Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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But this is a point you will not permit me to expatiate upon: pardon
me therefore, and I have done.--Yet, why should I say, pardon me? when
your concerns are my concerns? when your honour is my honour? when I
love you, as never woman loved another? and when you have allowed of
that concern and of that love; and have for years, which in persons so
young may be called many, ranked in the first class of your friends,

Your ever grateful and affectionate,
ANNA HOWE?

Will you oblige me with a copy of the preamble to the clauses in your
grandfather's will in your favour; and allow me to send it to my aunt
Harman?--She is very desirous to see it. Yet your character has so
charmed her, that, though a stranger to you personally, she assents to
the preference given you in that will, before she knows the testator's
reasons for giving you that preference.

LETTER II

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
HARLOWE-PLACE, JAN. 13.

How you oppress me, my dearest friend, with your politeness! I cannot
doubt your sincerity; but you should take care, that you give me not
reason from your kind partiality to call in question your judgment.
You do not distinguish that I take many admirable hints from you, and
have the art to pass them upon you for my own: for in all you do, in
all you say, nay, in your very looks (so animated!) you give lessons
to one who loves you and observes you as I love you and observe you,
without knowing that you do--So pray, my dear, be more sparing of your
praise for the future, lest after this confession we should suspect
that you secretly intend to praise yourself, while you would be
thought only to commend another.

Our family has indeed been strangely discomposed.--Discomposed!--It
has been in tumults, ever since the unhappy transaction; and I have
borne all the blame; yet should have had too much concern from myself,
had I been more justly spared by every one else.

For, whether it be owing to a faulty impatience, having been too
indulgently treated to be inured to blame, or to the regret I have to
hear those censured on my account, whom it is my duty to vindicate; I
have sometimes wished, that it had pleased God to have taken me in my
last fever, when I had every body's love and good opinion; but oftener
that I had never been distinguished by my grandfather as I was: since
that distinction has estranged from me my brother's and sister's
affections; at least, has raised a jealousy with regard to the
apprehended favour of my two uncles, that now-and-then overshadows
their love.

My brother being happily recovered of his fever, and his wound in a
hopeful way, although he has not yet ventured abroad, I will be as
particular as you desire in the little history you demand of me. But
heaven forbid that any thing should ever happen which may require it
to be produced for the purpose you mention!

I will begin, as you command, with Mr. Lovelace's address to my
sister; and be as brief as possible. I will recite facts only; and
leave you to judge of the truth of the report raised, that the younger
sister has robbed the elder.

It was in pursuance of a conference between Lord M. and my uncle
Antony, that Mr. Lovelace [my father and mother not forbidding] paid
his respect to my sister Arabella. My brother was then in Scotland,
busying himself in viewing the condition of the considerable estate
which was left him there by his generous godmother, together with one
as considerable in Yorkshire. I was also absent at my Dairy-house, as
it is called,* busied in the accounts relating to the estate which my
grandfather had the goodness to devise to me; and which once a year
was left to my inspection, although I have given the whole into my
father's power.

* Her grandfather, in order to invite her to him as often as her other
friends would spare her, indulged her in erecting and fitting up a
diary-house in her own taste. When finished, it was so much admired
for its elegant simplicity and convenience, that the whole seat
(before, of old time, from its situation, called The Grove) was
generally known by the name of The Dairy-house. Her grandfather in
particular was fond of having it so called.

My sister made me a visit there the day after Mr. Lovelace had been
introduced; and seemed highly pleased with the gentleman. His birth,
his fortune in possession, a clear 2000L. a year, as Lord M. had
assured my uncle; presumptive heir to that nobleman's large estate:
his great expectations from Lady Sarah Sadleir and Lady Betty
Lawrence; who with his uncle interested themselves very warmly (he
being the last of his line) to see him married.

'So handsome a man!--O her beloved Clary!' (for then she was ready to
love me dearly, from the overflowings of her good humour on his
account!) 'He was but too handsome a man for her!--Were she but as
amiable as somebody, there would be a probability of holding his
affections!--For he was wild, she heard; very wild, very gay; loved
intrigue--but he was young; a man of sense: would see his error, could
she but have patience with his faults, if his faults were not cured by
marriage!'

