Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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Such a man, as this, love!--Yes, perhaps he may, my grandfather's
estate; which he has told several persons (and could not resist
hinting the same thing tome, with that sort of pleasure which a low
mind takes, when it intimates its own interest as a sufficient motive
for it to expect another's favour) lies so extremely convenient for
him, that it would double the value of a considerable part of his own.
That estate, and an alliance which would do credit to his obscurity
and narrowness, they make him think he can love, and induce him to
believe he does: but at most, he is but a second-place love. Riches
were, are, and always will be, his predominant passion. His were left
him by a miser, on this very account: and I must be obliged to forego
all the choice delights of my life, and be as mean as he, or else be
quite unhappy. Pardon, Sir, this severity of expression--one is apt
to say more than one would of a person one dislikes, when more is said
in his favour than he can possibly deserve; and when he is urged to my
acceptance with so much vehemence, that there is no choice left me.

Whether these things be perfectly so, or not, while I think they are,
it is impossible I should ever look upon Mr. Solmes in the light he is
offered to me. Nay, were he to be proved ten times better than I have
represented him, and sincerely think him; yet would he be still ten
times more disagreeable to me than any other man I know in the world.
Let me therefore beseech you, Sir, to become an advocate for your
niece, that she may not be made a victim to a man so highly disgustful
to her.

You and my other uncle can do a great deal for me, if you please, with
my papa. Be persuaded, Sir, that I am not governed by obstinacy in
this case; but by aversion; an aversion I cannot overcome: for, if I
have but endeavoured to reason with myself, (out of regard to the duty
I owe to my father's will,) my heart has recoiled, and I have been
averse to myself, for offering but to argue with myself, in behalf of
a man who, in the light he appears to me, has no one merit; and who,
knowing this aversion, could not persevere as he does, if he had the
spirit of a man.

If, Sir, you can think of the contents of this letter reasonable, I
beseech you to support them with your interest. If not--I shall be
most unhappy!--Nevertheless, it is but just in me so to write, as that
Mr. Solmes may know what he has to trust to.

Forgive, dear Sir, this tedious letter; and suffer it to have weight
with you; and you will for ever oblige

Your dutiful and affectionate niece,

CL. HARLOWE.

***

MR. ANTONY HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE

NIECE CLARY,

You had better not write to us, or to any of us. To me, particularly,
you had better never to have set pen to paper, on the subject whereon
you have written. He that is first in his own cause, saith the wise
man, seemeth just: but his neighbour cometh and searcheth him. And
so, in this respect, I will be your neighbour: for I will search your
heart to the bottom; that is to say, if your letter be written from
your heart. Yet do I know what a task I have undertaken, because of
the knack you are noted for at writing. But in defence of a father's
authority, in behalf of the good, and honour, and prosperity of the
family one comes of, what a hard thing it would be, if one could not
beat down all the arguments a rebel child (how loth I am to write down
that word of Miss Clary Harlowe!) can bring, in behalf of her
obstinacy!

In the first place, don't you declare (and that contrary to your
declarations to your mother, remember that, girl!) that you prefer the
man we all hate, and who hates us as bad!--Then what a character have
you given of a worthy man! I wonder you dare write so freely of one
we all respect--but possibly it may be for that very reason.

How you begin your letter!--Because I value Mr. Solmes as my friend,
you treat him the worse--That's the plain dunstable of the matter,
Miss!--I am not such a fool but I can see that.--And so a noted
whoremonger is to be chosen before a man who is a money-lover!--Let me
tell you, Niece, this little becomes so nice a one as you have been
always reckoned. Who, think you, does more injustice, a prodigal man
or a saving man?--The one saves his own money; the other spends other
people's. But your favourite is a sinner in grain, and upon record.

The devil's in your sex! God forgive me for saying so--the nicest of
them will prefer a vile rake and wh--I suppose I must not repeat the
word:--the word will offend, when the vicious denominated by that word
will be chosen!--I had not been a bachelor to this time, if I had not
seen such a mass of contradictions in you all.--Such gnat-strainers
and camel-swallowers, as venerable Holy Writ has it.

