Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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Come, be a good child, as you used to be, my Clarissa. I have
(notwithstanding your past behaviour, and the hopelessness which some
have expressed in your compliance) undertaken this one time more for
you. Discredit not my hopes, my dear girl. I have promised never
more to interfere between your father and you, if this my most earnest
application succeed not. I expect you down, love. Your father
expects you down. But be sure don't let him see any thing uncheerful
in your compliance. If you come, I will clasp you to my fond heart,
with as much pleasure as ever I pressed you to it in my whole life.
You don't know what I have suffered within these few weeks past; nor
ever will be able to guess, till you come to be in my situation; which
is that of a fond and indulgent mother, praying night and day, and
struggling to preserve, against the attempts of more ungovernable
spirits, the peace and union of her family.

But you know the terms. Come not near us, if you have resolve to be
undutiful: but this, after what I have written, I hope you cannot be.

If you come directly, and, as I have said, cheerfully, as if your
heart were in your duty, (and you told me it was free, you know,) I
shall then, as I said, give you the most tender proofs how much I am

Your truly affectionate Mother.

***

Think for me, my dearest friend, how I must be affected by this
letter; the contents of it is so surprisingly terrifying, yet so
sweetly urged!--O why, cried I to myself, am I obliged to undergo this
severe conflict between a command that I cannot obey, and language so
condescendingly moving!--Could I have been sure of being struck dead
at the alter before the ceremony had given the man I hate a title to
my vows, I think I could have submitted to having been led to it. But
to think of living with and living for a man one abhors, what a sad
thing is that!

And then, how could the glare of habit and ornament be supposed any
inducement to one, who has always held, that the principal view of a
good wife in the adorning of her person, ought to be, to preserve the
affection of her husband, and to do credit to his choice; and that she
should be even fearful of attracting the eyes of others?--In this
view, must not the very richness of the patterns add to my disgusts?--
Great encouragement, indeed, to think of adorning one's self to be the
wife of Mr. Solmes!

Upon the whole, it was not possible for me to go down upon the
prescribed condition. Do you think it was?--And to write, if my
letter would have been read, what could I write that would be
admitted, and after what I had written and said to so little effect?

I walked backward and forward. I threw down with disdain the
patterns. Now to my closet retired I; then quitting it, threw myself
upon the settee; then upon this chair, then upon that; then into one
window, then into another--I knew not what to do!--And while I was in
this suspense, having again taken up the letter to re-peruse it, Betty
came in, reminding me, by order, that my papa and mamma waited for me
in my father's study.

Tell my mamma, said I, that I beg the favour of seeing her here for
one moment, or to permit me to attend her any where by herself.

I listened at the stairs-head--You see, my dear, how it is, cried my
father, very angrily: all your condescension (as your indulgence
heretofore) is thrown away. You blame your son's violence, as you
call it [I had some pleasure in hearing this]; but nothing else will
do with her. You shall not see her alone. Is my presence an
exception to the bold creature?

Tell her, said my mother to Betty, she knows upon what terms she may
come down to us. Nor will I see her upon any other.

The maid brought me this answer. I had recourse to my pen and ink;
but I trembled so, that I could not write, nor knew what to say, had I
steadier fingers. At last Betty brought me these lines from my
father.

UNDUTIFUL AND PERVERSE CLARISSA,

No condescension, I see, will move you. Your mother shall not see
you; nor will I. Prepare however to obey. You know our pleasure.
Your uncle Antony, your brother, and your sister, and your favourite
Mrs. Norton, shall see the ceremony performed privately at your
uncle's chapel. And when Mr. Solmes can introduce you to us, in the
temper we wish to behold you in, we may perhaps forgive his wife,
although we never can, in any other character, our perverse daughter.
As it will be so privately performed, clothes and equipage may be
provided for afterwards. So prepare to go to your uncle's for an
early day in next week. We will not see you till all is over: and we
will have it over the sooner, in order to shorten the time of your
deserved confinement, and our own trouble in contending with such a
rebel, as you have been of late. I will hear no pleas, I will receive
no letter, nor expostulation. Nor shall you hear from me any more
till you have changed your name to my liking. This from

Your incensed Father.

