LETTER XXXVII
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORNING, APRIL 9.
I have your three letters. Never was there a creature more impatient onthe most interesting uncertainty than I was, to know the event of theinterview between you and Solmes.
It behoves me to account to my dear friend, in her present unhappysituation, for every thing that may have the least appearance ofnegligence or remissness on my part. I sent Robin in the morning early,in hopes of a deposit. He loitered about the place till near ten tono purpose; and then came away; my mother having given him a letter tocarry to Mr. Hunt's, which he was to deliver before three, when only, inthe day-time, that gentleman is at home; and to bring back an answer toit. Mr. Hunt's house, you know, lies wide from Harlowe-place. Robin butjust saved his time; and returned not till it was too late to send himagain. I only could direct him to set out before day this morning; andif he got any letter, to ride as for his life to bring it to me.
I lay by myself: a most uneasy night I had through impatience; and beingdiscomposed with it, lay longer than usual. Just as I was risen, in cameKitty, from Robin, with your three letters. I was not a quarter dressed;and only slipt on my morning sack; proceeding no further till I hadread them all through, long as they are: and yet I often stopped to ravealoud (though by myself) at the devilish people you have to deal with.
How my heart rises at them all! How poorly did they design to trickyou into an encouragement of Solmes, from the extorted interview!--Iam very, very angry at your aunt Hervey--to give up her own judgment sotamely!--and, not content to do so, to become such an active instrumentin their hands!--But it is so like the world!--so like my mothertoo!--Next to her own child, there is not any body living she values somuch as you:--Yet it is--Why should we embroil ourselves, Nancy, withthe affairs of other people?
Other people!--How I hate the poor words, where friendship is concerned,and where the protection to be given may be of so much consequence to afriend, and of so little detriment to one's self?
I am delighted with your spirit, however. I expected it not from youNor did they, I am sure. Nor would you, perhaps, have exerted it, ifLovelace's intelligence of Solmes's nursery-offices had not set you up.I wonder not that the wretch is said to love you the better for it. Whatan honour would it be to him to have such a wife? And he can be evenwith you when you are so. He must indeed be a savage, as you say.--Yethe is less to blame for his perseverance, than those of your own family,whom most you reverence for theirs.
It is well, as I have often said, that I have not such provocationsand trials; I should perhaps long ago have taken your cousin Dolly'sadvice--yet dare I not to touch that key.--I shall always love the goodgirl for her tenderness to you.
I know not what to say of Lovelace; nor what to think of his promises,nor of his proposals to you. 'Tis certain that you are highly esteemedby all his family. The ladies are persons of unblemished honour. My LordM. is also (as men and peers go) a man of honour. I could tell what toadvise any other person in the world to do but you. So much expectedfrom you!--Such a shining light!--Your quitting your father's house, andthrowing yourself into the protection of a family, however honourable,that has a man in it, whose person, parts, declarations, andpretensions, will be thought to have engaged your warmestesteem;--methinks I am rather for advising that you should get privatelyto London; and not to let either him, or any body else but me, knowwhere you are, till your cousin Morden comes.
As to going to your uncle's, that you must not do, if you can helpit. Nor must you have Solmes, that's certain: Not only because of hisunworthiness in every respect, but because of the aversion you have soopenly avowed to him; which every body knows and talks of; as they doof your approbation of the other. For your reputation sake therefore,as well as to prevent mischief, you must either live single, or haveLovelace.
If you think of going to London, let me know; and I hope you will havetime to allow me a further concert as to the manner of your gettingaway, and thither, and how to procure proper lodgings for you.
To obtain this time, you must palliate a little, and come into someseeming compromise, if you cannot do otherwise. Driven as you aredriven, it will be strange if you are not obliged to part with a few ofyour admirable punctilio's.
You will observe from what I have written, that I have not succeededwith my mother.
I am extremely mortified and disappointed. We have had very strongdebates upon it. But, besides the narrow argument of embroilingourselves with other people's affairs, as above-mentioned, she will haveit, that it is your duty to comply. She says, she was always of opinionthat daughters should implicitly submit to the will of their parents inthe great article of marriage; and that she governed herself accordinglyin marrying my father; who at first was more the choice of her parentsthan her own.
