Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9)
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Samuel Richardson >> Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9)
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My aunt then just coming down to me, and taking my hand led me up; and
tried to sooth me.
My raving was turned into sullenness.
She preached patience and obedience to me.
I was silent.
At last she desired me to assure her, that I would offer no violence to
myself.
God, I said, had given me more grace, I hoped, than to permit me to be
guilty of so horrid a rashness, I was his creature, and not my own.
She then took leave of me; and I insisted upon her taking down with her
the odious parchments.
Seeing me in so ill an humour, and very earnest that she should take them
with her, she took them; but said, that my father should not know that
she did: and hoped I would better consider of the matter, and be calmer
next time they were offered to my perusal.
I revolved after she was gone all that my brother and sister had said. I
dwelt upon their triumphings over me; and found rise in my mind a rancour
that was new to me; and which I could not withstand.--And putting every
thing together, dreading the near day, what could I do?--Am I in any
manner excusable for what I did do?--If I shall be condemned by the
world, who know not my provocations, may I be acquitted by you?--If not,
I am unhappy indeed!--for this I did.
Having shaken off the impertinent Betty, I wrote to Mr. Lovelace, to let
him know, 'That all that was threatened at my uncle Antony's, was
intended to be executed here. That I had come to a resolution to throw
myself upon the protection of either of his two aunts, who would afford
it me--in short, that by endeavouring to obtain leave on Monday to dine
in the ivy summer-house, I would, if possible, meet him without the
garden-door, at two, three, four, or five o'clock on Monday afternoon, as
I should be able. That in the mean time he should acquaint me, whether I
might hope for either of those ladies' protection: and if I might, I
absolutely insisted that he should leave me with either, and go to London
himself, or remain at Lord M.'s; nor offer to visit me, till I were
satisfied that nothing could be done with my friends in an amicable way;
and that I could not obtain possession of my own estate, and leave to
live upon it: and particularly, that he should not hint marriage to me,
till I consented to hear him upon that subject.--I added, that if he
could prevail upon one of the Misses Montague to favour me with her
company on the road, it would make me abundantly more easy in the
thoughts of carrying into effect a resolution which I had not come to,
although so driven, but with the utmost reluctance and concern; and which
would throw such a slur upon my reputation in the eye of the world, as
perhaps I should never be able to wipe off.'
This was the purport of what I wrote; and down into the garden I slid
with it in the dark, which at another time I should not have had the
courage to do; and deposited it, and came up again unknown to any body.
My mind so dreadfully misgave me when I returned, that, to divert in some
measure my increasing uneasiness, I had recourse to my private pen; and
in a very short time ran this length.
And now, that I am come to this part, my uneasy reflections begin again
to pour in upon me. Yet what can I do?--I believe I shall take it back
again the first thing in the morning--Yet what can I do?
And who knows but they may have a still earlier day in their intention,
than that which will too soon come?
I hope to deposit this early in the morning for you, as I shall return
from resuming my letter, if I do resume it as my inwardest mind bids me.
Although it is now near two o'clock, I have a good mind to slide down
once more, in order to take back my letter. Our doors are always locked
and barred up at eleven; but the seats of the lesser hall-windows being
almost even with the ground without, and the shutters not difficult to
open, I could easily get out.
Yet why should I be thus uneasy, since, should the letter go, I can but
hear what Mr. Lovelace says to it? His aunts live at too great a
distance for him to have an immediate answer from them; so I can scruple
going to them till I have invitation. I can insist upon one of his
cousins meeting me in the chariot; and may he not be able to obtain that
favour from either of them. Twenty things may happen to afford me a
suspension at least: Why should I be so very uneasy?--When likewise I can
take back my letter early, before it is probable he will have the thought
of finding it there. Yet he owns he spends three parts of his days, and
has done for this fortnight past, in loitering about sometimes in one
disguise, sometimes in another, besides the attendance given by his
trusty servant when he himself is not in waiting, as he calls it.
But these strange forebodings!--Yet I can, if you advise, cause the
chariot he shall bring with him, to carry me directly to town, whither in
my London scheme, if you were to approve it, I had proposed to go: and
this will save you the trouble of procuring for me a vehicle; as well as
prevent any suspicion from your mother of your contributing to my escape.
