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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9) + +Author: Samuel Richardson + +Release Date: August 1, 2009 [EBook #9798] +Last Updated: January 25, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARISSA, VOLUME 2 (OF 9) *** + + + + +Produced by Julie C. Sparks, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <h4> + or the + </h4> + <h2> + HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Samuel Richardson + </h2> + <h4> + Nine Volumes <br /><br /> Volume II. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> SUMMARY OF THE LETTERS OF VOLUME II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> LETTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LETTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> LETTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LETTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> LETTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LETTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LETTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> LETTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> LETTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> LETTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> LETTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> LETTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> LETTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LETTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> LETTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> LETTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> LETTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> LETTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> LETTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> LETTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> LETTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> LETTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> LETTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> LETTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> LETTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> LETTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> LETTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> LETTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> LETTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> LETTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> LETTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> LETTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> LETTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> LETTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> LETTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LETTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> LETTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> LETTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> LETTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> LETTER XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> LETTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> LETTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> LETTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> LETTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> LETTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> LETTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> LETTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> LETTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + LETTERS OF VOLUME II + </h2> + <p> + LETTER I. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Another visit from her aunt and + sister. The latter spitefully insults her with the patterns. A tender + scene between her aunt and her in Arabella's absence. She endeavours to + account for the inflexibility of her parents and uncles. + </p> + <p> + LETTER II. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Humourous description of Mr. + Hickman. Imagines, from what Lovelace, Hickman, and Solmes, are now, what + figures they made when boys at school. + </p> + <p> + LETTER III. From the same.—Useful observations on general life. + Severe censures of the Harlowe family, for their pride, formality, and + other bad qualities. + </p> + <p> + LETTER IV. From the same.—Mr. Hickman's conversation with two of + Lovelace's libertine companions. + </p> + <p> + LETTER V. From the same.—An unexpected visit from Mr. Lovelace. What + passes in it. Repeats her advice to her to resume her estate. + </p> + <p> + LETTER VI. VII. VIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Farther particulars of + the persecutions she receives from her violent brother. + </p> + <p> + LETTER IX. From the same.—Impertinence of Betty Barnes. Overhears + her brother and sister encourage Solmes to persevere in his address. She + writes warmly to her brother upon it. + </p> + <p> + LETTER X. From the same.—Receives a provoking letter from her + sister. Writes to her mother. Her mother's severe reply. Is impatient. + Desires Miss Howe's advice what course to pursue. Tries to compose her + angry passions at her harpsichord. An Ode to Wisdom, by a Lady. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Chides her for misrepresenting Mr. + Hickman. Fully answers her arguments about resuming her estate. Her + impartiality with regard to what Miss Howe says of Lovelace, Solmes, and + her brother. Reflections on revenge and duelling. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XII. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Sir Harry Downeton's account of + what passed between himself and Solmes. She wishes her to avoid both men. + Admires her for her manifold excellencies. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Why she cannot overcome her + aversion to Solmes. Sharp letter to Lovelace. On what occasion. All his + difficulties, she tells him, owning to his faulty morals; which level all + distinction. Insists upon his laying aside all thoughts of her. Her + impartial and dutiful reasonings on her difficult situation. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XIV. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—A notable debate between her and + her mother on her case. Those who marry for love seldom so happy as those + who marry for convenience. Picture of a modern marriage. A lesson both to + parents and children in love-cases. Handsome men seldom make good + husbands. Miss Howe reflects on the Harlowe family, as not famous for + strictness in religion or piety. Her mother's partiality for Hickman. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XV. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Her increased apprehensions. + Warmly defends her own mother. Extenuates her father's feelings; and + expostulates with her on her undeserved treatment of Mr. Hickman. A letter + to her from Solmes. Her spirited answer. All in an uproar about it. Her + aunt Hervey's angry letter to her. She writes to her mother. Her letter + returned unopened. To her father. He tears her letter in pieces, and sends + it back to her. She then writes a pathetic letter to her uncle Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVI. From the same.—Receives a gentler answer than she + expected from her uncle Harlowe. Makes a new proposal in a letter to him, + which she thinks must be accepted. Her relations assembled upon it. Her + opinion of the sacrifice which a child ought to make to her parents. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVII. From the same.—She tells her that the proposal she had + made to her relations, on which she had built so much, is rejected. + Betty's saucy report upon it. Her brother's provoking letter to her. Her + letter to her uncle Harlowe on the occasion. Substance of a letter + excusatory from Mr. Lovelace. He presses for an interview with her in the + garden. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Her uncle's angry answer. + Substance of a humble letter from Mr. Lovelace. He has got a violent cold + and hoarseness, by his fruitless attendance all night in the coppice. She + is sorry he is not well. Makes a conditional appointment with him for the + next night, in the garden. Hates tyranny in all shapes. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XIX. From the same.—A characteristic dialogue with the pert + Betty Barnes. Women have great advantage over men in all the powers that + relate to the imagination. Makes a request to her uncle Harlowe, which is + granted, on condition that she will admit of a visit from Solmes. She + complies; and appoints that day sevennight. Then writes to Lovelace to + suspend the intended interview. Desires Miss Howe to inquire into + Lovelace's behaviour at the little inn he puts up at in his way to + Harlowe-Place. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XX. From the same.—Receives a letter from Lovelace, written + in very high terms, on her suspending the interview. Her angry answer. + Resolves against any farther correspondence with him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXI. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Humourous account of her mother + and Mr. Hickman in their little journey to visit her dying cousin. Rallies + her on her present displeasure with Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXII. Mr. Hickman to Mrs. Howe.—Resenting Miss Howe's + treatment of him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIII. Mrs. Howe. In answer. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIV. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Observes upon the contents of + her seven last letters. Advises her to send all the letters and papers she + would not have her relations see; also a parcel of clothes, linen, &c. + Is in hopes of procuring an asylum for her with her mother, if things come + to extremity. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXV. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Requisites of true satire. + Rejoices in the hopes she gives of her mother's protection. Deposits a + parcel of linen, and all Lovelace's letters. Useful observations relating + to family management, and to neatness of person and dress. Her + contrivances to amuse Betty Barnes. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVI. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Result of her inquiry after + Lovelace's behaviour at the inn. Doubts not but he has ruined the + innkeeper's daughter. Passionately inveighs against him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVII. Clarissa. In answer.—Is extremely alarmed at + Lovelace's supposed baseness. Declares her abhorrence of him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVIII. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Lovelace, on inquiry, comes + out to be not only innocent with regard to his Rosebud, but generous. Miss + Howe rallies her on the effects this intelligence must have upon her + generosity. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIX. Clarissa. In reply.—Acknowledges her generosity engaged + in his favour. Frankly expresses tenderness and regard for him; and owns + that the intelligence of his supposed baseness had affected her more than + she thinks it ought. Contents of a letter she has received from him. + Pities him. Writes to him that her rejection of Solmes is not in favour to + himself; for that she is determined to hold herself free to obey her + parents, (as she had offered to them,) of their giving up Solmes. + Reproaches him for his libertine declarations in all companies against + matrimony. Her notions of filial duty, notwithstanding the persecutions + she meets with. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXX. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Her treatment of Mr. Hickman on + his intrusion into her company. Applauds Clarissa for the generosity of + her spirit, and the greatness of her mind. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Dr. Lewen makes her a formal + visit. Affected civility of her brother and sister to her. Is visited by + her uncle Harlowe: and by her sister. She penetrates the low art designed + in this change of their outward behaviour. Substance of Lovelace's reply + to her last. He acknowledges his folly for having ever spoken lightly of + matrimony. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXII. From the same.—Another letter from Mr. Lovelace, in + which he expresses himself extremely apprehensive of the issue of her + interview with Solmes. Presses her to escape; proposes means for effecting + it; and threatens to rescue her by violence, if they attempt to carry her + to her uncle Antony's against her will. Her terror on the occasion. She + insists, in her answer, on his forbearing to take any rash step; and + expresses herself highly dissatisfied that he should think himself + entitled to dispute her father's authority in removing her to her uncle's. + She relies on Mrs. Howe's protection till her cousin Morden arrives. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—A visit from her aunt Hervey, + preparative to the approaching interview with Solmes. Her aunt tells her + what is expected on her having consented to that interview. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXIV. XXXV. From the same.—A particular account of what + passed in the interview with Solmes; and of the parts occasionally taken + in it by her boisterous uncle, by her brutal brother, by her implacable + sister, and by her qualifying aunt. Her perseverance and distress. Her + cousin Dolly's tenderness for her. Her closet searched for papers. All the + pens and ink they find taken from her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXVI. From the same.—Substance of a letter from Lovelace. + His proposals, promises, and declarations. All her present wish is, to be + able to escape Solmes, on one hand, and to avoid incurring the disgrace of + refuging with the family of a man at enmity with her own, on the other. + Her emotions behind the yew-hedge on seeing her father going into the + garden. Grieved at what she hears him say. Dutiful message to her mother. + Harshly answered. She censures Mr. Lovelace for his rash threatenings to + rescue her. Justifies her friends for resenting them; and condemns herself + for corresponding with him at first. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXVII. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Is vexed at the heart to be + obliged to tell her that her mother refuses to receive and protect her. + Offers to go away privately with her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXVIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Her disinterested arguments + in Mrs. Howe's favour, on her refusal to receive her. All her consolation + is, that her unhappy situation is not owing to her own inadvertence of + folly. Is afraid she is singled out, either for her own faults, or for + those of her family, or perhaps for the faults of both, to be a very + unhappy creature. Justifies the ways of Providence, let what will befal + her: and argues with exemplary greatness of mind on this subject. Warmly + discourages Miss Howe's motion to accompany her in her flight. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXIX. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Further instances of her + impartiality in condemning Lovelace, and reasoning for her parents. + Overhears her brother and sister exulting in the success of their schemes; + and undertaking, the one to keep his father up to his resentment on + occasion of Lovelace's menaces, the other her mother. Exasperated at this, + and at what her aunt Hervey tells her, she writes to Lovelace, that she + will meet him the following Monday, and throw herself into the protection + of the ladies of his family. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XL. From the same.—Her frightful dream. Now that Lovelace has + got her letter, she repents her appointment. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLI. From the same.—Receives a letter from Mr. Lovelace, full + of transport, vows, and promises. He presumes upon her being his on her + getting away, though she has not given him room for such hopes. In her + answer she tells him, 'that she looks not upon herself as absolutely bound + by her appointment: that there are many points to be adjusted between them + (were she to leave her father's house) before she can give him particular + encouragement: that he must expect she will do her utmost to procure a + reconciliation with her father, and his approbation of her future steps.' + All her friends are to be assembled on the following Wednesday: she is to + be brought before them. How to be proceeded with. Lovelace, in his reply, + asks pardon for writing to her with so much assurance; and declares his + entire acquiescence with her will and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLII. From the same.—Confirms her appointment; but tells him + what he is not to expect. Promises, that if she should change her mind as + to withdrawing, she will take the first opportunity to see him, and + acquaint him with her reasons. Reflections on what she has done. Her deep + regret to be thus driven. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLIII. Miss Howe to Clarissa.—Reasons why she ought to allow + her to accompany her in her flight. Punctilio at an end, the moment she is + out of her father's house. Requisites of friendship. Questions whether she + will not rather choose to go off with one of her own sex than with + Lovelace? And if not, whether she should not marry him as soon as + possible? + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLIV. Clarissa to Miss Howe, (Miss Howe's last not received.) + Lovelace promises compliance, in every article, with her pleasure. Her + heart misgives her notwithstanding. She knows not but she may yet recede. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLV. From the same. In answer to Letter XLIII.—Reflections + worthy of herself on some of the passages in Miss Howe's last letter. + Gives her home-put questions a full consideration; and determines NOT to + withdraw with Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLVI. XLVII. From the same.—Substance of her letter to + Lovelace, revoking her appointment. Thinks herself obliged (her letter + being not taken away) as well by promise as in order to prevent mischief, + to meet him, and to give him her reason for revoking.—The hour of + meeting now at hand, she is apprehensive of the contest she shall have + with him, as he will come with a different expectation. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLVIII. From the same.—Dated from St. Alban's. Writes in the + utmost anguish of mind for the little parcel of linen she had sent to her + with better hopes. Condemns her own rashness in meeting Lovelace. Begs her + pity and her prayers. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER I + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE + </h3> + <p> + My heart fluttered with the hope and the fear of seeing my mother, and + with the shame and grief of having given her so much uneasiness. But it + needed not: she was not permitted to come. But my aunt was so good as to + return, yet not without my sister; and, taking my hand, made me sit down + by her. + </p> + <p> + She came, she must own, officiously, she said, this once more, though + against the opinion of my father: but knowing and dreading the consequence + of my opposition, she could not but come. + </p> + <p> + She then set forth to my friends' expectation from me; Mr. Solmes's riches + (three times as rich he came out to be, as any body had thought him); the + settlements proposed; Mr. Lovelace's bad character; their aversions to + him; all in a very strong light; not in a stronger than my mother had + before placed them in. My mother, surely, could not have given the + particulars of what had passed between herself and me: if she had, my aunt + would not have repeated many of the same sentiments, as you will find she + did, that had been still more strongly urged, without effect by her + venerable sister. + </p> + <p> + She said it would break the heart of my father to have it imagined that he + had not a power over his own child; and that, as he thought, for my own + good: a child too, whom they had always doated upon!—Dearest, + dearest Miss, concluded she, clasping her fingers, with the most + condescending earnestness, let me beg of you, for my sake, for your own + sake, for a hundred sakes, to get over this averseness, to give up your + prejudices, and make every one happy and easy once more.—I would + kneel to you, my dearest Niece—nay, I will kneel to you—! + </p> + <p> + And down she dropt, and I with her, kneeling to her, and beseeching her + not to kneel; clasping my arms about her, and bathing her worthy bosom + with my tears. + </p> + <p> + O rise! rise! my beloved Aunt, said I: you cut me to the heart with this + condescending goodness. + </p> + <p> + Say then, my dearest Niece, say then, that you will oblige all your + friends!—If you love us, I beseech you do— + </p> + <p> + How can I perform what I can sooner choose to die than to perform—! + </p> + <p> + Say then, my dear, that you will consider of it. Say you will but reason + with yourself. Give us but hopes. Don't let me entreat, and thus entreat, + in vain—[for still she kneeled, and I by her]. + </p> + <p> + What a hard case is mine!—Could I but doubt, I know I could conquer.—That + which is an inducement to my friends, is none at all to me—How + often, my dearest Aunt, must I repeat the same thing?—Let me but be + single—Cannot I live single? Let me be sent, as I have proposed, to + Scotland, to Florence, any where: let me be sent a slave to the Indies, + any where—any of these I will consent to. But I cannot, cannot think + of giving my vows to man I cannot endure! + </p> + <p> + Well then, rising, (Bella silently, with uplifted hands, reproaching my + supposed perverseness,) I see nothing can prevail with you to oblige us. + </p> + <p> + What can I do, my dearest Aunt Hervey? What can I do? Were I capable of + giving a hope I meant not to enlarge, then could I say, I would consider + of your kind advice. But I would rather be thought perverse than + insincere. Is there, however, no medium? Can nothing be thought of? Will + nothing do, but to have a man who is the more disgustful to me, because he + is unjust in the very articles he offers? + </p> + <p> + Whom now, Clary, said my sister, do you reflect upon? Consider that. + </p> + <p> + Make not invidious applications of what I say, Bella. It may not be looked + upon in the same light by every one. The giver and the accepter are + principally answerable in an unjust donation. While I think of it in this + light, I should be inexcusable to be the latter. But why do I enter upon a + supposition of this nature?—My heart, as I have often, often said, + recoils, at the thought of the man, in every light.—Whose father, + but mine, agrees upon articles where there is no prospect of a liking? + Where the direct contrary is avowed, all along avowed, without the least + variation, or shadow of a change of sentiment?—But it is not my + father's doing originally. O my cruel, cruel brother, to cause a measure + to be forced upon me, which he would not behave tolerably under, were the + like to be offered to him! + </p> + <p> + The girl is got into her altitudes, Aunt Hervey, said my sister. You see, + Madam, she spares nobody. Be pleased to let her know what she has to trust + to. Nothing is to be done with her. Pray, Madam, pronounce her doom. + </p> + <p> + My aunt retired to the window, weeping, with my sister in her hand: I + cannot, indeed I cannot, Miss Harlowe, said she, softly, (but yet I heard + every word she said): there is great hardship in her case. She is a noble + child after all. What pity things are gone so far!—But Mr. Solmes + ought to be told to desist. + </p> + <p> + O Madam, said my sister, in a kind of loud whisper, are you caught too by + the little siren?—My mother did well not to come up!—I + question whether my father himself, after his first indignation, would not + be turned round by her. Nobody but my brother can do any thing with her, I + am sure. + </p> + <p> + Don't think of your brother's coming up, said my aunt, still in a low + voice—He is too furious. I see no obstinacy, no perverseness, in her + manner! If your brother comes, I will not be answerable for the + consequences: for I thought twice or thrice she would have gone into fits. + </p> + <p> + O Madam, she has a strong heart!—And you see there is no prevailing + with her, though you were upon your knees to her. + </p> + <p> + My sister left my aunt musing at the window, with her back towards us, and + took that opportunity to insult me still more barbarously; for, stepping + to my closet, she took up the patterns which my mother had sent me up, and + bringing them to me, she spread them upon the chair by me; and offering + one, and then another, upon her sleeve and shoulder, thus she ran on, with + great seeming tranquility, but whisperingly, that my aunt might not hear + her. This, Clary, is a pretty pattern enough: but this is quite charming! + I would advise you to make your appearance in it. And this, were I you, + should be my wedding night-gown—And this my second dressed suit! + Won't you give orders, love, to have your grandmother's jewels new set?—Or + will you thing to shew away in the new ones Mr. Solmes intends to present + to you? He talks of laying out two or three thousand pounds in presents, + child! Dear heart!—How gorgeously will you be array'd! What! silent + still?—But, Clary, won't you have a velvet suit? It would cut a + great figure in a country church, you know: and the weather may bear it + for a month yet to come. Crimson velvet, suppose! Such a fine complexion + as yours, how it would be set off by it! What an agreeable blush would it + give you!—Heigh-ho! (mocking me, for I sighed to be thus fooled + with,) and do you sigh, love?—Well then, as it will be a solemn + wedding, what think you of black velvet, child?—Silent still, Clary?—Black + velvet, so fair as you are, with those charming eyes, gleaming through a + wintry cloud, like an April sun!—Does not Lovelace tell you they are + charming eyes?—How lovely will you appear to every one!—What! + silent still, love?—But about your laces, Clary?— + </p> + <p> + She would have gone on still further, had not my aunt advance towards me, + wiping her eyes—What! whispering ladies! You seem so easy and so + pleased, Miss Harlowe, with your private conference, that I hope I shall + carry down good news. + </p> + <p> + I am only giving her my opinion of her patterns, here.—Unasked + indeed; but she seems, by her silence, to approve of my judgment. + </p> + <p> + O Bella! said I, that Mr. Lovelace had not taken you at your word!—You + had before now been exercising your judgment on your own account: and I + had been happy as well as you! Was it my fault, I pray you, that it was + not so?— + </p> + <p> + O how she raved! + </p> + <p> + To be so ready to give, Bella, and so loth to take, is not very fair in + you. + </p> + <p> + The poor Bella descended to call names. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sister, said I, you are as angry, as if there were more in the hint + than possibly might be designed. My wish is sincere, for both our sakes!—for + the whole family's sake!—And what (good now) is there in it?—Do + not, do not, dear Bella, give me cause to suspect, that I have found a + reason for your behaviour to me, and which till now was wholly + unaccountable from sister to sister— + </p> + <p> + Fie, fie, Clary! said my aunt. + </p> + <p> + My sister was more and more outrageous. + </p> + <p> + O how much fitter, said I, to be a jest, than a jester!—But now, + Bella, turn the glass to you, and see how poorly sits the robe upon your + own shoulders, which you have been so unmercifully fixing upon mine! + </p> + <p> + Fie, fie, Miss Clary! repeated my aunt. + </p> + <p> + And fie, fie, likewise, good Madam, to Miss Harlowe, you would say, were + you to have heard her barbarous insults! + </p> + <p> + Let us go, Madam, said my sister, with great violence; let us leave the + creature to swell till she bursts with her own poison.—The last time + I will ever come near her, in the mind I am in! + </p> + <p> + It is so easy a thing, returned I, were I to be mean enough to follow an + example that is so censurable in the setter of it, to vanquish such a + teasing spirit as your's with its own blunt weapons, that I am amazed you + will provoke me!—Yet, Bella, since you will go, (for she had hurried + to the door,) forgive me. I forgive you. And you have a double reason to + do so, both from eldership and from the offence so studiously given to one + in affliction. But may you be happy, though I never shall! May you never + have half the trials I have had! Be this your comfort, that you cannot + have a sister to treat you as you have treated me!—And so God bless + you! + </p> + <p> + O thou art a—And down she flung without saying what. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, Madam, said I to my aunt, sinking down, and clasping her knees + with my arms, to detain you one moment—not to say any thing about my + poor sister—she is her own punisher—only to thank you for all + your condescending goodness to me. I only beg of you not to impute to + obstinacy the immovableness I have shown to so tender a friend; and to + forgive me every thing I have said or done amiss in your presence, for it + has not proceeded from inward rancour to the poor Bella. But I will be + bold to say, that neither she, nor my brother, nor even my father himself, + knows what a heart they have set a bleeding. + </p> + <p> + I saw, to my comfort, what effect my sister's absence wrought for me.—Rise, + my noble-minded Niece!—Charming creature! [those were her kind + words] kneel not to me!—Keep to yourself what I now say to you.—I + admire you more than I can express—and if you can forbear claiming + your estate, and can resolve to avoid Lovelace, you will continue to be + the greatest miracle I ever knew at your years—but I must hasten + down after your sister.—These are my last words to you: 'Conform to + your father's will, if you possibly can. How meritorious will it be in you + if you do so! Pray to God to enable you to conform. You don't know what + may be done.' + </p> + <p> + Only, my dear Aunt, one word, one word more (for she was going)—Speak + all you can for my dear Mrs. Norton. She is but low in the world: should + ill health overtake her, she may not know how to live without my mamma's + favour. I shall have no means to help her; for I will want necessaries + before I will assert my right: and I do assure you, she has said so many + things to me in behalf of my submitting to my father's will, that her + arguments have not a little contributed to make me resolve to avoid the + extremities, which nevertheless I pray to God they do not at last force me + upon. And yet they deprive me of her advice, and think unjustly of one of + the most excellent of women. + </p> + <p> + I am glad to hear you say this: and take this, and this, and this, my + charming Niece! (for so she called me almost at every word, kissing me + earnestly, and clasping her arms about my neck:) and God protect you, and + direct you! But you must submit: indeed you must. Some one day in a month + from this is all the choice that is left you. + </p> + <p> + And this, I suppose, was the doom my sister called for; and yet no worse + than what had been pronounced upon me before. + </p> + <p> + She repeated these last sentences louder than the former. 'And remember, + Miss,' added she, 'it is your duty to comply.'—And down she went, + leaving me with my heart full, and my eyes running over. + </p> + <p> + The very repetition of this fills me with almost equal concern to that + which I felt at the time. + </p> + <p> + I must lay down my pen. Mistiness, which give to the deluged eye the + appearance of all the colours in the rainbow, will not permit me to write + on. + </p> + <p> + WEDNESDAY, FIVE O'CLOCK + </p> + <p> + I will now add a few lines—My aunt, as she went down from me, was + met at the foot of the stairs by my sister, who seemed to think she had + staid a good while after her; and hearing her last words prescribing to me + implicit duty, praised her for it, and exclaimed against my obstinacy. Did + you ever hear of such perverseness, Madam? said she: Could you have + thought that your Clarissa and every body's Clarissa, was such a girl?—And + who, as you said, is to submit, her father or she? + </p> + <p> + My aunt said something in answer to her, compassionating me, as I thought, + by her accent: but I heard not the words. + </p> + <p> + Such a strange perseverance in a measure so unreasonable!—But my + brother and sister are continually misrepresenting all I say and do; and I + am deprived of the opportunity of defending myself!—My sister says,* + that had they thought me such a championess, they you not have engaged + with me: and now, not knowing how to reconcile my supposed obstinacy with + my general character and natural temper, they seem to hope to tire me out, + and resolve to vary their measures accordingly. My brother, you see,** is + determined to carry this point, or to abandon Harlowe-place, and never to + see it more. So they are to lose a son, or to conquer a daughter—the + perversest and most ungrateful that ever parents had!—This is the + light he places things in: and has undertaken, it seems, to subdue me, if + his advice should be followed. It will be farther tried; of that I am + convinced; and what will be their next measure, who can divine? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + * See Letter XLII. of Vol. I. + + ** Ibid. +</pre> + <p> + I shall dispatch, with this, my answer to your's of Sunday last, begun on + Monday;* but which is not yet quite finished. It is too long to copy: I + have not time for it. In it I have been very free with you, my dear, in + more places than one. I cannot say that I am pleased with all I have + written—yet will not now alter it. My mind is not at ease enough for + the subject. Don't be angry with me. Yet, if you can excuse one or two + passages, it will be because they were written by + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Letter XL, ibid. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER II + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WEDNESDAY NIGHT, MARCH 22. + </h3> + <p> + ANGRY!—What should I be angry for? I am mightily pleased with your + freedom, as you call it. I only wonder at your patience with me; that's + all. I am sorry I gave you the trouble of so long a letter upon the + occasion,* notwithstanding the pleasure I received in reading it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Vol. I, Letter XXXVII, for the occasion; and Letters + XXXVIII. and XL. of the same volume, for the freedom + Clarissa apologizes for. +</pre> + <p> + I believe you did not intend reserves to me: for two reasons I believe you + did not: First, because you say you did not: Next, because you have not as + yet been able to convince yourself how it is to be with you; and + persecuted as you are, how so to separate the effects that spring from the + two causes [persecution and love] as to give to each its particular due. + But this I believe I hinted to you once before; and so will say no more + upon this subject at present. + </p> + <p> + Robin says, you had but just deposited your last parcel when he took it: + for he was there but half an hour before, and found nothing. He had seen + my impatience, and loitered about, being willing to bring me something + from you, if possible. + </p> + <p> + My cousin Jenny Fynnett is here, and desires to be my bedfellow to-night. + So I shall not have an opportunity to sit down with that seriousness and + attention which the subjects of yours require. For she is all prate, you + know, and loves to set me a prating; yet comes upon a very grave occasion—to + procure my mother to go with her to her grandmother Larking, who has long + been bed-ridden; and at last has taken it into her head that she is + mortal, and therefore will make her will; a work she was till now + extremely averse to; but it must be upon condition that my mother, who is + her distant relation, will go to her, and advise her as to the particulars + of it: for she has a high opinion, as every one else has, of my mother's + judgment in all matters relating to wills, settlements, and such-like + notable affairs. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Larking lives about seventeen miles off; and as my mother cannot + endure to lie out of her own house, she proposes to set out early in the + morning, that she might be able to get back again at night. So, to-morrow + I shall be at your devotion from day-light to day-light; nor will I be at + home to any body. + </p> + <p> + I have hinted before, that I could almost wish my mother and Mr. Hickman + would make a match of it: and I here repeat my wishes. What signifies a + difference of fifteen or twenty years; especially when the lady has + spirits that will make her young a long time, and the lover is a mighty + sober man?—I think, verily, I could like him better for a papa, than + for a nearer relation: and they are strange admirers of one another. + </p> + <p> + But allow me a perhaps still better (and, as to years, more suitable and + happier) disposal; for the man at least.—What think you, my dear, of + compromising with your friends, by rejecting both men, and encouraging my + parader?—If your liking one of the two go no farther than + conditional, I believe it will do. A rich thought, if it obtain your + approbation! In this light, I should have a prodigious respect for Mr. + Hickman; more by half than I can have in the other. The vein is opened—Shall + I let it flow? How difficult to withstand constitutional foibles! + </p> + <p> + Hickman is certainly a man more in your taste than any of those who have + hitherto been brought to address you. He is mighty sober, mighty grave, + and all that. Then you have told me, that he is your favourite. But that + is because he is my mother's perhaps. The man would certainly rejoice at + the transfer; or he must be a greater fool than I take him to be. + </p> + <p> + O but your fierce lover would knock him o' the head—I forgot that!—What + makes me incapable of seriousness when I write about Hickman?—Yet + the man so good a sort of man in the main!—But who is perfect? This + is one of my foibles: and it is something for you to chide me for. + </p> + <p> + You believe me to be very happy in my prospect in relation to him: because + you are so very unhappy in the foolish usage you meet with, you are apt + (as I suspect) to think that tolerable which otherwise would be far from + being so. I dare say, you would not, with all your grave airs, like him + for yourself; except, being addressed by Solmes and him, you were obliged + to have one of them.—I have given you a test. Let me see what you + will say to it. + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I confess to you, that I have great exceptions to + Hickman. He and wedlock never yet once entered into my head at one time. + Shall I give you my free thoughts of him?—Of his best and his worst; + and that as if I were writing to one who knows him not?—I think I + will. Yet it is impossible I should do it gravely. The subject won't bear + to be so treated in my opinion. We are not come so far as that yet, if + ever we shall: and to do it in another strain, ill becomes my present real + concern for you. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Here I was interrupted on the honest man's account. He has been here these + two hours—courting the mother for the daughter, I suppose—yet + she wants no courting neither: 'Tis well one of us does; else the man + would have nothing but halcyon; and be remiss, and saucy of course. + </p> + <p> + He was going. His horses at the door. My mother sent for me down, + pretending to want to say something to me. + </p> + <p> + Something she said when I came that signified nothing—Evidently, for + no reason called me, but to give me an opportunity to see what a fine bow + her man could make; and that she might wish me a good night. She knows I + am not over ready to oblige him with my company, if I happen to be + otherwise engaged. I could not help an air a little upon the fretful, when + I found she had nothing of moment to say to me, and when I saw her + intention. + </p> + <p> + She smiled off the visible fretfulness, that the man might go away in good + humour with himself. + </p> + <p> + He bowed to the ground, and would have taken my hand, his whip in the + other. I did not like to be so companioned: I withdrew my hand, but + touched his elbow with a motion, as if from his low bow I had supposed him + falling, and would have helped him up—A sad slip, it might have + been! said I. + </p> + <p> + A mad girl! smiled it off my mother. + </p> + <p> + He was quite put out; took his horse-bridle, stumped back, back, back, + bowing, till he run against his servant. I laughed. He mounted his horse. + I mounted up stairs, after a little lecture; and my head is so filled with + him, that I must resume my intention, in hopes to divert you for a few + moments. + </p> + <p> + Take it then—his best, and his worst, as I said before. + </p> + <p> + Hickman is a sort of fiddling, busy, yet, to borrow a word from you, + unbusy man: has a great deal to do, and seems to me to dispatch nothing. + Irresolute and changeable in every thing, but in teasing me with his + nonsense; which yet, it is evident, he must continue upon my mother's + interest more than upon his own hopes; for none have I given him. + </p> + <p> + Then I have a quarrel against his face, though in his person, for a + well-thriven man, tolerably genteel—Not to his features so much + neither; for what, as you have often observed, are features in a man?—But + Hickman, with strong lines, and big cheek and chin bones, has not the + manliness in his aspect, which Lovelace has with the most regular and + agreeable features. + </p> + <p> + Then what a set and formal mortal he is in some things!—I have not + been able yet to laugh him out of his long bid and beads. Indeed, that is, + because my mother thinks they become him; and I would not be so free with + him, as to own I should choose to have him leave it off. If he did, so + particular is the man, he would certainly, if left to himself, fall into a + King-William's cravat, or some such antique chin-cushion, as by the + pictures of that prince one sees was then the fashion. + </p> + <p> + As to his dress in general, he cannot indeed be called a sloven, but + sometimes he is too gaudy, at other times too plain, to be uniformly + elegant. And for his manners, he makes such a bustle with them, and about + them, as would induce one to suspect that they are more strangers than + familiars to him. You, I know, lay this to his fearfulness of disobliging + or offending. Indeed your over-doers generally give the offence they + endeavour to avoid. + </p> + <p> + The man however is honest: is of family: has a clear and good estate; and + may one day be a baronet, an't please you. He is humane and benevolent, + tolerably generous, as people say; and as I might say too, if I would + accept of his bribes; which he offers in hopes of having them all back + again, and the bribed into the bargain. A method taken by all corrupters, + from old Satan, to the lowest of his servants. Yet, to speak in the + language of a person I am bound to honour, he is deemed a prudent man; + that is to say a good manager. + </p> + <p> + Then I cannot but confess, that now I like not anybody better, whatever I + did once. + </p> + <p> + He is no fox-hunter: he keeps a pack indeed; but prefers not his hounds to + his fellow-creatures. No bad sign for a wife, I own. He loves his horse; + but dislikes racing in a gaming way, as well as all sorts of gaming. Then + he is sober; modest; they say, virtuous; in short, has qualities that + mothers would be fond of in a husband for their daughters; and for which + perhaps their daughters would be the happier could they judge as well for + themselves, as experience possibly may teach them to judge for their + future daughters. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, to own the truth, I cannot say I love the man: nor, I + believe, ever shall. + </p> + <p> + Strange! that these sober fellows cannot have a decent sprightliness, a + modest assurance with them! Something debonnaire; which need not be + separated from that awe and reverence, when they address a woman, which + should shew the ardour of their passion, rather than the sheepishness of + their nature; for who knows not that love delights in taming the + lion-hearted? That those of the sex, who are most conscious of their own + defect in point of courage, naturally require, and therefore as naturally + prefer, the man who has most of it, as the most able to give them the + requisite protection? That the greater their own cowardice, as it would be + called in a man, the greater is their delight in subjects of heroism? As + may be observed in their reading; which turns upon difficulties + encountered, battles fought, and enemies overcome, four or five hundred by + the prowess of one single hero, the more improbable the better: in short, + that their man should be a hero to every one living but themselves; and to + them know no bound to his humility. A woman has some glory in subduing a + heart no man living can appall; and hence too often the bravo, assuming + the hero, and making himself pass for one, succeeds as only a hero should. + </p> + <p> + But as for honest Hickman, the good man is so generally meek, as I + imagine, that I know not whether I have any preference paid me in his + obsequiousness. And then, when I rate him, he seems to be so naturally + fitted for rebuke, and so much expects it, that I know not how to + disappoint him, whether he just then deserve it, or not. I am sure, he has + puzzled me many a time when I have seen him look penitent for faults he + has not committed, whether to pity or laugh at him. + </p> + <p> + You and I have often retrospected the faces and minds of grown people; + that is to say, have formed images for their present appearances, outside + and in, (as far as the manners of the persons would justify us in the + latter) what sort of figures they made when boys and girls. And I'll tell + you the lights in which HICKMAN, SOLMES, and LOVELACE, our three heroes, + have appeared to me, supposing them boys at school. + </p> + <p> + Solmes I have imagined to be a little sordid, pilfering rogue, who would + purloin from every body, and beg every body's bread and butter from him; + while, as I have heard a reptile brag, he would in a winter-morning spit + upon his thumbs, and spread his own with it, that he might keep it all to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Hickman, a great overgrown, lank-haired, chubby boy, who would be hunched + and punched by every body; and go home with his finger in his eye, and + tell his mother. + </p> + <p> + While Lovelace I have supposed a curl-pated villain, full of fire, fancy, + and mischief; an orchard-robber, a wall-climber, a horse-rider without + saddle or bridle, neck or nothing: a sturdy rogue, in short, who would + kick and cuff, and do no right, and take no wrong of any body; would get + his head broke, then a plaster for it, or let it heal of itself; while he + went on to do more mischief, and if not to get, to deserve, broken bones. + And the same dispositions have grown up with them, and distinguish them as + me, with no very material alteration. + </p> + <p> + Only that all men are monkeys more or less, or else that you and I should + have such baboons as these to choose out of, is a mortifying thing, my + dear. + </p> + <p> + I am sensible that I am a little out of season in treating thus + ludicrously the subject I am upon, while you are so unhappy; and if my + manner does not divert you, as my flightiness used to do, I am inexcusable + both to you, and to my own heart: which, I do assure you, notwithstanding + my seeming levity, is wholly in your case. + </p> + <p> + As this letter is extremely whimsical, I will not send it until I can + accompany it with something more solid and better suited to your unhappy + circumstances; that is to say, to the present subject of our + correspondence. To-morrow, as I told you, will be wholly my own, and of + consequence yours. Adieu, therefore, till then. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER III + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TUESDAY MORN. 7 O'CLOCK + </h3> + <p> + My mother and cousin are already gone off in our chariot and four, + attended by their doughty 'squire on horseback, and he by two of his own + servants, and one of my mother's. They both love parade when they go + abroad, at least in compliment to one another; which shews, that each + thinks the other does. Robin is your servant and mine, and nobody's else—and + the day is all my own. + </p> + <p> + I must begin with blaming you, my dear, for your resolution not to + litigate for your right, if occasion were to be given you. Justice is due + to ourselves, as well as to every body else. Still more must I blame you + for declaring to your aunt and sister, that you will not: since (as they + will tell it to your father and brother) the declaration must needs give + advantage to spirits who have so little of that generosity for which you + are so much distinguished. + </p> + <p> + There never was a spirit in the world that would insult where it dared, + but it would creep and cringe where it dared not. Let me remind you of a + sentence of your own, the occasion for which I have forgotten: 'That + little spirits will always accommodate themselves to the temper of those + they would work upon: will fawn upon a sturdy-tempered person: will insult + the meek:'—And another given to Miss Biddulph, upon an occasion you + cannot forget:—'If we assume a dignity in what we say and do, and + take care not to disgrace by arrogance our own assumption, every body will + treat us with respect and deference.' + </p> + <p> + I remember that you once made an observation, which you said, you was + obliged to Mrs. Norton for, and she to her father, upon an excellent + preacher, who was but an indifferent liver: 'That to excel in theory, and + to excel in practice, generally required different talents; which did not + always meet in the same person.' Do you, my dear (to whom theory and + practice are the same thing in almost every laudable quality), apply the + observation to yourself, in this particular case, where resolution is + required; and where the performance of the will of the defunct is the + question—no more to be dispensed with by you, in whose favour it was + made, than by any body else who have only themselves in view by breaking + through it. + </p> + <p> + I know how much you despise riches in the main: but yet it behoves you to + remember, that in one instance you yourself have judged them valuable—'In + that they put it into our power to lay obligations; while the want of that + power puts a person under a necessity of receiving favours—receiving + them perhaps from grudging and narrow spirits, who know not how to confer + them with that grace, which gives the principal merit to a beneficent + action.'—Reflect upon this, my dear, and see how it agrees with the + declaration you have made to your aunt and sister, that you would not + resume your estate, were you to be turned out of doors, and reduced to + indigence and want. Their very fears that you will resume, point out to + you the necessity of resuming upon the treatment you meet with. + </p> + <p> + I own, that (at first reading) I was much affected with your mother's + letter sent with the patterns. A strange measure however from a mother; + for she did not intend to insult you; and I cannot but lament that so + sensible and so fine a woman should stoop to so much art as that letter is + written with: and which also appears in some of the conversations you have + given me an account of. See you not in her passiveness, what boisterous + spirits can obtain from gentler, merely by teasing and ill-nature? + </p> + <p> + I know the pride they have always taken in calling you a Harlowe—Clarissa + Harlowe, so formal and so set, at every word, when they are grave or + proudly solemn.—Your mother has learnt it of them—and as in + marriage, so in will, has been taught to bury her own superior name and + family in theirs. I have often thought that the same spirit governed them, + in this piece of affectation, and others of the like nature (as + Harlowe-Place, and so-forth, though not the elder brother's or paternal + seat), as governed the tyrant Tudor,* who marrying Elizabeth, the heiress + of the house of York, made himself a title to a throne, which he would not + otherwise have had (being but a base descendant of the Lancaster line); + and proved a gloomy and vile husband to her; for no other cause, than + because she had laid him under obligations which his pride would not + permit him to own.—Nor would the unprincely wretch marry her till he + was in possession of the crown, that he might not be supposed to owe it to + her claim. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Henry VII. +</pre> + <p> + You have chidden me, and again will, I doubt not, for the liberties I take + with some of your relations. But my dear, need I tell you, that pride in + ourselves must, and for ever will, provoke contempt, and bring down upon + us abasement from others?—Have we not, in the case of a celebrated + bard, observed, that those who aim at more than their due, will be refused + the honours they may justly claim?—I am very much loth to offend + you; yet I cannot help speaking of your relations, as well as of others, + as I think they deserve. Praise or dispraise, is the reward or punishment + which the world confers or inflicts on merit or demerit; and, for my part, + I neither can nor will confound them in the application. I despise them + all, but your mother: indeed I do: and as for her—but I will spare + the good lady for your sake—and one argument, indeed, I think may be + pleaded in her favour, in the present contention—she who has for so + many years, and with such absolute resignation, borne what she has borne + to the sacrifice of her own will, may think it an easier task than another + person can imagine it, for her daughter to give up hers. But to think to + whose instigation all this is originally owing—God forgive me; but + with such usage I should have been with Lovelace before now! Yet remember, + my dear, that the step which would not be wondered at from such a + hasty-tempered creatures as me, would be inexcusable in such a considerate + person as you. + </p> + <p> + After your mother has been thus drawn in against her judgment, I am the + less surprised, that your aunt Hervey should go along with her; since the + two sisters never separate. I have inquired into the nature of the + obligation which Mr. Hervey's indifferent conduct in his affairs has laid + him under—it is only, it seems, that your brother has paid off for + him a mortgage upon one part of his estate, which the mortgagee was about + to foreclose; and taken it upon himself. A small favour (as he has ample + security in his hands) from kindred to kindred: but such a one, it is + plain, as has laid the whole family of the Herveys under obligation to the + ungenerous lender, who has treated him, and his aunt too (as Miss Dolly + Hervey has privately complained), with the less ceremony ever since. + </p> + <p> + Must I, my dear, call such a creature your brother?—I believe I must—Because + he is your father's son. There is no harm, I hope, in saying that. + </p> + <p> + I am concerned, that you ever wrote at all to him. It was taking too much + notice of him: it was adding to his self-significance; and a call upon him + to treat you with insolence. A call which you might have been assured he + would not fail to answer. + </p> + <p> + But such a pretty master as this, to run riot against such a man as + Lovelace; who had taught him to put his sword into his scabbard, when he + had pulled it out by accident!—These in-door insolents, who, turning + themselves into bugbears, frighten women, children, and servants, are + generally cravens among men. Were he to come fairly across me, and say to + my face some of the free things which I am told he has said of me behind + my back, or that (as by your account) he has said of our sex, I would take + upon myself to ask him two or three questions; although he were to send me + a challenge likewise. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, you know that I will speak my mind, and write it too. He is not + my brother. Can you say, he is yours?—So, for your life, if you are + just, you can't be angry with me: For would you side with a false brother + against a true friend? A brother may not be a friend: but a friend will + always be a brother—mind that, as your uncle Tony says! + </p> + <p> + I cannot descend so low, as to take very particular notice of the epistles + of these poor souls, whom you call uncles. Yet I love to divert myself + with such grotesque characters too. But I know them and love you; and so + cannot make the jest of them which their absurdities call for. + </p> + <p> + You chide me, my dear,* for my freedoms with relations still nearer and + dearer to you, than either uncles or brother or sister. You had better + have permitted me (uncorrected) to have taken my own way. Do not use those + freedoms naturally arise from the subject before us? And from whom arises + that subject, I pray you? Can you for one quarter of an hour put yourself + in my place, or in the place of those who are still more indifferent to + the case than I can be?—If you can—But although I have you not + often at advantage, I will not push you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Vol. I. Letter XXVIII. +</pre> + <p> + Permit me, however, to subjoin, that well may your father love your + mother, as you say he does. A wife who has no will but his! But were there + not, think you, some struggles between them at first, gout out of the + question?—Your mother, when a maiden, had, as I have heard (and it + is very likely) a good share of those lively spirits which she liked in + your father. She has none of them now. How came they to be dissipated?—Ah! + my dear!—she has been too long resident in Trophonius's cave, I + doubt.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Spectator, Vol. VIII. No. 599. +</pre> + <p> + Let me add one reflection upon this subject, and so entitle myself to your + correction for all at once.—It is upon the conduct of those wives + (for you and I know more than one such) who can suffer themselves to be + out-blustered and out-gloomed of their own wills, instead of being fooled + out of them by acts of tenderness and complaisance.—I wish, that it + does not demonstrate too evidently, that, with some of the sex, insolent + controul is a more efficacious subduer than kindness or concession. Upon + my life, my dear, I have often thought, that many of us are mere babies in + matrimony: perverse fools when too much indulged and humoured; creeping + slaves, when treated harshly. But shall it be said, that fear makes us + more gentle obligers than love?—Forbid it, Honour! Forbid it, + Gratitude! Forbid it, Justice! that any woman of sense should give + occasion to have this said of her! + </p> + <p> + Did I think you would have any manner of doubt, from the style or contents + of this letter, whose saucy pen it is that has run on at this rate, I + would write my name at length; since it comes too much from my heart to + disavow it: but at present the initials shall serve; and I will go on + again directly. + </p> + <p> + A.H. <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORN. 10 O'CLOCK (MAR. 23). + </h3> + <p> + I will postpone, or perhaps pass by, several observations which I had to + make on other parts of your letters; to acquaint you, that Mr. Hickman, + when in London, found an opportunity to inquire after Mr. Lovelace's town + life and conversation. + </p> + <p> + At the Cocoa-tree, in Pall-mall, he fell in with two of his intimates, the + one named Belton, the other Mowbray; both very free of speech, and + probably as free in their lives: but the waiters paid them great respect, + and on Mr. Hickman's inquiry after their characters, called them men of + fortune and honour. + </p> + <p> + They began to talk of Mr. Lovelace of their own accord; and upon some + gentlemen in the room asking, when they expected him in town, answered, + that very day. Mr. Hickman (as they both went on praising Lovelace) said, + he had indeed heard, that Mr. Lovelace was a very fine gentleman—and + was proceeding, when one of them, interrupting him, said,—Only, Sir, + the finest gentleman in the world; that's all. + </p> + <p> + And so he led them on to expatiate more particularly on his qualities; + which they were very fond of doing: but said not one single word in behalf + of his morals—Mind that also, in your uncle's style. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman said, that Mr. Lovelace was very happy, as he understood, in + the esteem of the ladies; and smiling, to make them believe he did not + think amiss of it, that he pushed his good fortune as far as it would go. + </p> + <p> + Well put, Mr. Hickman! thought I; equally grave and sage—thou + seemest not to be a stranger to their dialect, as I suppose this is. But I + said nothing; for I have often tried to find out this might sober man of + my mother's: but hitherto have only to say, that he is either very moral, + or very cunning. + </p> + <p> + No doubt of it, replied one of them; and out came an oath, with a Who + would not?—That he did as every young fellow would do. + </p> + <p> + Very true! said my mother's puritan—but I hear he is in treaty with + a fine lady— + </p> + <p> + So he was, Mr. Belton said—The devil fetch her! [vile brute!] for + she engrossed all his time—but that the lady's family ought to be—something—[Mr. + Hickman desired to be excused repeating what—though he had repeated + what was worse] and might dearly repent their usage of a man of his family + and merit. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps they may think him too wild, cries Hickman: and theirs is, I hear, + a very sober family— + </p> + <p> + SOBER! said one of them: A good honest word, Dick!—Where the devil + has it lain all this time?—D—— me if I have heard of it + in this sense ever since I was at college! and then, said he, we bandied + it about among twenty of us as an obsolete. + </p> + <p> + These, my dear, are Mr. Lovelace's companions: you'll be pleased to take + notice of that! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman said, this put him out of countenance. + </p> + <p> + I stared at him, and with such a meaning in my eyes, as he knew how to + take; and so was out of countenance again. + </p> + <p> + Don't you remember, my dear, who it was that told a young gentleman + designed for the gown, who owned that he was apt to be too easily put out + of countenance when he came into free company, 'That it was a bad sign; + that it looked as if his morals were not proof; but that his good + disposition seemed rather the effect of accident and education, than of + such a choice as was founded upon principle?' And don't you know the + lesson the very same young lady gave him, 'To endeavour to stem and + discountenance vice, and to glory in being an advocate in all companies + for virtue;' particularly observing, 'That it was natural for a man to + shun or to give up what he was ashamed of?' Which she should be sorry to + think his case on this occasion: adding, 'That vice was a coward, and + would hide its head, when opposed by such a virtue as had presence of + mind, and a full persuasion of its own rectitude to support it.' The lady, + you may remember, modestly put her doctrine into the mouth of a worthy + preacher, Dr. Lewen, as she used to do, when she has a mind not to be + thought what she is at so early an age; and that it may give more weight + to any thing she hit upon, that might appear tolerable, was her modest + manner of speech. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman, upon the whole, professed to me, upon his second recovery, + that he had no reason to think well of Mr. Lovelace's morals, from what he + heard of him in town; yet his two intimates talked of his being more + regular than he used to be. That he had made a very good resolution, that + of old Tom Wharton, was the expression, That he would never give a + challenge, nor refuse one; which they praised in him highly: that, in + short, he was a very brave fellow, and the most agreeable companion in the + world: and would one day make a great figure in his country; since there + was nothing he was not capable of— + </p> + <p> + I am afraid that his last assertion is too true. And this, my dear, is all + that Mr. Hickman could pick up about him: And is it not enough to + determine such a mind as yours, if not already determined? + </p> + <p> + Yet it must be said too, that if there be a woman in the world that can + reclaim him, it is you. And, by your account of his behaviour in the + interview between you, I own I have some hope of him. At least, this I + will say, that all the arguments he then used with you, seemed to be just + and right. And if you are to be his—But no more of that: he cannot, + after all, deserve you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER V + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 23. + </h3> + <p> + An unexpected visitor has turned the course of my thoughts, and changed + the subject I had intended to pursue. The only one for whom I would have + dispensed with my resolution not to see any body all the dedicated day: a + visiter, whom, according to Mr. Hickman's report from the expectations of + his libertine friends, I supposed to be in town.—Now, my dear, have + I saved myself the trouble of telling you, that it was you too-agreeable + rake. Our sex is said to love to trade in surprises: yet have I, by my + promptitude, surprised myself out of mine. I had intended, you must know, + to run twice the length, before I had suffered you to know so much as to + guess who, and whether man or woman, my visiter was: but since you have + the discovery at so cheap a rate, you are welcome to it. + </p> + <p> + The end of his coming was, to engage my interest with my charming friend; + and he was sure that I knew all your mind, to acquaint him what he had to + trust to. + </p> + <p> + He mentioned what had passed in the interview between you: but could not + be satisfied with the result of it, and with the little satisfaction he + had obtained from you: the malice of your family to him increasing, and + their cruelty to you not abating. His heart, he told me, was in tumults, + for fear you should be prevailed upon in favour of a man despised by every + body. + </p> + <p> + He gave me fresh instance of indignities cast upon himself by your uncles + and brother; and declared, that if you suffered yourself to be forced into + the arms of the man for whose sake he was loaded with undeserved abuses, + you should be one of the youngest, as you would be one of the loveliest + widows in England. And that he would moreover call your brother to account + for the liberties he takes with his character to every one he meets with. + </p> + <p> + He proposed several schemes, for you to choose some one of them, in order + to enable you to avoid the persecutions you labour under: One I will + mention—That you will resume your estate; and if you find + difficulties that can be no otherwise surmounted, that you will, either + avowedly or privately, as he had proposed to you, accept of Lady Betty + Lawrance's or Lord M.'s assistance to instate you in it. He declared, that + if you did, he would leave absolutely to your own pleasure afterwards, and + to the advice which your cousin Morden on his arrival should give you, + whether to encourage his address, or not, as you should be convinced of + the sincerity of the reformation which his enemies make him so much want. + </p> + <p> + I had now a good opportunity to sound him, as you wished Mr. Hickman would + Lord M. as to the continued or diminished favour of the ladies, and of his + Lordship, towards you, upon their being acquainted with the animosity of + your relations to them, as well as to their kinsman. I laid hold of the + opportunity, and he satisfied me, by reading some passages of a letter he + had about him, from Lord M. That an alliance with you, and that on the + foot of your own single merit, would be the most desirable event to them + that could happen: and so far to the purpose of your wished inquiry does + his Lordship go in this letter, that he assures him, that whatever you + suffer in fortune from the violence of your relations on his account, he + and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty will join to make it up to him. And yet that + the reputation of a family so splendid, would, no doubt, in a case of such + importance to the honour of both, make them prefer a general consent. + </p> + <p> + I told him, as you yourself I knew had done, that you were extremely + averse to Mr. Solmes; and that, might you be left to your own choice, it + would be the single life. As to himself, I plainly said, That you had + great and just objections to him on the score of his careless morals: that + it was surprising, that men who gave themselves the liberties he was said + to take, should presume to think, that whenever they took it into their + heads to marry, the most virtuous and worthy of the sex were to fall to + their lot. That as to the resumption, it had been very strongly urged by + myself, and would be still further urged; though you had been hitherto + averse to that measure: that your chief reliance and hopes were upon your + cousin Morden; and that to suspend or gain time till he arrived, was, as I + believed, your principal aim. + </p> + <p> + I told him, That with regard to the mischief he threatened, neither the + act nor the menace could serve any end but theirs who persecuted you; as + it would give them a pretence for carrying into effect their compulsory + projects; and that with the approbation of all the world; since he must + not think the public would give its voice in favour of a violent young + man, of no extraordinary character as to morals, who should seek to rob a + family of eminence of a child so valuable; and who threatened, if he could + not obtain her in preference to a man chosen by themselves, that he would + avenge himself upon them all by acts of violence. + </p> + <p> + I added, That he was very much mistaken, if he thought to intimidate you + by such menaces: for that, though your disposition was all sweetness, yet + I knew not a steadier temper in the world than yours; nor one more + inflexible, (as your friends had found, and would still further find, if + they continued to give occasion for its exertion,) whenever you thought + yourself in the right; and that you were ungenerously dealt with in + matters of too much moment to be indifferent about. Miss Clarissa Harlowe, + Mr. Lovelace, let me tell you, said I, timid as her foresight and prudence + may make her in some cases, where she apprehends dangers to those she + loves, is above fear, in points where her honour, and the true dignity of + her sex, are concerned.—In short, Sir, you must not think to + frighten Miss Clarissa Harlowe into such a mean or unworthy conduct as + only a weak or unsteady mind can be guilty of. + </p> + <p> + He was so very far from intending to intimidate you, he said, that he + besought me not to mention one word to you of what had passed between us: + that what he had hinted at, which carried the air of menace, was owing to + the fervour of his spirits, raised by his apprehensions of losing all hope + of you for ever; and on a supposition, that you were to be actually forced + into the arms of a man you hated: that were this to be the case, he must + own, that he should pay very little regard to the world, or its censures: + especially as the menaces of some of your family now, and their triumph + over him afterwards, would both provoke and warrant all the vengeance he + could take. + </p> + <p> + He added, that all the countries in the world were alike to him, but on + your account: so that, whatever he should think fit to do, were you lost + to him, he should have noting to apprehend from the laws of this. + </p> + <p> + I did not like the determined air he spoke this with: he is certainly + capable of great rashness. + </p> + <p> + He palliated a little this fierceness (which by the way I warmly censured) + by saying, That while you remain single, he will bear all the indignities + that shall be cast upon him by your family. But would you throw yourself, + if you were still farther driven, into any other protection, if not Lord + M.'s, or that of the ladies of his family, into my mother's,* suppose; or + would you go to London to private lodgings, where he would never visit + you, unless he had your leave (and from whence you might make your own + terms with your relations); he would be entirely satisfied; and would, as + he had said before, wait the effect of your cousin's arrival, and your + free determination as to his own fate. Adding, that he knew the family so + well, and how much fixed they were upon their measures, as well as the + absolute dependence they had upon your temper and principles, that he + could not but apprehend the worst, while you remained in their power, and + under the influence of their persuasions and menaces. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Perhaps it will be unnecessary to remind the reader, that + although Mr. Lovelace proposes (as above) to Miss Howe, that + her fair friend should have recourse to the protection of + Mrs. Howe, if farther driven; yet he had artfully taken + care, by means of his agent in the Harlowe family, not only + to inflame the family against her, but to deprive her of + Mrs. Howe's, and of every other protection, being from the + first resolved to reduce her to an absolute dependence upon + himself. See Vol. I. Letter XXXI. +</pre> + <p> + We had a great deal of other discourse: but as the reciting of the rest + would be but a repetition of many of the things that passed between you + and him in the interview between you in the wood-house, I refer myself to + your memory on that occasion.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Vol. I. Letter XXXVI. +</pre> + <p> + And now, my dear, upon the whole, I think it behoves you to make yourself + independent: all then will fall right. This man is a violent man. I should + wish, methinks, that you should not have either him or Solmes. You will + find, if you get out of your brother's and sister's way, what you can or + cannot do, with regard to either. + </p> + <p> + If your relations persist in their foolish scheme, I think I will take his + hint, and, at a proper opportunity, sound my mother. Mean time, let me + have your clear opinion of the resumption, which I join with Lovelace in + advising. You can but see how your demand will work. To demand, is not to + litigate. But be your resolution what it will, do not by any means repeat + to them, that you will not assert your right. If they go on to give you + provocation, you may have sufficient reason to change your mind: and let + them expect that you will change it. They have not the generosity to treat + you the better for disclaiming the power they know you have. That, I + think, need not now be told you. I am, my dearest friend, and ever will + be, + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate and faithful ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDN. NIGHT, MARCH 22. + </h3> + <p> + On the report made by my aunt and sister of my obstinacy, my assembled + relations have taken an unanimous resolution (as Betty tells me it is) + against me. This resolution you will find signified to me in the inclosed + letter from my brother, just now brought me. Be pleased to return it, when + perused. I may have occasion for it, in the altercations between my + relations and me. