Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9)

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Your injured sister,
CL. HARLOWE.

When, my dear, you have read my answer to my brother's letter, tell me
what you think of me?--It shall go!

LETTER VII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 23.

My letter has set them all in tumults: for, it seems, none of them went
home last night; and they all were desired to be present to give their
advice, if I should refuse compliance with a command thought so
reasonable as it seems this is.

Betty tells me, that at first my father, in a rage, was for coming up to
me himself, and for turning me out of his doors directly. Nor was he
restrained, till it was hinted to him, that that was no doubt my wish,
and would answer all my perverse views. But the result was, that my
brother (having really, as my mother and aunt insisted, taken wrong
measures with me) should write again in a more moderate manner: for
nobody else was permitted or cared to write to such a ready scribbler.
And, I having declared, that I would not receive any more of his letters,
without command from a superior authority, my mother was to give it hers:
and accordingly has done so in the following lines, written on the
superscription of his letter to me: which letter also follows; together
with my reply.

CLARY HARLOWE,

Receive and read this, with the temper that becomes your sex, your
character, your education, and your duty: and return an answer to it,
directed to your brother.

CHARLOTTE HARLOWE.

TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE
THURSDAY MORNING.

Once more I write, although imperiously prohibited by a younger sister.
Your mother will have me do so, that you may be destitute of all
defence, if you persist in your pervicacy. Shall I be a pedant, Miss,
for this word? She is willing to indulge in you the least appearance of
that delicacy for which she once, as well as every body else, admired you
--before you knew Lovelace; I cannot, however, help saying that: and she,
and your aunt Hervey, will have it--[they would fain favour you, if they
could] that I may have provoked from you the answer they nevertheless own
to be so exceedingly unbecoming. I am now learning, you see, to take up
the softer language, where you have laid it down. This then is the case:

They entreat, they pray, they beg, they supplicate (will either of these
do, Miss Clary?) that you will make no scruple to go to your uncle
Antony's: and fairly I am to tell you, for the very purpose mentioned in
my last--or, 'tis presumable, they need not entreat, beg, pray,
supplicate. Thus much is promised to Mr. Solmes, who is your advocate,
and very uneasy that you should be under constraint, supposing that your
dislike to him arises from that. And, if he finds that you are not to be
moved in his favour, when you are absolutely freed from what you call a
controul, he will forbear thinking of you, whatever it costs him. He
loves you too well: and in this, I really think, his understanding, which
you have reflected upon, is to be questioned.

Only for one fornight [sic], therefore, permit his visits. Your
education (you tell me of mine, you know) ought to make you incapable of
rudeness to any body. He will not, I hope, be the first man, myself
excepted, whom you ever treated rudely, purely because he is esteemed by
us all. I am, what you have a mind to make me, friend, brother, or
servant--I wish I could be still more polite, to so polite, to so
delicate, a sister.

JA. HARLOWE.

You must still write to me, if you condescend to reply. Your mother will
not be permitted to be disturbed with your nothing-meaning vocatives!--
Vocatives, once more, Madam Clary, repeats the pedant your brother!

***

TO JAMES HARLOWE, JUNIOR, ESQ.

Permit me, my ever-dear and honoured Papa and Mamma, in this manner to
surprise you into an audience, (presuming this will be read to you,)
since I am denied the honour of writing to you directly. Let me beg of
you to believe, that nothing but the most unconquerable dislike could
make me stand against your pleasure. What are riches, what are
settlements, to happiness? Let me not thus cruelly be given up to a man
my very soul is averse to. Permit me to repeat, that I cannot honestly
be his. Had I a slighter notion of the matrimonial duty than I have,
perhaps I might. But when I am to bear all the misery, and that for
life; when my heart is less concerned in this matter, than my soul; my
temporary, perhaps, than my future good; why should I be denied the
liberty of refusing? That liberty is all I ask.

It were easy for me to give way to hear Mr. Solmes talk for the mentioned
fortnight, although it is impossible for me, say what he would, to get
over my dislike to him. But the moated-house, the chapel there, and the
little mercy my brother and sister, who are to be there, have hitherto
shewn me, are what I am extremely apprehensive of. And why does my
brother say, my restraint is to be taken off, (and that too at Mr.
Solmes's desire,) when I am to be a still closer prisoner than before;
the bridge threatened to be drawn up; and no dear papa and mamma near me,
to appeal to, in the last resort?