Thus she ran on; and then wanted me 'to see the charming man,' as she
called him.--Again concerned, 'that she was not handsome enough for
him;' with, 'a sad thing, that the man should have the advantage of
the woman in that particular!'--But then, stepping to the glass, she
complimented herself, 'That she was very well: that there were many
women deemed passable who were inferior to herself: that she was
always thought comely; and comeliness, let her tell me, having not so
much to lose as beauty had, would hold, when that would evaporate or
fly off:--nay, for that matter,' [and again she turned to the glass]
'her features were not irregular; her eyes not at all amiss.' And I
remember they were more than usually brilliant at that time.--
'Nothing, in short, to be found fault with, though nothing very
engaging she doubted--was there, Clary.'

Excuse me, my dear, I never was thus particular before; no, not to
you. Nor would I now have written thus freely of a sister, but that
she makes a merit to my brother of disowning that she ever liked him;
as I shall mention hereafter: and then you will always have me give
you minute descriptions, nor suffer me to pass by the air and manner
in which things are spoken that are to be taken notice of; rightly
observing, that air and manner often express more than the
accompanying words.

I congratulated her upon her prospects. She received my compliments
with a great deal of self-complacency.

She liked the gentleman still more at his next visit; and yet he made
no particular address to her, although an opportunity was given him
for it. This was wondered at, as my uncle has introduced him into our
family declaredly as a visitor to my sister. But as we are ever ready
to make excuses when in good humour with ourselves for the perhaps not
unwilful slights of those whose approbation we wish to engage; so my
sister found out a reason much to Mr. Lovelace's advantage for his not
improving the opportunity that was given him.--It was bashfulness,
truly, in him. [Bashfulness in Mr. Lovelace, my dear!]--Indeed, gay
and lively as he is, he has not the look of an impudent man. But, I
fancy, it is many, many years ago since he was bashful.

Thus, however, could my sister make it out--'Upon her word, she
believed Mr. Lovelace deserved not the bad character he had as to
women.--He was really, to her thinking, a modest man. He would have
spoken out, she believed; but once or twice as he seemed to intend to
do so, he was under so agreeable a confusion! Such a profound
respect he seemed to shew her! A perfect reverence, she thought: she
loved dearly that a man in courtship should shew a reverence to his
mistress'--So indeed we all do, I believe: and with reason; since, if
I may judge from what I have seen in many families, there is little
enough of it shewn afterwards.--And she told my aunt Hervey, that she
would be a little less upon the reserve next time he came: 'She was
not one of those flirts, not she, who would give pain to a person that
deserved to be well-treated; and the more pain for the greatness of
his value for her.'--I wish she had not somebody whom I love in her
eye.

In his third visit, Bella governed herself by this kind and
considerate principle: so that, according to her own account of the
matter, the man might have spoken out.--But he was still bashful: he
was not able to overcome this unseasonable reverence. So this visit
went off as the former.

But now she began to be dissatisfied with him. She compared his
general character with this his particular behaviour to her; and
having never been courted before, owned herself puzzled how to deal
with so odd a lover. 'What did the man mean, she wondered? Had not
her uncle brought him declaredly as a suitor to her?--It could not be
bashfulness (now she thought of it) since he might have opened his
mind to her uncle, if he wanted courage to speak directly to her.--Not
that she cared much for the man neither: but it was right, surely,
that a woman should be put out of doubt early as to a man's intentions
in such a case as this, from his own mouth.--But, truly, she had begun
to think, that he was more solicitous to cultivate her mamma's good
opinion, than hers!--Every body, she owned, admired her mother's
conversation; but he was mistaken if he thought respect to her mother
only would do with her. And then, for his own sake, surely he should
put it into her power to be complaisant to him, if he gave her reason
to approve of him. This distant behaviour, she must take upon herself
to say, was the more extraordinary, as he continued his visits, and
declared himself extremely desirous to cultivate a friendship with the
whole family; and as he could have no doubt about her sense, if she
might take upon her to join her own with the general opinion; he
having taken great notice of, and admired many of her good things as
they fell from her lips. Reserves were painful, she must needs say,
to open and free spirits, like hers: and yet she must tell my aunt,'
(to whom all this was directed) 'that she should never forget what she
owed to her sex, and to herself, were Mr. Lovelace as unexceptionable
in his morals as in his figure, and were he to urge his suit ever so
warmly.'

