Clarissa, Volume 1 (of 9)

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Our sex perhaps must expect to bear a little--uncourtliness shall I
call it?--from the husband whom as the lover they let know the
preference their hearts gave him to all other men.--Say what they will
of generosity being a manly virtue; but upon my word, my dear, I have
ever yet observed, that it is not to be met with in that sex one time
in ten that it is to be found in ours.--But my father was soured by
the cruel distemper I have named; which seized him all at once in the
very prime of life, in so violent a manner as to take from the most
active of minds, as his was, all power of activity, and that in all
appearance for life.--It imprisoned, as I may say, his lively spirits
in himself, and turned the edge of them against his own peace; his
extraordinary prosperity adding to his impatiency. Those, I believe,
who want the fewest earthly blessings, most regret that they want any.

But my brother! What excuse can be made for his haughty and morose
temper? He is really, my dear, I am sorry to have occasion to say it,
an ill-temper'd young man; and treats my mother sometimes--Indeed he
is not dutiful.--But, possessing every thing, he has the vice of age,
mingled with the ambition of youth, and enjoys nothing--but his own
haughtiness and ill-temper, I was going to say.--Yet again am I adding
force to your dislikes of some of us.--Once, my dear, it was perhaps
in your power to have moulded him as you pleased.--Could you have been
my sister!--Then had I friend in a sister.--But no wonder that he does
not love you now; who could nip in the bud, and that with a disdain,
let me say, too much of kin to his haughtiness, a passion that would
not have wanted a fervour worthy of the object; and which possibly
would have made him worthy.

But no more of this. I will prosecute my former intention in my next;
which I will sit down to as soon as breakfast is over; dispatching
this by the messenger whom you have so kindly sent to inquire after us
on my silence. Mean time, I am,

Your most affectionate and obliged
friend and servant,
CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER VI

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
HARLOWE-PLACE, JAN. 20.

I will now resume my narrative of proceedings here.--My brother being
in a good way, although you may be sure that his resentments are
rather heightened than abated by the galling disgrace he has received,
my friends (my father and uncles, however, if not my brother and
sister) begin to think that I have been treated unkindly. My mother
been so good as to tell me this since I sent away my last.

Nevertheless I believe they all think that I receive letters from Mr.
Lovelace. But Lord M. being inclined rather to support than to blame
his nephew, they seem to be so much afraid of Mr. Lovelace, that they
do not put it to me whether I do or not; conniving on the contrary, as
it should seem, at the only method left to allay the vehemence of a
spirit which they have so much provoked: For he still insists upon
satisfaction from my uncles; and this possibly (for he wants not art)
as the best way to be introduced again with some advantage into our
family. And indeed my aunt Hervey has put it to my mother, whether it
were not best to prevail upon my brother to take a turn to his
Yorkshire estate (which he was intending to do before) and to stay
there till all is blown over.

But this is very far from being his intention: For he has already
began to hint again, that he shall never be easy or satisfied till I
am married; and, finding neither Mr. Symmes nor Mr. Mullins will be
accepted, has proposed Mr. Wyerley once more, on the score of his
great passion for me. This I have again rejected; and but yesterday
he mentioned one who has applied to him by letter, making high offers.
This is Mr. Solmes; Rich Solmes you know they call him. But this
application has not met with the attention of one single soul.

If none of his schemes of getting me married take effect, he has
thoughts, I am told, of proposing to me to go to Scotland, that as the
compliment is, I may put his house there in such order as our own is
in. But this my mother intends to oppose for her own sake; because
having relieved her, as she is pleased to say, of the household cares
(for which my sister, you know, has no turn) they must again devolve
upon her if I go. And if she did not oppose it, I should; for,
believe me, I have no mind to be his housekeeper; and I am sure, were
I to go with him, I should be treated rather as a servant than a
sister:--perhaps, not the better because I am his sister. And if Mr.
Lovelace should follow me, things might be worse than they are now.

But I have besought my mother, who is apprehensive of Mr. Lovelace's
visits, and for fear of whom my uncles never stir out without arms and
armed servants (my brother also being near well enough to go abroad),
to procure me permission to be your guest for a fortnight, or so.--
Will your mother, think you, my dear, give me leave?