If this resolution be adhered to, then will my father never see me
more!--For I will never be the wife of that Solmes--I will die
first!--

TUESDAY EVENING.

He, this Solmes, came hither soon after I had received my father's
letter. He sent up to beg leave to wait upon me--I wonder at his
assurance!--

I said to Betty, who brought me this message, let him restore an
unhappy creature to her father and mother, and then I may hear what he
has to say. But, if my friends will not see me on his account, I will
not see him upon his own.

I hope, Miss, said Betty, you will not send me down with this answer.
He is with you papa and mamma.

I am driven to despair, said I. I cannot be used worse. I will not
see him.

Down she went with my answer. She pretended, it seems, to be loth to
repeat it: so was commanded out of her affected reserves, and gave it
in its full force.

O how I heard my father storm!

They were altogether, it seems, in his study. My brother was for
having me turned out of the house that moment, to Lovelace, and my
evil destiny. My mother was pleased to put in a gentle word for me: I
know not what it was: but thus she was answered--My dear, this is the
most provoking thing in the world in a woman of your good sense!--To
love a rebel, as well as if she were dutiful. What encouragement for
duty is this?--Have I not loved her as well as ever you did? And why
am I changed! Would to the Lord, your sex knew how to distinguish!
It is plain, that she relies upon her power over you. The fond mother
ever made a hardened child!

She was pleased, however, to blame Betty, as the wench owned, for
giving my answer its full force. But my father praised her for it.

The wench says, that he would have come up in his wrath, at my
refusing to see Mr. Solmes, had not my brother and sister prevailed
upon him to the contrary.

I wish he had!--And, were it not for his own sake, that he had killed
me!

Mr. Solmes condescended [I am mightily obliged to him truly!] to plead
for me.

They are all in tumults! How it will end, I know not--I am quite
weary of life--So happy, till within these few weeks!--So miserable
now!

Well, indeed, might my mother say, that I should have severe trials.*

* See Letter XXV.

P.S. The idiot [such a one am I treated like!] is begged, as I may
say, by my brother and sister. They have desired, that I may be
consigned over entirely to their management. If it be granted, [it is
granted, on my father's part, I understand, but not yet on my
mother's,] what cruelty may I not expect from their envy, jealousy,
and ill-will!--I shall soon see, by its effects, if I am to be so
consigned. This is a written intimation privately dropt in my wood-
house walk, by my cousin Dolly Hervey. The dear girl longs to see me,
she tells me: but is forbidden till she see me as Mrs. Solmes, or as
consenting to be his. I will take example by their perseverance!--
Indeed I will!--

LETTER XLII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE

An angry dialogue, a scolding-bout rather, has passed between my
sister and me. Did you think I could scold, my dear?

She was sent up to me, upon my refusal to see Mr. Solmes--let loose
upon me, I think!--No intention on their parts to conciliate! It
seems evident that I am given up to my brother and her, by general
consent.

I will do justice to every thing she said against me, which carried
any force with it. As I ask for your approbation or disapprobation of
my conduct, upon the facts I lay before you, I should think it the
sign of a very bad cause, if I endeavoured to mislead my judge.

She began with representing to me the danger I had been in, had my
father come up, as he would have done had he not been hindered--by Mr.
Solmes, among the rest. She reflected upon my Norton, as if she
encouraged me in my perverseness. She ridiculed me for my supposed
esteem for Mr. Lovelace--was surprised that the witty, the prudent,
nay, the dutiful and pi--ous [so she sneeringly pronounced the word]
Clarissa Harlowe, should be so strangely fond of a profligate man,
that her parents were forced to lock her up, in order to hinder her
from running into his arms. 'Let me ask you, my dear, said she, how
you now keep your account of the disposition of your time? How many
hours in the twenty-four do you devote to your needle? How many to
your prayers? How many to letter-writing? And how many to love?--I
doubt, I doubt, my little dear, was her arch expression, the latter
article is like Aaron's rod, and swallows up the rest!--Tell me; is it
not so?'