I was not of her council. I was still absent. And it was agreed upon
between my aunt Hervey and her, that she was to be quite solemn and
shy in his next visit, if there were not a peculiarity in his address
to her.

But my sister it seems had not considered the matter well. This was
not the way, as it proved, to be taken for matters of mere omission,
with a man of Mr. Lovelace's penetration. Nor with any man; since if
love has not taken root deep enough to cause it to shoot out into
declaration, if an opportunity be fairly given for it, there is little
room to expect, that the blighting winds of anger or resentment will
bring it forward. Then my poor sister is not naturally good-humoured.
This is too well-known a truth for me to endeavor to conceal it,
especially from you. She must therefore, I doubt, have appeared to
great disadvantages when she aimed to be worse tempered than ordinary.

How they managed it in their next conversation I know not. One would
be tempted to think by the issue, that Mr. Lovelace was ungenerous
enough to seek the occasion given,* and to improve it. Yet he thought
fit to put the question too:--But, she says, it was not till, by some
means or other (she knew not how) he had wrought her up to such a
pitch of displeasure with him, that it was impossible for her to
recover herself at the instant. Nevertheless he re-urged his
question, as expecting a definitive answer, without waiting for the
return of her temper, or endeavouring to mollify her; so that she was
under a necessity of persisting in her denial: yet gave him reason to
think she did not dislike his address, only the manner of it; his
court being rather made to her mother than to herself, as if he was
sure of her consent at any time.

* See Mr. Lovelace's Letter, No. XXXI, in which he briefly accounts for
his conduct in this affair.

A good encouraging denial, I must own: as was the rest of her plea; to
wit, 'A disinclination to change her state. Exceedingly happy as she
was: she never could be happier!' And such-like consenting negatives,
as I may call them, and yet not intend a reflection upon my sister:
for what can any young creature in the like circumstances say, when
she is not sure but a too-ready consent may subject her to the slights
of a sex that generally values a blessing either more or less as it is
obtained with difficulty or ease? Miss Biddulph's answer to a copy of
verse from a gentleman, reproaching our sex as acting in disguise, is
not a bad one, although you may perhaps think it too acknowledging for
the female character.

Ungen'rous Sex!--To scorn us if we're kind;
And yet upbraid us if we seem severe!
Do you, t' encourage us to tell our mind,
Yourselves put off disguise, and be sincere.
You talk of coquetry!--Your own false hearts
Compel our sex to act dissembling parts.

Here I am obliged to lay down my pen. I will soon resume it.

LETTER III

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
JAN. 13, 14.

And thus, as Mr. Lovelace thought fit to take it, had he his answer
from my sister. It was with very great regret, as he pretended, [I
doubt the man is an hypocrite, my dear] that he acquiesced in it. 'So
much determinedness; such a noble firmness in my sister, that there
was no hope of prevailing upon her to alter sentiments she had adopted
on full consideration.' He sighed, as Bella told us, when he took his
leave of her: 'Profoundly sighed; grasped her hand, and kissed it with
such an ardour--Withdrew with such an air of solemn respect--She could
almost find it in her heart, although he had vexed her, to pity him.'
A good intentional preparative to love, this pity; since, at the time,
she little thought that he would not renew his offer.

He waited on my mother after he had taken leave of Bella, and reported
his ill success in so respectful a manner, as well with regard to my
sister, as to the whole family, and with so much concern that he was
not accepted as a relation to it, that it left upon them all (my
brother being then, as I have said, in Scotland) impressions in his
favour, and a belief that this matter would certainly be brought on
again. But Mr. Lovelace going up directly to town, where he staid a
whole fortnight, and meeting there with my uncle Antony, to whom he
regretted his niece's cruel resolution not to change her state; it was
seen that there was a total end of the affair.