I dare not ask to go to my dairy-house, as my good grandfather would
call it: for I am now afraid of being thought to have a wish to enjoy
that independence to which his will has entitled me: and as matter are
situated, such a wish would be imputed to my regard to the man to whom
they have now so great an antipathy. And indeed could I be as easy
and happy here as I used to be, I would defy that man and all his sex;
and never repent that I have given the power of my fortune into my
father's hands.

***

Just now, my mother has rejoiced me with the news that my requested
permission is granted. Every one thinks it best that I should go to
you, except my brother. But he was told, that he must not expect to
rule in every thing. I am to be sent for into the great parlour,
where are my two uncles and my aunt Hervey, and to be acquainted with
this concession in form.

You know, my dear, that there is a good deal of solemnity among us.
But never was there a family more united in its different branches
than ours. Our uncles consider us as their own children, and declare
that it is for our sakes that they live single. So that they are
advised with upon every article relating to us, or that may affect us.
It is therefore the less wonder, at a time when they understand that
Mr. Lovelace is determined to pay us an amicable visit, as he calls
it, (but which I am sure cannot end amicably,) that they should both
be consulted upon the permission I had desired to attend you.

***

I will acquaint you with what passed at the general leave given me to
be your guest. And yet I know that you will not love my brother the
better for my communication. But I am angry with him myself, and
cannot help it. And besides, it is proper to let you know the terms I
go upon, and their motives for permitting me to go.

Clary, said my mother, as soon as I entered the great parlour, your
request to go to Miss Howe's for a few days has been taken into
consideration, and granted--

Much against my liking, I assure you, said my brother, rudely
interrupting her.

Son James! said my father, and knit his brows.

He was not daunted. His arm was in a sling. He often has the mean
art to look upon that, when any thing is hinted that may be supposed
to lead toward the least favour to or reconciliation with Mr.
Lovelace.--Let the girl then [I am often the girl with him] be
prohibited seeing that vile libertine.

Nobody spoke.

Do you hear, sister Clary? taking their silence for approbation of
what he had dictated; you are not to receive visits from Lord M.'s
nephew.

Every one still remained silent.

Do you so understand the license you have, Miss? interrogated he.

I would be glad, Sir, said I, to understand that you are my brother;--
and that you would understand that you are only my brother.

O the fond, fond heart! with a sneer of insult, lifting up his hands.

Sir, said I, to my father, to your justice I appeal: If I have
deserved reflection, let me be not spared. But if I am to be
answerable for the rashness--

No more!--No more of either side, said my father. You are not to
receive the visits of that Lovelace, though.--Nor are you, son James,
to reflect upon your sister. She is a worthy child.

Sir, I have done, replied he:--and yet I have her honour at heart, as
much as the honour of the rest of the family.

And hence, Sir, retorted I, your unbrotherly reflections upon me?

Well, but you observe, Miss, said he, that it is not I, but your
father, that tells you, that you are not to receive the visits of that
Lovelace.

Cousin Harlowe, said my aunt Hervey, allow me to say, that my cousin
Clary's prudence may be confided in.

I am convinced it may, joined my mother.

But, aunt, but, madam (put in my sister) there is no hurt, I presume,
in letting my sister know the condition she goes to Miss Howe upon;
since, if he gets a nack of visiting her there--

You may be sure, interrupted my uncle Harlowe, he will endeavour to
see her there.

So would such an impudent man here, said my uncle Antony: and 'tis
better done there than here.

Better no where, said my father.--I command you (turning to me) on
pain of displeasure, that you see him not at all.

I will not, Sir, in any way of encouragement, I do assure you: not at
all, if I can properly avoid it.

You know with what indifference, said my mother, she has hitherto seen
him.--Her prudence may be trusted to, as my sister Hervey says.

With what appa--rent indifference, drawled my brother.

Son James! said my father sternly.

I have done, Sir, said he. But again, in a provoking manner, he
reminded me of the prohibition.

Thus ended the conference.

Will you engage, my dear, that the hated man shall not come near your
house?--But what an inconsistence is this, when they consent to my
going, thinking his visits here no otherwise to be avoided!--But if he
does come, I charge you never to leave us alone together.

As I have no reason to doubt a welcome from your good mother, I will
put every thing in order here, and be with you in two or three days.

