Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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Why will these wise parents, by saying too much against the persons
they dislike, put one upon defending them? Lovelace is not a
spendthrift; owes not obligations to the world; though, I doubt not,
profligate enough. Then, putting one upon doing such but common
justice, we must needs be prepossessed, truly!--And so perhaps we are
put upon curiosities first, that is to say, how such a one or his
friends may think of one: and then, but too probably, comes in a
distinguishing preference, or something that looks exceedingly like
it.

My mother charged me at last, to write that side over again.--But
excuse me, my good Mamma! I would not have the character lost upon
any consideration; since my vein ran freely into it: and I never wrote
to please myself, but I pleased you. A very good reason why--we have
but one mind between us--only, that sometimes you are a little too
grave, methinks; I, no doubt, a little too flippant in your opinion.

This difference in our tempers, however, is probably the reason that
we love one another so well, that in the words of Norris, no third
love can come in betwixt. Since each, in the other's eye, having
something amiss, and each loving the other well enough to bear being
told of it (and the rather perhaps as neither wishes to mend it); this
takes off a good deal from that rivalry which might encourage a little
(if not a great deal) of that latent spleen, which in time might rise
into envy, and that into ill-will. So, my dear, if this be the case,
let each keep her fault, and much good may do her with it: and what an
hero or heroine must he or she be, who can conquer a constitutional
fault? Let it be avarice, as in some I dare not name: let it be
gravity, as in my best friend: or let it be flippancy, as in--I need
not say whom.

It is proper to acquaint you, that I was obliged to comply with my
mother's curiosity, [my mother has her share, her full share, of
curiosity, my dear,] and to let her see here-and-there some passages
in your letters--

I am broken in upon--but I will tell you by-and-by what passed between
my mother and me on this occasion--and the rather, as she had her
GIRL, her favourite HICKMAN, and your LOVELACE, all at once in her
eye, in her part of the conversation.

Thus it was.

'I cannot but think, Nancy, said she, after all, that there is a
little hardship in Miss Harlowe's case: and yet (as her mother says)
it is a grating thing to have a child, who was always noted for her
duty in smaller points, to stand in opposition to her parents' will in
the greater; yea, in the greatest of all. And now, to middle the
matter between both, it is pity, that the man they favour has not that
sort of merit which a person of a mind so delicate as that of Miss
Harlowe might reasonably expect in a husband.--But then, this man is
surely preferable to a libertine: to a libertine too, who has had a
duel with her own brother; fathers and mothers must think so, were it
not for that circumstance--and it is strange if they do not know
best.'

And so they must, thought I, from their experience, if no little dirty
views give them also that prepossession in one man's favour, which
they are so apt to censure their daughters for having in another's--
and if, as I may add in your case, they have no creeping, old, musty
uncle Antonys to strengthen their prepossessions, as he does my
mother's. Poor, creeping, positive soul, what has such an old
bachelor as he to do, to prate about the duties of children to
parents; unless he had a notion that parents owe some to their
children? But your mother, by her indolent meekness, let me call it,
has spoiled all the three brothers.

'But you see, child, proceeded my mother, what a different behaviour
MINE is to YOU. I recommend to you one of the soberest, yet politest,
men in England--'

I think little of my mother's politest, my dear. She judges of honest
Hickman for her daughter, as she would have done, I suppose, twenty
years ago, for herself.

'Of a good family, continued my mother; a fine, clear, and improving
estate [a prime consideration with my mother, as well as with some
other folks, whom you know]: and I beg and I pray you to encourage
him: at least not to use him the worse, for his being so obsequious to
you.'

Yes, indeed! To use him kindly, that he may treat me familiarly--but
distance to the men-wretches is best--I say.

'Yet all will hardly prevail upon you to do as I would have you. What
would you say, were I to treat you as Miss Harlowe's father and mother
treat her?

'What would I say, Madam!--That's easily answered. I would say
nothing. Can you think such usage, and to such a young lady, is to be
borne?

'Come, come, Nancy, be not so hasty: you have heard but one side; and
that there is more to be said is plain, by your reading to me but
parts of her letters. They are her parents. They must know best.
Miss Harlowe, as fine a child as she is, must have done something,
must have said something, (you know how they loved her,) to make them
treat her thus.

