Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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Every thing, I said, or nothing, as she was pleased to represent it.--
Be so good as to give it your interest, Bella, and say, further, 'That
I will by any means I can, in the law or otherwise, make over to my
father, to my uncles, or even to my brother, all I am entitled to by
my grandfather's will, as a security for the performance of my
promises. And as I shall have no reason to expect any favour from my
father, if I break them, I shall not be worth any body's having. And
further still, unkindly as my brother has used me, I will go down to
Scotland privately, as his housekeeper [I now see I may be spared
here] if he will promise to treat me no worse than he would do an
hired one.--Or I will go to Florence, to my cousin Morden, if his stay
in Italy will admit of it. In either case, it may be given out, that
I am gone to the other; or to the world's end. I care not whither it
is said I am gone, or do go.'

Let me ask you, child, if you will give your pretty proposal in
writing?

Yes, with all my heart. And I stepped to my closet, and wrote to the
purpose I have mentioned; and moreover, the following lines to my
brother.

MY DEAR BROTHER,

I hope I have made such proposals to my sister as will be accepted. I
am sure they will, if you please to give them your sanction. Let me
beg of you, for God's sake, that you will. I think myself very
unhappy in having incurred your displeasure. No sister can love a
brother better than I love you. Pray do not put the worst but the
best constructions upon my proposals, when you have them reported to
you. Indeed I mean the best. I have no subterfuges, no arts, no
intentions, but to keep to the letter of them. You shall yourself
draw up every thing into writing, as strong as you can, and I will
sign it: and what the law will not do to enforce it, my resolution and
my will shall: so that I shall be worth nobody's address, that has not
my papa's consent: nor shall any person, nor any consideration, induce
me to revoke it. You can do more than any body to reconcile my
parents and uncles to me. Let me owe this desirable favour to your
brotherly interposition, and you will for ever oblige

Your afflicted Sister,
CL. HARLOWE.

***

And how do you think Bella employed herself while I was writing?--Why,
playing gently upon my harpsichord; and humming to it, to shew her
unconcernedness.

When I approached her with what I had written, she arose with an air
of levity--Why, love, you have not written already!--You have, I
protest!--O what a ready penwoman!--And may I read it?

If you please. And let me beseech you, my dear Bella, to back these
proposals with your good offices: and [folding my uplifted hands;
tears, I believe, standing in my eyes] I will love you as never sister
loved another.

Thou art a strange creature, said she; there is no withstanding thee.

She took the proposals and letter; and having read them, burst into an
affected laugh: How wise ones may be taken in!--Then you did not know,
that I was jesting with you all this time!--And so you would have me
carry down this pretty piece of nonsense?

Don't let me be surprised at your seeming unsisterliness, Bella. I
hope it is but seeming. There can be no wit in such jesting as this.

The folly of the creature!--How natural is it for people, when they
set their hearts upon any thing, to think every body must see with
their eyes!--Pray, dear child, what becomes of your father's authority
here?--Who stoops here, the parent, or the child?--How does this
square with engagements actually agreed upon between your father and
Mr. Solmes? What security, that your rake will not follow you to the
world's end?--Nevertheless, that you may not think that I stand in the
way of a reconciliation on such fine terms as these, I will be your
messenger this once, and hear what my papa will say to it; although
beforehand I can tell you, these proposals will not answer the
principal end.

So down she went. But, it seems, my aunt Hervey and my uncle Harlowe
were not gone away: and as they have all engaged to act in concert,
messengers were dispatched to my uncle and aunt to desire them to be
there to breakfast in the morning.

MONDAY NIGHT, ELEVEN O'CLOCK.

I am afraid I shall not be thought worthy--

Just as I began to fear I should not be thought worthy of an answer,
Betty rapped at my door, and said, if I were not in bed, she had a
letter for me. I had but just done writing the above dialogue, and
stept to the door with the pen in my hand--Always writing, Miss! said
the bold wench: it is admirable how you can get away what you write--
but the fairies, they say, are always at hand to help lovers.--She
retired in so much haste, that, had I been disposed, I could not take
the notice of this insolence which it deserved.