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + MISS CLARY, + </p> + <p> + I am commanded to let you know, that my father and uncles having heard + your aunt Hervey's account of all that has passed between her and you: + having heard from your sister what sort of treatment she has had from you: + having recollected all that has passed between your mother and you: having + weighed all your pleas and proposals: having taken into consideration + their engagements with Mr. Solmes; that gentleman's patience, and great + affection for you; and the little opportunity you have given yourself to + be acquainted either with his merit, or his proposals: having considered + two points more; to wit, the wounded authority of a father; and Mr. + Solmes's continued entreaties (little as you have deserved regard from + him) that you may be freed from a confinement to which he is desirous to + attribute your perverseness to him [averseness I should have said, but let + it go], he being unable to account otherwise for so strong a one, + supposing you told truth to your mother, when you asserted that your heart + was free; and which Mr. Solmes is willing to believe, though nobody else + does—For all these reasons, it is resolved, that you shall go to + your uncle Antony's: and you must accordingly prepare yourself to do so. + You will have but short notice of the day, for obvious reasons. + </p> + <p> + I will honestly tell you the motive for your going: it is a double one; + first, That they may be sure, that you shall not correspond with any body + they do not like (for they find from Mrs. Howe, that, by some means or + other, you do correspond with her daughter; and, through her, perhaps with + somebody else): and next, That you may receive the visits of Mr. Solmes; + which you have thought fit to refuse to do here; by which means you have + deprived yourself of the opportunity of knowing whom and what you have + hitherto refused. + </p> + <p> + If after one fortnight's conversation with Mr. Solmes, and after you have + heard what your friends shall further urge in his behalf, unhardened by + clandestine correspondencies, you shall convince them, that Virgil's amor + omnibus idem (for the application of which I refer you to the Georgic as + translated by Dryden) is verified in you, as well as in the rest of the + animal creation; and that you cannot, or will not forego your + prepossession in favour of the moral, the virtuous, the pious Lovelace, [I + would please you if I could!] it will then be considered, whether to + humour you, or to renounce you for ever. + </p> + <p> + It is hoped, that as you must go, you will go cheerfully. Your uncle + Antony will make ever thing at his house agreeable to you. But indeed he + won't promise, that he will not, at proper times, draw up the bridge. + </p> + <p> + Your visiters, besides Mr. Solmes, will be myself, if you permit me that + honour, Miss Clary; your sister; and, as you behave to Mr. Solmes, your + aunt Hervey, and your uncle Harlowe; and yet the two latter will hardly + come neither, if they think it will be to hear your whining vocatives.—Betty + Barnes will be your attendant: and I must needs tell you, Miss, that we + none of us think the worse of the faithful maid for your dislike of her: + although Betty, who would be glad to oblige you, laments it as a + misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Your answer is required, whether you cheerfully consent to go? And your + indulgent mother bids me remind you from her, that a fortnight's visit + from Mr. Solmes, are all that is meant at present. + </p> + <p> + I am, as you shall be pleased to deserve, Yours, &c. JAMES HARLOWE, + JUN. + </p> + <p> + So here is the master-stroke of my brother's policy! Called upon to + consent to go to my uncle Antony's avowedly to receive Mr. Solmes's + visits!—A chapel! A moated-house!—Deprived of the opportunity + of corresponding with you!—or of any possibility of escape, should + violence be used to compel me to be that odious man's!* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * These violent measures, and the obstinate perseverance of + the whole family in them, will be the less wondered at, when + it is considered, that all the time they were but as so many + puppets danced upon Mr. Lovelace's wires, as he boasts, Vol. + I. Letter XXXI. +</pre> + <p> + Late as it was when I received this insolent letter, I wrote an answer to + it directly, that it might be ready for the writer's time of rising. I + inclose the rough draught of it. You will see by it how much his vile hint + from the Georgic; and his rude one of my whining vocatives, have set me + up. Besides, as the command to get ready to go to my uncle's is in the + name of my father and uncles, it is but to shew a piece of the art they + accuse me of, to resent the vile hint I have so much reason to resent in + order to palliate my refusal of preparing to go to my uncle's; which + refusal would otherwise be interpreted an act of rebellion by my brother + and sister: for it seems plain to me, that they will work but half their + ends, if they do not deprive me of my father's and uncles' favour, even + although it were possible for me to comply with their own terms. + </p> + <p> + You might have told me, Brother, in three lines, what the determination of + my friends was; only, that then you would not have had room to display + your pedantry by so detestable an allusion or reference to the Georgic. + Give me leave to tell you, Sir, that if humanity were a branch of your + studies at the university, it has not found a genius in you for mastering + it. Nor is either my sex or myself, though a sister, I see entitled to the + least decency from a brother, who has studied, as it seems, rather to + cultivate the malevolence of his natural temper, than any tendency which + one might have hoped his parentage, if not his education, might have given + him to a tolerable politeness. + </p> + <p> + I doubt not, that you will take amiss my freedom: but as you have deserved + it from me, I shall be less and less concerned on that score, as I see you + are more and more intent to shew your wit at the expense of justice and + compassion. + </p> + <p> + The time is indeed come that I can no longer bear those contempts and + reflections which a brother, least of all men, is entitled to give. And + let me beg of you one favour, Sir:—It is this, That you will not + give yourself any concern about a husband for me, till I shall have the + forwardness to propose a wife to you. Pardon me, Sir; but I cannot help + thinking, that could I have the art to get my father of my side, I should + have as much right to prescribe for you, as you have for me. + </p> + <p> + As to the communication you make me, I must take upon me to say, That + although I will receive, as becomes me, any of my father's commands; yet, + as this signification is made by a brother, who has shewn of late so much + of an unbrotherly animosity to me, (for no reason in the world that I know + if, but that he believes he has, in me, one sister too much for his + interest,) I think myself entitled to conclude, that such a letter as you + have sent me, is all your own: and of course to declare, that, while I so + think it, I will not willingly, nor even without violence, go to any + place, avowedly to receive Mr. Solmes's visits. + </p> + <p> + I think myself so much entitled to resent your infamous hint, and this as + well for the sake of my sex, as for my own, that I ought to declare, as I + do, that I will not receive any more of your letters, unless commanded to + do so by an authority I never will dispute; except in a case where I think + my future as well as present happiness concerned: and were such a case to + happen, I am sure my father's harshness will be less owing to himself than + to you; and to the specious absurdities of your ambitious and selfish + schemes.—Very true, Sir! + </p> + <p> + One word more, provoked as I am, I will add: That had I been thought as + really obstinate and perverse as of late I am said to be, I should not + have been so disgracefully treated as I have been—Lay your hand upon + your heart, Brother, and say, By whose instigations?—And examine + what I have done to deserve to be made thus unhappy, and to be obliged to + style myself + </p> + <p> + Your injured sister, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + When, my dear, you have read my answer to my brother's letter, tell me + what you think of me?—It shall go! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 23. + </h3> + <p> + My letter has set them all in tumults: for, it seems, none of them went + home last night; and they all were desired to be present to give their + advice, if I should refuse compliance with a command thought so reasonable + as it seems this is. + </p> + <p> + Betty tells me, that at first my father, in a rage, was for coming up to + me himself, and for turning me out of his doors directly. Nor was he + restrained, till it was hinted to him, that that was no doubt my wish, and + would answer all my perverse views. But the result was, that my brother + (having really, as my mother and aunt insisted, taken wrong measures with + me) should write again in a more moderate manner: for nobody else was + permitted or cared to write to such a ready scribbler. And, I having + declared, that I would not receive any more of his letters, without + command from a superior authority, my mother was to give it hers: and + accordingly has done so in the following lines, written on the + superscription of his letter to me: which letter also follows; together + with my reply. + </p> + <p> + CLARY HARLOWE, + </p> + <p> + Receive and read this, with the temper that becomes your sex, your + character, your education, and your duty: and return an answer to it, + directed to your brother. + </p> + <p> + CHARLOTTE HARLOWE. TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + Once more I write, although imperiously prohibited by a younger sister. + Your mother will have me do so, that you may be destitute of all defence, + if you persist in your pervicacy. Shall I be a pedant, Miss, for this + word? She is willing to indulge in you the least appearance of that + delicacy for which she once, as well as every body else, admired you—before + you knew Lovelace; I cannot, however, help saying that: and she, and your + aunt Hervey, will have it—[they would fain favour you, if they + could] that I may have provoked from you the answer they nevertheless own + to be so exceedingly unbecoming. I am now learning, you see, to take up + the softer language, where you have laid it down. This then is the case: + </p> + <p> + They entreat, they pray, they beg, they supplicate (will either of these + do, Miss Clary?) that you will make no scruple to go to your uncle + Antony's: and fairly I am to tell you, for the very purpose mentioned in + my last—or, 'tis presumable, they need not entreat, beg, pray, + supplicate. Thus much is promised to Mr. Solmes, who is your advocate, and + very uneasy that you should be under constraint, supposing that your + dislike to him arises from that. And, if he finds that you are not to be + moved in his favour, when you are absolutely freed from what you call a + controul, he will forbear thinking of you, whatever it costs him. He loves + you too well: and in this, I really think, his understanding, which you + have reflected upon, is to be questioned. + </p> + <p> + Only for one fornight [sic], therefore, permit his visits. Your education + (you tell me of mine, you know) ought to make you incapable of rudeness to + any body. He will not, I hope, be the first man, myself excepted, whom you + ever treated rudely, purely because he is esteemed by us all. I am, what + you have a mind to make me, friend, brother, or servant—I wish I + could be still more polite, to so polite, to so delicate, a sister. + </p> + <p> + JA. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + You must still write to me, if you condescend to reply. Your mother will + not be permitted to be disturbed with your nothing-meaning vocatives!—Vocatives, + once more, Madam Clary, repeats the pedant your brother! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + TO JAMES HARLOWE, JUNIOR, ESQ. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, my ever-dear and honoured Papa and Mamma, in this manner to + surprise you into an audience, (presuming this will be read to you,) since + I am denied the honour of writing to you directly. Let me beg of you to + believe, that nothing but the most unconquerable dislike could make me + stand against your pleasure. What are riches, what are settlements, to + happiness? Let me not thus cruelly be given up to a man my very soul is + averse to. Permit me to repeat, that I cannot honestly be his. Had I a + slighter notion of the matrimonial duty than I have, perhaps I might. But + when I am to bear all the misery, and that for life; when my heart is less + concerned in this matter, than my soul; my temporary, perhaps, than my + future good; why should I be denied the liberty of refusing? That liberty + is all I ask. + </p> + <p> + It were easy for me to give way to hear Mr. Solmes talk for the mentioned + fortnight, although it is impossible for me, say what he would, to get + over my dislike to him. But the moated-house, the chapel there, and the + little mercy my brother and sister, who are to be there, have hitherto + shewn me, are what I am extremely apprehensive of. And why does my brother + say, my restraint is to be taken off, (and that too at Mr. Solmes's + desire,) when I am to be a still closer prisoner than before; the bridge + threatened to be drawn up; and no dear papa and mamma near me, to appeal + to, in the last resort? + </p> + <p> + Transfer not, I beseech you, to a brother and sister your own authority + over your child—to a brother and sister, who treat me with + unkindness and reproach; and, as I have too much reason to apprehend, + misrepresent my words and behaviour; or, greatly favoured as I used to be, + it is impossible I should be sunk so low in your opinions, as I unhappily + am! + </p> + <p> + Let but this my hard, my disgraceful confinement be put an end to. Permit + me, my dear Mamma, to pursue my needleworks in your presence, as one of + your maidens; and you shall be witness, that it is not either wilfulness + or prepossession that governs me. Let me not, however, be put out of your + own house. Let Mr. Solmes come and go, as my papa pleases: let me but stay + or retire when he comes, as I can; and leave the rest to Providence. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, Brother, that thus, with an appearance of art, I address + myself to my father and mother, to whom I am forbidden to approach, or to + write. Hard it is to be reduced to such a contrivance! Forgive likewise + the plain dealing I have used in the above, with the nobleness of a + gentleman, and the gentleness due from a brother to a sister. Although of + late you have given me but little room to hope either for your favour or + compassion; yet, having not deserved to forfeit either, I presume to claim + both: for I am confident it is at present much in your power, although but + my brother (my honoured parents both, I bless God, in being), to give + peace to the greatly disturbed mind of + </p> + <p> + Your unhappy sister, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + Betty tells me, my brother has taken my letter all in pieces; and has + undertaken to write such an answer to it, as shall confirm the wavering. + So, it is plain, that I should have moved somebody by it, but for this + hard-hearted brother—God forgive him! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY NIGHT, MARCH 23. + </h3> + <p> + I send you the boasted confutation-letter, just now put into my hands. My + brother and sister, my uncle Antony and Mr. Solmes, are, I understand, + exulting over the copy of it below, as an unanswerable performance. + </p> + <p> + TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE + </p> + <p> + Once again, my inflexible Sister, I write to you. It is to let you know, + that the pretty piece of art you found out to make me the vehicle of your + whining pathetics to your father and mother, has not had the expected + effect. + </p> + <p> + I do assure you, that your behaviour has not been misrepresented—nor + need it. Your mother, who is solicitous to take all opportunities of + putting the most favourable constructions upon all you do, has been + forced, as you well know, to give you up, upon full trial. No need then of + the expedient of pursuing your needleworks in her sight. She cannot bear + your whining pranks: and it is for her sake, that you are not permitted to + come into her presence—nor will be, but upon her own terms. + </p> + <p> + You had like to have made a simpleton of your aunt Hervey yesterday: she + came down from you, pleading in your favour. But when she was asked, What + concession she had brought you to? she looked about her, and knew not what + to answer. So your mother, when surprised into the beginning of your + cunning address to her and to your father, under my name, (for I had begun + to read it, little suspecting such an ingenious subterfuge,)and would then + make me read it through, wrung her hands, Oh! her dear child, her dear + child, must not be so compelled!—But when she was asked, Whether she + would be willing to have for her son-in-law the man who bids defiance to + her whole family; and who had like to have murdered her son? And what + concession she had gained from her dear child to merit this tenderness? + And that for one who had apparently deceived her in assuring her that her + heart was free?—Then could she look about her, as her sister had + done before: then was she again brought to herself, and to a resolution to + assert her authority [not to transfer it, witty presumer!] over the rebel, + who of late has so ungratefully struggled to throw it off. + </p> + <p> + You seem, child, to have a high notion of the matrimonial duty; and I'll + warrant, like the rest of your sex, (one or two, whom I have the honour to + know, excepted,) that you will go to church to promise what you will never + think of afterwards. But, sweet child! as your worthy Mamma Norton calls + you, think a little less of the matrimonial, (at least, till you come into + that state,) and a little more of the filial duty. + </p> + <p> + How can you say, you are to bear all the misery, when you give so large a + share of it to your parents, to your uncles, to your aunt, to myself, and + to your sister; who all, for eighteen years of your life, loved you so + well? + </p> + <p> + If of late I have not given you room to hope for my favour or compassion, + it is because of late you have not deserved either. I know what you mean, + little reflecting fool, by saying, it is much in my power, although but + your brother, (a very slight degree of relationship with you,) to give you + that peace which you can give yourself whenever you please. + </p> + <p> + The liberty of refusing, pretty Miss, is denied you, because we are all + sensible, that the liberty of choosing, to every one's dislike, must + follow. The vile wretch you have set your heart upon speaks this plainly + to every body, though you won't. He says you are his, and shall be his, + and he will be the death of any man who robs him of his PROPERTY. So, + Miss, we have a mind to try this point with him. My father, supposing he + has the right of a father in his child, is absolutely determined not to be + bullied out of that right. And what must that child be, who prefers the + rake to a father? + </p> + <p> + This is the light in which this whole debate ought to be taken. Blush, + then, Delicacy, that cannot bear the poet's amor omnibus idem!—Blush, + then, Purity! Be ashamed, Virgin Modesty! And, if capable of conviction, + surrender your whole will to the will of the honoured pair, to whom you + owe your being: and beg of all your friends to forgive and forget the part + you have of late acted. + </p> + <p> + I have written a longer letter than ever I designed to write to you, after + the insolent treatment and prohibition you have given me: and, now I am + commissioned to tell you, that your friends are as weary of confining you, + as you are of being confined. And therefore you must prepare yourself to + go in a very few days, as you have been told before, to your uncle + Antony's; who, notwithstanding you apprehensions, will draw up his bridge + when he pleases; will see what company he pleases in his own house; nor + will he demolish his chapel to cure you of your foolish late-commenced + antipathy to a place of divine worship.—The more foolish, as, if we + intended to use force, we could have the ceremony pass in your chamber, as + well as any where else. + </p> + <p> + Prejudice against Mr. Solmes has evidently blinded you, and there is a + charitable necessity to open your eyes: since no one but you thinks the + gentleman so contemptible in his person; nor, for a plain country + gentleman, who has too much solid sense to appear like a coxcomb, justly + blamable in his manners.—And as to his temper, it is necessary you + should speak upon fuller knowledge, than at present it is plain you can + have of him. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, it will not be amiss, that you prepare for your speedy + removal, as well for the sake of your own conveniency, as to shew your + readiness, in one point, at least, to oblige your friends; one of whom you + may, if you please to deserve it, reckon, though but a brother, + </p> + <p> + JAMES HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + P.S. If you are disposed to see Mr. Solmes, and to make some excuses to + him for past conduct, in order to be able to meet him somewhere else with + the less concern to yourself for your freedoms with him, he shall attend + you where you please. + </p> + <p> + If you have a mind to read the settlements, before they are read to you + for your signing, they shall be sent you up—Who knows, but they will + help you to some fresh objections?—Your heart is free, you know—It + must—For, did you not tell your mother it was? And will the pious + Clarissa fib to her mamma? + </p> + <p> + I desire no reply. The case requires none. Yet I will ask you, Have you, + Miss, no more proposals to make? + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I was so vexed when I came to the end of this letter, (the postscript to + which, perhaps, might be written after the others had seen the letter,) + that I took up my pen, with an intent to write to my uncle Harlowe about + resuming my own estate, in pursuance of your advice. But my heart failed + me, when I recollected, that I had not one friend to stand by or support + me in my claim; and it would but the more incense them, without answering + any good end. Oh! that my cousin were but come! + </p> + <p> + Is it not a sad thing, beloved as I thought myself so lately by every one, + that now I have not one person in the world to plead for me, to stand by + me, or who would afford me refuge, were I to be under the necessity of + asking for it!—I who had the vanity to think I had as many friends + as I saw faces, and flattered myself too, that it was not altogether + unmerited, because I saw not my Maker's image, either in man, woman, or + child, high or low, rich or poor, whom, comparatively, I loved not as + myself.—Would to heaven, my dear, that you were married! Perhaps, + then, you could have induced Mr. Hickman to afford me protection, till + these storms were over-blown. But then this might have involved him in + difficulties and dangers; and that I would not have done for the world. + </p> + <p> + I don't know what to do, not I!—God forgive me, but I am very + impatient! I wish—But I don't know what to wish, without a sin!—Yet + I wish it would please God to take me to his mercy!—I can meet with + none here—What a world is this!—What is there in it desirable? + The good we hope for, so strangely mixed, that one knows not what to wish + for! And one half of mankind tormenting the other, and being tormented + themselves in tormenting!—For here is this my particular case, my + relations cannot be happy, though they make me unhappy!—Except my + brother and sister, indeed—and they seem to take delight in and + enjoy the mischief they make. + </p> + <p> + But it is time to lay down my pen, since my ink runs nothing but gall. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY MORNING, SIX O'CLOCK + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Betty tells me, there is now nothing talked of but of my going to my + uncle Antony's. She has been ordered, she says, to get ready to attend me + thither: and, upon my expressing my averseness to go, had the confidence + to say, That having heard me often praise the romanticness of the place, + she was astonished (her hands and eyes lifted up) that I should set myself + against going to a house so much in my taste. + </p> + <p> + I asked if this was her own insolence, or her young mistress's + observation? + </p> + <p> + She half-astonished me by her answer: That it was hard she could not say a + good thing, without being robbed of the merit of it. + </p> + <p> + As the wench looked as if she really thought she had said a good thing, + without knowing the boldness of it, I let it pass. But, to say the truth, + this creature has surprised me on many occasions with her smartness: for, + since she has been employed in this controuling office, I have discovered + a great deal of wit in her assurance, which I never suspected before. This + shews, that insolence is her talent: and that Fortune, in placing her as a + servant to my sister, had not done so kindly by her as Nature; for that + she would make a better figure as her companion. And indeed I can't help + thinking sometimes, that I myself was better fitted by Nature to be the + servant of both, than the mistress of the one, or the servant of the + other. And within these few months past, Fortune has acted by me, as if + she were of the same mind. + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY, TEN O'CLOCK + </p> + <p> + Going down to my poultry-yard, just now, I heard my brother and sister and + that Solmes laughing and triumphing together. The high yew-hedge between + us, which divides the yard from the garden, hindered them from seeing me. + </p> + <p> + My brother, as I found, has been reading part, or the whole perhaps, of + the copy of his last letter—Mighty prudent, and consistent, you'll + say, with their views to make me the wife of a man from whom they conceal + not what, were I to be such, it would be kind in them to endeavour to + conceal, out of regard to my future peace!—But I have no doubt, that + they hate me heartily. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, you was up with her there, brother, said my sister. You need not + have bid her not to write to you. I'll engage, with all her wit, she'll + never pretend to answer it. + </p> + <p> + Why, indeed, said my brother, with an air of college-sufficiency, with + which he abounds, (for he thinks nobody writes like himself,) I believe I + have given her a choke-pear. What say you, Mr. Solmes? + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, said he, I think it is unanswerable. But will it not exasperate + he more against me? + </p> + <p> + Never fear, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, but we'll carry our point, if she + do not tire you out first. We have gone too far in this method to recede. + Her cousin Morden will soon be here: so all must be over before that time, + or she'll be made independent of us all. + </p> + <p> + There, Miss Howe, is the reason given for their jehu-driving. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes declared, that he was determined to persevere while my brother + gave him any hopes, and while my father stood firm. + </p> + <p> + My sister told my brother, that he hit me charmingly on the reason why I + ought to converse with Mr. Solmes: but that he should not be so smart upon + the sex, for the faults of this perverse girl. + </p> + <p> + Some lively, and, I suppose, witty answer, my brother returned; for he and + Mr. Solmes laughed outrageously upon it, and Bella, laughing too, called + him a naughty man: but I heard no more of what they said; they walked on + into the garden. + </p> + <p> + If you think, my dear, that what I have related did not again fire me, you + will find yourself mistaken when you read at this place the enclosed copy + of my letter to my brother; struck off while the iron was red hot. + </p> + <p> + No more call me meek and gentle, I beseech you. + </p> + <p> + TO MR. JAMES HARLOWE FRIDAY MORNING. SIR, + </p> + <p> + If, notwithstanding your prohibition, I should be silent, on occasion of + your last, you would, perhaps, conclude, that I was consenting to go to my + uncle Antony's upon the condition you mention. My father must do as he + pleases with his child. He may turn me out of his doors, if he thinks fit, + or give you leave to do it; but (loth as I am to say it) I should think it + very hard to be carried by force to any body's house, when I have one of + my own to go to. + </p> + <p> + Far be it from me, notwithstanding yours and my sister's provocations, to + think of my taking my estate into my own hands, without my father's leave: + But why, if I must not stay any longer here, may I not be permitted to go + thither? I will engage to see nobody they would not have me see, if this + favour be permitted. Favour I call it, and am ready to receive and + acknowledge it as such, although my grandfather's will has made it a + matter of right. + </p> + <p> + You ask me, in a very unbrotherly manner, in the postscript to your + letter, if I have not some new proposals to make? I HAVE (since you put + the question) three or four; new ones all, I think; though I will be bold + to say, that, submitting the case to any one person whom you have not set + against me, my old ones ought not to have been rejected. I think this; why + then should I not write it?—Nor have you any more reason to storm at + your sister for telling it you, (since you seem in your letter to make it + your boast how you turned my mother and my aunt Hervey against me,) than I + have to be angry with my brother, for treating me as no brother ought to + treat a sister. + </p> + <p> + These, then, are my new proposals. + </p> + <p> + That, as above, I may not be hindered from going to reside (under such + conditions as shall be prescribed to me, which I will most religiously + observe) at my grandfather's late house. I will not again in this place + call it mine. I have reason to think it a great misfortune that ever it + was so—indeed I have. + </p> + <p> + If this be not permitted, I desire leave to go for a month, or for what + time shall be thought fit, to Miss Howe's. I dare say my mother will + consent to it, if I have my father's permission to go. + </p> + <p> + If this, neither, be allowed, and I am to be turned out of my father's + house, I beg I may be suffered to go to my aunt Hervey's, where I will + inviolably observe her commands, and those of my father and mother. + </p> + <p> + But if this, neither, is to be granted, it is my humble request, that I + may be sent to my uncle Harlowe's, instead of my uncle Antony's. I mean + not by this any disrespect to my uncle Antony: but his moat, with his + bridge threatened to be drawn up, and perhaps the chapel there, terrify me + beyond expression, notwithstanding your witty ridicule upon me for that + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + If this likewise be refused, and if I must be carried to the moated-house, + which used to be a delightful one to me, let it be promised me, that I + shall not be compelled to receive Mr. Solmes's visits there; and then I + will as cheerfully go, as ever I did. + </p> + <p> + So here, Sir, are your new proposals. And if none of them answer your end, + as each of them tends to the exclusion of that ungenerous persister's + visits, be pleased to know, that there is no misfortune I will not submit + to, rather than yield to give my hand to the man to whom I can allow no + share in my heart. + </p> + <p> + If I write in a style different from my usual, and different from what I + wished to have occasion to write, an impartial person, who knew what I + have accidentally, within this hour past, heard from your mouth, and my + sister's, and a third person's, (particularly the reason you give for + driving on at this violent rate, to wit, my cousin Morden's soon-expected + arrival,) would think I have but too much reason for it. Then be pleased + to remember, Sir, that when my whining vocatives have subjected me to so + much scorn and ridicule, it is time, were it but to imitate examples so + excellent as you and my sister set me, that I should endeavour to assert + my character, in order to be thought less an alien, and nearer of kin to + you both, than either of you have of late seemed to suppose me. + </p> + <p> + Give me leave, in order to empty my female quiver at once, to add, that I + know no other reason which you can have for forbidding me to reply to you, + after you have written what you pleased to me, than that you are conscious + you cannot answer to reason and to justice the treatment you have given + me. + </p> + <p> + If it be otherwise, I, an unlearned, an unlogical girl, younger by near a + third than yourself, will venture (so assured am I of the justice of my + cause) to put my fate upon an issue with you: with you, Sir, who have had + the advantage of an academical education; whose mind must have been + strengthened by observation, and learned conversation, and who, pardon my + going so low, have been accustomed to give choke-pears to those you + vouchsafe to write against. + </p> + <p> + Any impartial person, your late tutor, for instance, or the pious and + worthy Dr. Lewen, may be judge between us: and if either give it against + me, I will promise to resign to my destiny: provided, if it be given + against you, that my father will be pleased only to allow of my negative + to the person so violently sought to be imposed upon me. + </p> + <p> + I flatter myself, Brother, that you will the readier come into this + proposal, as you seem to have a high opinion of your talents for + argumentation; and not a low one of the cogency of the arguments contained + in your last letter. And if I can possibly have no advantage in a + contention with you, if the justice of my cause affords me not any (as you + have no opinion it will,) it behoves you, methinks, to shew to an + impartial moderator that I am wrong, and you not so. + </p> + <p> + If this be accepted, there is a necessity for its being carried on by the + pen; the facts being stated, and agreed upon by both; and the decision to + be given, according to the force of the arguments each shall produce in + support of their side of the question: for give me leave to say, I know + too well the manliness of your temper, to offer at a personal debate with + you. + </p> + <p> + If it be not accepted, I shall conclude, that you cannot defend your + conduct towards me; and shall only beg of you, that, for the future, you + will treat me with the respect due to a sister from a brother who would be + thought as polite as learned. + </p> + <p> + And now, Sir, if I have seemed to shew some spirit, not foreign to the + relation I have the honour to be to you, and to my sister; and which may + be deemed not altogether of a piece with that part of my character which + once, it seems, gained me every one's love; be pleased to consider to + whom, and to what it is owing; and that this part of that character was + not dispensed with, till it subjected me to that scorn, and to those + insults, which a brother, who has been so tenacious of an independence + voluntarily given up by me, and who has appeared so exalted upon it, ought + not to have shewn to any body, much less to a weak and defenceless sister; + who is, notwithstanding, an affectionate and respectful one, and would be + glad to shew herself to be so upon all future occasions; as she has in + every action of her past life, although of late she has met with such + unkind returns. + </p> + <p> + CL. HARLOWE + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + See, my dear, the force, and volubility, as I may say, of passion; for the + letter I send you is my first draught, struck off without a blot or + erasure. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + FRIDAY, THREE O'CLOCK + </p> + <p> + As soon as I had transcribed it, I sent it down to my brother by Mrs. + Betty. + </p> + <p> + The wench came up soon after, all aghast, with a Laud, Miss! What have you + done?—What have you written? For you have set them all in a joyful + uproar! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + My sister is but this moment gone from me. She came up all in a flame; + which obliged me abruptly to lay down my pen: she ran to me— + </p> + <p> + O Spirit! said she; tapping my neck a little too hard. And is it come to + this at last—! + </p> + <p> + Do you beat me, Bella? + </p> + <p> + Do you call this beating you? only tapping you shoulder thus, said she; + tapping again more gently—This is what we expected it would come to—You + want to be independent—My father has lived too long for you—! + </p> + <p> + I was going to speak with vehemence; but she put her handkerchief before + my mouth, very rudely—You have done enough with your pen, mean + listener, as you are!—But know that neither your independent scheme, + nor any of your visiting ones, will be granted you. Take your course, + perverse one! Call in your rake to help you to an independence upon your + parents, and a dependence upon him!—Do so!—Prepare this moment—resolve + what you will take with you—to-morrow you go—depend upon it + to-morrow you go!—No longer shall you stay here, watching and + creeping about to hearken to what people say—'Tis determined, child!—You + go to-morrow—my brother would have come up to tell you so; but I + persuaded him to the contrary—for I know not what had become of you, + if he had—Such a letter! such an insolent, such a conceited + challenger!—O thou vain creature! But prepare yourself, I say—to-morrow + you go—my brother will accept of your bold challenge; but it must be + personal; and at my uncle Antony's—or perhaps at Mr. Solmes's— + </p> + <p> + Thus she ran on, almost foaming with passion; till, quite out of patience, + I said, No more of your violence, Bella—Had I known in what way you + designed to come up, you should not have found my chamber-door open—talk + to your servant in this manner. Unlike you, as I bless God I am, I am + nevertheless your sister—and let me tell you, that I won't go + to-morrow, nor next day, nor next day to that—except I am dragged + away by violence. + </p> + <p> + What! not if your father or mother command it—Girl? said she, + intending another word, by her pause and manner before it came out. + </p> + <p> + Let it come to that, Bella; then I shall know what to say. But it shall be + from their own mouths, if I do—not from yours, nor you Betty's—And + say another word to me, in this manner, and be the consequence what it + may, I will force myself into their presence; and demand what I have done + to be used thus! + </p> + <p> + Come along, Child! Come along, Meekness—taking my hand, and leading + me towards the door—Demand it of them now—you'll find both + your despised parents together!—What! does your heart fail you?—for + I resisted, being thus insolently offered to be led, and pulled my hand + from her. + </p> + <p> + I want not to be led, said I; and since I can plead your invitation, I + will go: and was posting to the stairs accordingly in my passion—but + she got between me and the door, and shut it— + </p> + <p> + Let me first, Bold one, said she, apprize them of your visit—for + your own sake let me—for my brother is with them. But yet opening it + again, seeing me shrink back—Go, if you will!—Why don't you + go?—Why don't you go, Miss?—following me to my closet, whither + I retired, with my heart full, and pulled the sash-door after me; and + could no longer hold in my tears. + </p> + <p> + Nor would I answer one word to her repeated aggravations, nor to her + demands upon me to open my door (for the key was on the inside); nor so + much as turn my head towards her, as she looked through the glass at me. + And at last, which vexed her to the heart, I drew the silk curtain, that + she should not see me, and down she went muttering all the way. + </p> + <p> + Is not this usage enough to provoke a rashness never before thought of? + </p> + <p> + As it is but too probable that I may be hurried away to my uncle's without + being able to give you previous notice of it; I beg that as soon as you + shall hear of such a violence, you would send to the usual place, to take + back such of your letters as may not have reached my hands, or to fetch + any of mine that may be there. + </p> + <p> + May you, my dear, be always happy, prays you CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + I have received your four letters. But am in such a ferment, that I cannot + at present write to them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER X + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY NIGHT, MARCH 24. + </h3> + <p> + I have a most provoking letter from my sister. I might have supposed she + would resent the contempt she brought upon herself in my chamber. Her + conduct surely can only be accounted for by the rage instigate by a + supposed rivalry. + </p> + <p> + TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE + </p> + <p> + I am to tell you, that your mother has begged you off for the morrow: but + that you have effectually done your business with her, as well as with + every body else. + </p> + <p> + In your proposals and letter to your brother, you have shewn yourself so + silly, and so wise; so young, and so old; so gentle, and so obstinate; so + meek, and so violent; that never was there so mixed a character. + </p> + <p> + We all know of whom you have borrowed this new spirit. And yet the seeds + of it must be in your heart, or it could not all at once shew itself so + rampant. It would be doing Mr. Solmes a spite to wish him such a shy, + un-shy girl; another of your contradictory qualities—I leave you to + make out what I mean by it. + </p> + <p> + Here, Miss, your mother will not let you remain: she cannot have any peace + of mind while such a rebel of a child is so near her. Your aunt Hervey + will not take a charge which all the family put together cannot manage. + Your uncle Harlowe will not see you at his house, till you are married. + So, thanks to your own stubbornness, you have nobody that will receive you + but your uncle Antony. Thither you must go in a very few days; and, when + there, your brother will settle with you, in my presence, all that relates + to your modest challenge; for it is accepted, I assure you. Dr. Lewen will + possibly be there, since you make choice of him. Another gentleman + likewise, were it but to convince you, that he is another sort of man than + you have taken him to be. Your two uncles will possibly be there too, to + see that the poor, weak, and defenceless sister has fair play. So, you + see, Miss, what company your smart challenge will draw together. + </p> + <p> + Prepare for the day. You'll soon be called upon. Adieu, Mamma Norton's + sweet child! + </p> + <p> + ARAB. HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I transcribed this letter, and sent it to my mother, with these lines: + </p> + <p> + A very few words, my ever-honoured Mamma! + </p> + <p> + If my sister wrote the enclosed by my father's direction, or yours, I must + submit to the usage she gave me in it, with this only observation, That it + is short of the personal treatment I have received from her. If it be of + her own head—why then, Madam—But I knew that when I was + banished from your presence—Yet, till I know if she has or has not + authority for this usage, I will only write further, that I am + </p> + <p> + Your very unhappy child, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + This answer I received in an open slip of paper; but it was wet in one + place. I kissed the place; for I am sure it was blistered, as I may say, + by a mother's tear!—She must (I hope she must) have written it + reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + To apply for protection, where authority is defied, is bold. Your sister, + who would not in your circumstances have been guilty of your perverseness, + may allowably be angry at you for it. However, we have told her to + moderate her zeal for our insulted authority. See, if you can deserve + another behaviour, than that you complain of: which cannot, however be so + grievous to you, as the cause of it is to + </p> + <p> + Your more unhappy Mother. + </p> + <p> + How often must I forbid you any address to me! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Give me, my dearest Miss Howe, your opinion, what I can, what I ought to + do. Not what you would do (pushed as I am pushed) in resentment or passion—since, + so instigated, you tell me, that you should have been with somebody before + now—and steps taken in passion hardly ever fail of giving cause for + repentance: but acquaint me with what you think cool judgment, and + after-reflection, whatever were to be the event, will justify. + </p> + <p> + I doubt not your sympathizing love: but yet you cannot possibly feel + indignity and persecution so very sensibly as the immediate sufferer feels + them—are fitter therefore to advise me, than I am myself. + </p> + <p> + I will here rest my cause. Have I, or have I not, suffered or borne + enough? And if they will still persevere; if that strange persister + against an antipathy so strongly avowed, will still persist; say, What can + I do?—What course pursue?—Shall I fly to London, and endeavour + to hide myself from Lovelace, as well as from all my own relations, till + my cousin Morden arrives? Or shall I embark for Leghorn in my way to my + cousin? Yet, my sex, my youth, considered, how full of danger is this last + measure!—And may not my cousin be set out for England, while I am + getting thither?—What can I do?—Tell me, tell me, my dearest + Miss Howe, [for I dare not trust myself,] tell me, what I can do. + </p> + <p> + ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + I have been forced to try to compose my angry passions at my harpsichord; + having first shut close my doors and windows, that I might not be heard + below. As I was closing the shutters of the windows, the distant whooting + of the bird of Minerva, as from the often-visited woodhouse, gave the + subject in that charming Ode to Wisdom, which does honour to our sex, as + it was written by one of it. I made an essay, a week ago, to set the three + last stanzas of it, as not unsuitable to my unhappy situation; and after I + had re-perused the Ode, those were my lesson; and, I am sure, in the + solemn address they contain to the All-Wise and All-powerful Deity, my + heart went with my fingers. + </p> + <p> + I enclose the Ode, and my effort with it. The subject is solemn; my + circumstances are affecting; and I flatter myself, that I have not been + quite unhappy in the performance. If it obtain your approbation, I shall + be out of doubt, and should be still more assured, could I hear it tried + by your voice and finger. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +ODE TO WISDOM BY A LADY + + + I. + The solitary bird of night + Thro' thick shades now wings his flight, + And quits his time-shook tow'r; + Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day, + In philosophic gloom he lay, + Beneath his ivy bow'r. + + II. + With joy I hear the solemn sound, + Which midnight echoes waft around, + And sighing gales repeat. + Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend, + And, faithful to thy summons, bend + At Wisdom's awful seat. + + III. + She loves the cool, the silent eve, + Where no false shows of life deceive, + Beneath the lunar ray. + Here folly drops each vain disguise; + Nor sport her gaily colour'd dyes, + As in the beam of day. + + IV. + O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art, + That glads the sense, and mends the heart, + Blest source of purer joys! + In ev'ry form of beauty bright, + That captivates the mental sight + With pleasure and surprise; + + V. + To thy unspotted shrine I bow: + Attend thy modest suppliant's vow, + That breathes no wild desires; + But, taught by thy unerring rules, + To shun the fruitless wish of fools, + To nobler views aspires. + + VI. + Not Fortune's gem, Ambition's plume, + Nor Cytherea's fading bloom, + Be objects of my prayer: + Let av'rice, vanity, and pride, + Those envy'd glitt'ring toys divide, + The dull rewards of care. + + VII. + To me thy better gifts impart, + Each moral beauty of the heart, + By studious thought refin'd; + For wealth, the smile of glad content; + For pow'r, its amplest, best extent, + An empire o'er my mind. + + VIII. + When Fortune drops her gay parade. + When Pleasure's transient roses fade, + And wither in the tomb, + Unchang'd is thy immortal prize; + Thy ever-verdant laurels rise + In undecaying bloom. + + IX. + By thee protected, I defy + The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie + Of ignorance and spite: + Alike contemn the leaden fool, + And all the pointed ridicule + Of undiscerning wit. + + X. + From envy, hurry, noise, and strife, + The dull impertinence of life, + In thy retreat I rest: + Pursue thee to the peaceful groves, + Where Plato's sacred spirit roves, + In all thy beauties drest. + + XI. + He bad Ilyssus' tuneful stream + Convey thy philosophic theme + Of perfect, fair, and good: + Attentive Athens caught the sound, + And all her list'ning sons around + In awful silence stood. + + XII. + Reclaim'd her wild licentious youth, + Confess'd the potent voice of Truth, + And felt its just controul. + The Passions ceas'd their loud alarms, + And Virtue's soft persuasive charms + O'er all their senses stole. + + XIII. + Thy breath inspires the Poet's song + The Patriot's free, unbiass'd tongue, + The Hero's gen'rous strife; + Thine are retirement's silent joys, + And all the sweet engaging ties + Of still, domestic life. + + XIV. + No more to fabled names confin'd; + To Thee supreme, all perfect mind, + My thought direct their flight. + Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force + From thee deriv'd, Eternal source + Of Intellectual Light! + + XV. + O send her sure, her steady ray, + To regulate my doubtful way, + Thro' life's perplexing road: + The mists of error to controul, + And thro' its gloom direct my soul + To happiness and good. + + XVI. + Beneath her clear discerning eye + The visionary shadows fly + Of Folly's painted show. + She sees thro' ev'ry fair disguise, + That all but Virtue's solid joys, + Is vanity and woe. +</pre> + <p> + [Facsimile of the music to "The Ode to Wisdom" (verse 14).] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY MIDNIGHT. + </h3> + <p> + I have now a calmer moment. Envy, ambition, high and selfish resentment, + and all the violent passions, are now, most probably, asleep all around + me; and shall now my own angry ones give way to the silent hour, and + subside likewise?—They have given way to it; and I have made use of + the gentler space to re-peruse your last letters. I will touch upon some + passages in them. And that I may the less endanger the but-just recovered + calm, I will begin with what you write about Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + Give me leave to say, That I am sorry you cannot yet persuade yourself to + think better, that is to say, more justly, of that gentleman, than your + whimsical picture of him shews you so; or, at least, than the + humourousness of your natural vein would make one think you do. + </p> + <p> + I do not imagine, that you yourself will say, he sat for the picture you + have drawn. And yet, upon the whole, it is not greatly to his + disadvantage. Were I at ease in my mind, I would venture to draw a much + more amiable and just likeness. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Hickman has not that assurance which some men have, he has that + humility and gentleness which many want: and which, with the infinite + value he has for you, will make him one of the fittest husbands in the + world for a person of your vivacity and spirit. + </p> + <p> + Although you say I would not like him myself, I do assure you, if Mr. + Solmes were such a man as Mr. Hickman, in person, mind, and behaviour, my + friends and I had never disagreed about him, if they would not have + permitted me to live single; Mr. Lovelace (having such a character as he + has) would have stood no chance with me. This I can the more boldly aver, + because I plainly perceive, that of the two passions, love and fear, this + man will be able to inspire one with a much greater proportion of the + latter, than I imagine is compatible with the former, to make a happy + marriage. + </p> + <p> + I am glad you own, that you like no one better than Mr. Hickman. In a + little while, I make no doubt, you will be able, if you challenge your + heart upon it, to acknowledge, that you like not any man so well: + especially, when you come to consider, that the very faults you find in + Mr. Hickman, admirably fit him to make you happy: that is to say, if it be + necessary to your happiness, that you should have your own will in every + thing. + </p> + <p> + But let me add one thing: and that is this:—You have such a + sprightly turn, that, with your admirable talents, you would make any man + in the world, who loved you, look like a fool, except he were such a one + as Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, my dear, for my frankness: and forgive me, also, for so soon + returning to subject so immediately relative to myself, as those I now + must touch upon. + </p> + <p> + You again insist (strengthened by Mr. Lovelace's opinion) upon my assuming + my own estate [I cannot call it resuming, having never been in possession + of it]: and I have given you room to expect, that I will consider this + subject more closely than I have done before. I must however own, that the + reasons which I had to offer against taking your advice were so obvious, + that I thought you would have seen them yourself, and been determined by + them, against your own hastier counsel.—But since this has not been + so, and that both you and Mr. Lovelace call upon me to assume my own + estate, I will enter briefly into the subject. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, let me ask you, my dear, supposing I were inclined to + follow your advice, Whom have I to support me in my demand? My uncle + Harlowe is one of my trustees—he is against me. My cousin Morden is + the other—he is in Italy, and very probably may be set against me + too. My brother has declared, that they are resolved to carry their points + before he arrives: so that, as they drive on, all will probably be decided + before I can have an answer from him, were I to write: and, confined as I + am, were the answer to come in time, and they did not like it, they would + keep it from me. + </p> + <p> + In the next place, parents have great advantages in every eye over the + child, if she dispute their pleasure in the disposing of her: and so they + ought; since out of twenty instances, perhaps two could not be produced, + when they were not in the right, the child in the wrong. + </p> + <p> + You would not, I am sure, have me accept of Mr. Lovelace's offered + assistance in such a claim. If I would embrace any other person's, who + else would care to appear for a child against parents, ever, till of late, + so affectionate?==But were such a protector to be found, what a length of + time would it take up in a course of litigation! The will and the deeds + have flaws in them, they say. My brother sometimes talks of going to + reside at The Grove: I suppose, with a design to make ejectments + necessary, were I to offer at assuming; or, were I to marry Mr. Lovelace, + in order to give him all the opposition and difficulty the law would help + him to give. + </p> + <p> + These cases I have put to myself, for argument-sake: but they are all out + of the question, although any body were to be found who would espouse my + cause: for I do assure you, I would sooner beg my bread, than litigate for + my right with my father: since I am convinced, that whether the parent do + his duty by the child or not, the child cannot be excused from doing hers + to him. And to go to law with my father, what a sound has that! You will + see, that I have mentioned my wish (as an alternative, and as a favour) to + be permitted, if I must be put out of his house, to go thither: but not + one step further can I go. And you see how this is resented. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, then, what have I to hope for, but a change in my father's + resolution?—And is there any probability of that; such an ascendancy + as my brother and sister have obtained over every body; and such an + interest to pursue the enmity they have now openly avowed against me? + </p> + <p> + As to Mr. Lovelace's approbation of your assumption-scheme, I wonder not + at. He very probably penetrates the difficulties I should have to bring it + to effect, without his assistance. Were I to find myself as free as I + would wish myself to be, perhaps Mr. Lovelace would stand a worse chance + with me than his vanity may permit him to imagine; notwithstanding the + pleasure you take in rallying me on his account. How know you, but all + that appears to be specious and reasonable in his offers; such as, + standing his chance for my favour, after I became independent, as I may + call it [by which I mean no more, than to have the liberty of refusing for + my husband a man whom it hurts me but to think of in that light]; and such + as his not visiting me but by my leave; and till Mr. Morden come; and till + I am satisfied of his reformation;—How know you, I say, that he + gives not himself these airs purely to stand better in your graces as well + as mine, by offering of his own accord conditions which he must needs + think would be insisted on, were the case to happen? + </p> + <p> + Then am I utterly displeased with him. To threaten as he threatens; yet to + pretend, that it is not to intimidate me; and to beg of you not to tell + me, when he must know you would, and no doubt intended that you should, is + so meanly artful!—The man must think he has a frightened fool to + deal with.—I, to join hands with such a man of violence! my own + brother the man whom he threatens!—And what has Mr. Solmes done to + him?—Is he to be blamed, if he thinks a person would make a wife + worth having, to endeavour to obtain her?—Oh that my friends would + but leave me to my own way in this one point! For have I given the man + encouragement sufficient to ground these threats upon? Were Mr. Solmes a + man to whom I could but be indifferent, it might be found, that to have + spirit, would very little answer the views of that spirit. It is my + fortune to be treated as a fool by my brother: but Mr. Lovelace shall find—Yet + I will let him know my mind; and then it will come with a better grace to + your knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, give me leave to tell you, that it goes against me, in my + cooler moments, unnatural as my brother is to me, to have you, my dear, + who are my other self, write such very severe reflections upon him, in + relation to the advantage Lovelace had over him. He is not indeed your + brother: but remember, that you write to his sister.—Upon my word, + my dear Miss Howe, you dip your pen in gall whenever you are offended: and + I am almost ready to question, whether I read some of your expressions + against others of my relations as well as him, (although in my favour,) + whether you are so thoroughly warranted to call other people to account + for their warmth. Should we not be particularly careful to keep clear of + the faults we censure?—And yet I am so angry both at my brother and + sister, that I should not have taken this liberty with my dear friend, + notwithstanding I know you never loved them, had you not made so light of + so shocking a transaction where a brother's life was at stake: when his + credit in the eye of the mischievous sex has received a still deeper wound + than he personally sustained; and when a revival of the same wicked + resentments (which may end more fatally) is threatened. + </p> + <p> + His credit, I say, in the eye of the mischievous sex: Who is not warranted + to call it so; when it is re (as the two libertines his companions + gloried) to resolve never to give a challenge; and among whom duelling is + so fashionable a part of brutal bravery, that the man of temper, who is, + mostly, I believe, the truly brave man, is often at a loss so to behave as + to avoid incurring either a mortal guilt, or a general contempt? + </p> + <p> + To enlarge a little upon this subject, May we not infer, that those who + would be guilty of throwing these contempts upon a man of temper, who + would rather pass by a verbal injury, than to imbrue his hands in blood, + know not the measure of true magnanimity? nor how much nobler it is to + forgive, and even how much more manly to despise, than to resent, an + injury? Were I a man, methinks, I should have too much scorn for a person, + who could wilfully do me a mean wrong, to put a value upon his life, equal + to what I put upon my own. What an absurdity, because a man had done me a + small injury, that I should put it in his power (at least, to an equal + risque) to do me, and those who love me, an irreparable one!—Were it + not a wilful injury, nor avowed to be so, there could not be room for + resentment. + </p> + <p> + How willingly would I run away from myself, and what most concerns myself, + if I could! This digression brings me back again to the occasion of it—and + that to the impatience I was in, when I ended my last letter, for my + situation is not altered. I renew, therefore, my former earnestness, as + the new day approaches, and will bring with it perhaps new trials, that + you will (as undivestedly as possible of favour or resentment) tell me + what you would have me do:—for, if I am obliged to go to my uncle + Antony's, all, I doubt, will be over with me. Yet how to avoid it—that's + the difficulty! + </p> + <p> + I shall deposit this the first thing. When you have it, lose no time, I + pray you, to advise (lest it be too late) + </p> + <p> + Your ever obliged CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SATURDAY, MARCH 25. + </h3> + <p> + What can I advise you to do, my noble creature? Your merit is your crime. + You can no more change your nature, than your persecutors can theirs. Your + distress is owing to the vast disparity between you and them. What would + you have of them? Do they not act in character?—And to whom? To an + alien. You are not one of them. They have two dependencies in their hope + to move you to compliance.—Upon their impenetrableness one [I'd give + it a more proper name, if I dared]; the other, on the regard you have + always had for your character, [Have they not heretofore owned as much?] + and upon your apprehensions from that of Lovelace, which would discredit + you, should you take any step by his means to extricate yourself. Then + they know, that resentment and unpersuadableness are not natural to you; + and that the anger they have wrought you up to, will subside, as all + extraordinaries soon do; and that once married, you will make the best of + it. + </p> + <p> + But surely your father's son and eldest daughter have a view (by + communicating to so narrow a soul all they know of your just aversion to + him) to entail unhappiness for life upon you, were you to have the man who + is already more nearly related to them, than ever he can be to you, + although the shocking compulsion should take place. + </p> + <p> + As to that wretch's perseverance, those only, who know not the man, will + wonder at it. He has not the least delicacy. His principal view in + marriage is not to the mind. How shall those beauties be valued, which + cannot be comprehended? Were you to be his, and shew a visible want of + tenderness to him, it is my opinion, he would not be much concerned at it. + I have heard you well observe, from your Mrs. Norton, That a person who + has any over-ruling passion, will compound by giving up twenty secondary + or under-satisfactions, though more laudable ones, in order to have that + gratified. + </p> + <p> + I'll give you the substance of a conversation [no fear you can be made to + like him worse than you do already] that passed between Sir Harry Downeton + and this Solmes, but three days ago, as Sir Harry told it but yesterday to + my mother and me. It will confirm to you that what your sister's insolent + Betty reported he should say, of governing by fear, was not of her own + head. + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry told her, he wondered he should wish to obtain you so much + against you inclination as every body knew it would be, if he did. + </p> + <p> + He matter'd not that, he said: coy maids made the fondest wives: [A sorry + fellow!] It would not at all grieve him to see a pretty woman make wry + faces, if she gave him cause to vex her. And your estate, by the + convenience of its situation, would richly pay him for all he could bear + with your shyness. + </p> + <p> + He should be sure, he said, after a while, of your complaisance, if not of + your love: and in that should be happier than nine parts in ten of his + married acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + What a wretch is this! + </p> + <p> + For the rest, your known virtue would be as great a security to him, as he + could wish for. + </p> + <p> + She will look upon you, said Sir Harry, if she be forced to marry you, as + Elizabeth of France did upon Philip II. of Spain, when he received her on + his frontiers as her husband, who was to have been but her father-in-law: + that is, with fear and terror, rather than with complaisance and love: and + you will perhaps be as surly to her, as that old monarch was to his young + bride. + </p> + <p> + Fear and terror, the wretch, the horrid wretch! said, looked pretty in a + bride as well as in a wife: and, laughing, [yes, my dear, the hideous + fellow laughed immoderately, as Sir Harry told us, when he said it,] it + should be his care to perpetuate the occasion for that fear, if he could + not think he had the love. And, truly, he was of opinion, that if LOVE and + FEAR must be separated in matrimony, the man who made himself feared, + fared best. + </p> + <p> + If my eyes would carry with them the execution which the eyes of the + basilisk are said to do, I would make it my first business to see this + creature. + </p> + <p> + My mother, however, says, it would be a prodigious merit in you, if you + could get over your aversion to him. Where, asks she [as you have been + asked before], is the praise-worthiness of obedience, if it be only paid + in instance where we give up nothing? + </p> + <p> + What a fatality, that you have no better an option—either a Scylla + or a Charybdis. + </p> + <p> + Were it not you, I should know how (barbarously as you are used) to advise + you in a moment. But such a noble character to suffer from a (supposed) + rashness and indiscretion of such a nature, would, as I have heretofore + observed, be a wound to the sex. + </p> + <p> + While I was in hope, that the asserting of your own independence would + have helped you, I was pleased that you had one resource, as I thought. + But now, that you have so well proved, that such a step would not avail + you, I am entirely at a loss what to say. + </p> + <p> + I will lay down my pen, and think. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I have considered, and considered again; but, I protest, I know no more + what to say now, than before. Only this: That I am young, like yourself; + and have a much weaker judgment, and stronger passions, than you have. + </p> + <p> + I have heretofore said, that you have offered as much as you ought, in + offering to live single. If you were never to marry, the estate they are + so loth should go out of their name, would, in time, I suppose, revert to + your brother: and he or his would have it, perhaps, much more certainly + this way, than by the precarious reversions which Solmes makes them hope + for. Have you put this into their odd heads, my dear?—The tyrant + word AUTHORITY, as they use it, can be the only objection against this + offer. + </p> + <p> + One thing you must consider, that, if you leave your parents, your duty + and love will not suffer you to justify yourself by an appeal against + them; and so you'll have the world against you. And should Lovelace + continue his wild life, and behave ungratefully to you, will not his + baseness seem to justify their cruel treatment of you, as well as their + dislike of him? + </p> + <p> + May heaven direct you for the best!—I can only say, that for my own + part, I would do any thing, go any where, rather than be compelled to + marry the man I hate; and (were he such a man as Solmes) must always hate. + Nor could I have borne what you have borne, if from father and uncles, not + from brother and sister. + </p> + <p> + My mother will have it, that after they have tried their utmost efforts to + bring you into their measures, and find them ineffectual, they will + recede. But I cannot say I am of her mind. She does not own, she has any + authority for this, but her own conjecture. I should otherwise have hoped, + that your uncle Antony and she had been in on one secret, and that + favourable to you. Woe be to one of them at least [to you uncle to be sure + I mean] if they should be in any other! + </p> + <p> + You must, if possible, avoid being carried to that uncle's. The man, the + parson, your brother and sister present!—They'll certainly there + marry you to the wretch. Nor will your newly-raised spirit support you in + your resistance on such an occasion. Your meekness will return; and you + will have nothing for it but tears [tears despised by them all] and + ineffectual appeals and lamentations: and these tears when the ceremony is + profaned, you must suddenly dry up; and endeavour to dispose of yourself + to such a humble frame of mind, as may induce your new-made lord to + forgive all your past declarations of aversion. + </p> + <p> + In short, my dear, you must then blandish him over with a confession, that + all your past behaviour was maidenly reserve only: and it will be your + part to convince him of the truth of his imprudent sarcasm, that the + coyest maids make the fondest wives. Thus will you enter the state with a + high sense of obligation to his forgiving goodness: and if you will not be + kept to it by that fear, by which he proposes to govern, I am much + mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Yet, after all, I must leave the point undetermined, and only to be + determined, as you find they recede from their avowed purpose, or resolve + to remove you to your uncle Antony's. But I must repeat my wishes, that + something may fall out, that neither of these men may call you his!—And + may you live single, my dearest friend, till some man shall offer, that + may be as worthy of you, as man can be! + </p> + <p> + But yet, methinks, I would not, that you, who are so admirably qualified + to adorn the married state, should be always single. You know I am + incapable of flattery; and that I always speak and write the sincerest + dictates of my heart. Nor can you, from what you must know of your own + merit (taken only in a comparative light with others) doubt my sincerity. + For why should a person who delight to find out and admire every thing + that is praise-worthy in another, be supposed ignorant of like perfections + in herself, when she could not so much admire them in another, if she had + them not herself? And why may not I give her those praises, which she + would give to any other, who had but half of her excellencies?—Especially + when she is incapable of pride and vain-glory; and neither despises others + for the want of her fine qualities, nor overvalues herself upon them?—Over-values, + did I say!—How can that be? + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, my beloved friend. My admiration of you (increased, as it is, + by every letter you write) will not always be held down in silence; + although, in order to avoid offending you, I generally endeavour to keep + it from flowing to my pen, when I write to you, or to my lips, whenever I + have the happiness to be in your company. + </p> + <p> + I will add nothing (though I could add a hundred things on account of your + latest communications) but that I am + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and faithful ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + I hope I have pleased you with my dispatch. I wish I had been able to + please you with my requested advice. + </p> + <p> + You have given new beauties to the charming Ode which you have transmitted + to me. What pity that the wretches you have to deal with, put you out of + your admirable course; in the pursuit of which, like the sun, you was wont + to cheer and illuminate all you shone upon! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY MORNING, MARCH 26. + </h3> + <p> + How soothing a thing is praise from those we love!—Whether conscious + or not of deserving it, it cannot but give us great delight, to see + ourselves stand high in the opinion of those whose favour we are ambitious + to cultivate. An ingenuous mind will make this farther use of it, that if + he be sensible that it does not already deserve the charming attributes, + it will hasten (before its friend finds herself mistaken) to obtain the + graces it is complimented for: and this it will do, as well in honour to + itself, as to preserve its friend's opinion, and justify her judgment. May + this be always my aim!—And then you will not only give the praise, + but the merit; and I shall be more worthy of that friendship, which is the + only pleasure I have to boast of. + </p> + <p> + Most heartily I thank you for the kind dispatch of your last favour. How + much am I indebted to you! and even to your honest servant!—Under + what obligations does my unhappy situation lay me! + </p> + <p> + But let me answer the kind contents of it, as well as I may. + </p> + <p> + As to getting over my disgusts to Mr. Solmes, it is impossible to be done; + while he wants generosity, frankness of heart, benevolence, manners and + every qualification that distinguishes the worthy man. O my dear! what a + degree of patience, what a greatness of soul, is required in the wife, not + to despise a husband who is more ignorant, more illiterate, more + low-minded than herself!—The wretch, vested with prerogatives, who + will claim rule in virtue of them (and not to permit whose claim, will be + as disgraceful to the prescribing wife as to the governed husband); How + shall such a husband as this be borne, were he, for reasons of convenience + and interest, even to be our CHOICE? But, to be compelled to have such a + one, and that compulsion to arise from motives as unworthy of the + prescribers as of the prescribed, who can think of getting over an + aversion so justly founded? How much easier to bear the temporary + persecutions I labour under, because temporary, than to resolve to be such + a man's for life? Were I to comply, must I not leave my relations, and go + to him? A month will decide the one, perhaps: But what a duration of woe + will the other be!—Every day, it is likely, rising to witness to + some new breach of an altar-vowed duty! + </p> + <p> + Then, my dear, the man seems already to be meditating vengeance against me + for an aversion I cannot help: for yesterday my saucy gaoleress assured + me, that all my oppositions would not signify that pinch of snuff, holding + out her genteel finger and thumb: that I must have Mr. Solmes: that + therefore I had not best carry my jest too far; for that Mr. Solmes was a + man of spirit, and had told HER, that as I should surely be his, I acted + very unpolitely; since, if he had not more mercy [that was her word, I + know not if it were his] than I had, I might have cause to repent the + usage I gave him to the last day of my life. But enough of this man; who, + by what you repeat from Sir Harry Downeton, has all the insolence of his + sex, without any one quality to make that insolence tolerable. + </p> + <p> + I have receive two letters from Mr. Lovelace, since his visit to you; + which make three that I have not answered. I doubt not his being very + uneasy; but in his last he complains in high terms of my silence; not in + the still small voice, or rather style of an humble lover, but in a style + like that which would probably be used by a slighted protector. And his + pride is again touched, that like a thief, or eves-dropper, he is forced + to dodge about in hopes of a letter, and returns five miles (and then to + an inconvenient lodging) without any. + </p> + <p> + His letters and the copy of mine to him, shall soon attend you. Till when, + I will give you the substance of what I wrote him yesterday. + </p> + <p> + I take him severely to task for his freedom in threatening me, through + you, with a visit to Mr. Solmes, or to my brother. I say, 'That, surely, I + must be thought to be a creature fit to bear any thing; that violence and + menaces from some of my own family are not enough for me to bear, in order + to make me avoid him; but that I must have them from him too, if I oblige + those to whom it is both my inclination and duty to oblige in every thing + that is reasonable, and in my power. + </p> + <p> + 'Very extraordinary, I tell him, that a violent spirit shall threaten to + do a rash and unjustifiable thing, which concerns me but a little, and + himself a great deal, if I do not something as rash, my character and sex + considered, to divert him from it. + </p> + <p> + 'I even hint, that, however it would affect me, were any mischief to + happen on my own account, yet there are persons, as far as I know, who in + my case would not think there would be reason for much regret, were such a + committed rashness as he threatens Mr. Solmes with, to rid her of two + persons whom, had she never known, she had never been unhappy.' + </p> + <p> + This is plain-dealing, my dear: and I suppose he will put it into still + plainer English for me. + </p> + <p> + I take his pride to task, on his disdaining to watch for my letters; and + for his eves-dropping language: and say, 'That, surely, he has the less + reason to think so hardly of his situation; since his faulty morals are + the cause of all; and since faulty morals deservedly level all + distinction, and bring down rank and birth to the canaille, and to the + necessity which he so much regrets, of appearing (if I must descent to his + language) as an eves-dropper and a thief. And then I forbid him ever to + expect another letter from me that is to subject him to such disgraceful + hardships. + </p> + <p> + 'As to the solemn vows and protestations he is so ready, upon all + occasions, to make, they have the less weight with me, I tell him, as they + give a kind of demonstration, that he himself, from his own character, + thinks there is reason to make them. Deeds are to me the only evidence of + intentions. And I am more and more convinced of the necessity of breaking + off a correspondence with a person, whose addresses I see it is impossible + either to expect my friends to encourage, or him to appear to wish that + they should think him worthy of encouragement. + </p> + <p> + 'What therefore I repeatedly desire is, That since his birth, alliances, + and expectations, are such as will at any time, if his immoral character + be not an objection, procure him at least equal advantages in a woman + whose taste and inclinations moreover might be better adapted to his own; + I insist upon it, as well as advise it, that he give up all thoughts of + me: and the rather, as he has all along (by his threatening and unpolite + behaviour to my friends, and whenever he speaks of them) given me reason + to conclude, that there is more malice in them, than regard to me, in his + perseverance.' + </p> + <p> + This is the substance of the letter I have written to him. + </p> + <p> + The man, to be sure, must have the penetration to observe, that my + correspondence with him hitherto is owing more to the severity I meet + with, than to a very high value for him. And so I would have him think. + What a worse than moloch deity is that, which expects an offering of + reason, duty, and discretion, to be made to its shrine! + </p> + <p> + Your mother is of opinion, you say, that at last my friends will relent. + Heaven grant that they may!