But, solicitous of your advice, and approbation too, if I can have it, I
will put an end to this letter.
Adieu, my dearest friend, adieu!
LETTER XL
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY MORNING, SEVEN O'CLOCK, APRIL 7.
My aunt Hervey, who is a very early riser, was walking in the garden
(Betty attending her, as I saw from my window this morning) when I arose:
for after such a train of fatigue and restless nights, I had unhappily
overslept myself: so all I durst venture upon, was, to step down to my
poultry-yard, and deposit mine of yesterday, and last night. And I am
just come up; for she is still in the garden. This prevents me from
going to resume my letter, as I think still to do; and hope it will not
be too late.
I said, I had unhappily overslept myself: I went to bed about half an
hour after two. I told the quarters till five; after which I dropt
asleep, and awaked not till past six, and then in great terror, from a
dream, which has made such an impression upon me, that, slightly as I
think of dreams, I cannot help taking this opportunity to relate it to
you.
'Methought my brother, my uncle Antony, and Mr. Solmes, had formed a plot
to destroy Mr. Lovelace; who discovering it, and believing I had a hand
in it, turned all his rage against me. I thought he made them all fly to
foreign parts upon it; and afterwards seizing upon me, carried me into a
church-yard; and there, notwithstanding, all my prayers and tears, and
protestations of innocence, stabbed me to the heart, and then tumbled me
into a deep grave ready dug, among two or three half-dissolved carcases;
throwing in the dirt and earth upon me with his hands, and trampling it
down with his feet.'
I awoke in a cold sweat, trembling, and in agonies; and still the
frightful images raised by it remain upon my memory.
But why should I, who have such real evils to contend with, regard
imaginary ones? This, no doubt, was owing to my disturbed imagination;
huddling together wildly all the frightful idea which my aunt's
communications and discourse, my letter to Mr. Lovelace, my own
uneasiness upon it, and the apprehensions of the dreaded Wednesday,
furnished me with.
***
EIGHT O'CLOCK.
The man, my dear, has got the letter!--What a strange diligence! I wish
he mean me well, that he takes so much pains!--Yet, to be ingenuous, I
must own, that I should be displeased if he took less--I wish, however,
he had been an hundred miles off!--What an advantage have I given him
over me!
Now the letter is out of my power, I have more uneasiness and regret than
I had before. For, till now, I had a doubt, whether it should or should
not go: and now I think it ought not to have gone. And yet is there any
other way than to do as I have done, if I would avoid Solmes? But what a
giddy creature shall I be thought, if I pursue the course to which this
letter must lead me?
My dearest friend, tell me, have I done wrong?--Yet do not say I have, if
you think it; for should all the world besides condemn me, I shall have
some comfort, if you do not. The first time I ever besought you to
flatter me. That, of itself, is an indication that I have done wrong,
and am afraid of hearing the truth--O tell me (but yet do not tell me) if
I have done wrong!
***
FRIDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK.
My aunt has made me another visit. She began what she had to say with
letting me know that my friends are all persuaded that I still correspond
with Mr. Lovelace; as is plain, she said, by hints and menaces he throws
out, which shew that he is apprized of several things that have passed
between my relations and me, sometimes within a very little while after
they have happened.
Although I approve not of the method he stoops to take to come at his
intelligence, yet it is not prudent in me to clear myself by the ruin of
the corrupted servant, (although his vileness has neither my connivance
nor approbation,) since my doing so might occasion the detection of my
own correspondence; and so frustrate all the hopes I have to avoid this
Solmes. Yet it is not at all likely, that this very agent of Mr.
Lovelace acts a double part between my brother and him: How else can our
family know (so soon too) his menaces upon the passages they hint at?
I assured my aunt, that I was too much ashamed of the treatment I met
with (and that from every one's sake as well as for my own) to acquaint
Mr. Lovelace with the particulars of that treatment, even were the means
of corresponding with him afforded me: that I had reason to think, that
if he were to know of it from me, we must be upon such terms, that he
would not scruple making some visits, which would give me great
apprehensions. They all knew, I said, that I had no communication with
any of my father's servants, except my sister's Betty Barnes: for
although I had a good opinion of them all, and believed, if left to their
own inclinations, that they would be glad to serve me; yet, finding by
their shy behaviour, that they were under particular direction, I had
forborn, ever since my Hannah had been so disgracefully dismissed, so
much as to speak to any of them, for fear I should be the occasion of
their losing their places too. They must, therefore, account among
themselves for the intelligence Mr. Lovelace met with, since neither my
brother nor sister, (as Betty had frequently, in praise of their open
hearts, informed me,) nor perhaps their favourite Mr. Solmes, were all
careful before whom they spoke, when they had any thing to throw out
against him, or even against me, whom they took great pride to join with
him on this occasion.