To these I answered, That it was a double mortification to me to owe
my safety from the effects of my father's indignation to a man I could
never thank for any thing. I vindicated the good Mrs. Norton with a
warmth that was due to her merit. With equal warmth I resented her
reflections upon me on Mr. Lovelace's account. As to the disposition
of my time in the twenty-four hours, I told her it would better have
become her to pity a sister in distress, than to exult over her--
especially, when I could too justly attribute to the disposition of
some of her wakeful hours no small part of that distress.

She raved extremely at this last hint: but reminded me of the gentle
treatment of all my friends, my mother's in particular, before it came
to this. She said, that I had discovered a spirit they never had
expected: that, if they had thought me such a championess, they would
hardly have ventured to engage with me: but that now, the short and
the long of it was, that the matter had gone too far to be given up:
that it was become a contention between duty and willfulness; whether
a parent's authority were to yield to a daughter's obstinacy, or the
contrary: that I must therefore bend or break, that was all, child.

I told her, that I wished the subject were of such a nature, that I
could return her pleasantry with equal lightness of heart: but that,
if Mr. Solmes had such merit in every body's eyes, in hers,
particularly, why might he not be a brother to me, rather than a
husband?

O child, says she, methinks you are as pleasant to the full as I am: I
begin to have some hopes of you now. But do you think I will rob my
sister of her humble servant? Had he first addressed himself to me,
proceeded she, something might have been said: but to take my younger
sister's refusal! No, no, child; it is not come to that neither!
Besides, that would be to leave the door open in your heart for you
know who, child; and we would fain bar him out, if possible. In short
[and then she changed both her tone and her looks] had I been as
forward as somebody, to throw myself into the arms of one of the
greatest profligates in England, who had endeavoured to support his
claim to me through the blood of my brother, then might all my family
join together to save me from such a wretch, and to marry me as fast
as they could, to some worthy man, who might opportunely offer
himself. And now, Clary, all's out, and make the most of it.

Did not this deserve a severe return? Do, say it did, to justify my
reply.--Alas! for my poor sister! said I--The man was not always so
great a profligate. How true is the observation, That unrequited love
turns to deepest hate!

I thought she would beat me. But I proceeded--I have heard often of
my brother's danger, and my brother's murderer. When so little
ceremony is made with me, why should I not speak out?--Did he not seek
to kill the other, if he could have done it? Would my brother have
given Lovelace his life, had it been in his power?--The aggressor
should not complain.--And, as to opportune offers, would to Heaven
some one had offered opportunely to somebody! It is not my fault,
Bella, the opportune gentleman don't come!

Could you, my dear, have shewn more spirit? I expected to feel the
weight of her hand. She did come up to me, with it held up: then,
speechless with passion, ran half way down the stairs, and came up
again.

When she could speak--God give me patience with you!

Amen, said I: but you see, Bella, how ill you bear the retort you
provoke. Will you forgive me; and let me find a sister in you, as I
am sorry, if you had reason to think me unsisterly in what I have
said?

Then did she pour upon me, with greater violence; considering my
gentleness as a triumph of temper over her. She was resolved, she
said, to let every body know how I took the wicked Lovelace's part
against my brother.

I wished, I told her, I could make the plea for myself, which she
might for herself; to wit, that my anger was more inexcusable than my
judgment. But I presumed she had some other view in coming to me,
than she had hitherto acquainted me with. Let me, said I, but know
(after all that has passed) if you have any thing to propose that I
can comply with; any thing that can make my only sister once more my
friend?

I had before, upon hearing her ridiculing me on my supposed character
of meekness, said, that, although I wished to be thought meek, I would
not be abject; although humble not mean: and here, in a sneering way,
she cautioned me on that head.

I replied, that her pleasantry was much more agreeable than her anger.
But I wished she would let me know the end of a visit that had
hitherto (between us) been so unsisterly.

She desired to be informed, in the name of every body, was her word,
what I was determined upon? And whether to comply or not?--One word
for all: My friends were not to have patience with so perverse a
creature for ever.

This then I told her I would do: Absolutely break with the man they
were all so determined against: upon condition, however, that neither
Mr. Solmes, nor any other, were urged upon me with the force of a
command.

And what was this, more than I had offered before? What, but ringing
my changes upon the same bells, and neither receding nor advancing one
tittle?