I enclose my brother's letter. He was resolved to let me see, that I
should have nothing to expect from his kindness. But surely he will
not be permitted to carry every point. The assembling of my friends
to-morrow is a good sign: and I will hope something from that, and
from proposals so reasonable. And now I will try if any repose will
fall to my lot for the remainder of this night.

TO MISS CLARY HARLOWE
[ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.]

Your proposals will be considered by your father and mother, and all
your friends, to-morrow morning. What trouble does your shameful
forwardness give us all! I wonder you have the courage to write to
me, upon whom you are so continually emptying your whole female
quiver. I have no patience with you, for reflecting upon me as the
aggressor in a quarrel which owed its beginning to my consideration
for you.

You have made such confessions in a villain's favour, as ought to
cause all your relations to renounce you for ever. For my part, I
will not believe any woman in the world, who promises against her
avowed inclination. To put it out of your power to ruin yourself is
the only way left to prevent your ruin. I did not intend to write;
but your too-kind sister has prevailed upon me. As to your going to
Scotland, that day of grace is over.--Nor would I advise, that you
should go to grandfather-up your cousin Morden. Besides, that worthy
gentleman might be involved in some fatal dispute, upon your account;
and then be called the aggressor.

A fine situation you have brought yourself to, to propose to hide
yourself from your rake, and to have falsehoods told, to conceal you!
--Your confinement, at this rate, is the happiest thing that could
befal you. Your bravo's behaviour at church, looking out for you, is
a sufficient indication of his power over you, had you not so
shamelessly acknowledged it.

One word for all--Your parents and uncles may do as they will: but if,
for the honour of the family, I cannot carry this point, I will retire
to Scotland, and never see the face of any one of it more.

JAMES HARLOWE.

***

There's a brother!--There's flaming duty to a father, and mother, and
uncles!--But he sees himself valued, and made of consequence; and he
gives himself airs accordingly!--Nevertheless, as I said above, I will
hope better things from those who have not the interest my brother has
to keep open these unhappy differences.

LETTER XLIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
TUESDAY, MARCH 21.

Would you not have thought, my dear Miss Howe, as well as I, that my
proposal must have been accepted: and that my brother, by the last
article of his unbrotherly letter (where he threatens to go to
Scotland if it should be hearkened to) was of opinion that it would.

For my part, after I had read the unkind letter over and over, I
concluded, upon the whole, that a reconciliation upon terms so
disadvantageous to myself, as hardly any other person in my case, I
dare say, would have proposed, must be the result of this morning's
conference. And in that belief I had begun to give myself new trouble
in thinking (this difficulty over) how I should be able to pacify
Lovelace on that part of my engagement, by which I undertook to break
off all correspondence with him, unless my friends should be brought,
by the interposition of his powerful friends, and any offers they
might make, (which it was rather his part to suggest, than mine to
intimate,) to change their minds.

Thus was I employed, not very agreeably, you may believe, because of
the vehemence of the tempers I had to conflict with; when
breakfasting-time approached, and my judges began to arrive.

And oh! how my heart fluttered on hearing the chariot of the one, and
then of the other, rattle through the court-yard, and the hollow-
sounding foot-step giving notice of each person's stepping out, to
take his place on the awful bench which my fancy had formed for them
and my other judges!

That, thought I, is my aunt Hervey's! That my uncle Harlowe's! Now
comes my uncle Antony! And my imagination made a fourth chariot for
the odious Solmes, although it happened he was not there.

And now, thought I, are they all assembled: and now my brother calls
upon my sister to make her report! Now the hard-hearted Bella
interlards her speech with invective! Now has she concluded her
report! Now they debate upon it!--Now does my brother flame! Now
threaten to go to Scotland! Now is he chidden, and now soothed!

And then I ran through the whole conference in my imagination, forming
speeches for this person and that, pro and con, till all concluded, as
I flattered myself, in an acceptance of my conditions, and in giving
directions to have an instrument drawn to tie me up to my good
behaviour; while I supposed all agreed to give Solmes a wife every way
more worthy of him, and with her the promise of my grandfather's
estate, in case of my forfeiture, or dying unmarried, on the righteous
condition he proposes to entitle himself to it with me.

And now, thought I, am I to be ordered down to recognize my own
proposals. And how shall I look upon my awful judges? How shall I
stand the questions of some, the set surliness of others, the
returning love of one or two? How greatly shall I be affected!