—But my brother and sister have such an + influence over every body, and are so determined; so pique themselves upon + subduing me, and carrying their point; that I despair that they will. And + yet, if they do not, I frankly own, I would not scruple to throw myself + upon any not disreputable protection, by which I might avoid my present + persecutions, on one hand, and not give Mr. Lovelace advantage over me, on + the other—that is to say, were there manifestly no other way left + me: for, if there were, I should think the leaving my father's house, + without his consent, one of the most inexcusable actions I could be guilty + of, were the protection to be ever so unexceptionable; and this + notwithstanding the independent fortune willed me by my grandfather. And + indeed I have often reflected with a degree of indignation and disdain, + upon the thoughts of what a low, selfish creature that child must be, who + is to be reined in only by the hopes of what a parent can or will do for + her. + </p> + <p> + But notwithstanding all this, I owe it to the sincerity of friendship to + confess, that I know not what I should have done, had your advice been + conclusive any way. Had you, my dear, been witness to my different + emotions, as I read your letter, when, in one place, you advise me of my + danger, if I am carried to my uncle's; in another, when you own you could + not bear what I bear, and would do any thing rather than marry the man you + hate; yet, in another, to represent to me my reputation suffering in the + world's eye; and the necessity I should be under to justify my conduct, at + the expense of my friends, were I to take a rash step; in another, + insinuate the dishonest figure I should be forced to make, in so compelled + a matrimony; endeavouring to cajole, fawn upon, and play the hypocrite + with a man to whom I have an aversion; who would have reason to believe me + an hypocrite, as well from my former avowals, as from the sense he must + have (if common sense he has) of his own demerits; the necessity you think + there would be for me, the more averse (were I capable of so much + dissimulation) that would be imputable to disgraceful motives; as it would + be too visible, that love, either of person or mind, could be neither of + them: then his undoubted, his even constitutional narrowness: his too + probably jealousy, and unforgiveness, bearing in my mind my declared + aversion, and the unfeigned despights I took all opportunities to do him, + in order to discourage his address: a preference avowed against him from + the same motive; with the pride he professes to take in curbing and + sinking the spirits of a woman he had acquired a right to tyrannize over: + had you, I say, been witness of my different emotions as I read; now + leaning this way, now that; now perplexed; now apprehensive; now angry at + one, then at another; now resolving; now doubting; you would have seen the + power you have over me; and would have had reason to believe, that, had + you given your advice in any determined or positive manner, I had been + ready to have been concluded by it. So, my dear, you will find, from these + acknowledgements, that you must justify me to those laws of friendship, + which require undisguised frankness of heart; although you justification + of me in that particular, will perhaps be at the expense of my prudence. + </p> + <p> + But, upon the whole, this I do repeat—That nothing but the last + extremity shall make me abandon my father's house, if they will permit me + to stay; and if I can, by any means, by any honest pretences, but keep off + my evil destiny in it till my cousin Morden arrives. As one of my + trustees, his is a protection, into which I may without discredit throw + myself, if my other friends should remain determined. And this (although + they seem too well aware of it) is all my hope: for, as to Lovelace, were + I to be sure of his tenderness, and even of his reformation, must not the + thought of embracing the offered protection of his family, be the same + thing, in the world's eye, as accepting of his own?—Could I avoid + receiving his visits at his own relations'? Must I not be his, whatever, + (on seeing him in a nearer light,) I should find him out to be? For you + know, it has always been my observation, that very few people in courtship + see each other as they are. Oh! my dear! how wise have I endeavoured to + be! How anxious to choose, and to avoid every thing, precautiously, as I + may say, that might make me happy, or unhappy; yet all my wisdom now, by a + strange fatality, is likely to become foolishness! + </p> + <p> + Then you tell me, in your usual kindly-partial manner, what is expected of + me, more than would be of some others. This should be a lesson to me. What + ever my motives were, the world would not know them. To complain of a + brother's unkindness, that, indeed, I might do. Differences between + brothers and sisters, where interests clash, but too commonly arise: but, + where the severe father cannot be separated from the faulty brother, who + could bear to lighten herself, by loading a father?—Then, in this + particular case, must not the hatred Mr. Lovelace expresses to every one + of my family (although in return for their hatred of him) shock one + extremely? Must it not shew, that there is something implacable, as well + as highly unpolite in his temper?—And what creature can think of + marrying so as to be out of all hopes ever to be well with her own nearest + and tenderest relations? + </p> + <p> + But here, having tired myself, and I dare say you, I will lay down my pen. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mr. Solmes is almost continually here: so is my aunt Hervey: so are my two + uncles. Something is working against me, I doubt. What an uneasy state is + suspense!—When a naked sword, too, seems hanging over one's head! + </p> + <p> + I hear nothing but what this confident creature Betty throws out in the + wantonness of office. Now it is, Why, Miss, don't you look up your things? + You'll be called upon, depend upon it, before you are aware. Another time + she intimates darkly, and in broken sentences, (as if on purpose to tease + me,) what one says, what another; with their inquiries how I dispose of my + time? And my brother's insolent question comes frequently in, Whether I am + not writing a history of my sufferings? + </p> + <p> + But I am now used to her pertness: and as it is only through that that I + can hear of any thing intended against me, before it is to be put in + execution; and as, when she is most impertinent, she pleads a commission + for it; I bear with her: yet, now-and-then, not without a little of the + heart-burn. + </p> + <p> + I will deposit thus far. Adieu, my dear. CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + Written on the cover, after she went down, with a pencil: + </p> + <p> + On coming down, I found your second letter of yesterday's date.* I have + read it; and am in hopes that the enclosed will in a great measure answer + your mother's expectations of me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See the next letter. +</pre> + <p> + My most respectful acknowledgements to her for it, and for her very kind + admonitions. + </p> + <p> + You'll read to her what you please of the enclosed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SAT. MARCH 25. + </h3> + <p> + I follow my last of this date by command. I mentioned in my former my + mother's opinion of the merit you would have, if you could oblige your + friends against your own inclination. Our conference upon this subject was + introduced by the conversation we had had with Sir Harry Downeton; and my + mother thinks it of so much importance, that she enjoins me to give you + the particulars of it. I the rather comply, as I was unable in my last to + tell what to advise you to; and as you will in this recital have my + mother's opinion at least, and, perhaps, in hers what the world's would + be, were it only to know what she knows, and not so much as I know. + </p> + <p> + My mother argues upon this case in a most discouraging manner for all such + of our sex as look forward for happiness in marriage with the man of their + choice. + </p> + <p> + Only, that I know, she has a side-view of her daughter; who, at the same + time that she now prefers no one to another, values not the man her mother + most regards, of one farthing; or I should lay it more to heart. + </p> + <p> + What is there in it, says she, that all this bustle is about? Is it such a + mighty matter for a young woman to give up her inclinations to oblige her + friends? + </p> + <p> + Very well, my mamma, thought I! Now, may you ask this—at FORTY, you + may. But what would you have said at EIGHTEEN, is the question? + </p> + <p> + Either, said she, the lady must be thought to have very violent + inclinations [And what nice young creature would have that supposed?] + which she could not give up; or a very stubborn will, which she would not; + or, thirdly, have parents she was indifferent about obliging. + </p> + <p> + You know my mother now-and-then argues very notably; always very warmly at + least. I happen often to differ from her; and we both think so well of our + own arguments, that we very seldom are so happy as to convince one + another. A pretty common case, I believe, in all vehement debatings. She + says, I am too witty; Angelice, too pert: I, That she is too wise; that is + to say, being likewise put into English, not so young as she has been: in + short, is grown so much into mother, that she has forgotten she ever was a + daughter. So, generally, we call another cause by consent—yet fall + into the old one half a dozen times over, without consent—quitting + and resuming, with half-angry faces, forced into a smile, that there might + be some room to piece together again: but go a-bed, if bedtime, a little + sullen nevertheless: or, if we speak, her silence is broken with an Ah! + Nancy! You are so lively! so quick! I wish you were less like your papa, + child! + </p> + <p> + I pay it off with thinking, that my mother has no reason to disclaim her + share in her Nancy: and if the matter go off with greater severity on her + side than I wish for, then her favourite Hickman fares the worse for it + next day. + </p> + <p> + I know I am a saucy creature. I know, if I do not say so, you will think + so. So no more of this just now. What I mention it for, is to tell you, + that on this serious occasion I will omit, if I can, all that passed + between us, that had an air of flippancy on my part, or quickness on my + mother's, to let you into the cool and cogent of the conversation. + </p> + <p> + 'Look through the families, said she, which we both know, where the man + and the woman have been said to marry for love; which (at the time it is + so called) is perhaps no more than a passion begun in folly or + thoughtlessness, and carried on from a spirit of perverseness and + opposition [here we had a parenthetical debate, which I omit]; and see, if + they appear to be happier than those whose principal inducement to marry + has been convenience, or to oblige their friends; or ever whether they are + generally so happy: for convenience and duty, where observed, will afford + a permanent and even an increasing satisfaction (as well at the time, as + upon the reflection) which seldom fail to reward themselves: while love, + if love be the motive, is an idle passion' [idle in ONE SENSE my mother + cannot say; for love is as busy as a monkey, and as mischievous as a + school-boy]—'it is a fervour, that, like all other fervours, lasts + but a little while after marriage; a bow overstrained, that soon returns + to its natural bent. + </p> + <p> + 'As it is founded generally upon mere notional excellencies, which were + unknown to the persons themselves till attributed to either by the other; + one, two, or three months, usually sets all right on both sides; and then + with opened eyes they think of each other—just as every body else + thought of them before. + </p> + <p> + 'The lovers imaginaries [her own notable word!] are by that time gone off; + nature and old habits (painfully dispensed with or concealed) return: + disguises thrown aside, all the moles, freckles, and defects in the minds + of each discover themselves; and 'tis well if each do not sink in the + opinion of the other, as much below the common standard, as the blinded + imagination of both had set them above it. And now, said she, the fond + pair, who knew no felicity out of each other's company, are so far from + finding the never-ending variety each had proposed in an unrestrained + conversation with the other (when they seldom were together; and always + parted with something to say; or, on recollection, when parted, wishing + they had said); that they are continually on the wing in pursuit of + amusements out of themselves; and those, concluded my sage mamma, [Did you + think her wisdom so very modern?] will perhaps be the livelier to each, in + which the other has no share.' + </p> + <p> + I told my mother, that if you were to take any rash step, it would be + owing to the indiscreet violence of your friends. I was afraid, I said, + that these reflection upon the conduct of people in the married state, who + might set out with better hopes, were but too well grounded: but that this + must be allowed me, that if children weighed not these matters so + thoroughly as they ought, neither did parents make those allowances for + youth, inclination, and inexperience, which had been found necessary to be + made for themselves at their children's time of life. + </p> + <p> + I remembered a letter, I told her, hereupon, which you wrote a few months + ago, personating an anonymous elderly lady (in Mr. Wyerley's day of + plaguing you) to Miss Drayton's mother, who, by her severity and + restraints, had like to have driven the young lady into the very fault + against which her mother was most solicitous to guard her. And I dared to + say, she would be pleased with it. + </p> + <p> + I fetched the first draught of it, which at my request you obliged me at + the time; and read the whole letter to my mother. But the following + passage she made me read twice. I think you once told me you had not a + copy of this letter. + </p> + <p> + 'Permit me, Madam, [says the personated grave writer,] to observe, That if + persons of your experience would have young people look forward, in order + to be wiser and better by their advice, it would be kind in them to look + backward, and allow for their children's youth, and natural vivacity; in + other words, for their lively hopes, unabated by time, unaccompanied by + reflection, and unchecked by disappointment. Things appear to us all in a + very different light at our entrance upon a favourite party, or tour; + when, with golden prospects, and high expectations, we rise vigorous and + fresh like the sun beginning its morning course; from what they do, when + we sit down at the end of our views, tired, and preparing for our journey + homeward: for then we take into our reflection, what we had left out in + prospect, the fatigues, the checks, the hazards, we had met with; and make + a true estimate of pleasures, which from our raised expectations must + necessarily have fallen miserably short of what we had promised ourselves + at setting out. Nothing but experience can give us a strong and + efficacious conviction of this difference: and when we would inculcate the + fruits of that upon the minds of those we love, who have not lived long + enough to find those fruits; and would hope, that our advice should have + as much force upon them, as experience has upon us; and which, perhaps, + our parents' advice had not upon ourselves, at our daughter' time of life; + should we not proceed by patient reasoning and gentleness, that we may not + harden, where we would convince? For, Madam, the tenderest and most + generous minds, when harshly treated, become generally the most + inflexible. If the young lady knows her heart to be right, however + defective her head may be for want of age and experience, she will be apt + to be very tenacious. And if she believes her friends to be wrong, + although perhaps they may be only so in their methods of treating her, how + much will every unkind circumstance on the parent's part, or heedless one + on the child's, though ever so slight in itself, widen the difference! The + parent's prejudice in disfavour, will confirm the daughter's in favour, of + the same person; and the best reasonings in the world on either side, will + be attributed to that prejudice. In short, neither of them will be + convinced: a perpetual opposition ensues: the parent grows impatient; the + child desperate: and, as a too natural consequence, that falls out which + the mother was most afraid of, and which possibly had not happened, if the + child's passions had been only led, not driven.' + </p> + <p> + My mother was pleased with the whole letter; and said, It deserved to have + the success it met with. But asked me what excuse could be offered for a + young lady capable of making such reflections (and who at her time of life + could so well assume the character of one of riper years) if she should + rush into any fatal mistake herself? + </p> + <p> + She then touched upon the moral character of Mr. Lovelace; and how + reasonable the aversion of your reflections is to a man who gives himself + the liberties he is said to take; and who indeed himself denies not the + accusation; having been heard to declare, that he will do all the mischief + he can to the sex, in revenge for the ill usage and broken vows of his + first love, at a time when he was too young [his own expression it seems] + to be insincere. + </p> + <p> + I replied, that I had heard every one say, that the lady meant really used + him ill; that it affected him so much at the time, that he was forced to + travel upon it; and to drive her out of his heart, ran into courses which + he had ingenuousness enough himself to condemn: that, however, he had + denied that he had thrown out such menaces against the sex when charged + with them by me in your presence; and declared himself incapable of so + unjust and ungenerous a resentment against all, for the perfidy of one. + </p> + <p> + You remember this, my dear, as I do your innocent observation upon it, + that you could believe his solemn asseveration and denial: 'For surely, + said you, the man who would resent, as the highest indignity that could be + offered to a gentleman, the imputation of a wilful falsehood, would not be + guilty of one.' + </p> + <p> + I insisted upon the extraordinary circumstances in your case; + particularizing them. I took notice, that Mr. Lovelace's morals were at + one time no objection with your relations for Arabella: that then much was + built upon his family, and more upon his part and learning, which made it + out of doubt, that he might be reclaimed by a woman of virtue and + prudence: and [pray forgive me for mentioning it] I ventured to add, that + although your family might be good sort of folks, as the world went, yet + no body but you imputed to any of them a very punctilious concern for + religion or piety—therefore were they the less entitled to object to + defect of that kind in others. Then, what an odious man, said I, have they + picked out, to supplant in a lady's affections one of the finest figures + of a man, and one noted for his brilliant parts, and other + accomplishments, whatever his morals may be! + </p> + <p> + Still my mother insisted, that there was the greater merit in your + obedience on that account; and urged, that there hardly ever was a very + handsome and a very sprightly man who made a tender and affectionate + husband: for that they were generally such Narcissus's, as to imagine + every woman ought to think as highly of them, as they did of themselves. + </p> + <p> + There was no danger from that consideration here, I said, because the lady + still had greater advantages of person and mind, than the man; graceful + and elegant, as he must be allowed to be, beyond most of his sex. + </p> + <p> + She cannot endure to hear me praise any man but her favourite Hickman; + upon whom, nevertheless, she generally brings a degree of contempt which + he would escape, did she not lessen the little merit he has, by giving + him, on all occasions, more than I think he can deserve, and entering him + into comparisons in which it is impossible but he must be a sufferer. And + now [preposterous partiality!] she thought for her part, that Mr. Hickman, + bating that his face indeed was not so smooth, nor his complexion quite so + good, and saving that he was not so presuming and so bold (which ought to + be no fault with a modest woman) equaled Mr. Lovelace at any hour of the + day. + </p> + <p> + To avoid entering further into such an incomparable comparison, I said, I + did not believe, had they left you to your own way, and treated you + generously, that you would have had the thought of encouraging any man + whom they disliked— + </p> + <p> + Then, Nancy, catching me up, the excuse is less—for if so, must + there not be more of contradiction, than love, in the case? + </p> + <p> + Not so, neither, Madam: for I know Miss Clarissa Harlowe would prefer Mr. + Lovelace to all men, if morals— + </p> + <p> + IF, Nancy!—That if is every thing.—Do you really think she + loves Mr. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + What would you have had me say, my dear?—I won't tell you what I did + say: But had I not said what I did, who would have believed me? + </p> + <p> + Besides, I know you love him!—Excuse me, my dear: Yet, if you deny + it, what do you but reflect upon yourself, as if you thought you ought not + to allow yourself in what you cannot help doing? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Madam, said I, the man is worthy of any woman's love [if, again, I + could say]—But her parents— + </p> + <p> + Her parents, Nancy—[You know, my dear, how my mother, who accuses + her daughter of quickness, is evermore interrupting one!] + </p> + <p> + May take wrong measures, said I— + </p> + <p> + Cannot do wrong—they have reason, I'll warrant, said she— + </p> + <p> + By which they may provoke a young woman, said I, to do rash things, which + otherwise she would not do. + </p> + <p> + But, if it be a rash thing, [returned she,] should she do it? A prudent + daughter will not wilfully err, because her parents err, if they were to + err: if she do, the world which blames the parents, will not acquit the + child. All that can be said, in extenuation of a daughter's error in this + case, arises from a kind consideration, which Miss Clary's letter to Lady + Drayton pleads for, to be paid to her daughter's youth and inexperience. + And will such an admirable young person as Miss Clarissa Harlowe, whose + prudence, as we see, qualifies her to be an advisor of persons much older + than herself, take shelter under so poor a covert? + </p> + <p> + Let her know, Nancy, out of hand, what I say; and I charge you to + represent farther to her, That let he dislike one man and approve of + another ever so much, it will be expected of a young lady of her unbounded + generosity and greatness of mind, that she should deny herself when she + can oblige all her family by so doing—no less than ten or a dozen + perhaps the nearest and dearest to her of all the persons in the world, an + indulgent father and mother at the head of them. It may be fancy only on + her side; but parents look deeper: And will not Miss Clarissa Harlowe give + up her fancy to her parents' judgment? + </p> + <p> + I said a great deal upon this judgment subject: all that you could wish I + should say; and all that your extraordinary case allowed me to say. And my + mother was so sensible of the force of it, that she charged me not to + write to you any part of my answer to what she said; but only what she + herself had advanced; lest, in so critical a case, it should induce you to + take measures which might give us both reason (me for giving it, you for + following it) to repent it as long as we lived. + </p> + <p> + And thus, my dear, have I set my mother's arguments before you. And the + rather, as I cannot myself tell what to advise you to do—you know + best your own heart; and what that will let you do. + </p> + <p> + Robin undertakes to deposit this very early, that you may have an + opportunity to receive it by your first morning airing. + </p> + <p> + Heaven guide and direct you for the best, is the incessant prayer of + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY AFTERNOON + </h3> + <p> + I am in great apprehension. Yet cannot help repeating my humble thanks to + your mother and you for your last favour. I hope her kind end is answered + by the contents of my last. Yet I must not think it enough to acknowledge + her goodness to me, with a pencil only, on the cover of a letter sealed + up. A few lines give me leave to write with regard to my anonymous letter + to Lady Drayton. If I did not at that time tell you, as I believe I did, + that my excellent Mrs. Norton gave me her assistance in that letter, I now + acknowledge that she did. + </p> + <p> + Pray let your mother know this, for two reasons: one, that I may not be + thought to arrogate to myself a discretion which does not belong to me; + the other, that I may not suffer by the severe, but just inference she was + pleased to draw; doubling my faults upon me, if I myself should act + unworthy of the advice I was supposed to give. + </p> + <p> + Before I come to what most nearly affects us all, I must chide you once + more, for the severe, the very severe things you mention of our family, to + the disparagement of their MORALS. Indeed, my dear, I wonder at you!—A + slighter occasion might have passed me, after I had written to you so + often to so little purpose, on this topic. But, affecting as my own + circumstances are, I cannot pass by, without animadversion, the reflection + I need not repeat in words. + </p> + <p> + There is not a worthier woman in England than my mother. Nor is my father + that man you sometimes make him. Excepting in one point, I know not any + family which lives more up to their duty, than the principals of ours. A + little too uncommunicative for their great circumstances—that is + all.—Why, then, have they not reason to insist upon unexceptionable + morals in a man whose sought-for relationship to them, by a marriage in + their family, they have certainly a right either to allow of, or to + disallow. + </p> + <p> + Another line or two, before I am engrossed by my own concerns—upon + your treatment of Mr. Hickman. Is it, do you think, generous to revenge + upon an innocent person, the displeasure you receive from another quarter, + where, I doubt, you are a trespasser too?—But one thing I could tell + him; and you have best not provoke me to it: It is this, That no woman + uses ill the man she does not absolutely reject, but she has it in her + heart to make him amends, when her tyranny has had its run, and he has + completed the measure of his services and patience. My mind is not enough + at ease to push this matter further. + </p> + <p> + I will now give you the occasion of my present apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + I had reason to fear, as I mentioned in mine of this morning, that a storm + was brewing. Mr. Solmes came home from church this afternoon with my + brother. Soon after, Betty brought me up a letter, without saying from + whom. It was in a cover, and directed by a hand I never saw before; as if + it were supposed that I would not receive and open it, had I known from + whom it came. + </p> + <p> + These are the contents: + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SUNDAY, MARCH 26. DEAREST MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I think myself a most unhappy man, in that I have never yet been able to + pay my respects to you with youre consent, for one halfe-hour. I have + something to communicat to you that concernes you much, if you be pleased + to admit me to youre speech. Youre honour is concerned in it, and the + honour of all youre familly. It relates to the designes of one whom you + are sed to valew more than he desarves; and to some of his reprobat + actions; which I am reddie to give you convincing proofes of the truth of. + I may appear to be interested in it: but, neverthelesse, I am reddie to + make oathe, that every tittle is true: and you will see what a man you are + sed to favour. But I hope not so, for your owne honour. + </p> + <p> + Pray, Madam, vouchsafe me a hearing, as you valew your honour and familly: + which will oblidge, dearest Miss, + </p> + <p> + Your most humble and most faithful servant, ROGER SOLMES. + </p> + <p> + I wait below for the hope of admittance. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I have no manner of doubt, that this is a poor device to get this man into + my company. I would have sent down a verbal answer; but Betty refused to + carry any message, which should prohibit his visiting me. So I was obliged + either to see him, or to write to him. I wrote therefore an answer, of + which I shall send you the rough draught. And now my heart aches for what + may follow from it; for I hear a great hurry below. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + TO ROGER SOLMES, ESQ. SIR, + </p> + <p> + Whatever you have to communicate to me, which concerns my honour, may as + well be done by writing as by word of mouth. If Mr. Lovelace is any of my + concern, I know not that therefore he ought to be yours: for the usage I + receive on your account [I must think it so!] is so harsh, that were there + not such a man in the world as Mr. Lovelace, I would not wish to see Mr. + Solmes, no, not for one half-hour, in the way he is pleased to be desirous + to see me. I never can be in any danger from Mr. Lovelace, (and, of + consequence, cannot be affected by any of your discoveries,) if the + proposal I made be accepted. You have been acquainted with it no doubt. If + not, be pleased to let my friends know, that if they will rid me of my + apprehensions of one gentleman, I will rid them of their of another: And + then, of what consequence to them, or to me, will it be, whether Mr. + Lovelace be a good man, or a bad? And if not to them, nor to me, I see not + how it can be of any to you. But if you do, I have nothing to say to that; + and it will be a christian part if you will expostulate with him upon the + errors you have discovered, and endeavour to make him as good a man, as, + no doubt, you are yourself, or you would not be so ready to detect and + expose him. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Sir: but, after my former letter to you, and your ungenerous + perseverance; and after this attempt to avail yourself at the expense of + another man's character, rather than by your own proper merit; I see not + that you can blame any asperity in her, whom you have so largely + contributed to make unhappy. + </p> + <p> + CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + SUNDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + My father was for coming up to me, in great wrath, it seems; but was + persuaded to the contrary. My aunt Hervey was permitted to send me this + that follow.—Quick work, my dear! + </p> + <p> + TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE NIECE, + </p> + <p> + Every body is now convinced, that nothing is to be done with you by way of + gentleness or persuasion. Your mother will not permit you to stay in the + house; for your father is so incensed by your strange letter to his + friend, that she knows not what will be the consequence if you do. So, you + are commanded to get ready to go to your uncle Antony's out of hand. + </p> + <p> + Your uncle thinks he has not deserved of you such an unwillingness as you + shew to go to his house. + </p> + <p> + You don't know the wickedness of the man for whose sake you think it worth + while to quarrel with all your friends. + </p> + <p> + You must not answer me. There will be no end of that. + </p> + <p> + You know not the affliction you give to every body; but to none more than + to + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate aunt, DOROTHY HERVEY. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Forbid to write to my aunt, I took a bolder liberty. I wrote a few lines + to my mother; beseeching her to procure me leave to throw myself at my + father's feet, and hers, if I must go, (nobody else present,) to beg + pardon for the trouble I had given them both, and their blessings; and to + receive their commands as to my removal, and the time for it, from their + own lips. + </p> + <p> + 'What new boldness this!—Take it back; and bid her learn to obey,' + was my mother's angry answer, with my letter returned, unopened. + </p> + <p> + But that I might omit nothing, that had an appearance of duty, I wrote a + few lines to my father himself, to the same purpose; begging, that he + would not turn me out of his house, without his blessing. But this, torn + in two pieces, and unopened, was brought me up again by Betty, with an + air, one hand held up, the other extended, the torn letter in her open + palm; and a See here!—What a sad thing is this!—Nothing will + do but duty, Miss!—Your papa said, Let her tell me of deeds!—I'll + receive no words from her. And so he tore the letter, and flung the pieces + at my head. + </p> + <p> + So desperate was my case, I was resolved not to stop even at this repulse. + I took my pen, and addressed myself to my uncle Harlowe, enclosing that + which my mother had returned unopened, and the torn unopened one sent to + my father; having first hurried off a transcript for you. + </p> + <p> + My uncle was going home, and it was delivered to him just as he stepped + into his chariot. What may be the fate of it therefore I cannot know till + to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + The following is a copy of it: + </p> + <p> + TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. MY DEAR AND EVER-HONOURED UNCLE, + </p> + <p> + I have nobody now but you, to whom I can apply, with hope, so much as to + have my humble addresses opened and read. My aunt Hervey has given me + commands which I want to have explained; but she has forbid me writing to + her. Hereupon I took the liberty to write to my father and mother. You + will see, Sir, by the torn one, and by the other, (both unopened,) what + has been the result. This, Sir, perhaps you already know: but, as you know + not the contents of the disgraced letters, I beseech you to read them + both, that you may be a witness for me, that they are not filled with + either complaints or expostulations, nor contain any thing undutiful. Give + me leave to say, Sir, that if deaf-eared anger will neither grant me a + hearing, nor, what I write a perusal, some time hence the hard-heartedness + may be regretted. I beseech you, dear, good Sir, to let me know what is + meant by sending me to my uncle Antony's house, rather than to yours, or + to my aunt Hervey's, or else-where? If it be for what I apprehend it to + be, life will not be supportable upon the terms. I beg also to know, WHEN + I am to be turned out of doors!—My heart strongly gives me, that if + once I am compelled to leave this house, I never shall see it more. + </p> + <p> + It becomes me, however, to declare, that I write not this through + perverseness, or in resentment. God knows my heart, I do not! But the + treatment I apprehend I shall meet with, if carried to my other uncle's, + will, in all probability, give the finishing stroke to the distresses, the + undeserved distresses I will be bold to call them, of + </p> + <p> + Your once highly-favoured, but now unhappy, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY MORNING, MARCH 27. + </h3> + <p> + This morning early my uncle Harlowe came hither. He sent up the enclosed + very tender letter. It has made me wish I could oblige him. You will see + how Mr. Solmes's ill qualities are glossed over in it. What blemishes dies + affection hide!—But perhaps they may say to me, What faults does + antipathy bring to light! + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to send me back this letter of my uncle by the first return. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY NIGHT, OR RATHER MINDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + I must answer you, though against my own resolution. Every body loves you; + and you know they do. The very ground you walk upon is dear to most of us. + But how can we resolve to see you? There is no standing against your looks + and language. It is our loves makes us decline to see you. How can we, + when you are resolved not to do what we are resolved you shall do? I + never, for my part, loved any creature, as I loved you from your infancy + till now. And indeed, as I have often said, never was there a young + creature so deserving of our love. But what is come to you now! Alas! + alas! my dear kinswoman, how you fail in the trial! + </p> + <p> + I have read the letters you enclosed. At a proper time, I may shew them to + my brother and sister: but they will receive nothing from you at present. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I could not read your letter to me, without being unmanned. + How can you be so unmoved yourself, yet so able to move every body else? + How could you send such a letter to Mr. Solmes? Fie upon you! How + strangely are you altered! + </p> + <p> + Then to treat your brother and sister as you did, that they don't care to + write to you, or to see you! Don't you know where it is written, That soft + answers turn away wrath? But if you will trust to you sharp-pointed wit, + you may wound. Yet a club will beat down a sword: And how can you expect + that they who are hurt by you will not hurt you again? Was this the way + you used to take to make us all adore you as we did?—No, it was your + gentleness of heart and manners, that made every body, even strangers, at + first sight, treat you as a lady, and call you a lady, though not born + one, while your elder sister had no such distinctions paid her. If you + were envied, why should you sharpen envy, and file up its teeth to an + edge?—You see I write like an impartial man, and as one that loves + you still. + </p> + <p> + But since you have displayed your talents, and spared nobody, and moved + every body, without being moved, you have but made us stand the closer and + firmer together. This is what I likened to an embattled phalanx, once + before. Your aunt Hervey forbids your writing for the same reason that I + must not countenance it. We are all afraid to see you, because we know we + shall be made as so many fools. Nay, your mother is so afraid of you, that + once or twice, when she thought you were coming to force yourself into her + presence, she shut the door, and locked herself in, because she knew she + must not see you upon your terms, and you are resolved you will not see + her upon hers. + </p> + <p> + Resolves but to oblige us all, my dearest Miss Clary, and you shall see + how we will clasp you every one by turns to our rejoicing hearts. If the + one man has not the wit, and the parts, and the person, of the other, no + one breathing has a worse heart than that other: and is not the love of + all your friends, and a sober man (if he be not so polished) to be + preferred to a debauchee, though ever so fine a man to look at? You have + such talents that you will be adored by the one: but the other has as much + advantage in those respects, as you have yourself, and will not set by + them one straw: for husbands are sometimes jealous of their authority with + witty wives. You will have in one, a man of virtue. Had you not been so + rudely affronting to him, he would have made your ears tingle with what he + could have told you of the other. + </p> + <p> + Come, my dear niece, let me have the honour of doing with you what no body + else yet has been able to do. Your father, mother, and I, will divide the + pleasure, and the honour, I will again call it, between us; and all past + offences shall be forgiven; and Mr. Solmes, we will engage, shall take + nothing amiss hereafter, of what has passed. + </p> + <p> + He knows, he says, what a jewel that man will have, who can obtain your + favour; and he will think light of all he has suffered, or shall suffer, + in obtaining you. + </p> + <p> + Dear, sweet creature, oblige us: and oblige us with a grace. It must be + done, whether with a grace or not. I do assure you it must. You must not + conquer father, mother, uncles, every body: depend upon that. + </p> + <p> + I have set up half the night to write this. You do not know how I am + touched at reading yours, and writing this. Yet will I be at Harlowe-place + early in the morning. So, upon reading this, if you will oblige us all, + send me word to come up to your apartment: and I will lead you down, and + present you to the embraces of every one: and you will then see, you have + more of a brother and sister in them both, than of late your prejudices + will let you think you have. This from one who used to love to style + himself, + </p> + <p> + Your paternal uncle, JOHN HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + In about an hour after this kind letter was given me, my uncle sent up to + know, if he should be a welcome visiter, upon the terms mentioned in his + letter? He bid Betty bring him down a verbal answer: a written one, he + said, would be a bad sign: and he bid her therefore not to bring a letter. + But I had just finished the enclosed transcription of one I had been + writing. She made a difficulty to carry it; but was prevailed upon to + oblige me by a token which these Mrs. Betty's cannot withstand. + </p> + <p> + DEAR AND HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + How you rejoice me by your condescending goodness!—So kind, so + paternal a letter!—so soothing to a wounded heart; and of late what + I have been so little used to!—How am I affected with it! Tell me + not, dear Sir, of my way of writing: your letter has more moved me, than I + have been able to move any body!—It has made me wish, with all my + heart, that I could entitle myself to be visited upon your own terms; and + to be led down to my father and mother by so good and so kind an uncle. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you, dearest Uncle, what I will do to make my peace. I have no + doubt that Mr. Solmes, upon consideration, would greatly prefer my sister + to such a strange averse creature as me. His chief, or one of his chief + motives in his address to me, is, as I have reason to believe, the + contiguity of my grandfather's estate to his own. I will resign it; for + ever I will resign it: and the resignation must be good, because I will + never marry at all. I will make it over to my sister, and her heirs for + ever. I shall have no heirs, but my brother and her; and I will receive, + as of my father's bounty, such an annuity (not in lieu of the estate, but + as of his bounty) as he shall be pleased to grant me, if it be ever so + small: and whenever I disoblige him, he to withdraw it, at his pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Will this not be accepted?—Surely it must—surely it will!—I + beg of you, dearest Sir, to propose it; and second it with your interest. + This will answer every end. My sister has a high opinion of Mr. Solmes. I + never can have any in the light he is proposed to me. But as my sister's + husband, he will be always entitled to my respect; and shall have it. + </p> + <p> + If this be accepted, grant me, Sir, the honour of a visit; and do me then + the inexpressible pleasure of leading me down to the feet of my honoured + parents, and they shall find me the most dutiful of children; and to the + arms of my brother and sister, and they shall find me the most obliging + and most affectionate of sisters. + </p> + <p> + I wait, Sir, for your answer to this proposal, made with the whole heart + of + </p> + <p> + Your dutiful and most obliged niece, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY NOON. + </p> + <p> + I hope this will be accepted: for Betty tells me, that my uncle Antony and + my aunt Hervey are sent for; and not Mr. Solmes; which I look upon as a + favourable circumstance. With what cheerfulness will I assign over this + envied estate!—What a much more valuable consideration shall I part + with it for!—The love and favour of all my relations! That love and + favour, which I used for eighteen years together to rejoice in, and be + distinguished by!—And what a charming pretence will this afford me + of breaking with Mr. Lovelace! And how easily will it possibly make him to + part with me! + </p> + <p> + I found this morning, in the usual place, a letter from him, in answer, I + suppose, to mine of Friday, which I deposited not till Saturday. But I + have not opened it; nor will I, till I see what effect this new offer will + have. + </p> + <p> + Let me but be permitted to avoid the man I hate; and I will give up with + cheerfulness the man I could prefer. To renounce the one, were I really to + value him as much as you seem to imagine, can give but a temporary + concern, which time and discretion will alleviate. This is a sacrifice + which a child owes to parents and friends, if they insist upon its being + made. But the other, to marry a man one cannot endure, is not only a + dishonest thing, as to the man; but it is enough to make a creature who + wishes to be a good wife, a bad or indifferent one, as I once wrote to the + man himself: and then she can hardly be either a good mistress, or a good + friend; or any thing but a discredit to her family, and a bad example to + all around her. + </p> + <p> + Methinks I am loth, in the suspense I am in at present, to deposit this, + because it will be leaving you in one as great: but having been prevented + by Betty's officiousness twice, I will now go down to my little poultry; + and, if I have an opportunity, will leave it in the usual place, where I + hope to find something from you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 27. + </h3> + <p> + I have deposited my narrative down to this day noon; but I hope soon to + follow it with another letter, that I may keep you as little a while as + possible in that suspense which I am so much affected by at this moment: + for my heart is disturbed at ever foot I hear stir; and at every door + below that I hear open or shut. + </p> + <p> + They have been all assembled some time, and are in close debate I believe: + But can there be room for long debate upon a proposal, which, if accepted, + will so effectually answer all their views?—Can they insist a moment + longer upon my having Mr. Solmes, when they see what sacrifices I am ready + to make, to be freed from his addresses?—Oh! but I suppose the + struggle is, first, with Bella's nicety, to persuade her to accept of the + estate, and of the husband; and next, with her pride, to take her sister's + refusals, as she once phrased it!—Or, it may be, my brother is + insisting upon equivalents for his reversion in the estate: and these sort + of things take up but too much the attention of some of our family. To + these, no doubt, one or both, it must be owing, that my proposal admits of + so much consideration. + </p> + <p> + I want, methinks, to see what Mr. Lovelace, in his letter, says. But I + will deny myself this piece of curiosity till that which is raised by my + present suspense is answered.—Excuse me, my dear, that I thus + trouble you with my uncertainties: but I have no employment, nor heart, if + I had, to pursue any other but what my pen affords me. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + Would you believe it?—Betty, by anticipation, tells me, that I am to + be refused. I am 'a vile, artful creature. Every body is too good to me. + My uncle Harlowe has been taken in, that's the phrase. They know how it + would be, if he either wrote to me, or saw me. He has, however, been made + ashamed to be so wrought upon. A pretty thing truly in the eye of the + world it would be, were they to take me at my word! It would look as if + they had treated me thus hardly, as I think it, for this very purpose. My + peculiars, particularly Miss Howe, would give it that turn; and I myself + could mean nothing by it, but to see if it would be accepted in order to + strengthen my own arguments against Mr. Solmes. It was amazing, that it + could admit of a moment's deliberation: that any thing could be supposed + to be done in it. It was equally against law and equity: and a fine + security Miss Bella would have, or Mr. Solmes, when I could resume it when + I would!—My brother and she my heirs! O the artful creature!—I + to resolve to live single, when Lovelace is so sure of me—and every + where declares as much!—and can whenever he pleases, if my husband, + claim under the will!—Then the insolence—the confidence—[as + Betty mincingly told me, that one said; you may easily guess who] that + she, who was so justly in disgrace for downright rebellion, should pretend + to prescribe to the whole family!—Should name a husband for her + elder sister!—What a triumph would her obstinacy go away with, to + delegate her commands, not as from a prison, as she called it, but as from + her throne, to her elders and betters; and to her father and mother too!—Amazing, + perfectly amazing, that any body could argue upon such a proposal as this! + It was a master-stroke of finesse—It was ME in perfection!—Surely + my uncle Harlowe will never again be so taken in!' + </p> + <p> + All this was the readier told me, because it was against me, and would + tease and vex me. But as some of this fine recapitulation implied, that + somebody spoke up for me. I was curious to know who it was. But Betty + would not tell me, for fear I should have the consolation to find that all + were not against me. + </p> + <p> + But do you not see, my dear, what a sad creature she is whom you honour + with your friendship?—You could not doubt your influence over me: + Why did you not take the friendly liberty I have always taken with you, + and tell me my faults, and what a specious hypocrite I am? For, if my + brother and sister could make such discoveries, how is it possible, that + faults to enormous [you could see others, you thought, of a more secret + nature!] could escape you penetrating eye? + </p> + <p> + Well, but now, it seems, they are debating how and by whom to answer me: + for they know not, nor are they to know, that Mrs. Betty has told me all + these fine things. One desires to be excused, it seems: another chooses + not to have any thing to say to me: another has enough of me: and of + writing to so ready a scribbler, there will be no end. + </p> + <p> + Thus are those imputed qualifications, which used so lately to gain me + applause, now become my crimes: so much do disgust and anger alter the + property of things. + </p> + <p> + The result of their debate, I suppose, will somehow or other be + communicated to me by-and-by. But let me tell you, my dear, that I am made + so desperate, that I am afraid to open Mr. Lovelace's letter, lest, in the + humour I am in, I should do something (if I find it not exceptionable) + that may give me repentance as long as I live. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + This moment the following letter is brought me by Betty. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY, 5 O'CLOCK MISS CUNNING-ONE, + </p> + <p> + Your fine new proposal is thought unworthy of a particular answer. Your + uncle Harlowe is ashamed to be so taken in. Have you no new fetch for your + uncle Antony? Go round with us, child, now your hand's in. But I was bid + to write only one line, that you might not complain, as you did of your + worthy sister, for the freedoms you provoked: It is this—Prepare + yourself. To-morrow you go to my uncle Antony's. That's all, child. + </p> + <p> + JAMES HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + I was vexed to the heart at this: and immediately, in the warmth of + resentment, wrote the enclosed to my uncle Harlowe; who it seems stays + here this night. + </p> + <p> + TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. MONDAY NIGHT. HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + I find I am a very sad creature, and did not know it. I wrote not to my + brother. To you, Sir, I wrote. From you I hope the honour of an answer. No + one reveres her uncle more than I do. Nevertheless, between uncle and + niece, excludes not such a hope: and I think I have not made a proposal + that deserves to be treated with scorn. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, Sir—my heart is full. Perhaps one day you may think you + have been prevailed upon (for that is plainly the case!) to join to treat + me—as I do not deserve to be treated. If you are ashamed, as my + brother hints, of having expressed any returning tenderness to me, God + help me! I see I have no mercy to expect from any body! But, Sir, from + your pen let me have an answer; I humbly implore it of you. Till my + brother can recollect what belongs to a sister, I will not take from him + no answer to the letter I wrote to you, nor any commands whatever. + </p> + <p> + I move every body!—This, Sir, is what you are pleased to mention. + But whom have I moved?—One person in the family has more moving ways + than I have, or he could never so undeservedly have made every body + ashamed to show tenderness to a poor distressed child of the same family. + </p> + <p> + Return me not this with contempt, or torn, or unanswered, I beseech you. + My father has a title to do that or any thing by his child: but from no + other person in the world of your sex, Sir, ought a young creature of mine + (while she preserves a supplicating spirit) to be so treated. + </p> + <p> + When what I have before written in the humblest strain has met with such + strange constructions, I am afraid that this unguarded scrawl will be very + ill received. But I beg, Sir, you will oblige me with one line, be it ever + so harsh, in answer to my proposal. I still think it ought to be attended + to. I will enter into the most solemn engagements to make it valid by a + perpetual single life. In a word, any thing I can do, I will do, to be + restored to all your favours. More I cannot say, but that I am, very + undeservedly, + </p> + <p> + A most unhappy creature. + </p> + <p> + Betty scrupled again to carry this letter; and said, she should have + anger; and I should have it returned in scraps and bits. + </p> + <p> + I must take that chance, said I: I only desire that you will deliver it as + directed. + </p> + <p> + Sad doings! very sad! she said, that young ladies should so violently set + themselves against their duty. + </p> + <p> + I told her, she should have the liberty to say what she pleased, so she + would but be my messenger that one time: and down she went with it. + </p> + <p> + I bid her, if she could, slide it into my uncle's hand, unseen; at least + unseen by my brother or sister, for fear it should meet, through their + good office, with the fate she had bespoken for it. + </p> + <p> + She would not undertake for that, she said. + </p> + <p> + I am now in expectation of the result. But having so little ground to hope + for their favour or mercy, I opened Mr. Lovelace's letter. + </p> + <p> + I would send it to you, my dear (as well as those I shall enclose) by this + conveyance; but not being able at present to determine in what manner I + shall answer it, I will give myself the trouble of abstracting it here, + while I am waiting for what may offer from the letter just carried down. + </p> + <p> + 'He laments, as usual, my ill opinion of him, and readiness to believe + every thing to his disadvantage. He puts into plain English, as I supposed + he would, my hint, that I might be happier, if, by any rashness he might + be guilty of to Solmes, he should come to an untimely end himself.' + </p> + <p> + He is concerned, he says, 'That the violence he had expressed on his + extreme apprehensiveness of losing me, should have made him guilty of any + thing I had so much reason to resent.' + </p> + <p> + He owns, 'That he is passionate: all good-natured men, he says, are so; + and a sincere man cannot hide it.' But appeals to me, 'Whether, if any + occasion in the world could excuse the rashness of his expressions, it + would not be his present dreadful situation, through my indifference, and + the malice of his enemies.' + </p> + <p> + He says, 'He has more reason than ever, from the contents of my last, to + apprehend, that I shall be prevailed upon by force, if not by fair means, + to fall in with my brother's measures; and sees but too plainly, that I am + preparing him to expect it. + </p> + <p> + 'Upon this presumption, he supplicates, with the utmost earnestness, that + I will not give way to the malice of his enemies. + </p> + <p> + 'Solemn vows of reformation, and everlasting truth and obligingness, he + makes; all in the style of desponding humility: yet calls it a cruel turn + upon him, to impute his protestations to a consciousness of the necessity + there is for making them from his bad character. + </p> + <p> + 'He despises himself, he solemnly protests, for his past follies. He + thanks God he has seen his error; and nothing but my more particular + instructions is wanting to perfect his reformation. + </p> + <p> + 'He promises, that he will do every thing that I shall think he can do + with honour, to bring about a reconciliation with my father; and even + will, if I insist upon it, make the first overtures to my brother, and + treat him as his own brother, because he is mine, if he will not by new + affronts revive the remembrance of the past. + </p> + <p> + 'He begs, in the most earnest and humble manner, for one half-hour's + interview; undertaking by a key, which he owns he has to the garden-door, + leading into the coppice, as we call it, (if I will but unbolt the door,) + to come into the garden at night, and wait till I have an opportunity to + come to him, that he may re-assure me of the truth of all he writes, and + of the affection, and, if needful, protection, of all his family. + </p> + <p> + 'He presumes not, he says, to write by way of menace to me; but if I + refuse him this favour, he knows not (so desperate have some strokes in my + letter made him) what his despair may make him do.' + </p> + <p> + He asks me, 'Determined, as my friends are, and far as they have already + gone, and declare they will go, what can I propose to do, to avoid having + Mr. Solmes, if I am carried to my uncle Antony's; unless I resolve to + accept of the protection he has offered to procure me; or except I will + escape to London, or elsewhere, while I can escape?' + </p> + <p> + He advises me, 'To sue to your mother, for her private reception of me; + only till I can obtain possession of my own estate, and procure my friends + to be reconciled to me; which he is sure they will be desirous to be, the + moment I am out of their power.' + </p> + <p> + He apprizes me, [It is still my wonder, how he comes by this + intelligence!] 'That my friends have written to my cousin Morden to + represent matters to him in their own partial way; nor doubt they to + influence him on their side of the question. + </p> + <p> + 'That all this shews I have but one way; if none of my friends or + intimates will receive me. + </p> + <p> + 'If I will transport him with the honour of my choice of this one way, + settlements shall be drawn, with proper blanks, which I shall fill up as I + pleased. Let him but have my commands from my own mouth, all my doubts and + scruples from my own lips; and only a repetition, that I will not, on any + consideration, be Solmes's wife; and he shall be easy. But, after such a + letter as I have written, nothing but an interview can make him so.' He + beseeches me therefore, 'To unbolt the door, as that very night; or, if I + receive not this time enough, this night;—and he will, in a disguise + that shall not give suspicion who he is, if he should be seen, come to the + garden door, in hopes to open it with his key; nor will he have any other + lodging than in the coppice both nights; watching every wakeful hour for + the propitious unbolting, unless he has a letter with my orders to the + contrary, or to make some other appointment.' + </p> + <p> + This letter was dated yesterday: so he was there last night, I suppose; + and will be there this night; and I have not written a line to him: and + now it is too late, were I determined what to write. + </p> + <p> + I hope he will not go to Mr. Solmes.—I hope he will not come hither.—If + he do either, I will break with him for ever. + </p> + <p> + What have I to do with these headstrong spirits? I wish I had never—but + what signifies wishing?—I am strangely perplexed: but I need not + have told you this, after such a representation of my situation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY MORNING, 7 O'CLOCK + </h3> + <p> + My uncle has vouchsafed to answer me. These that follow are the contents + of his letter; but just now brought me, although written last night—late + I suppose. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY NIGHT. MISS CLARY, + </p> + <p> + Since you are grown such a bold challenger, and teach us all our duty, + though you will not practise your own, I must answer you. Nobody wants you + estate from you. Are you, who refuse ever body's advice, to prescribe a + husband to your sister? Your letter to Mr. Solmes is inexcusable. I blamed + you for it before. Your parents will be obeyed. It is fit they should. + Your mother has nevertheless prevailed to have your going to your uncle + Antony's put off till Thursday: yet owns you deserve not that, or any + other favour from her. I will receive no more of your letters. You are too + artful for me. You are an ungrateful and unreasonable child: Must you have + your way paramount to every body's? How are you altered. + </p> + <p> + Your displeased uncle, JOHN HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + To be carried away on Thursday—To the moated house—To the + chapel—To Solmes! How can I think of this!—They will make me + desperate. + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY MORNING, 8 O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace. I opened it with the expectation + of its being filled with bold and free complaints, on my not writing to + prevent his two nights watching, in weather not extremely agreeable. But, + instead of complaints, he is 'full of tender concern lest I may have been + prevented by indisposition, or by the closer confinement which he has + frequently cautioned me that I may expect.' + </p> + <p> + He says, 'He had been in different disguises loitering about our garden + and park wall, all the day on Sunday last; and all Sunday night was + wandering about the coppice, and near the back door. It rained; and he has + got a great cold, attended with feverishness, and so hoarse, that he has + almost lost his voice.' + </p> + <p> + Why did he not flame out in his letter?—Treated as I am treated by + my friends, it is dangerous to be laid under the sense of an obligation to + an addresser's patience; especially when such a one suffers in health for + my sake. + </p> + <p> + 'He had no shelter, he says, but under the great overgrown ivy, which + spreads wildly round the heads of two or three oaklings; and that was soon + wet through.' + </p> + <p> + You remember the spot. You and I, my dear, once thought ourselves obliged + to the natural shade which those ivy-covered oaklings afforded us, in a + sultry day. + </p> + <p> + I can't help saying, I am sorry he has suffered for my sake; but 'tis his + own seeking. + </p> + <p> + His letter is dated last night at eight: 'And, indisposed as he is, he + tells me that he will watch till ten, in hopes of my giving him the + meeting he so earnestly request. And after that, he has a mile to walk to + his horse and servant; and four miles then to ride to his inn.' + </p> + <p> + He owns, 'That he has an intelligencer in our family; who has failed him + for a day or two past: and not knowing how I do, or how I may be treated, + his anxiety is increased.' + </p> + <p> + This circumstance gives me to guess who this intelligencer is: Joseph + Leman: the very creature employed and confided in, more than any other, by + my brother. + </p> + <p> + This is not an honourable way of proceeding in Mr. Lovelace. Did he learn + this infamous practice of corrupting the servants of other families at the + French court, where he resided a good while? + </p> + <p> + I have been often jealous of this Leman in my little airings and + poultry-visits. Doubly obsequious as he was always to me, I have thought + him my brother's spy upon me; and although he obliged me by his hastening + out of the garden and poultry-yard, whenever I came into either, have + wondered, that from his reports my liberties of those kinds have not been + abridged.* So, possibly, this man may be bribed by both, yet betray both. + Worthy views want not such obliquities as these on either side. An honest + mind must rise into indignation both at the traitor-maker and the traitor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Mr. Lovelace accounts for this, Vol. I, Letter XXXV. +</pre> + <p> + 'He presses with the utmost earnestness for an interview. He would not + presume, he says, to disobey my last personal commands, that he should not + endeavour to attend me again in the wood-house. But says, he can give me + such reasons for my permitting him to wait upon my father or uncles, as he + hopes will be approved by me: for he cannot help observing, that it is no + more suitable to my own spirit than to his, that he, a man of fortune and + family, should be obliged to pursue such a clandestine address, as would + only become a vile fortune-hunter. But, if I will give my consent for his + visiting me like a man, and a gentleman, no ill treatment shall provoke + him to forfeit his temper. + </p> + <p> + 'Lord M. will accompany him, if I please: or Lady Betty Lawrance will + first make the visit to my mother, or to my aunt Hervey, or even to my + uncles, if I choose it. And such terms shall be offered, as shall have + weight upon them. + </p> + <p> + 'He begs, that I will not deny him making a visit to Mr. Solmes. By all + that's good, he vows, that it shall not be with the least intention either + to hurt or affront him; but only to set before him, calmly and rationally, + the consequences that may possibly flow from so fruitless a perseverance, + as well as the ungenerous folly of it, to a mind as noble as mine. He + repeats his own resolution to attend my pleasure, and Mr. Morden's arrival + and advice, for the reward of his own patience. + </p> + <p> + 'It is impossible, he says, but one of these methods must do. Presence, he + observes, even of a disliked person, takes off the edge of resentments + which absence whets, and makes keen. + </p> + <p> + 'He therefore most earnestly repeats his importunities for the supplicated + interview.' He says, 'He has business of consequence in London: but cannot + stir from the inconvenient spot where he has for some time resided, in + disguises unworthy of himself, until he can be absolutely certain, that I + shall not be prevailed upon, either by force or otherwise; and until he + finds me delivered from the insults of my brother. Nor ought this to be an + indifferent point to one, for whose sake all the world reports me to be + used unworthily. But one remark, he says, he cannot help making: that did + my friends know the little favour I shew him, and the very great distance + I keep him at, they would have no reason to confine me on his account. And + another, that they themselves seem to think him entitled to a different + usage, and expect that he receives it; when, in truth, what he meets with + from me is exactly what they wish him to meet with, excepting in the + favour of my correspondence I honour him with; upon which, he says, he + puts the highest value, and for the sake of which he has submitted to a + thousand indignities. + </p> + <p> + 'He renews his professions of reformation. He is convinced, he says, that + he has already run a long and dangerous course; and that it is high time + to think of returning. It must be from proper conviction, he says, that a + person who has lived too gay a life, resolves to reclaim, before age or + sufferings come upon him. + </p> + <p> + 'All generous spirits, he observes, hate compulsion. Upon this observation + he dwells; but regrets, that he is likely to owe all his hopes to this + compulsion; this injudicious compulsion, he justly calls it; and none to + my esteem for him. Although he presumes upon some merit—in this + implicit regard to my will—in the bearing the daily indignities + offered not only to him, but to his relations, by my brother—in the + nightly watchings, his present indisposition makes him mention, or he had + not debased the nobleness of his passion for me, by such a selfish + instance.' + </p> + <p> + I cannot but say, I am sorry the man is not well. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid to ask you, my dear, what you would have done, thus situated. + But what I have done, I have done. In a word, I wrote, 'That I would, if + possible, give him a meeting to-morrow night, between the hours of nine + and twelve, by the ivy summer-house, or in it, or near the great cascade, + at the bottom of the garden; and would unbolt the door, that he might come + in by his own key. But that, if I found the meeting impracticable, or + should change my mind, I would signify as much by another line; which he + must wait for until it were dark.' + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I am just returned from depositing my billet. How diligent is this man! It + is plain he was in waiting: for I had walked but a few paces, after I had + deposited it, when, my heart misgiving me, I returned, to have taken it + back, in order to reconsider it as I walked, and whether I should or + should not let it go. But I found it gone. + </p> + <p> + In all probability, there was but a brick wall, of a few inches thick, + between Mr. Lovelace and me, at the very time I put the letter under the + brick! + </p> + <p> + I am come back dissatisfied with myself. But I think, my dear, there can + be no harm in meeting him. If I do not, he may take some violent measures. + What he knows of the treatment I meet with in malice to him, and with the + view to frustrate all his hopes, may make him desperate. His behaviour + last time I saw him, under the disadvantages of time and place, and + surprised as I was, gives me no apprehension of any thing but discovery. + What he requires is not unreasonable, and cannot affect my future choice + and determination: it is only to assure him from my own lips, that I never + will be the wife of a man I hate. If I have not an opportunity to meet + without hazard or detection, he must once more bear the disappointment. + All his trouble, and mine too, is owing to his faulty character. This, + although I hate tyranny and arrogance in all shapes, makes me think less + of the risques he runs, and the fatigues he undergoes, than otherwise I + should do; and still less, as my sufferings (derived from the same source) + are greater than his. + </p> + <p> + Betty confirms this intimation, that I must go to my uncle's on Thursday. + She was sent on purpose to direct me to prepare myself for going, and to + help me to get every thing up in order for my removal. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, THREE O'CLOCK, MARCH 28. + </h3> + <p> + I have mentioned several times the pertness of Mrs. Betty to me; and now, + having a little time upon my hands, I will give you a short dialogue that + passed just now between us. It may, perhaps, be a little relief to you + from the dull subjects with which I am perpetually teasing you. + </p> + <p> + As she attended me at dinner, she took notice, That Nature is satisfied + with a very little nourishment: and thus she complimentally proved it—For, + Miss, said she, you eat nothing; yet never looked more charmingly in your + life. + </p> + <p> + As to the former part of your speech, Betty, said I, you observe well; and + I have often thought, when I have seen how healthy the children of the + labouring poor look, and are, with empty stomachs, and hardly a good meal + in a week, that God Almighty is very kind to his creatures, in this + respect, as well as in all others in making much not necessary to the + support of life; when three parts in four of His creatures, if it were, + would not know how to obtain it. It puts me in mind of two proverbial + sentences which are full of admirable meaning. + </p> + <p> + What, pray, Miss, are they? I love to hear you talk, when you are so + sedate as you seem now to be. + </p> + <p> + The one is to the purpose we are speaking of: Poverty is the mother of + health. And let me tell you, Betty, if I had a better appetite, and were + to encourage it, with so little rest, and so much distress and + persecution, I don't think I should be able to preserve my reason. + </p> + <p> + There's no inconvenience but has its convenience, said Betty, giving me + proverb for proverb. But what is the other, Madam? + </p> + <p> + That the pleasures of the mighty are not obtained by the tears of the + poor. It is but reasonable, therefore, methinks, that the plenty of the + one should be followed by distempers; and that the indigence of the other + should be attended with that health, which makes all its other discomforts + light on the comparison. And hence a third proverb, Betty, since you are + an admirer of proverbs: Better a hare-foot than none at all; that is to + say, than not to be able to walk. + </p> + <p> + She was mightily taken with what I said: See, returned she, what a fine + thing scholarship is!—I, said she, had always, from a girl, a taste + for reading, though it were but in Mother Goose, and concerning the + fairies [and then she took genteelly a pinch of snuff]: could but my + parents have let go as fast as I pulled, I should have been a very happy + creature. + </p> + <p> + Very likely, you would have made great improvements, Betty: but as it is, + I cannot say, but since I had the favour of your attendance in this + intimate manner, I have heard smarter things from you, than I have heard + at table from some of my brother's fellow-collegians. + </p> + <p> + Your servant, dear Miss; dropping me one of her best courtesies: so fine a + judge as you are!—It is enough to make one very proud. Then with + another pinch—I cannot indeed but say, bridling upon it, that I have + heard famous scholars often and often say very silly things: things I + should be ashamed myself to say; but I thought they did it out of + humility, and in condescension to those who had not their learning. + </p> + <p> + That she might not be too proud, I told her, I would observe, that the + liveliness or quickness she so happily discovered in herself, was not so + much an honour to her, as what she owed to her sex; which, as I had + observed in many instances, had great advantages over the other, in all + the powers that related to imagination. And hence, Mrs. Betty, you'll take + notice, as I have of late had opportunity to do, that your own talent at + repartee and smartness, when it has something to work upon, displays + itself to more advantage, than could well be expected from one whose + friends, to speak in your own phrase, could not let go so fast as you + pulled. + </p> + <p> + The wench gave me a proof of the truth of my observation, in a manner + still more alert than I had expected: If, said she, our sex had so much + advantage in smartness, it is the less to be wondered at, that you, Miss, + who have had such an education, should outdo all the men and women too, + that come near you. + </p> + <p> + Bless me, Betty, said I, what a proof do you give me of your wit and your + courage at the same time! This is outdoing yourself. It would make young + ladies less proud, and more apprehensive, were they generally attended by + such smart servants, and their mouths permitted to be unlocked upon them + as yours has been lately upon me.