It was but too natural, my aunt said, for my friends to suppose that he
had his intelligence (part of it at least) from me; who, thinking
yourself hardly treated, might complain of it, if not to him, to Miss
Howe; which, perhaps, might be the same thing; for they knew Miss Howe
spoke as freely of them, as they could do of Mr. Lovelace; and must have
the particulars she spoke of from somebody who knew what was done here.
That this determined my father to bring the whole matter to a speedy
issue, lest fatal consequences should ensue.
I perceive you are going to speak with warmth, proceeded she: [and so I
was] for my own part I am sure, you would not write any thing, if you do
write, to inflame so violent a spirit.--But this is not the end of my
present visit.
You cannot, my dear, but be convinced, that your father will be obeyed.
The more you contend against his will, the more he thinks himself obliged
to assert his authority. Your mother desires me to tell you, that if you
will give her the least hopes of a dutiful compliance, she will be
willing to see you in her closet just now, while your father is gone to
take a walk in the garden.
Astonishing perseverance! said I--I am tired with making declarations and
with pleadings on this subject; and had hoped, that my resolution being
so well known, I should not have been further urged upon it.
You mistake the purport of my present visit, Miss: [looking gravely]--
Heretofore you have been desired and prayed to obey and oblige your
friends. Entreaty is at an end: they give it up. Now it is resolved
upon, that your father's will is to be obeyed; as it is fit it should.
Some things are laid at your door, as if you concurred with Lovelace's
threatened violence to carry you off, which your mother will not believe.
She will tell you her own good opinion of you. She will tell you how
much she still loves you; and what she expects of you on the approaching
occasion. But yet, that she may not be exposed to an opposition which
would the more provoke her, she desires that you will first assure her
that you go down with a resolution to do that with a grace which must be
done with or without a grace. And besides, she wants to give you some
advice how to proceed in order to reconcile yourself to your father, and
to every body else. Will you go down, Miss Clary, or will you not?
I said, I should think myself happy, could I be admitted to my mother's
presence, after so long a banishment from it; but that I could not wish
it upon those terms.
And this is your answer, Niece?
It must be my answer, Madam. Come what may, I never will have Mr.
Solmes. It is cruel to press this matter so often upon me.--I never will
have that man.
Down she went with displeasure. I could not help it. I was quite tired
with so many attempts, all to the same purpose. I am amazed that they
are not!--So little variation! and no concession on either side!
I will go down and deposit this; for Betty has seen I have been writing.
The saucy creature took a napkin, and dipt it in water, and with a
fleering air, here, Miss; holding the wet corner to me.
What's that for? said I.
Only, Miss, one of the fingers of your right-hand, if you please to look
at it.
It was inky.
I gave her a look; but said nothing.
But, lest I should have another search, I will close here.
CL. HARLOWE.
LETTER XLI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY, ONE O'CLOCK.
I have a letter from Mr. Lovelace, full of transports, vows, and
promises. I will send it to you enclosed. You'll see how 'he engages in
it for Lady Betty's protection, and for Miss Charlotte Montague's
accompanying me. I have nothing to do, but to persevere, he says, and
prepare to receive the personal congratulations of his whole family.'
But you'll see how he presumes upon my being his, as the consequence of
throwing myself into that lady's protection.
'The chariot and six is to be ready at the place he mentions. You'll see
as to the slur upon my reputation, about which I am so apprehensive, how
boldly he argues.' Generously enough, indeed, were I to be his; and had
given him to believe that I would.--But that I have not done.
How one step brings on another with this encroaching sex; how soon a
young creature, who gives a man the least encouragement, be carried
beyond her intentions, and out of her own power! You would imagine, by
what he writes, that I have given him reason to think that my aversion to
Mr. Solmes is all owing to my favour for him.