Transfer not, I beseech you, to a brother and sister your own authority
over your child--to a brother and sister, who treat me with unkindness
and reproach; and, as I have too much reason to apprehend, misrepresent
my words and behaviour; or, greatly favoured as I used to be, it is
impossible I should be sunk so low in your opinions, as I unhappily am!

Let but this my hard, my disgraceful confinement be put an end to.
Permit me, my dear Mamma, to pursue my needleworks in your presence, as
one of your maidens; and you shall be witness, that it is not either
wilfulness or prepossession that governs me. Let me not, however, be put
out of your own house. Let Mr. Solmes come and go, as my papa pleases:
let me but stay or retire when he comes, as I can; and leave the rest to
Providence.

Forgive me, Brother, that thus, with an appearance of art, I address
myself to my father and mother, to whom I am forbidden to approach, or to
write. Hard it is to be reduced to such a contrivance! Forgive likewise
the plain dealing I have used in the above, with the nobleness of a
gentleman, and the gentleness due from a brother to a sister. Although
of late you have given me but little room to hope either for your favour
or compassion; yet, having not deserved to forfeit either, I presume to
claim both: for I am confident it is at present much in your power,
although but my brother (my honoured parents both, I bless God, in
being), to give peace to the greatly disturbed mind of

Your unhappy sister,
CL. HARLOWE.

Betty tells me, my brother has taken my letter all in pieces; and has
undertaken to write such an answer to it, as shall confirm the wavering.
So, it is plain, that I should have moved somebody by it, but for this
hard-hearted brother--God forgive him!

LETTER VIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
THURSDAY NIGHT, MARCH 23.

I send you the boasted confutation-letter, just now put into my hands.
My brother and sister, my uncle Antony and Mr. Solmes, are, I
understand, exulting over the copy of it below, as an unanswerable
performance.

TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE

Once again, my inflexible Sister, I write to you. It is to let you know,
that the pretty piece of art you found out to make me the vehicle of your
whining pathetics to your father and mother, has not had the expected
effect.

I do assure you, that your behaviour has not been misrepresented--nor
need it. Your mother, who is solicitous to take all opportunities of
putting the most favourable constructions upon all you do, has been
forced, as you well know, to give you up, upon full trial. No need then
of the expedient of pursuing your needleworks in her sight. She cannot
bear your whining pranks: and it is for her sake, that you are not
permitted to come into her presence--nor will be, but upon her own terms.

You had like to have made a simpleton of your aunt Hervey yesterday: she
came down from you, pleading in your favour. But when she was asked,
What concession she had brought you to? she looked about her, and knew
not what to answer. So your mother, when surprised into the beginning of
your cunning address to her and to your father, under my name, (for I had
begun to read it, little suspecting such an ingenious subterfuge,)and
would then make me read it through, wrung her hands, Oh! her dear child,
her dear child, must not be so compelled!--But when she was asked,
Whether she would be willing to have for her son-in-law the man who bids
defiance to her whole family; and who had like to have murdered her son?
And what concession she had gained from her dear child to merit this
tenderness? And that for one who had apparently deceived her in assuring
her that her heart was free?--Then could she look about her, as her
sister had done before: then was she again brought to herself, and to a
resolution to assert her authority [not to transfer it, witty presumer!]
over the rebel, who of late has so ungratefully struggled to throw it
off.

You seem, child, to have a high notion of the matrimonial duty; and I'll
warrant, like the rest of your sex, (one or two, whom I have the honour
to know, excepted,) that you will go to church to promise what you will
never think of afterwards. But, sweet child! as your worthy Mamma Norton
calls you, think a little less of the matrimonial, (at least, till you
come into that state,) and a little more of the filial duty.

How can you say, you are to bear all the misery, when you give so large a
share of it to your parents, to your uncles, to your aunt, to myself, and
to your sister; who all, for eighteen years of your life, loved you so
well?

If of late I have not given you room to hope for my favour or compassion,
it is because of late you have not deserved either. I know what you
mean, little reflecting fool, by saying, it is much in my power, although
but your brother, (a very slight degree of relationship with you,) to
give you that peace which you can give yourself whenever you please.