My sister was not wanting to herself on this occasion. She made a
virtue of necessity; and the man was quite another man with her. 'A
vain creature! Too well knowing his advantages: yet those not what
she had conceived them to be!--Cool and warm by fits and starts; an
ague-like lover. A steady man, a man of virtue, a man of morals, was
worth a thousand of such gay flutterers. Her sister Clary might think
it worth her while perhaps to try to engage such a man: she had
patience: she was mistress of persuasion: and indeed, to do the girl
justice, had something of a person: But as for her, she would not have
a man of whose heart she could not be sure for one moment; no, not for
the world: and most sincerely glad was she that she had rejected him.'

But when Mr. Lovelace returned into the country, he thought fit to
visit my father and mother; hoping, as he told them, that, however
unhappy he had been in the rejection of the wished-for alliance, he
might be allowed to keep up an acquaintance and friendship with a
family which he should always respect. And then unhappily, as I may
say, was I at home and present.

It was immediately observed, that his attention was fixed on me. My
sister, as soon as he was gone, in a spirit of bravery, seemed
desirous to promote his address, should it be tendered.

My aunt Hervey was there; and was pleased to say, we should make the
finest couple in England--if my sister had no objection.--No, indeed!
with a haughty toss, was my sister's reply--it would be strange if she
had, after the denial she had given him upon full deliberation.

My mother declared, that her only dislike of his alliance with either
daughter, was on account of his reputed faulty morals.

My uncle Harlowe, that his daughter Clary, as he delighted to call me
from childhood, would reform him if any woman in the world could.

My uncle Antony gave his approbation in high terms: but referred, as
my aunt had done, to my sister.

She repeated her contempt of him; and declared, that, were there not
another man in England, she would not have him. She was ready, on the
contrary, she could assure them, to resign her pretensions under hand
and seal, if Miss Clary were taken with his tinsel, and if every one
else approved of his address to the girl.

My father indeed, after a long silence, being urged by my uncle Antony
to speak his mind, said, that he had a letter from his son, on his
hearing of Mr. Lovelace's visits to his daughter Arabella; which he
had not shewn to any body but my mother; that treaty being at an end
when he received it: that in this letter he expressed great dislike to
an alliance with Mr. Lovelace on the score of his immoralities: that
he knew, indeed, there was an old grudge between them; but that, being
desirous to prevent all occasions of disunion and animosity in his
family, he would suspend the declaration of his own mind till his son
arrived, and till he had heard his further objections: that he was the
more inclined to make his son this compliment, as Mr. Lovelace's
general character gave but too much ground for his son's dislike of
him; adding, that he had hear (so, he supposed, had every one,) that
he was a very extravagant man; that he had contracted debts in his
travels: and indeed, he was pleased to say, he had the air of a
spendthrift.

These particulars I had partly from my aunt Hervey, and partly from my
sister; for I was called out as soon as the subject was entered upon.
When I returned, my uncle Antony asked me, how I should like Mr.
Lovelace? Every body saw, he was pleased to say, that I had made a
conquest.

I immediately answered, that I did not like him at all: he seemed to
have too good an opinion both on his person and parts, to have any
regard to his wife, let him marry whom he would.

My sister particularly was pleased with this answer, and confirmed it
to be just; with a compliment to my judgment.--For it was hers.

But the very next day Lord M. came to Harlowe-Place [I was then
absent]; and in his nephew's name made a proposal in form; declaring,
that it was the ambition of all his family to be related to ours: and
he hoped his kinsman would not have such an answer on the part of the
younger sister, as he had on that of the elder.

In short, Mr. Lovelace's visits were admitted as those of a man who
had not deserved disrespect from our family; but as to his address to
me, with a reservation, as above, on my father's part, that he would
determine nothing without his son. My discretion as to the rest was
confided in: for still I had the same objections as to the man: nor
would I, when we were better acquainted, hear any thing but general
talk from him; giving him no opportunity of conversing with me in
private.