The dreadful thing is, that comparing what he writes from his
intelligencer of what is designed against me (though he seems not to know
the threatened day) with what my aunt and Betty assure me of, there can
be no hope for me, but that I must be Solmes's wife, if I stay here.
I had better have gone to my uncle Antony's at this rate. I should have
gained time, at least, by it. This is the fruit of his fine
contrivances!
'What we are to do, and how good he is to be: how I am to direct all his
future steps.' All this shews, as I said before, that he is sure of me.
However, I have replied to the following effect: 'That although I had
given him room to expect that I would put myself into the protection of
one of the ladies of his family; yet as I have three days to come,
between this and Monday, and as I still hope that my friends will relent,
or that Mr. Solmes will give up a point they will find impossible to
carry; I shall not look upon myself as absolutely bound by the
appointment: and expect therefore, if I recede, that I shall not again be
called to account for it by him. That I think it necessary to acquaint
him, that if my throwing myself upon Lady Betty Lawrance's protection, as
he proposed, he understands, that I mean directly to put myself into his
power, he is very much mistaken: for that there are many point in which I
must be satisfied; several matters to be adjusted, even after I have left
this house, (if I do leave it,) before I can think of giving him any
particular encouragement: that in the first place he must expect that I
will do my utmost to procure my father's reconciliation and approbation
of my future steps; and that I will govern myself entirely by his
commands, in every reasonable point, as much as if I had not left his
house: that if he imagines I shall not reserve to myself this liberty,
but that my withdrawing is to give him any advantages which he would not
otherwise have had; I am determined to stay where I am, and abide the
event, in hopes that my friends will still accept of my reiterated
promise never to marry him, or any body else, without their consent.
This I will deposit as soon as I can. And as he thinks things are near
their crisis, I dare say it will not be long before I have an answer to
it.
FRIDAY, FOUR O'CLOCK.
I am really ill. I was used to make the best of any little accidents
that befel me, for fear of making my then affectionate friends uneasy:
but now I shall make the worst of my indisposition, in hopes to obtain
a suspension of the threatened evil of Wednesday next. And if I do
obtain it, will postpone my appointment with Mr. Lovelace.
Betty has told them that I am very much indisposed. But I have no pity
from any body.
I believe I am become the object of every one's aversion; and that they
would all be glad if I were dead. Indeed I believe it. 'What ails the
perverse creature?' cries one:--'Is she love-sick?' another.
I was in the ivy summer-house, and came out shivering with cold, as if
aguishly affected. Betty observed this, and reported it.--'O no matter!
--Let her shiver on!--Cold cannot hurt her. Obstinacy will defend her
from harm. Perverseness is a bracer to a love-sick girl, and more
effectual than the cold bath to make hardy, although the constitution be
ever so tender.'
This was said by a cruel brother, and heard said by the dearer friends of
one, for whom, but a few months ago, every body was apprehensive at the
least blast of wind to which she exposed herself!
Betty, it must be owned, has an admirable memory on these occasions.
Nothing of this nature is lost by her repetition: even the very air with
which she repeats what she hears said, renders it unnecessary to ask, who
spoke this or that severe thing.
FRIDAY, SIX O'CLOCK.
My aunt, who again stays all night, just left me. She came to tell me
the result of my friends' deliberations about me. It is this:
Next Wednesday morning they are all to be assembled: to wit, my father,
mother, my uncles, herself, and my uncle Hervey; my brother and sister of
course: my good Mrs. Norton is likewise to be admitted: and Dr. Lewen is
to be at hand, to exhort me, it seems, if there be occasion: but my aunt
is not certain whether he is to be among them, or to tarry till called
in.
When this awful court is assembled, the poor prisoner is to be brought
in, supported by Mrs. Norton; who is to be first tutored to instruct me
in the duty of a child; which it seems I have forgotten.
Nor is the success at all doubted, my aunt says: since it is not believed
that I can be hardened enough to withstand the expostulations of so
venerable a judicature, although I have withstood those of several of
them separately. And still the less, as she hints at extraordinary
condescensions from my father. But what condescensions, even from my
father, can induce me to make such a sacrifice as is expected from me?
Yet my spirits will never bear up, I doubt, at such a tribunal--my father
presiding in it.
Indeed I expected that my trials would not be at an end till he had
admitted me into his awful presence.