The liberty of refusing, pretty Miss, is denied you, because we are all
sensible, that the liberty of choosing, to every one's dislike, must
follow. The vile wretch you have set your heart upon speaks this plainly
to every body, though you won't. He says you are his, and shall be his,
and he will be the death of any man who robs him of his PROPERTY. So,
Miss, we have a mind to try this point with him. My father, supposing he
has the right of a father in his child, is absolutely determined not to
be bullied out of that right. And what must that child be, who prefers
the rake to a father?

This is the light in which this whole debate ought to be taken. Blush,
then, Delicacy, that cannot bear the poet's amor omnibus idem!--Blush,
then, Purity! Be ashamed, Virgin Modesty! And, if capable of
conviction, surrender your whole will to the will of the honoured pair,
to whom you owe your being: and beg of all your friends to forgive and
forget the part you have of late acted.

I have written a longer letter than ever I designed to write to you,
after the insolent treatment and prohibition you have given me: and, now
I am commissioned to tell you, that your friends are as weary of
confining you, as you are of being confined. And therefore you must
prepare yourself to go in a very few days, as you have been told before,
to your uncle Antony's; who, notwithstanding you apprehensions, will draw
up his bridge when he pleases; will see what company he pleases in his
own house; nor will he demolish his chapel to cure you of your foolish
late-commenced antipathy to a place of divine worship.--The more foolish,
as, if we intended to use force, we could have the ceremony pass in your
chamber, as well as any where else.

Prejudice against Mr. Solmes has evidently blinded you, and there is a
charitable necessity to open your eyes: since no one but you thinks the
gentleman so contemptible in his person; nor, for a plain country
gentleman, who has too much solid sense to appear like a coxcomb, justly
blamable in his manners.--And as to his temper, it is necessary you
should speak upon fuller knowledge, than at present it is plain you can
have of him.

Upon the whole, it will not be amiss, that you prepare for your speedy
removal, as well for the sake of your own conveniency, as to shew your
readiness, in one point, at least, to oblige your friends; one of whom
you may, if you please to deserve it, reckon, though but a brother,

JAMES HARLOWE.

P.S. If you are disposed to see Mr. Solmes, and to make some excuses to
him for past conduct, in order to be able to meet him somewhere else with
the less concern to yourself for your freedoms with him, he shall attend
you where you please.

If you have a mind to read the settlements, before they are read to you
for your signing, they shall be sent you up--Who knows, but they will
help you to some fresh objections?--Your heart is free, you know--It
must--For, did you not tell your mother it was? And will the pious
Clarissa fib to her mamma?

I desire no reply. The case requires none. Yet I will ask you, Have you,
Miss, no more proposals to make?

***

I was so vexed when I came to the end of this letter, (the postscript to
which, perhaps, might be written after the others had seen the letter,)
that I took up my pen, with an intent to write to my uncle Harlowe about
resuming my own estate, in pursuance of your advice. But my heart failed
me, when I recollected, that I had not one friend to stand by or support
me in my claim; and it would but the more incense them, without answering
any good end. Oh! that my cousin were but come!

Is it not a sad thing, beloved as I thought myself so lately by every
one, that now I have not one person in the world to plead for me, to
stand by me, or who would afford me refuge, were I to be under the
necessity of asking for it!--I who had the vanity to think I had as many
friends as I saw faces, and flattered myself too, that it was not
altogether unmerited, because I saw not my Maker's image, either in man,
woman, or child, high or low, rich or poor, whom, comparatively, I loved
not as myself.--Would to heaven, my dear, that you were married!
Perhaps, then, you could have induced Mr. Hickman to afford me
protection, till these storms were over-blown. But then this might have
involved him in difficulties and dangers; and that I would not have done
for the world.

I don't know what to do, not I!--God forgive me, but I am very impatient!
I wish--But I don't know what to wish, without a sin!--Yet I wish it
would please God to take me to his mercy!--I can meet with none here--
What a world is this!--What is there in it desirable? The good we hope
for, so strangely mixed, that one knows not what to wish for! And one
half of mankind tormenting the other, and being tormented themselves in
tormenting!--For here is this my particular case, my relations cannot be
happy, though they make me unhappy!--Except my brother and sister, indeed
--and they seem to take delight in and enjoy the mischief they make.