'But if she should be blameless, Madam, how does your own supposition
condemn them?'

Then came up Solmes's great estate; his good management of it--'A
little too NEAR indeed,' was the word!--[O how money-lovers, thought
I, will palliate! Yet my mother is a princess in spirit to this
Solmes!] 'What strange effects, added she, have prepossession and love
upon young ladies!'

I don't know how it is, my dear; but people take high delight in
finding out folks in love. Curiosity begets curiosity. I believe
that's the thing.

She proceeded to praise Mr. Lovelace's person, and his qualifications
natural and acquired. But then she would judge as mothers will judge,
and as daughters are very loth to judge: but could say nothing in answer
to your offer of living single; and breaking with him--if--if--
[three or four if's she made of one good one, if] that could be
depended on.

But still obedience without reserve, reason what I will, is the burden
of my mother's song: and this, for my sake, as well as for yours.

I must needs say, that I think duty to parents is a very meritorious
excellence. But I bless God I have not your trials. We can all be
good when we have no temptation nor provocation to the contrary: but
few young persons (who can help themselves too as you can) would bear
what you bear.

I will now mention all that is upon my mind, in relation to the
behaviour of your father and uncles, and the rest of them, because I
would not offend you: but I have now a higher opinion of my own
sagacity, than ever I had, in that I could never cordially love any
one of your family but yourself. I am not born to like them. But it
is my duty to be sincere to my friend: and this will excuse her Anna
Howe to Miss Clarissa Harlowe.

I ought indeed to have excepted your mother; a lady to be reverenced:
and now to be pitied. What must have been her treatment, to be thus
subjugated, as I may call it? Little did the good old viscount think,
when he married his darling, his only daughter, to so well-appearing a
gentleman, and to her own liking too, that she would have been so much
kept down. Another would call your father a tyrant, if I must not:
all the world that know him, do call him so; and if you love your
mother, you should not be very angry at the world for taking that
liberty.

Yet, after all, I cannot help thinking, that she is the less to be
pitied, as she may be said (be the gout, or what will, the occasion of
his moroseness) to have long behaved unworthy of her birth and fine
qualities, in yielding so much as she yields to encroaching spirits
[you may confine the reflection to your brother, if it will pain you
to extend it]; and this for the sake of preserving a temporary peace
to herself; which was the less worth endeavouring to preserve, as it
always produced a strength in the will of others, which subjected her
to an arbitrariness that of course grew, and became established, upon
her patience.--And now to give up the most deserving of her children
(against her judgment) a sacrifice to the ambition and selfishness of
the least deserving!--But I fly from this subject--having I fear, said
too much to be forgiven--and yet much less than is in my heart to say
upon the over-meek subject.

Mr. Hickman is expected from London this evening. I have desired him
to inquire after Lovelace's life and conversation in town. If he has
not inquired, I shall be very angry with him. Don't expect a very
good account of either. He is certainly an intriguing wretch, and
full of inventions.

Upon my word, I most heartily despise that sex! I wish they would let
our fathers and mothers alone; teasing them to tease us with their
golden promises, and protestations and settlements, and the rest of
their ostentatious nonsense. How charmingly might you and I live
together, and despise them all!--But to be cajoled, wire-drawn, and
ensnared, like silly birds, into a state of bondage, or vile
subordination; to be courted as princesses for a few weeks, in order
to be treated as slaves for the rest of our lives. Indeed, my dear,
as you say of Solmes, I cannot endure them!--But for your relations
[friends no more will I call them, unworthy as they are even of the
other name!] to take such a wretch's price as that; and to the cutting
off of all reversions from his own family:--How must a mind but
commonly just resist such a measure!

Mr. Hickman shall sound Lord M. upon the subject you recommend. But
beforehand, I can tell you what he and what his sisters will say, when
they are sounded. Who would not be proud of such a relation as Miss
Clarissa Harlowe?--Mrs. Fortescue told me, that they are all your very
great admirers.

If I have not been clear enough in my advice about what you shall do,
let me say, that I can give it in one word: it is only by re-urging
you to RESUME. If you do, all the rest will follow.

