Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER II

  MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE HARLOWE-PLACE, JAN. 13.

  How you oppress me, my dearest friend, with your politeness! I cannotdoubt your sincerity; but you should take care, that you give me notreason from your kind partiality to call in question your judgment. Youdo not distinguish that I take many admirable hints from you, and havethe art to pass them upon you for my own: for in all you do, in all yousay, nay, in your very looks (so animated!) you give lessons to onewho loves you and observes you as I love you and observe you, withoutknowing that you do--So pray, my dear, be more sparing of your praisefor the future, lest after this confession we should suspect that yousecretly intend to praise yourself, while you would be thought only tocommend another.

  Our family has indeed been strangely discomposed.--Discomposed!--It hasbeen in tumults, ever since the unhappy transaction; and I have borneall the blame; yet should have had too much concern from myself, had Ibeen more justly spared by every one else.

  For, whether it be owing to a faulty impatience, having been tooindulgently treated to be inured to blame, or to the regret I have tohear those censured on my account, whom it is my duty to vindicate; Ihave sometimes wished, that it had pleased God to have taken me in mylast fever, when I had every body's love and good opinion; but oftenerthat I had never been distinguished by my grandfather as I was: sincethat distinction has estranged from me my brother's and sister'saffections; at least, has raised a jealousy with regard to theapprehended favour of my two uncles, that now-and-then overshadows theirlove.

  My brother being happily recovered of his fever, and his wound in ahopeful way, although he has not yet ventured abroad, I will be asparticular as you desire in the little history you demand of me. Butheaven forbid that any thing should ever happen which may require it tobe produced for the purpose you mention!

  I will begin, as you command, with Mr. Lovelace's address to my sister;and be as brief as possible. I will recite facts only; and leave youto judge of the truth of the report raised, that the younger sister hasrobbed the elder.

  It was in pursuance of a conference between Lord M. and my uncle Antony,that Mr. Lovelace [my father and mother not forbidding] paid his respectto my sister Arabella. My brother was then in Scotland, busying himselfin viewing the condition of the considerable estate which was left himthere by his generous godmother, together with one as considerable inYorkshire. I was also absent at my Dairy-house, as it is called,* busiedin the accounts relating to the estate which my grandfather hadthe goodness to devise to me; and which once a year was left to myinspection, although I have given the whole into my father's power.

  * Her grandfather, in order to invite her to him as often as her other friends would spare her, indulged her in erecting and fitting up a diary-house in her own taste. When finished, it was so much admired for its elegant simplicity and convenience, that the whole seat (before, of old time, from its situation, called The Grove) was generally known by the name of The Dairy-house. Her grandfather in particular was fond of having it so called.

  My sister made me a visit there the day after Mr. Lovelace had beenintroduced; and seemed highly pleased with the gentleman. His birth, hisfortune in possession, a clear 2000L. a year, as Lord M. had assuredmy uncle; presumptive heir to that nobleman's large estate: his greatexpectations from Lady Sarah Sadleir and Lady Betty Lawrence; who withhis uncle interested themselves very warmly (he being the last of hisline) to see him married.

  'So handsome a man!--O her beloved Clary!' (for then she was readyto love me dearly, from the overflowings of her good humour on hisaccount!) 'He was but too handsome a man for her!--Were she but asamiable as somebody, there would be a probability of holding hisaffections!--For he was wild, she heard; very wild, very gay; lovedintrigue--but he was young; a man of sense: would see his error, couldshe but have patience with his faults, if his faults were not cured bymarriage!'

  Thus she ran on; and then wanted me 'to see the charming man,' as shecalled him.--Again concerned, 'that she was not handsome enough forhim;' with, 'a sad thing, that the man should have the advantage ofthe woman in that particular!'--But then, stepping to the glass, shecomplimented herself, 'That she was very well: that there were manywomen deemed passable who were inferior to herself: that she was alwaysthought comely; and comeliness, let her tell me, having not so muchto lose as beauty had, would hold, when that would evaporate or flyoff:--nay, for that matter,' [and again she turned to the glass] 'herfeatures were not irregular; her eyes not at all amiss.' And I rememberthey were more than usually brilliant at that time.--'Nothing, in short,to be found fault with, though nothing very engaging she doubted--wasthere, Clary.'

  Excuse me, my dear, I never was thus particular before; no, not to you.Nor would I now have written thus freely of a sister, but that she makesa merit to my brother of disowning that she ever liked him; as I shallmention hereafter: and then you will always have me give you minutedescriptions, nor suffer me to pass by the air and manner in whichthings are spoken that are to be taken notice of; rightly observing,that air and manner often express more than the accompanying words.

  I congratulated her upon her prospects. She received my compliments witha great deal of self-complacency.

  She liked the gentleman still more at his next visit; and yet he made noparticular address to her, although an opportunity was given him forit. This was wondered at, as my uncle has introduced him into our familydeclaredly as a visitor to my sister. But as we are ever ready to makeexcuses when in good humour with ourselves for the perhaps not unwilfulslights of those whose approbation we wish to engage; so my sister foundout a reason much to Mr. Lovelace's advantage for his not improvingthe opportunity that was given him.--It was bashfulness, truly, in him.[Bashfulness in Mr. Lovelace, my dear!]--Indeed, gay and lively as heis, he has not the look of an impudent man. But, I fancy, it is many,many years ago since he was bashful.