—But, take away, Mrs. Betty. + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, you have eat nothing at all—I hope you are not displeased + with your dinner for any thing I have said. + </p> + <p> + No, Mrs. Betty, I am pretty well used to your freedoms now, you know.—I + am not displeased in the main, to observe, that, were the succession of + modern fine ladies to be extinct, it might be supplied from those whom + they place in the next rank to themselves, their chamber-maids and + confidants. Your young mistress has contributed a great deal to this + quickness of yours. She always preferred your company to mine. As you + pulled, she let go; and so, Mrs. Betty, you have gained by her + conversation what I have lost. + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, if you come to that, nobody says better things than Miss + Harlowe. I could tell you one, if I pleased, upon my observing to her, + that you lived of late upon the air, and had no stomach to any thing; yet + looked as charmingly as ever. + </p> + <p> + I dare say, it was a very good-natured one, Mrs. Betty! Do you then please + that I shall hear it? + </p> + <p> + Only this, Miss, That your stomachfulness had swallowed up your stomach; + and, That obstinacy was meat, drink, and clothes to you. + </p> + <p> + Ay, Mrs. Betty; and did she say this?—I hope she laughed when she + said it, as she does at all her good things, as she calls them. It was + very smart, and very witty. I wish my mind were so much at ease, as to aim + at being witty too. But if you admire such sententious sayings, I'll help + you to another; and that is, Encouragement and approbation make people + show talents they were never suspected to have; and this will do both for + mistress and maid. And another I'll furnish you with, the contrary of the + former, that will do only for me: That persecution and discouragement + depress ingenuous minds, and blunt the edge of lively imaginations. And + hence may my sister's brilliancy and my stupidity be both accounted for. + Ingenuous, you must know, Mrs. Betty, and ingenious, are two things; and I + would not arrogate the latter to myself. + </p> + <p> + Lord, Miss, said the foolish girl, you know a great deal for your years.—You + are a very learned young lady!—What pity— + </p> + <p> + None of your pitties, Mrs. Betty, I know what you'd say. But tell me, if + you can, Is it resolved that I shall be carried to my uncle Antony's on + Thursday? + </p> + <p> + I was willing to reward myself for the patience she had made me exercise, + by getting at what intelligence I could from her. + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, seating herself at a little distance (excuse my sitting down) + with the snuff-box tapped very smartly, the lid opened, and a pinch taken + with a dainty finger and thumb, the other three fingers distendedly bent, + and with a fine flourish—I cannot but say, that it is my opinion, + you will certainly go on Thursday; and this noless foless, as I have heard + my young lady say in FRENCH. + </p> + <p> + Whether I am willing or not willing, you mean, I suppose, Mrs. Betty? + </p> + <p> + You have it, Miss. + </p> + <p> + Well but, Betty, I have no mind to be turned out of doors so suddenly. Do + you think I could not be permitted to tarry one week longer? + </p> + <p> + How can I tell, Miss? + </p> + <p> + O Mrs. Betty, you can tell a great deal, if you please. But here I am + forbid writing to any one of my family; none of it now will come near me; + nor will any of it permit me to see them: How shall I do to make known my + request, to stay here a week or fortnight longer? + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, I fancy, if you were to shew a compliable temper, your friends + would shew a compliable one too. But would you expect favours, and grant + none? + </p> + <p> + Smartly put, Betty! But who knows what may be the result of my being + carried to my uncle Antony's? + </p> + <p> + Who knows, Miss!—Why any body will guess what may be the result. + </p> + <p> + As how, Betty? + </p> + <p> + As how! repeated the pert wench, Why, Miss, you will stand in your own + light, as you have hitherto done: and your parents, as such good parents + ought, will be obeyed. + </p> + <p> + If, Mrs. Betty, I had not been used to your oughts, and to have my duty + laid down to me by your oraculous wisdom I should be apt to stare at the + liberty of you speech. + </p> + <p> + You seem angry, Miss. I hope I take no unbecoming liberty. + </p> + <p> + If thou really thinkest thou dost not, thy ignorance is more to be pitied, + than thy pertness resented. I wish thou wouldst leave me to myself. + </p> + <p> + When young ladies fall out with their own duty, it is not much to be + wondered at, that they are angry at any body who do theirs. + </p> + <p> + That's a very pretty saying, Mrs. Betty!—I see plainly what thy duty + is in thy notion, and am obliged to those who taught it thee. + </p> + <p> + Every body takes notice, Miss, that you can say very cutting words in a + cool manner, and yet not call names, as I have known some gentlefolks as + well as others do when in a passion. But I wish you had permitted 'Squire + Solmes to see you: he would have told you such stories of 'Squire + Lovelace, as you would have turned your heart against him for ever. + </p> + <p> + And know you any of the particulars of those sad stories? + </p> + <p> + Indeed I don't; but you'll hear all at your uncle Antony's, I suppose; and + a great deal more perhaps than you will like to hear. + </p> + <p> + Let me hear what I will, I am determined against Mr. Solmes, were it to + cost me my life. + </p> + <p> + If you are, Miss, the Lord have mercy on you! For what with this letter of + yours to 'Squire Solmes, whom they so much value, and what with their + antipathy to 'Squire Lovelace, whom they hate, they will have no patience + with you. + </p> + <p> + What will they do, Betty? They won't kill me? What will they do? + </p> + <p> + Kill you! No!—But you will not be suffered to stir from thence, till + you have complied with your duty. And no pen and ink will be allowed you + as here; where they are of opinion you make no good use of it: nor would + it be allowed here, only as they intend so soon to send you away to your + uncle's. No-body will be permitted to see you, or to correspond with you. + What farther will be done, I can't say; and, if I could, it may not be + proper. But you may prevent all, by one word: and I wish you would, Miss. + All then would be easy and happy. And, if I may speak my mind, I see not + why one man is not as good as another: why, especially, a sober man is not + as good as a rake. + </p> + <p> + Well, Betty, said I, sighing, all thy impertinence goes for nothing. But I + see I am destined to be a very unhappy creature. Yet I will venture upon + one request more to them. + </p> + <p> + And so, quite sick of the pert creature and of myself, I retired to my + closet, and wrote a few lines to my uncle Harlowe, notwithstanding his + prohibition; in order to get a reprieve from being carried away so soon as + Thursday next, if I must go. And this, that I might, if complied with, + suspend the appointment I have made with Mr. Lovelace; for my heart + misgives me as to meeting him; and that more and more; I know not why. + Under the superscription of the letter, I wrote these words: 'Pray, dear + Sir, be pleased to give this a reading.' + </p> + <p> + This is a copy of what I wrote: + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY AFTERNOON. HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + Let me this once be heard with patience, and have my petition granted. It + is only, that I may not be hurried away so soon as next Thursday. + </p> + <p> + Why should the poor girl be turned out of doors so suddenly, so + disgracefully? Procure for me, Sir, one fortnight's respite. In that space + of time, I hope you will all relent. My mamma shall not need to shut her + door in apprehension of seeing her disgraceful child. I will not presume + to think of entering her presence, or my papa's without leave. One + fortnight's respite is but a small favour for them to grant, except I am + to be refused every thing I ask; but it is of the highest import to my + peace of mind. Procure it for me, therefore, dearest Sir; and you will + exceedingly oblige + </p> + <p> + Your dutiful, though greatly afflicted niece, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + I sent this down: my uncle was not gone: and he now stays to know the + result of the question put to me in the enclosed answer which he has given + to mind. + </p> + <p> + Your going to your uncle's was absolutely concluded upon for next + Thursday. Nevertheless, your mother, seconded by Mr. Solmes, pleaded so + strongly to have you indulged, that your request for a delay will be + complied with, upon one condition; and whether for a fortnight, or a + shorter time, that will depend upon yourself. If you refuse the condition, + your mother declares she will give over all further intercession for you.—Nor + do you deserve this favour, as you put it upon our yielding to you, not + you to us. + </p> + <p> + This condition is, that you admit of a visit from Mr. Solmes, for one + hour, in company of your brother, your sister, or your uncle Antony, + choose who you will. + </p> + <p> + If you comply not, go next Thursday to a house which is become strangely + odious to you of late, whether you get ready to go or not. Answer + therefore directly to the point. No evasion. Name your day and hour. Mr. + Solmes will neither eat you, nor drink you. Let us see, whether we are to + be complied with in any thing, or not. + </p> + <p> + JOHN HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + After a very little deliberation, I resolved to comply with this + condition. All I fear is, that Mr. Lovelace's intelligencer may inform him + of it; and that his apprehensions upon it may make him take some desperate + resolution: especially as now (having more time given me here) I think to + write to him to suspend the interview he is possibly so sure of. I sent + down the following to my uncle: + </p> + <p> + HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + Although I see not what end the proposed condition can answer, I comply + with it. I wish I could with every thing expected of me. If I must name + one, in whose company I am to see the gentleman, and that one not my + mamma, whose presence I could wish to be honoured by on the occasion, let + my uncle, if he pleases, be the person. If I must name the day, (a long + day, I doubt, will not be permitted me,) let it be next Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + The hour, four in the afternoon. The place either the ivy summer-house, or + in the little parlour I used to be permitted to call mine. + </p> + <p> + Be pleased, Sir, nevertheless, to prevail upon my mamma, to vouchsafe me + her presence on the occasion. + </p> + <p> + I am, Sir, your ever-dutiful CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + A reply is just sent me. I thought it became my averseness to this + meeting, to name a distant day: but I did not expect they would have + complied with it. So here is one week gained! + </p> + <p> + This is the reply: + </p> + <p> + You have done well to comply. We are willing to think the best of every + slight instance of duty from you. Yet have you seemed to consider the day + as an evil day, and so put if far off. This nevertheless is granted you, + as no time need to be lost, if you are as generous after the day, as we + are condescending before it. Let me advise you, not to harden your mind; + nor take up your resolution beforehand. Mr. Solmes has more awe, and even + terror, at the thought of seeing you, than you can have at the thoughts of + seeing him. His motive is love; let not yours be hatred. My brother Antony + will be present, in hopes you will deserve well of him, by behaving well + to the friend of the family. See you use him as such. Your mother had + permission to be there, if she thought fit: but says, she would not for a + thousand pound, unless you would encourage her beforehand as she wishes to + be encouraged. One hint I am to give you mean time. It is this: To make a + discreet use of your pen and ink. Methinks a young creature of niceness + should be less ready to write to one man, when she is designed to be + another's. + </p> + <p> + This compliance, I hope, will produce greater, and then the peace of the + family will be restored: which is what is heartily wished by + </p> + <p> + Your loving uncle, JOHN HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + Unless it be to the purpose our hearts are set upon, you need not write + again. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + This man have more terror at seeing me, than I can have at seeing him!—How + can that be? If he had half as much, he would not wish to see me!—His + motive love!—Yes, indeed! Love of himself! He knows no other; for + love, that deserves the name, seeks the satisfaction of the beloved object + more than its own. Weighed in this scale, what a profanation is this man + guilty of! + </p> + <p> + Not to take up my resolution beforehand!—That advice comes too late. + </p> + <p> + But I must make a discreet use of my pen. That, I doubt, as they have + managed it, in the sense they mean it, is as much out of my power, as the + other. + </p> + <p> + But write to one man, when I am designed for another!—What a + shocking expression is that! + </p> + <p> + Repenting of my appointment with Mr. Lovelace before I had this favour + granted me, you may believe I hesitated not a moment to revoke it now that + I had gained such a respite. Accordingly, I wrote, 'That I found it + inconvenient to meet him, as I had intended: that the risque I should run + of a discovery, and the mischiefs that might flow from it, could not be + justified by any end that such a meeting could answer: that I found one + certain servant more in my way, when I took my morning and evening + airings, than any other: that the person who might reveal the secrets of a + family to him, might, if opportunity were given him, betray me, or him, to + those whom it was his duty to serve: that I had not been used to a conduct + so faulty, as to lay myself at the mercy of servants: and was sorry he had + measures to pursue, that made steps necessary in his own opinion, which, + in mine, were very culpable, and which no end could justify: that things + drawing towards a crisis between my friends and me, an interview could + avail nothing; especially as the method by which this correspondence was + carried on was not suspected, and he could write all that was in his mind + to write: that I expected to be at liberty to judge of what was proper and + fit upon this occasion: especially as he might be assured, that I would + sooner choose death, than Mr. Solmes.' + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + I have deposited my letter to Mr. Lovelace. Threatening as things look + against me, I am much better pleased with myself for declining the + interview than I was before. I suppose he will be a little out of humour + upon it, however: but as I reserved to myself the liberty of changing my + mind; and as it is easy for him to imagine there may be reasons for it + within-doors, which he cannot judge of without; besides those I have + suggested, which of themselves are of sufficient weight to engage his + acquiescence; I should think it strange, if he acquiesces not on this + occasion, and that with a cheerfulness, which may shew me, that his last + letter is written from his heart: For, if he be really so much concerned + at his past faults, as he pretends, and has for some time pretended, must + he not, of course, have corrected, in some degree, the impetuosity of his + temper? The first step to reformation, as I conceive, is to subdue sudden + gusts of passion, from which frequently the greatest evils arise, and to + learn to bear disappointments. If the irascible passions cannot be + overcome, what opinion can we have of the person's power over those to + which bad habit, joined to greater temptation, gives stronger force? + </p> + <p> + Pray, my dear, be so kind as to make inquiry, by some safe hand, after the + disguises Mr. Lovelace assumes at the inn he puts up at in the poor + village of Neale, he calls it. If it be the same I take it to be, I never + knew it was considerable enough to have a name; nor that it has an inn in + it. + </p> + <p> + As he must, to be so constantly near us, be much there, I would be glad to + have some account of his behaviour; and what the people think of him. In + such a length of time, he must by his conduct either give scandal, or hope + of reformation. Pray, my dear, humour me in this inquiry. I have reason + for it, which you shall be acquainted with another time, if the result of + the inquiry discover them not. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY MORNING, NINE O'CLOCK. + </h3> + <p> + I am just returned from my morning walk, and already have received a + letter from Mr. Lovelace in answer to mine deposited last night. He must + have had pen, ink, and paper with him; for it was written in the coppice; + with this circumstance: On one knee, kneeling with the other. Not from + reverence to the written to, however, as you'll find! + </p> + <p> + Well we are instructed early to keep these men at distance. An undesigning + open heart, where it is loth to disoblige, is easily drawn in, I see, to + oblige more than ever it designed. It is too apt to govern itself by what + a bold spirit is encouraged to expect of it. It is very difficult for a + good-natured young person to give a negative where it disesteems not. + </p> + <p> + Our hearts may harden and contract, as we gain experience, and when we + have smarted perhaps for our easy folly: and so they ought, or we should + be upon very unequal terms with the world. + </p> + <p> + Excuse these grave reflections. This man has vexed me heartily. I see his + gentleness was art: fierceness, and a temper like what I have been too + much used to at home, are Nature in him. Nothing, I think, shall ever make + me forgive him; for, surely, there can be no good reason for his + impatience on an expectation given with reserve, and revocable.—I so + much to suffer through him; yet, to be treated as if I were obliged to + bear insults from him—! + </p> + <p> + But here you will be pleased to read his letter; which I shall enclose. + </p> + <p> + TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE GOOD GOD! + </p> + <p> + What is now to become of me!—How shall I support this + disappointment!—No new cause!—On one knee, kneeling with the + other, I write!—My feet benumbed with midnight wanderings through + the heaviest dews that ever fell: my wig and my linen dripping with the + hoar frost dissolving on them!—Day but just breaking—Sun not + risen to exhale—May it never rise again!—Unless it bring + healing and comfort to a benighted soul! In proportion to the joy you had + inspired (ever lovely promiser!) in such proportion is my anguish! + </p> + <p> + O my beloved creature!—But are not your very excuses confessions of + excuses inexcusable? I know not what I write!—That servant in your + way!* By the great God of Heaven, that servant was not, dared not, could + not, be in your way!—Curse upon the cool caution that is pleased to + deprive me of an expectation so transporting! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Letter XIX. +</pre> + <p> + And are things drawing towards a crisis between your friends and you?—Is + not this a reason for me to expect, the rather to expect, the promised + interview? + </p> + <p> + CAN I write all that is in my mind, say you?—Impossible!—Not + the hundredth part of what is in my mind, and in my apprehension, can I + write! + </p> + <p> + Oh! the wavering, the changeable sex!—But can Miss Clarissa Harlowe— + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, Madam!—I know not what I write! + </p> + <p> + Yet, I must, I do, insist upon your promise—or that you will + condescend to find better excuses for the failure—or convince me, + that stronger reasons are imposed upon you, than those you offer.—A + promise once given (upon deliberation given,) the promised only can + dispense with; except in cases of a very apparent necessity imposed upon + the promiser, which leaves no power to perform it. + </p> + <p> + The first promise you ever made me! Life and death perhaps depending upon + it—my heart desponding from the barbarous methods resolved to be + taken with you in malice to me! + </p> + <p> + You would sooner choose death than Solmes. (How my soul spurns the + competition!) O my beloved creature, what are these but words?—Whose + words?—Sweet and ever adorable—What?—Promise breaker—must + I call you?—How shall I believe the asseveration, (your supposed + duty in the question! Persecution so flaming!—Hatred to me so + strongly avowed!) after this instance of you so lightly dispensing with + your promise? + </p> + <p> + If, my dearest life! you would prevent my distraction, or, at least, + distracted consequences, renew the promised hope!—My fate is indeed + upon its crisis. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, dearest creature, forgive me!—I know I have written in + too much anguish of mind!—Writing this, in the same moment that the + just dawning light has imparted to me the heavy disappointment. + </p> + <p> + I dare not re-peruse what I have written. I must deposit it. It may serve + to shew you my distracted apprehension that this disappointment is but a + prelude to the greatest of all.—Nor, having here any other paper, am + I able to write again, if I would, on this gloomy spot. (Gloomy is my + soul; and all Nature around me partakes of my gloom!)—I trust it + therefore to your goodness—if its fervour excite your displeasure + rather than your pity, you wrong my passion; and I shall be ready to + apprehend, that I am intended to be the sacrifice of more miscreants than + one! [Have patience with me, dearest creature!—I mean Solmes and + your brother only.] But if, exerting your usual generosity, you will + excuse and re appoint, may that God, whom you profess to serve, and who is + the God of truth and of promises, protect and bless you, for both; and for + restoring to himself, and to hope, + </p> + <p> + Your ever-adoring, yet almost desponding, LOVELACE! + </p> + <p> + Ivy Cavern, in the Coppice—Day but just breaking. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + This is the answer I shall return: + </p> + <p> + WEDNESDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + I am amazed, Sir, at the freedom of your reproaches. Pressed and teased, + against convenience and inclination, to give you a private meeting, am I + to be thus challenged and upbraided, and my sex reflected upon, because I + thought it prudent to change my mind?—A liberty I had reserved to + myself, when I made the appointment, as you call it. I wanted not + instances of your impatient spirit to other people: yet may it be happy + for me, that I can have this new one; which shows, that you can as little + spare me, when I pursue the dictates of my own reason, as you do others, + for acting up to theirs. Two motives you must be governed by in this + excess. The one my easiness; the other your own presumption. Since you + think you have found out the first, and have shown so much of the last + upon it, I am too much alarmed, not to wish and desire, that your letter + of this day may conclude all the trouble you had from, or for, + </p> + <p> + Your humble servant, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I believe, my dear, I may promise myself your approbation, whenever I + write or speak with spirit, be it to whom it will. Indeed, I find but too + much reason to exert it, since I have to deal with people, who govern + themselves in their conduct to me, not by what is fit or decent, right or + wrong, but by what they think my temper will bear. I have, till very + lately, been praised for mine; but it has always been by those who never + gave me opportunity to return the compliment to them. Some people have + acted, as if they thought forbearance on one side absolutely necessary for + them and me to be upon good terms together; and in this case have ever + taken care rather to owe that obligation than to lay it. You have hinted + to me, that resentment is not natural to my temper, and that therefore it + must soon subside: it may be so with respect to my relations; but not to + Mr. Lovelace, I assure you. + </p> + <p> + WEDNESDAY NOON, MARCH 29. + </p> + <p> + We cannot always answer for what we can do: but to convince you, that I + can keep my above resolution, with regard to Mr. Lovelace, angry as my + letter is, and three hours since it was written, I assure you, that I + repent it not; nor will soften it, although I find it is not taken away. + And yet I hardly ever before did any thing in anger, that I did not repent + in half an hour; and question myself in less that that time, whether I was + right or wrong. + </p> + <p> + In this respite till Tuesday, I have a little time to look about me, as I + may say, and to consider of what I have to do, and can do. And Mr. + Lovelace's insolence will make me go very home with myself. Not that I + think I can conquer my aversion to Mr. Solmes. I am sure I cannot. But, if + I absolutely break with Mr. Lovelace, and give my friends convincing + proofs of it, who knows but they will restore me to their favour, and let + their views in relation to the other man go off by degrees?—Or, at + least, that I may be safe till my cousin Morden arrives: to whom, I think, + I will write; and the rather, as Mr. Lovelace has assured me, that my + friends have written to him to make good their side of the question. + </p> + <p> + But, with all my courage, I am exceedingly apprehensive about the Tuesday + next, and about what may result from my steadfastness; for steadfast I am + sure I shall be. They are resolved, I am told, to try every means to + induce me to comply with what they are determined upon. And I am resolved + to do all I can to avoid what they would force me to do. A dreadful + contention between parents and child!—Each hoping to leave the other + without excuse, whatever the consequence may be. + </p> + <p> + What can I do? Advise me, my dear. Something is strangely wrong somewhere! + to make parents, the most indulgent till now, seem cruel in a child's eye; + and a daughter, till within these few weeks, thought unexceptionably + dutiful, appear, in their judgment, a rebel!—Oh! my ambitious and + violent brother! What may he have to answer for to both! + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to remember, my dear, that your last favour was dated on + Saturday. This is Wednesday: and none of mine have been taken away since. + Don't let me want you advice. My situation is extremely difficult.—But + I am sure you love me still: and not the less on that account. Adieu, my + beloved friend. + </p> + <p> + CL. HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING, DAY-BREAK, MARCH 30. + </p> + <p> + An accident, and not remissness, has occasioned my silence. + </p> + <p> + My mother was sent for on Sunday night by her cousin Larkin, whom I + mentioned in one of my former, and who was extremely earnest to see her. + </p> + <p> + This poor woman was always afraid of death, and was one of those weak + persons who imagine that the making of their will must be an undoubted + forerunner of it. + </p> + <p> + She had always said, when urged to the necessary work, That whenever she + made it, she should not live long after; and, one would think, imagined + she was under an obligation to prove her words: for, though she had been + long bed-rid, and was, in a manner, worn out before, yet she thought + herself better, till she was persuaded to make it: and from that moment, + remembering what she used to prognosticate, (her fears, helping on what + she feared, as is often the case, particularly in the small-pox,) grew + worse; and had it in her head once to burn her will, in hopes to grow + better upon it. + </p> + <p> + She sent my mother word, that the doctors had given her over: but that she + could not die till she saw her. I told my mother, That if she wished her a + chance for recovery, she should not, for that reason, go. But go she + would; and, what was worse, would make me go with her; and that, at an + hour's warning; for she said nothing of it to me, till she was rising in + the morning early, resolving to return again at night. Had there been more + time for argumentation, to be sure I had not gone; but as it was, there + was a kind of necessity that my preparation to obey her, should, in a + manner, accompany her command.—A command so much out of the way, on + such a solemn occasion! And this I represented: but to no purpose: There + never was such a contradicting girl in the world—My wisdom always + made her a fool!—But she would be obliged this time, proper or + improper. + </p> + <p> + I have but one way of accounting for this sudden whim of my mother; and + that is this—She had a mind to accept of Mr. Hickman's offer to + escort her:—and I verily believe [I wish I were quite sure of it] + had a mind to oblige him with my company—as far as I know, to keep + me out of worse. + </p> + <p> + For, would you believe it?—as sure as you are alive, she is afraid + for her favourite Hickman, because of the long visit your Lovelace, though + so much by accident, made me in her absence, last time she was at the same + place. I hope, my dear, you are not jealous too. But indeed I + now-and-then, when she teases me with praises which Hickman cannot + deserve, in return fall to praising those qualities and personalities in + Lovelace, which the other never will have. Indeed I do love to tease a + little bit, that I do.—My mamma's girl—I had like to have + said. + </p> + <p> + As you know she is as passionate, as I am pert, you will not wonder to be + told, that we generally fall out on these occasions. She flies from me, at + the long run. It would be undutiful in me to leave her first—and + then I get an opportunity to pursue our correspondence. + </p> + <p> + For, now I am rambling, let me tell you, that she does not much favour + that;—for two reasons, I believe:—One, that I don't shew her + all that passes between us; the other, that she thinks I harden your mind + against your duty, as it is called. And with her, for a reason at home, as + I have hinted more than once, parents cannot do wrong; children cannot + oppose, and be right. This obliges me now-and-then to steal an hour, as I + may say, and not let her know how I am employed. + </p> + <p> + You may guess from what I have written, how averse I was to comply with + such an unreasonable stretch of motherly authority. But it came to be a + test of duty; so I was obliged to yield, though with a full persuasion of + being in the right. + </p> + <p> + I have always your reproofs upon these occasions: in your late letters + stronger than ever. A good reason why, you'll say, because more deserved + than ever. I thank you kindly for your correction. I hope to make + correction of it. But let me tell you, that your stripes, whether deserved + or not, have made me sensible, deeper than the skin—but of this + another time. + </p> + <p> + It was Monday afternoon before we reached the old lady's house. That + fiddling, parading fellow [you know who I mean] made us wait for him two + hours, and I to go to a journey I disliked! only for the sake of having a + little more tawdry upon his housings; which he had hurried his sadler to + put on, to make him look fine, being to escort his dear Madam Howe, and + her fair daughter. I told him, that I supposed he was afraid, that the + double solemnity in the case (that of the visit to a dying woman, and that + of his own countenance) would give him the appearance of an undertaker; to + avoid which, he ran into as bad an extreme, and I doubted would be taken + for a mountebank. + </p> + <p> + The man was confounded. He took it as strongly, as if his conscience gave + assent to the justice of the remark: otherwise he would have borne it + better; for he is used enough to this sort of treatment. I thought he + would have cried. I have heretofore observed, that on this side of the + contract, he seems to be a mighty meek sort of creature. And though I + should like it in him hereafter perhaps, yet I can't help despising him a + little in my heart for it now. I believe, my dear, we all love your + blustering fellows best; could we but direct the bluster, and bid it roar + when and at whom we pleased. + </p> + <p> + The poor man looked at my mother. She was so angry, (my airs upon it, and + my opposition to the journey, have all helped,) that for half the way she + would not speak to me. And when she did, it was, I wish I had not brought + you! You know not what it is to condescend. It is my fault, not Mr. + Hickman's, that you are here so much against your will. Have you no eyes + for this side of the chariot? + </p> + <p> + And then he fared the better from her, as he always does, for faring worse + from me: for there was, How do you now, Sir? And how do you now, Mr. + Hickman? as he ambled now on this side of the chariot, now on that, + stealing a prim look at me; her head half out of the chariot, kindly + smiling, as if married to the man but a fortnight herself: while I always + saw something to divert myself on the side of the chariot where the honest + man was not, were it but old Robin at a distance, on his roan Keffel. + </p> + <p> + Our courtship-days, they say, are our best days. Favour destroys + courtship. Distance increases it. Its essence is distance. And, to see how + familiar these men-wretches grow upon a smile, what an awe they are struck + into when we frown; who would not make them stand off? Who would not enjoy + a power, that is to be short-lived? + </p> + <p> + Don't chide me one bit for this, my dear. It is in nature. I can't help + it. Nay, for that matter, I love it, and wish not to help it. So spare + your gravity, I beseech you on this subject. I set up not for a perfect + character. The man will bear it. And what need you care? My mother + overbalances all he suffers: And if he thinks himself unhappy, he ought + never to be otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Then did he not deserve a fit of the sullens, think you, to make us lose + our dinner for his parade, since in so short a journey my mother would not + bait, and lose the opportunity of coming back that night, had the old + lady's condition permitted it? To say nothing of being the cause, that my + mamma was in the glout with her poor daughter all the way. + </p> + <p> + At our alighting I gave him another dab; but it was but a little one. Yet + the manner, and the air, made up (as I intended they should) for that + defect. My mother's hand was kindly put into his, with a simpering + altogether bridal; and with another How do you now, Sir?—All his + plump muscles were in motion, and a double charge of care and + obsequiousness fidgeted up his whole form, when he offered to me his + officious palm. My mother, when I was a girl, always bid me hold up my + head. I just then remembered her commands, and was dutiful—I never + held up my head so high. With an averted supercilious eye, and a rejecting + hand, half flourishing—I have no need of help, Sir!—You are in + my way. + </p> + <p> + He ran back, as if on wheels; with a face excessively mortified: I had + thoughts else to have followed the too-gentle touch, with a declaration, + that I had as many hands and feet as himself. But this would have been + telling him a piece of news, as to the latter, that I hope he had not the + presumption to guess at. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + We found the poor woman, as we thought, at the last gasp. Had we come + sooner, we could not have got away as we intended, that night. You see I + am for excusing the man all I can; and yet, I assure you, I have not so + much as a conditional liking to him. My mother sat up most part of the + night, expecting every hour would have been her poor cousin's last. I bore + her company till two. + </p> + <p> + I never saw the approaches of death in a grown person before; and was + extremely shocked. Death, to one in health, is a very terrible thing. We + pity the person for what she suffers: and we pity ourselves for what we + must some time hence in like sort suffer; and so are doubly affected. + </p> + <p> + She held out till Tuesday morning, eleven. As she had told my mother that + she had left her an executrix, and her and me rings and mourning; we were + employed all that day in matters of the will [by which, by the way, my own + cousin Jenny Fynnett is handsomely provided for], so that it was Wednesday + morning early, before we could set out on our return. + </p> + <p> + It is true, we got home (having no housings to stay for) by noon: but + though I sent Robin away before he dismounted, (who brought me back a + whole packet, down to the same Wednesday noon,) yet was I really so + fatigued, and shocked, as I must own, at the hard death of the old lady; + my mother likewise (who has no reason to dislike this world) being + indisposed from the same occasion; that I could not set about writing time + enough for Robin's return that night. + </p> + <p> + But having recruited my spirits, my mother having also had a good night, I + arose with the dawn, to write this, and get it dispatched time enough for + your breakfast airing; that your suspense might be as short as possible. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I will soon follow this with another. I will employ a person directly to + find out how Lovelace behaves himself at his inn. Such a busy spirit must + be traceable. + </p> + <p> + But, perhaps, my dear, you are indifferent now about him, or his + employments; for this request was made before he mortally offended you. + Nevertheless, I will have inquiry made. The result, it is very probable, + will be of use to confirm you in your present unforgiving temper.—And + yet, if the poor man [shall I pity him for you, my dear?] should be + deprived of the greatest blessing any man on earth can receive, and to + which he has the presumption, with so little merit, to aspire; he will + have run great risks; caught great colds; hazarded fevers; sustained the + highest indignities; braved the inclemencies of skies, and all for—nothing!—Will + not this move your generosity (if nothing else) in his favour!—Poor + Mr. Lovelace—! + </p> + <p> + I would occasion no throb; nor half-throb; no flash of sensibility, like + lightning darting in, and as soon suppressed by a discretion that no one + of the sex ever before could give such an example of—I would not, I + say; and yet, for such a trial of you to yourself, rather than as an + impertinent overflow of raillery in your friend, as money-takers try a + suspected guinea by the sound, let me on such a supposition, sound you, by + repeating, poor Mr. Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + And now, my dear, how is it with you? How do you now, as my mother says to + Mr. Hickman, when her pert daughter has made him look sorrowful? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. HICKMAN, TO MRS. HOWE WEDNESDAY, MARCH 29. + </h3> + <p> + MADAM, + </p> + <p> + It is with infinite regret that I think myself obliged, by pen and ink, to + repeat my apprehension, that it is impossible for me ever to obtain a + share in the affections of your beloved daughter. O that it were not too + evident to every one, as well as to myself, even to our very servants, + that my love for her, and my assiduities, expose me rather to her scorn + [forgive me, Madam, the hard word!] than to the treatment due to a man + whose proposals have met with your approbation, and who loves her above + all the women in the world! + </p> + <p> + Well might the merit of my passion be doubted, if, like Mr. Solmes to the + truly-admirably Miss Clarissa Harlowe, I could continue my addresses to + Miss Howe's distaste. Yet what will not the discontinuance cost me! + </p> + <p> + Give me leave, nevertheless, dearest, worthiest Lady, to repeat, what I + told you, on Monday night, at Mrs. Larkin's, with a heart even bursting + with grief, That I wanted not the treatment of that day to convince me, + that I am not, nor ever can be, the object of Miss Howe's voluntary + favour. What hopes can there be, that a lady will ever esteem, as a + husband, the man, whom, as a lover, she despises? Will not every act of + obligingness from such a one, be construed as an unmanly tameness of + spirit, and entitle him the more to her disdain?—My heart is full: + Forgive me, if I say, that Miss Howe's treatment of me does no credit + either to her education, or fine sense. + </p> + <p> + Since, then, it is too evident, that she cannot esteem me; and since, as I + have heard it justly observed by the excellent Miss Clarissa Harlowe, that + love is not a voluntary passion; would it not be ungenerous to subject the + dear daughter to the displeasure of a mother so justly fond of her; and + you, Madam, while you are so good as to interest yourself in my favour, to + uneasiness? And why, were I even to be sure, at last, of succeeding by + means of your kind partiality to me, should I wish to make the + best-beloved of my soul unhappy; since mutual must be our happiness, or + misery for life the consequence to both? + </p> + <p> + My best wishes will for ever attend the dear, the ever-dear lady! may her + nuptials be happy! they must be so, if she marry the man she can honour + with her love. Yet I will say, that whoever be the happy, the thrice-happy + man, he can never love her with a passion more ardent and more sincere + than mine. + </p> + <p> + Accept, dear Madam, of my most grateful thanks for a distinction that has + been the only support of my presumption in an address I am obliged, as + utterly hopeless, to discontinue. A distinction, on which (and not on my + own merits) I had entirely relied; but which, I find, can avail me + nothing. To the last hour of my life, it will give me pleasure to think, + that had your favour, your recommendation, been of sufficient weight to + conquer what seems to be an invincible aversion, I had been the happiest + of men. + </p> + <p> + I am, dear Madam, with inviolable respect, your ever obliged and faithful + humble servant, CHARLES HICKMAN. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + MRS. HOWE, TO CHARLES HICKMAN, ESQ. THURSDAY, MARCH 30. + </h3> + <p> + I cannot but say, Mr. Hickman, but you have cause to be dissatisfied—to + be out of humour—to be displeased—with Nancy—but, upon + my word; but indeed—What shall I say?—Yet this I will say, + that you good young gentlemen know nothing at all of our sex. Shall I tell + you—but why should I? And yet I will, that if Nancy did not think + well of you upon the main, she is too generous to treat you so freely as + she does.—Don't you think she has courage enough to tell me, she + would not see you, and to refuse at any time seeing you, as she knows on + what account you come, if she had not something in her head favourable to + you?—Fie! that I am forced to say thus much in writing, when I have + hinted it to you twenty and twenty times by word of mouth! + </p> + <p> + But if you are so indifferent, Mr. Hickman—if you think you can part + with her for her skittish tricks—if my interest in your favour—Why, + Mr. Hickman, I must tell you that my Nancy is worth bearing with. If she + be foolish—what is that owing to?—Is it not to her wit? Let me + tell you, Sir, you cannot have the convenience without the inconvenience. + What workman loves not a sharp tool to work with? But is there not more + danger from a sharp tool than from a blunt one? And what workman will + throw away a sharp tool, because it may cut his fingers? Wit may be + likened to a sharp tool. And there is something very pretty in wit, let me + tell you. Often and often have I been forced to smile at her arch turns + upon me, when I could have beat her for them. And, pray, don't I bear a + great deal from her?—And why? because I love her. And would you not + wish me to judge of your love for her by my own? And would not you bear + with her?—Don't you love her (what though with another sort of + love?) as well as I do? I do assure you, Sir, that if I thought you did + not—Well, but it is plain that you don't!—And is it plain that + you don't?—Well, then, you must do as you think best. + </p> + <p> + Well might the merit of your passion be doubted, you say, if, like Mr. + Solmes—fiddle-faddle!—Why, you are a captious man, I think!—Has + Nancy been so plain in her repulses of you as Miss Clary Harlowe has been + to Mr. Solmes?—Does Nancy love any man better than you, although she + may not shew so much love to you as you wish for?—If she did, let me + tell you, she would have let us all hear of it.—What idle + comparisons then! + </p> + <p> + But it mat be you are tired out. It may be you have seen somebody else—it + may be you would wish to change mistresses with that gay wretch Mr. + Lovelace. It may be too, that, in that case, Nancy would not be sorry to + change lovers—The truly-admirable Miss Clarissa Harlowe!—Good + lack!-but take care, Mr. Hickman, that you do not praise any woman living, + let her be as admirable and as excellent as she will, above your own + mistress. No polite man will do that, surely. And take care too, that you + do not make her or me think you are in earnest in your anger—just + though it may be, as anger only—I would not for a thousand pounds, + that Nancy should know that you can so easily part with her, if you have + the love for her which you declare you have. Be sure, if you are not + absolutely determined, that you do not so much as whisper the contents of + this your letter to your own heart, as I may say. + </p> + <p> + Her treatment of you, you say, does no credit either to her education or + fine sense. Very home put, truly! Nevertheless, so say I. But is not hers + the disgrace, more than yours? I can assure you, that every body blames + her for it. And why do they blame her?—Why? because they think you + merit better treatment at her hands: And is not this to your credit? Who + but pities you, and blames he? Do the servants, who, as you observe, see + her skittish airs, disrespect you for them? Do they not, at such times, + look concerned for you? Are they not then doubly officious in their + respects and services to you?—I have observed, with pleasure, that + they are. + </p> + <p> + But you are afraid you shall be thought tame, perhaps, when married. That + you shall not be though manly enough, I warrant!—And this was poor + Mr. Howe's fear. And many a tug did this lordly fear cost us both, God + knows!—Many more than needed, I am sure:—and more than ought + to have been, had he known how to bear and forbear; as is the duty of + those who pretend to have most sense—And, pray, which would you have + to have most sense, the woman or the man? + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, and now what remains, if you really love Nancy so well as you + say you do?—Why, I leave that to you. You may, if you please, come + to breakfast with me in the morning. But with no full heart, nor resenting + looks, I advise you; except you can brave it out. That have I, when + provoked, done many a time with my husband, but never did I get any thing + by it with my daughter: much less will you. Of which, for your + observation, I thought fit to advise you. As from + </p> + <p> + Your friend, Anabella Howe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING. + </h3> + <p> + I will now take some notice of your last favour. But being so far + behind-hand with you, must be brief. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, as to your reproofs, thus shall I discharge myself of + that part of my subject. Is it likely, think you, that I should avoid + deserving them now-and-then, occasionally, when I admire the manner in + which you give me your rebukes, and love you the better for them? And when + you are so well entitled to give them? For what faults can you possibly + have, unless your relations are so kind as to find you a few to keep their + many in countenance?—But they are as king to me in this, as to you; + for I may venture to affirm, That any one who should read your letters, + and would say you were right, would not on reading mine, condemn me for + them quite wrong. + </p> + <p> + Your resolution not to leave your father's house is right—if you can + stay in it, and avoid being Solmes's wife. + </p> + <p> + I think you have answered Solmes's letter, as I should have answered it.—Will + you not compliment me and yourself at once, by saying, that was right? + </p> + <p> + You have, in your letters to your uncle and the rest, done all that you + ought to do. You are wholly guiltless of the consequence, be it what it + will. To offer to give up your estate!—That would not I have done! + You see this offer staggered them: they took time to consider of it. They + made my heart ache in the time they took. I was afraid they would have + taken you at your word: and so, but for shame, and for fear of Lovelace, I + dare say they would. You are too noble for them. This, I repeat, is an + offer I would not have made. Let me beg of you, my dear, never to repeat + the temptation to them. + </p> + <p> + I freely own to you, that their usage of you upon it, and Lovelace's + different treatment of you* in his letter received at the same time, would + have made me his, past redemption. The duce take the man, I was going to + say, for not having so much regard to his character and morals, as would + have entirely justified such a step in a CLARISSA, persecuted as she is! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Letter XVIII. +</pre> + <p> + I wonder not at your appointment with him. I may further touch upon some + part of this subject by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + Pray—pray—I pray you now, my dearest friend, contrive to send + your Betty Banes to me!—Does the Coventry Act extend to women, know + ye?—The least I will do, shall be, to send her home well soused in + and dragged through our deepest horsepond. I'll engage, if I get her + hither, that she will keep the anniversary of her deliverance as long as + she lives. + </p> + <p> + I wonder not at Lovelace's saucy answer, saucy as it really is.* If he + loves you as he ought, he must be vexed at so great a disappointment. The + man must have been a detestable hypocrite, I think, had he not shown his + vexation. Your expectations of such a christian command of temper in him, + in a disappointment of this nature especially, are too early by almost + half a century in a man of his constitution. But nevertheless I am very + far from blaming you for your resentment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Letter XX. +</pre> + <p> + I shall be all impatience to know how this matter ends between you and + him. But a few inches of brick wall between you so lately; and now such + mountains?—And you think to hold it?—May be so! + </p> + <p> + You see, you say, that the temper he shewed in his letter was not natural + to him. Wretched creepers and insinuators! Yet when opportunity serves, as + insolent encroachers!—This very Hickman, I make no doubt, would be + as saucy as your Lovelace, if he dared. He has not half the arrogant + bravery of the other, and can better hide his horns; that's all. But + whenever he has the power, depend upon it, he will butt at one as + valiantly as the other. + </p> + <p> + If ever I should be persuaded to have him, I shall watch how the + obsequious lover goes off; and how the imperative husband comes upon him; + in short, how he ascends, and how I descend, in the matrimonial wheel, + never to take my turn again, but by fits and starts like the feeble + struggles of a sinking state for its dying liberty. + </p> + <p> + All good-natured men are passionate, says Mr. Lovelace. A pretty plea to a + beloved object in the plenitude of her power! As much as to say, 'Greatly + I value you, Madam, I will not take pains to curb my passions to oblige + you'—Methinks I should be glad to hear from Mr. Hickman such a plea + for good nature as this. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, we are too apt to make allowances for such tempers as early + indulgence has made uncontroulable; and therefore habitually evil. But if + a boisterous temper, when under obligation, is to be thus allowed for, + what, when the tables are turned, will it expect? You know a husband, who, + I fancy, had some of these early allowances made for him: and you see that + neither himself nor any body else is the happier for it. + </p> + <p> + The suiting of the tempers of two persons who are to come together, is a + great matter: and there should be boundaries fixed between them, by + consent as it were, beyond which neither should go: and each should hold + the other to it; or there would probably be encroachment in both. To + illustrate my assertion by a very high, and by a more manly (as some would + think it) than womanly instance—if the boundaries of the three + estates that constitute our political union were not known, and + occasionally asserted, what would become of the prerogatives and + privileges of each? The two branches of the legislature would encroach + upon each other; and the executive power would swallow up both. + </p> + <p> + But if two persons of discretion, you'll say, come together— + </p> + <p> + Ay, my dear, that's true: but, if none but persons of discretion were to + marry—And would it not surprise you if I were to advance, that the + persons of discretion are generally single?—Such persons are apt to + consider too much, to resolve.—Are not you and I complimented as + such?—And would either of us marry, if the fellows and our friends + would let us alone? + </p> + <p> + But to the former point;—had Lovelace made his addresses to me, + (unless indeed I had been taken with a liking for him more than + conditional,) I would have forbid him, upon the first passionate instance + of his good-nature, as he calls it, ever to see me more: 'Thou must bear + with me, honest friend, might I have said [had I condescended to say any + thing to him] an hundred times more than this:—Begone, therefore!—I + bear with no passions that are predominant to that thou has pretended for + me!' + </p> + <p> + But to one of your mild and gentle temper, it would be all one, were you + married, whether the man were a Lovelace or a Hickman in his spirit.—You + are so obediently principled, that perhaps you would have told a mild man, + that he must not entreat, but command; and that it was beneath him not to + exact from you the obedience you had so solemnly vowed to him at the + altar.—I know of old, my dear, your meek regard to that little + piddling part of the marriage-vow which some prerogative-monger foisted + into the office, to make that a duty, which he knew was not a right. + </p> + <p> + Our way of training-up, you say, makes us need the protection of the + brave. Very true: And how extremely brave and gallant is it, that this + brave man will free us from all insults but those which will go nearest to + our hearts; that is to say, his own! + </p> + <p> + How artfully has Lovelace, in the abstract you give me of one of his + letters, calculated to your meridian! Generous spirits hate compulsion!—He + is certainly a deeper creature by much than once we thought him. He knows, + as you intimate, that his own wild pranks cannot be concealed: and so owns + just enough to palliate (because it teaches you not to be surprised at) + any new one, that may come to your ears; and then, truly, he is, however + faulty, a mighty ingenuous man; and by no means an hypocrite: a character + the most odious of all others, to our sex, in a lover, and the least to be + forgiven, were it only because, when detected, it makes us doubt the + justice of those praises which we are willing to believe he thought to be + our due. + </p> + <p> + By means of this supposed ingenuity, Lovelace obtains a praise, instead of + a merited dispraise; and, like an absolved confessionaire, wipes off as he + goes along one score, to begin another: for an eye favourable to him will + not see his faults through a magnifying glass; nor will a woman, willing + to hope the best, forbear to impute it to ill-will and prejudice all that + charity can make so imputable. And if she even give credit to such of the + unfavourable imputations as may be too flagrant to be doubted, she will be + very apt to take in the future hope, which he inculcates, and which to + question would be to question her own power, and perhaps merit: and thus + may a woman be inclined to make a slight, even a fancied merit atone for + the most glaring vice. + </p> + <p> + I have a reason, a new one, for this preachment upon a text you have given + me. But, till I am better informed, I will not explain myself. If it come + out, as I shrewdly suspect it will, the man, my dear, is a devil; and you + must rather think of—I protest I had like to have said Solmes than + him. + </p> + <p> + But let this be as it will, shall I tell you, how, after all his offences, + he may creep in with you again? + </p> + <p> + I will. Thus then: It is but to claim for himself the good-natured + character: and this, granted, will blot out the fault of passionate + insolence: and so he will have nothing to do, but this hour to accustom + you to insult; the next, to bring you to forgive him, upon his submission: + the consequence must be, that he will, by this teazing, break your + resentment all to pieces: and then, a little more of the insult, and a + little less of the submission, on his part, will go down, till nothing + else but the first will be seen, and not a bit of the second. You will + then be afraid to provoke so offensive a spirit: and at last will be + brought so prettily, and so audibly, to pronounce the little reptile word + OBEY, that it will do one's heart good to hear you. The Muscovite wife + then takes place of the managed mistress. And if you doubt the + progression, be pleased, my dear, to take your mother's judgment upon it. + </p> + <p> + But no more of this just now. Your situation is become too critical to + permit me to dwell upon these sort of topics. And yet this is but an + affected levity with me. My heart, as I have heretofore said, is a sincere + sharer in all your distresses. My sun-shine darts but through a drizly + cloud. My eye, were you to see it, when it seems to you so gladdened, as + you mentioned in a former, is more than ready to overflow, even at the + very passages perhaps upon which you impute to me the archness of + exultation. + </p> + <p> + But now the unheard-of cruelty and perverseness of some of your friends + [relations, I should say—I am always blundering thus!] the as + strange determinedness of others; your present quarrel with Lovelace; and + your approaching interview with Solmes, from which you are right to + apprehend a great deal; are such considerable circumstances in your story, + that it is fit they should engross all my attention. + </p> + <p> + You ask me to advise you how to behave upon Solmes's visit. I cannot for + my life. I know they expect a great deal from it: you had not else had + your long day complied with. All I will say is, That if Solmes cannot be + prevailed for, now that Lovelace has so much offended you, he never will. + When the interview is over, I doubt not but that I shall have reason to + say, that all you did, that all you said, was right, and could not be + better: yet, if I don't think so, I won't say so; that I promise you. + </p> + <p> + Only let me advise you to pull up a spirit, even to your uncle, if there + be occasion. Resent the vile and foolish treatment you meet with, in which + he has taken so large a share, and make him ashamed of it, if you can. + </p> + <p> + I know not, upon recollection, but this interview may be a good thing for + you, however designed. For when Solmes sees (if that be to be so) that it + is impossible he should succeed with you; and your relations see it too; + the one must, I think, recede, and the other come to terms with you, upon + offers, that it is my opinion, will go hard enough with you to comply + with; when the still harder are dispensed with. + </p> + <p> + There are several passages in your last letters, as well as in your + former, which authorize me to say this. But it would be unseasonable to + touch this subject farther just now. + </p> + <p> + But, upon the whole, I have no patience to see you thus made sport of your + brother's and sister's cruelty: For what, after so much steadiness on your + part, in so many trials, can be their hope? except indeed it be to drive + you to extremity, and to ruin you in the opinion of your uncles as well as + father. + </p> + <p> + I urge you by all means to send out of their reach all the letters and + papers you would not have them see. Methinks, I would wish you to deposit + likewise a parcel of clothes, linen, and the like, before your interview + with Solmes: lest you should not have an opportunity for it afterwards. + Robin shall fetch it away on the first orders by day or by night. + </p> + <p> + I am in hopes to procure from my mother, if things come to extremity, + leave for you to be privately with us. + </p> + <p> + I will condition to be good-humoured, and even kind, to HER favourite, if + she will shew me an indulgence that shall make me serviceable to MINE. + </p> + <p> + This alternative has been a good while in my head. But as your foolish + uncle has so strangely attached my mother to their views, I cannot promise + that I shall succeed as I wish. + </p> + <p> + Do not absolutely despair, however. What though the contention will be + between woman and woman? I fancy I shall be able to manage it, by the help + of a little female perseverance. Your quarrel with Lovelace, if it + continue, will strengthen my hands. And the offers you made in your answer + to your uncle Harlowe's letter of Sunday night last, duly dwelt upon, must + add force to my pleas. + </p> + <p> + I depend upon your forgiveness of all the perhaps unseasonable flippancies + of your naturally too lively, yet most sincerely sympathizing, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, MARCH 31. + </h3> + <p> + You have very kindly accounted for your silence. People in misfortune are + always in doubt. They are too apt to turn even unavoidable accidents into + slights and neglects; especially in those whose favourable opinion they + wish to preserve. + </p> + <p> + I am sure I ought evermore to exempt my Anna Howe from the supposed + possibility of her becoming one of those who bask only in the sun-shine of + a friend: but nevertheless her friendship is too precious to me, not to + doubt my own merits on the one hand, and not to be anxious for the + preservation of it, on the other. + </p> + <p> + You so generously gave me liberty to chide you, that I am afraid of taking + it, because I could sooner mistrust my own judgment, than that of a + beloved friend, whose ingenuousness in acknowledging an imputed error + seems to set her above the commission of a wilful one. This makes me + half-afraid to ask you, if you think you are not too cruel, too ungenerous + shall I say? in your behaviour to a man who loves you so dearly, and is so + worthy and so sincere a man? + </p> + <p> + Only it is by YOU, or I should be ashamed to be outdone in that true + magnanimity, which makes one thankful for the wounds given by a true + friend. I believe I was guilty of a petulance, which nothing but my uneasy + situation can excuse; if that can. I am but almost afraid to beg of 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 my fault. What + patient shall be afraid of a probe in so delicate a hand?—I say, I + am almost afraid to pray you to give way to it, for fear you should, for + that very reason, restrain it. For the edge may be taken off, if it does + not make the subject of its raillery wince a little. Permitted or desired + satire may be apt, in a generous satirist, mending as it rallies, to turn + too soon into panegyric. Yours is intended to instruct; and though it + bites, it pleases at the same time: no fear of a wound's wrankling or + festering by so delicate a point as you carry; not envenomed by + personality, not intending to expose, or ridicule, or exasperate. The most + admired of our moderns know nothing of this art: Why? Because it must be + founded in good nature, and directed by a right heart. 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 answer any good purpose; when every + gash (for their weapon is a broad sword, not a lancet) lets in the air of + public ridicule, and exasperates where it should heal? Spare me not + therefore because I am your friend. For that very reason spare me not. I + may feel your edge, fine as it is. I may be pained: you would lose you end + if I were not: but after the first sensibility (as I have said more than + once before) I will love you the better, and my amended heart shall be all + yours; and it will then be more worthy to be yours. + </p> + <p> + 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 he will + apply to me to be excused. I will lay every thing before you that shall + 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 your correction, + or approbation, as I may happen to merit either.—Only one thing must + be allowed for me; that whatever course I shall be permitted or be forced + to steer, I must be considered as a person out of her own direction. 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 by the foaming billows of a + brother's and sister's envy, and by the raging winds of a supposed invaded + authority; while I see in Lovelace, the rocks 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 much + depend upon your success with your mother in my favour; for well I know + her high notions of implicit duty in a child: but yet I will hope too; + because her seasonable protection may save me perhaps from a greater + rashness: and in this case, she shall direct me in all my ways: I will do + nothing but by her orders, and by her advice and yours: not see any body: + not write to any body: nor shall any living soul, but by her direction and + yours, know where I am. In any cottage place me, I will never stir out, + unless, disguised as your servant, I am now-and-then permitted an + evening-walk with you: and this private protection to be granted for no + longer time than till my cousin Morden comes; which, as I hope, cannot be + long. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid I must not venture to take the hint you give me, to deposit + some of my clothes; although I will some of my linen, as well as papers. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you why—Betty had for some time been very curious about + my wardrobe, whenever I took out any of my things before her. + </p> + <p> + Observing this, I once, on taking one of my garden-airings, left my keys + in the locks: and on my return surprised the creature with her hand upon + the keys, as if shutting the door. + </p> + <p> + She was confounded at my sudden coming back. I took no notice: but on her + retiring, I found my cloaths were not in the usual order. + </p> + <p> + I doubted not, upon this, that her curiosity was owing to the orders she + had received; and being afraid they would abridge me of my airings, if + their suspicions were not obviated, it has ever since been my custom + (among other contrivances) not only to leave my keys in the locks, but to + 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 see that the + flowered silver suit did not tarnish: sometimes declaredly to give myself + employment, having little else to do. With which employment (superadded to + the delight taken by the low as well as by the high of our sex in seeing + fine cloaths) she seemed always, I thought, as well pleased as if it + answered one of the offices she had in charge. + </p> + <p> + To this, and to the confidence they have in a spy so diligent, and to + their knowing that I have not one confidant in a family in which + nevertheless I believe every servant loves me; nor have attempted to make + one; I suppose, I owe the freedom I enjoy of my airings: and perhaps + (finding I make no movements towards going away) they are the more secure, + that I shall at last be prevailed upon to comply with their measures: + since they must think, that, otherwise, they give me provocation enough to + take some rash step, in order to free myself from a treatment so + disgraceful; and which [God forgive me, if I judge amiss!] I am afraid my + brother and sister would not be sorry to drive me to take. + </p> + <p> + If, therefore, such a step should become necessary, (which I yet hope will + not,) I must be contented to go away with the clothes I shall have on at + the time. My custom to be dressed for the day, as soon as breakfast is + over, when I have had no household employments to prevent me, 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 be missed. + </p> + <p> + This custom, although a prisoner, (as I may too truly say,) and neither + visited 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 we should be + pained to be seen in. + </p> + <p> + Besides, people in adversity (which is the state of trial of every good + quality) should endeavour to preserve laudable customs, that, if sun shine + return, they may not be losers by their trial. + </p> + <p> + Does it not, moreover, manifest a firmness of mind, in an unhappy person, + to keep hope alive? To hope for better days, is half to deserve them: for + could we have just ground for such a hope, if we did not resolve to + deserve what that hope bids us aspire to?—Then who shall befriend a + person who forsakes herself? + </p> + <p> + These are reflections by which I sometimes endeavour to support myself. + </p> + <p> + I know you don't despise my grave airs, although (with a view no doubt to + irradiate my mind in my misfortunes) you rally me upon them. Every body + has not your talent of introducing serious and important lessons, in such + a happy manner as at once to delight and instruct. + </p> + <p> + What a multitude of contrivances may not young people fall upon, if the + mind be not engaged by acts of kindness and condescension! I am not used + by my friends of late as I always used their servants. + </p> + <p> + When I was intrusted with the family-management, I always found it right, + as well in policy as generosity, to repose a trust in them. Not to seem to + expect or depend upon justice from them, is in a manner to bid them to + take opportunities, whenever they offer, to be unjust. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes, (to expatiate on this low, but not unuseful subject,) in his + more trifling solicitudes, would have had a sorry key-keeper in me. Were I + mistress of a family, I would not either take to myself, or give to + servants, the pain of keeping those I had reason to suspect. People low in + 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 their + ambition induce a paramount pride, which too often swallows up the more + laudable one. + </p> + <p> + 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 forced to + put a servant right, whom I have heard say, that, although she valued + herself upon her honesty, no master or mistress should suspect her for + nothing. + </p> + <p> + How far has the comparison I had in my head, between my friends treatment + of me, and my treatment of the servants, carried me!—But we always + allowed ourselves to expatiate on such subjects, whether low or high, as + might tend to enlarge our minds, or mend our management, whether notional + or practical, and whether such expatiating respected our present, or might + respect our probable future situations. + </p> + <p> + What I was principally leading to, was to tell you how ingenious I am in + my contrivances and pretences to blind my gaoleress, and to take off the + jealousy of her principals on my going down so often into the garden and + poultry-yard. People suspiciously treated are never I believe at a loss + for invention. Sometimes I want air, and am better the moment I am out of + my chamber.—Sometimes spirits; and then my bantams and pheasants or + the cascade divert me; the former, by their inspiring liveliness; the + latter, by its echoing dashes, and hollow murmurs.—Sometimes, + solitude is of all things my wish; and the awful silence of the night, the + spangled element, and the rising and setting sun, how promotive of + contemplation!—Sometimes, when I intend nothing, and expect no + letters, I am officious to take Betty with me; and at others, bespeak her + attendance, when I know she is otherwise employed, and cannot give it me. + </p> + <p> + These more capital artifices I branch out into lesser ones, without + number. Yet all have not only the face of truth, but are real truths; + although not my principal motive. How prompt a thing is will!—What + impediments does dislike furnish!—How swiftly, through every + difficulty, do we move with the one!—how tardily with the other!—every + trifling obstruction weighing us down, as if lead were fastened to our + feet! + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY MORNING, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I have already made up my parcel of linen. My heart ached all the time I + was employed about it; and still aches, at the thoughts of its being a + necessary precaution. + </p> + <p> + When the parcel comes to your hands, as I hope it safely will, you will be + pleased to open it. You will find in it two parcels sealed up; one of + which contains the letters you have not yet seen; being those written + since I left you: in the other are all the letters and copies of letters + that have passed between you and me since I was last with you; with some + other papers on subjects so much above me, that I cannot wish them to be + seen 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Norton used to say, from her reverend father, that youth was the time + of life for imagination and fancy to work in: then, were a writer to lay + by his works till riper years and experience should direct the fire rather + to glow, than to flame out; something between both might perhaps be + produced that would not displease a judicious eye. + </p> + <p> + In a third division, folded up separately, are all Mr. Lovelace's letters + written to me since he was forbidden this house, and copies of my answers + to them. I expect that you will break the seals of this parcel, and when + you have perused them all, give me your free opinion of my conduct. + </p> + <p> + By the way, not a line from that man!—Not one line! Wednesday I + deposited mine. It remained there on Wednesday night. What time it was + taken away yesterday I cannot tell: for I did not concern myself about it, + till towards night; and then it was not there. No return at ten this day. + I suppose he is as much out of humour as I.—With all my heart. + </p> + <p> + 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, I + dare say, I never shall. + </p> + <p> + I see what sort of a man the encroacher is. And I hope we are equally sick + of one another.—My heart is vexedly easy, if I may so describe it.—Vexedly—because + of the apprehended interview with Solmes, and the consequences 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 of Solmes, as I presume I + am of Lovelace, their influence over my father, mother, and uncles, + against me, could not hold. + </p> + <p> + The five guineas tied up in one corner of a handkerchief under the linen, + I beg you will let pass as an acknowledgement for the trouble I give your + trusty servant. You must not chide me for this. You know I cannot be easy + unless I have my way in these little matters. + </p> + <p> + I was going to put up what little money I have, and some of my ornaments; + but they are portable, and I cannot forget them. Besides, should they + (suspecting me) desire to see any of the jewels, and were I not able to + produce them, it would amount to a demonstration of an intention which + would have a guilty appearance to them. + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY, ONE O'CLOCK, IN THE WOOD-HOUSE. + </p> + <p> + No letter yet from this man! I have luckily deposited my parcel, and have + 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 may believe, + from the contents of yours, that I shall immediately write again.— + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXVI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY NIGHT, MARCH 30. + </h3> + <p> + The fruits of my inquiry after your abominable wretch's behaviour and + baseness at the paltry alehouse, which he calls an inn, prepare to hear. + </p> + <p> + Wrens and sparrows are not too ignoble a quarry for this villainous + gos-hawk!