What is hoped from me, she says, is, that I will cheerfully, on Tuesday
night, if not before, sign the articles; and so turn the succeeding day's
solemn convention into a day of festivity. I am to have the license sent
me up, however, and once more the settlements, that I may see how much in
earnest they are.
She further hinted, that my father himself would bring up the settlements
for me to sign.
O my dear! what a trial will this be!--How shall I be able to refuse my
father the writing of my name?--To my father, from whose presence I have
been so long banished!--He commanding and entreating, perhaps, in a
breath!--How shall I be able to refuse this to my father?
They are sure, she says, something is working on Mr. Lovelace's part, and
perhaps on mine: and my father would sooner follow to the grave, than see
me his wife.
I said, I was not well: that the very apprehensions of these trials were
already insupportable to me; and would increase upon me, as the time
approached; and I was afraid I should be extremely ill.
They had prepared themselves for such an artifice as that, was my aunt's
unkind word; and she could assure me, it would stand me in no stead.
Artifice! repeated I: and this from my aunt Hervey?
Why, my dear, said she, do you think people are fools?--Can they not see
how dismally you endeavour to sigh yourself down within-doors?--How you
hang down your sweet face [those were the words she was pleased to use]
upon your bosom?--How you totter, as it were, and hold by this chair, and
by that door post, when you know that any body sees you? [This, my dear
Miss Howe, is an aspersion to fasten hypocrisy and contempt upon me: my
brother's or sister's aspersion!--I am not capable of arts so low.] But
the moment you are down with your poultry, or advancing upon your garden-
walk, and, as you imagine, out of every body's sight, it is seem how
nimbly you trip along; and what an alertness governs all your motions.
I should hate myself, said I, were I capable of such poor artifices as
these. I must be a fool to use them, as well as a mean creature; for
have I not had experience enough, that my friends are incapable of being
moved in much more affecting instances?--But you'll see how I shall be
by Tuesday.
My dear, you will not offer any violence to your health?--I hope, God has
given you more grace than to do that.
I hope he has, Madam. But there is violence enough offered, and
threatened, to affect my health; and so it will be found, without my
needing to have recourse to any other, or to artifice either.
I'll only tell you one thing, my dear: and that is, ill or well, the
ceremony will probably be performed before Wednesday night:--but this,
also, I will tell you, although beyond my present commission, That Mr.
Solmes will be under an engagement (if you should require it of him as
a favour) after the ceremony is passed, and Lovelace's hopes thereby
utterly extinguished, to leave you at your father's, and return to his
own house every evening, until you are brought to a full sense of your
duty, and consent to acknowledge your change of name.
There was no opening of my lips to such a speech as this. I was dumb.
And these, my dear Miss Howe, are they who, some of them at least, have
called me a romantic girl!--This is my chimerical brother, and wise
sister; both joining their heads together, I dare say. And yet, my aunt
told me, that the last part was what took in my mother: who had, till
that last expedient was found out, insisted, that her child should not be
married, if, through grief or opposition, she should be ill, or fall into
fits.
This intended violence my aunt often excused, by the certain information
they pretended to have, of some plots or machinations, that were ready to
break out, from Mr. Lovelace:* the effects of which were thus cunningly
to be frustrated.
* It may not be amiss to observe in this place, that Mr. Lovelace
artfully contrived to drive the family on, by permitting his and their
agent Leman to report machinations, which he had neither intention nor
power to execute.
FRIDAY, NINE O'CLOCK.
And now, my dear, what shall I conclude upon? You see how determined--
But how can I expect your advice will come time enough to stand me in any
stead? For here I have been down, and already have another letter from
Mr. Lovelace [the man lives upon the spot, I think:] and I must write to
him, either that I will or will not stand to my first resolution of
escaping hence on Monday next. If I let him know that I will not,
(appearances so strong against him and for Solmes, even stronger than
when I made the appointment,) will it not be justly deemed my own fault,
if I am compelled to marry their odious man? And if any mischief ensue
from Mr. Lovelace's rage and disappointment, will it not lie at my door?
--Yet, he offers so fair!--Yet, on the other hand, to incur the censure
of the world, as a giddy creature--but that, as he hints, I have already
incurred--What can I do?--Oh! that my cousin Morden--But what signifies
wishing?
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