  Thus, however, could my sister make it out--'Upon her word, she believedMr. Lovelace deserved not the bad character he had as to women.--He wasreally, to her thinking, a modest man. He would have spoken out, shebelieved; but once or twice as he seemed to intend to do so, he wasunder so agreeable a confusion! Such a profound respect he seemed toshew her! A perfect reverence, she thought: she loved dearly that a manin courtship should shew a reverence to his mistress'--So indeed we alldo, I believe: and with reason; since, if I may judge from what Ihave seen in many families, there is little enough of it shewnafterwards.--And she told my aunt Hervey, that she would be a littleless upon the reserve next time he came: 'She was not one of thoseflirts, not she, who would give pain to a person that deserved to bewell-treated; and the more pain for the greatness of his value forher.'--I wish she had not somebody whom I love in her eye.

  In his third visit, Bella governed herself by this kind and considerateprinciple: so that, according to her own account of the matter, the manmight have spoken out.--But he was still bashful: he was not able toovercome this unseasonable reverence. So this visit went off as theformer.

  But now she began to be dissatisfied with him. She compared his generalcharacter with this his particular behaviour to her; and having neverbeen courted before, owned herself puzzled how to deal with so odd alover. 'What did the man mean, she wondered? Had not her uncle broughthim declaredly as a suitor to her?--It could not be bashfulness (now shethought of it) since he might have opened his mind to her uncle, if hewanted courage to speak directly to her.--Not that she cared much forthe man neither: but it was right, surely, that a woman should be putout of doubt early as to a man's intentions in such a case as this, fromhis own mouth.--But, truly, she had begun to think, that he was moresolicitous to cultivate her mamma's good opinion, than hers!--Everybody, she owned, admired her mother's conversation; but he was mistakenif he thought respect to her mother only would do with her. Andthen, for his own sake, surely he should put it into her power tobe complaisant to him, if he gave her reason to approve of him. Thisdistant behaviour, she
must take upon herself to say, was the moreextraordinary, as he continued his visits, and declared himselfextremely desirous to cultivate a friendship with the whole family; andas he could have no doubt about her sense, if she might take upon her tojoin her own with the general opinion; he having taken great notice of,and admired many of her good things as they fell from her lips. Reserveswere painful, she must needs say, to open and free spirits, like hers:and yet she must tell my aunt,' (to whom all this was directed) 'thatshe should never forget what she owed to her sex, and to herself, wereMr. Lovelace as unexceptionable in his morals as in his figure, and werehe to urge his suit ever so warmly.'

  I was not of her council. I was still absent. And it was agreed uponbetween my aunt Hervey and her, that she was to be quite solemn and shyin his next visit, if there were not a peculiarity in his address toher.

  But my sister it seems had not considered the matter well. This was notthe way, as it proved, to be taken for matters of mere omission, with aman of Mr. Lovelace's penetration. Nor with any man; since if love hasnot taken root deep enough to cause it to shoot out into declaration, ifan opportunity be fairly given for it, there is little room to expect,that the blighting winds of anger or resentment will bring it forward.Then my poor sister is not naturally good-humoured. This is toowell-known a truth for me to endeavor to conceal it, especially fromyou. She must therefore, I doubt, have appeared to great disadvantageswhen she aimed to be worse tempered than ordinary.

  How they managed it in their next conversation I know not. One would betempted to think by the issue, that Mr. Lovelace was ungenerous enoughto seek the occasion given,* and to improve it. Yet he thought fit toput the question too:--But, she says, it was not till, by some meansor other (she knew not how) he had wrought her up to such a pitch ofdispleasure with him, that it was impossible for her to recover herselfat the instant. Nevertheless he re-urged his question, as expectinga definitive answer, without waiting for the return of her temper,or endeavouring to mollify her; so that she was under a necessity ofpersisting in her denial: yet gave him reason to think she did notdislike his address, only the manner of it; his court being rather madeto her mother than to herself, as if he was sure of her consent at anytime.

  * See Mr. Lovelace's Letter, No. XXXI, in which he briefly accounts for his conduct in this affair.

  A good encouraging denial, I must own: as was the rest of her plea; towit, 'A disinclination to change her state. Exceedingly happy as shewas: she never could be happier!' And such-like consenting negatives,as I may call them, and yet not intend a reflection upon my sister: forwhat can any young creature in the like circumstances say, when she isnot sure but a too-ready consent may subject her to the slights of a sexthat generally values a blessing either more or less as it is obtainedwith difficulty or ease? Miss Biddulph's answer to a copy of verse froma gentleman, reproaching our sex as acting in disguise, is not a badone, although you may perhaps think it too acknowledging for the femalecharacter.

  Ungen'rous Sex!--To scorn us if we're kind; And yet upbraid us if we seem severe! Do you, t' encourage us to tell our mind, Yourselves put off disguise, and be sincere. You talk of coquetry!--Your own false hearts Compel our sex to act dissembling parts.

  Here I am obliged to lay down my pen. I will soon resume it.