Then I wept: then I dried my eyes: then I practised at my glass for a
look more cheerful than my heart.

And now [as any thing stirred] is my sister coming to declare the
issue of all! Tears gushing again, my heart fluttering as a bird
against its wires; drying my eyes again and again to no purpose.

And thus, my Nancy, [excuse the fanciful prolixity,] was I employed,
and such were my thoughts and imaginations, when I found a very
different result from the hopeful conference.

For about ten o'clock up came my sister, with an air of cruel triumph,
waving her hand with a light flourish--

Obedience without reserve is required of you, Clary. My papa is
justly incensed, that you should presume to dispute his will, and to
make conditions with him. He knows what is best for you: and as you
own matters are gone a great way between this hated Lovelace and you,
they will believe nothing you say; except you will give the one only
instance, that will put them out of doubt of the sincerity of your
promises.

What, child, are you surprised?--Cannot you speak?--Then, it seems,
you had expected a different issue, had you?--Strange that you could!
--With all your acknowledgements and confessions, so creditable to
your noted prudence!--

I was indeed speechless for some time: my eyes were even fixed, and
ceased to flow. But upon the hard-hearted Bella's proceeding with her
airs of insult, Indeed I was mistaken, said I; indeed I was!----For in
you, Bella, I expected, I hoped for, a sister--

What! interrupted she, with all your mannerly flings, and your
despising airs, did you expect that I was capable of telling stories
for you?--Did you think, that when I was asked my own opinion of the
sincerity of your declarations, I could not tell tem, how far matters
had gone between you and your fellow?--When the intention is to bend
that stubborn will of yours to your duty, do you think I would deceive
them?--Do you think I would encourage them to call you down, to
contradict all that I should have invented in your favour?

Well, well, Bella; I am the less obliged to you; that's all. I was
willing to think that I had still a brother and sister. But I find I
am mistaken.

Pretty mopsy-eyed soul!--was her expression!--And was it willing to
think it had still a brother and sister? And why don't you go on,
Clary? [mocking my half-weeping accent] I thought I had a father, and
mother, two uncles, and an aunt: but I am mis--taken, that's all--
come, Clary, say this, and it will in part be true, because you have
thrown off all their authority, and because you respect one vile
wretch more than them all.

How have I deserved this at your hands, Sister?--But I will only say,
I pity you.

And with that disdainful air too, Clary!--None of that bridled neck!
none of your scornful pity, girl!--I beseech you!

This sort of behaviour is natural to you, surely, Bella!--What new
talents does it discover in you!--But proceed--If it be a pleasure to
you, proceed, Bella. And since I must not pity you, I will pity
myself: for nobody else will.

Because you don't, said she--

Hush, Bella, interrupting her, because I don't deserve it--I know you
were going to say so. I will say as you say in every thing; and
that's the way to please you.

Then say, Lovelace is a villain.

So I will, when I think him so.

Then you don't think him so?

Indeed I don't. You did not always, Bella.

And what, Clary, mean you by that? [bristling up to me]--Tell me what
you mean by that reflection?

Tell me why you call it a reflection?--What did I say?

Thou art a provoking creature--But what say you to two or three duels
of that wretch's?

I can't tell what to say, unless I knew the occasions.

Do you justify duelling at all?

I do not: neither can I help his duelling.

Will you go down, and humble that stubborn spirit of yours to your
mamma?

I said nothing.

Shall I conduct your Ladyship down? [offering to take my declined
hand].

What! not vouchsafe to answer me?

I turned from her in silence.

What! turn your back upon me too!--Shall I bring up your mamma to you,
love? [following me, and taking my struggling hand] What? not speak
yet! Come, my sullen, silent dear, speak one word to me--you must say
two very soon to Mr. Solmes, I can tell you that.

Then [gushing into tears, which I could not hold in longer] they shall
be the last words I will ever speak.

Well, well, [insultingly wiping my averted face with her handkerchief,
while her other hand held mine, in a ridiculing tone,] I am glad any
thing will make thee speak: then you think you may be brought to speak
the two words--only they are to be the last!--How like a gentle lovyer
from its tender bleeding heart was that!

Ridiculous Bella!

Saucy Clary! [changing her sneering tone to an imperious one] But do
you think you can humble yourself to go down to your mamma?