Mean time, I am
Your most affectionate and obliged,
CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER VII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
[AFTER HER RETURN FROM HER.]
HARLOWE-PLACE, FEB. 20.

I beg your excuse for not writing sooner. Alas! my dear, I have sad
prospects before me! My brother and sister have succeeded in all
their views. They have found out another lover for me; an hideous
one!--Yet he is encouraged by every body. No wonder that I was
ordered home so suddenly. At an hour's warning!--No other notice, you
know, than what was brought with the chariot that was to carry me
back.--It was for fear, as I have been informed [an unworthy fear!]
that I should have entered into any concert with Mr. Lovelace had I
known their motive for commanding me home; apprehending, 'tis evident,
that I should dislike the man they had to propose to me.

And well might they apprehend so:--For who do you think he is?--No
other than that Solmes--Could you have believed it?--And they are all
determined too; my mother with the rest!--Dear, dear excellence! how
could she be thus brought over, when I am assured, that on his first
being proposed she was pleased to say, That had Mr. Solmes the Indies
in possession, and would endow me with them, she should not think him
deserving of her Clarissa!

The reception I met with at my return, so different from what I used
to meet with on every little absence [and now I had been from them
three weeks], convinced me that I was to suffer for the happiness I
had had in your company and conversation for that most agreeable
period. I will give you an account of it.

My brother met me at the door, and gave me his hand when I stepped out
of the chariot. He bowed very low: pray, Miss, favour me.--I thought
it in good humour; but found it afterwards mock respect: and so he led
me in great form, I prattling all the way, inquiring of every body's
health, (although I was so soon to see them, and there was hardly time
for answers,) into the great parlour; where were my father, mother, my
two uncles, and sister.

I was struck all of a heap as soon as I entered, to see a solemnity
which I had been so little used to on the like occasions in the
countenance of every dear relation. They all kept their seats. I ran
to my father, and kneeled: then to my mother: and met from both a cold
salute: From my father a blessing but half pronounced: My mother
indeed called me child; but embraced me not with her usual indulgent
ardour.

After I had paid my duty to my uncles, and my compliments to my
sister, which she received with solemn and stiff form, I was bid to
sit down. But my heart was full: and I said it became me to stand, if
I could stand, upon a reception so awful and unusual. I was forced to
turn my face from them, and pull out my handkerchief.

My unbrotherly accuser hereupon stood forth, and charged me with
having received no less than five or six visits at Miss Howe's from
the man they had all so much reason to hate [that was the expression];
notwithstanding the commands I had had to the contrary. And he bid me
deny it if I could.

I had never been used, I said, to deny the truth, nor would I now. I
owned I had in the three weeks passed seen the person I presumed he
meant oftener than five or six times [Pray hear me, brother, said I;
for he was going to flame out], but he always asked for Mrs. or Miss
Howe, when he came.

I proceeded, that I had reason to believe, that both Mrs. Howe and
Miss, as matters stood, would much rather have excused his visits; but
they had more than once apologized, that having not the same reason my
papa had to forbid him their house, his rank and fortune entitled him
to civility.

You see, my dear, I made not the pleas I might have made.

My brother seemed ready to give a loose to his passion: My father put
on the countenance which always portends a gathering storm: My uncles
mutteringly whispered: And my sister aggravatingly held up her hands.
While I begged to be heard out:--And my mother said, let the child,
that was her kind word, be heard.

I hoped, I said, there was no harm done: that it became not me to
prescribe to Mrs. or Miss Howe who should be their visitors: that Mrs.
Howe was always diverted with the raillery that passed between Miss
and him: that I had no reason to challenge her guest for my visitor,
as I should seem to have done had I refused to go into their company
when he was with them: that I had never seen him out of the presence
of one or both of those ladies; and had signified to him once, on his
urging a few moments' private conversation with me, that, unless a
reconciliation were effected between my family and his, he must not
expect that I would countenance his visits, much less give him an
opportunity of that sort.

I told him further, that Miss Howe so well understood my mind, that
she never left me a moment while Mr. Lovelace was there: that when he
came, if I was not below in the parlour, I would not suffer myself to
be called to him: although I thought it would be an affectation which
would give him an advantage rather than the contrary, if I had left
company when he came in; or refused to enter into it when I found he
would stay any time.