We are told here, that Mrs. Norton, as well as your aunt Hervey, has
given her opinion on the implicit side of the question. If she can
think, that the part she has had in your education, and your own
admirable talents and acquirements, are to be thrown away upon such a
worthless creature as Solmes, I could heartily quarrel with her. You
may think I say this to lessen your regard for the good woman. And
perhaps not wholly without cause, if you do. For, to own the truth,
methinks, I don't love her so well as I should do, did you love her so
apparently less, that I could be out of doubt, that you love me
better.

Your mother tells you, 'That you will have great trials: that you are
under your father's discipline.'--The word is enough for me to despise
them who give occasion for its use.--'That it is out of her power to
help you!' And again: 'That if you have any favour to hope for, it
must be by the mediation of your uncles.' I suppose you will write to
the oddities, since you are forbid to see them. But can it be, that
such a lady, such a sister, such a wife, such a mother, has no
influence in her own family? Who, indeed, as you say, if this be so,
would marry, that can live single? My choler is again beginning to
rise. RESUME, my dear: and that is all I will give myself time to say
further, lest I offend you when I cannot serve you--only this, that I
am

Your truly affectionate friend and servant,
ANNA HOWE.

LETTER XXVIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY, MARCH 10.

You will permit me, my dear, to touch upon a few passages in your last
letter, that affect me sensibly.

In the first place, you must allow me to say, low as I am in spirits,
that I am very angry with you, for your reflections on my relations,
particularly on my father and mother, and on the memory of my
grandfather. Nor, my dear, does your own mother always escape the
keen edge of your vivacity. One cannot one's self forbear to write or
speak freely of those we love and honour, when grief from imagined
hard treatment wrings the heart: but it goes against one to hear any
body else take the same liberties. Then you have so very strong a
manner of expression where you take a distaste, that when passion has
subdued, and I come (upon reflection) to see by your severity what I
have given occasion for, I cannot help condemning myself.

But least of all can I bear that you should reflect upon my mother.
What, my dear, if her meekness should not be rewarded? Is the want of
reward, or the want even of a grateful acknowledgement, a reason for
us to dispense with what we think our duty? They were my father's
lively spirits that first made him an interest in her gentle bosom.
They were the same spirits turned inward, as I have heretofore
observed,* that made him so impatient when the cruel malady seized
him. He always loved my mother: And would not LOVE and PITY
excusably, nay laudably, make a good wife (who was an hourly witness
of his pangs, when labouring under a paroxysm, and his paroxysms
becoming more and more frequent, as well as more and more severe) give
up her own will, her own likings, to oblige a husband, thus afflicted,
whose love for her was unquestionable?--And if so, was it not too
natural [human nature is not perfect, my dear] that the husband thus
humoured by the wife, should be unable to bear controul from any body
else, much less contradiction from his children?

* See Letter V.

If then you would avoid my highest displeasure, you must spare my
mother: and, surely, you will allow me, with her, to pity, as well as
to love and honour my father.

I have no friend but you to whom I can appeal, to whom I dare
complain. Unhappily circumstanced as I am, it is but too probable
that I shall complain, because it is but too probably that I shall
have more and more cause given me for complaint. But be it your part,
if I do, to sooth my angry passions, and to soften my resentments; and
this the rather, as you know what an influence your advice has upon
me; and as you must also know, that the freedoms you take with my
friends, can have no other tendency, but to weaken the sense of my
duty to them, without answering any good end to myself.

I cannot help owning, however, that I am pleased to have you join with
me in opinion of the contempt which Mr. Solmes deserves from me. But
yet, permit me to say, that he is not quite so horrible a creature as
you make him: as to his person, I mean; for with regard to his mind,
by all I have heard, you have done him but justice: but you have such
a talent at an ugly likeness, and such a vivacity, that they sometimes
carry you out of verisimilitude. In short, my dear, I have known you,
in more instances than one, sit down resolved to write all that wit,
rather than strict justice, could suggest upon the given occasion.
Perhaps it may be thought, that I should say the less on this
particular subject, because your dislike of him arises from love to
me: But should it not be our aim to judge of ourselves, and of every
thing that affects us, as we may reasonably imagine other people would
judge of us and of our actions?