What names will perverseness call things by!--A prudent man, who
intends to be just to every body, is a covetous man!--While a vile,
profligate rake is christened with the appellation of a gallant man;
and a polite man, I'll warrant you!

It is my firm opinion, Lovelace would not have so much regard for you
as he professes, but for two reasons. And what are these?--Why, out
of spite to all of us--one of them. The other, because of your
independent fortune. I wish your good grandfather had not left what
he did so much in your own power, as I may say. But little did he
imagine his beloved grand-daughter would have turned upon all her
friends as she has done!

What has Mr. Solmes to hope for, if you are prepossessed! Hey-day!
Is this you, cousin Clary!--Has he then nothing to hope for from your
father's, and mother's, and our recommendations?--No, nothing at all,
it seems!--O brave!--I should think that this, with a dutiful child,
as we took you to be, was enough. Depending on this your duty, we
proceeded: and now there is no help for it: for we will not be balked:
neither shall our friend Mr. Solmes, I can tell you that.

If your estate is convenient for him, what then? Does that (pert
cousin) make it out that he does not love you? He had need to expect
some good with you, that has so little good to hope for from you; mind
that. But pray, is not this estate our estate, as we may say? Have
we not all an interest in it, and a prior right, if right were to have
taken place? And was it not more than a good old man's dotage, God
rest his soul! that gave it you before us all?--Well then, ought we
not to have a choice who shall have it in marriage with you? and would
you have the conscience to wish us to let a vile fellow, who hates us
all, run away with it?--You bid me weigh what you write: do you weigh
this, Girl: and it will appear we have more to say for ourselves than
you was aware of.

As to your hard treatment, as you call it, thank yourself for that.
It may be over when you will: so I reckon nothing upon that. You was
not banished and confined till all entreaty and fair speeches were
tried with you: mind that. And Mr. Solmes can't help your obstinacy:
let that be observed too.

As to being visited, and visiting; you never was fond of either: so
that's a grievance put into the scale to make weight.--As to disgrace,
that's as bad to us as to you: so fine a young creature! So much as
we used to brag of you too!--And besides, this is all in your power,
as the rest.

But your heart recoils, when you would persuade yourself to obey your
parent--Finely described, is it not!--Too truly described, I own, as
you go on. I know that you may love him if you will. I had a good
mind to bid you hate him; then, perhaps, you would like him the
better: for I have always found a most horrid romantic perverseness in
your sex.--To do and to love what you should not, is meat, drink, and
vesture, to you all.

I am absolutely of your brother's mind, That reading and writing,
though not too much for the wits of you young girls, are too much for
your judgments.--You say, you may be conceited, Cousin; you may be
vain!--And so you are, to despise this gentleman as you do. He can
read and write as well as most gentlemen, I can tell you that. Who
told you Mr. Solmes cannot read and write? But you must have a
husband who can learn you something!--I wish you knew but your duty as
well as you do your talents--that, Niece, you have of late days to
learn; and Mr. Solmes will therefore find something to instruct you
in. I will not shew him this letter of yours, though you seem to
desire it, lest it should provoke him to be too severe a schoolmaster,
when you are his'n.

But now I think of it, suppose you are the reader at your pen than he
--You will make the more useful wife to him; won't you? For who so
good an economist as you?--And you may keep all of his accounts, and
save yourselves a steward.--And, let me tell you, this is a fine
advantage in a family: for those stewards are often sad dogs, and
creep into a man's estate before he knows where he is; and not seldom
is he forced to pay them interest for his own money.

I know not why a good wife should be above these things. It is better
than lying a-bed half the day, and junketing and card-playing all the
night, and making yourselves wholly useless to every good purpose in
your own families, as is now the fashion among ye. The duce take you
all that do so, say I!--Only that, thank my stars, I am a bachelor.

Then this is a province you are admirably versed in: you grieve that
it is taken from you here, you know. So here, Miss, with Mr. Solmes
you will have something to keep account of, for the sake of you and
your children: with the other, perhaps you will have an account to
keep, too--but an account of what will go over the left shoulder; only
of what he squanders, what he borrows, and what he owes, and never
will pay. Come, come, Cousin, you know nothing of the world; a man's
a man; and you may have many partners in a handsome man, and costly
ones too, who may lavish away all you save. Mr. Solmes therefore for
my money, and I hope for yours.