My brother heard me out with such a kind of impatience as shewed he
was resolved to be dissatisfied with me, say what I would. The rest,
as the event has proved, behaved as if they would have been satisfied,
had they not further points to carry by intimidating me. All this
made it evident, as I mentioned above, that they themselves expected
not my voluntary compliance; and was a tacit confession of the
disagreeableness of the person they had to propose.

I was no sooner silent than my brother swore, although in my father's
presence, (swore, unchecked either by eye or countenance,) That for
his part, he would never be reconciled to that libertine: and that he
would renounce me for a sister, if I encouraged the addresses of a man
so obnoxious to them all.

A man who had like to have been my brother's murderer, my sister said,
with a face even bursting with restraint of passion.

The poor Bella has, you know, a plump high-fed face, if I may be
allowed the expression. You, I know, will forgive me for this liberty
of speech sooner than I can forgive myself: Yet how can one be such a
reptile as not to turn when trampled upon!

My father, with vehemence both of action and voice [my father has, you
know, a terrible voice when he is angry] told me that I had met with
too much indulgence in being allowed to refuse this gentleman, and the
other gentleman,; and it was now his turn to be obeyed!

Very true, my mother said:--and hoped his will would not now be
disputed by a child so favoured.

To shew they were all of a sentiment, my uncle Harlowe said, he hoped
his beloved niece only wanted to know her father's will, to obey it.

And my uncle Antony, in his rougher manner, added, that surely I would
not give them reason to apprehend, that I thought my grandfather's
favour to me had made me independent of them all.--If I did, he would
tell me, the will could be set aside, and should.

I was astonished, you must needs think.--Whose addresses now, thought
I, is this treatment preparative to?--Mr. Wyerley's again?--or whose?
And then, as high comparisons, where self is concerned, sooner than
low, come into young people's heads; be it for whom it will, this is
wooing as the English did for the heiress of Scotland in the time of
Edward the Sixth. But that it could be for Solmes, how should it
enter into my head?

I did not know, I said, that I had given occasion for this harshness.
I hoped I should always have a just sense of every one's favour to me,
superadded to the duty I owed as a daughter and a niece: but that I
was so much surprised at a reception so unusual and unexpected, that I
hoped my papa and mamma would give me leave to retire, in order to
recollect myself.

No one gainsaying, I made my silent compliments, and withdrew;--
leaving my brother and sister, as I thought, pleased; and as if they
wanted to congratulate each other on having occasioned so severe a
beginning to be made with me.

I went up to my chamber, and there with my faithful Hannah deplored
the determined face which the new proposal it was plain they had to
make me wore.

I had not recovered myself when I was sent for down to tea. I begged
my maid to be excused attending; but on the repeated command, went
down with as much cheerfulness as I could assume; and had a new fault
to clear myself of: for my brother, so pregnant a thing is determined
ill-will, by intimations equally rude and intelligible, charged my
desire of being excused coming down, to sullens, because a certain
person had been spoken against, upon whom, as he supposed, my fancy
ran.

I could easily answer you, Sir, said I, as such a reflection deserves:
but I forbear. If I do not find a brother in you, you shall have a
sister in me.

Pretty meekness! Bella whisperingly said; looking at my brother, and
lifting up her lip in contempt.

He, with an imperious air, bid me deserve his love, and I should be
sure to have it.

As we sat, my mother, in her admirable manner, expatiated upon
brotherly and sisterly love; indulgently blamed my brother and sister
for having taken up displeasure too lightly against me; and
politically, if I may say so, answered for my obedience to my father's
will.--The it would be all well, my father was pleased to say: Then
they should dote upon me, was my brother's expression: Love me as well
as ever, was my sister's: And my uncles, That I then should be the
pride of their hearts.--But, alas! what a forfeiture of all these must
I make!

This was the reception I had on my return from you.

Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony presented
him to me, as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My
uncle Harlowe in terms equally favourable for him. My father said,
Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe. My mother looked at him,
and looked at me, now-and-then, as he sat near me, I thought with
concern.--I at her, with eyes appealing for pity. At him, when I
could glance at him, with disgust little short of affrightment. While
my brother and sister Mr. Solmes'd him, and Sirr'd--yet such a
wretch!--But I will at present only add, My humble thanks and duty to
your honoured mother (to whom I will particularly write, to express
the grateful sense I have of her goodness to me); and that I am

Your ever obliged,
CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER VIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FEB. 24.