But it is time to lay down my pen, since my ink runs nothing but gall.

LETTER IX

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY MORNING, SIX O'CLOCK

Mrs. Betty tells me, there is now nothing talked of but of my going to
my uncle Antony's. She has been ordered, she says, to get ready to
attend me thither: and, upon my expressing my averseness to go, had the
confidence to say, That having heard me often praise the romanticness of
the place, she was astonished (her hands and eyes lifted up) that I
should set myself against going to a house so much in my taste.

I asked if this was her own insolence, or her young mistress's
observation?

She half-astonished me by her answer: That it was hard she could not say
a good thing, without being robbed of the merit of it.

As the wench looked as if she really thought she had said a good thing,
without knowing the boldness of it, I let it pass. But, to say the
truth, this creature has surprised me on many occasions with her
smartness: for, since she has been employed in this controuling office, I
have discovered a great deal of wit in her assurance, which I never
suspected before. This shews, that insolence is her talent: and that
Fortune, in placing her as a servant to my sister, had not done so kindly
by her as Nature; for that she would make a better figure as her
companion. And indeed I can't help thinking sometimes, that I myself was
better fitted by Nature to be the servant of both, than the mistress of
the one, or the servant of the other. And within these few months past,
Fortune has acted by me, as if she were of the same mind.

FRIDAY, TEN O'CLOCK

Going down to my poultry-yard, just now, I heard my brother and sister
and that Solmes laughing and triumphing together. The high yew-hedge
between us, which divides the yard from the garden, hindered them from
seeing me.

My brother, as I found, has been reading part, or the whole perhaps, of
the copy of his last letter--Mighty prudent, and consistent, you'll say,
with their views to make me the wife of a man from whom they conceal not
what, were I to be such, it would be kind in them to endeavour to
conceal, out of regard to my future peace!--But I have no doubt, that
they hate me heartily.

Indeed, you was up with her there, brother, said my sister. You need not
have bid her not to write to you. I'll engage, with all her wit, she'll
never pretend to answer it.

Why, indeed, said my brother, with an air of college-sufficiency, with
which he abounds, (for he thinks nobody writes like himself,) I believe I
have given her a choke-pear. What say you, Mr. Solmes?

Why, Sir, said he, I think it is unanswerable. But will it not
exasperate he more against me?

Never fear, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, but we'll carry our point, if
she do not tire you out first. We have gone too far in this method to
recede. Her cousin Morden will soon be here: so all must be over before
that time, or she'll be made independent of us all.

There, Miss Howe, is the reason given for their jehu-driving.

Mr. Solmes declared, that he was determined to persevere while my brother
gave him any hopes, and while my father stood firm.

My sister told my brother, that he hit me charmingly on the reason why I
ought to converse with Mr. Solmes: but that he should not be so smart
upon the sex, for the faults of this perverse girl.

Some lively, and, I suppose, witty answer, my brother returned; for he
and Mr. Solmes laughed outrageously upon it, and Bella, laughing too,
called him a naughty man: but I heard no more of what they said; they
walked on into the garden.

If you think, my dear, that what I have related did not again fire me,
you will find yourself mistaken when you read at this place the enclosed
copy of my letter to my brother; struck off while the iron was red hot.

No more call me meek and gentle, I beseech you.

TO MR. JAMES HARLOWE

FRIDAY MORNING.

SIR,

If, notwithstanding your prohibition, I should be silent, on occasion of
your last, you would, perhaps, conclude, that I was consenting to go to
my uncle Antony's upon the condition you mention. My father must do as
he pleases with his child. He may turn me out of his doors, if he thinks
fit, or give you leave to do it; but (loth as I am to say it) I should
think it very hard to be carried by force to any body's house, when I
have one of my own to go to.

Far be it from me, notwithstanding yours and my sister's provocations, to
think of my taking my estate into my own hands, without my father's
leave: But why, if I must not stay any longer here, may I not be
permitted to go thither? I will engage to see nobody they would not have
me see, if this favour be permitted. Favour I call it, and am ready to
receive and acknowledge it as such, although my grandfather's will has
made it a matter of right.