As to the advice you give, to resume my estate, I am determined not to
litigate with my father, let what will be the consequence to myself.
I may give you, at another time, a more particular answer to your
reasonings on this subject: but, at present, will only observe, that
it is in my opinion, that Lovelace himself would hardly think me worth
addressing, were he to know this would be my resolution. These men,
my dear, with all their flatteries, look forward to the PERMANENT.
Indeed, it is fit they should. For love must be a very foolish thing
to look back upon, when it has brought persons born to affluence into
indigence, and laid a generous mind under obligation and dependence.

You very ingeniously account for the love we bear to one another, from
the difference in our tempers. I own, I should not have thought of
that. There may possibly be something in it: but whether there be or
not, whenever I am cool, and give myself time to reflect, I will love
you the better for the correction you give, be as severe as you will
upon me. Spare me not, therefore, my dear friend, whenever you think
me in the least faulty. I love your agreeable raillery: you know I
always did: nor, however over-serious you think me, did I ever think
you flippant, as you harshly call it. One of the first conditions of
our mutual friendship was, each should say or write to the other
whatever was upon her mind, without any offence to be taken: a
condition, that is indeed indispensable in friendship.

I knew your mother would be for implicit obedience in a child. I am
sorry my case is so circumstanced, that I cannot comply. It would be
my duty to do so, if I could. You are indeed very happy, that you
have nothing but your own agreeable, yet whimsical, humours to contend
with, in the choice she invites you to make of Mr. Hickman. How happy
I should be, to be treated with so much lenity!--I should blush to
have my mother say, that she begged and prayed me, and all in vain, to
encourage a man so unexceptionable as Mr. Hickman.

Indeed, my beloved Miss Howe, I am ashamed to have your mother say,
with ME in her view, 'What strange effects have prepossession and love
upon young creatures of our sex!' This touches me the more sensibly,
because you yourself, my dear, are so ready to persuade me into it.

I should be very blamable to endeavour to hide any the least bias upon
my mind, from you: and I cannot but say--that this man--this Lovelace
--is a man that might be liked well enough, if he bore such a
character as Mr. Hickman bears; and even if there were hopes of
reclaiming him. And further still I will acknowledge, that I believe
it possible that one might be driven, by violent measures, step by
step, as it were, into something that might be called--I don't know
what to call it--a conditional kind of liking, or so. But as to the
word LOVE--justifiable and charming as it is in some cases, (that is
to say, in all the relative, in all the social, and, what is still
beyond both, in all our superior duties, in which it may be properly
called divine;) it has, methinks, in the narrow, circumscribed,
selfish, peculiar sense, in which you apply it to me, (the man too so
little to be approved of for his morals, if all that report says of
him be true,) no pretty sound with it. Treat me as freely as you will
in all other respects, I will love you, as I have said, the better for
your friendly freedom. But, methinks, I could be glad that you would
not let this imputation pass so glibly from your pen, or your lips, as
attributable to one of your own sex, whether I be the person or not:
since the other must have a double triumph, when a person of your
delicacy (armed with such contempts of them all, as you would have one
think) can give up a friend, with an exultation over her weakness, as
a silly, love-sick creature.

I could make some other observations upon the contents of your last
two letters; but my mind is not free enough at present. The occasion
for the above stuck with me; and I could not help taking the earliest
notice of them.

Having written to the end of my second sheet, I will close this
letter, and in my next, acquaint you with all that has happened here
since my last.

LETTER XXIX

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
SATURDAY, MARCH 11.

I have had such taunting messages, and such repeated avowals of ill
offices, brought me from my brother and sister, if I do no comply with
their wills, (delivered, too, with provoking sauciness by Betty
Barnes,) that I have thought it proper, before I entered upon my
intended address to my uncles, in pursuance of the hint given me in my
mother's letter, to expostulate a little with them. But I have done
it in such a manner, as will give you (if you please to take it as you
have done some parts of my former letters) great advantage over me.
In short, you will have more cause than ever, to declare me far gone
in love, if my reasons for the change of my style in these letters,
with regard to Mr. Lovelace, do not engage your more favourable
opinion.--For I have thought proper to give them their own way: and,
since they will have it, that I have a preferable regard for Mr.
Lovelace, I give them cause rather to confirm their opinion than doubt
it.