If I knew what other proposals I could make, I told her, that would be
acceptable to them all, and free me from the address of a man so
disagreeable to me, I would make them. I had indeed before offered,
never to marry without my father's consent--

She interrupted me, That was because I depended upon my whining tricks
to bring my father and mother to what I pleased.

A poor dependence! I said:--She knew those who would make that
dependence vain--

And I should have brought them to my own beck, very probably, and my
uncle Harlowe too, as also my aunt Hervey, had I not been forbidden
from their sight, and thereby hindered from playing my pug's tricks
before them.

At least, Bella, said I, you have hinted to me to whom I am obliged,
that my father and mother, and every body else, treat me thus harshly.
But surely you make them all very weak. Indifferent persons, judging
of us two from what you say, would either think me a very artful
creature, or you a very spiteful one--

You are indeed a very artful one, for that matter, interrupted she in
a passion: one of the artfullest I ever knew! And then followed an
accusation so low! so unsisterly!--That I half-bewitched people by my
insinuating address: that nobody could be valued or respected, but
must stand like ciphers wherever I came. How often, said she, have I
and my brother been talking upon a subject, and had every body's
attention, till you came in, with your bewitching meek pride, and
humble significance? And then have we either been stopped by
references to Miss Clary's opinion, forsooth; or been forced to stop
ourselves, or must have talked on unattended to by every body.

She paused. Dear Bella, proceed!

She indeed seemed only gathering breath.

And so I will, said she--Did you not bewitch my grandfather? Could
any thing be pleasing to him, that you did not say or do? How did he
use to hang, till he slabbered again, poor doting old man! on your
silver tongue! Yet what did you say, that we could not have said?
What did you do, that we did not endeavour to do?--And what was all
this for? Why, truly, his last will shewed what effect your smooth
obligingness had upon him!--To leave the acquired part of his estate
from the next heirs, his own sons, to a grandchild; to his youngest
grandchild! A daughter too!--To leave the family-pictures from his
sons to you, because you could tiddle about them, and, though you now
neglect their examples, could wipe and clean them with your dainty
hands! The family-plate too, in such quantities, of two or three
generations standing, must not be changed, because his precious
child,* humouring his old fal-lal taste, admired it, to make it all
her own.

* Alluding to his words in the preamble to the clauses in his will.
See Letter IV.

This was too low to move me: O my poor sister! said I: not to be able,
or at least willing, to distinguish between art and nature! If I did
oblige, I was happy in it: I looked for no further reward: my mind is
above art, from the dirty motives you mention. I wish with all my
heart my grandfather had not thus distinguished me; he saw my brother
likely to be amply provided for out of the family, as well as in it:
he desired that you might have the greater share of my father's favour
for it; and no doubt but you both have. You know, Bella, that the
estate my grandfather bequeathed me was not half the real estate he
left.

What's all that to an estate in possession, and left you with such
distinctions, as gave you a reputation of greater value than the
estate itself?

Hence my misfortune, Bella, in your envy, I doubt!--But have I not
given up that possession in the best manner I could--

Yes, interrupting me, she hated me for that best manner. Specious
little witch! she called me: your best manner, so full of art and
design, had never been seen through, if you, with your blandishing
ways, have not been put out of sight, and reduced to positive
declarations!--Hindered from playing your little declarations!--
Hindered from playing your little whining tricks! curling, like a
serpent about your mamma; and making her cry to deny you any thing
your little obstinate heart was set upon!--

Obstinate heart, Bella!

Yes, obstinate heart! For did you ever give up any thing? Had you
not the art to make them think all was right you asked, though my
brother and I were frequently refused favours of no greater import!

I know not, Bella, that I ever asked any thing unfit to be granted. I
seldom asked favours for myself, but for others.

I was a reflecting creature for this.

All you speak of, Bella, was a long time ago. I cannot go so far back
into our childish follies. Little did I think of how long standing
your late-shewn antipathy is.

I was a reflector again! Such a saucy meekness; such a best manner;
and such venom in words!--O Clary! Clary! Thou wert always a
two-faced girl!