—His assiduities; his watchings; his nightly risques; the + inclement weather he journeys in; must not be all placed to your account. + He has opportunities of making every thing light to him of that sort. A + sweet pretty girl, I am told—innocent till he went thither—Now! + (Ah! poor girl!) who knows what? + </p> + <p> + But just turned of seventeen!—His friend and brother-rake (a man of + humour and intrigue) as I am told, to share the social bottle with. And + sometimes another disguised rake or two. No sorrow comes near their + hearts. Be not disturbed, my dear, at his hoarsenesses! his pretty, + Betsey, his Rosebud, as the vile wretch calls her, can hear all he says. + </p> + <p> + He is very fond of her. They say she is innocent even yet—her + father, her grandmother, believe her to be so. He is to fortune her out to + a young lover!—Ah! the poor young lover!—Ah! the poor simple + girl! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman tells me, that he heard in town, that he used to be often at + plays, and at the opera, with women; and every time with a different one—Ah! + my sweet friend!—But I hope he is nothing to you, if all this were + truth.—But this intelligence, in relation to this poor girl, will do + his business, if you had been ever so good friends before. + </p> + <p> + A vile wretch! Cannot such purity in pursuit, in view, restrain him? but I + leave him to you!—There can be no hope of him. More of a fool, than + of such a man. Yet I wish I may be able to snatch the poor young creature + out of his villainous paws. I have laid a scheme to do so; if indeed she + be hitherto innocent and heart-free. + </p> + <p> + He appears to the people as a military man, in disguise, secreting himself + on account of a duel fought in town; the adversary's life in suspense. + They believe he is a great man. His friend passes for an inferior officer; + upon a footing of freedom with him. He, accompanied by a third man, who is + a sort of subordinate companion to the second. The wretch himself with but + one servant. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! how pleasantly can these devils, as I must call them, pass + their time, while our gentle bosoms heave with pity for their supposed + sufferings for us! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I have sent for this girl and her father; and am just now informed, that I + shall see them. I will sift them thoroughly. I shall soon find out such a + simple thing as this, if he has not corrupted her already—and if he + has, I shall soon find out that too.—If more art than nature appears + either in her or her father, I shall give them both up—but depend + upon it, the girl's undone. + </p> + <p> + He is said to be fond of her. He places her at the upper end of his table. + He sets her a-prattling. He keeps his friends at a distance from her. She + prates away. He admires for nature all she says. Once was heard to call + her charming little creature! An hundred has he called so no doubt. He + puts her upon singing. He praises her wild note—O my dear, the + girl's undone!—must be undone!—The man, you know, is LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + Let 'em bring Wyerley to you, if they will have you married—any body + but Solmes and Lovelace be yours!—So advises + </p> + <p> + Your ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + My dearest friend, consider this alehouse as his garrison: him as an + enemy: his brother-rakes as his assistants and abettors. Would not your + brother, would not your uncles, tremble, if they knew how near them he is, + as they pass to and fro?—I am told, he is resolved you shall not be + carried to your uncle Antony's.—What can you do, with or without + such an enterprising— + </p> + <p> + Fill up the blank I leave.—I cannot find a word bad enough + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXVII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, THREE O'CLOCK. + </h3> + <p> + You incense, alarm, and terrify me, at the same time.—Hasten, my + dearest friend, hasten to me what further intelligence you can gather + about this vilest of men. + </p> + <p> + But never talk of innocence, of simplicity, and this unhappy girl, + together! Must she not know, that such a man as that, dignified in his + very aspect; and no disguise able to conceal his being of condition; must + mean too much, when he places her at the upper end of his table, and calls + her by such tender names? Would a girl, modest as simple, above seventeen, + be set a-singing at the pleasure of such a man as that? a stranger, and + professedly in disguise!—Would her father and grandmother, if honest + people, and careful of their simple girl, permit such freedoms? + </p> + <p> + Keep his friend at a distance from her!—To be sure his designs are + villainous, if they have not been already effected. + </p> + <p> + Warn, my dear, if not too late, the unthinking father, of his child's + danger. There cannot be a father in the world, who would sell his child's + virtue. Nor mother!—The poor thing! + </p> + <p> + I long to hear the result of your intelligence. You shall see the simple + creature, you tell me.—Let me know what sort of a girl she is.—A + sweet pretty girl! you say. A sweet pretty girl, my dear!—They are + sweet pretty words from your pen. But are they yours or his of her?—If + she be so simple, if she have ease and nature in her manner, in her + speech, and warbles prettily her wild notes, why, such a girl as that must + engage such a profligate wretch, (as now indeed I doubt this man is,) + accustomed, perhaps, to town women, and their confident ways.—Must + deeply and for a long season engage him: since perhaps when her innocence + is departed, she will endeavour by art to supply the loss of the natural + charms which now engage him. + </p> + <p> + Fine hopes of such a wretch's reformation! I would not, my dear, for the + world, have any thing to say—but I need not make resolutions. I have + not opened, nor will I open, his letter.—A sycophant creature!—With + his hoarsenesses—got perhaps by a midnight revel, singing to his + wild note singer, and only increased in the coppice! + </p> + <p> + To be already on a footing!—In his esteem, I mean: for myself, I + despise him. I hate myself almost for writing so much about him, and of + such a simpleton as this sweet pretty girl as you call her: but no one can + be either sweet or pretty, that is not modest, that is not virtuous. + </p> + <p> + And now, my dear, I will tell you how I came to put you upon this inquiry. + </p> + <p> + This vile Joseph Leman had given a hint to Betty, and she to me, as if + Lovelace would be found out to be a very bad man, at a place where he had + been lately seen in disguise. But he would see further, he said, before he + told her more; and she promised secrecy, in hope to get at further + intelligence. I thought it could be no harm, to get you to inform + yourself, and me, of what could be gathered.* And now I see, his enemies + are but too well warranted in their reports of him: and, if the ruin of + this poor young creature be his aim, and if he had not known her but for + his visits to Harlowe-place, I shall have reason to be doubly concerned + for her; and doubly incensed against so vile a man. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It will be seen in Vol.I.Letter XXXIV. that Mr. Lovelace's + motive for sparing his Rosebud was twofold. First, Because + his pride was gratified by the grandmother's desiring him to + spare her grand-daughter. Many a pretty rogue, say he, had I + spared, whom I did not spare, had my power been + acknowledged, and my mercy in time implored. But the + debellare superbos should be my motto, were I to have a new + one. + + His other motive will be explained in the following passage, + in the same. I never was so honest, for so long together, + says he, since my matriculation. It behoves me so to be. + Some way or other my recess [at the little inn] may be found + out, and it then will be thought that my Rosebud has + attracted me. A report in my favour, from simplicities so + amiable, may establish me, &c. + + + Accordingly, as the reader will hereafter see, Mr. Lovelace + finds by the effects, his expectations from the contrivance + he set on foot by means of his agent Joseph Leman (who + plays, as above, upon Betty Barnes) fully answered, though + he could not know what passed on the occasion between the + two ladies. + + This explanation is the more necessary to be given, as + several of our readers (through want of due attention) have + attributed to Mr. Lovelace, on his behaviour to his Rosebud, + a greater merit than was due to him; and moreover imagined, + that it was improbable, that a man, who was capable of + acting so generously (as they supposed) in this instance, + should be guilty of any atrocious vileness. Not considering, + that love, pride, and revenge as he owns in Vol.I.Letter + XXXI. were ingredients of equal force in his composition; + and that resistance was a stimulus to him. +</pre> + <p> + I think I hate him worse than I do Solmes himself. + </p> + <p> + But I will not add one more word about hi,; and after I have told you, + that I wish to know, as soon as possible what further occurs from your + inquiry. I have a letter from him; but shall not open it till I do: and + then, if it come out as I dare say it will, I will directly put the letter + unopened into the place I took it from, and never trouble myself more + about him. Adieu, my dearest friend. + </p> + <p> + CL. HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE. FRIDAY NOON, MARCH 31. + </h3> + <p> + Justice obliges me to forward this after my last on the wings of the wind, + as I may say. I really believe the man is innocent. Of this one + accusation, I think he must be acquitted; and I am sorry I was so forward + in dispatching away my intelligence by halves. + </p> + <p> + I have seen the girl. She is really a very pretty, a very neat, and, what + is still a greater beauty, a very innocent young creature. He who could + have ruined such an undersigned home-bred, must have been indeed + infernally wicked. Her father is an honest simple man; entirely satisfied + with his child, and with her new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + I am almost afraid for your heart, when I tell you, that I find, now I + have got to the bottom of this inquiry, something noble come out in this + Lovelace's favour. + </p> + <p> + The girl is to be married next week; and this promoted and brought about + by him. He is resolved, her father says, to make one couple happy, and + wishes he could make more so [There's for you, my dear!] And she professes + to love, he has given her an hundred pounds: the grandmother actually has + it in her hands, to answer to the like sum given to the youth by one of + his own relation: while Mr. Lovelace's companion, attracted by the + example, has given twenty-five guineas to the father, who is poor, towards + clothes to equip the pretty rustic. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace and his friend, the poor man says, when they first came to + his house, affected to appear as persons of low degree; but now he knows + the one (but mentioned it in confidence) to be Colonel Barrow, the other + Captain Sloane. The colonel he owns was at first very sweet upon his girl: + but her grandmother's begging of him to spare her innocence, he vowed, + that he never would offer any thing but good counsel to her. He kept his + word; and the pretty fool acknowledged, that she never could have been + better instructed by the minister himself from the bible-book!—The + girl pleased me so well, that I made her visit to me worth her while. + </p> + <p> + But what, my dear, will become of us now?—Lovelace not only + reformed, but turned preacher!—What will become of us now?—Why, + my sweet friend, your generosity is now engaged in his favour!—Fie + upon this generosity! I think in my heart, that it does as much mischief + to the noble-minded, as love to the ignobler.—What before was only a + conditional liking, I am now afraid will turn to liking unconditional. + </p> + <p> + I could not endure to change my invective into panegyric all at once, and + so soon. We, or such as I at least, love to keep ourselves in countenance + for a rash judgment, even when we know it to be rash. Everybody has not + your generosity in confessing a mistake. It requires a greatness of soul + frankly to do it. So I made still further inquiry after his life and + manner, and behaviour there, in hopes to find something bad: but all + uniform! + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, Mr. Lovelace comes out with so much advantage from this + inquiry, that were there the least room for it, I should suspect the whole + to be a plot set on foot to wash a blackamoor white. Adieu, my dear. + </p> + <p> + ANNA HOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SATURDAY, APRIL 1. + </h3> + <p> + Hasty censures do indeed subject themselves to the charge of variableness + and inconsistency in judgment: and so they ought; for, if you, even you, + my dear, were so loth to own a mistake, as in the instance before us you + pretend you were, I believe I should not have loved you so well as I + really do love you. Nor could you, in that case, have so frankly thrown + the reflection I hint at upon yourself, have not your mind been one of the + most ingenuous that ever woman boasted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace has faults enow to deserve very severe censure, although he + be not guilty of this. If I were upon such terms with him as he could wish + me to be, I should give him such a hint, that this treacherous Joseph + Leman cannot be so much attached to him, as perhaps he thinks him to be. + If it were, he would not have been so ready to report to his disadvantage + (and to Betty Barnes too) this slight affair of the pretty rustic. Joseph + has engaged Betty to secrecy; promising to let her, and her young master, + to know more, when he knows the whole of the matter: and this hinders her + from mentioning it, as she is nevertheless agog to do, to my sister or + brother. And then she does not choose to disoblige Joseph; for although + she pretends to look above him, she listens, I believe, to some + love-stories he tells her. + </p> + <p> + Women having it not in their power to begin a courtship, some of them very + frequently, I believe, lend an ear where their hearts incline not. + </p> + <p> + But to say no more of these low people, neither of whom I think tolerably + of; I must needs own, that as I should for ever have despised this man, + had he been capable of such a vile intrigue in his way to Harlowe-place, + and as I believe he was capable of it, it has indeed [I own it has] + proportionably engaged my generosity, as you call it, in his favour: + perhaps more than I may have reason to wish it had. And, rally me as you + will, pray tell me fairly, my dear, would it not have had such an effect + upon you? + </p> + <p> + Then the real generosity of the act.—I protest, my beloved friend, + if he would be good for the rest of his life from this time, I would + forgive him a great many of his past errors, were it only for the + demonstration he has given in this, that he is capable of so good and + bountiful a manner of thinking. + </p> + <p> + You may believe I made no scruple to open his letter, after the receipt of + your second on this subject: nor shall I of answering it, as I have no + reason to find fault with it: an article in his favour, procured him, + however, so much the easier, (I must own,) by way of amends for the undue + displeasure I took against him; though he knows it not. + </p> + <p> + Is it lucky enough that this matter was cleared up to me by your friendly + diligence so soon: for had I written before it was, it would have been to + reinforce my dismission of him; and perhaps I should have mentioned the + very motive; for it affected me more than I think it ought: and then, what + an advantage would that have given him, when he could have cleared up the + matter so happily for himself! + </p> + <p> + When I send you this letter of his, you will see how very humble he is: + what acknowledgements of natural impatience: what confession of faults, as + you prognosticated. + </p> + <p> + A very different appearance, I must own, all these make, now the story of + the pretty rustic is cleared up, to what they would have made, had it not. + </p> + <p> + You will see how he accounts to me, 'That he could not, by reason of + indisposition, come for my letter in person: and the forward creature + labours the point, as if he thought I should be uneasy that he did not.' I + am indeed sorry he should be ill on my account; and I will allow, that the + suspense he has been in for some time past, must have been vexatious + enough to so impatient a spirit. But all is owing originally to himself. + </p> + <p> + You will find him (in the presumption of being forgiven) 'full of + contrivances and expedients for my escaping my threatened compulsion.' + </p> + <p> + I have always said, that next to being without fault, is the + acknowledgement of a fault; since no amendment can be expected where an + error is defended: but you will see in this very letter, an haughtiness + even in his submissions. 'Tis true, I know not where to find fault as to + the expression; yet cannot I be satisfied, that his humility is humility; + or even an humility upon such conviction as one should be pleased with. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, he is far from being a polite man: yet is not directly and + characteristically, as I may say, unpolite. But his is such a sort of + politeness, as has, by a carelessness founded on very early indulgence, + and perhaps on too much success in riper years, and an arrogance built + upon both, grown into assuredness, and, of course, I may say, into + indelicacy. + </p> + <p> + The distance you recommend at which to keep these men, is certainly right + in the main: familiarity destroys reverence: But with whom?—Not with + those, surely, who are prudent, grateful, and generous. + </p> + <p> + But it is very difficult for persons, who would avoid running into one + extreme, to keep clear of another. Hence Mr. Lovelace, perhaps, thinks it + the mark of a great spirit to humour his pride, though at the expense of + his politeness: but can the man be a deep man, who knows not how to make + such distinctions as a person of but moderate parts cannot miss? + </p> + <p> + He complains heavily of my 'readiness to take mortal offence at him, and + to dismiss him for ever: it is a high conduct, he says, he must be frank + enough to tell me; a conduct that must be very far from contributing to + allay his apprehensions of the possibility that I may be prosecuted into + my relations' measures in behalf of Mr. Solmes.' + </p> + <p> + You will see how he puts his present and his future happiness, 'with + regard to both worlds, entirely upon me.' The ardour with which he vows + and promises, I think the heart only can dictate: how else can one guess + at a man's heart? + </p> + <p> + You will also see, 'that he has already heard of the interview I am to + have with Mr. Solmes;' and with what vehemence and anguish he expresses + himself on the occasion. I intend to take proper notice of the ignoble + means he stoops to, to come at his early intelligence of our family. If + persons pretending to principle, bear not their testimony against + unprincipled actions, what check can they have? + </p> + <p> + You will see, 'how passionately he presses me to oblige him with a few + lines, before the interview between Mr. Solmes and me takes place, (if, as + he says, it must take place,) to confirm his hope, that I have no view, in + my present displeasure against him, to give encouragement to Solmes. An + apprehension, he says, that he must be excused for repeating; especially + as the interview is a favour granted to that man, which I have refused to + him; since, as he infers, were it not with such an expectation, why should + my friends press it?' + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I have written; and to this effect: 'That I had never intended to write + another line to a man, who could take upon himself to reflect upon my sex + and myself, for having thought fit to make use of my own judgment. + </p> + <p> + 'I tell him, that I have submitted to the interview with Mr. Solmes, + purely as an act of duty, to shew my friends, that I will comply with + their commands as far as I can; and that I hope, when Mr. Solmes himself + shall see how determined I am, he will cease to prosecute a suit, in which + it is impossible he should succeed with my consent. + </p> + <p> + 'I assure him, that my aversion to Mr. Solmes is too sincere to permit me + to doubt myself on this occasion. But, nevertheless, he must not imagine, + that my rejecting of Mr. Solmes is in favour to him. That I value my + freedom and independency too much, if my friends will but leave me to my + own judgment, to give them up to a man so uncontroulable, and who shews me + beforehand what I have to expect from him, were I in his power. + </p> + <p> + 'I express my high disapprobation of the methods he takes to come at what + passes in a private family. The pretence of corrupting other people's + servants, by way of reprisal for the spies they have set upon him, I tell + him, is a very poor excuse; and no more than an attempt to justify one + meanness by another. + </p> + <p> + 'There is, I observe to him, a right and a wrong in every thing, let + people put what glosses they please upon their action. To condemn a + deviation, and to follow it by as great a one, what, I ask him, is this, + but propagating a general corruption?—A stand must be made somebody, + turn round the evil as many as may, or virtue will be lost: And shall it + not be I, a worthy mind would ask, that shall make this stand? + </p> + <p> + 'I leave him to judge, whether his be a worthy one, tried by this rule: + And whether, knowing the impetuosity of his own disposition, and the + improbability there is that my father and family will ever be reconciled + to him, I ought to encourage his hopes? + </p> + <p> + 'These spots and blemishes, I further tell him, give me not earnestness + enough for any sake but his own, to wish him in a juster and nobler train + of thinking and acting; for that I truly despised many of the ways he + allows himself in: our minds are therefore infinitely different: and as to + his professions of reformation, I must tell him, that profuse + acknowledgements, without amendment, are but to me as so many anticipating + concessions, which he may find much easier to make, thane either to defend + himself, or amend his errors. + </p> + <p> + 'I inform him, that I have been lately made acquainted' [and so I have by + Betty, and she by my brother] 'with the weak and wanton airs he gives + himself of declaiming against matrimony. I severely reprehend him on this + occasion: and ask him, with what view he can take so witless, so + despicable a liberty, in which only the most abandoned of men allow + themselves, and yet presume to address me? + </p> + <p> + 'I tell him, that if I am obliged to go to my uncle Antony's, it is not to + be inferred, that I must therefore necessarily be Mr. Solmes's wife: since + I must therefore so sure perhaps that the same exceptions lie so strongly + against my quitting a house to which I shall be forcibly carried, as if I + left my father's house: and, at the worst, I may be able to keep them in + suspense till my cousin Morden comes, who will have a right to put me in + possession of my grandfather's estate, if I insist upon it.' + </p> + <p> + This, I doubt, is somewhat of an artifice; which can only be excusable, as + it is principally designed to keep him out of mischief. For I have but + little hope, if carried thither, whether sensible or senseless, absolutely + if I am left to the mercy of my brother and sister, but they will + endeavour to force the solemn obligation upon me. Otherwise, were there + but any prospect of avoiding this, by delaying (or even by taking things + to make me ill, if nothing else would do,) till my cousin comes, I hope I + should not think of leaving even my uncle's house. For I should not know + how to square it to my own principles, to dispense with the duty I owe to + my father, wherever it shall be his will to place me. + </p> + <p> + But while you give me the charming hope, that, in order to avoid one man, + I shall not be under the necessity of throwing myself upon the friends of + the other; I think my case not desperate. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I see not any of my family, nor hear from them in any way of kindness. + This looks as if they themselves expected no great matters from the + Tuesday's conference which makes my heart flutter every time I think of + it. + </p> + <p> + My uncle Antony's presence on the occasion I do not much like: but I had + rather meet him than my brother or sister: yet my uncle is very impetuous. + I can't think Mr. Lovelace can be much more so; at least he cannot look + angry, as my uncle, with his harder features, can. These sea-prospered + gentlemen, as my uncle has often made me think, not used to any but + elemental controul, and even ready to buffet that, bluster often as + violently as the winds they are accustomed to be angry at. + </p> + <p> + I believe Mr. Solmes will look as much like a fool as I shall do, if it be + true, as my uncle Harlowe writes, and as Betty often tells me, that he is + as much afraid of seeing me, as I am of seeing him. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my happy, thrice-happy Miss Howe, who have no hard terms fixed to + your duty!—Who have nothing to do, but to fall in with a choice your + mother has made for you, to which you have not, nor can have, a just + objection: except the frowardness of our sex, as our free censurers would + perhaps take the liberty to say, makes it one, that the choice was your + mother's, at first hand. Perverse nature, we know, loves not to be + prescribed to; although youth is not so well qualified, either by + sedateness or experience, to choose for itself. + </p> + <p> + To know your own happiness, and that it is now, nor to leave it to after + reflection to look back upon the preferable past with a heavy and self + accusing heart, that you did not choose it when you might have chosen it, + is all that is necessary to complete your felicity!—And this power + is wished you by + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SATURDAY, APRIL 2. + </h3> + <p> + I ought yesterday to have acknowledged the receipt of your parcel. Robin + tells me, that the Joseph Leman, whom you mention as the traitor, saw him. + He was in the poultry-yard, and spoke to Robin over the bank which divides + that from the green-lane. 'What brings you hither, Mr. Robert?—But I + can tell. Hie away, as fast as you can.' + </p> + <p> + No doubt but their dependence upon this fellow's vigilance, and upon + Betty's, leaves you more at liberty in your airings, than you would + otherwise be. But you are the only person I ever heard of, who in such + circumstances had not some faithful servant to trust little offices to. A + poet, my dear, would not have gone to work for an Angelica, without giving + her her Violetta, her Cleante, her Clelia, or some such pretty-named + confidant—an old nurse at the least. + </p> + <p> + I read to my mother several passages of your letters. But your last + paragraph, in your yesterday's quite charmed her. You have won her heart + by it, she told me. And while her fit of gratitude for it lasted, I was + thinking to make my proposal, and to press it with all the earnestness I + could give it, when Hickman came in, making his legs, and stroking his + cravat and ruffles. + </p> + <p> + I could most freely have ruffled him for it. As it was—Sir, said I, + saw you not some of the servants?—Could not one of them have come in + before you? + </p> + <p> + He begged pardon: looked as if he knew not whether he had best keep his + ground, or withdraw:—Till my mother, his fast friend, interposed—Why, + Nancy, we are not upon particulars.—Pray, Mr. Hickman, sit down. + </p> + <p> + By your le—ave, good Madam, to me. You know his drawl, when his + muscles give him the respectful hesitation.— + </p> + <p> + Ay, ay, pray sit down, honest man, if you are weary—but by mamma, if + you please. I desire my hoop may have its full circumference. All they're + good for, that I know, is to clean dirty shoes, and to keep fellows at a + distance. + </p> + <p> + Strange girl! cried my mother, displeased; but with a milder turn, ay, ay, + Mr. Hickman, sit down by me: I have no such forbidding folly in my dress. + </p> + <p> + I looked serious; and in my heart was glad this speech of hers was not + made to your uncle Antony. + </p> + <p> + My mother, with the true widow's freedom, would mighty prudently have led + into the subject we had been upon; and would have had read to him, I + question not, that very paragraph in your letter which is so much in his + favour. He was highly obliged to dear Miss Harlowe, she would assure him; + that she did say— + </p> + <p> + But I asked him, if he had any news by his last letters from London?—A + question which he always understands to be a subject changer; for + otherwise I never put it. And so if he be but silent, I am not angry with + him that he answers it not. + </p> + <p> + I choose not to mention my proposal before him, till I know how it will be + relished by my mother. If it be not well received, perhaps I may employ + him on the occasion. Yet I don't like to owe him an obligation, if I could + help it. For men who have his views in their heads, do so parade it, so + strut about, if a woman condescend to employ them in her affairs, that one + has no patience with them. + </p> + <p> + However, if I find not an opportunity this day, I will make one to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + I shall not open either of your sealed-up parcels, but in your presence. + There is no need. Your conduct is out of all question with me: and by the + extracts you have given me from his letters and your own, I know all that + relates to the present situation of things between you. + </p> + <p> + I was going to give you a little flippant hint or two. But since you wish + to be thought superior to all our sex in the command of yourself; and + since indeed you deserve to be thought so; I will spare you. You are, + however, at times, more than half inclined to speak out. That you do not, + is only owing to a little bashful struggle between you and yourself, as I + may say. When that is quite got over, I know you will favour me + undisguisedly with the result. + </p> + <p> + I cannot forgive your taking upon me (at so extravagant a rate too) to pay + my mother's servants. Indeed I am, and I will be, angry with you for it. A + year's wages at once well nigh! only as, unknown to my mother, I make it + better for the servants according to their merits—how it made the + man stare!—And it may be his ruin too, as far as I know. If he + should buy a ring, and marry a sorry body in the neighbourhood with the + money, one would be loth, a twelvemonth hence, that the poor old fellow + should think he had reason to wish the bounty never conferred. + </p> + <p> + I MUST give you your way in these things, you say.—And I know there + is no contradicting you: for you were ever putting too great a value upon + little offices done for you, and too little upon the great ones you do for + others. The satisfaction you have in doing so, I grant it, repays you. But + why should you, by the nobleness of your mind, throw reproaches upon the + rest of the world? particularly, upon your own family—and upon ours + too? + </p> + <p> + If, as I have heard you say, it is a good rule to give WORDS the hearing, + but to form our judgment of men and things by DEEDS ONLY; what shall we + think of one, who seeks to find palliatives in words, for narrowness of + heart in the very persons her deeds so silently, yet so forcibly, reflect + upon? Why blush you not, my dear friend, to be thus singular?—When + you meet with another person whose mind is like your own, then display + your excellencies as you please: but till then, for pity's sake, let your + heart and your spirit suffer a little contradiction. + </p> + <p> + I intended to write but a few lines; chiefly to let you know your parcels + are come safe. And accordingly I began in a large hand; and I am already + come to the end of my second sheet. But I could write a quire without + hesitation upon a subject so copious and so beloved as is your praise. Not + for this single instance of your generosity; since I am really angry with + you for it; but for the benevolence exemplified in the whole tenor of your + life and action; of which this is but a common instance. Heaven direct + you, in your own arduous trials, is all I have room to add; and make you + as happy, as you think to be + </p> + <p> + Your own ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY NIGHT, APRIL 2. + </h3> + <p> + I have many new particulars to acquaint you with, that shew a great change + in the behaviour of my friends as I find we have. I will give these + particulars to you as they offered. + </p> + <p> + All the family was at church in the morning. They brought good Dr. Lewen + with them, in pursuance of a previous invitation. And the doctor sent up + to desire my permission to attend me in my own apartment. + </p> + <p> + You may believe it was easily granted. + </p> + <p> + So the doctor came up. + </p> + <p> + We had a conversation of near an hour before dinner: but, to my surprise, + he waved every thing that would have led me to the subject I supposed he + wanted to talk about. At last, I asked him, if it were not thought strange + I should be so long absent from church? He made me some handsome + compliments upon it: but said, for his part, he had ever made it a rule to + avoid interfering in the private concerns of families, unless desired to + do so. + </p> + <p> + I was prodigiously disappointed; but supposing that he was thought too + just a man to be made a judge of in this cause; I led no more to it: nor, + when he was called down to dinner, did he take the least notice of leaving + me behind him there. + </p> + <p> + But this was not the first time since my confinement that I thought it a + hardship not to dine below. And when I parted with him on the stairs, a + tear would burst its way; and he hurried down; his own good-natured eyes + glistening; for he saw it.—Nor trusted he his voice, lest the accent + I suppose should have discovered his concern; departing in silence; though + with his usual graceful obligingness. + </p> + <p> + I hear that he praised me, and my part in the conversation that passed + between us. To shew them, I suppose, that it was not upon the interesting + subjects which I make no doubt he was desired not to enter upon. + </p> + <p> + He left me so dissatisfied, yet so perplexed with this new way of + treatment, that I never found myself so much disconcerted, and out of my + train. + </p> + <p> + But I was to be more so. This was to be a day of puzzle to me. Pregnant + puzzle, if I may say so: for there must great meaning lie behind it. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, all but my brother and sister went to church with the + good doctor; who left his compliments for me. I took a walk in the garden. + My brother and sister walked in it too, and kept me in their eye a good + while, on purpose, as I thought, that I might see how gay and + good-humoured they were together. At last they came down the walk that I + was coming up, hand-in-hand, lover-like. + </p> + <p> + Your servant, Miss—your servant, Sir—passed between my brother + and me. + </p> + <p> + Is it not coldish, Clary! in a kinder voice than usual, said my sister, + and stopped.—I stopped and courtesied low to her half-courtesy.—I + think not, Sister, said I. + </p> + <p> + She went on. I courtesied without return; and proceeded, turning to my + poultry-yard. + </p> + <p> + By a shorter turn, arm-in-arm, they were there before me. + </p> + <p> + I think, Clary, said my brother, you must present me with some of this + breed, for Scotland. + </p> + <p> + If you please, Brother. + </p> + <p> + I'll choose for you, said my sister. + </p> + <p> + And while I fed them, they pointed to half a dozen: yet intending nothing + by it, I believe, but to shew a deal of love and good-humour to each other + before me. + </p> + <p> + My uncles next, (at their return from church) were to do me the honour of + their notice. They bid Betty tell me, they would drink tea with me in my + own apartment. Now, thought I, shall I have the subject of next Tuesday + enforced upon me. + </p> + <p> + But they contradicted the order for tea, and only my uncle Harlowe came up + to me. + </p> + <p> + Half-distant, half-affectionate, at his entering my chamber, was the air + he put on to his daughter-niece, as he used to call me; and I threw myself + at his feet, and besought his favour. + </p> + <p> + None of these discomposures, Child. None of these apprehensions. You will + now have every body's favour. All is coming about, my dear. I was + impatient to see you. I could no longer deny myself this satisfaction. He + then raised me, and kissed me, and called me charming creature! + </p> + <p> + But he waved entering into any interesting subject. All will be well now. + All will be right!—No more complainings! every body loves you!—I + only came to make my earliest court to you! [were his condescending words] + and to sit and talk of twenty and twenty fond things, as I used to do. And + let every past disagreeable thing be forgotten; as if nothing had + happened. + </p> + <p> + He understood me as beginning to hint at the disgrace of my confinement—No + disgrace my dear can fall to your lot: your reputation is too well + established.—I longed to see you, repeated me—I have seen + nobody half so amiable since I saw you last. + </p> + <p> + And again he kissed my cheek, my glowing cheek; for I was impatient, I was + vexed, to be thus, as I thought, played upon: And how could I be thankful + for a visit, that (it was now evident) was only a too humble artifice, to + draw me in against the next Tuesday, or to leave me inexcusable to them + all? + </p> + <p> + O my cunning brother!—This is his contrivance. And then my anger + made me recollect the triumph in his and my sister's fondness for each + other, as practised before me; and the mingled indignation flashing from + their eyes, as arm-in-arm they spoke to me, and the forced condescension + playing upon their lips, when they called me Clary, and Sister. + </p> + <p> + Do you think I could, with these reflections, look upon my uncle Harlowe's + visit as the favour he seemed desirous I should think it to be?—Indeed + I could not; and seeing him so studiously avoid all recrimination, as I + may call it, I gave into the affectation; and followed him in his talk of + indifferent things: while he seemed to admire this thing and that, as if + he had never seen them before; and now-and then condescendingly kissed the + hand that wrought some of the things he fixed his eyes upon; not so much + to admire them, as to find subjects to divert what was most in his head, + and in my heart. + </p> + <p> + At his going away—How can I leave you here by yourself, my dear? + you, whose company used to enliven us all. You are not expected down + indeed: but I protest I had a good mind to surprise your father and + mother!—If I thought nothing would arise that would be disagreeable—My + dear! my love! [O the dear artful gentleman! how could my uncle Harlowe so + dissemble?] What say you? Will you give me your hands? Will you see your + father? Can you stand his displeasure, on first seeing the dear creature + who has given him and all of us so much disturbance? Can you promise + future— + </p> + <p> + He saw me rising in my temper—Nay, my dear, interrupting himself, if + you cannot be all resignation, I would not have you think of it. + </p> + <p> + My heart, struggling between duty and warmth of temper, was full. You + know, my dear, I never could bear to be dealt meanly with!—How—how + can you, Sir! you my Papa-uncle—How can you, Sir!—The poor + girl!—for I could not speak with connexion. + </p> + <p> + Nay, my dear, if you cannot be all duty, all resignation—better stay + where you are.—But after the instance you have given— + </p> + <p> + Instance I have given!—What instance, Sir? + </p> + <p> + Well, well, Child, better stay where you are, if your past confinement + hangs so heavy upon you—but now there will be a sudden end to it—Adieu, + my dear!—Three words only—Let your compliance be sincere!—and + love me, as you used to love me—your Grandfather did not do so much + for you, as I will do for you. + </p> + <p> + Without suffering me to reply, he hurried away, as I thought, like one who + has been employed to act a part against his will, and was glad it was + over. + </p> + <p> + Don't you see, my dear Miss Howe, how they are all determined?—Have + I not reason to dread next Tuesday? + </p> + <p> + Up presently after came my sister:—to observe, I suppose, the way I + was in. + </p> + <p> + She found me in tears. + </p> + <p> + Have you not a Thomas a Kempis, Sister? with a stiff air. + </p> + <p> + I have, Madam. + </p> + <p> + Madam!—How long are we to be at this distance, Clary? + </p> + <p> + No longer, my dear Bella, if you allow me to call you sister. And I took + her hand. + </p> + <p> + No fawning neither, Girl! + </p> + <p> + I withdrew my hand as hastily, as you may believe I should have done, had + I, in feeling for one of your parcels under the wood, been bitten by a + viper. + </p> + <p> + I beg pardon, said I,—Too-too ready to make advances, I am always + subjecting myself to contempts. + </p> + <p> + People who know not how to keep a middle behaviour, said she, must ever do + so. + </p> + <p> + I will fetch you the Kempis, Sister. I did. Here it is. You will find + excellent things, Bella, in that little book. + </p> + <p> + I wish, retorted she, you had profited by them. + </p> + <p> + I wish you may, said I. Example from a sister older than one's self is a + fine thing. + </p> + <p> + Older! saucy little fool!—And away she flung. + </p> + <p> + What a captious old woman will my sister make, if she lives to be one!—demanding + the reverence, perhaps, yet not aiming at the merit; and ashamed of the + years that can only entitle her to the reverence. + </p> + <p> + It is plain, from what I have related, that they think they have got me at + some advantage by obtaining my consent to the interview: but if it were + not, Betty's impertinence just now would make it evident. She has been + complimenting me upon it; and upon the visit of my uncle Harlowe. She + says, the difficulty now is more than half over with me. She is sure I + would not see Mr. Solmes, but to have him. Now shall she be soon better + employed than of late she has been. All hands will be at work. She loves + dearly to have weddings go forward!—Who knows, whose turn will be + next? + </p> + <p> + I found in the afternoon a reply to my answer to Mr. Lovelace's letter. It + is full of promises, full of vows of gratitude, of eternal gratitude, is + his word, among others still more hyperbolic. Yet Mr. Lovelace, the least + of any man whose letters I have seen, runs into those elevated + absurdities. I should be apt to despise him for it, if he did. Such + language looks always to me, as if the flatterer thought to find a woman a + fool, or hoped to make her one. + </p> + <p> + 'He regrets my indifference to him; which puts all the hope he has in my + favour upon the shocking usage I receive from my friends. + </p> + <p> + 'As to my charge upon him of unpoliteness and uncontroulableness—What + [he asks] can he say? since being unable absolutely to vindicate himself, + he has too much ingenuousness to attempt to do so: yet is struck dumb by + my harsh construction, that his acknowledging temper is owing more to his + carelessness to defend himself, than to his inclination to amend. He had + never before met with the objections against his morals which I had + raised, justly raised: and he was resolved to obviate them. What is it, he + asks, that he has promised, but reformation by my example? And what + occasion for the promise, if he had not faults, and those very great ones, + to reform? He hopes acknowledgement of an error is no bad sign; although + my severe virtue has interpreted it into one. + </p> + <p> + 'He believes I may be right (severely right, he calls it) in my judgment + against making reprisals in the case of the intelligence he receives from + my family: he cannot charge himself to be of a temper that leads him to be + inquisitive into any body's private affairs; but hopes, that the + circumstances of the case, and the strange conduct of my friends, will + excuse him; especially when so much depends upon his knowing the movements + of a family so violently bent, by measures right or wrong, to carry their + point against me, in malice to him. People, he says, who act like angels, + ought to have angels to deal with. For his part, he has not yet learned + the difficult lesson of returning good for evil: and shall think himself + the less encouraged to learn it by the treatment I have met with from the + very persons who would trample upon him, as they do upon me, were he to + lay himself under their feet. + </p> + <p> + 'He excuses himself for the liberties he owns he has heretofore taken in + ridiculing the marriage-state. It is a subject, he says, that he has not + of late treated so lightly. He owns it to be so trite, so beaten a topic + with all libertines and witlings; so frothy, so empty, so nothing meaning, + so worn-out a theme, that he is heartily ashamed of himself, ever to have + made it his. He condemns it as a stupid reflection upon the laws and good + order of society, and upon a man's own ancestors: and in himself, who has + some reason to value himself upon his descent and alliances, more + censurable, than in those who have not the same advantages to boast of. He + promises to be more circumspect than ever, both in his words and actions, + that he may be more and more worthy of my approbation; and that he may + give an assurance before hand, that a foundation is laid in his mind for + my example to work upon with equal reputation and effect to us both;—if + he may be so happy to call me his. + </p> + <p> + 'He gives me up, as absolutely lost, if I go to my uncle Antony's; the + close confinement; the moated house; the chapel; the implacableness of my + brother and sister; and their power over the rest of the family, he sets + forth in strong lights; and plainly says, that he must have a struggle to + prevent my being carried thither.' + </p> + <p> + Your kind, your generous endeavours to interest your mother in my behalf, + will, I hope, prevent those harsher extremities to which I might be + otherwise driven. And to you I will fly, if permitted, and keep all my + promises, of not corresponding with any body, not seeing any body, but by + your mother's direction and yours. + </p> + <p> + I will close and deposit at this place. It is not necessary to say, how + much I am + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and obliged CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE + </h3> + <p> + I am glad my papers are safe in your hands. I will make it my endeavour to + deserve your good opinion, that I may not at once disgrace your judgment, + and my own heart. + </p> + <p> + I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace. He is extremely apprehensive of + the meeting I am to have with Mr. Solmes to-morrow. He says, 'that the + airs that wretch gives himself on the occasion add to his concern; and it + is with infinite difficulty that he prevails upon himself not to make him + a visit to let him know what he may expect, if compulsion be used towards + me in his favour. He assures me, that Solmes has actually talked with + tradesmen of new equipages, and names the people in town with whom he has + treated: that he has even' [Was there ever such a horrid wretch!] + 'allotted this and that apartment in his house, for a nursery, and other + offices.' + </p> + <p> + How shall I bear to hear such a creature talk of love to me? I shall be + out of all patience with him. Besides, I thought that he did not dare to + make or talk of these impudent preparations.—So inconsistent as such + are with my brother's views—but I fly the subject. + </p> + <p> + Upon this confidence of Solmes, you will less wonder at that of Lovelace, + 'in pressing me in the name of all his family, to escape from so + determined a violence as is intended to be offered to me at my uncle's: + that the forward contriver should propose Lord M.'s chariot and six to be + at the stile that leads up to the lonely coppice adjoining to our paddock. + You will see how audaciously he mentions settlements ready drawn; horsemen + ready to mount; and one of his cousins Montague to be in the chariot, or + at the George in the neighbouring village, waiting to accompany me to Lord + M.'s, or to Lady Betty's or Lady Sarah's, or to town, as I please; and + upon such orders, or conditions, and under such restrictions, as to + himself, as I shall prescribe.' + </p> + <p> + You will see how he threatens, 'To watch and waylay them, and to rescue me + as he calls it, by an armed force of friends and servants, if they attempt + to carry me against my will to my uncle's; and this, whether I give my + consent to the enterprise, or not:—since he shall have no hopes if I + am once there.' + </p> + <p> + O my dear friend! Who can think of these things, and not be extremely + miserable in her apprehensions! + </p> + <p> + This mischievous sex! What had I to do with any of them; or they with me?—I + had deserved this, were it by my own seeking, by my own giddiness, that I + had brought myself into this situation—I wish with all my heart—but + how foolish we are apt to wish when we find ourselves unhappy, and know + not how to help ourselves! + </p> + <p> + On your mother's goodness, however, is my reliance. If I can but avoid + being precipitated on either hand, till my cousin Morden arrives, a + reconciliation must follow; and all will be happy. + </p> + <p> + I have deposited a letter for Mr. Lovelace; in which 'I charge him, as he + would not disoblige me for ever, to avoid any rash step, any visit to Mr. + Solmes, which may be followed by acts of violence.' + </p> + <p> + I re-assure him, 'That I will sooner die than be that man's wife. + </p> + <p> + 'Whatever be my usage, whatever shall be the result of the apprehended + interview, I insist upon it that he presume not to offer violence to any + of my friends: and express myself highly displeased, that he should + presume upon such an interest in my esteem, as to think himself entitled + to dispute my father's authority in my removal to my uncle's; although I + tell him, that I will omit neither prayers nor contrivance, even to the + making myself ill, to avoid going.' + </p> + <p> + To-morrow is Tuesday! How soon comes upon us the day we dread!—Oh + that a deep sleep of twenty four hours would seize my faculties!—But + then the next day would be Tuesday, as to all the effects and purposes for + which I so much dread it. If this reach you before the event of the so + much apprehended interview can be known, pray for + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY MORNING, SIX O'CLOCK. + </h3> + <p> + The day is come!—I wish it were happily over. I have had a wretched + night. Hardly a wink have I slept, ruminating upon the approaching + interview. The very distance of time to which they consented, has added + solemnity to the meeting, which otherwise it would not have had. + </p> + <p> + A thoughtful mind is not a blessing to be coveted, unless it had such a + happy vivacity with it as yours: a vivacity, which enables a person to + enjoy the present, without being over-anxious about the future. + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I have had a visit from my aunt Hervey. Betty, in her alarming way, told + me, I should have a lady to breakfast with me, whom I little expected; + giving me to believe it was my mother. This fluttered me so much, on + hearing a lady coming up-stairs, supposing it was she, (and not knowing + how to account for her motives in such a visit, after I had been so long + banished from her presence,) that my aunt, at her entrance, took notice of + my disorder; and, after her first salutation, + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, said she, you seem surprised.—Upon my word, you + thoughtful young ladies have strange apprehensions about nothing at all. + What, taking my hand, can be the matter with you?—Why, my dear, + tremble, tremble, tremble, at this rate? You'll not be fit to be seen by + any body. Come, my love, kissing my cheek, pluck up a courage. By this + needless flutter on the approaching interview, when it is over you will + judge of your other antipathies, and laugh at yourself for giving way to + so apprehensive an imagination. + </p> + <p> + I said, that whatever we strongly imagined, was in its effect at the time + more than imaginary, although to others it might not appear so: that I had + not rested one hour all night: that the impertinent set over me, by giving + me room to think my mother was coming up, had so much disconcerted me, + that I should be very little qualified to see any body I disliked to see. + </p> + <p> + There was no accounting for these things, she said. Mr. Solmes last night + supposed he should be under as much agitation as I could be. + </p> + <p> + Who is it, then, Madam, that so reluctant an interview on both sides, is + to please? + </p> + <p> + Both of you, my dear, I hope, after the first flurries are over. The most + apprehensive beginnings, I have often known, make the happiest + conclusions. + </p> + <p> + There can be but one happy conclusion to the intended visit; and that is, + That both sides may be satisfied it will be the last. + </p> + <p> + She then represented how unhappy it would be for me, if I did not suffer + myself to be prevailed upon: she pressed me to receive Mr. Solmes as + became my education: and declared, that his apprehensions on the + expectation he had of seeing me, were owing to his love and his awe; + intimating, That true love is ever accompanied by fear and reverence; and + that no blustering, braving lover could deserve encouragement. + </p> + <p> + To this I answered, That constitution was to be considered: that a man of + spirit would act like one, and could do nothing meanly: that a creeping + mind would creep into every thing, where it had a view to obtain a benefit + by it; and insult, where it had power, and nothing to expect: that this + was not a point now to be determined with me: that I had said as much as I + could possibly say on the subject: that this interview was imposed upon + me: by those, indeed, who had a right to impose it: but that it was sorely + against my will complied with: and for this reason, that there was + aversion, not wilfulness, in the case; and so nothing could come of it, + but a pretence, as I much apprehended, to use me still more severely than + I had been used. + </p> + <p> + She was then pleased to charge me with prepossession and prejudice. She + expatiated upon the duty of a child. She imputed to me abundance of fine + qualities; but told me, that, in this case, that of persuadableness was + wanting to crown all. She insisted upon the merit of obedience, although + my will were not in it. From a little hint I gave of my still greater + dislike to see Mr. Solmes, on account of the freedom I had treated him + with, she talked to me of his forgiving disposition; of his infinite + respect for me; and I cannot tell what of this sort. + </p> + <p> + I never found myself so fretful in my life: and so I told my aunt; and + begged her pardon for it. But she said, it was well disguised then; for + she saw nothing but little tremors, which were usual with young ladies + when they were to see their admirers for the first time; and this might be + called so, with respect to me; since it was the first time I had consented + to see Mr. Solmes in that light—but that the next— + </p> + <p> + How, Madam, interrupted I—Is it then imagined, that I give this + meeting on that footing? + </p> + <p> + To be sure it is, Child. + </p> + <p> + To be sure it is, Madam! Then I do yet desire to decline it.—I will + not, I cannot, see him, if he expects me to see him upon those terms. + </p> + <p> + Niceness, punctilio, mere punctilio, Niece!—Can you think that your + appointment, (day, place, hour,) and knowing what the intent of it was, is + to be interpreted away as a mere ceremony, and to mean nothing?—Let + me tell you, my dear, your father, mother, uncles, every body, respect + this appointment as the first act of your compliance with their wills: and + therefore recede not, I desire you; but make a merit of what cannot be + avoided. + </p> + <p> + O the hideous wretch!—Pardon me, Madam.—I to be supposed to + meet such a man as that, with such a view! and he to be armed with such an + expectation!—But it cannot be that he expects it, whatever others + may do.—It is plain he cannot, by the fears he tell you all he shall + have to see me. If his hope were so audacious, he could not fear so much. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he has this hope; and justly founded too. But his fear arises from + his reverence, as I told you before. + </p> + <p> + His reverence!—his unworthiness!—'Tis so apparent, that even + he himself sees it, as well as every body else. Hence his offers to + purchase me! Hence it is, that settlements are to make up for acknowledged + want of merit! + </p> + <p> + His unworthiness, say you!—Not so fast, my dear. Does not this look + like setting a high value upon yourself?—We all have exalted notions + of your merit, Niece; but nevertheless, it would not be wrong, if you were + to arrogate less to yourself; though more were to be your due than your + friends attribute to you. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry, Madam, it should be thought arrogance in me, to suppose I am + not worthy of a better man than Mr. Solmes, both as to person and mind: + and as to fortune, I thank God I despise all that can be insisted upon in + his favour from so poor a plea. + </p> + <p> + She told me, It signified nothing to talk: I knew the expectation of every + one. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I did not. It was impossible I could think of such a strange + expectation, upon a compliance made only to shew I would comply in all + that was in my power to comply with. + </p> + <p> + I might easily, she said, have supposed, that every one thought I was + beginning to oblige them all, by the kind behaviour of my brother and + sister to me in the garden, last Sunday; by my sister's visit to me + afterwards in my chamber (although both more stiffly received by me, than + were either wished or expected); by my uncle Harlowe's affectionate visit + to me the same afternoon, not indeed so very gratefully received as I used + to receive his favours:—but this he kindly imputed to the + displeasure I had conceived at my confinement, and to my intention to come + off by degrees, that I might keep myself in countenance for my past + opposition. + </p> + <p> + See, my dear, the low cunning of that Sunday-management, which then so + much surprised me! And see the reason why Dr. Lewen was admitted to visit + me, yet forbore to enter upon a subject about which I thought he came to + talk to me!—For it seems there was no occasion to dispute with me on + the point I was to be supposed to have conceded to.—See, also, how + unfairly my brother and sister must have represented their pretended + kindness, when (though the had an end to answer by appearing kind) their + antipathy to me seems to have been so strong, that they could not help + insulting me by their arm-in-arm lover-like behaviour to each other; as my + sister afterwards likewise did, when she came to borrow my Kempis. + </p> + <p> + I lifted up my hands and eyes! I cannot, said I, give this treatment a + name! The end so unlikely to be answered by means so low! I know whose the + whole is! He that could get my uncle Harlowe to contribute his part, and + to procure the acquiescence of the rest of my friends to it, must have the + power to do any thing with them against me. + </p> + <p> + Again my aunt told me, that talking and invective, now I had given the + expectation, would signify nothing. She hoped I would not shew every one, + that they had been too forward in their constructions of my desire to + oblige them. She could assure me, that it would be worse for me, if now I + receded, than if I had never advanced. + </p> + <p> + Advanced, Madam! How can you say advanced? Why, this is a trick upon me! A + poor low trick! Pardon me, Madam, I don't say you have a hand in it.—But, + my dearest Aunt, tell me, Will not my mother be present at this dreaded + interview? Will she not so far favour me? Were it but to qualify— + </p> + <p> + Qualify, my dear, interrupted she—your mother, and your uncle + Harlowe would not be present on this occasion for the world— + </p> + <p> + O then, Madam, how can they look upon my consent to this interview as an + advance? + </p> + <p> + My aunt was displeased at this home-push. Miss Clary, said she, there is + no dealing with you. It would be happy for you, and for every body else, + were your obedience as ready as your wit. I will leave you— + </p> + <p> + Not in anger, I hope, Madam, interrupted I—all I meant was, to + observe, that let the meeting issue as it may, and as it must issue, it + cannot be a disappointment to any body. + </p> + <p> + O Miss! you seem to be a very determined young creature. Mr. Solmes will + be here at your time: and remember once more, that upon the coming + afternoon depend upon the peace of your whole family, and your own + happiness. + </p> + <p> + And so saying, down she hurried. + </p> + <p> + Here I will stop. In what way I shall resume, or when, is not left to me + to conjecture; much less determine. I am excessively uneasy!—No good + news from your mother, I doubt!—I will deposit thus far, for fear of + the worst. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my best, rather, my only friend! CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY EVENING; AND CONTINUED THROUGH + THE NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + Well, my dear, I am alive, and here! but how long I shall be either here, + or alive, I cannot say. I have a vast deal to write; and perhaps shall + have little time for it. Nevertheless, I must tell you how the saucy Betty + again discomposed me, when she came up with this Solmes's message; + although, as you will remember from my last, I was in a way before that + wanted no additional surprises. + </p> + <p> + Miss! Miss! Miss! cried she, as fast as she could speak, with her arms + spread abroad, and all her fingers distended, and held up, will you be + pleased to walk down into your own parlour?—There is every body, I + will assure you in full congregation!—And there is Mr. Solmes, as + fine as a lord, with a charming white peruke, fine laced shirt and + ruffles, coat trimmed with silver, and a waistcoat standing on end with + lace!—Quite handsome, believe me!—You never saw such an + alteration!—Ah! Miss, shaking her head, 'tis pity you have said so + much against him! but you will know how to come off for all that!—I + hope it will not be too late! + </p> + <p> + Impertinence! said I—Wert thou bid to come up in this fluttering + way?—and I took up my fan, and fanned myself. + </p> + <p> + Bless me! said she, how soon these fine young ladies will be put into + flusterations!—I mean not either to offend or frighten you, I am + sure.— + </p> + <p> + Every body there, do you say?—Who do you call every body? + </p> + <p> + Why, Miss, holding out her left palm opened, and with a flourish, and a + saucy leer, patting it with the fore finger of the other, at every + mentioned person, there is your papa!—there is your mamma!—there + is your uncle Harlowe!—there is your uncle Antony!—your aunt + Hervey!—my young lady!—and my young master!—and Mr. + Solmes, with the air of a great courtier, standing up, because he named + you:—Mrs. Betty, said he, [then the ape of a wench bowed and + scraped, as awkwardly as I suppose the person did whom she endeavoured to + imitate,] pray give my humble service to Miss, and tell her, I wait her + commands. + </p> + <p> + Was not this a wicked wench?—I trembled so, I could hardly stand. I + was spiteful enough to say, that her young mistress, I supposed, bid her + put on these airs, to frighten me out of a capacity of behaving so calmly + as should procure me my uncles' compassion. + </p> + <p> + What a way do you put yourself in, Miss, said the insolent!—Come, + dear Madam, taking up my fan, which I had laid down, and approaching me + with it, fanning, shall I— + </p> + <p> + None of thy impertinence!—But say you, all my friends are below with + him? And am I to appear before them all? + </p> + <p> + I can't tell if they'll stay when you come. I think they seemed to be + moving when Mr. Solmes gave me his orders.—But what answer shall I + carry to the 'squire? + </p> + <p> + Say, I can't go!—but yet when 'tis over, 'tis over!—Say, I'll + wait upon—I'll attend—I'll come presently—say anything; + I care not what—but give me my fan, and fetch me a glass of water— + </p> + <p> + She went, and I fanned myself all the time; for I was in a flame; and + hemmed, and struggled with myself all I could; and, when she returned, + drank my water; and finding no hope presently of a quieter heart, I sent + her down, and followed her with precipitation; trembling so, that, had I + not hurried, I question if I could have got down at all.—Oh my dear, + what a poor, passive machine is the body when the mind is disordered! + </p> + <p> + There are two doors to my parlour, as I used to call it. As I entered one, + my friends hurried out the other. I just saw the gown of my sister, the + last who slid away. My uncle Antony went out with them: but he staid not + long, as you shall hear; and they all remained in the next parlour, a + wainscot partition only parting the two. I remember them both in one: but + they were separated in favour of us girls, for each to receive her + visitors in at her pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes approached me as soon as I entered, cringing to the ground, a + visible confusion in every feature of his face. After half a dozen + choaked-up Madams,—he was very sorry—he was very much + concerned—it was his misfortune—and there he stopped, being + unable presently to complete a sentence. + </p> + <p> + This gave me a little more presence of mind. Cowardice in a foe begets + courage in one's self—I see that plainly now—yet perhaps, at + bottom, the new-made bravo is a greater coward than the other. + </p> + <p> + I turned from him, and seated myself in one of the fireside chairs, + fanning myself. I have since recollected, that I must have looked very + saucily. Could I have had any thoughts of the man, I should have despised + myself for it. But what can be said in the case of an aversion so + perfectly sincere? + </p> + <p> + He hemmed five or six times, as I had done above; and these produced a + sentence—that I could not but see his confusion. This sentence + produced two or three more. I believe my aunt had been his tutoress; for + it was his awe, his reverence for so superlative a Lady [I assure you!] + And he hoped—he hoped—three times he hoped, before he told me + what—at last it came out, that I was too generous (generosity, he + said, was my character) to despise him for such—for such—for + such—true tokens of his love. + </p> + <p> + I do indeed see you under some confusion, Sir; and this gives me hope, + that although I have been compelled, as I may call it, to give way to this + interview, it may be attended with happier effects than I had apprehended + from it. + </p> + <p> + He had hemmed himself into more courage. + </p> + <p> + You could not, Madam, imagine any creature so blind to your merits, and so + little attracted by them, as easily to forego the interest and approbation + he was honoured with by your worthy family, while he had any hope given + him, that one day he might, by his perseverance and zeal, expect your + favour. + </p> + <p> + I am but too much aware, Sir, that it is upon the interest and approbation + you mention, that you build such hope. It is impossible otherwise, that a + man, who has any regard for his own happiness, would persevere against + such declarations as I have made, and think myself obliged to make, in + justice to you, as well as to myself. + </p> + <p> + He had seen many instances, he told me, and had heard of more, where + ladies had seemed as averse, and yet had been induced, some by motives of + compassion, others by persuasion of friends, to change their minds; and + had been very happy afterwards: and he hoped this might be the case here. + </p> + <p> + I have no notion, Sir, of compliment, in an article of such importance as + this: yet I am sorry to be obliged to speak my mind so plainly as I am + going to do.—Know then, that I have invincible objections, Sir, to + your address. I have avowed them with an earnestness that I believe is + without example: and why?—because I believe it is without example + that any young creature, circumstanced as I am, was ever treated as I have + been treated on your account. + </p> + <p> + It is hoped, Madam, that your consent may in time be obtained—that + is the hope; and I shall be a miserable man if it cannot. + </p> + <p> + Better, Sir, give me leave to say, you were miserable by yourself, than + that you should make two so. + </p> + <p> + You may have heard, Madam, things to my disadvantage. No man is without + enemies. Be pleased to let me know what you have heard, and I will either + own my faults, and amend; or I will convince you that I am basely + bespattered: and once I understand you overheard something that I should + say, that gave you offence: unguardedly, perhaps; but nothing but what + shewed my value, and that I would persist so long as I have hope. + </p> + <p> + I have indeed heard many things to your disadvantage:—and I was far + from being pleased with what I overheard fall from your lips: but as you + were not any thing to me, and never could be, it was not for me to be + concerned about the one or the other. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry, Madam, to hear this. I am sure you should not tell me of my + fault, that I would be unwilling to correct in myself. + </p> + <p> + Then, Sir, correct this fault—do not wish to have a young creature + compelled in the most material article of her life, for the sake of + motives she despises; and in behalf of a person she cannot value: one that + has, in her own right, sufficient to set her above all your offers, and a + spirit that craves no more than what it has, to make itself easy and + happy. + </p> + <p> + I don't see, Madam, how you would be happy, if I were to discontinue my + address: for— + </p> + <p> + That is nothing to you, Sir, interrupted I: do you but withdraw your + pretensions: and if it will be thought fit to start up another man for my + punishment, the blame will not lie at your door. You will be entitled to + my thanks, and most heartily will I thank you. + </p> + <p> + He paused, and seemed a little at a loss: and I was going to give him + still stronger and more personal instances of my plain-dealing; when in + came my uncle Antony. + </p> + <p> + So, Niece, so!—sitting in state like a queen, giving audience! + haughty audience!—Mr. Solmes, why stand you thus humbly?—Why + this distance, man? I hope to see you upon a more intimate footing before + we part. + </p> + <p> + I arose, as soon as he entered—and approached him with a bend knee: + Let me, Sir, reverence my uncle, whom I have not for so long time seen!—Let + me, Sir, bespeak your favour and compassion. + </p> + <p> + You will have the favour of every body, Niece, when you know how to + deserve it. + </p> + <p> + If ever I deserved it, I deserve it now.—I have been hardly used!—I + have made proposals that ought to be accepted, and such as would not have + been asked of me. What have I done, that I must be banished and confined + thus disgracefully? that I must not be allowed to have any free-will in an + article that concerns my present and future happiness?— + </p> + <p> + Miss Clary, replied my uncle, you have had your will in every thing till + now; and this makes your parents' will sit so heavy upon you. + </p> + <p> + My will, Sir! be pleased to allow me to ask, what was my will till now, + but my father's will, and yours and my uncle Harlowe's will?—Has it + not been my pride to obey and oblige?—I never asked a favour, that I + did not first sit down and consider, if it were fit to be granted. And + now, to shew my obedience, have I not offered to live single?—Have I + not offered to divest myself of my grandfather's bounty, and to cast + myself upon my father's! and that to be withdrawn, whenever I disoblige + him? Why, dear, good Sir, am I to be made unhappy in a point so concerning + my happiness? + </p> + <p> + Your grandfather's estate is not wished from you. You are not desired to + live a single life. You know our motives, and we guess at yours. And, let + me tell you, well as we love you, we should much sooner choose to follow + you to the grave, than that yours should take place. + </p> + <p> + I will engage never to marry any man, without my father's consent, and + yours, Sir, and every body's. Did I ever give you cause to doubt my word?—And + here I will take the solemnest oath that can be offered me— + </p> + <p> + That is the matrimonial one, interrupted he, with a big voice—and to + this gentleman.—It shall, it shall, cousin Clary!—And the more + you oppose it, the worse it shall be for you. + </p> + <p> + This, and before the man, who seemed to assume courage upon it, highly + provoked me. + </p> + <p> + Then, Sir, you shall sooner follow me to the grave indeed.—I will + undergo the cruelest death—I will even consent to enter into that + awful vault of my ancestors, and have that bricked up upon me, rather than + consent to be miserable for life. And, Mr. Solmes, turning to him, take + notice of what I say: This or any death, I will sooner undergo [that will + quickly be over] than be yours, and for ever unhappy! + </p> + <p> + My uncle was in a terrible rage upon this. He took Mr. Solmes by the hand, + shocked as the man seemed to be, and drew him to the window—Don't be + surprised, Mr. Solmes, don't be concerned at this. We know, and rapt out a + sad oath, what women will say in their wrath: the wind is not more + boisterous, nor more changeable; and again he swore to that.—If you + think it worthwhile to wait for such an ungrateful girl as this, I'll + engage she'll veer about; I'll engage she shall. And a third time + violently swore to it. + </p> + <p> + Then coming up to me (who had thrown myself, very much disordered by my + vehemence, into the most distant window) as if he would have beat me; his + face violently working, his hands clinched, and his teeth set—Yes, + yes, yes, you shall, Cousin Clary, be Mr. Solmes's wife; we will see that + you shall; and this in one week at farthest.—And then a fourth time + he confirmed it!—Poor gentleman! how he swore! + </p> + <p> + I am sorry, Sir, said I, to see you in such a passion. All this, I am but + too sensible, is owing to my brother's instigation; who would not himself + give the instance of duty that is sought to be exacted from me. It is best + for me to withdraw. I shall but provoke you farther, I fear: for although + I would gladly obey you if I could, yet this is a point determined with + me; and I cannot so much as wish to get over it. + </p> + <p> + How could I avoid making these strong declarations, the man in presence? + </p> + <p> + I was going out at the door I came in at; the gentlemen looking upon one + another, as if referring to each other what to do, or whether to engage my + stay, or suffer me to go; and whom should I meet at the door but my + brother, who had heard all that had passed! + </p> + <p> + He bolted upon me so unexpectedly, that I was surprised. He took my hand, + and grasped it with violence: Return, pretty Miss, said he; return, if you + please. You shall not yet be bricked up. Your instigating brother shall + save you from that!—O thou fallen angel, said he, peering up to my + downcast face—such a sweetness here!—and such an obstinacy + there! tapping my neck—O thou true woman—though so young!—But + you shall not have your rake: remember that; in a loud whisper, as if he + would be decently indecent before the man. You shall be redeemed, and this + worthy gentleman, raising his voice, will be so good as to redeem you from + ruin—and hereafter you will bless him, or have reason to bless him, + for his condescension; that was the brutal brother's word! + </p> + <p> + He had led me up to meet Mr. Solmes, whose hand he took, as he held mine. + Here, Sir, said he, take the rebel daughter's hand: I give it you now: she + shall confirm the gift in a week's time; or will have neither father, + mother, nor uncles, to boast of. + </p> + <p> + I snatched my hand away. + </p> + <p> + How now, Miss—! + </p> + <p> + And how now, Sir!—What right have you to dispose of my hand?