But Mr. Solmes is a coarse man. He is not delicate enough for your
niceness; because I suppose he dresses not like a fop and a coxcomb,
and because he lays not himself out in complimental nonsense, the
poison of female minds. He is a man of sense, that I can tell you.
No man talks more to the purpose to us: but you fly him so, that he
has no opportunity given him, to express it to you: and a man who
loves, if he have ever so much sense, looks a fool; especially when he
is despised, and treated as you treated him the last time he was in
your company.

As to his sister; she threw herself away (as you want to do) against
his full warning: for he told her what she had to trust to, if she
married where she did marry. And he was as good as his word; and so
an honest man ought: offences against warning ought to be smarted for.
Take care this be not your case: mind that.

His uncle deserves no favour from him; for he would have circumvented
Mr. Solmes, and got Sir Oliver to leave to himself the estate he had
always designed for him his nephew, and brought him up in the hope of
it. Too ready forgiveness does but encourage offences: that's your
good father's maxim: and there would not be so many headstrong
daughters as there are, if this maxim were kept in mind.--Punishments
are of service to offenders; rewards should be only to the meriting:
and I think the former are to be dealt out rigourously, in willful
cases.

As to his love; he shews it but too much for your deservings, as they
have been of late; let me tell you that: and this is his misfortune;
and may in time perhaps be yours.

As to his parsimony, which you wickedly call diabolical, [a very free
word in your mouth, let me tell ye], little reason have you of all
people for this, on whom he proposes, of his own accord, to settle all
he has in the world: a proof, let him love riches as he will, that he
loves you better. But that you may be without excuse on this score,
we will tie him up to your own terms, and oblige him by the marriage-
articles to allow you a very handsome quarterly sum to do what you
please with. And this has been told you before; and I have said it to
Mrs. Howe (that good and worthy lady) before her proud daughter, that
you might hear of it again.

To contradict the charge of prepossession to Lovelace, you offer never
to have him without our consents: and what is this saying, but that
you will hope on for our consents, and to wheedle and tire us out?
Then he will always be in expectation while you are single: and we are
to live on at this rate (are we?) vexed by you, and continually
watchful about you; and as continually exposed to his insolence and
threats. Remember last Sunday, Girl!--What might have happened, had
your brother and he met?--Moreover, you cannot do with such a spirit
as his, as you can with worthy Mr. Solmes: the one you make tremble;
the other will make you quake: mind that--and you will not be able to
help yourself. And remember, that if there should be any
misunderstanding between one of them and you, we should all interpose;
and with effect, no doubt: but with the other, it would be self-do,
self-have; and who would either care or dare to put in a word for you?
Nor let the supposition of matrimonial differences frighten you:
honey-moon lasts not now-a-days above a fortnight; and Dunmow flitch,
as I have been informed, was never claimed; though some say once it
was. Marriage is a queer state, Child, whether paired by the parties
or by their friends. Out of three brothers of us, you know, there was
but one had courage to marry. And why was it, do you think? We were
wise by other people's experience.

Don't despise money so much: you may come to know the value of it:
that is a piece of instruction that you are to learn; and which,
according to your own notions, Mr. Solmes will be able to teach you.

I do indeed condemn your warmth. I will not allow for disgraces you
bring upon yourself. If I thought them unmerited, I would be your
advocate. But it was always my notion, that children should not
dispute their parents' authority. When your grandfather left his
estate to you, though his three sons, and a grandson, and your elder
sister, were in being, we all acquiesced: and why? Because it was our
father's doing. Do you imitate that example: if you will not, those
who set it you have the more reason to hold you inexcusable: mind
that, Cousin.

You mention your brother too scornfully: and, in your letter to him,
are very disrespectful; and so indeed you are to your sister, in the
letter you wrote to her. Your brother, Madam, is your brother; and
third older than yourself, and a man: and pray be so good as not to
forget what is due to a brother, who (next to us three brothers) is
the head of the family, and on whom the name depends--as upon your
dutiful compliance laid down for the honour of the family you are come
of. And pray now let me ask you, If the honour of that will not be an
honour to you?--If you don't think so, the more unworthy you. You
shall see the plan, if you promise not to be prejudiced against it
right or wrong. If you are not besotted to that man, I am sure you
will like it. If you are, were Mr. Solmes an angel, it would signify
nothing: for the devil is love, and love is the devil, when it gets
into any of your heads. Many examples have I seen of that.