I am tired of such stuff as this. Tell me, Bella, if my mamma will
condescend to see me?

Yes, if you can be dutiful at last.

I can. I will.

But what call you dutiful?

To give up my own inclinations--That's something more for you to tell
of--in obedience to my parents' commands; and to beg that I may not be
made miserable with a man that is fitter for any body than for me.

For me, do you mean, Clary?

Why not? since you have put the question. You have a better opinion
of him than I have. My friends, I hope, would not think him too good
for me, and not good enough for you. But cannot you tell me, Bella,
what is to become of me, without insulting over me thus?--If I must be
thus treated, remember, that if I am guilty of any rashness, the usage
I meet with will justify it.

So, Clary, you are contriving an excuse, I find, for somewhat that we
have not doubted has been in your head a great while.

If it were so, you seem resolved, for your part, and so does my
brother for his, that I shall not want one.--But indeed, Bella, I can
bear no longer this repetition of the worst part of yesterday's
conversation: I desire I may throw myself at my father's and mother's
feet, and hear from them what their sentence is. I shall at least
avoid, by that means, the unsisterly insults I meet with from you.

Hey-day! What, is this you? Is it you, my meek sister Clary?

Yes, it is I, Bella; and I will claim the protection due to a child of
the family, or to know why I am to be thus treated, when I offer only
to preserve to myself the liberty of refusal, which belongs to my sex;
and, to please my parents, would give up my choice. I have contented
myself till now to take second-hand messengers, and first-hand
insults: you are but my sister: my brother is not my sovereign. And
while I have a father and mother living, I will not be thus treated by
a brother and sister, and their servants, all setting upon me, as it
should seem, to make me desperate, and do a rash thing.--I will know,
in short, sister Bella, why I am to be constrained thus?--What is
intended by it?--And whether I am to be considered as a child or a
slave?

She stood aghast all this time, partly with real, partly with
affected, surprise.

And is it you? Is it indeed you?--Well, Clary, you amaze me! But
since you are so desirous to refer yourself to your father and mother,
I will go down, and tell them what you say. Your friends are not yet
gone, I believe: they shall assemble again; and then you may come
down, and plead your own cause in person.

Let me then. But let my brother and you be absent. You have made
yourselves too much parties against me, to sit as my judges. And I
desire to have none of yours or his interpositions. I am sure you
could not have represented what I proposed fairly: I am sure you could
not. Nor is it possible you should be commissioned to treat me thus.

Well, well, I'll call up my brother to you.--I will indeed.--He shall
justify himself, as well as me.

I desire not to see my brother, except he will come as a brother,
laying aside the authority he has unjustly assumed over me.

And so, Clary, it is nothing to him, or to me, is it, that our sister
shall disgrace her whole family?

As how, Bella, disgrace it?--The man whom you thus freely treat, is a
man of birth and fortune: he is a man of parts, and nobly allied.--He
was once thought worthy of you: and I wish to Heaven you had had him.
I am sure it was not thus my fault you had not, although you treat me
thus.

This set her into a flame: I wish I had forborne it. O how the poor
Bella raved! I thought she would have beat me once or twice: and she
vowed her fingers itched to do so--but I was not worth her anger: yet
she flamed on.

We were heard to be high.--And Betty came up from my mother to command
my sister to attend her.--She went down accordingly, threatening me
with letting every one know what a violent creature I had shewn myself
to be.

TUESDAY NOON, MARCH 21.

I have as yet heard no more of my sister: and have not courage enough
to insist upon throwing myself at the feet of my father and mother, as
I thought in my heat of temper I should be able to do. And I am now
grown as calm as ever; and were Bella to come up again, as fit to be
played upon as before.

I am indeed sorry that I sent her from me in such disorder. But my
papa's letter threatening me with my uncle Antony's house and chapel,
terrifies me strangely; and by their silence I'm afraid some new storm
is gathering.

But what shall I do with this Lovelace? I have just now, but the
unsuspected hole in the wall (that I told you of in my letter by
Hannah) got a letter from him--so uneasy is he for fear I should be
prevailed upon in Solmes's favour; so full of menaces, if I am; so
resenting the usage I receive [for, how I cannot tell, but he has
undoubtedly intelligence of all that is done in the family]; such
protestations of inviolable faith and honour; such vows of
reformation; such pressing arguments to escape from this disgraceful
confinement--O my Nancy, what shall I do with this Lovelace?--

LETTER XLIV

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
WENESDAY MORNING, NINE O'CLOCK.