—If + you govern every body else, you shall not govern me; especially in a point + so immediately relative to myself, and in which you neither have, nor ever + shall have, any thing to do. + </p> + <p> + I would have broken from him; but he held my hand too fast. + </p> + <p> + Let me go, Sir!—Why am I thus treated?—You design, I doubt + not, with your unmanly gripings, to hurt me, as you do: But again I ask, + wherefore is it that I am to be thus treated by you? + </p> + <p> + He tossed my hand from him with a whirl, that pained my very shoulder. I + wept, and held my other hand to the part. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes blamed him. So did my uncle. + </p> + <p> + He had no patience, he said, with such a perverse one; and to think of the + reflections upon himself, before he entered. He had only given me back the + hand I had not deserved he should touch. It was one of my arts to pretend + to be so pained. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes said, he would sooner give up all his hopes of me, than that I + should be used unkindly.—And he offered to plead in my behalf to + them both; and applied himself with a bow, as if for my approbation of his + interposition. + </p> + <p> + Interpose not, Mr. Solmes, said I, to save me from my brother's violence. + I cannot wish to owe an obligation to a man whose ungenerous perseverance + is the occasion of that violence, and of all my disgraceful sufferings. + </p> + <p> + How generous in you, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, to interpose so kindly + in behalf of such an immovable spirit! I beg of you to persist in your + address—the unnatural brother called it address!—For all our + family's sake, and for her sake too, if you love her, persist!—Let + us save her, if possible, from ruining herself. Look at her person! [and + he gazed at me, from head to foot, pointing at me, as he referred to Mr. + Solmes,] think of her fine qualities!—all the world confesses them, + and we all gloried in her till now. She is worth saving; and, after two or + three more struggles, she will be yours, and take my word for it, will + reward your patience. Talk not, therefore, of giving up your hopes, for a + little whining folly. She has entered upon a parade, which she knows not + how to quit with a female grace. You have only her pride and her obstinacy + to encounter: and depend upon it, you will be as happy a man in a + fortnight, as a married man can be. + </p> + <p> + You have heard me say, my dear, that my brother has always taken a liberty + to reflect upon our sex, and upon matrimony!—He would not, if he did + not think it wit to do so!—Just as poor Mr. Wyerley, and others, + whom we both know, profane and ridicule scripture; and all to evince their + pretensions to the same pernicious talent, and to have it thought they are + too wise to be religious. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes, with a self-satisfied air, presumptuously said, he would + suffer every thing, to oblige my family, and to save me: and doubted not + to be amply rewarded, could he be so happy as to succeed at last. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes, said I, if you have any regard for your own happiness, (mine + is out of the question with you, you have not generosity enough to make + that any part of your scheme,) prosecute no father your address, as my + brother calls it. It is but too just to tell you, that I could not bring + my heart so much as to think of you, without the utmost disapprobation, + before I was used as I have been:—And can you think I am such a + slave, such a poor slave, as to be brought to change my mind by the + violent usage I have met with? + </p> + <p> + And you, Sir, turning to my brother, if you think that meekness always + indicates tameness; and that there is no magnanimity without bluster; own + yourself mistaken for once: for you shall have reason to judge from + henceforth, that a generous mind is not to be forced; and that— + </p> + <p> + No more, said the imperious wretch, I charge you, lifting up his hands and + eyes. Then turning to my uncle, Do you hear, Sir? this is your once + faultless niece! This is your favourite! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes looked as if he know not what to think of the matter; and had I + been left alone with him, I saw plainly I could have got rid of him easily + enough. + </p> + <p> + My uncle came to me, looking up also to my face, and down to my feet: and + is it possible this can be you? All this violence from you, Miss Clary? + </p> + <p> + Yes, it is possible, Sir—and, I will presume to say, this vehemence + on my side is but the natural consequence of the usage I have met with, + and the rudeness I am treated with, even in your presence, by a brother, + who has no more right to controul me, than I have to controul him. + </p> + <p> + This usage, cousin Clary, was not till all other means were tried with + you. + </p> + <p> + Tried! to what end, Sir?—Do I contend for any thing more than a mere + negative? You may, Sir, [turning to Mr. Solmes,] possibly you may be + induced the rather to persevere thus ungenerously, as the usage I have met + with for your sake, and what you have now seen offered to me by my + brother, will shew you what I can bear, were my evil destiny ever to make + me yours. + </p> + <p> + Lord, Madam, cried Solmes, [all this time distorted into twenty different + attitudes, as my brother and my uncle were blessing themselves, and + speaking only to each other by their eyes, and by their working features; + Lord, Madam,] what a construction is this! + </p> + <p> + A fair construction, Sir, interrupted I: for he that can see a person, + whom he pretends to value, thus treated, and approve of it, must be + capable of treating her thus himself. And that you do approve of it, is + evident by your declared perseverance, when you know I am confined, + banished, and insulted, in order to make me consent to be what I never can + be: and this, let me tell you, as I have often told others, not from + motives of obstinacy, but aversion. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Sir, turning to my uncle—to you, as to my father's + brother, I owe duty. I beg your pardon, but my brother; he shall not + constrain me.—And [turning to the unnatural wretch—I will call + him wretch] knit your brows, Sir, and frown all you will, I will ask you, + would you, in my case, make the sacrifices I am willing to make, to obtain + every one's favour? If not, what right have you to treat me thus; and to + procure me to be treated as I have been for so long a time past? + </p> + <p> + I had put myself by this time into great disorder: they were silent, and + seemed by their looks to want to talk to one another (walking about in + violent disorders too) between whiles. I sat down fanning myself, (as it + happened, against the glass,) and I could perceive my colour go and come; + and being sick to the very heart, and apprehensive of fainting, I rung. + </p> + <p> + Betty came in. I called for a glass of water, and drank it: but nobody + minded me. I heard my brother pronounce the words, Art! Female Art! to + Solmes; which, together with the apprehension that he would not be + welcome, I suppose kept him back. Else I could see the man was affected. + And (still fearing I should faint) I arose, and taking hold of Betty's + arm, let me hold by you, Betty, said I: let me withdraw. And moved with + trembling feet towards the door, and then turned about, and made a + courtesy to my uncle—Permit me, Sir, said I, to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + Whither go you, Niece? said my uncle: we have not done with you yet. I + charge you depart not. Mr. Solmes has something to open to you, that will + astonish you—and you shall hear it. + </p> + <p> + Only, Sir, by your leave, for a few minutes into the air. I will return, + if you command it. I will hear all that I am to hear; that it may be over + now and for ever.—You will go with me, Betty? + </p> + <p> + And so, without any farther prohibition, I retired into the garden; and + there casting myself upon the first seat, and throwing Betty's apron over + my face, leaning against her side, my hands between hers, I gave way to a + violent burst of grief, or passion, or both; which, as it seemed, saved my + heart from breaking, for I was sensible of an immediate relief. + </p> + <p> + I have already given you specimens of Mrs. Betty's impertinence. I shall + not, therefore, trouble you with more: for the wench, notwithstanding this + my distress, took great liberties with me, after she saw me a little + recovered, and as I walked farther into the garden; insomuch that I was + obliged to silence her by an absolute prohibition of saying another word + to me; and then she dropped behind me sullen and gloomy. + </p> + <p> + It was near an hour before I was sent for in again. The messenger was my + cousin Dolly Hervey, who, with an eye of compassion and respect, (for Miss + Hervey always loved me, and calls herself my scholar, as you know,) told + my company was desired. + </p> + <p> + Betty left us. + </p> + <p> + Who commands my attendance, Miss? said I—Have you not been in tears, + my dear? + </p> + <p> + Who can forbid tears? said she. + </p> + <p> + Why, what is the matter, cousin Dolly?—Sure, nobody is entitled to + weep in this family, but me! + </p> + <p> + Yes, I am, Madam, said she, because I love you. + </p> + <p> + I kissed her: And is it for me, my sweet Cousin, that you shed tears?—There + never was love lost between us: but tell me, what is designed to be done + with me, that I have this kind instance of your compassion for me? + </p> + <p> + You must take no notice of what I tell you, said the dear girl: but my + mamma has been weeping for you, too, with me; but durst not let any body + see it: O my Dolly, said my mamma, there never was so set a malice in man + as in your cousin James Harlowe. They will ruin the flower and ornament of + their family. + </p> + <p> + As how, Miss Dolly?—Did she not explain herself?—As how, my + dear? + </p> + <p> + Yes; she said, Mr. Solmes would have given up his claim to you; for he + said, you hated him, and there were no hopes; and your mamma was willing + he should; and to have you taken at your word, to renounce Mr. Lovelace + and to live single. My mamma was for it too; for they heard all that + passed between you and uncle Antony, and cousin James; saying, it was + impossible to think of prevailing upon you to have Mr. Solmes. Uncle + Harlowe seemed in the same way of thinking; at least, my mamma says he did + not say any thing to the contrary. But your papa was immovable, and was + angry at your mamma and mine upon it.—And hereupon your brother, + your sister, and my uncle Antony, joined in, and changed the scene + entirely. In short, she says, that Mr. Solmes had great matters engaged to + him. He owned, that you were the finest young lady in England, and he + would be content to be but little beloved, if he could not, after + marriage, engage your heart, for the sake of having the honour to call you + his but for one twelvemonth—I suppose he would break your heart the + next—for he is a cruel-hearted man, I am sure. + </p> + <p> + My friends may break my heart, cousin Dolly; but Mr. Solmes will never + have it in his power to break it. + </p> + <p> + I do not know that, Miss: you will have good luck to avoid having him, by + what I can find; for my mamma says, they are all now of one mind, herself + excepted; and she is forced to be silent, your papa and brother are both + so outrageous. + </p> + <p> + I am got above minding my brother, cousin Dolly:—he is but my + brother. But to my father I owe duty and obedience, if I could comply. + </p> + <p> + We are apt to be fond of any body that will side with us, when oppressed + or provoked. I always loved my cousin Dolly; but now she endeared herself + to me ten times more, by her soothing concern for me. I asked what she + would do, were she in my case? + </p> + <p> + Without hesitation, she replied, have Mr. Lovelace out of hand, and take + up her own estate, if she were me; and there would be an end to it.—And + Mr. Lovelace, she said, was a fine gentleman:—Mr. Solmes was not + worthy to buckle his shoes. + </p> + <p> + Miss Hervey told me further, that her mother was desired to come to me, to + fetch me in; but she excused herself. I should have all my friends, she + said, she believed, sit in judgment upon me. + </p> + <p> + I wish it had been so. But, as I have been told since, neither my father + for my mother would trust themselves with seeing me: the one it seems for + passion sake; my mother for tender considerations. + </p> + <p> + By this time we entered the house. Miss accompanied me into the parlour, + and left me, as a person devoted, I then thought. + </p> + <p> + Nobody was there. I sat down, and had leisure to weep; reflecting upon + what my cousin Dolly had told me. + </p> + <p> + They were all in my sister's parlour adjoining: for I heard a confused + mixture of voices, some louder than others, which drowned the more + compassionating accents. + </p> + <p> + Female accents I could distinguish the drowned ones to be. O my dear! what + a hard-hearted sex is the other! Children of the same parents, how came + they by their cruelty?—Do they get it by travel?—Do they get + it by conversation with one another?—Or how do they get it?—Yet + my sister, too, is as hard-hearted as any of them. But this may be no + exception neither: for she has been thought to be masculine in her air and + her spirit. She has then, perhaps, a soul of the other sex in a body of + ours. And so, for the honour of our own, will I judge of every woman for + the future, who imitating the rougher manners of men, acts unbeseeming the + gentleness of her own sex. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, my dear friend, for breaking into my story by these + reflections. Were I rapidly to pursue my narration, without thinking, + without reflecting, I believe I should hardly be able to keep in my right + mind: since vehemence and passion would then be always uppermost; but + while I think as I write, I cool, and my hurry of spirits is allayed. + </p> + <p> + I believe I was about a quarter of an hour enjoying my own comfortless + contemplations, before any body came in to me; for they seemed to be in + full debate. My aunt looked in first; O my dear, said she, are you there? + and withdrew hastily to apprize them of it. + </p> + <p> + And then (as agreed upon I suppose) in came my uncle Antony, crediting Mr. + Solmes with the words, Let me lead you in, my dear friend, having hold of + his hand; while the new-made beau awkwardly followed, but more edgingly, + as I may say, setting his feet mincingly, to avoid treading upon his + leader's heels. Excuse me, my dear, this seeming levity; but those we do + not love, appear in every thing ungraceful to us. + </p> + <p> + I stood up. My uncle looked very surly.—Sit down!—Sit down, + Girl, said he.—And drawing a chair near me, he placed his dear + friend in it, whether he would or not, I having taken my seat. And my + uncle sat on the other side of me. + </p> + <p> + Well, Niece, taking my hand, we shall have very little more to say to you + than we have already said, as to the subject that is so distasteful to you—unless, + indeed, you have better considered of the matter—And first let me + know if you have? + </p> + <p> + The matter wants no consideration, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Very well, very well, Madam! said my uncle, withdrawing his hands from + mine: Could I ever have thought of this from you? + </p> + <p> + For God's sake, dearest Madam, said Mr. Solmes, folding his hands—And + there he stopped. + </p> + <p> + For God's sake, what, Sir?—How came God's sake, and your sake, I + pray you, to be the same? + </p> + <p> + This silenced him. My uncle could only be angry; and that he was before. + </p> + <p> + Well, well, well, Mr. Solmes, said my uncle, no more of supplication. You + have not confidence enough to expect a woman's favour. + </p> + <p> + He then was pleased to hint what great things he had designed to do for + me; and that it was more for my sake, after he returned from the Indies, + than for the sake of any other of the family, that he had resolved to live + a single life.—But now, concluded he, that the perverse girl + despises all the great things it was once as much in my will, as it is in + my power, to do for her, I will change my measures. + </p> + <p> + I told him, that I most sincerely thanked him for all his kind intentions + to me: but that I was willing to resign all claim to any other of his + favours than kind looks and kind words. + </p> + <p> + He looked about him this way and that. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes looked pitifully down. + </p> + <p> + But both being silent, I was sorry, I added, that I had too much reason to + say a very harsh thing, as I might be thought; which was, That if he would + but be pleased to convince my brother and sister, that he was absolutely + determined to alter his generous purposes towards me, it might possibly + procure me better treatment from both, than I was otherwise likely to + have. + </p> + <p> + My uncle was very much displeased. But he had not the opportunity to + express his displeasure, as he seemed preparing to do; for in came my + brother in exceeding great wrath; and called me several vile names. His + success hitherto, in his device against me, had set him above keeping even + decent measures. + </p> + <p> + Was this my spiteful construction? he asked—Was this the + interpretation I put upon his brotherly care of me, and concern for me, in + order to prevent my ruining myself? + </p> + <p> + It is, indeed it is, said I: I know no other way to account for your late + behaviour to me: and before your face, I repeat my request to my uncle, + and I will make it to my other uncle whenever I am permitted to see him, + that they will confer all their favours upon you, and upon my sister; and + only make me happy (it is all I wish for!) in their kind looks, and kind + words. + </p> + <p> + How they all gazed upon one another!—But could I be less peremptory + before the man? + </p> + <p> + And, as to your care and concern for me, Sir, turning to my brother; once + more I desire it not. You are but my brother. My father and mother, I + bless God, are both living; and were they not, you have given me abundant + reason to say, that you are the very last person I would wish to have any + concern for me. + </p> + <p> + How, Niece! And is a brother, an only brother, of so little consideration + with you, as this comes to? And ought he to have no concern for his + sister's honour, and the family's honour. + </p> + <p> + My honour, Sir!—I desire none of his concern for that! It never was + endangered till it had his undesired concern!—Forgive me, Sir—but + when my brother knows how to act like a brother, or behave like a + gentleman, he may deserve more consideration from me than it is possible + for me now to think he does. + </p> + <p> + I thought my brother would have beat me upon this: but my uncle stood + between us. + </p> + <p> + Violent girl, however, he called me—Who, said he, who would have + thought it of her? + </p> + <p> + Then was Mr. Solmes told, that I was unworthy of his pursuit. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Solmes warmly took my part: he could not bear, he said, that I + should be treated so roughly. + </p> + <p> + And so very much did he exert himself on this occasion, and so patiently + was his warmth received by my brother, that I began to suspect, that it + was a contrivance to make me think myself obliged to him; and that this + might perhaps be one end of the pressed-for interview. + </p> + <p> + The very suspicion of this low artifice, violent as I was thought to be + before, put me still more out of patience; and my uncle and my brother + again praising his wonderful generosity, and his noble return of good for + evil, You are a happy man, Mr. Solmes, said I, that you can so easily + confer obligations upon a whole family, except upon one ungrateful person + of it, whom you seem to intend most to oblige; but who being made unhappy + by your favour, desires not to owe to you any protection from the violence + of a brother. + </p> + <p> + Then was I a rude, an ungrateful, and unworthy creature. + </p> + <p> + I own it all—all, all you can call me, or think me, Brother, do I + own. I own my unworthiness with regard to this gentleman. I take your word + for his abundant merit, which I have neither leisure nor inclination to + examine into—it may perhaps be as great as your own—but yet I + cannot thank him for his great mediation: For who sees not, looking at my + uncle, that this is giving himself a merit with every body at my expense? + </p> + <p> + Then turning to my brother, who seemed surprised into silence by my + warmth, I must also acknowledge, Sir, the favour of your superabundant + care for me. But I discharge you of it; at least, while I have the + happiness of nearer and dearer relations. You have given me no reason to + think better of your prudence, than of my own. I am independent of you, + Sir, though I never desire to be so of my father: and although I wish for + the good opinion of my uncles, it is all I wish for from them: and this, + Sir, I repeat, to make you and my sister easy. + </p> + <p> + Instantly almost came in Betty, in a great hurry, looking at me as + spitefully as if she were my sister: Sir, said she to my brother, my + master desires to speak with you this moment at the door. + </p> + <p> + He went to that which led into my sister's parlour; and this sentence I + heard thundered from the mouth of one who had a right to all my reverence: + Son James, let the rebel be this moment carried away to my brother's—this + very moment—she shall not stay one hour more under my roof! + </p> + <p> + I trembled; I was ready to sink. Yet, not knowing what I did, or said, I + flew to the door, and would have opened it: but my brother pulled it to, + and held it close by the key—O my Papa!—my dear Papa! said I, + falling upon my knees, at the door—admit your child to your + presence!—Let me but plead my cause at your feet!—Oh! + reprobate not thus your distressed daughter! + </p> + <p> + My uncle put his handkerchief to his eyes. Mr. Solmes made a still more + grievous face than he had before. But my brother's marble heart was + untouched. + </p> + <p> + I will not stir from my knees, continued I, without admission; at this + door I beg it!—Oh! let it be the door of mercy! and open it to me, + honoured Sir, I beseech you!—But this once, this once! although you + were afterwards to shut it against me for ever! + </p> + <p> + The door was endeavoured to be opened on the inside, which made my brother + let go the key on a sudden; and I pressing against it, (all the time + remaining on my knees,) fell flat on my face into the other parlour; + however without hurting myself. But every body was gone, except Betty, who + I suppose was the person that endeavoured to open the door. She helped to + raise me up; and when I was on my feet, I looked round that apartment, and + seeing nobody there, re-entered the other, leaning upon her; and then + threw myself into the chair which I had sat in before; and my eyes + overflowed, to my great relief: while my uncle Antony, my brother, and Mr. + Solmes, left me, and went to my other relations. + </p> + <p> + What passed among them, I know not: but my brother came in by the time I + had tolerably recovered myself, with a settled and haughty gloom upon his + brow—Your father and mother command you instantly to prepare for + your uncle Antony's. You need not be solicitous about what you shall take + with you: you may give Betty your keys—Take them, Betty, if the + perverse one has them about her, and carry them to her mother. She will + take care to send every thing after you that you shall want—but + another night you will not be permitted to stay in this house. + </p> + <p> + I don't choose to give my keys to any body, except to my mother, and into + her own hands.—You see how much I am disordered. It may cost me my + life, to be hurried away so suddenly. I beg to be indulged till next + Monday at least. + </p> + <p> + That will not be granted you. So prepare for this very very night. And + give up your keys. Give them to me, Miss. I'll carry them to your mother. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Brother. Indeed I won't. + </p> + <p> + Indeed you must. Have you any thing you are afraid should be seen by your + mother? + </p> + <p> + Not if I be permitted to attend her. + </p> + <p> + I'll make a report accordingly. + </p> + <p> + He went out. + </p> + <p> + In came Miss Dolly Hervey: I am sorry, Madam, to be the messenger—but + your mamma insists upon your sending up all the keys of your cabinet, + library, and drawers. + </p> + <p> + Tell my mother, that I yield them up to her commands: tell her, I make no + conditions with my mother: but if she finds nothing she shall disapprove + of, I beg that she will permit me to tarry here a few days longer.—Try, + my Dolly, [the dear girl sobbing with grief;] try if your gentleness + cannot prevail for me. + </p> + <p> + She wept still more, and said, It is sad, very sad, to see matters thus + carried! + </p> + <p> + She took the keys, and wrapped her arms about me; and begged me to excuse + her for her message; and would have said more; but Betty's presence awed + her, as I saw. + </p> + <p> + Don't pity me, my dear, said I. It will be imputed to you as a fault. You + see who is by. + </p> + <p> + The insolent wench scornfully smiled: One young lady pitying another in + things of this nature, looks promising in the youngest, I must needs say. + </p> + <p> + I bid her begone from my presence. + </p> + <p> + She would most gladly go, she said, were she not to stay about me by my + mother's order. + </p> + <p> + It soon appeared for what she staid; for I offering to go up stairs to my + apartment when my cousin went from me with the keys, she told me she was + commanded (to her very great regret, she must own) to desire me not to go + up at present. + </p> + <p> + Such a bold face, as she, I told her, should not hinder me. + </p> + <p> + She instantly rang the bell, and in came my brother, meeting me at the + door. + </p> + <p> + Return, return, Miss—no going up yet. + </p> + <p> + I went in again, and throwing myself upon the window-seat, wept bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Shall I give you the particulars of a ridiculously-spiteful conversation + that passed between my brother and me, in the time that he (with Betty) + was in office to keep me in the parlour while my closet was searching!—But + I think I will not. It can answer no good end. + </p> + <p> + I desired several times, while he staid, to have leave to retire to my + apartment; but was denied. The search, I suppose, was not over. + </p> + <p> + Bella was one of those employed in it. They could not have a more diligent + searcher. How happy it was they were disappointed! + </p> + <p> + But when my sister could not find the cunning creature's papers, I was to + stand another visit from Mr. Solmes—preceded now by my aunt Hervey, + solely against her will, I could see that; accompanied by my uncle Antony, + in order to keep her steady, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + But being a little heavy (for it is now past two in the morning) I will + lie down in my clothes, to indulge the kind summons, if it will be + indulged. + </p> + <p> + THREE O'CLOCK, WEDNESDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + I could not sleep—Only dozed away one half-hour. + </p> + <p> + My aunt Hervey accosted me thus:—O my dear child, what troubles do + you give to your parents, and to every body!—I wonder at you! + </p> + <p> + I am sorry for it, Madam. + </p> + <p> + Sorry for it, child!—Why then so very obstinate?—Come, sit + down, my dear. I will sit next to you; taking my hand. + </p> + <p> + My uncle placed Mr. Solmes on the other side of me: himself over-against + me, almost close to me. Was I not finely beset, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Your brother, child, said my aunt, is too passionate—his zeal for + your welfare pushes him on a little too vehemently. + </p> + <p> + Very true, said my uncle: but no more of this. We would now be glad to see + if milder means will do with you—though, indeed, they were tried + before. + </p> + <p> + I asked my aunt, If it were necessary, that the gentleman should be + present? + </p> + <p> + There is a reason that he should, said my aunt, as you will hear by-and + by.—But I must tell you, first, that, thinking you was a little too + angrily treated by your brother, your mother desired me to try what + gentler means would do upon a spirit so generous as we used to think + yours. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be done, Madam, I must presume to say, if this gentleman's + address be the end. + </p> + <p> + She looked upon my uncle, who bit his lip; and looked upon Mr. Solmes, who + rubbed his cheek; and shaking her head, Good, dear creature, said she, be + calm. Let me ask you, If something would have been done, had you been more + gently used, than you seem to think you have been? + </p> + <p> + No, Madam, I cannot say it would, in this gentleman's favour. You know, + Madam, you know, Sir, to my uncle, I ever valued myself upon my sincerity: + and once indeed had the happiness to be valued for it. + </p> + <p> + My uncle took Mr. Solmes aside. I heard him say, whispering, She must, she + shall, still be yours.—We'll see, who'll conquer, parents or child, + uncles or niece. I doubt not to be witness to all this being got over, and + many a good-humoured jest made of this high phrensy! + </p> + <p> + I was heartily vexed. + </p> + <p> + Though we cannot find out, continued he, yet we guess, who puts her upon + this obstinate behaviour. It is not natural to her, man. Nor would I + concern myself so much about her, but that I know what I say to be true, + and intend to do great things for her. + </p> + <p> + I will hourly pray for that happy time, whispered as audibly Mr. Solmes. I + never will revive the remembrance of what is now so painful to me. + </p> + <p> + Well, but, Niece, I am to tell you, said my aunt, that the sending up of + the keys, without making any conditions, has wrought for you what nothing + else could have done. That, and the not finding any thing that could give + them umbrage, together with Mr. Solmes's interposition— + </p> + <p> + O Madam, let me not owe an obligation to Mr. Solmes. I cannot repay it, + except by my thanks; and those only on condition that he will decline his + suit. To my thanks, Sir, [turning to him,] if you have a heart capable of + humanity, if you have any esteem for me for my own sake, I beseech you to + entitle yourself!—I beseech you, do—! + </p> + <p> + O Madam, cried he, believe, believe, believe me, it is impossible. While + you are single, I will hope. While that hope is encouraged by so many + worthy friends, I must persevere. I must not slight them, Madam, because + you slight me. + </p> + <p> + I answered him only with a look; but it was of high disdain; and turning + from him,—But what favour, dear Madam, [to my aunt,] has the + instance of duty you mention procured me? + </p> + <p> + Your mother and Mr. Solmes, replied my aunt, have prevailed, that your + request to stay here till Monday next shall be granted, if you will + promise to go cheerfully then. + </p> + <p> + Let me but choose my own visiters, and I will go to my uncle's house with + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Well, Niece, said my aunt, we must wave this subject, I find. We will now + proceed to another, which will require your utmost attention. It will give + you the reason why Mr. Solmes's presence is requisite— + </p> + <p> + Ay, said my uncle, and shew you what sort of a man somebody is. Mr. + Solmes, pray favour us, in the first place, with the letter you received + from your anonymous friend. + </p> + <p> + I will, Sir. And out he pulled a letter-case, and taking out a letter, it + is written in answer to one, sent to the person. It is superscribed, To + Roger Solmes, Esq. It begins thus: Honoured Sir— + </p> + <p> + I beg your pardon, Sir, said I: but what, pray, is the intent of reading + this letter to me? + </p> + <p> + To let you know what a vile man you are thought to have set your heart + upon, said my uncle, in an audible whisper. + </p> + <p> + If, Sir, it be suspected, that I have set my heart upon any other, why is + Mr. Solmes to give himself any further trouble about me? + </p> + <p> + Only hear, Niece, said my aunt; only hear what Mr. Solmes has to read and + to say to you on this head. + </p> + <p> + If, Madam, Mr. Solmes will be pleased to declare, that he has no view to + serve, no end to promote, for himself, I will hear any thing he shall + read. But if the contrary, you must allow me to say, that it will abate + with me a great deal of the weight of whatever he shall produce. + </p> + <p> + Hear it but read, Niece, said my aunt— + </p> + <p> + Hear it read, said my uncle. You are so ready to take part with— + </p> + <p> + With any body, Sir, that is accused anonymously, and from interested + motives. + </p> + <p> + He began to read; and there seemed to be a heavy load of charges in this + letter against the poor criminal: but I stopped the reading of it, and + said, It will not be my fault, if this vilified man be not as indifferent + to me, as one whom I never saw. If he be otherwise at present, which I + neither own, nor deny, it proceed from the strange methods taken to + prevent it. Do not let one cause unite him and me, and we shall not be + united. If my offer to live single be accepted, he shall be no more to me + than this gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Still—Proceed, Mr. Solmes—Hear it out, Niece, was my uncle's + cry. + </p> + <p> + But to what purpose, Sir! said I—Had not Mr. Solmes a view in this? + And, besides, can any thing worse be said of Mr. Lovelace, than I have + heard said for several months past? + </p> + <p> + But this, said my uncle, and what Mr. Solmes can tell you besides, amounts + to the fullest proof— + </p> + <p> + Was the unhappy man, then, so freely treated in his character before, + without full proof? I beseech you, Sir, give me not too good an opinion of + Mr. Lovelace; as I may have, if such pains be taken to make him guilty, by + one who means not his reformation by it; nor to do good, if I may presume + to say so in this case, to any body but himself. + </p> + <p> + I see very plainly, girl, said my uncle, your prepossession, your fond + prepossession, for the person of a man without morals. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear, said my aunt, you too much justify all your apprehension. + Surprising! that a young creature of virtue and honour should thus esteem + a man of a quite opposite character! + </p> + <p> + Dear Madam, do not conclude against me too hastily. I believe Mr. Lovelace + is far from being so good as he ought to be: but if every man's private + life was searched into by prejudiced people, set on for that purpose, I + know not whose reputation would be safe. I love a virtuous character, as + much in man as in woman. I think it is requisite, and as meritorious, in + the one as in the other. And, if left to myself, I would prefer a person + of such a character to royalty without it. + </p> + <p> + Why then, said my uncle— + </p> + <p> + Give me leave, Sir—but I may venture to say, that many of those who + have escaped censure, have not merited applause. + </p> + <p> + Permit me to observe further, That Mr. Solmes himself may not be + absolutely faultless. I never head of his virtues. Some vices I have heard + of—Excuse me, Mr. Solmes, I speak to your face—The text about + casting the first stone affords an excellent lesson. + </p> + <p> + He looked down; but was silent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace may have vices you have not. You may have others, which he + has not. I speak not this to defend him, or to accuse you. No man is bad, + no one is good, in every thing. Mr. Lovelace, for example, is said to be + implacable, and to hate my friends: that does not make me value him the + more: but give me leave to say, that they hate him as much. Mr. Solmes has + his antipathies, likewise; very strong ones, and those to his own + relations; which I don't find to be the other's fault; for he lives well + with his—yet he may have as bad:—worse, pardon me, he cannot + have, in my poor opinion: for what must be the man, who hates his own + flesh? + </p> + <p> + You know not, Madam; You know not, Niece; all in one breath. You know not, + Clary; + </p> + <p> + I may not, nor do I desire to know Mr. Solmes's reasons. It concerns not + me to know them: but the world, even the impartial part of it, accuses + him. If the world is unjust or rash, in one man's case, why may it not be + so in another's? That's all I mean by it. Nor can there by a greater sign + of want of merit, than where a man seeks to pull down another's character, + in order to build up his own. + </p> + <p> + The poor man's face was all this time overspread with confusion, twisted, + as it were, and all awry, neither mouth nor nose standing in the middle of + it. He looked as if he were ready to cry: and had he been capable of + pitying me, I had certainly tried to pity him. + </p> + <p> + They all three gazed upon one another in silence. + </p> + <p> + My aunt, I saw (at least I thought so) looked as if she would have been + glad she might have appeared to approve of what I said. She but feebly + blamed me, when she spoke, for not hearing what Mr. Solmes had to say. He + himself seemed not now very earnest to be heard. My uncle said, There was + no talking to me. And I should have absolutely silenced both gentlemen, + had not my brother come in again to their assistance. + </p> + <p> + This was the strange speech he made at his entrance, his eyes flaming with + anger; This prating girl, has struck you all dumb, I perceive. Persevere, + however, Mr. Solmes. I have heard every word she has said: and I know of + no other method of being even with her, than after she is yours, to make + her as sensible of your power, as she now makes you of her insolence. + </p> + <p> + Fie, cousin Harlowe! said my aunt—Could I have thought a brother + would have said this, to a gentleman, of a sister? + </p> + <p> + I must tell you, Madam, said he, that you give the rebel courage. You + yourself seem to favour too much the arrogance of her sex in her; + otherwise she durst not have thus stopped her uncle's mouth by reflections + upon him; as well as denied to hear a gentleman tell her the danger she is + in from a libertine, whose protection, as she plainly hinted, she intends + to claim against her family. + </p> + <p> + Stopped my uncle's mouth, by reflections upon him, Sir! said I, how can + that be! how dare you to make such an application as this! + </p> + <p> + My aunt wept at his reflection upon her.—Cousin, said she to him, if + this be the thanks I have for my trouble, I have done: your father would + not treat me thus—and I will say, that the hint you gave was an + unbrotherly one. + </p> + <p> + Not more unbrotherly than all the rest of his conduct to me, of late, + Madam, said I. I see by this specimen of his violence, how every body has + been brought into his measures. Had I any the least apprehension of ever + being in Mr. Solmes's power, this might have affected me. But you see, + Sir, to Mr. Solmes, what a conduct is thought necessary to enable you to + arrive at your ungenerous end. You see how my brother courts for you. + </p> + <p> + I disclaim Mr. Harlowe's violence, Madam, with all my soul. I will never + remind you— + </p> + <p> + Silence, worthy Sir, said I; I will take care you never shall have the + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Less violence, Clary, said my uncle. Cousin James, you are as much to + blame as your sister. + </p> + <p> + In then came my sister. Brother, said she, you kept not your promise. You + are thought to be to blame within, as well as here. Were not Mr. Solmes's + generosity and affection to the girl well known, what you said would have + been inexcusable. My father desires to speak with you; and with you, Mr. + Solmes, if you please. + </p> + <p> + They all four withdrew into the next apartment. + </p> + <p> + I stood silent, as not knowing presently how to take this intervention of + my sister's. But she left me not long at a loss—O thou perverse + thing, said she [poking out her angry face at me, when they were all gone, + but speaking spitefully low]—what trouble do you give to us all! + </p> + <p> + You and my brother, Bella, said I, give trouble to yourselves; yet neither + you nor he have any business to concern yourselves about me. + </p> + <p> + She threw out some spiteful expressions, still in a low voice, as if she + chose not to be heard without; and I thought it best to oblige her to + raise her tone a little, if I could. If I could, did I say? It is easy to + make a passionate spirit answer all one's views upon it. + </p> + <p> + She accordingly flamed out in a raised tone: and this brought my cousin + Dolly in to us. Miss Harlowe, your company is desired. + </p> + <p> + I will come presently, cousin Dolly. + </p> + <p> + But again provoking a severity from me which she could not bear, and + calling me names! in once more come Dolly, with another message, that her + company was desired. + </p> + <p> + Not mine, I doubt, Miss Dolly, said I. + </p> + <p> + The sweet-tempered girl burst out into tears, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + Go in before me, child, said Bella, [vexed to see her concern for me,] + with thy sharp face like a new moon: What dost thou cry for? is it to make + thy keen face look still keener? + </p> + <p> + I believe Bella was blamed, too, when she went in; for I heard her say, + the creature was so provoking, there was no keeping a resolution. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes, after a little while, came in again by himself, to take leave + of me: full of scrapes and compliments; but too well tutored and + encouraged, to give me hope of his declining his suit. He begged me not to + impute to him any of the severe things to which he had been a sorrowful + witness. He besought my compassion, as he called it. + </p> + <p> + He said, the result was, that he still had hopes given him; and, although + discouraged by me, he was resolved to persevere, while I remained single.—And + such long and such painful services he talked of, as never before were + heard of. + </p> + <p> + I told him in the strongest manner, what he had to trust to. + </p> + <p> + Yet still he determined to persist.—While I was no man's else, he + must hope. + </p> + <p> + What! said I, will you still persist, when I declare, as I do now, that my + affections are engaged?—And let my brother make the most of it. + </p> + <p> + He knew my principles, and adored me for them. He doubted not, that it was + in his power to make me happy: and he was sure I would not want the will + to be so. + </p> + <p> + I assured him, that were I to be carried to my uncle's, it should answer + no end; for I would never see him; nor receive a line from him; nor hear a + word in his favour, whoever were the person who should mention him to me. + </p> + <p> + He was sorry for it. He must be miserable, were I to hold in that mind. + But he doubted not, that I might be induced by my father and uncles to + change it— + </p> + <p> + Never, never, he might depend upon it. + </p> + <p> + It was richly worth his patience, and the trial. + </p> + <p> + At my expense?—At the price of all my happiness, Sir? + </p> + <p> + He hoped I should be induced to think otherwise. + </p> + <p> + And then would he have run into his fortune, his settlements, his + affection—vowing, that never man loved a woman with so sincere a + passion as he loved me. + </p> + <p> + I stopped him, as to the first part of his speech: and to the second, of + the sincerity of his passion, What then, Sir, said I, is your love to one, + who must assure you, that never young creature looked upon man with a more + sincere disapprobation, than I look upon you? And tell me, what argument + can you urge, that this true declaration answers not before-hand? + </p> + <p> + Dearest Madam, what can I say?—On my knees I beg— + </p> + <p> + And down the ungraceful wretch dropped on his knees. + </p> + <p> + Let me not kneel in vain, Madam: let me not be thus despised.—And he + looked most odiously sorrowful. + </p> + <p> + I have kneeled too, Mr. Solmes: often have I kneeled: and I will kneel + again—even to you, Sir, will I kneel, if there be so much merit in + kneeling; provided you will not be the implement of my cruel brother's + undeserved persecution. + </p> + <p> + If all the services, even to worship you, during my whole life—You, + Madam, invoke and expect mercy; yet shew none— + </p> + <p> + Am I to be cruel to myself, to shew mercy to you; take my estate, Sir, + with all my heart, since you are such a favourite in this house!—only + leave me myself—the mercy you ask for, do you shew to others. + </p> + <p> + If you mean to my relations, Madam—unworthy as they are, all shall + be done that you shall prescribe. + </p> + <p> + Who, I, Sir, to find you bowels you naturally have not? I to purchase + their happiness by the forfeiture of my own? What I ask you for, is mercy + to myself: that, since you seem to have some power over my relations, you + will use it in my behalf. Tell them, that you see I cannot conquer my + aversion to you: tell them, if you are a wise man, that you too much value + your own happiness, to risk it against such a determined antipathy: tell + them that I am unworthy of your offers: and that in mercy to yourself, as + well as to me, you will not prosecute a suit so impossible to be granted. + </p> + <p> + I will risque all consequences, said the fell wretch, rising, with a + countenance whitened over, as if with malice, his hollow eyes flashing + fire, and biting his under lip, to shew he could be manly. Your hatred, + Madam, shall be no objection with me: and I doubt not in a few days to + have it in my power to shew you— + </p> + <p> + You have it in your power, Sir— + </p> + <p> + He came well off—To shew you more generosity than, noble as you are + said to be to others, you shew to me. + </p> + <p> + The man's face became his anger: it seems formed to express the passion. + </p> + <p> + At that instant, again in came my brother—Sister, Sister, Sister, + said he, with his teeth set, act on the termagant part you have so newly + assumed—most wonderfully well does it become you. It is but a short + one, however. Tyraness in your turn, accuse others of your own guilt—But + leave her, leaver her, Mr. Solmes: her time is short. You'll find her + humble and mortified enough very quickly. Then, how like a little tame + fool will she look, with her conscience upbraiding her, and begging of you + [with a whining voice, the barbarous brother spoke] to forgive and forget! + </p> + <p> + More he said, as he flew out, with a glowing face, upon Shorey's coming in + to recall him on his violence. + </p> + <p> + I removed from chair to chair, excessively frighted and disturbed at this + brutal treatment. + </p> + <p> + The man attempted to excuse himself, as being sorry for my brother's + passion. + </p> + <p> + Leave me, leave me, Sir, fanning—or I shall faint. And indeed I + thought I should. + </p> + <p> + He recommended himself to my favour with an air of assurance; augmented, + as I thought, by a distress so visible in me; for he even snatched my + trembling, my struggling hand; and ravished it to his odious mouth. + </p> + <p> + I flung from him with high disdain: and he withdrew, bowing and cringing; + self-gratified, and enjoying, as I thought, the confusion he saw me in. + </p> + <p> + The wretch is now, methinks, before me; and now I see him awkwardly + striding backward, as he retired, till the edge of the opened door, which + he ran against, remembered him to turn his welcome back upon me. + </p> + <p> + Upon his withdrawing, Betty brought me word, that I was permitted to go up + to my own chamber: and was bid to consider of every thing: for my time was + short. Nevertheless, she believed I might be permitted to stay till + Saturday. + </p> + <p> + She tells me, that although my brother and sister were blamed for being so + hasty with me, yet when they made their report, and my uncle Antony his, + of my provocations, they were all more determined than ever in Mr. + Solmes's favour. + </p> + <p> + The wretch himself, she tells me, pretends to be more in love with me than + before; and to be rather delighted than discouraged with the conversation + that passed between us. He ran on, she says, in raptures, about the grace + wherewith I should dignify his board; and the like sort of stuff, either + of his saying, or of her making. + </p> + <p> + She closed all with a Now is your time, Miss, to submit with a grace, and + to make your own terms with him:—else, I can tell you, were I Mr. + Solmes, it should be worse for you: And who, Miss, of our sex, proceeded + the saucy creature, would admire a rakish gentleman, when she might be + admired by a sober one to the end of the chapter? + </p> + <p> + She made this further speech to me on quitting my chamber—You have + had amazing good luck, Miss. I must tell you, to keep your writings + concealed so cunningly. You must needs think I know that you are always at + your pen: and as you endeavour to hide that knowledge from me, I do not + think myself obliged to keep your secret. But I love not to aggravate. I + had rather reconcile by much. Peace-making is my talent, and ever was. And + had I been as much your foe, as you imagine, you had not perhaps been here + now. But this, however, I do not say to make a merit with you, Miss: for, + truly, it will be the better for you the sooner every thing is over with + you. And better for me, and for every one else; that's certain. Yet one + hint I must conclude with; that your pen and ink (soon as you are to go + away) will not be long in your power, I do assure you, Miss. And then, + having lost that amusement, it will be seen, how a mind so active as yours + will be able to employ itself. + </p> + <p> + This hint alarms me so much, that I shall instantly begin to conceal, in + different places, pens, inks, and paper; and to deposit some in the ivy + summer-house, if I can find a safe place there; and, at the worst, I have + got a pencil of black, and another of red lead, which I use in my + drawings; and my patterns shall serve for paper, if I have no other. + </p> + <p> + How lucky it was, that I had got away my papers! They made a strict search + for them; that I can see, by the disorderly manner they have left all + things in: for you know that I am such an observer of method, that I can + go to a bit of ribband, or lace, or edging, blindfold. The same in my + books; which they have strangely disordered and mismatched; to look behind + them, and in some of them, I suppose. My clothes too are rumpled not a + little. No place has escaped them. To your hint, I thank you, are they + indebted for their disappointment. + </p> + <p> + The pen, through heaviness and fatigue, dropt out of my fingers, at the + word indebted. I resumed it, to finish the sentence; and to tell you, that + I am, + </p> + <p> + Your for ever obliged and affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXV + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK, APRIL 5. + </h3> + <p> + I must write as I have opportunity; making use of my concealed stores: for + my pens and ink (all of each that they could find) are taken from me; as I + shall tell you about more particularly by and by. + </p> + <p> + About an hour ago, I deposited my long letter to you; as also, in the + usual place, a billet to Mr. Lovelace, lest his impatience should put him + upon some rashness; signifying, in four lines, 'That the interview was + over; and that I hoped my steady refusal of Mr. Solmes would discourage + any further applications to me in his favour.' + </p> + <p> + Although I was unable (through the fatigue I had undergone, and by reason + of sitting up all night, to write to you, which made me lie longer than + ordinary this morning) to deposit my letter to you sooner, yet I hope you + will have it in such good time, as that you will be able to send me an + answer to it this night, or in the morning early; which, if ever so short, + will inform me, whether I may depend upon your mother's indulgence or not. + This it behoves me to know as soon as possible; for they are resolved to + hurry me away on Saturday next at farthest; perhaps to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + I will now inform you of all that has happened previous to their taking + away my pen and ink, as well as of the manner in which that act of + violence was committed; and this as briefly as I can. + </p> + <p> + My aunt, who (as well as Mr. Solmes, and my two uncles) lives here, I + think, came up to me, and said, she would fain have me hear what Mr. + Solmes had to say of Mr. Lovelace—only that I may be apprized of + some things, that would convince me what a vile man he is, and what a + wretched husband he must make. I might give them what degree of credit I + pleased; and take them with abatement for Mr. Solmes's interestedness, if + I thought fit. But it might be of use to me, were it but to question Mr. + Lovelace indirectly upon some of them, that related to myself. + </p> + <p> + I was indifferent, I said, about what he could say of me; and I was sure + it could not be to my disadvantage; and as he had no reason to impute to + me the forwardness which my unkind friends had so causelessly taxed me + with. + </p> + <p> + She said, That he gave himself high airs on account of his family; and + spoke as despicably of ours as if an alliance with us were beneath him. + </p> + <p> + I replied, That he was a very unworthy man, if it were true, to speak + slightingly of a family, which was as good as his own, 'bating that it was + not allied to the peerage: that the dignity itself, I thought, conveyed + more shame than honour to descendants, who had not merit to adorn, as well + as to be adorned by it: that my brother's absurd pride, indeed, which made + him every where declare, he would never marry but to quality, gave a + disgraceful preference against ours: but that were I to be assured, that + Mr. Lovelace was capable of so mean a pride as to insult us or value + himself on such an accidental advantage, I should think as despicably of + his sense, as every body else did of his morals. + </p> + <p> + She insisted upon it, that he had taken such liberties, it would be but + common justice (so much hated as he was by all our family, and so much + inveighed against in all companies by them) to inquire into the + provocation he had to say what was imputed to him; and whether the value + some of my friends put upon the riches they possess (throwing perhaps + contempt upon every other advantage, and even discrediting their own + pretensions to family, in order to depreciate his) might not provoke him + to like contempts. Upon the whole, Madam, said I, can you say, that the + inveteracy lies not as much on our side, as on his? Can he say any thing + of us more disrespectful than we say of him?—And as to the + suggestion, so often repeated, that he will make a bad husband, Is it + possible for him to use a wife worse than I am used; particularly by my + brother and sister? + </p> + <p> + Ah, Niece! Ah, my dear! how firmly has this wicked man attached you! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps not, Madam. But really great care should be taken by fathers and + mothers, when they would have their daughters of their minds in these + particulars, not to say things that shall necessitate the child, in honour + and generosity, to take part with the man her friends are averse to. But, + waving all this, as I have offered to renounce him for ever, I see now why + he should be mentioned to me, nor why I should be wished to hear any thing + about him. + </p> + <p> + Well, but still, my dear, there can be no harm to let Mr. Solmes tell you + what Mr. Lovelace has said of you. Severely as you have treated Mr. + Solmes, he is fond of attending you once more: he begs to be heard on this + head. + </p> + <p> + If it be proper for me to hear it, Madam— + </p> + <p> + It is, eagerly interrupted she, very proper. + </p> + <p> + Has what he has said of me, Madam, convinced you of Mr. Lovelace's + baseness? + </p> + <p> + It has, my dear: and that you ought to abhor him for it. + </p> + <p> + Then, dear Madam, be pleased to let me hear it from your mouth: there is + no need that I should see Mr. Solmes, when it will have double the weight + from you. What, Madam, has the man dared to say of me? + </p> + <p> + My aunt was quite at a loss. + </p> + <p> + At last, Well, said she, I see how you are attached. I am sorry for it, + Miss. For I do assure you, it will signify nothing. You must be Mrs. + Solmes; and that in a very few days. + </p> + <p> + If consent of heart, and assent of voice, be necessary to a marriage, I am + sure I never can, nor ever will, be married to Mr. Solmes. And what will + any of my relations be answerable for, if they force my hand into his, and + hold it there till the service be read; I perhaps insensible, and in fits, + all the time! + </p> + <p> + What a romantic picture of a forced marriage have you drawn, Niece! Some + people would say, you have given a fine description of your own obstinacy, + child. + </p> + <p> + My brother and sister would: but you, Madam, distinguish, I am sure, + between obstinacy and aversion. + </p> + <p> + Supposed aversion may owe its rise to real obstinacy, my dear. + </p> + <p> + I know my own heart, Madam. I wish you did. + </p> + <p> + Well, but see Mr. Solmes once more, Niece. It will oblige and make for you + more than you imagine. + </p> + <p> + What should I see him for, Madam?—Is the man fond of hearing me + declare my aversion to him?—Is he desirous of having me more and + more incense my friends against myself?—O my cunning, my ambitious + brother! + </p> + <p> + Ah, my dear! with a look of pity, as if she understood the meaning of my + exclamation—But must that necessarily be the case? + </p> + <p> + It must, Madam, if they will take offence at me for declaring my steadfast + detestation of Mr. Solmes, as a husband. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes is to be pitied, said she. He adores you. He longs to see you + once more. He loves you the better for your cruel usage of him yesterday. + He is in raptures about you. + </p> + <p> + Ugly creature, thought I!—He in raptures! + </p> + <p> + What a cruel wretch must he be, said I, who can enjoy the distress to + which he so largely contributes!—But I see, I see, Madam, that I am + considered as an animal to be baited, to make sport for my brother and + sister, and Mr. Solmes. They are all, all of them, wanton in their + cruelty.—I, Madam, see the man! the man so incapable of pity!—Indeed + I will not see him, if I can help it—indeed I will not. + </p> + <p> + What a construction does your lively wit put upon the admiration Mr. + Solmes expresses of you!—Passionate as you were yesterday, and + contemptuously as you treated him, he dotes upon you for the very severity + by which he suffers. He is not so ungenerous a man as you think him: nor + has he an unfeeling heart.—Let me prevail upon you, my dear, (as + your father and mother expect it of you,) to see him once more, and hear + what he has to say to you. + </p> + <p> + How can I consent to see him again, when yesterday's interview was + interpreted by you, Madam, as well as by every other, as an encouragement + to him? when I myself declared, that if I saw him a second time by my own + consent, it might be so taken? and when I am determined never to encourage + him? + </p> + <p> + You might spare your reflections upon me, Miss. I have no thanks either + from one side or the other. + </p> + <p> + And away she flung. + </p> + <p> + Dearest Madam! said I, following her to the door— + </p> + <p> + But she would not hear me further; and her sudden breaking from me + occasioned a hurry to some mean listener; as the slipping of a foot from + the landing-place on the stairs discovered to me. + </p> + <p> + I had scarcely recovered myself from this attack, when up came Betty—Miss, + said she, your company is desired below-stairs in your own parlour. + </p> + <p> + By whom, Betty? + </p> + <p> + How can I tell, Miss?—perhaps by your sister, perhaps by your + brother—I know they wont' come up stairs to your apartment again. + </p> + <p> + Is Mr. Solmes gone, Betty? + </p> + <p> + I believe he is, Miss—Would you have him sent for back? said the + bold creature. + </p> + <p> + Down I went: and to whom should I be sent for, but to my brother and Mr. + Solmes! the latter standing sneaking behind the door, so that I saw him + not, till I was mockingly led by the hand into the room by my brother. And + then I started as if I had beheld a ghost. + </p> + <p> + You are to sit down, Clary. + </p> + <p> + And what then, Brother? + </p> + <p> + Why then, you are to put off that scornful look, and hear what Mr. Solmes + has to say to you. + </p> + <p> + Sent down for to be baited again, thought I! + </p> + <p> + Madam, said Mr. Solmes, as if in haste to speak, lest he should not have + an opportunity given him, [and indeed he judged right,] Mr. Lovelace is a + declared marriage hater, and has a design upon your honour, if ever— + </p> + <p> + Base accuser! said I, in a passion, snatching my hand from my brother, who + was insolently motioning to give it to Mr. Solmes; he has not!—he + dares not!—But you have, if endeavouring to force a free mind be to + dishonour it! + </p> + <p> + O thou violent creature! said my brother—but not gone yet—for + I was rushing away. + </p> + <p> + What mean you, Sir, [struggling vehemently to get away,] to detain me thus + against my will? + </p> + <p> + You shall not go, Violence; clasping his unbrotherly arms about me. + </p> + <p> + Then let not Mr. Solmes stay.—Why hold you me thus? he shall not for + your own sake, if I can help it, see how barbarously a brother can treat a + sister who deserves not evil treatment. + </p> + <p> + And I struggled so vehemently to get from him, that he was forced to quit + my hand; which he did with these words—Begone then, Fury!—how + strong is will!—there is no holding her. + </p> + <p> + And up I flew to my chamber, and locked myself in, trembling and out of + breath. + </p> + <p> + In less than a quarter of an hour, up came Betty. I let her in upon her + tapping, and asking (half out of breath too) for admittance. + </p> + <p> + The Lord have mercy upon us! said she.—What a confusion of a house + is this! [hurrying up and down, fanning herself with her handkerchief,] + Such angry masters and mistresses!—such an obstinate young lady!—such + a humble lover!—such enraged uncles!—such—O dear!—dear! + what a topsy-turvy house is this!—And all for what, trow?—only + because a young lady may be happy, and will not?—only because a + young lady will have a husband, and will not have a husband? What + hurlyburlies are here, where all used to be peace and quietness! + </p> + <p> + Thus she ran on to herself; while I sat as patiently as I could (being + assured that her errand was not designed to be a welcome one to me) to + observe when her soliloquy would end. + </p> + <p> + At last, turning to me—I must do as I am bid. I can't help it—don't + be angry with me, Miss. But I must carry down your pen and ink: and that + this moment. + </p> + <p> + By whose order? + </p> + <p> + By your papa's and mamma's. + </p> + <p> + How shall I know that? + </p> + <p> + She offered to go to my closet: I stept in before her: touch it, if you + dare. + </p> + <p> + Up came my cousin Dolly—Madam!—Madam! said the poor weeping, + good natured creature, in broken sentences—you must—indeed you + must—deliver to Betty—or to me—your pen and ink. + </p> + <p> + Must I, my sweet Cousin? then I will to you; but not to this bold body. + And so I gave my standish to her. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry, very sorry, said she, Miss, to be the messenger: but your papa + will not have you in the same house with him: he is resolved you shall be + carried away to-morrow, or Saturday at farthest. And therefore your pen + and ink are taken away, that you may give nobody notice of it. + </p> + <p> + And away went the dear girl, very sorrowful, carrying down with her my + standish, and all its furniture, and a little parcel of pens beside, which + having been seen when the great search was made, she was bid to ask for. + </p> + <p> + As it happened, I had not diminished it, having hid half a dozen crow + quills in as many different places. It was lucky; for I doubt not they had + numbered how many were in the parcel. + </p> + <p> + Betty ran on, telling me, that my mother was now as much incensed against + me as any body—that my doom was fixed—that my violent + behaviour had not left one to plead for me—that Mr. Solmes bit his + lip, and muttered, and seemed to have more in his head, than could come + out at his mouth; that was her phrase. + </p> + <p> + And yet she also hinted to me, that the cruel wretch took pleasure in + seeing me; although so much to my disgust—and so wanted to see me + again.—Must he not be a savage, my dear? + </p> + <p> + The wench went on—that my uncle Harlowe said, That now he gave me up—that + he pitied Mr. Solmes—yet hoped he would not think of this to my + detriment hereafter: that my uncle Antony was of opinion, that I ought to + smart for it: and, for her part—and then, as one of the family, she + gave her opinion of the same side. + </p> + <p> + As I have no other way of hearing any thing that is said or intended + below, I bear sometimes more patiently than I otherwise should do with her + impertinence. And indeed she seems to be in all my brother's and sister's + counsels. + </p> + <p> + Miss Hervey came up again, and demanded an half-pint ink-bottle which they + had seen in my closet. + </p> + <p> + I gave it her without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + If they have no suspicion of my being able to write, they will perhaps let + me stay longer than otherwise they would. + </p> + <p> + This, my dear, is now my situation. + </p> + <p> + All my dependence, all my hopes, are in your mother's favour. But for + that, I know not what I might do: For who can tell what will come next? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY, FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE + AFTERNOON + </p> + <p> + I am just returned from depositing the letter I so lately finished, and + such of Mr. Lovelace's letters as I had not sent you. My long letter I + found remaining there—so you will have both together. + </p> + <p> + I am convinced, methinks, it is not with you.—But your servant + cannot always be at leisure. However, I will deposit as fast as I write. I + must keep nothing by me now; and when I write, lock myself in, that I may + not be surprised now they think I have no pen and ink. + </p> + <p> + I found in the usual place another letter from this diligent man: and, by + its contents, a confirmation that nothing passes in this house but he + knows it; and that almost as soon as it passes. For this letter must have + been written before he could have received my billet; and deposited, I + suppose, when that was taken away; yet he compliments me in it upon + asserting myself (as he calls it) on that occasion to my uncle and to Mr. + Solmes. + </p> + <p> + 'He assures me, however, that they are more and more determined to subdue + me. + </p> + <p> + 'He sends me the compliments of his family; and acquaints me with their + earnest desire to see me amongst them. Most vehemently does he press for + my quitting this house, while it is in my power to get away: and again + craves leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands at + the stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock. + </p> + <p> + 'Settlements to my own will he again offers. Lord M. and Lady Sarah and + Lady Betty to be guarantees of his honour and justice. But, if I choose + not to go to either of those ladies, nor yet to make him the happiest of + men so soon as it is nevertheless his hope that I will, he urges me to + withdraw to my own house, and to accept of Lord M. for my guardian and + protector till my cousin Morden arrives. He can contrive, he says, to give + me easy possession of it, and will fill it with his female relations on + the first invitation from me; and Mrs. Norton, or Miss Howe, may be + undoubtedly prevailed upon to be with me for a time. There can be no + pretence for litigation, he says, when I am once in it. Nor, if I choose + to have it so, will he appear to visit me; nor presume to mention marriage + to me till all is quiet and easy; till every method I shall prescribe for + a reconciliation with my friends is tried; till my cousin comes; till such + settlements are drawn as he shall approve of for me; and that I have + unexceptionable proofs of his own good behaviour.' + </p> + <p> + As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of upon + quitting my father's house, he observes (too truly I doubt) 'That the + treatment I meet with is in every one's mouth: yet, he says, that the + public voice is in my favour. My friends themselves, he says, expect that + I will do myself what he calls, this justice: why else do they confine me? + He urges, that, thus treated, the independence I have a right to will be + my sufficient excuse, going but from their house to my own, if I choose + that measure; or in order to take possession of my own, if I do not: that + all the disgrace I can receive, they have already given me: that his + concern and his family's concern in my honour, will be equal to my own, if + he may be so happy ever to call me his: and he presumes, he says, to aver, + that no family can better supply the loss of my own friends to me than + his, in whatever way I shall do them the honour to accept of his and their + protection. + </p> + <p> + 'But he repeats, that, in all events, he will oppose my being carried to + my uncle's; being well assured, that I shall be lost to him for ever, if + once I enter into that house.' He tells me, 'That my brother and sister, + and Mr. Solmes, design to be there to receive me: that my father and + mother will not come near me till the ceremony is actually over: and that + then they will appear, in order to try to reconcile me to my odious + husband, by urging upon me the obligations I shall be supposed to be under + from a double duty.' + </p> + <p> + How, my dear, am I driven on one side, and invited on the other!—This + last intimation is but a too probable one. All the steps they take seem to + tend to this! And, indeed, they have declared almost as much. + </p> + <p> + He owns, 'That he has already taken his measures upon this intelligence:—but + that he is so desirous for my sake (I must suppose, he says, that he owes + them no forbearance for their own) to avoid coming to extremities, that he + has suffered a person, whom they do not suspect, to acquaint them with his + resolutions, as if come at by accident, if they persist in their design to + carry me by violence to my uncle's; in hopes, that they may be induced + from the fear of mischief which may ensue, to change their measures: and + yet he is aware, that he has exposed himself to the greatest risques by + having caused this intimation to be given them; since, if he cannot + benefit himself by their fears, there is no doubt but they will doubly + guard themselves against him upon it.' + </p> + <p> + What a dangerous enterpriser, however, is this man! + </p> + <p> + 'He begs a few lines from me by way of answer to this letter, either this + evening, or to-morrow morning. If he be not so favoured, he shall + conclude, from what he knows of the fixed determination of my relations, + that I shall be under a closer restraint than before: and he shall be + obliged to take his measures according to that presumption.' + </p> + <p> + You will see by this abstract, as well by his letter preceding this, (for + both run in the same strain,) how strangely forward the difficulty of my + situation has brought him in his declarations and proposals; and in his + threatenings too: which, but for that, I would not take from him. + </p> + <p> + Something, however, I must speedily resolve upon, or it will be out of my + power to help myself. + </p> + <p> + Now I think of it, I will enclose his letter, (so might have spared the + abstract of it,) that you may the better judge of all his proposals, and + intelligence; and les it should fall into other hands. I cannot forgive + the contents, although I am at a loss what answer to return.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * She accordingly encloses Mr. Lovelace's letter. But as the + most material contents of it are given in her abstract, it + is omitted. +</pre> + <p> + I cannot bear the thoughts of throwing myself upon the protection of his + friends:—but I will not examine his proposals closely till I hear + from you. Indeed, I have no eligible hope, but in your mother's goodness + Hers is a protection I could more reputably fly to, than to that of any + other person: and from hers should be ready to return to my father's (for + the breach then would not be irreparable, as it would be, if I fled to his + family): to return, I repeat, on such terms as shall secure but my + negative; not my independence: I do not aim at that (so shall lay your + mother under the less difficulty); though I have a right to be put into + possession of my grandfather's estate, if I were to insist upon it:—such + a right, I mean, as my brother exerts in the bid, that I should ever think + myself freed from my father's reasonable controul, whatever right my + grandfather's will has given me! He, good gentleman, left me that estate, + as a reward of my duty, and not to set me above it, as has been justly + hinted to me: and this reflection makes me more fearful of not answering + the intention of so valuable a bequest.—Oh! that my friends knew but + my heart!—Would but think of it as they used to do!—For once + more, I say, If it deceive me not, it is not altered, although theirs are! + </p> + <p> + Would but your mother permit you to send her chariot, or chaise, to the + bye-place where Mr. Lovelace proposes Lord M.'s shall come, (provoked, + intimidated, and apprehensive, as I am,) I would not hesitate a moment + what to do. Place me any where, as I have said before—in a cot, in a + garret; any where—disguised as a servant—or let me pass as a + servant's sister—so that I may but escape Mr. Solmes on one hand, + and the disgrace of refuging with the family of a man at enmity with my + own, on the other; and I shall be in some measure happy!—Should your + good mother refuse me, what refuge, or whose, can I fly to?—Dearest + creature, advise your distressed friend. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I broke off here—I was so excessively uneasy, that I durst not trust + myself with my own reflections. I therefore went down to the garden, to + try to calm my mind, by shifting the scene. I took but one turn upon the + filbert-walk, when Betty came to me. Here, Miss, is your papa—here + is your uncle Antony—here is my young master—and my young + mistress, coming to take a walk in the garden; and your papa sends me to + see where you are, for fear he should meet you. + </p> + <p> + I struck into an oblique path, and got behind the yew-hedge, seeing my + sister appear; and there concealed myself till they were gone past me. + </p> + <p> + My mother, it seems is not well. My poor mother keeps her chamber—should + she be worse, I should have an additional unhappiness, in apprehension + that my reputed undutifulness had touched her heart. + </p> + <p> + You cannot imagine what my emotions were behind the yew-hedge, on seeing + my father so near me. I was glad to look at him through the hedge as he + passed by: but I trembled in every joint, when I heard him utter these + words: Son James, to you, and to you Bella, and to you, Brother, do I + wholly commit this matter. That I was meant, I cannot doubt. And yet, why + was I so affected; since I may be said to have been given up to the + cruelty of my brother and sister for many days past? + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + While my father remained in the garden, I sent my dutiful compliments to + my mother, with inquiry after her health, by Shorey, whom I met + accidentally upon the stairs; for none of the servants, except my + gaoleress, dare to throw themselves in my way. I had the mortification of + such a return, as made me repent my message, though not my concern for her + health. 'Let her not inquire after the disorders she occasions,' was her + harsh answer. 'I will not receive any compliments from her.' + </p> + <p> + Very, very hard, my dear! Indeed it is very hard. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I have the pleasure to hear that my mother is already better. A colicky + disorder, to which she is too subject. It is hoped it is gone off—God + send it may!