You ask me, in a very unbrotherly manner, in the postscript to your
letter, if I have not some new proposals to make? I HAVE (since you put
the question) three or four; new ones all, I think; though I will be bold
to say, that, submitting the case to any one person whom you have not set
against me, my old ones ought not to have been rejected. I think this;
why then should I not write it?--Nor have you any more reason to storm at
your sister for telling it you, (since you seem in your letter to make it
your boast how you turned my mother and my aunt Hervey against me,) than
I have to be angry with my brother, for treating me as no brother ought
to treat a sister.

These, then, are my new proposals.

That, as above, I may not be hindered from going to reside (under such
conditions as shall be prescribed to me, which I will most religiously
observe) at my grandfather's late house. I will not again in this place
call it mine. I have reason to think it a great misfortune that ever it
was so--indeed I have.

If this be not permitted, I desire leave to go for a month, or for what
time shall be thought fit, to Miss Howe's. I dare say my mother will
consent to it, if I have my father's permission to go.

If this, neither, be allowed, and I am to be turned out of my father's
house, I beg I may be suffered to go to my aunt Hervey's, where I will
inviolably observe her commands, and those of my father and mother.

But if this, neither, is to be granted, it is my humble request, that I
may be sent to my uncle Harlowe's, instead of my uncle Antony's. I mean
not by this any disrespect to my uncle Antony: but his moat, with his
bridge threatened to be drawn up, and perhaps the chapel there, terrify
me beyond expression, notwithstanding your witty ridicule upon me for
that apprehension.

If this likewise be refused, and if I must be carried to the moated-
house, which used to be a delightful one to me, let it be promised me,
that I shall not be compelled to receive Mr. Solmes's visits there; and
then I will as cheerfully go, as ever I did.

So here, Sir, are your new proposals. And if none of them answer your
end, as each of them tends to the exclusion of that ungenerous
persister's visits, be pleased to know, that there is no misfortune I
will not submit to, rather than yield to give my hand to the man to whom
I can allow no share in my heart.

If I write in a style different from my usual, and different from what I
wished to have occasion to write, an impartial person, who knew what I
have accidentally, within this hour past, heard from your mouth, and my
sister's, and a third person's, (particularly the reason you give for
driving on at this violent rate, to wit, my cousin Morden's soon-expected
arrival,) would think I have but too much reason for it. Then be pleased
to remember, Sir, that when my whining vocatives have subjected me to so
much scorn and ridicule, it is time, were it but to imitate examples so
excellent as you and my sister set me, that I should endeavour to assert
my character, in order to be thought less an alien, and nearer of kin to
you both, than either of you have of late seemed to suppose me.

Give me leave, in order to empty my female quiver at once, to add, that I
know no other reason which you can have for forbidding me to reply to
you, after you have written what you pleased to me, than that you are
conscious you cannot answer to reason and to justice the treatment you
have given me.

If it be otherwise, I, an unlearned, an unlogical girl, younger by near a
third than yourself, will venture (so assured am I of the justice of my
cause) to put my fate upon an issue with you: with you, Sir, who have had
the advantage of an academical education; whose mind must have been
strengthened by observation, and learned conversation, and who, pardon my
going so low, have been accustomed to give choke-pears to those you
vouchsafe to write against.

Any impartial person, your late tutor, for instance, or the pious and
worthy Dr. Lewen, may be judge between us: and if either give it against
me, I will promise to resign to my destiny: provided, if it be given
against you, that my father will be pleased only to allow of my negative
to the person so violently sought to be imposed upon me.

I flatter myself, Brother, that you will the readier come into this
proposal, as you seem to have a high opinion of your talents for
argumentation; and not a low one of the cogency of the arguments
contained in your last letter. And if I can possibly have no advantage
in a contention with you, if the justice of my cause affords me not any
(as you have no opinion it will,) it behoves you, methinks, to shew to an
impartial moderator that I am wrong, and you not so.

If this be accepted, there is a necessity for its being carried on by the
pen; the facts being stated, and agreed upon by both; and the decision to
be given, according to the force of the arguments each shall produce in
support of their side of the question: for give me leave to say, I know
too well the manliness of your temper, to offer at a personal debate with
you.

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