If there were no such man as Lovelace in the world, you would not have
Mr. Solmes.--You would not, Miss!--Very pretty, truly!--We see how
your spirit is embittered indeed.--Wonder not, since it is come to
your will not's, that those who have authority over you, say, You
shall have the other. And I am one: mind that. And if it behoves YOU
to speak out, Miss, it behoves US not to speak in. What's sauce for
the goose is sauce for the gander: take that in your thought too.

I humbly apprehend, that Mr. Solmes has the spirit of a man, and a
gentleman. I would admonish you therefore not to provoke it. He
pities you as much as he loves you. He says, he will convince you of
his love by deeds, since he is not permitted by you to express it by
words. And all his dependence is upon your generosity hereafter. We
hope he may depend upon that: we encourage him to think he may. And
this heartens him up. So that you may lay his constancy at your
parents' and your uncles' doors; and this will be another mark of your
duty, you know.

You must be sensible, that you reflect upon your parents, and all of
us, when you tell me you cannot in justice accept of the settlements
proposed to you. This reflection we should have wondered at from you
once; but now we don't.

There are many other very censurable passages in this free letter of
yours; but we must place them to the account of your embittered
spirit. I am glad you mentioned that word, because we should have
been at a loss what to have called it.--I should much rather
nevertheless have had reason to give it a better name.

I love you dearly still, Miss. I think you, though my niece, one of
the finest young gentlewomen I ever saw. But, upon my conscience, I
think you ought to obey your parents, and oblige me and my brother
John: for you know very well, that we have nothing but your good at
heart: consistently indeed with the good and honour of all of us.
What must we think of any one of it, who would not promote the good of
the whole? and who would set one part of it against another?--Which
God forbid, say I!--You see I am for the good of all. What shall I
get by it, let things go as they will? Do I want any thing of any
body for my own sake?--Does my brother John?--Well, then, Cousin
Clary, what would you be at, as I may say?

O but you can't love Mr. Solmes!--But, I say, you know not what you
can do. You encourage yourself in your dislike. You permit your
heart (little did I think it was such a froward one) to recoil. Take
it to task, Niece; drive it on as fast as it recoils, [we do so in all
our sea-fights, and land-fights too, by our sailors and soldiers, or
we should not conquer]; and we are all sure you will overcome it. And
why? Because you ought. So we think, whatever you think: and whose
thoughts are to be preferred? You may be wittier than we; but, if you
were wiser, we have lived some of us, let me tell you, to very little
purpose, thirty or forty years longer than you.

I have written as long a letter as yours. I may not write in so
lively, or so polite a style as my Niece: but I think I have all the
argument on my side: and you will vastly oblige me, if you will shew
me, by your compliance with all our desires, that you think so too.
If you do not, you must not expect an advocate, or even a friend, in
me, dearly as I love you. For then I shall be sorry to be called

Your uncle,
ANT. HARLOWE.

TUESDAY, TWO IN THE MORNING.
POSTSCRIPT.

You must send me no more letters: but a compliable one you may send.
But I need not have forbid you; for I am sure this, by fair argument,
is unanswerable--I know it is. I have written day and night, I may
say, ever since Sunday morning, only church-time, or the like of that:
but this is the last, I can tell you, from

ANT. H.

LETTER XXXIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
THURSDAY, MARCH 16.

Having met with such bad success in my application to my relations, I
have taken a step that will surprise you. It is no other than writing
a letter to Mr. Solmes himself. I sent it, and have his answer. He
had certainly help in it. For I have seen a letter of his, and
indifferently worded, as poorly spelt. Yet the superscription is of
his dictating, I dare say, for he is a formal wretch. With these, I
shall enclose one from my brother to me, on occasion of mine to Mr.
Solmes. I did think that it was possible to discourage the man from
proceeding; and if I could have done that, it would have answered all
my wishes. It was worth the trial. But you'll see nothing will do.
My brother has taken his measures too securely.