He bore this with a resignation little expected from his natural
temper, which is generally reported to be quick and hasty; unused it
seems from childhood to check or controul. A case too common in
considerable families where there is an only son: and his mother never
had any other child. But, as I have heretofore told you, I could
perceive, notwithstanding this resignation, that he had so good an
opinion of himself, as not to doubt, that his person and
accomplishments would insensibly engage me: And could that be once
done, he told my aunt Hervey, he should hope, from so steady a temper,
that his hold in my affections would be durable: While my sister
accounted for his patience in another manner, which would perhaps have
had more force if it had come from a person less prejudiced: 'That the
man was not fond of marrying at all: that he might perhaps have half a
score mistresses: and that delay might be as convenient for his
roving, as for my well-acted indifference.' That was her kind
expression.

Whatever was his motive for a patience so generally believed to be out
of his usual character, and where the object of his address was
supposed to be of fortune considerable enough to engage his warmest
attention, he certainly escaped many mortifications by it: for while my
father suspended his approbation till my brother's arrival, Mr.
Lovelace received from every one those civilities which were due to
his birth: and although we heard from time to time reports to his
disadvantage with regard to morals, yet could we not question him upon
them without giving him greater advantages in his own opinion than the
situation he was in with us would justify to prudence; since it was
much more likely that his address would not be allowed of, than that
it would.

And thus was he admitted to converse with our family almost upon his
own terms; for while my friends saw nothing in his behaviour but what
was extremely respectful, and observed in him no violent importunity,
they seemed to have taken a great liking to his conversation: While I
considered him only as a common guest when he came; and thought myself
no more concerned in his visits, not at his entrance and departure,
than any other of the family.

But this indifference on my side was the means of procuring him one
very great advantage; since upon it was grounded that correspondence
by letters which succeeded;--and which, had it been to be begun when
the family animosity broke out, would never have been entered into on
my part. The occasion was this:

My uncle Hervey has a young gentleman intrusted to his care, whom he
has thoughts of sending abroad a year or two hence, to make the Grand
Tour, as it is called; and finding Mr. Lovelace could give a good
account of every thing necessary for a young traveller to observe upon
such an occasion, he desired him to write down a description of the
courts and countries he had visited, and what was most worthy of
curiosity in them.

He consented, on condition that I would direct his subjects, as he
called it: and as every one had heard his manner of writing commended;
and thought his narratives might be agreeable amusements in winter
evenings; and that he could have no opportunity particularly to
address me directly in them, since they were to be read in full
assembly before they were given to the young gentleman, I made the
less scruple to write, and to make observations, and put questions for
our further information--Still the less perhaps as I love writing; and
those who do, are fond, you know, of occasions to use the pen: And
then, having ever one's consent, and my uncle Hervey's desire that I
would write, I thought that if I had been the only scrupulous person,
it would have shewn a particularity that a vain man might construe to
his advantage; and which my sister would not fail to animadvert upon.

You have seen some of these letters; and have been pleased with this
account of persons, places, and things; and we have both agreed, that
he was no common observer upon what he had seen.

My sister allowed that the man had a tolerable knack of writing and
describing: And my father, who had been abroad in his youth, said,
that his remarks were curious, and shewed him to be a person of
reading, judgment and taste.

Thus was a kind of correspondence begun between him and me, with
general approbation; while every one wondered at, and was pleased
with, his patient veneration of me; for so they called it. However,
it was not doubted but he would soon be more importunate, since his
visits were more frequent, and he acknowledged to my aunt Hervey a
passion for me, accompanied with an awe that he had never known
before; to which he attributed what he called his but seeming
acquiescence with my father's pleasure, and the distance I kept him
at. And yet, my dear, this may be his usual manner of behaviour to
our sex; for had not my sister at first all his reverence?

Mean time, my father, expecting his importunity, kept in readiness the
reports he had heard in his disfavour, to charge them upon him then,
as so many objections to address. And it was highly agreeable to me
that he did so: it would have been strange if it were not; since the
person who could reject Mr. Wyerley's address for the sake of his free
opinions, must have been inexcusable, had she not rejected another's
for his freer practices.

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