This is what she argues in behalf of her favourite Hickman, as well asfor Solmes in your case.
I must not doubt, but my mother always governed herself by thisprinciple--because she says she did. I have likewise another reason tobelieve it; which you shall have, though it may not become me to giveit--that they did not live so happily together, as one would hope peoplemight do who married preferring each other at the time to the rest ofthe world.
Somebody shall fare never the better for this double-meant policy of mymother, I do assure you. Such a retrospection in her arguments tohim, and to his address, it is but fit that he should suffer for mymortification in failing to carry a point upon which I had set my wholeheart.
Think, my dear, if in any way I can serve you. If you allow of it,I protest I will go off privately with you, and we will live and dietogether. Think of it. Improve upon my hint, and command me.
A little interruption.--What is breakfast to the subject I am upon?
*****
London, I am told, is the best hiding-place in the world. I have writtennothing but what I will stand in to at the word of command. Women loveto engage in knight-errantry, now-and-then, as well as to encourageit in the men. But in your case, what I propose will not seem to haveanything of that nature in it. It will enable me to perform what is nomore than a duty in serving and comforting a dear and worthy friend, wholabours under undeserved oppression: and you will ennoble, as I may say,your Anna Howe, if you allow her to be your companion in affliction.
I will engage, my dear, we shall not be in town together one month,before we surmount all difficulties; and this without being beholden toany men-fellows for their protection.
I must repeat what I have often said, that the authors of yourpersecutions would not have presumed to set on foot their selfishschemes against you, had they not depended upon the gentleness of yourspirit; though now, having gone so far, and having engaged Old AUTHORITYin it, [chide me if you will!] neither he nor they know how to recede.
When they find you out of their reach, and know that I am with you,you'll see how they'll pull in their odious horns.
I think, however, that you should have written to your cousin Morden,the moment they had begun to treat you disgracefully.
I shall be impatient to hear whether they will attempt to carry you toyour uncle's. I remember, that Lord M.'s dismissed bailiff reported ofLovelace, that he had six or seven companions as bad as himself; andthat the country was always glad when they left it.* He actually has, asI hear, such a knot of them about him now. And, depend upon it, he willnot suffer them quietly to carry you to your uncle's: And whose must yoube, if he succeeds in taking you from them?
* See Vol.I. Letter IV.
I tremble for you but upon supposing what may be the consequence of aconflict upon this occasion. Lovelace owes some of them vengeance. Thisgives me a double concern, that my mother should refuse her consent tothe protection I had set my heart upon procuring for you.
My mother will not breakfast without me. A quarrel has its convenienciessometimes. Yet too much love, I think, is as bad as too little.
*****
We have just now had another pull. Upon
my word, she isexcessively--what shall I say?--unpersuadable--I must let her off withthat soft word.
Who was the old Greek, that said, he governed Athens; his wife, him; andhis son, her?
It was not my mother's fault [I am writing to you, you know] that shedid not govern my father. But I am but a daughter!--Yet I thought I wasnot quite so powerless when I was set upon carrying a point, as I findmyself to be.
Adieu, my dear!--Happier times must come--and that quickly too.--Thestrings cannot long continue to be thus overstrained. They must breakor be relaxed. In either way, the certainty must be preferable to thesuspense.
One word more:
I think in my conscience you must take one of these two alternatives;either to consent to let us go to London together privately; [in whichcase, I will procure a vehicle, and meet you at your appointment at thestile to which Lovelace proposes to bring his uncle's chariot;] or,to put yourself into the protection of Lord M. and the ladies of hisfamily.
You have another, indeed; and that is, if you are absolutely resolvedagainst Solmes, to meet and marry Lovelace directly.
Whichsoever of these you make choice of, you will have this plea,both to yourself, and to the world, that you are concluded by the sameuniform principle that has governed your whole conduct, ever since thecontention between Lovelace and your brother has been on foot: thatis to say, that you have chosen a lesser evil, in hopes to prevent agreater.
Adieu! and Heaven direct for the best my beloved creature, prays
Her ANNA HOWE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 40