TO ROGER SOLMES, ESQ.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 15.

SIR,

You will wonder to receive a letter from me; and more still at the
uncommon subject of it. But the necessity of the case will justify
me, at least in my own apprehension; and I shall therefore make no
other apology for it.

When you first came acquainted with our family, you found the writer
of this one of the happiest creatures in the world; beloved by the
best and most indulgent of parents; and rejoicing in the kind favour
of two affectionate uncles, and in the esteem of every one.

But how is this scene now changed!--You was pleased to cast a
favourable eye upon me. You addressed yourself to my friends: your
proposals were approved of by them--approved of without consulting me;
as if my choice and happiness were of the least signification. Those
who had a right to all reasonable obedience from me, insisted upon it
without reserve. I had not the felicity to think as they did; almost
the first time my sentiments differed from theirs. I besought them to
indulge me in a point so important to my future happiness: but, alas,
in vain! And then (for I thought it was but honest) I told you my
mind; and even that my affections were engaged. But, to my
mortification and surprise, you persisted, and still persist.

The consequence of all is too grievous for me to repeat: you, who have
such free access to the rest of the family, know it too well--too well
you know it, either for the credit of your own generosity, or for my
reputation. I am used, on your account, as I never before was used,
and never before was thought to deserve to be used; and this was the
hard, the impossible, condition of their returning favour, that I must
prefer a man to all others, that of all others I cannot prefer.

Thus distressed, and made unhappy, and all to your sake, and through
your cruel perseverance, I write, Sir, to demand of you the peace of
mind you have robbed me of: to demand of you the love of so many dear
friends, of which you have deprived me; and, if you have the
generosity that should distinguish a man, and a gentleman, to adjure
you not to continue an address that has been attended with such cruel
effects to the creature you profess to esteem.

If you really value me, as my friends would make me believe, and as
you have declared you do, must it not be a mean and selfish value? A
value that can have no merit with the unhappy object of it, because it
is attended with effects so grievous to her? It must be for your own
sake only, not for mine. And even in this point you must be mistaken:
For, would a prudent man wish to marry one who has not a heart to
give? Who cannot esteem him? Who therefore must prove a bad wife!--
And how cruel would it be to make a poor creature a bad wife, whose
pride it would be to make a good one!

If I am capable of judging, our tempers and inclinations are vastly
different. Any other of my sex will make you happier than I can. The
treatment I meet with, and the obstinacy, as it is called, with which
I support myself under it, ought to convince you of this; were I not
able to give so good a reason for this my supposed perverseness, as
that I cannot consent to marry a man whom I cannot value.

But if, Sir, you have not so much generosity in your value for me, as
to desist for my own sake, let me conjure you, by the regard due to
yourself, and to your own future happiness, to discontinue your suit,
and place your affections on a worthier object: for why should you
make me miserable, and yourself not happy? By this means you will do
all that is now in your power to restore to me the affection of my
friends; and, if that can be, it will leave me in as happy a state as
you found me in. You need only to say, that you see there are no
HOPES, as you will perhaps complaisantly call it, of succeeding with
me [and indeed, Sir, there cannot be a greater truth]; and that you
will therefore no more think of me, but turn your thoughts another
way.

Your compliance with this request will lay me under the highest
obligation to your generosity, and make me ever

Your well-wisher, and humble servant,
CLARISSA HARLOWE.

TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE
These most humbly present.

DEAREST MISS,

Your letter has had a very contrary effect upon me, to what you seem
to have expected from it. It has doubly convinced me of the
excellency of your mind, and of the honour of your disposition. Call
it selfish, or what you please, I must persist in my suit; and happy
shall I be, if by patience and perseverance, and a steady and
unalterable devoir, I may at last overcome the difficulty laid in my
way.

As your good parents, your uncles, and other friends, are absolutely
determined you shall never have Mr. Lovelace, if they can help it; and
as I presume no other person is in the way, I will contentedly wait
the issue of this matter. And forgive me, dearest Miss, but a person
should sooner persuade me to give up to him my estate, as an instance
of my generosity, because he could not be happy without it, than I
would a much more valuable treasure, to promote the felicity of
another, and make his way easier to circumvent myself.

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