They drive on here at a furious rate. The man lives here, I think.
He courts them, and is more and more a favourite. Such terms, such
settlements! That's the cry.

O my dear, that I had not reason to deplore the family fault,
immensely rich as they all are! But this I may the more unreservedly
say to you, as we have often joined in the same concern: I, for a
father and uncles; you, for a mother; in every other respect,
faultless.

Hitherto, I seem to be delivered over to my brother, who pretends as
great a love to me as ever.

You may believe I have been very sincere with him. But he affects to
rally me, and not to believe it possible, that one so dutiful and
discreet as his sister Clary can resolve to disoblige all her friends.

Indeed, I tremble at the prospect before me; for it is evident that
they are strangely determined.

My father and mother industriously avoid giving me opportunity of
speaking to them alone. They ask not for my approbation, intended, as
it should seem, to suppose me into their will. And with them I shall
hope to prevail, or with nobody. They have not the interest in
compelling me, as my brother and sister have: I say less therefore to
them, reserving my whole force for an audience of my father, if he
will permit me a patient ear. How difficult is it, my dear, to give a
negative where both duty and inclination join to make one wish to
oblige!

I have already stood the shock of three of this man's particular
visits, besides my share in his more general ones; and find it is
impossible I should ever endure him. He has but a very ordinary share
of understanding; is very illiterate; knows nothing but the value of
estates, and how to improve them, and what belongs to land-jobbing and
husbandry. Yet I am as one stupid, I think. They have begun so
cruelly with me, that I have not spirit enough to assert my own
negative.

They had endeavoured it seems to influence my good Mrs. Norton before
I came home--so intent are they to carry their point! And her opinion
not being to their liking, she has been told that she would do well to
decline visiting here for the present: yet she is the person of all
the world, next to my mother, the most likely to prevail upon me, were
the measures they are engaged in reasonable measures, or such as she
could think so.

My aunt likewise having said that she did not think her niece could
ever be brought to like Mr. Solmes, has been obliged to learn another
lesson.

I am to have a visit from her to-morrow. And, since I have refused so
much as to hear from my brother and sister what the noble settlements
are to be, she is to acquaint me with the particulars; and to receive
from me my determination: for my father, I am told, will not have
patience but to suppose that I shall stand in opposition to his will.

Mean time it has been signified to me, that it will be acceptable if I
do not think of going to church next Sunday.

The same signification was made for me last Sunday; and I obeyed.
They are apprehensive that Mr. Lovelace will be there with design to
come home with me.

Help me, dear Miss Howe, to a little of your charming spirit: I never
more wanted it.

The man, this Solmes, you may suppose, has no reason to boast of his
progress with me. He has not the sense to say any thing to the
purpose. His courtship indeed is to them; and my brother pretends to
court me as his proxy, truly!--I utterly, to my brother, reject his
address; but thinking a person, so well received and recommended by
all my family, entitled to good manners, all I say against him is
affectedly attributed to coyness: and he, not being sensible of his
own imperfections, believes that my avoiding him when I can, and the
reserves I express, are owing to nothing else: for, as I said, all his
courtship is to them; and I have no opportunity of saying no, to one
who asks me not the question. And so, with an air of mannish
superiority, he seems rather to pity the bashful girl, than to
apprehend that he shall not succeed.

FEBRUARY 25.

I have had the expected conference with my aunt.

I have been obliged to hear the man's proposals from her; and have
been told also what their motives are for espousing his interest with
so much warmth. I am even loth to mention how equally unjust it is
for him to make such offers, or for those I am bound to reverence to
accept of them. I hate him more than before. One great estate is
already obtained at the expense of the relations to it, though distant
relations; my brother's, I mean, by his godmother: and this has given
the hope, however chimerical that hope, of procuring others; and that
my own at least may revert to the family. And yet, in my opinion, the
world is but one great family. Originally it was so. What then is
this narrow selfishness that reigns in us, but relationship remembered
against relationship forgot?

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