Nobody thought I had two faces, when I gave up all into my father's
management; taking from his bounty, as before, all my little
pocket-money, without a shilling addition to my stipend, or desiring
it--

Yes, cunning creature!--And that was another of your fetches!--For did
it not engage my fond father (as no doubt you thought it would) to
tell you, that since you had done so grateful and dutiful a thing, he
would keep entire, for your use, all the produce of the estate left
you, and be but your steward in it; and that you should be entitled to
the same allowances as before? Another of your hook-in's, Clary!--So
that all your extravagancies have been supported gratis.

My extravagancies, Bella!--But did my father ever give me any thing he
did not give you?

Yes, indeed; I got more by that means, than I should have had the
conscience to ask. But I have still the greater part to shew! But
you! What have you to shew?--I dare say, not fifty pieces in the
world!

Indeed I have not!

I believe you!--Your mamma Norton, I suppose--But mum for that!--

Unworthy Bella! The good woman, although low in circumstance, is
great in mind! Much greater than those who would impute meanness to a
soul incapable of it.

What then have you done with the sums given you from infancy to
squander?--Let me ask you [affecting archness], Has, has, has
Lovelace, has your rake, put it out at interest for you?

O that my sister would not make me blush for her! It is, however, out
at interest!--And I hope it will bring me interest upon interest!--
Better than to lie useless in my cabinet.

She understood me, she said. Were I a man, she should suppose I was
aiming to carry the county--Popularity! A crowd to follow me with
their blessings as I went to and from church, and nobody else to be
regarded, were agreeable things. House-top-proclamations! I hid not
my light under a bushel, she would say that for me. But was it not a
little hard upon me, to be kept from blazing on a Sunday?--And to be
hindered from my charitable ostentations?

This, indeed, Bella, is cruel in you, who have so largely contributed
to my confinement.--But go on. You'll be out of breath by-and-by. I
cannot wish to be able to return this usage.--Poor Bella! And I
believe I smiled a little too contemptuously for a sister to a sister.

None of your saucy contempts [rising in her voice]: None of your poor
Bella's, with that air of superiority in a younger sister!

Well then, rich Bella! courtesying--that will please you better--and
it is due likewise to the hoards you boast of.

Look ye, Clary, holding up her hand, if you are not a little more
abject in your meekness, a little more mean in your humility, and
treat me with the respect due to an elder sister--you shall find--

Not that you will treat me worse than you have done, Bella!--That
cannot be; unless you were to let fall your uplifted hand upon me--and
that would less become you to do, than me to bear.

Good, meek creature:--But you were upon your overtures just now!--I
shall surprise every body by tarrying so long. They will think some
good may be done with you--and supper will be ready.

A tear would stray down my cheek--How happy have I been, said I,
sighing, in the supper-time conversations, with all my dear friends in
my eye round their hospitable board.

I met only with insult for this--Bella has not a feeling heart. The
highest joy in this life she is not capable of: but then she saves
herself many griefs, by her impenetrableness--yet, for ten times the
pain that such a sensibility is attended with, would I not part with
the pleasure it brings with it.

She asked me, upon my turning from her, if she should not say any
thing below of my compliances?

You may say, that I will do every thing they would have me do, if they
will free me from Mr. Solmes's address.

This is all you desire at present, creeper on! insinuator! [What words
she has!] But will not t'other man flame out, and roar most horribly,
upon the snatching from his paws a prey he thought himself sure of?

I must let you talk in your own way, or we shall never come to a
point. I shall not matter in his roaring, as you call it. I will
promise him, that, if I ever marry any other man, it shall not be till
he is married. And if he be not satisfied with such a condescension,
I shall think he ought: and I will give any assurances, that I will
neither correspond with him, nor see him. Surely this will do.

But I suppose then you will have no objection to see and converse, on
a civil footing, with Mr. Solmes--as your father's friend, or so?

No! I must be permitted to retire to my apartment whenever he comes.
I would no more converse with the one, than correspond with the other.
That would be to make Mr. Lovelace guilty of some rashness, on a
belief, that I broke with him, to have Mr. Solmes.

And so, that wicked wretch is to be allowed such a controul over you,
that you are not to be civil to your father's friends, at his own
house, for fear of incensing him!--When this comes to be represented,
be so good as to tell me, what is it you expect from it!

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