These are my reasons in brief, for the alteration of my style.

In the first place, they have grounded their principal argument for my
compliance with their will, upon my acknowledgement that my heart is
free; and so, supposing I give up no preferable person, my opposition
has the look of downright obstinacy in their eyes; and they argue,
that at worst, my aversion to Solmes is an aversion that may be easily
surmounted, and ought to be surmounted in duty to my father, and for
the promotion of family views.

Next, although they build upon this argument in order to silence me,
they seem not to believe me, but treat me as disgracefully, as if I
were in love with one of my father's footmen: so that my conditional
willingness to give up Mr. Lovelace has procured me no favour.

In the next place, I cannot but think, that my brother's antipathy to
Mr. Lovelace is far from being well grounded: the man's inordinate
passion for the sex is the crime that is always rung in my ears: and a
very great one it is: But, does my brother recriminate upon him thus
in love to me?--No--his whole behaviour shews me, that that is not his
principal motive, and that he thinks me rather in his way than
otherwise.

It is then the call of justice, as I may say, to speak a little in
favour of a man, who, although provoked by my brother, did not do him
all the mischief he could have done him, and which my brother had
endeavoured to do him. It might not be amiss therefore, I thought, to
alarm them a little with apprehension, that the methods they are
taking with me are the very reverse of those they should take to
answer the end they design by them. And after all, what is the
compliment I make Mr. Lovelace, if I allow it to be thought that I do
really prefer him to such a man as him they terrify me with? Then, my
Miss Howe [concluded I] accuses me of a tameness which subject me to
insults from my brother: I will keep that dear friend in my eye; and
for all these considerations, try what a little of her spirit will do
--sit it ever so awkwardly upon me.

In this way of thinking, I wrote to my brother and sister. This is my
letter to him.

TREATED as I am, and, in a great measure, if not wholly, by your
instigations, Brother, you must permit me to expostulate with you upon
the occasion. It is not my intention to displease you in what I am
going to write: and yet I must deal freely with you: the occasion
calls for it.

And permit me, in the first place, to remind you, that I am your
sister; and not your servant; and that, therefore, the bitter
revilings and passionate language brought me from you, upon an
occasion in which you have no reason to prescribe to me, are neither
worthy of my character to bear, nor of yours to offer.

Put the case, that I were to marry the man you dislike: and that he
were not to make a polite or tender husband, Is that a reason for you
to be an unpolite and disobliging brother?--Why must you, Sir,
anticipate my misfortunes, were such a case to happen?--Let me tell
you plainly, that the man who could treat me as a wife, worse than you
of late have treated me as a sister, must be a barbarous man indeed.

Ask yourself, I pray you, Sir, if you would thus have treated your
sister Bella, had she thought fit to receive the addresses of the man
so much hated by you?--If not, let me caution you, my Brother, not to
take your measures by what you think will be borne, but rather by what
ought to be offered.

How would you take it, if you had a brother, who, in a like case, were
to act by you, as you do by me?--You cannot but remember what a
laconic answer you gave even to my father, who recommended to you Miss
Nelly D'Oily--You did not like her, were your words: and that was
thought sufficient.

You must needs think, that I cannot but know to whom to attribute my
disgraces, when I recollect my father's indulgence to me, permitting
me to decline several offers; and to whom, that a common cause is
endeavoured to be made, in favour of a man whose person and manners
are more exceptional than those of any of the gentlemen I have been
permitted to refuse.

I offer not to compare the two men together: nor is there indeed the
least comparison to be made between them. All the difference to the
one's disadvantage, if I did, is but one point--of the greatest
importance, indeed--But to whom of most importance?--To myself,
surely, were I to encourage his application: of the least to you.
Nevertheless, if you do not, by your strange politics, unite that man
and me as joint sufferers in one cause, you shall find me as much
resolved to renounce him, as I am to refuse the other. I have made an
overture to this purpose: I hope you will not give me reason to
confirm my apprehensions, that it will be owing to you if it be not
accepted.

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