—Every evil that happens in this house is owing to me! + </p> + <p> + This good news was told me, with a circumstance very unacceptable; for + Betty said, she had orders to let me know, that my garden-walks and + poultry-visits were suspected; and that both will be prohibited, if I stay + here till Saturday or Monday. + </p> + <p> + Possibly this is said by order, to make me go with less reluctance to my + uncle's. + </p> + <p> + My mother bid her say, if I expostulated about these orders, and about my + pen and ink, 'that reading was more to the purpose, at present, than + writing: that by the one, I might be taught my duty; that the other, + considering whom I was believed to write to, only stiffened my will: that + my needle-works had better be pursued than my airings; which were observed + to be taken in all weathers.' + </p> + <p> + So, my dear, if I do not resolve upon something soon, I shall neither be + able to avoid the intended evil, nor have it in my power to correspond + with you. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + WEDNESDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + All is in a hurry below-stairs. Betty is in and out like a spy. Something + is working, I know not what. I am really a good deal disordered in body as + well as in mind. Indeed I am quite heart-sick. + </p> + <p> + I will go down, though 'tis almost dark, on pretence of getting a little + air and composure. Robert has my two former, I hope, before now: and I + will deposit this, with Lovelace's enclosed, if I can, for fear of another + search. + </p> + <p> + I know not what I shall do!—All is so strangely busy!—Doors + clapt to—going out of one apartment, hurryingly, as I may say, into + another. Betty in her alarming way, staring, as if of frighted importance; + twice with me in half an hour; called down in haste by Shorey the last + time; leaving me with still more meaning in her looks and gestures—yet + possibly nothing in all this worthy of my apprehensions— + </p> + <p> + Here again comes the creature, with her deep-drawn affected sighs, and her + O dear's! O dear's! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + More dark hints thrown out by the saucy creature. But she will not explain + herself. 'Suppose this pretty business ends in murder! she says. I may rue + my opposition as long as I live, for aught she knows. Parents will not be + baffled out of their children by imprudent gentlemen; nor is it fit they + should. It may come home to me when I least expect it.' + </p> + <p> + These are the gloomy and perplexing hints this impertinent throws out. + Probably they arose from the information Mr. Lovelace says he has secretly + permitted them to have (from this vile double-faced agent, I suppose!) of + his resolution to prevent my being carried to my uncle's. + </p> + <p> + How justly, if so, may this exasperate them!—How am I driven to and + fro, like a feather in the wind, at the pleasure of the rash, the selfish, + the headstrong! and when I am as averse to the proceedings of the one, as + I am to those of the other! For although I was induced to carry on this + unhappy correspondence, as I think I ought to call it, in hopes to prevent + mischief; yet indiscreet measures are fallen upon by the rash man, before + I, who am so much concerned in the event of the present contentions, can + be consulted: and between his violence on one hand, and that of my + relations on the other, I find myself in danger from both. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! what is worldly wisdom but the height of folly!—I, the + meanest, at least youngest, of my father's family, to thrust myself in the + gap between such uncontroulable spirits!—To the intercepting perhaps + of the designs of Providence, which may intend to make those hostile + spirits their own punishers.—If so, what presumption!—Indeed, + my dear friend, I am afraid I have thought myself of too much consequence. + But, however this be, it is good, when calamities befal us, that we should + look into ourselves, and fear. + </p> + <p> + If I am prevented depositing this and the enclosed, (as I intend to try to + do, late as it is,) I will add to it as occasion shall offer. Mean time, + believe me to be + </p> + <p> + Your ever-affectionate and grateful CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + Under the superscription, written with a pencil, after she went down. + </p> + <p> + 'My two former are not yet taken away—I am surprised—I hope + you are well—I hope all is right betwixt your mother and you.' + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING, APRIL 9. + </h3> + <p> + I have your three letters. Never was there a creature more impatient on + the most interesting uncertainty than I was, to know the event of the + interview between you and Solmes. + </p> + <p> + It behoves me to account to my dear friend, in her present unhappy + situation, for every thing that may have the least appearance of + negligence or remissness on my part. I sent Robin in the morning early, in + hopes of a deposit. He loitered about the place till near ten to no + purpose; and then came away; my mother having given him a letter to carry + to Mr. Hunt's, which he was to deliver before three, when only, in the + day-time, that gentleman is at home; and to bring back an answer to it. + Mr. Hunt's house, you know, lies wide from Harlowe-place. Robin but just + saved his time; and returned not till it was too late to send him again. I + only could direct him to set out before day this morning; and if he got + any letter, to ride as for his life to bring it to me. + </p> + <p> + I lay by myself: a most uneasy night I had through impatience; and being + discomposed with it, lay longer than usual. Just as I was risen, in came + Kitty, from Robin, with your three letters. I was not a quarter dressed; + and only slipt on my morning sack; proceeding no further till I had read + them all through, long as they are: and yet I often stopped to rave aloud + (though by myself) at the devilish people you have to deal with. + </p> + <p> + How my heart rises at them all! How poorly did they design to trick you + into an encouragement of Solmes, from the extorted interview!—I am + very, very angry at your aunt Hervey—to give up her own judgment so + tamely!—and, not content to do so, to become such an active + instrument in their hands!—But it is so like the world!—so + like my mother too!—Next to her own child, there is not any body + living she values so much as you:—Yet it is—Why should we + embroil ourselves, Nancy, with the affairs of other people? + </p> + <p> + Other people!—How I hate the poor words, where friendship is + concerned, and where the protection to be given may be of so much + consequence to a friend, and of so little detriment to one's self? + </p> + <p> + I am delighted with your spirit, however. I expected it not from you Nor + did they, I am sure. Nor would you, perhaps, have exerted it, if + Lovelace's intelligence of Solmes's nursery-offices had not set you up. I + wonder not that the wretch is said to love you the better for it. What an + honour would it be to him to have such a wife? And he can be even with you + when you are so. He must indeed be a savage, as you say.—Yet he is + less to blame for his perseverance, than those of your own family, whom + most you reverence for theirs. + </p> + <p> + It is well, as I have often said, that I have not such provocations and + trials; I should perhaps long ago have taken your cousin Dolly's advice—yet + dare I not to touch that key.—I shall always love the good girl for + her tenderness to you. + </p> + <p> + I know not what to say of Lovelace; nor what to think of his promises, nor + of his proposals to you. 'Tis certain that you are highly esteemed by all + his family. The ladies are persons of unblemished honour. My Lord M. is + also (as men and peers go) a man of honour. I could tell what to advise + any other person in the world to do but you. So much expected from you!—Such + a shining light!—Your quitting your father's house, and throwing + yourself into the protection of a family, however honourable, that has a + man in it, whose person, parts, declarations, and pretensions, will be + thought to have engaged your warmest esteem;—methinks I am rather + for advising that you should get privately to London; and not to let + either him, or any body else but me, know where you are, till your cousin + Morden comes. + </p> + <p> + As to going to your uncle's, that you must not do, if you can help it. Nor + must you have Solmes, that's certain: Not only because of his unworthiness + in every respect, but because of the aversion you have so openly avowed to + him; which every body knows and talks of; as they do of your approbation + of the other. For your reputation sake therefore, as well as to prevent + mischief, you must either live single, or have Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + If you think of going to London, let me know; and I hope you will have + time to allow me a further concert as to the manner of your getting away, + and thither, and how to procure proper lodgings for you. + </p> + <p> + To obtain this time, you must palliate a little, and come into some + seeming compromise, if you cannot do otherwise. Driven as you are driven, + it will be strange if you are not obliged to part with a few of your + admirable punctilio's. + </p> + <p> + You will observe from what I have written, that I have not succeeded with + my mother. + </p> + <p> + I am extremely mortified and disappointed. We have had very strong debates + upon it. But, besides the narrow argument of embroiling ourselves with + other people's affairs, as above-mentioned, she will have it, that it is + your duty to comply. She says, she was always of opinion that daughters + should implicitly submit to the will of their parents in the great article + of marriage; and that she governed herself accordingly in marrying my + father; who at first was more the choice of her parents than her own. + </p> + <p> + This is what she argues in behalf of her favourite Hickman, as well as for + Solmes in your case. + </p> + <p> + I must not doubt, but my mother always governed herself by this principle—because + she says she did. I have likewise another reason to believe it; which you + shall have, though it may not become me to give it—that they did not + live so happily together, as one would hope people might do who married + preferring each other at the time to the rest of the world. + </p> + <p> + Somebody shall fare never the better for this double-meant policy of my + mother, I do assure you. Such a retrospection in her arguments to him, and + to his address, it is but fit that he should suffer for my mortification + in failing to carry a point upon which I had set my whole heart. + </p> + <p> + Think, my dear, if in any way I can serve you. If you allow of it, I + protest I will go off privately with you, and we will live and die + together. Think of it. Improve upon my hint, and command me. + </p> + <p> + A little interruption.—What is breakfast to the subject I am upon? + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + London, I am told, is the best hiding-place in the world. I have written + nothing but what I will stand in to at the word of command. Women love to + engage in knight-errantry, now-and-then, as well as to encourage it in the + men. But in your case, what I propose will not seem to have anything of + that nature in it. It will enable me to perform what is no more than a + duty in serving and comforting a dear and worthy friend, who labours under + undeserved oppression: and you will ennoble, as I may say, your Anna Howe, + if you allow her to be your companion in affliction. + </p> + <p> + I will engage, my dear, we shall not be in town together one month, before + we surmount all difficulties; and this without being beholden to any + men-fellows for their protection. + </p> + <p> + I must repeat what I have often said, that the authors of your + persecutions would not have presumed to set on foot their selfish schemes + against you, had they not depended upon the gentleness of your spirit; + though now, having gone so far, and having engaged Old AUTHORITY in it, + [chide me if you will!] neither he nor they know how to recede. + </p> + <p> + When they find you out of their reach, and know that I am with you, you'll + see how they'll pull in their odious horns. + </p> + <p> + I think, however, that you should have written to your cousin Morden, the + moment they had begun to treat you disgracefully. + </p> + <p> + I shall be impatient to hear whether they will attempt to carry you to + your uncle's. I remember, that Lord M.'s dismissed bailiff reported of + Lovelace, that he had six or seven companions as bad as himself; and that + the country was always glad when they left it.* He actually has, as I + hear, such a knot of them about him now. And, depend upon it, he will not + suffer them quietly to carry you to your uncle's: And whose must you be, + if he succeeds in taking you from them? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Vol.I. Letter IV. +</pre> + <p> + I tremble for you but upon supposing what may be the consequence of a + conflict upon this occasion. Lovelace owes some of them vengeance. This + gives me a double concern, that my mother should refuse her consent to the + protection I had set my heart upon procuring for you. + </p> + <p> + My mother will not breakfast without me. A quarrel has its conveniencies + sometimes. Yet too much love, I think, is as bad as too little. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + We have just now had another pull. Upon my word, she is excessively—what + shall I say?—unpersuadable—I must let her off with that soft + word. + </p> + <p> + Who was the old Greek, that said, he governed Athens; his wife, him; and + his son, her? + </p> + <p> + It was not my mother's fault [I am writing to you, you know] that she did + not govern my father. But I am but a daughter!—Yet I thought I was + not quite so powerless when I was set upon carrying a point, as I find + myself to be. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dear!—Happier times must come—and that quickly too.—The + strings cannot long continue to be thus overstrained. They must break or + be relaxed. In either way, the certainty must be preferable to the + suspense. + </p> + <p> + One word more: + </p> + <p> + I think in my conscience you must take one of these two alternatives; + either to consent to let us go to London together privately; [in which + case, I will procure a vehicle, and meet you at your appointment at the + stile to which Lovelace proposes to bring his uncle's chariot;] or, to put + yourself into the protection of Lord M. and the ladies of his family. + </p> + <p> + You have another, indeed; and that is, if you are absolutely resolved + against Solmes, to meet and marry Lovelace directly. + </p> + <p> + Whichsoever of these you make choice of, you will have this plea, both to + yourself, and to the world, that you are concluded by the same uniform + principle that has governed your whole conduct, ever since the contention + between Lovelace and your brother has been on foot: that is to say, that + you have chosen a lesser evil, in hopes to prevent a greater. + </p> + <p> + Adieu! and Heaven direct for the best my beloved creature, prays + </p> + <p> + Her ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, APRIL 6. + </h3> + <p> + I thank you, my dearest friend, for the pains you have taken in accounting + so affectionately for my papers not being taken away yesterday; and for + the kind protection you would have procured for me, if you could. + </p> + <p> + This kind protection was what I wished for: but my wishes, raised at first + by your love, were rather governed by my despair of other refuge [having + before cast about, and not being able to determine, what I ought to do, + and what I could do, in a situation so unhappy] than by a reasonable hope: + For why indeed should any body embroil themselves for others, when they + can avoid it? + </p> + <p> + All my consolation is, as I have frequently said, that I have not, by my + own inadvertence or folly, brought myself into this sad situation. If I + had, I should not have dared to look up to any body with the expectation + of protection or assistance, nor to you for excuse of the trouble I give + you. But nevertheless we should not be angry at a person's not doing that + for ourselves, or for our friend, which she thinks she ought not to do; + and which she has it in her option either to do, or to let it alone. Much + less have you a right to be displeased with so prudent a mother, for not + engaging herself so warmly in my favour, as you wished she would. If my + own aunt can give me up, and that against her judgment, as I may presume + to say; and if my father and mother, and uncles, who once loved me so + well, can join so strenuously against me; can I expect, or ought you, the + protection of your mother, in opposition to them? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear love, [permit me to be very serious,] I am afraid I am + singled out (either for my own faults, or for the faults of my family, or + perhaps for the faults of both) to be a very unhappy creature!—signally + unhappy! For see you not how irresistible the waves of affliction come + tumbling down upon me? + </p> + <p> + We have been till within these few weeks, every one of us, too happy. No + crosses, no vexations, but what we gave ourselves from the pamperedness, + as I may call it, of our own wills. Surrounded by our heaps and stores, + hoarded up as fast as acquired, we have seemed to think ourselves out of + the reach of the bolts of adverse fate. I was the pride of all my friends, + proud myself of their pride, and glorying in my standing. Who knows what + the justice of Heaven may inflict, in order to convince us, that we are + not out of the reach of misfortune; and to reduce us to a better reliance, + than what we have hitherto presumptuously made? + </p> + <p> + I should have been very little the better for the conversation-visits with + the good Dr. Lewen used to honour me with, and for the principles wrought + (as I may say) into my earliest mind by my pious Mrs. Norton, founded on + her reverend father's experience, as well as on her own, if I could not + thus retrospect and argue, in such a strange situation as we are in. + Strange, I may well call it; for don't you see, my dear, that we seem all + to be impelled, as it were, by a perverse fate, which none of us are able + to resist?—and yet all arising (with a strong appearance of + self-punishment) from ourselves? Do not my parents see the hopeful + children, from whom they expected a perpetuity of worldly happiness to + their branching family, now grown up to answer the till now distant hope, + setting their angry faces against each other, pulling up by the roots, as + I may say, that hope which was ready to be carried into a probable + certainty? + </p> + <p> + Your partial love will be ready to acquit me of capital and intentional + faults:—but oh, my dear! my calamities have humbled me enough to + make me turn my gaudy eye inward; to make me look into myself.—And + what have I discovered there?—Why, my dear friend, more secret pride + and vanity than I could have thought had lain in my unexamined heart. + </p> + <p> + If I am to be singled out to be the punisher of myself and family, who so + lately was the pride of it, pray for me, my dear, that I may not be left + wholly to myself; and that I may be enabled to support my character, so as + to be justly acquitted of wilful and premeditated faults. The will of + Providence be resigned to in the rest: as that leads, let me patiently and + unrepiningly follow!—I shall not live always!—May but my + closing scene be happy! + </p> + <p> + But I will not oppress you, my dearest friend, with further reflections of + this sort. I will take them all into myself. Surely I have a mind that has + room for them. My afflictions are too sharp to last long. The crisis is at + hand. Happier times you bid me hope for. I will hope. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + But yet, I cannot be but impatient at times, to find myself thus driven, + and my character so depreciated and sunk, that were all the future to be + happy, I should be ashamed to shew my face in public, or to look up. And + all by the instigation of a selfish brother, and envious sister— + </p> + <p> + But let me stop: let me reflect!—Are not these suggestions the + suggestions of the secret pride I have been censuring? Then, already so + impatient! but this moment so resigned, so much better disposed for + reflection! yet 'tis hard, 'tis very hard, to subdue an embittered spirit!—in + the instant of its trial too!—O my cruel brother!—but now it + rises again.—I will lay down a pen I am so little able to govern.—And + I will try to subdue an impatience, which (if my afflictions are sent me + for corrective ends) may otherwise lead me into still more punishable + errors.— + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I will return to a subject, which I cannot fly from for ten minutes + together—called upon especially, as I am, by your three alternatives + stated in the conclusion of your last. + </p> + <p> + As to the first; to wit, your advice for me to escape to London—let + me tell you, that the other hint or proposal which accompanies it + perfectly frightens me—surely, my dear, (happy as you are, and + indulgently treated as your mother treats you,) you cannot mean what you + propose! What a wretch must I be, if, for one moment only, I could lend an + ear to such a proposal as this!—I, to be the occasion of making such + a mother's (perhaps shortened) life unhappy to the last hour of it!—Ennoble + you, my dear creature! How must such an enterprise (the rashness public, + the motives, were they excusable, private) debase you!—but I will + not dwell upon the subject—for your own sake I will not. + </p> + <p> + As to your second alternative, to put myself into the protection of Lord + M. and of the ladies of that family, I own to you, (as I believe I have + owned before,) that although to do this would be the same thing in the eye + of the world as putting myself into Mr. Lovelace's protection, yet I think + I would do it rather than be Mr. Solmes's wife, if there were evidently no + other way to avoid being so. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace, you have seen, proposes to contrive a way to put me into + possession of my own house; and he tells me, that he will soon fill it + with the ladies of his family, as my visiters;—upon my invitation, + however, to them. A very inconsiderate proposal I think it to be, and upon + which I cannot explain myself to him. What an exertion of independency + does it chalk out for me! How, were I to attend to him, (and not to the + natural consequences to which the following of his advice would lead me,) + might I be drawn by gentle words into the penetration of the most violent + acts!—For how could I gain possession, but either by legal + litigation, which, were I inclined to have recourse to it, (as I never can + be,) must take up time; or by forcibly turning out the persons whom my + father has placed there, to look after the gardens, the house, and the + furniture—persons entirely attached to himself, and who, as I know, + have been lately instructed by my brother? + </p> + <p> + Your third alternative, to meet and marry Mr. Lovelace directly; a man + with whose morals I am far from being satisfied—a step, that could + not be taken with the least hope of ever obtaining pardon from or + reconciliation with any of my friends; and against which a thousand + objections rise in my mind—that is not to be thought of. + </p> + <p> + What appears to me, upon the fullest deliberation, the most eligible, if I + must be thus driven, is the escaping to London. But I would forfeit all my + hopes of happiness in this life, rather than you should go away with me, + as you rashly, though with the kindest intentions, propose. If I could get + safely thither, and be private, methinks I might remain absolutely + independent of Mr. Lovelace, and at liberty either to make proposals to my + friends, or, should they renounce me, (and I had no other or better way,) + to make terms with him; supposing my cousin Morden, on his arrival, were + to join with my other relations. But they would then perhaps indulge me in + my choice of a single life, on giving him up: the renewing to them this + offer, when at my own liberty, will at least convince them, that I was in + earnest when I made it first: and, upon my word, I would stand to it, dear + as you seem to think, when you are disposed to rally me, it would cost me, + to stand to it. + </p> + <p> + If, my dear, you can procure a vehicle for us both, you can perhaps + procure one for me singly: but can it be done without embroiling yourself + with your mother, or her with our family?—Be it coach, chariot, + chaise, wagon, or horse, I matter not, provided you appear not to have a + hand in my withdrawing. Only, in case it be one of the two latter, I + believe I must desire you to get me an ordinary gown and coat, or habit, + of some servant; having no concert with any of our own: the more ordinary + the better. They must be thrust on in the wood-house; where I can put them + on; and then slide down from the bank, that separates the wood-yard from + the green lane. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! my dear, this, even this alternative, is not without + difficulties, which, to a spirit so little enterprising as mine, seem in a + manner insuperable. These are my reflections upon it. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid, in the first place, that I shall not have time for the + requisite preparations for an escape. + </p> + <p> + Should I be either detected in those preparations, or pursued and + overtaken in my flight, and so brought back, then would they think + themselves doubly warranted to compel me to have their Solmes: and, + conscious of an intended fault, perhaps, I should be the less able to + contend with them. + </p> + <p> + But were I even to get safely to London, I know nobody there but by name; + and those the tradesmen to our family; who, no doubt, would be the first + written to and engaged to find me out. And should Mr. Lovelace discover + where I was, and he and my brother meet, what mischiefs might ensue + between them, whether I were willing or not to return to Harlowe-place! + </p> + <p> + But supposing I could remain there concealed, to what might my youth, my + sex, and unacquaintedness of the ways of that great, wicked town, expose + me!—I should hardly dare to go to church for fear of being + discovered. People would wonder how I lived. Who knows but I might pass + for a kept mistress; and that, although nobody came to me, yet, that every + time I went out, it might be imagined to be in pursuance of some + assignation? + </p> + <p> + You, my dear, who alone would know where to direct to me, would be watched + in all your steps, and in all your messages; and your mother, at present + not highly pleased with our correspondence, would then have reason to be + more displeased: And might not differences follow between her and you, + that would make me very unhappy, were I to know them? And this the more + likely, as you take it so unaccountably (and, give me leave to say, so + ungenerously) into your head, to revenge yourself upon the innocent Mr. + Hickman, for all the displeasure your mother gives you. + </p> + <p> + Were Lovelace to find out my place of abode, that would be the same thing + in the eye of the world as if I had actually gone off with him: For would + he, do you think, be prevailed upon to forbear visiting me? And then his + unhappy character (a foolish man!) would be no credit to any young + creature desirous of concealment. Indeed the world, let me escape whither, + and to whomsoever I could, would conclude him to be the contriver of it. + </p> + <p> + These are the difficulties which arise to me on revolving this scheme; + which, nevertheless, might appear surmountable to a more enterprising + spirit in my circumstances. If you, my dear, think them surmountable in + any one of the cases put, [and to be sure I can take no course, but what + must have some difficulty in it,] be pleased to let me know your free and + full thoughts upon it. + </p> + <p> + Had you, my dear friend, been married, then should I have had no doubt but + that you and Mr. Hickman would have afforded an asylum to a poor creature + more than half lost in her own apprehension for want of one kind + protecting friend! + </p> + <p> + You say I should have written to my cousin Morden the moment I was treated + disgracefully: But could I have believed that my friends would not have + softened by degrees when they saw my antipathy to their Solmes? + </p> + <p> + I had thoughts indeed several times of writing to my cousin: but by the + time an answer could have come, I imagined all would have been over, as if + it had never been: so from day to day, from week to week, I hoped on: and, + after all, I might as reasonably fear (as I have heretofore said) that my + cousin would be brought to side against me, as that some of those I have + named would. + </p> + <p> + And then to appeal a cousin [I must have written with warmth to engage + him] against a father; this was not a desirable thing to set about. Then I + had not, you know, one soul on my side; my mother herself against me. To + be sure my cousin would have suspended his judgment till he could have + arrived. He might not have been in haste to come, hoping the malady would + cure itself: but had he written, his letters probably would have run in + the qualifying style; to persuade me to submit, or them only to relax. Had + his letters been more on my side than on theirs, they would not have + regarded them: nor perhaps himself, had he come and been an advocate for + me: for you see how strangely determined they are; how they have over-awed + or got in every body; so that no one dare open their lips in my behalf. + And you have heard that my brother pushes his measures with the more + violence, that all may be over with me before my cousin's expected + arrival. + </p> + <p> + But you tell me, that, in order to gain time, I must palliate; that I must + seem to compromise with my friends: But how palliate? How seem to + compromise? You would not have me endeavour to make them believe, that I + will consent to what I never intended to consent to! You would not have me + to gain time, with a view to deceive! + </p> + <p> + To do evil, that good may come of it, is forbidden: And shall I do evil, + yet know not whether good may come of it or not? + </p> + <p> + Forbid it, heaven! that Clarissa Harlowe should have it in her thought to + serve, or even to save herself at the expense of her sincerity, and by a + studied deceit! + </p> + <p> + And is there, after all, no way to escape one great evil, but by plunging + myself into another?—What an ill-fated creature am I!—Pray for + me, my dearest Nancy!—my mind is at present so much disturbed, that + I can hardly pray for myself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY NIGHT. + </h3> + <p> + This alarming hurry I mentioned under my date of last night, and Betty's + saucy dark hints, come out to be owing to what I guessed they were; that + is to say, to the private intimation Mr. Lovelace contrived our family + should have of his insolent resolution [insolent I must call it] to + prevent my being carried to my uncle's. + </p> + <p> + I saw at the time that it was as wrong with respect to answering his own + view, as it was insolent: For, could he think, as Betty (I suppose from + her betters) justly observed, that parents would be insulted out of their + right to dispose of their own child, by a violent man, whom they hate; and + who could have no pretension to dispute that right with them, unless what + he had from her who had none over herself? And how must this insolence of + his, aggravated as my brother is able to aggravate it, exasperate them + against me? + </p> + <p> + The rash man has indeed so far gained his point, as to intimidate them + from attempting to carry me away: but he has put them upon a surer and a + more desperate measure: and this has driven me also into one as desperate; + the consequence of which, although he could not foresee it,* may perhaps + too well answer his great end, little as he deserves to have it answered. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * She was mistaken in this. Mr. Lovelace did foresee this + consequence. All his contrivances led to it, and the whole + family, as he boasts, unknown to themselves, were but so + many puppets danced by his wires. See Vol.I. Letter XXXI. +</pre> + <p> + In short, I have done, as far as I know, the most rash thing that ever I + did in my life. + </p> + <p> + But let me give you the motive, and then the action will follow of course. + </p> + <p> + About six o'clock this evening, my aunt (who stays here all night, on my + account, no doubt) came up and tapped at my door; for I was writing; and + had locked myself in. I opened it; and she entering, thus delivered + herself: + </p> + <p> + I come once more to visit you, my dear; but sorely against my will; + because it is to impart to you matters of the utmost concern to you, and + to the whole family. + </p> + <p> + What, Madam, is now to be done with me? said I, wholly attentive. + </p> + <p> + You will not be hurried away to your uncle's, child; let that comfort you.—They + see your aversion to go.—You will not be obliged to go to your uncle + Antony's. + </p> + <p> + How you revive me, Madam! this is a cordial to my heart! + </p> + <p> + I little thought, my dear, what was to follow this supposed condescension. + </p> + <p> + And then I ran over with blessings for this good news, (and she permitted + me so to do, by her silence); congratulating myself, that I thought my + father could not resolve to carry things to the last extremity.— + </p> + <p> + Hold, Niece, said she, at last—you must not give yourself too much + joy upon the occasion neither.—Don't be surprised, my dear.—Why + look you upon me, child, with so affecting an earnestness?—but you + must be Mrs. Solmes, for all that. + </p> + <p> + I was dumb. + </p> + <p> + She then told me, that they had undoubted information, that a certain + desperate ruffian (I must excuse her that word, she said) had prepared + armed men to way-lay my brother and uncles, and seize me, and carry me + off.—Surely, she said, I was not consenting to a violence that might + be followed by murder on one side or the other; perhaps on both. + </p> + <p> + I was still silent. + </p> + <p> + That therefore my father (still more exasperated than before) had changed + his resolution as to my going to my uncle's; and was determined next + Tuesday to set out thither himself with my mother; and that (for it was to + no purpose to conceal a resolution so soon to be put into execution)—I + must not dispute it any longer—on Wednesday I must give my hand—as + they would have me. + </p> + <p> + She proceeded, that orders were already given for a license: that the + ceremony was to be performed in my own chamber, in presence of all my + friends, except of my father and mother; who would not return, nor see me, + till all was over, and till they had a good account of my behaviour. + </p> + <p> + The very intelligence, my dear!—the very intelligence this, which + Lovelace gave me! + </p> + <p> + I was still dumb—only sighing, as if my heart would break. + </p> + <p> + She went on, comforting me, as she thought. 'She laid before me the merit + of obedience; and told me, that if it were my desire that my Norton should + be present at the ceremony, it would be complied with: that the pleasure I + should receive from reconciling al my friends to me, and in their + congratulations upon it, must needs overbalance, with such a one as me, + the difference of persons, however preferable I might think the one man to + the other: that love was a fleeting thing, little better than a name, + where mortality and virtue did not distinguish the object of it: that a + choice made by its dictates was seldom happy; at least not durably so: nor + was it to be wondered at, when it naturally exalted the object above its + merits, and made the lover blind to faults, that were visible to every + body else: so that when a nearer intimacy stript it of its imaginary + perfections, it left frequently both parties surprised, that they could be + so grossly cheated; and that then the indifference became stronger than + the love ever was. That a woman gave a man great advantages, and inspired + him with great vanity, when she avowed her love for him, and preference of + him; and was generally requited with insolence and contempt: whereas the + confessedly-obliged man, it was probable, would be all reverence and + gratitude'—and I cannot tell what. + </p> + <p> + 'You, my dear, said she, believe you shall be unhappy, if you have Mr. + Solmes: your parents think the contrary; and that you will be undoubtedly + so, were you to have Mr. Lovelace, whose morals are unquestionably bad: + suppose it were your sad lot to consider, what great consolation you will + have on one hand, if you pursue your parents' advice, that you did so; + what mortification on the other, that by following your own, you have + nobody to blame but yourself.' + </p> + <p> + This, you remember, my dear, was an argument enforced upon me by Mrs. + Norton. + </p> + <p> + These and other observations which she made were worthy of my aunt + Hervey's good sense and experience, and applied to almost any young + creature who stood in opposition to her parents' will, but one who had + offered to make the sacrifices I have offered to make, ought to have had + their due weight. But although it was easy to answer some of them in my + own particular case; yet having over and over, to my mother, before my + confinement, and to my brother and sister, and even to my aunt Hervey, + since, said what I must now have repeated, I was so much mortified and + afflicted at the cruel tidings she brought me, that however attentive I + was to what she said, I had neither power nor will to answer one word; + and, had she not stopped of herself, she might have gone on an hour + longer, without interruption from me. + </p> + <p> + Observing this, and that I only sat weeping, my handkerchief covering my + face, and my bosom heaving ready to burst; What! no answer, my dear?—Why + so much silent grief? You know I have always loved you. You know, that I + have no interest in the affair. You would not permit Mr. Solmes to + acquaint you with some things which would have set your heart against Mr. + Lovelace. Shall I tell you some of the matters charged against him?—shall + I, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Still I answered only by my tears and sighs. + </p> + <p> + Well, child, you shall be told these things afterwards, when you will be + in a better state of mind to hear them; and then you will rejoice in the + escape you will have had. It will be some excuse, then, for you to plead + for your behaviour to Mr. Solmes, that you could not have believed Mr. + Lovelace had been so very vile a man. + </p> + <p> + My heart fluttered with impatience and anger at being so plainly talked to + as the wife of this man; but yet I then chose to be silent. If I had + spoken, it would have been with vehemence. + </p> + <p> + Strange, my dear, such silence!—Your concern is infinitely more on + this side the day, than it will be on the other.—But let me ask you, + and do not be displeased, Will you choose to see what generous + stipulations for you there are in the settlements?—You have + knowledge beyond your years—give the writings a perusal: do, my + dear: they are engrossed, and ready for signing, and have been for some + time. Excuse me, my love—I mean not to disorder you:—your + father would oblige me to bring them up, and to leave them with you. He + commands you to read them. But to read them, Niece—since they are + engrossed, and were before you made them absolutely hopeless. + </p> + <p> + And then, to my great terror, she drew some parchments form her + handkerchief, which she had kept, (unobserved by me,) under her apron; and + rising, put them in the opposite window. Had she produced a serpent, I + could not have been more frightened. + </p> + <p> + Oh! my dearest Aunt, turning away my face, and holding out my hands, hide + from my eyes those horrid parchments!—Let me conjure you to tell me—by + all the tenderness of near relationship, and upon your honour, and by your + love for me, say, Are they absolutely resolved, that, come what will, I + must be that man's? + </p> + <p> + My dear, you must have Mr. Solmes: indeed you must. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I never will!—This, as I have said over and over, is not + originally my father's will.—Indeed I never will—and that is + all I will say! + </p> + <p> + It is your father's will now, replied my aunt: and, considering how all + the family is threatened by Mr. Lovelace, and the resolution he has + certainly taken to force you out of their hands, I cannot but say they are + in the right, not to be bullied out of their child. + </p> + <p> + Well, Madam, then nothing remains for me to say. I am made desperate. I + care not what becomes of me. + </p> + <p> + Your piety, and your prudence, my dear, and Mr. Lovelace's immoral + character, together with his daring insults, and threatenings, which ought + to incense you, as much as any body, are every one's dependence. We are + sure the time will come, when you'll think very differently of the steps + your friends take to disappoint a man who has made himself so justly + obnoxious to them all. + </p> + <p> + She withdrew; leaving me full of grief and indignation:—and as much + out of humour with Mr. Lovelace as with any body; who, by his conceited + contrivances, has made things worse for me than before; depriving me of + the hopes I had of gaining time to receive your advice, and private + assistance to get to town; and leaving me not other advice, in all + appearance, than either to throw myself upon his family, or to be made + miserable for ever with Mr. Solmes. But I was still resolved to avoid both + these evils, if possible. + </p> + <p> + I sounded Betty, in the first place, (whom my aunt sent up, not thinking + it proper, as Betty told me, that I should be left by myself, and who, I + found, knew their designs,) whether it were not probable that they would + forbear, at my earnest entreaty, to push matters to the threatened + extremity. + </p> + <p> + But she confirmed all my aunt said; rejoicing (as she said they all did) + that Mr. Lovelace had given them so good a pretence to save me from him + now, and for ever. + </p> + <p> + She ran on about equipages bespoken; talked of my brother's and sister's + exultations that now the whole family would soon be reconciled to each + other: of the servants' joy upon it: of the expected license: of a visit + to be paid me by Dr. Lewen, or another clergyman, whom they named not to + her; which was to crown the work: and of other preparations, so + particular, as made me dread that they designed to surprise me into a + still nearer day than Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + These things made me excessively uneasy. I knew not what to resolve upon. + </p> + <p> + At one time, What have I to do, thought I, but to throw myself at once + into the protection of Lady Betty Lawrance?—But then, in resentment + of his fine contrivances, which had so abominably disconcerted me, I soon + resolved to the contrary: and at last concluded to ask the favour of + another half-hour's conversation with my aunt. + </p> + <p> + I sent Betty to her with my request. + </p> + <p> + She came. + </p> + <p> + I put it to her, in the most earnest manner, to tell me, whether I might + not obtain the favour of a fortnight's respite? + </p> + <p> + She assured me, it would not be granted. + </p> + <p> + Would a week? Surely a week would? + </p> + <p> + She believed a week might, if I would promise two things: the first, upon + my honour, not to write a line out of the house, in that week: for it was + still suspected, she said, that I found means to write to somebody. And, + secondly, to marry Mr. Solmes, at the expiration of it. + </p> + <p> + Impossible! Impossible! I said with a passion—What! might not I be + obliged with one week, without such a horrid condition as the last? + </p> + <p> + She would go down, she said, that she might not seem of her own head to + put upon me what I thought a hardship so great. + </p> + <p> + She went down: and came up again. + </p> + <p> + Did I want, was the answer, to give the vilest of men an opportunity to + put his murderous schemes into execution?—It was time for them to + put an end to my obstinacy (they were tired out with me) and to his hopes + at once. And an end should be put on Tuesday or Wednesday next, at + furthest; unless I would give my honour to comply with the condition upon + which my aunt had been so good as to allow me a longer time. + </p> + <p> + I even stamped with impatience!—I called upon her to witness, that I + was guiltless of the consequence of this compulsion; this barbarous + compulsion, I called it; let that consequence be what it would. + </p> + <p> + My aunt chid me in a higher strain than ever she did before. + </p> + <p> + While I, in a half phrensy, insisted upon seeing my father; such usage, I + said, set me above fear. I would rejoice to owe my death to him, as I did + my life. + </p> + <p> + I did go down half way of the stairs, resolved to throw myself at his feet + wherever he was.—My aunt was frighted. She owned, that she feared + for my head.—Indeed I was in a perfect phrensy for a few minutes—but + hearing my brother's voice, as talking to somebody in my sister's + apartment just by, I stopt; and heard the barbarous designer say, speaking + to my sister, This works charmingly, my dear Arabella! + </p> + <p> + It does! It does! said she, in an exulting accent. + </p> + <p> + Let us keep it up, said my brother.—The villain is caught in his own + trap!—Now must she be what we would have her be. + </p> + <p> + Do you keep my father to it; I'll take care of my mother, said Bella. + </p> + <p> + Never fear, said he!—and a laugh of congratulation to each other, + and derision of me (as I made it out) quite turned my frantic humour into + a vindictive one. + </p> + <p> + My aunt then just coming down to me, and taking my hand led me up; and + tried to sooth me. + </p> + <p> + My raving was turned into sullenness. + </p> + <p> + She preached patience and obedience to me. + </p> + <p> + I was silent. + </p> + <p> + At last she desired me to assure her, that I would offer no violence to + myself. + </p> + <p> + God, I said, had given me more grace, I hoped, than to permit me to be + guilty of so horrid a rashness, I was his creature, and not my own. + </p> + <p> + She then took leave of me; and I insisted upon her taking down with her + the odious parchments. + </p> + <p> + Seeing me in so ill an humour, and very earnest that she should take them + with her, she took them; but said, that my father should not know that she + did: and hoped I would better consider of the matter, and be calmer next + time they were offered to my perusal. + </p> + <p> + I revolved after she was gone all that my brother and sister had said. I + dwelt upon their triumphings over me; and found rise in my mind a rancour + that was new to me; and which I could not withstand.—And putting + every thing together, dreading the near day, what could I do?—Am I + in any manner excusable for what I did do?—If I shall be condemned + by the world, who know not my provocations, may I be acquitted by you?—If + not, I am unhappy indeed!—for this I did. + </p> + <p> + Having shaken off the impertinent Betty, I wrote to Mr. Lovelace, to let + him know, 'That all that was threatened at my uncle Antony's, was intended + to be executed here. That I had come to a resolution to throw myself upon + the protection of either of his two aunts, who would afford it me—in + short, that by endeavouring to obtain leave on Monday to dine in the ivy + summer-house, I would, if possible, meet him without the garden-door, at + two, three, four, or five o'clock on Monday afternoon, as I should be + able. That in the mean time he should acquaint me, whether I might hope + for either of those ladies' protection: and if I might, I absolutely + insisted that he should leave me with either, and go to London himself, or + remain at Lord M.'s; nor offer to visit me, till I were satisfied that + nothing could be done with my friends in an amicable way; and that I could + not obtain possession of my own estate, and leave to live upon it: and + particularly, that he should not hint marriage to me, till I consented to + hear him upon that subject.—I added, that if he could prevail upon + one of the Misses Montague to favour me with her company on the road, it + would make me abundantly more easy in the thoughts of carrying into effect + a resolution which I had not come to, although so driven, but with the + utmost reluctance and concern; and which would throw such a slur upon my + reputation in the eye of the world, as perhaps I should never be able to + wipe off.' + </p> + <p> + This was the purport of what I wrote; and down into the garden I slid with + it in the dark, which at another time I should not have had the courage to + do; and deposited it, and came up again unknown to any body. + </p> + <p> + My mind so dreadfully misgave me when I returned, that, to divert in some + measure my increasing uneasiness, I had recourse to my private pen; and in + a very short time ran this length. + </p> + <p> + And now, that I am come to this part, my uneasy reflections begin again to + pour in upon me. Yet what can I do?—I believe I shall take it back + again the first thing in the morning—Yet what can I do? + </p> + <p> + And who knows but they may have a still earlier day in their intention, + than that which will too soon come? + </p> + <p> + I hope to deposit this early in the morning for you, as I shall return + from resuming my letter, if I do resume it as my inwardest mind bids me. + </p> + <p> + Although it is now near two o'clock, I have a good mind to slide down once + more, in order to take back my letter. Our doors are always locked and + barred up at eleven; but the seats of the lesser hall-windows being almost + even with the ground without, and the shutters not difficult to open, I + could easily get out. + </p> + <p> + Yet why should I be thus uneasy, since, should the letter go, I can but + hear what Mr. Lovelace says to it? His aunts live at too great a distance + for him to have an immediate answer from them; so I can scruple going to + them till I have invitation. I can insist upon one of his cousins meeting + me in the chariot; and may he not be able to obtain that favour from + either of them. Twenty things may happen to afford me a suspension at + least: Why should I be so very uneasy?—When likewise I can take back + my letter early, before it is probable he will have the thought of finding + it there. Yet he owns he spends three parts of his days, and has done for + this fortnight past, in loitering about sometimes in one disguise, + sometimes in another, besides the attendance given by his trusty servant + when he himself is not in waiting, as he calls it. + </p> + <p> + But these strange forebodings!—Yet I can, if you advise, cause the + chariot he shall bring with him, to carry me directly to town, whither in + my London scheme, if you were to approve it, I had proposed to go: and + this will save you the trouble of procuring for me a vehicle; as well as + prevent any suspicion from your mother of your contributing to my escape. + </p> + <p> + But, solicitous of your advice, and approbation too, if I can have it, I + will put an end to this letter. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest friend, adieu! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XL + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY MORNING, SEVEN O'CLOCK, APRIL + 7. + </p> + <p> + My aunt Hervey, who is a very early riser, was walking in the garden + (Betty attending her, as I saw from my window this morning) when I arose: + for after such a train of fatigue and restless nights, I had unhappily + overslept myself: so all I durst venture upon, was, to step down to my + poultry-yard, and deposit mine of yesterday, and last night. And I am just + come up; for she is still in the garden. This prevents me from going to + resume my letter, as I think still to do; and hope it will not be too + late. + </p> + <p> + I said, I had unhappily overslept myself: I went to bed about half an hour + after two. I told the quarters till five; after which I dropt asleep, and + awaked not till past six, and then in great terror, from a dream, which + has made such an impression upon me, that, slightly as I think of dreams, + I cannot help taking this opportunity to relate it to you. + </p> + <p> + 'Methought my brother, my uncle Antony, and Mr. Solmes, had formed a plot + to destroy Mr. Lovelace; who discovering it, and believing I had a hand in + it, turned all his rage against me. I thought he made them all fly to + foreign parts upon it; and afterwards seizing upon me, carried me into a + church-yard; and there, notwithstanding, all my prayers and tears, and + protestations of innocence, stabbed me to the heart, and then tumbled me + into a deep grave ready dug, among two or three half-dissolved carcases; + throwing in the dirt and earth upon me with his hands, and trampling it + down with his feet.' + </p> + <p> + I awoke in a cold sweat, trembling, and in agonies; and still the + frightful images raised by it remain upon my memory. + </p> + <p> + But why should I, who have such real evils to contend with, regard + imaginary ones? This, no doubt, was owing to my disturbed imagination; + huddling together wildly all the frightful idea which my aunt's + communications and discourse, my letter to Mr. Lovelace, my own uneasiness + upon it, and the apprehensions of the dreaded Wednesday, furnished me + with. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + EIGHT O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + The man, my dear, has got the letter!—What a strange diligence! I + wish he mean me well, that he takes so much pains!—Yet, to be + ingenuous, I must own, that I should be displeased if he took less—I + wish, however, he had been an hundred miles off!—What an advantage + have I given him over me! + </p> + <p> + Now the letter is out of my power, I have more uneasiness and regret than + I had before. For, till now, I had a doubt, whether it should or should + not go: and now I think it ought not to have gone. And yet is there any + other way than to do as I have done, if I would avoid Solmes? But what a + giddy creature shall I be thought, if I pursue the course to which this + letter must lead me? + </p> + <p> + My dearest friend, tell me, have I done wrong?—Yet do not say I + have, if you think it; for should all the world besides condemn me, I + shall have some comfort, if you do not. The first time I ever besought you + to flatter me. That, of itself, is an indication that I have done wrong, + and am afraid of hearing the truth—O tell me (but yet do not tell + me) if I have done wrong! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + FRIDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + My aunt has made me another visit. She began what she had to say with + letting me know that my friends are all persuaded that I still correspond + with Mr. Lovelace; as is plain, she said, by hints and menaces he throws + out, which shew that he is apprized of several things that have passed + between my relations and me, sometimes within a very little while after + they have happened. + </p> + <p> + Although I approve not of the method he stoops to take to come at his + intelligence, yet it is not prudent in me to clear myself by the ruin of + the corrupted servant, (although his vileness has neither my connivance + nor approbation,) since my doing so might occasion the detection of my own + correspondence; and so frustrate all the hopes I have to avoid this + Solmes. Yet it is not at all likely, that this very agent of Mr. Lovelace + acts a double part between my brother and him: How else can our family + know (so soon too) his menaces upon the passages they hint at? + </p> + <p> + I assured my aunt, that I was too much ashamed of the treatment I met with + (and that from every one's sake as well as for my own) to acquaint Mr. + Lovelace with the particulars of that treatment, even were the means of + corresponding with him afforded me: that I had reason to think, that if he + were to know of it from me, we must be upon such terms, that he would not + scruple making some visits, which would give me great apprehensions. They + all knew, I said, that I had no communication with any of my father's + servants, except my sister's Betty Barnes: for although I had a good + opinion of them all, and believed, if left to their own inclinations, that + they would be glad to serve me; yet, finding by their shy behaviour, that + they were under particular direction, I had forborn, ever since my Hannah + had been so disgracefully dismissed, so much as to speak to any of them, + for fear I should be the occasion of their losing their places too. They + must, therefore, account among themselves for the intelligence Mr. + Lovelace met with, since neither my brother nor sister, (as Betty had + frequently, in praise of their open hearts, informed me,) nor perhaps + their favourite Mr. Solmes, were all careful before whom they spoke, when + they had any thing to throw out against him, or even against me, whom they + took great pride to join with him on this occasion. + </p> + <p> + It was but too natural, my aunt said, for my friends to suppose that he + had his intelligence (part of it at least) from me; who, thinking yourself + hardly treated, might complain of it, if not to him, to Miss Howe; which, + perhaps, might be the same thing; for they knew Miss Howe spoke as freely + of them, as they could do of Mr. Lovelace; and must have the particulars + she spoke of from somebody who knew what was done here. That this + determined my father to bring the whole matter to a speedy issue, lest + fatal consequences should ensue. + </p> + <p> + I perceive you are going to speak with warmth, proceeded she: [and so I + was] for my own part I am sure, you would not write any thing, if you do + write, to inflame so violent a spirit.—But this is not the end of my + present visit. + </p> + <p> + You cannot, my dear, but be convinced, that your father will be obeyed. + The more you contend against his will, the more he thinks himself obliged + to assert his authority. Your mother desires me to tell you, that if you + will give her the least hopes of a dutiful compliance, she will be willing + to see you in her closet just now, while your father is gone to take a + walk in the garden. + </p> + <p> + Astonishing perseverance! said I—I am tired with making declarations + and with pleadings on this subject; and had hoped, that my resolution + being so well known, I should not have been further urged upon it. + </p> + <p> + You mistake the purport of my present visit, Miss: [looking gravely]—Heretofore + you have been desired and prayed to obey and oblige your friends. Entreaty + is at an end: they give it up. Now it is resolved upon, that your father's + will is to be obeyed; as it is fit it should. Some things are laid at your + door, as if you concurred with Lovelace's threatened violence to carry you + off, which your mother will not believe. She will tell you her own good + opinion of you. She will tell you how much she still loves you; and what + she expects of you on the approaching occasion. But yet, that she may not + be exposed to an opposition which would the more provoke her, she desires + that you will first assure her that you go down with a resolution to do + that with a grace which must be done with or without a grace. And besides, + she wants to give you some advice how to proceed in order to reconcile + yourself to your father, and to every body else. Will you go down, Miss + Clary, or will you not? + </p> + <p> + I said, I should think myself happy, could I be admitted to my mother's + presence, after so long a banishment from it; but that I could not wish it + upon those terms. + </p> + <p> + And this is your answer, Niece? + </p> + <p> + It must be my answer, Madam. Come what may, I never will have Mr. Solmes. + It is cruel to press this matter so often upon me.—I never will have + that man. + </p> + <p> + Down she went with displeasure. I could not help it. I was quite tired + with so many attempts, all to the same purpose. I am amazed that they are + not!—So little variation! and no concession on either side! + </p> + <p> + I will go down and deposit this; for Betty has seen I have been writing. + The saucy creature took a napkin, and dipt it in water, and with a + fleering air, here, Miss; holding the wet corner to me. + </p> + <p> + What's that for? said I. + </p> + <p> + Only, Miss, one of the fingers of your right-hand, if you please to look + at it. + </p> + <p> + It was inky. + </p> + <p> + I gave her a look; but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + But, lest I should have another search, I will close here. + </p> + <p> + CL. HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, ONE O'CLOCK. + </h3> + <p> + I have a letter from Mr. Lovelace, full of transports, vows, and promises. + I will send it to you enclosed. You'll see how 'he engages in it for Lady + Betty's protection, and for Miss Charlotte Montague's accompanying me. I + have nothing to do, but to persevere, he says, and prepare to receive the + personal congratulations of his whole family.' + </p> + <p> + But you'll see how he presumes upon my being his, as the consequence of + throwing myself into that lady's protection. + </p> + <p> + 'The chariot and six is to be ready at the place he mentions. You'll see + as to the slur upon my reputation, about which I am so apprehensive, how + boldly he argues.' Generously enough, indeed, were I to be his; and had + given him to believe that I would.—But that I have not done. + </p> + <p> + How one step brings on another with this encroaching sex; how soon a young + creature, who gives a man the least encouragement, be carried beyond her + intentions, and out of her own power! You would imagine, by what he + writes, that I have given him reason to think that my aversion to Mr. + Solmes is all owing to my favour for him. + </p> + <p> + The dreadful thing is, that comparing what he writes from his + intelligencer of what is designed against me (though he seems not to know + the threatened day) with what my aunt and Betty assure me of, there can be + no hope for me, but that I must be Solmes's wife, if I stay here. + </p> + <p> + I had better have gone to my uncle Antony's at this rate. I should have + gained time, at least, by it. This is the fruit of his fine contrivances! + </p> + <p> + 'What we are to do, and how good he is to be: how I am to direct all his + future steps.' All this shews, as I said before, that he is sure of me. + </p> + <p> + However, I have replied to the following effect: 'That although I had + given him room to expect that I would put myself into the protection of + one of the ladies of his family; yet as I have three days to come, between + this and Monday, and as I still hope that my friends will relent, or that + Mr. Solmes will give up a point they will find impossible to carry; I + shall not look upon myself as absolutely bound by the appointment: and + expect therefore, if I recede, that I shall not again be called to account + for it by him. That I think it necessary to acquaint him, that if my + throwing myself upon Lady Betty Lawrance's protection, as he proposed, he + understands, that I mean directly to put myself into his power, he is very + much mistaken: for that there are many point in which I must be satisfied; + several matters to be adjusted, even after I have left this house, (if I + do leave it,) before I can think of giving him any particular + encouragement: that in the first place he must expect that I will do my + utmost to procure my father's reconciliation and approbation of my future + steps; and that I will govern myself entirely by his commands, in every + reasonable point, as much as if I had not left his house: that if he + imagines I shall not reserve to myself this liberty, but that my + withdrawing is to give him any advantages which he would not otherwise + have had; I am determined to stay where I am, and abide the event, in + hopes that my friends will still accept of my reiterated promise never to + marry him, or any body else, without their consent. + </p> + <p> + This I will deposit as soon as I can. And as he thinks things are near + their crisis, I dare say it will not be long before I have an answer to + it. + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY, FOUR O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I am really ill. I was used to make the best of any little accidents that + befel me, for fear of making my then affectionate friends uneasy: but now + I shall make the worst of my indisposition, in hopes to obtain a + suspension of the threatened evil of Wednesday next. And if I do obtain + it, will postpone my appointment with Mr. Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + Betty has told them that I am very much indisposed. But I have no pity + from any body. + </p> + <p> + I believe I am become the object of every one's aversion; and that they + would all be glad if I were dead. Indeed I believe it. 'What ails the + perverse creature?' cries one:—'Is she love-sick?' another. + </p> + <p> + I was in the ivy summer-house, and came out shivering with cold, as if + aguishly affected. Betty observed this, and reported it.—'O no + matter!—Let her shiver on!—Cold cannot hurt her. Obstinacy + will defend her from harm. Perverseness is a bracer to a love-sick girl, + and more effectual than the cold bath to make hardy, although the + constitution be ever so tender.' + </p> + <p> + This was said by a cruel brother, and heard said by the dearer friends of + one, for whom, but a few months ago, every body was apprehensive at the + least blast of wind to which she exposed herself! + </p> + <p> + Betty, it must be owned, has an admirable memory on these occasions. + Nothing of this nature is lost by her repetition: even the very air with + which she repeats what she hears said, renders it unnecessary to ask, who + spoke this or that severe thing. + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY, SIX O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + My aunt, who again stays all night, just left me. She came to tell me the + result of my friends' deliberations about me. It is this: + </p> + <p> + Next Wednesday morning they are all to be assembled: to wit, my father, + mother, my uncles, herself, and my uncle Hervey; my brother and sister of + course: my good Mrs. Norton is likewise to be admitted: and Dr. Lewen is + to be at hand, to exhort me, it seems, if there be occasion: but my aunt + is not certain whether he is to be among them, or to tarry till called in. + </p> + <p> + When this awful court is assembled, the poor prisoner is to be brought in, + supported by Mrs. Norton; who is to be first tutored to instruct me in the + duty of a child; which it seems I have forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Nor is the success at all doubted, my aunt says: since it is not believed + that I can be hardened enough to withstand the expostulations of so + venerable a judicature, although I have withstood those of several of them + separately. And still the less, as she hints at extraordinary + condescensions from my father. But what condescensions, even from my + father, can induce me to make such a sacrifice as is expected from me? + </p> + <p> + Yet my spirits will never bear up, I doubt, at such a tribunal—my + father presiding in it. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I expected that my trials would not be at an end till he had + admitted me into his awful presence. + </p> + <p> + What is hoped from me, she says, is, that I will cheerfully, on Tuesday + night, if not before, sign the articles; and so turn the succeeding day's + solemn convention into a day of festivity. I am to have the license sent + me up, however, and once more the settlements, that I may see how much in + earnest they are. + </p> + <p> + She further hinted, that my father himself would bring up the settlements + for me to sign. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! what a trial will this be!—How shall I be able to refuse + my father the writing of my name?—To my father, from whose presence + I have been so long banished!—He commanding and entreating, perhaps, + in a breath!—How shall I be able to refuse this to my father? + </p> + <p> + They are sure, she says, something is working on Mr. Lovelace's part, and + perhaps on mine: and my father would sooner follow to the grave, than see + me his wife. + </p> + <p> + I said, I was not well: that the very apprehensions of these trials were + already insupportable to me; and would increase upon me, as the time + approached; and I was afraid I should be extremely ill. + </p> + <p> + They had prepared themselves for such an artifice as that, was my aunt's + unkind word; and she could assure me, it would stand me in no stead. + </p> + <p> + Artifice! repeated I: and this from my aunt Hervey? + </p> + <p> + Why, my dear, said she, do you think people are fools?—Can they not + see how dismally you endeavour to sigh yourself down within-doors?—How + you hang down your sweet face [those were the words she was pleased to + use] upon your bosom?—How you totter, as it were, and hold by this + chair, and by that door post, when you know that any body sees you? [This, + my dear Miss Howe, is an aspersion to fasten hypocrisy and contempt upon + me: my brother's or sister's aspersion!—I am not capable of arts so + low.] But the moment you are down with your poultry, or advancing upon + your garden-walk, and, as you imagine, out of every body's sight, it is + seem how nimbly you trip along; and what an alertness governs all your + motions. + </p> + <p> + I should hate myself, said I, were I capable of such poor artifices as + these. I must be a fool to use them, as well as a mean creature; for have + I not had experience enough, that my friends are incapable of being moved + in much more affecting instances?—But you'll see how I shall be by + Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + My dear, you will not offer any violence to your health?—I hope, God + has given you more grace than to do that. + </p> + <p> + I hope he has, Madam. But there is violence enough offered, and + threatened, to affect my health; and so it will be found, without my + needing to have recourse to any other, or to artifice either. + </p> + <p> + I'll only tell you one thing, my dear: and that is, ill or well, the + ceremony will probably be performed before Wednesday night:—but + this, also, I will tell you, although beyond my present commission, That + Mr. Solmes will be under an engagement (if you should require it of him as + a favour) after the ceremony is passed, and Lovelace's hopes thereby + utterly extinguished, to leave you at your father's, and return to his own + house every evening, until you are brought to a full sense of your duty, + and consent to acknowledge your change of name. + </p> + <p> + There was no opening of my lips to such a speech as this. I was dumb. + </p> + <p> + And these, my dear Miss Howe, are they who, some of them at least, have + called me a romantic girl!—This is my chimerical brother, and wise + sister; both joining their heads together, I dare say. And yet, my aunt + told me, that the last part was what took in my mother: who had, till that + last expedient was found out, insisted, that her child should not be + married, if, through grief or opposition, she should be ill, or fall into + fits. + </p> + <p> + This intended violence my aunt often excused, by the certain information + they pretended to have, of some plots or machinations, that were ready to + break out, from Mr. Lovelace:* the effects of which were thus cunningly to + be frustrated. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It may not be amiss to observe in this place, that Mr. + Lovelace artfully contrived to drive the family on, by + permitting his and their agent Leman to report machinations, + which he had neither intention nor power to execute. +</pre> + <p> + FRIDAY, NINE O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + And now, my dear, what shall I conclude upon? You see how determined—But + how can I expect your advice will come time enough to stand me in any + stead? For here I have been down, and already have another letter from Mr. + Lovelace [the man lives upon the spot, I think:] and I must write to him, + either that I will or will not stand to my first resolution of escaping + hence on Monday next. If I let him know that I will not, (appearances so + strong against him and for Solmes, even stronger than when I made the + appointment,) will it not be justly deemed my own fault, if I am compelled + to marry their odious man? And if any mischief ensue from Mr. Lovelace's + rage and disappointment, will it not lie at my door?—Yet, he offers + so fair!—Yet, on the other hand, to incur the censure of the world, + as a giddy creature—but that, as he hints, I have already incurred—What + can I do?—Oh! that my cousin Morden—But what signifies + wishing? + </p> + <p> + I will here give you the substance of Mr. Lovelace's letter. The letter + itself I will send, when I have answered it; but that I will defer doing + as long as I can, in hopes of finding reason to retract an appointment on + which so much depends. And yet it is necessary you should have all before + you as I go along, that you may be the better able to advise me in this + dreadful crisis. + </p> + <p> + 'He begs my pardon for writing with so much assurance; attributing it to + his unbounded transport; and entirely acquiesces to me in my will. He is + full of alternatives and proposals. He offers to attend me directly to + Lady Betty's; or, if I had rather, to my own estate; and that my Lord M. + shall protect me there.' [He knows not, my dear, my reasons for rejecting + this inconsiderate advice.] 'In either case, as soon as he sees me safe, + he will go up to London, or whither I please; and not come near me, but by + my own permission; and till I am satisfied in every thing I am doubtful + of, as well with regard to his reformation, as to settlements, &c. + </p> + <p> + 'To conduct me to you, my dear, is another of his proposals, not doubting, + he says, but your mother will receive me:* or, if that be not agreeable to + you, or to your mother, or to me, he will put me into Mr. Hickman's + protection; whom, no doubt he says, you can influence; and that it may be + given out, that I have gone to Bath, or Bristol, or abroad; wherever I + please. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Note in Letter V. of this Volume. +</pre> + <p> + 'Again, if it be more agreeable, he proposes to attend me privately to + London, where he will procure handsome lodgings for me, and both his + cousins Montague to receive me in them, and to accompany me till all shall + be adjusted to my mind; and till a reconciliation shall be effected; which + he assures me nothing shall be wanting in him to facilitate, greatly as he + has been insulted by all my family. + </p> + <p> + 'These several measures he proposes to my choice; as it was unlikely, he + says, that he could procure, in the time, a letter from Lady Betty, under + her own hand, to invite me in form to her house, unless he had been + himself to go to that lady for it; which, at this critical juncture, while + he is attending my commands, is impossible. + </p> + <p> + 'He conjures me, in the most solemn manner, if I would not throw him into + utter despair, to keep to my appointment. + </p> + <p> + 'However, instead of threatening my relations, or Solmes, if I recede, he + respectfully says, that he doubts not, but that, if I do, it will be upon + the reason, as he ought to be satisfied with; upon no slighter, he hopes, + than their leaving me at full liberty to pursue my own inclinations: in + which (whatever they shall be) he will entirely acquiesce; only + endeavouring to make his future good behaviour the sole ground for his + expectation of my favour. + </p> + <p> + 'In short, he solemnly vows, that his whole view, at present, is to free + me from my imprisonment; and to restore me to my future happiness. He + declares, that neither the hopes he has of my future favour, nor the + consideration of his own and his family's honour, will permit him to + propose any thing that shall be inconsistent with my own most scrupulous + notions: and, for my mind's sake, should choose to have the proposed end + obtained by my friends declining to compel me. But that nevertheless, as + to the world's opinion, it is impossible to imagine that the behaviour of + my relations to me has not already brought upon my family those free + censures which they deserve, and caused the step which I am so scrupulous + about taking, to be no other than the natural and expected consequence of + their treatment of me.' + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I am afraid all this is true: and it is owing to some little + degree of politeness, that Mr. Lovelace does not say all he might on this + subject: for I have no doubt that I am the talk, and perhaps the bye-word + of half the county. If so, I am afraid I can now do nothing that will give + me more disgrace than I have already so causelessly received by their + indiscreet persecutions: and let me be whose I will, and do what I will, I + shall never wipe off the stain which my confinement, and the rigorous + usage I have received, have fixed upon me; at least in my own opinion. + </p> + <p> + I wish, if ever I am to be considered as one of the eminent family this + man is allied to, some of them do not think the worse of me for the + disgrace I have received. In that case, perhaps, I shall be obliged to + him, if he do not. You see how much this harsh, this cruel treatment from + my own family has humbled me! But perhaps I was too much exalted before. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace concludes, 'with repeatedly begging an interview with me; and + that, this night, if possible: an hour, he says, he is the more encouraged + to solicit for, as I had twice before made him hope for it. But whether he + obtain it or not, he beseeches me to choose one of the alternatives he + offers to my acceptance; and not to depart from my resolution of escaping + on Monday, unless the reason ceases on which I had taken it up; and that I + have a prospect of being restored to the favour of my friends; at least to + my own liberty, and freedom of choice.' + </p> + <p> + He renews all his vows and promises on this head in so earnest and so + solemn a manner, that (his own interest, and his family's honour, and + their favour for me, co-operating) I can have no room to doubt of his + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SAT. MORN., EIGHT O'CLOCK, APRIL 8. + </h3> + <p> + Whether you will blame me or not, I cannot tell, but I have deposited a + letter confirming my resolution to leave this house on Monday next, within + the hour mentioned in my former, if possible. I have not kept a copy of + it. But this is the substance: + </p> + <p> + I tell him, 'That I have no way to avoid the determined resolution of my + friends in behalf of Mr. Solmes, but by abandoning this house by his + assistance.' + </p> + <p> + I have not pretended to make a merit with him on this score; for I plainly + tell him, 'That could I, without an unpardonable sin, die when I would, I + would sooner make death my choice, than take a step, which all the world, + if not my own heart, would condemn me for taking.' + </p> + <p> + I tell him, 'That I shall not try to bring any other clothes with me than + those I shall have on; and those but my common wearing-apparel; lest I + should be suspected. That I must expect to be denied the possession of my + estate: but that I am determined never to consent to a litigation with my + father, were I to be reduced to ever so low a state: so that the + protection I am to be obliged for to any one, must be alone for the + distress sake. That, therefore, he will have nothing to hope for from this + step that he had not before: and that in ever light I reserve to myself to + accept or refuse his address, as his behaviour and circumspection shall + appear to me to deserve.' + </p> + <p> + I tell him, 'That I think it best to go into a private lodging in the + neighbourhood of Lady Betty Lawrance; and not to her ladyship's house; + that it may not appear to the world that I have refuged myself in his + family; and that a reconciliation with my friends may not, on that + account, be made impracticable: that I will send for thither my faithful + Hannah; and apprize only Miss Howe where I am: that he shall instantly + leave me, and go to London, or to one of Lord M.'s seats; and as he had + promised not to come near me, but by my leave; contenting himself with a + correspondence by letter only. + </p> + <p> + 'That if I find myself in danger of being discovered, and carried back by + violence, I will then throw myself directly into the protection either of + Lady Betty or Lady Sarah: but this only in case of absolute necessity; for + that it will be more to my reputation, for me, by the best means I can, + (taking advantage of my privacy,) to enter by a second or third hand into + a treaty of reconciliation with my friends. + </p> + <p> + 'That I must, however, plainly tell him, 'That if, in this treaty, my + friends insist upon my resolving against marrying him, I will engage to + comply with them; provided they will allow me to promise him, that I will + never be the wife of any other man while he remains single, or is living: + that this is a compliment I am willing to pay him, in return for the + trouble and pains he has taken, and the usage he has met with on my + account: although I intimate, that he may, in a great measure, thank + himself (by reason of the little regard he has paid to his reputation) for + the slights he has met with.' + </p> + <p> + I tell him, 'That I may, in this privacy, write to my cousin Morden, and, + if possible, interest him in my cause. + </p> + <p> + 'I take some brief notice then of his alternatives.' + </p> + <p> + You must think, my dear, that this unhappy force upon me, and this + projected flight, make it necessary for me to account to him much sooner + than I should otherwise choose to do, for every part of my conduct. + </p> + <p> + 'It is not to be expected, I tell him, that your mother will embroil + herself, or suffer you or Mr. Hickman to be embroiled, on my account: and + as to his proposal of my going to London, I am such an absolute stranger + to every body there, and have such a bad opinion of the place, that I + cannot by any means think of going thither; except I should be induced, + some time hence, by the ladies of his family to attend them. + </p> + <p> + 'As to the meeting he is desirous of, I think it by no means proper; + especially as it is so likely that I may soon see him. But that if any + thing occurs to induce me to change my mind, as to withdrawing, I will + then take the first opportunity to see him, and give him my reasons for + that change. + </p> + <p> + This, my dear, I the less scrupled to write, as it might qualify him to + bear such a disappointment, should I give it him; he having, besides, + behaved so very unexceptionably when he surprised me some time ago in the + lonely wood-house. + </p> + <p> + Finally, 'I commend myself, as a person in distress, and merely as such, + to his honour, and to the protection of the ladies of his family. I repeat + [most cordially, I am sure!] my deep concern for being forced to take a + step so disagreeable, and so derogatory to my honour. And having told him, + that I will endeavour to obtain leave to dine in the Ivy Summer-house,* + and to send Betty of some errand, when there, I leave the rest to him; but + imagine, that about four o'clock will be a proper time for him to contrive + some signal to let me know he is at hand, and for me to unbolt the + garden-door.' + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The Ivy Summer-house (or Ivy Bower, as it was sometimes + called in the family) was a place, that from a girl, this + young lady delighted in. She used, in the summer months, + frequently to sit and work, and read, and write, and draw, + and (when permitted) to breakfast, and dine, and sometimes + to sup, in it; especially when Miss Howe, who had an equal + liking to it, was her visiter and guest. +</pre> + <p> + She describes it, in another letter (which appears not) as 'pointing to a + pretty variegated landscape of wood, water, and hilly country; which had + pleased her so much, that she had drawn it; the piece hanging up, in her + parlous, among some of her other drawings.' + </p> + <p> + I added, by way of postscript, 'That their suspicions seeming to increase, + I advise him to contrive to send or some to the usual place, as frequently + as possible, in the interval of time till Monday morning ten or eleven + o'clock; as something may possibly happen to make me alter my mind.' + </p> + <p> + O my dear Miss Howe!—what a sad, sad thing is the necessity, forced + upon me, for all this preparation and contrivance!—But it is now too + late!—But how!—Too late, did I say?—What a word is that!—What + a dreadful thing, were I to repent, to find it to be too late to remedy + the apprehended evil! + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY, TEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solmes is here. He is to dine with his new relations, as Betty tells + me he already calls them. + </p> + <p> + He would have thrown himself in my way once more: but I hurried up to my + prison, in my return from my garden-walk, to avoid him. + </p> + <p> + I had, when in the garden, the curiosity to see if my letter were gone: I + cannot say with an intention to take it back again if it were not, because + I see not how I could do otherwise than I have done; yet, what a caprice! + when I found it gone, I began (as yesterday morning) to wish it had not: + for no other reason, I believe, than because it was out of my power. + </p> + <p> + A strange diligence in this man!—He says, he almost lives upon the + place; and I think so too. + </p> + <p> + He mentions, as you will see in his letter, four several disguises, which + he puts on in one day. It is a wonder, nevertheless, that he has not been + seen by some of our tenants: for it is impossible that any disguise can + hide the gracefulness of his figure. But this is to be said, that the + adjoining grounds being all in our own hands, and no common foot-paths + near that part of the garden, and through the park and coppice, nothing + can be more bye and unfrequented. + </p> + <p> + Then they are less watchful, I believe, over my garden-walks, and my + poultry-visits, depending, as my aunt hinted, upon the bad character they + have taken so much pains to fasten upon Mr. Lovelace. This, they think, + (and justly think,) must fill me with doubts. And then the regard I have + hitherto had for my reputation is another of their securities. Were it not + for these two, they would not surely have used me as they have done; and + at the same time left me the opportunities which I have several times had, + to get away, had I been disposed to do so:* and, indeed, their dependence + on both these motives would have been well founded, had they kept but + tolerable measures with me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * They might, no doubt, make a dependence upon the reasons + she gives: but their chief reliance was upon the vigilance + of their Joseph Leman; little imagining what an implement he + was of Mr. Lovelace. +</pre> + <p> + Then, perhaps, they have no notion of the back-door; as it is seldom + opened, and leads to a place so pathless and lonesome.* If not, there can + be no other way to escape (if one would) unless by the plashy lane, so + full of springs, by which your servant reaches the solitary wood house; to + which lane one must descend from a high bank, that bounds the poultry + yard. For, as to the front-way, you know, one must pass through the house + to that, and in sight of the parlours, and the servants' hall; and then + have the open courtyard to go through, and, by means of the iron-gate, be + full in view, as one passes over the lawn, for a quarter of a mile + together; the young plantations of elms and limes affording yet but little + shade or covert. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This, in another of her letters, (which neither is + inserted,) is thus described:—'A piece of ruins upon it, + the remains of an old chapel, now standing in the midst of + the coppice; here and there an over-grown oak, surrounded + with ivy and mistletoe, starting up, to sanctify, as it + were, the awful solemnness of the place: a spot, too, where + a man having been found hanging some years ago, it was used + to be thought of by us when children, and by the maid- + servants, with a degree of terror, (it being actually the + habitation of owls, ravens, and other ominous birds,) as + haunted by ghosts, goblins, specters: the genuine result of + the country loneliness and ignorance: notions which, early + propagated, are apt to leave impressions even upon minds + grown strong enough at the same time to despise the like + credulous follies in others.' +</pre> + <p> + The Ivy Summer-house is the most convenient for this heart-affecting + purpose of any spot in the garden, as it is not far from the back-door, + and yet in another alley, as you may remember. Then it is seldom resorted + to by any body else, except in the summer-months, because it is cool. When + they loved me, they would often, for this reason, object to my long + continuance in it:—but now, it is no matter what becomes of me. + Besides, cold is a bracer, as my brother said yesterday. + </p> + <p> + Here I will deposit what I have written. Let me have your prayers, my + dear; and your approbation, or your censure, of the steps I have taken: + for yet it may not be quite too late to revoke the appointment. I am + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate and faithful CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + Why will you send your servant empty-handed? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SAT. AFTERNOON. + </h3> + <p> + By your last date of ten o'clock in your letter of this day, you could not + long have deposited it before Robin took it. He rode hard, and brought it + to be just as I had risen from table. + </p> + <p> + You may justly blame me for sending my messenger empty-handed, your + situation considered; and yet that very situation (so critical!) is partly + the reason for it: for indeed I knew not what to write, fit to send you. + </p> + <p> + I have been inquiring privately, how to procure you a conveyance from + Harlowe-place, and yet not appear in it; knowing, that to oblige in the + fact, and to disoblige in the manner, is but obliging by halves: my mother + being moreover very suspicious, and very uneasy; made more so by daily + visits from your uncle Antony; who tells her, that every thing is now upon + the point of being determined; and hopes, that her daughter will not so + interfere, as to discourage your compliance with their wills. This I came + at by a way that I cannot take notice of, or both should hear of it in a + manner neither would like: and, without that, my mother and I have had + almost hourly bickerings. + </p> + <p> + I found more difficulty than I expected (as the time was confined, and + secrecy required, and as you so earnestly forbid me to accompany you in + your enterprise) in procuring you a vehicle. Had you not obliged me to + keep measures with my mother, I could have managed it with ease. I could + even have taken our own chariot, on one pretence or other, and put two + horses extraordinary to it, if I had thought fit; and I could, when we had + got to London, have sent it back, and nobody the wiser as to the lodgings + we might have taken. + </p> + <p> + I wish to the Lord you had permitted this. Indeed I think you are too + punctilious a great deal for you situation. Would you expect to enjoy + yourself with your usual placidness, and not to be ruffled, in an + hurricane which every moment threatens to blow your house down? + </p> + <p> + Had your distress sprung from yourself, that would have been another + thing. But when all the world knows where to lay the fault, this alters + the case. + </p> + <p> + How can you say I am happy, when my mother, to her power, is as much an + abettor of their wickedness to my dearest friend, as your aunt, or any + body else?—and this through the instigation of that odd-headed and + foolish uncle of yours, who [sorry creature that he is!] keeps her up to + resolutions which are unworthy of her, for an example to me, if it please + you. Is not this cause enough for me to ground a resentment upon, + sufficient to justify me for accompanying you; the friendship between us + so well known? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear, the importance of the case considered, I must repeat, + that you are too nice. Don't they already think that your non-compliance + with their odious measures is owing a good deal to my advice? Have they + not prohibited our correspondence upon that very surmise? And have I, but + on your account, reason to value what they think? + </p> + <p> + Besides, What discredit have I to fear by such a step? What detriment? + Would Hickman, do you believe, refuse me upon it?—If he did, should + I be sorry for that?—Who is it, that has a soul, who would not be + affected by such an instance of female friendship? + </p> + <p> + But I should vex and disorder my mother!—Well, that is something: + but not more than she vexes and disorders me, on her being made an + implement by such a sorry creature, who ambles hither every day in spite + to my dearest friend—Woe be to both, if it be for a double end!—Chide + me, if you will: I don't care. + </p> + <p> + I say, and I insist upon it, such a step would ennoble your friend: and if + still you will permit it, I will take the office out of Lovelace's hands; + and, to-morrow evening, or on Monday before his time of appointment takes + place, will come in a chariot, or chaise: and then, my dear, if we get off + as I wish, will we make terms (and what terms we please) with them all. My + mother will be glad to receive her daughter again, I warrant: and Hickman + will cry for joy on my return; or he shall for sorrow. + </p> + <p> + But you are so very earnestly angry with me for proposing such a step, and + have always so much to say for your side of any question, that I am afraid + to urge it farther.—Only be so good (let me add) as to encourage me + to resume it, if, upon farther consideration, and upon weighing matters + well, (and in this light, whether best to go off with me, or with + Lovelace,) you can get over your punctilious regard for my reputation. A + woman going away with a woman is not so discreditable a thing, surely! and + with no view, but to avoid the fellows!—I say, only to be so good, + as to consider this point; and if you can get over your scruples on my + account, do. And so I will have done with this argument for the present; + and apply myself to some of the passages in yours. + </p> + <p> + A time, I hope, will come, that I shall be able to read your affecting + narratives without the impatient bitterness which now boils over in my + heart, and would flow to my pen, were I to enter into the particulars of + what you write. And indeed I am afraid of giving you my advice at all, or + telling you what I should do in your case (supposing you will still refuse + my offer; finding too what you have been brought or rather driven to + without it); lest any evil should follow it: in which case, I should never + forgive myself. And this consideration has added to my difficulties in + writing to you now you are upon such a crisis, and yet refuse the only + method—but I said, I would not for the present touch any more that + string. Yet, one word more, chide me if you please: If any harm betide + you, I shall for ever blame my mother—indeed I shall—and + perhaps yourself, if you do not accept my offer. + </p> + <p> + But one thing, in your present situation and prospects, let me advise: It + is this, that if you do go off with Mr. Lovelace, you take the first + opportunity to marry. Why should you not, when every body will know by + whose assistance, and in whose company, you leave your father's house, go + whithersoever you will?—You may indeed keep him at a distance, until + settlements are drawn, and such like matters are adjusted to your mind: + but even these are matters of less consideration in your particular case, + than they would be in that of most others: and first, because, be his + other faults what they will, nobody thinks him an ungenerous man: next, + because the possession of your estate must be given up to you as soon as + your cousin Morden comes; who, as your trustee, will see it done; and done + upon proper terms: 3dly, because there is no want of fortune on his side: + 4thly, because all his family value you, and are extremely desirous that + you should be their relation: 5thly, because he makes no scruple of + accepting you without conditions. You see how he has always defied your + relations: [I, for my own part, can forgive him for the fault: nor know I, + if it be not a noble one:] and I dare say, he had rather call you his, + without a shilling, than be under obligation to those whom he has full as + little reason to love, as they have to love him. You have heard, that his + own relations cannot make his proud spirit submit to owe any favour to + them. + </p> + <p> + For all these reasons, I think, you may the less stand upon previous + settlements. It is therefore my absolute opinion, that, if you do withdraw + with him, (and in that case you must let him be judge when he can leave + you with safety, you'll observe that,) you should not postpone the + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Give this matter your most serious consideration. Punctilio is out of + doors the moment you are out of your father's house. I know how justly + severe you have been upon those inexcusable creatures, whose giddiness and + even want of decency have made them, in the same hour as I may say, leap + from a parent's window to a husband's bed—but considering Lovelace's + character, I repeat my opinion, that your reputation in the eye of the + world requires no delay be made in this point, when once you are in his + power. + </p> + <p> + I need not, I am sure, make a stronger plea to you. + </p> + <p> + You say, in excuse for my mother, (what my fervent love for my friend very + ill brooks,) that we ought not to blame any one for not doing what she has + an opinion to do, or to let alone. This, in cases of friendship, would + admit of very strict discussion. If the thing requested be of greater + consequence, or even of equal, to the person sought to, and it were, as + the old phrase has it, to take a thorn out of one's friend's foot to put + in into one's own, something might be said.—Nay, it would be, I will + venture to say, a selfish thing in us to ask a favour of a friend which + would subject that friend to the same or equal inconvenience as that from + which we wanted to be relieved, The requested would, in this case, teach + his friend, by his own selfish example, with much better reason, to deny + him, and despise a friendship so merely nominal. But if, by a less + inconvenience to ourselves, we could relieve our friend from a greater, + the refusal of such a favour makes the refuser unworthy of the name of + friend: nor would I admit such a one, not even into the outermost fold of + my heart. + </p> + <p> + I am well aware that this is your opinion of friendship, as well as mine: + for I owe the distinction to you, upon a certain occasion; and it saved me + from a very great inconvenience, as you must needs remember. But you were + always for making excuses for other people, in cases wherein you would not + have allowed of one for yourself. + </p> + <p> + I must own, that were these excuses for a friend's indifference, or + denial, made by any body but you, in a case of such vast importance to + herself, and of so comparative a small one to those for whose protection + she would be thought to wish; I, who am for ever, as you have often + remarked, endeavouring to trace effects to their causes, should be ready + to suspect that there was a latent, unowned inclination, which balancing, + or preponderating rather, made the issue of the alternative (however + important) sit more lightly upon the excuser's mind than she cared to own. + </p> + <p> + You will understand me, my dear. But if you do not, it may be well for me; + for I am afraid I shall have it from you for but starting such a notion, + or giving a hint, which perhaps, as you did once in another case, you will + reprimandingly call, 'Not being able to forego the ostentation of + sagacity, though at the expense of that tenderness which is due to + friendship and charity.' + </p> + <p> + What signifies owning a fault without mending it, you'll say?—Very + true, my dear. But you know I ever was a saucy creature—ever stood + in need of great allowances.—And I remember, likewise, that I ever + had them from my dear Clarissa. Nor do I doubt them now: for you know how + much I love you—if it be possible, more than myself I love you! + Believe me, my dear: and, in consequence of that belief, you will be able + to judge how much I am affected by your present distressful and critical + situation; which will not suffer me to pass by without a censure even that + philosophy of temper in your own cause, which you have not in another's, + and which all that know you ever admired you for. + </p> + <p> + From this critical and distressful situation, it shall be my hourly + prayers that you may be delivered without blemish to that fair fame which + has hitherto, like your heart, been unspotted. + </p> + <p> + With this prayer, twenty times repeated, concludes Your ever affectionate, + ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + I hurried myself in writing this; and I hurry Robin away with it, that, in + a situation so very critical, you may have all the time possible to + consider what I have written, upon two points so very important. I will + repeat them in a very few words: + </p> + <p> + 'Whether you choose not rather to go off with one of your own sex; with + your ANNA HOWE—than with one of the other; with Mr. LOVELACE?' + </p> + <p> + And if not, + </p> + <p> + 'Whether you should not marry him as soon as possible?' + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE [THE PRECEDING LETTER NOT RECEIVED.] + SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + Already have I an ecstatic answer, as I may call it, to my letter. + </p> + <p> + 'He promises compliance with my will in every article: approves of all I + propose; particularly of the private lodging: and thinks it a happy + expedient to obviate the censures of the busy and the unreflecting: and + yet he hopes, that the putting myself into the protection of either of his + aunts, (treated as I am treated,) would be far from being looked upon by + any body in a disreputable light. But every thing I enjoin or resolve upon + must, he says, be right, not only with respect to my present but future + reputation; with regard to which, he hopes so to behave himself, as to be + allowed to be, next to myself, more properly solicitous than any body. He + will only assure me, that his whole family are extremely desirous to take + advantage of the persecutions I labour under to make their court, and + endear themselves to me, by their best and most cheerful services: happy + if they can in any measure contribute to my present freedom and future + happiness. + </p> + <p> + 'He will this afternoon, he says, write to Lord M. and to Lady Betty and + Lady Sarah, that he is now within view of being the happiest man in the + world, if it be not his own fault; since the only woman upon earth that + can make him so will be soon out of danger of being another man's; and + cannot possibly prescribe any terms to him that he shall not think it his + duty to comply with. + </p> + <p> + 'He flatters himself now (my last letter confirming my resolution) that he + can be in no apprehension of my changing my mind, unless my friends change + their manner of acting by me; which he is too sure they will not.* And now + will all his relations, who take such a kind and generous share in his + interests, glory and pride themselves in the prospects he has before him.' + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Well might he be so sure, when he had the art to play them + off, by his corrupted agent, and to make them all join to + promote his views unknown to themselves; as is shewn in some + of his preceding letters. +</pre> + <p> + Thus does he hold me to it. + </p> + <p> + 'As to fortune, he begs me not to be solicitous on that score: that his + own estate is sufficient for us both; not a nominal, but a real, two + thousand pounds per annum, equivalent to some estates reputed a third + more: that it never was encumbered; that he is clear of the world, both as + to book and bond debts; thanks, perhaps, to his pride, more than to his + virtue: that Lord M. moreover resolves to settle upon him a thousand + pounds per annum on his nuptials. And to this, he will have it, his + lordship is instigated more by motives of justice than of generosity; as + he must consider it was but an equivalent for an estate which he had got + possession of, to which his (Mr. Lovelace's) mother had better + pretensions. That his lordship also proposed to give him up either his + seat in Hertfordshire, or that in Lancashire, at his own or at his wife's + option, especially if I am the person. All which it will be in my power to + see done, and proper settlements drawn, before I enter into any farther + engagements with him; if I will have it so.' + </p> + <p> + He says, 'That I need not be under any solicitude as to apparel: all + immediate occasions of that sort will be most cheerfully supplied by the + ladies of his family: as my others shall, with the greatest pride and + pleasure (if I allow him that honour) by himself. + </p> + <p> + 'He assures me, that I shall govern him as I please, with regard to any + thing in his power towards effecting a reconciliation with my friends:' a + point he knows my heart is set upon. + </p> + <p> + 'He is afraid, that the time will hardly allow of his procuring Miss + Charlotte Montague's attendance upon me, at St. Alban's, as he had + proposed she should; because, he understands, she keeps her chamber with a + violent cold and sore throat. But both she and her sister, the first + moment she is able to go abroad, shall visit me at my private lodgings; + and introduce me to Lady Sarah and Lady Betty, or those ladies to me, as I + shall choose; and accompany me to town, if I please; and stay as long in + it with me as I shall think fit to stay there. + </p> + <p> + 'Lord M. will also, at my own time, and in my own manner, (that is to say, + either publicly or privately,) make me a visit. And, for his own part, + when he has seen me in safety, either in their protection, or in the + privacy I prefer, he will leave me, and not attempt to visit me but by my + own permission. + </p> + <p> + 'He had thought once, he says, on hearing of his cousin Charlotte's + indisposition, to have engaged his cousin Patty's attendance upon me, + either in or about the neighbouring village, or at St. Alban's: but, he + says, she is a low-spirited, timorous girl, and would but the more have + perplexed us.' + </p> + <p> + So, my dear, the enterprise requires courage and high spirits, you see!—And + indeed it does!—What am I about to do! + </p> + <p> + He himself, it is plain, thinks it necessary that I should be accompanied + with one of my own sex.—He might, at least, have proposed the woman + of one of the ladies of his family.—Lord bless me!—What am I + about to do!— + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + After all, as far as I have gone, I know not but I may still recede: and, + if I do, a mortal quarrel I suppose will ensue.—And what if it does?—Could + there be any way to escape this Solmes, a breach with Lovelace might make + way for the single life to take place, which I so much prefer: and then I + would defy the sex. For I see nothing but trouble and vexation that they + bring upon ours: and when once entered, one is obliged to go on with them, + treading, with tender feet, upon thorns, and sharper thorns, to the end of + a painful journey. + </p> + <p> + What to do I know not. The more I think, the more I am embarrassed!—And + the stronger will be my doubts as the appointed time draws near. + </p> + <p> + But I will go down, and take a little turn in the garden; and deposit + this, and his letters all but the two last, which I will enclose in my + next, if I have opportunity to write another. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, my dear friend——But what can I desire you to pray + for?—Adieu, then!—Let me only say—Adieu—! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE. [IN ANSWER TO LETTER XLIII.] SUNDAY + MORNING, APRIL 9. + </p> + <p> + Do not think, my beloved friend, although you have given me in yours of + yesterday a severer instance of what, nevertheless, I must call your + impartial love, than ever yet I received from you, that I would be + displeased with you for it. That would be to put myself into the + inconvenient situation of royalty: that is to say, out of the way of ever + being told of my faults; of ever mending them: and in the way of making + the sincerest and warmest friendship useless to me. + </p> + <p> + And then how brightly, how nobly glows in your bosom the sacred flame of + friendship; since it can make you ready to impute to the unhappy sufferer + a less degree of warmth in her own cause, than you have for her, because + of the endeavours to divest herself of self so far as to leave others to + the option which they have a right to make!—Ought I, my dear, to + blame, ought I not rather to admire you for this ardor? + </p> + <p> + But nevertheless, lest you should think that there is any foundation for a + surmise which (although it owe its rise to your friendship) would, if + there were, leave me utterly inexcusable, I must, in justice to myself, + declare, that I know not my own heart if I have any of that latent or + unowned inclination, which you would impute to any other but me. Nor does + the important alternative sit lightly on my mind. And yet I must excuse + your mother, were it but on this single consideration, that I could not + presume to reckon upon her favour, as I could upon her daughter's, so as + to make the claim of friendship upon her, to whom, as the mother of my + dearest friend, a veneration is owing, which can hardly be compatible with + that sweet familiarity which is one of the indispensable requisites of the + sacred tie by which your heart and mine are bound in one. + </p> + <p> + What therefore I might expect from my Anna Howe, I ought not from her + mother; for would it not be very strange, that a person of her experience + should be reflected upon because she gave not up her own judgment, where + the consequence of her doing so would be to embroil herself, as she + apprehends, with a family she has lived well with, and in behalf of a + child against her parents?—as she has moreover a daughter of her + own:—a daughter too, give me leave to say, of whose vivacity and + charming spirits she is more apprehensive than she need to be, because her + truly maternal cares make her fear more from her youth, than she hopes for + her prudence; which, nevertheless, she and all the world know to be beyond + her years. + </p> + <p> + And here let me add, that whatever you may generously, and as the result + of an ardent affection for your unhappy friend, urge on this head, in my + behalf, or harshly against any one who may refuse me protection in the + extraordinary circumstances I find myself in, I have some pleasure in + being able to curb undue expectations upon my indulgent friends, whatever + were to befal myself from those circumstances, for I should be extremely + mortified, were I by my selfish forwardness to give occasion for such a + check, as to be told, that I had encouraged an unreasonable hope, or, + according to the phrase you mention, wished to take a thorn out of my own + foot, and to put in to that of my friend. Nor should I be better pleased + with myself, if, having been taught by my good Mrs. Norton, that the best + of schools is that of affliction, I should rather learn impatience than + the contrary, by the lessons I am obliged to get by heart in it; and if I + should judge of the merits of others, as they were kind to me; and that at + the expense of their own convenience or peace of mind. For is not this to + suppose myself ever in the right; and all who do not act as I would have + them act, perpetually in the wrong? In short, to make my sake God's sake, + in the sense of Mr. Solmes's pitiful plea to me? + </p> + <p> + How often, my dear, have you and I endeavoured to detect and censure this + partial spirit in others? + </p> + <p> + But I know you do not always content yourself with saying what you think + may justly be said; but, in order the shew the extent of a penetration + which can go to the bottom of any subject, delight to say or to write all + that can be said or written, or even thought, on the particular occasion; + and this partly perhaps from being desirous [pardon me, my dear!] to be + thought mistress of a sagacity that is aforehand with events. But who + would wish to drain off or dry up a refreshing current, because it + now-and-then puts us to some little inconvenience by its over-flowings? In + other words, who would not allow for the liveliness of a spirit which for + one painful sensibility gives an hundred pleasurable ones; and the one in + consequence of the other? + </p> + <p> + But now I come to the two points in your letter, which most sensibly + concern me: Thus you put them: + </p> + <p> + 'Whether I choose not rather to go off [shocking words!] with one of my + own sex; with my ANNA HOWE—than with one of the other; with Mr. + LOVELACE?' + </p> + <p> + And if not, + </p> + <p> + 'Whether I should not marry him as soon as possible?' + </p> + <p> + You know, my dear, my reasons for rejecting your proposal, and even for + being earnest that you should not be known to be assisting me in an + enterprise in which a cruel necessity induced me to think of engaging; and + for which you have not the same plea. At this rate, well might your mother + be uneasy at our correspondence, not knowing to what inconveniencies it + might subject her and you!—If I am hardly excusable to think of + withdrawing from my unkind friends, what could you have to say for + yourself, were you to abandon a mother so indulgent? Does she suspect that + your fervent friendship may lead you to a small indiscretion? and does + this suspicion offend you? And would you, in resentment, shew her and the + world, that you can voluntarily rush into the highest error that any of + our sex can be guilty of? + </p> + <p> + And is it worthy of your generosity [I ask you, my dear, is it?] to think + of taking so undutiful a step, because you believe your mother would be + glad to receive you again? + </p> + <p> + I do assure you, that were I to take this step myself, I would run all + risks rather than you should accompany me in it. Have I, do you think, a + desire to double and treble my own fault in the eye of the world? in the + eye of that world which, cruelly as I am used, (not knowing all,) would + not acquit me? + </p> + <p> + But, my dearest, kindest friend, let me tell you, that we will neither of + us take such a step. The manner of putting your questions abundantly + convinces me, that I ought not, in your opinion, to attempt it. You no + doubt intend that I shall so take it; and I thank you for the equally + polite and forcible conviction. + </p> + <p> + It is some satisfaction to me (taking the matter in this light) that I had + begun to waver before I received your last. And now I tell you, that it + has absolutely determined me not to go off; at least not to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + If you, my dear, think the issue of the alternative (to use your own + words) sits so lightly upon my mind, in short, that my inclination is + faulty; the world would treat me much less scrupulously. When therefore + you represent, that all punctilio must be at an end the moment I am out of + my father's house; and hint, that I must submit it to Mr. Lovelace to + judge when he can leave me with safety; that is to say, give him the + option whether he will leave me, or not; who can bear these reflections, + who can resolve to incur these inconveniencies, that has the question + still in her own power to decide upon? + </p> + <p> + While I thought only of an escape from this house as an escape from Mr. + Solmes; that already my reputation suffered by my confinement; and that it + would be in my own option either to marry Mr. Lovelace, or wholly to + renounce him; bold as the step was, I thought, treated as I am treated, + something was to be said in excuse of it—if not to the world, to + myself: and to be self-acquitted, is a blessing to be preferred to the + option of all the world. But, after I have censured most severely, as I + have ever done, those giddy girls, who have in the same hour, as I may + say, that they have fled from their chamber, presented themselves at the + altar that is witness to their undutiful rashness; after I have stipulated + with Mr. Lovelace for time, and for an ultimate option whether to accept + or refuse him; and for his leaving me, as soon as I am in a place of + safety (which, as you observe, he must be the judge of); and after he has + signified to me his compliance with these terms; so that I cannot, if I + would, recall them, and suddenly marry;—you see, my dear, that I + have nothing left me but to resolve not to go away with him! + </p> + <p> + But, how, on this revocation of my appointment, shall I be able to pacify + him? + </p> + <p> + How!—Why assert the privilege of my sex!—Surely, on this side + of the solemnity he has no right to be displeased. Besides, did I not + reserve a power of receding, as I saw fit? To what purpose, as I asked in + the case between your mother and you, has any body an option, if the + making use of it shall give the refused a right to be disgusted? + </p> + <p> + Far, very far, would those, who, according to the old law, have a right of + absolving or confirming a child's promise, be from ratifying mine, had it + been ever so solemn a one.* But this was rather an appointment than a + promise: and suppose it had been the latter; and that I had not reserved + to myself a liberty of revoking it; was it to preclude better or maturer + consideration?—If so, how unfit to be given!—how ungenerous to + be insisted upon!—And how unfitter still to be kept!—Is there + a man living who ought to be angry that a woman whom he hopes one day to + call his, shall refuse to keep a rash promise, when, on the maturest + deliberation, she is convinced that it was a rash one? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Numb. XXX. Where it is declared, whose vows shall be + binding, and whose not. The vows of a man, or of a widow, + are there pronounced to be indispensable; because they are + sole, and subject to no other domestic authority. But the + vows of a single woman, or of a wife, if the father of the + one, or the husband of the other, disallow of them as soon + as they know them, are to be of no force. + + A matter highly necessary to be known; by all young ladies + especially, whose designing addressers too often endeavour + to engage them by vows; and then plead conscience and honour + to them to hold them down to the performance. + + It cannot be amiss to recite the very words. + + Ver. 3 If a woman vow a vow unto the Lord, and bind herself + by a bond, being in her father's house in her youth; + + 4. And her father hear her vow, and her bond wherewith she + hath bound her soul, and her father shall hold his peace at + her; then all her vows shall stand, and every bond wherewith + she hath bound her soul shall stand. + + 5. But if her father disallow her in the day that he + heareth; not any of her vows or of her bonds wherewith she + hath bound her soul shall stand: and the Lord shall forgive + her, because her father disallowed her. + + The same in the case of a wife, as said above. See ver. 6, + 7, 8, &c.—All is thus solemnly closed: + + Ver. 16. These are the statutes which the Lord commanded + Moses between a man and his wife, between the father and his + daughter, being yet in her youth in her father's house. +</pre> + <p> + I resolve then, upon the whole, to stand this one trial of Wednesday next—or, + perhaps, I should rather say, of Tuesday evening, if my father hold his + purpose of endeavouring, in person, to make me read, or hear read, and + then sign, the settlements.—That, that must be the greatest trial of + all. + </p> + <p> + If I am compelled to sign them over-night—then (the Lord bless me!) + must all I dread follow, as of course, on Wednesday. If I can prevail upon + them by my prayers [perhaps I shall fall into fits; for the very first + appearance of my father, after having been so long banished his presence, + will greatly affect me—if, I say, I can prevail upon them by my + prayers] to lay aside their views; or to suspend the day, if but for one + week; but if not, but for two or three days; still Wednesday will be a + lighter day of trial. They will surely give me time to consider: to argue + with myself. This will not be promising. As I have made no effort to get + away, they have no reason to suspect me; so I may have an opportunity, in + the last resort, to withdraw. Mrs. Norton is to be with me: she, although + she should be chidden for it, will, in my extremity, plead for me. My aunt + Hervey may, in such an extremity, join with her. Perhaps my mother may be + brought over. I will kneel to each, one by one, to make a friend. Some of + them have been afraid to see me, lest they should be moved in my favour: + does not this give a reasonable hope that I may move them? My brother's + counsel, heretofore given, to turn me out of doors to my evil destiny, may + again be repeated, and may prevail; then shall I be in no worse case than + now, as to the displeasure of my friends; and thus far better, that it + will not be my fault that I seek another protection: which even then ought + to be my cousin Morden's, rather than Mr. Lovelace's, or any other + person's. + </p> + <p> + My heart, in short, misgives me less, when I resolve this way, than when I + think of the other: and in so strong and involuntary a bias, the heart is, + as I may say, conscience. And well cautions the wise man: 'Let the counsel + of thine own heart stand; for there is no man more faithful to thee than + it: for a man's mind is sometimes wont to tell him more than seven + watchmen, that sit above in a high tower.'* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Ecclus. xxxvii. 13, 14. +</pre> + <p> + Forgive these indigested self-reasonings. I will close here: and instantly + set about a letter of revocation to Mr. Lovelace; take it as he will. It + will only be another trial of temper to him. To me of infinite importance. + And has he not promised temper and acquiescence, on the supposition of a + change in my mind? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVI + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 9. + </h3> + <p> + Nobody it seems will go to church this day. No blessing to be expected + perhaps upon views so worldly, and in some so cruel. + </p> + <p> + They have a mistrust that I have some device in my head. Betty has been + looking among my clothes. I found her, on coming up from depositing my + letter to Lovelace (for I have written!) peering among them; for I had + left the key in the lock. She coloured, and was confounded to be caught. + But I only said, I should be accustomed to any sort of treatment in time. + If she had her orders—those were enough for her. + </p> + <p> + She owned, in her confusion, that a motion had been made to abridge me of + my airings; and the report she should make, would be of no disadvantage to + me. One of my friends, she told me, urged in my behalf, That there was no + need of laying me under greater restraint, since Mr. Lovelace's + threatening to rescue me by violence, were I to have been carried to my + uncle's, was a conviction that I had no design to go to him voluntarily; + and that if I had, I should have made preparations of that kind before + now; and, most probably, had been detected in them.—Hence, it was + also inferred, that there was no room to doubt, but I would at last + comply. And, added the bold creature, if you don't intend to do so, your + conduct, Miss, seems strange to me.—Only thus she reconciled it, + that I had gone so far, I knew not how to come off genteelly: and she + fancied I should, in full congregation, on Wednesday, give Mr. Solmes my + hand. And then said the confident wench, as the learned Dr. Brand took his + text last Sunday, There will be joy in heaven— + </p> + <p> + This is the substance of my letter to Mr. Lovelace: + </p> + <p> + 'That I have reasons of the greatest consequence to myself (and which, + when known, must satisfy him) to suspend, for the present, my intention of + leaving my father's house: that I have hopes that matters may be brought + to an happy conclusion, without taking a step, which nothing but the last + necessity could justify: and that he may depend upon my promise, that I + will die rather than consent to marry Mr. Solmes.' + </p> + <p> + And so, I am preparing myself to stand the shock of his exclamatory reply. + But be that what it will, it cannot affect me so much, as the + apprehensions of what may happen to me next Tuesday or Wednesday; for now + those apprehensions engage my whole attention, and make me sick at the + very heart. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY, FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + My letter is not yet taken away—If he should not send for it, or + take it, or come hither on my not meeting him to-morrow, in doubt of what + may have befallen me, what shall I do! Why had I any concerns with this + sex!—I, that was so happy till I knew this man! + </p> + <p> + I dined in the ivy summer-house. My request to do so, was complied with at + the first word. To shew I meant nothing, I went again into the house with + Betty, as soon as I had dined. I thought it was not amiss to ask this + liberty; the weather seemed to be set in fine. Who knows what Tuesday or + Wednesday may produce? + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY EVENING, SEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + There remains my letter still!—He is busied, I suppose, in his + preparations for to-morrow. But then he has servants. Does the man think + he is so secure of me, that having appointed, he need not give himself any + further concern about me till the very moment? He knows how I am beset. He + knows not what may happen. I may be ill, or still more closely watched or + confined than before. The correspondence might be discovered. It might be + necessary to vary the scheme. I might be forced into measures, which might + entirely frustrate my purpose. I might have new doubts. I might suggest + something more convenient, for any thing he knew. What can the man mean, I + wonder!—Yet it shall lie; for if he has it any time before the + appointed hour, it will save me declaring to him personally my changed + purpose, and the trouble of contending with him on that score. If he send + for it at all, he will see by the date, that he might have had it in time; + and if he be put to any inconvenience from shortness of notice, let him + take it for his pains. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY NIGHT, NINE O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + It is determined, it seems, to send for Mrs. Norton to be here on Tuesday + to dinner; and she is to stay with me for a whole week. + </p> + <p> + So she is first to endeavour to persuade me to comply; and, when the + violence is done, she is to comfort me, and try to reconcile me to my + fate. They expect fits and fetches, Betty insolently tells me, and + expostulations, and exclamations, without number: but every body will be + prepared for them: and when it's over, it's over; and I shall be easy and + pacified when I find I can't help it. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY MORN. APRIL 10, SEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! there yet lies the letter, just as I left it! + </p> + <p> + Does he think he is so sure of me?—Perhaps he imagines that I dare + not alter my purpose. I wish I had never known him! I begin now to see + this rashness in the light every one else would have seen it in, had I + been guilty of it. But what can I do, if he come to-day at the appointed + time! If he receive not the letter, I must see him, or he will think + something has befallen me; and certainly will come to the house. As + certainly he will be insulted. And what, in that case, may be the + consequence! Then I as good as promised that I would take the first + opportunity to see him, if I change my mind, and to give him my reasons + for it. I have no doubt but he will be out of humour upon it: but better, + if we meet, that he should go away dissatisfied with me, than that I + should go away dissatisfied with myself. + </p> + <p> + Yet, short as the time is, he may still perhaps send, and get the letter. + Something may have happened to prevent him, which when known will excuse + him. + </p> + <p> + After I have disappointed him more than once before, on a requested + interview only, it is impossible he should not have a curiosity at least, + to know if something has not happened; and whether my mind hold or not in + this more important case. And yet, as I rashly confirmed my resolution by + a second letter, I begin now to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + NINE O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + My cousin Dolly Hervey slid the enclosed letter into my hand, as I passed + by her, coming out of the garden. + </p> + <p> + DEAREST MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I have got intelligence from one who pretends to know every thing, that + you must be married on Wednesday morning to Mr. Solmes. Perhaps, however, + she says this only to vex me; for it is that saucy creature Betty Barnes. + A license is got, as she says: and so far she went as to tell me (bidding + me say nothing, but she knew I would) that Mr. Brand is to marry you. For + Dr. Lewen I hear, refuses, unless your consent can be obtained; and they + have heard that he does not approve of their proceedings against you. Mr. + Brand, I am told, is to have his fortune made by uncle Harlowe and among + them. + </p> + <p> + You will know better than I what to make of all these matters; for + sometimes I think Betty tells me things as if I should not tell you, and + yet expects that I will.* For there is great whispering between Miss + Harlowe and her; and I have observed that when their whispering is over, + Betty comes and tells me something by way of secret. She and all the world + know how much I love you: and so I would have them. It is an honour to me + to love a young lady who is and ever was an honour to all her family, let + them say what they will. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It is easy for such of the readers as have been attentive + to Mr. Lovelace's manner of working, to suppose, from this + hint of Miss Hervey's, that he had instructed his double- + faced agent to put his sweet-heart Betty upon alarming Miss + Hervey, in hopes she would alarm her beloved cousin, (as we + see she does,) in order to keep her steady to her + appointment with him. +</pre> + <p> + But from a more certain authority than Betty's I can assure you (but I + must beg of you to burn this letter) that you are to be searched once more + for letters, and for pen and ink; for they know you write. Something they + pretend to have come at from one of Mr. Lovelace's servants, which they + hope to make something of. I know not for certain what it is. He must be a + very vile and wicked man who would boast of a lady's favour to him, and + reveal secrets. But Mr. Lovelace, I dare say, is too much of a gentleman + to be guilty of such ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Then they have a notion, from that false Betty I believe, that you intend + to take something to make yourself sick; and so they will search for + phials and powders and such like. + </p> + <p> + If nothing shall be found that will increase their suspicions, you are to + be used more kindly by your papa when you appear before them all, than he + of late has used you. + </p> + <p> + Yet, sick or well, alas! my dear cousin! you must be married. But your + husband is to go home every night without you, till you are reconciled to + him. And so illness can be no pretence to save you. + </p> + <p> + They are sure you will make a good wife. So would not I, unless I liked my + husband. And Mr. Solmes is always telling them how he will purchase your + love by rich presents.—A syncophant man!—I wish he and Betty + Barnes were to come together; and he would beat her every day. + </p> + <p> + After what I told you, I need not advise you to secure every thing you + would not have seen. + </p> + <p> + Once more let me beg that you will burn this letter; and, pray, dearest + Madam, do not take any thing that may prejudice your health: for that will + not do. I am + </p> + <p> + Your truly loving cousin, D.H. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When I first read my cousin's letter, I was half inclined to resume my + former intention; especially as my countermanding letter was not taken + away; and as my heart ached at the thoughts of the conflict I must expect + to have with him on my refusal. For see him for a few moments I doubt I + must, lest he should take some rash resolutions; especially as he has + reason to expect I will see him. But here your words, that all punctilio + is at an end the moment I am out of my father's house, added to the still + more cogent considerations of duty and reputation, determined me once more + against the rash step. And it will be very hard (although no seasonable + fainting, or wished-for fit, should stand my friend) if I cannot gain one + month, or fortnight, or week. And I have still more hopes that I shall + prevail for some delay, from my cousin's intimation that the good Dr. + Lewen refuses to give his assistance to their projects, if they have not + my consent, and thinks me cruelly used: since, without taking notice that + I am apprized of this, I can plead a scruple of conscience, and insist + upon having that worthy divine's opinion upon it: in which, enforced as I + shall enforce it, my mother will surely second me: my aunt Hervey, and + Mrs. Norton, will support her: the suspension must follow: and I can but + get away afterwards. + </p> + <p> + But, if they will compel me: if they will give me no time: if nobody will + be moved: if it be resolved that the ceremony should be read over my + constrained hand—why then—Alas! What then!—I can but—But + what? O my dear! this Solmes shall never have my vows I am resolved! and I + will say nothing but no, as long as I shall be able to speak. And who will + presume to look upon such an act of violence as a marriage?—It is + impossible, surely, that a father and mother can see such a dreadful + compulsion offered to their child—but if mine should withdraw, and + leave the task to my brother and sister, they will have no mercy. + </p> + <p> + I am grieved to be driven to have recourse to the following artifices. + </p> + <p> + I have given them a clue, by the feather of a pen sticking out, where they + will find such of my hidden stories, as I intend they shall find. + </p> + <p> + Two or three little essays I have left easy to be seen, of my own writing. + </p> + <p> + About a dozen lines also of a letter begun to you, in which I express my + hopes, (although I say that appearances are against me,) and that my + friends will relent. They know from your mother, by my uncle Antony, that, + some how or other, I now and then get a letter to you. In this piece of a + letter I declare renewedly my firm resolution to give up the man so + obnoxious to my family, on their releasing me from the address of the + other. + </p> + <p> + Near the essays, I have left the copy of my letter to Lady Drayton;* which + affording arguments suitable to my case, may chance (thus accidentally to + be fallen upon) to incline them to favour me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Letters XIII. and XIV. +</pre> + <p> + I have reserves of pens and ink, you may believe; and one or two in the + ivy summer-house; with which I shall amuse myself, in order to lighten, if + possible, those apprehensions which more and more affect me, as Wednesday, + the day of trial, approaches. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE IVY SUMMER-HOUSE, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </h3> + <p> + He has not yet got my letter: and while I was contriving here how to send + my officious gaoleress from me, that I might have time for the intended + interview, and had hit upon an expedient, which I believe would have done, + came my aunt, and furnished me with a much better. She saw my little table + covered, preparative to my solitary dinner; and hoped, she told me, that + this would be the last day that my friends would be deprived of my company + at table. + </p> + <p> + You may believe, my dear, that the thoughts of meeting Mr. Lovelace, for + fear of being discovered, together with the contents of my cousin Dolly's + letter, gave me great and visible emotions. She took notice of them—Why + these sighs, why these heavings here? said she, patting my neck—O my + dear Niece, who would have thought so much natural sweetness could be so + very unpersuadable? + </p> + <p> + I could not answer her, and she proceeded—I am come, I doubt, upon a + very unwelcome errand. Some things have been told us yesterday, which came + from the mouth of one of the most desperate and insolent men in the world, + convince your father, and all of us, that you still find means to write + out of the house. Mr. Lovelace knows every thing that is done here; and + that as soon as done; and great mischief is apprehended from him, which + you are as much concerned as any body to prevent. Your mother has also + some apprehensions concerning yourself, which yet she hopes are + groundless; but, however, cannot be easy, if she would, unless (while you + remain here in the garden, or in this summer-house) you give her the + opportunity once more of looking into your closet, your cabinet and + drawers. It will be the better taken, if you give me cheerfully your keys. + I hope, my dear, you won't dispute it. Your desire of dining in this place + was the more readily complied with for the sake of such an opportunity. + </p> + <p> + I thought myself very lucky to be so well prepared by my cousin Dolly's + means for this search: but yet I artfully made some scruples, and not a + few complaints of this treatment: after which, I not only gave her the + keys of all, but even officiously emptied my pockets before her, and + invited her to put her fingers in my stays, that she might be sure I had + no papers there. + </p> + <p> + This highly obliged her; and she said, she would represent my cheerful + compliance as it deserved, let my brother and sister say what they would. + My mother in particular, she was sure, would rejoice at the opportunity + given her to obviate, as she doubted not would be the case, some + suspicions that were raised against me. + </p> + <p> + She then hinted, That there were methods taken to come at all Mr. + Lovelace's secrets, and even, from his careless communicativeness, at some + secret of mine; it being, she said, his custom, boastingly to prate to his + very servants of his intentions, in particular cases. She added, that deep + as he was thought to be, my brother was as deep as he, and fairly too hard + for him at his own weapons—as one day it would be found. + </p> + <p> + I knew not, I said, the meaning of these dark hints. I thought the cunning + she hinted at, on both sides, called rather for contempt than applause. I + myself might have been put upon artifices which my heart disdained to + practise, had I given way to the resentment, which, I was bold to say, was + much more justifiable than the actions that occasioned it: that it was + evident to me, from what she had said, that their present suspicions of me + were partly owing to this supposed superior cunning of my brother, and + partly to the consciousness that the usage I met with might naturally + produce a reason for such suspicions: that it was very unhappy for me to + be made the butt of my brother's wit: that it would have been more to his + praise to have aimed at shewing a kind heart than a cunning head: that, + nevertheless, I wished he knew himself as well as I imagined I knew him; + and he would then have less conceit of his abilities: which abilities + would, in my opinion, be less thought of, if his power to do ill offices + were not much greater than they. + </p> + <p> + I was vexed. I could not help making this reflection. The dupe the other, + too probably, makes of him, through his own spy, deserved it. But I so + little approve of this low art in either, that were I but tolerably used, + the vileness of that man, that Joseph Leman, should be inquired into. + </p> + <p> + She was sorry, she said, to find that I thought so disparagingly of my + brother. He was a young man both of learning and parts. + </p> + <p> + Learning enough, I said, to make him vain of it among us women: but not of + parts sufficient to make his learning valuable either to himself or to any + body else. + </p> + <p> + She wished, indeed, that he had more good nature: but she feared that I + had too great an opinion of somebody else, to think so well of my brother + as a sister ought: since, between the two, there was a sort of rivalry, as + to abilities, that made them hate one another. + </p> + <p> + Rivalry! Madam, said I.—If that be the case, or whether it be or + not, I wish they both understood, better than either of them seem to do, + what it becomes gentlemen, and men of liberal education, to be, and to do.—Neither + of them, then, would glory in what they ought to be ashamed of. + </p> + <p> + But waving this subject, it was not impossible, I said, that they might + find a little of my writing, and a pen or two, and a little ink, [hated + art!—or rather, hateful the necessity for it!] as I was not + permitted to go up to put them out of the way: but if they did, I must be + contented. And I assured her, that, take what time they pleased, I would + not go in to disturb them, but would be either in or near the garden, in + this summer-house, or in the cedar one, or about my poultry-yard, or near + the great cascade, till I was ordered to return to my prison. With like + cunning I said, I supposed the unkind search would not be made till the + servants had dined; because I doubted not that the pert Betty Barnes, who + knew all the corners of my apartment and closet, would be employed in it. + </p> + <p> + She hoped, she said, that nothing could be found that would give a handle + against me: for, she would assure me, the motives to the search, on my + mother's part especially, were, that she hoped to find reason rather to + acquit than to blame me; and that my father might be induced to see my + to-morrow night, or Wednesday morning, with temper: with tenderness, I + should rather say, said she; for he is resolved to do so, if no new + offence be given. + </p> + <p> + Ah! Madam, said I— + </p> + <p> + Why that Ah! Madam, and shaking your head so significantly? + </p> + <p> + I wish, Madam, that I may not have more reason to dread my father's + continued displeasure, than to hope for his returning tenderness. + </p> + <p> + You don't know, my dear!—Things may take a turn—things may not + be so bad as you fear— + </p> + <p> + Dearest Madam, have you any consolation to give me?— + </p> + <p> + Why, my dear, it is possible, that you may be more compliable than you + have been. + </p> + <p> + Why raised you my hopes, Madam?—Don't let me think my dear aunt + Hervey cruel to a niece who truly honours her. + </p> + <p> + I may tell you more perhaps, said she (but in confidence, absolute + confidence) if the inquiry within came out in your favour. Do you know of + any thin above that can be found to your disadvantage?— + </p> + <p> + Some papers they will find, I doubt: but I must take consequences. My + brother and sister will be at hand with their good-natured constructions. + I am made desperate, and care not what is found. + </p> + <p> + I hope, I earnestly hope, that nothing can be found that will impeach your + discretion; and then—but I may say too much— + </p> + <p> + And away she went, having added to my perplexity. + </p> + <p> + But I now can think of nothing but this interview.—Would to Heaven + it were over!—To meet to quarrel—but, let him take what + measures he will, I will not stay a moment with him, if he be not quite + calm and resigned. + </p> + <p> + Don't you see how crooked some of my lines are? Don't you see how some of + the letters stagger more than others?—That is when this interview is + more in my head than in my subject. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, should I, ought I to meet him? How have I taken it for + granted that I should!—I wish there were time to take your advice. + Yet you are so loth to speak quite out—but that I owe, as you own, + to the difficulty of my situation. + </p> + <p> + I should have mentioned, that in the course of this conversation I + besought my aunt to stand my friend, and to put in a word for me on my + approaching trial; and to endeavour to procure me time for consideration, + if I could obtain nothing else. + </p> + <p> + She told me, that, after the ceremony was performed [odious confirmation + of a hint in my cousin Dolly's letter!] I should have what time I pleased + to reconcile myself to my lot before cohabitation. + </p> + <p> + This put me out of all patience. + </p> + <p> + She requested of me in her turn, she said, that I would resolve to meet + them all with cheerful duty, and with a spirit of absolute acquiescence. + It was in my power to make them all happy. And how joyful would it be to + her, she said, to see my father, my mother, my uncles, my brother, my + sister, all embracing me with raptures, and folding me in turns to their + fond hearts, and congratulating each other on their restored happiness! + Her own joy, she said, would probably make her motionless and speechless + for a time: and for her Dolly—the poor girl, who had suffered in the + esteem of some, for her grateful attachment to me, would have every body + love her again. + </p> + <p> + Will you doubt, my dear, that my next trial will be the most affecting + that I have yet had? + </p> + <p> + My aunt set forth all this in so strong a light, and I was so particularly + touched on my cousin Dolly's account, that, impatient as I was just + before, I was greatly moved: yet could only shew, by my sighs and my + tears, how desirable such an event would be to me, could it be brought + about upon conditions with which it was possible for me to comply. + </p> + <p> + Here comes Betty Barnes with my dinner— + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The wench is gone. The time of meeting is at hand. O that he may not come!—But + should I, or should I not, meet him?—How I question, without + possibility of a timely answer! + </p> + <p> + Betty, according to my leading hint to my aunt, boasted to me, that she + was to be employed, as she called it, after she had eat her own dinner. + </p> + <p> + She should be sorry, she told me, to have me found out. Yet 'twould be all + for my good. I should have it in my power to be forgiven for all at once, + before Wednesday night. The confident creature then, to stifle a laugh, + put a corner of her apron in her mouth, and went to the door: and on her + return to take away, as I angrily bid her, she begged my excuse—but—but—and + then the saucy creature laughed again, she could not help it, to think how + I had drawn myself in by my summer-house dinnering, since it had given so + fine an opportunity, by way of surprise, to look into all my private + hoards. She thought something was in the wind, when my brother came into + my dining here so readily. Her young master was too hard for every body. + 'Squire Lovelace himself was nothing at all at a quick thought to her + young master. + </p> + <p> + My aunt mentioned Mr. Lovelace's boasting behaviour to his servants: + perhaps he may be so mean. But as to my brother, he always took a pride in + making himself appear to be a man of parts and learning to our own + servants. Pride and meanness, I have often thought, are as nearly allied, + and as close borderers upon each other, as the poet tells us wit and + madness are. + </p> + <p> + But why do I trouble you (and myself, at such a crisis) with these + impertinences?—Yet I would forget, if I could, the nearest evil, the + interview; because, my apprehensions increasing as the hour is at hand, I + should, were my intentions to be engrossed by them, be unfit to see him, + if he does come: and then he will have too much advantage over me, as he + will have seeming reason to reproach me with change of resolution. + </p> + <p> + The upbraider, you know, my dear, is in some sense a superior; while the + upbraided, if with reason upbraided, must make a figure as spiritless as + conscious. + </p> + <p> + I know that this wretch will, if he can, be his own judge, and mine too. + But the latter he shall not be. + </p> + <p> + I dare say, we shall be all to pieces. But I don't care for that. It would + be hard, if I, who have held it out so sturdily to my father and uncles, + should not—but he is at the garden-door— + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I was mistaken!—How many noises unlike, be made like to what one + fears!—Why flutters the fool so—! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I will hasten to deposit this. Then I will, for the last time, go to the + usual place, in hopes to find that he has got my letter. If he has, I will + not meet him. If he has not, I will take it back, and shew him what I have + written. That will break the ice, as I may say, and save me much + circumlocution and reasoning: and a steady adherence to that my written + mind is all that will be necessary.—The interview must be as short + as possible; for should it be discovered, it would furnish a new and + strong pretence for the intended evil of Wednesday next. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I shall not be able to write again one while. Perhaps not till I + am the miserable property of that Solmes!—But that shall never, + never be, while I have my senses. + </p> + <p> + If your servant find nothing from me by Wednesday morning, you may then + conclude that I can neither write to you, nor receive your favours. + </p> + <p> + In that case, pity and pray for me, my beloved friend; and continue to me + that place in your affection, which is the pride of my life, and the only + comfort left to + </p> + <p> + Your CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVIII + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE ST. ALBAN'S, TUESDAY MORN. PAST ONE. + </h3> + <p> + O MY DEAREST FRIEND! + </p> + <p> + After what I had resolved upon, as by my former, what shall I write? what + can I? with what consciousness, even by letter, do I approach you?—You + will soon hear (if already you have not heard from the mouth of common + fame) that your Clarissa Harlowe is gone off with a man! + </p> + <p> + I am busying myself to give you the particulars at large. The whole + twenty-four hours of each day (to begin at the moment I can fix) shall be + employed in it till it is finished: every one of the hours, I mean, that + will be spared me by this interrupting man, to whom I have made myself so + foolishly accountable for too many of them. Rest is departed from me. I + have no call for that: and that has no balm for the wounds of my mind. So + you'll have all those hours without interruption till the account is + ended. + </p> + <p> + But will you receive, shall you be permitted to receive my letters, after + what I have done? + </p> + <p> + O my dearest friend!—But I must make the best of it. + </p> + <p> + I hope that will not be very bad! yet am I convinced that I did a rash and + inexcusable thing in meeting him; and all his tenderness, all his vows, + cannot pacify my inward reproaches on that account. + </p> + <p> + The bearer comes to you, my dear, for the little parcel of linen which I + sent you with far better and more agreeable hopes. + </p> + <p> + Send not my letters. Send the linen only: except you will favour me with + one line, to tell me you love me still; and that you will suspend your + censures till you have the whole before you. I am the readier to send thus + early, because if you have deposited any thing for me, you may cause it to + be taken back, or withhold any thing you had but intended to send. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest friend!—I beseech you to love me still—But + alas! what will your mother say?—what will mine?—what my other + relations?—and what my dear Mrs. Norton?—and how will my + brother and sister triumph! + </p> + <p> + I cannot at present tell you how, or where, you can direct to me. For very + early shall I leave this place; harassed and fatigued to death. But, when + I can do nothing else, constant use has made me able to write. Long, very + long, has been all my amusement and pleasure: yet could not that have been + such to me, had I not had you, my best beloved friend, to write to. Once + more adieu. Pity and pray for + </p> + <p> + Your CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + END OF VOL. II <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9), by Samuel Richardson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARISSA, VOLUME 2 (OF 9) *** + +***** This file should be named 9798-h.htm or 9798-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/7/9/9798/ + +Produced by Julie C. Sparks, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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