My aunt Hervey lay here last night, and is but just gone from me. She
came up to me with my sister. They would not trust my aunt without
this ill-natured witness. When she entered my chamber, I told her,
that this visit was a high favour to a poor prisoner, in her hard
confinement. I kissed her hand. She, kindly saluting me, said, Why
this distance to your aunt, my dear, who loves you so well?

She owned, that she came to expostulate with me, for the peace-sake of
the family: for that she could not believe it possible, if I did not
conceive myself unkindly treated, that I, who had ever shewn such a
sweetness of temper, as well as manners, should be thus resolute, in a
point so very near to my father, and all my friends. My mother and
she were both willing to impute my resolution to the manner I had been
begun with; and to my supposing that my brother had originally more of
a hand in the proposals made by Mr. Solmes, than my father or other
friends. In short, fain would my aunt have furnished me with an
excuse to come off my opposition; Bell all the while humming a tune,
and opening this book and that, without meaning; but saying nothing.

After having shewed me, that my opposition could not be of
signification, my father's honour being engaged, my aunt concluded
with enforcing upon me my duty, in stronger terms than I believe she
would have done, (the circumstances of the case considered), had not
my sister been present.

It would be repeating what I have so often mentioned, to give you the
arguments that passed on both sides.--So I will only recite what she
was pleased to say, that carried with it a new face.

When she found me inflexible, as she was pleased to call it, she said,
For her part, she could not but say, that if I were not to have either
Mr. Solmes or Mr. Lovelace, and yet, to make my friends easy, must
marry, she should not think amiss of Mr. Wyerley. What did I think of
Mr. Wyerley?

Ay, Clary, put in my sister, what say you to Mr. Wyerley?

I saw through this immediately. It was said on purpose, I doubted
not, to have an argument against me of absolute prepossession in Mr.
Lovelace's favour: since Mr. Wyerley every where avows his value, even
to veneration, for me; and is far less exceptionable both in person
and mind, than Mr. Solmes: and I was willing to turn the tables, by
trying how far Mr. Solmes's terms might be dispensed with; since the
same terms could not be expected from Mr. Wyerley.

I therefore desired to know, whether my answer, if it should be in
favour of Mr. Wyerley, would release me from Mr. Solmes?--For I owned,
that I had not the aversion to him, that I had to the other.

Nay, she had no commission to propose such a thing. She only knew,
that my father and mother would not be easy till Mr. Lovelace's hopes
were entirely defeated.

Cunning creature! said my sister.

And this, and her joining in the question before, convinced me, that
it was a designed snare for me.

Don't you, dear Madam, said I, put questions that can answer no end,
but to support my brother's schemes against me.--But are there any
hopes of an end to my sufferings and disgrace, without having this
hated man imposed upon me? Will not what I have offered be accepted?
I am sure it ought--I will venture to say that.

Why, Niece, if there be not any such hopes, I presume you don't think
yourself absolved from the duty due from a child to her parents?

Yes, said my sister, I do not doubt but it is Miss Clary's aim, if she
does not fly to her Lovelace, to get her estate into her own hands,
and go to live at The Grove, in that independence upon which she
builds all her perverseness. And, dear heart! my little love, how
will you then blaze away! Your mamma Norton, your oracle, with your
poor at your gates, mingling so proudly and so meanly with the ragged
herd! Reflecting, by your ostentation, upon all the ladies in the
county, who do not as you do. This is known to be your scheme! and
the poor without-doors, and Lovelace within, with one hand building up
a name, pulling it down with the other!--O what a charming scheme is
this!--But let me tell you, my pretty little flighty one, that your
father's living will shall controul your grandfather's dead one; and
that estate will be disposed of as your fond grandfather would have
disposed of it, had he lived to see such a change in his favourite.
In a word, Miss, it will be kept out of your hands, till my father
sees you discreet enough to have the management of it, or till you can
dutifully, by law, tear it from him.

Fie, Miss Harlowe! said my aunt: this is not pretty to your sister.

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