excited by their vile insinuations. But had it even been as they said; well might she, who had been used to be courted and admired by every desiring eye, and worshipped by every respectful heart⁠—well might such a woman be allowed to draw back, when she found herself kept in suspense, as to the great question of all, by a designing and intriguing spirit; pretending awe and distance, as reasons for reining-in a fervour, which, if real, cannot be reined-in⁠—Divine creature! Her very doubts, her reserves, (so justly doubting), would have been my assurance, and my glory!⁠—And what other trial needed her virtue! What other needed a purity so angelic, (blessed with such a command in her passions in the bloom of youth), had I not been a villain⁠—and a wanton, a conceited, a proud fool, as well as a villain?

These reflections sharpened, rather than their edge by time abated, accompany me in whatever I do, and wherever I go; and mingle with all my diversions and amusements. And yet I go into gay and splendid company. I have made new acquaintance in the different courts I have visited. I am both esteemed and sought after, by persons of rank and merit. I visit the colleges, the churches, the palaces. I frequent the theatre: am present at every public exhibition; and see all that is worth seeing, that I had not see before, in the cabinets of the curious: am sometimes admitted to the toilette of an eminent toast, and make one with distinction at the assemblies of others⁠—yet can think of nothing, nor of anybody, with delight, but of my Clarissa. Nor have I seen one woman with advantage to herself, but as she resembles, in stature, air, complexion, voice, or in some feature, that charmer, that only charmer of my soul.

What greater punishment, than to have these astonishing perfections, which she was mistress of, strike my remembrance with such force, when I have nothing left me but the remorse of having deprived myself and the world of such a blessing? Now and then, indeed, am I capable of a gleam of comfort, arising (not ungenerously) from the moral certainty which I have of her everlasting happiness, in spite of all the machinations and devices which I set on foot to ensnare her virtue, and to bring down so pure a mind to my own level.

For can I be, at worst, (avert that worst,
O Thou Supreme, who only canst avert it!)
So much a wretch, so very far abandon’d,
But that I must, even in the horrid’s gloom,
Reap intervenient joy, at least some respite,
From pain and anguish, in her bliss.⁠—

If I find myself thus miserable abroad, I will soon return to England, and follow your example, I think⁠—turn hermit, or some plaguey thing or other, and see what a constant course of penitence and mortification will do for me. There is no living at this rate⁠—d⁠⸺⁠n me if there be!

If any mishap should befall me, you’ll have the particulars of it from De la Tour. He indeed knows but little English; but every modern tongue is yours. He is a trusty and ingenious fellow; and, if anything happen, will have some other papers, which I have already sealed up, for you to transmit to Lord M. And since thou art so expert and so ready at executorships, pr’ythee, Belford, accept of the office for me, as well as for my Clarissa⁠—Clarissa Lovelace let me call her.

By all that’s good, I am bewitched to her memory. Her very name, with mine joined to it, ravishes my soul, and is more delightful to me than the sweetest music.

Had I carried her (I must still recriminate) to any other place than that accursed woman’s⁠—for the potion was her invention and mixture; and all the persisted-in violence was at her instigation, and at that of her wretched daughters, who have now amply revenged upon me their own ruin, which they lay at my door⁠—

But this looks so like the confession of a thief at the gallows, that possibly thou wilt be apt to think I am intimidated in prospect of the approaching interview. But far otherwise. On the contrary, most cheerfully do I go to meet the Colonel; and I would tear my heart out of my breast with my own hands, were it capable of fear or concern on that account.

Thus much only I know, that if I should kill him, (which I will not do, if I can help it), I shall be far from being easy in my mind; that shall I never more be.