LETTER XLIII
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, MARCH 21.
Would you not have thought, my dear Miss Howe, as well as I, that myproposal must have been accepted: and that my brother, by the lastarticle of his unbrotherly letter (where he threatens to go to Scotlandif it should be hearkened to) was of opinion that it would.
For my part, after I had read the unkind letter over and over,I concluded, upon the whole, that a reconciliation upon terms sodisadvantageous to myself, as hardly any other person in my case, Idare say, would have proposed, must be the result of this morning'sconference. And in that belief I had begun to give myself new trouble inthinking (this difficulty over) how I should be able to pacify Lovelaceon that part of my engagement, by which I undertook to break off allcorrespondence with him, unless my friends should be brought, by theinterposition of his powerful friends, and any offers they might make,(which it was rather his part to suggest, than mine to intimate,) tochange their minds.
Thus was I employed, not very agreeably, you may believe, because of thevehemence of the tempers I had to conflict with; when breakfasting-timeapproached, and my judges began to arrive.
And oh! how my heart fluttered on hearing the chariot of the one,and then of the other, rattle through the court-yard, and thehollow-sounding foot-step giving notice of each person's stepping out,to take his place on the awful bench which my fancy had formed for themand my other judges!
That, thought I, is my aunt Hervey's! That my uncle Harlowe's! Now comesmy uncle Antony! And my imagination made a fourth chariot for the odiousSolmes, although it happened he was not there.
And now, thought I, are they all assembled: and now my brother callsupon my sister to make her report! Now the hard-hearted Bella interlardsher speech with invective! Now has she concluded her report! Now theydebate upon it!--Now does my brother flame! Now threaten to go toScotland! Now is he chidden, and now soothed!
And then I ran through the whole conference in my imagination, formingspeeches for this person and that, pro and con, till all concluded, asI flattered myself, in an acceptance of my conditions, and in givingdirections to have an instrument drawn to tie me up to my goodbehaviour; while I supposed all agreed to give Solmes a wife every waymore worthy of him, and with her the promise of my grandfather's estate,in case of my forfeiture, or dying unmarried, on the righteous conditionhe proposes to entitle himself to it with me.
And now, thought I, am I to be ordered down to recognize my ownproposals. And how shall I look upon my awful judges? How shall I standthe questions of some, the set surliness of others, the returning loveof one or two? How greatly shall I be affected!
Then I wept: then I dried my eyes: then I practised at my glass for alook more cheerful than my heart.
And now [as any thing stirred] is my sister coming to declare the issueof all! Tears gushing again, my heart fluttering as a bird against itswires; drying my eyes again and again to no purpose.
And thus, my Nancy, [excuse the fanciful prolixity,] was I employed, andsuch were my thoughts and imaginations, when I found a very differentresult from the hopeful conference.
For about ten o'clock up came my sister, with an air of cruel triumph,waving her hand with a light flourish--
Obedience without reserve is required of you, Clary. My papa is justlyincensed, that you should presume to dispute his will, and to makeconditions with him. He knows what is best for you: and as you ownmatters are gone a great way between this hated Lovelace and you,they will believe nothing you say; except you will give the one onlyinstance, that will put them out of doubt of the sincerity of yourpromises.
What, child, are you surprised?--Cannot you speak?--Then, it seems, youhad expected a different issue, had you?--Strange that you could!--Withall your acknowledgements and confessions, so creditable to your notedprudence--!
I was indeed speechless for some time: my eyes were even fixed, andceased to flow. But upon the hard-hearted Bella's proceeding with herairs of insult, Indeed I was mistaken, said I; indeed I was!----For inyou, Bella, I expected, I hoped for, a sister--
What! interrupted she, with all your mannerly flings, and your despisingairs, did you expect that I was capable of telling stories for you?--Didyou think, that when I was asked my own opinion of the sincerity of yourdeclarations, I could not tell tem, how far matters had gone between youand your fellow?--When the intention is to bend that stubborn will ofyours to your duty, do you think I would deceive them?--Do you think Iwould encourage them to call you down, to contradict all that I shouldhave invented in your favour?
Well, well, Bella; I am the less obliged to you; that's all. I waswilling to think that I had still a brother and sister. But I find I ammistaken.
Pretty mopsy-eyed soul!--was her expression!--And was it willing tothink it had still a brother and sister? And why don't you go on, Clary?[mocking my half-weeping accent] I thought I had a father, and mother,two uncles, and an aunt: but I am mis--taken, that's all--come, Clary,say this, and it will in part be true, because you have thrown off alltheir authority, and because you respect one vile wretch more than themall.
How have I deserved this at your hands, Sister?--But I will only say, Ipity you.
And with that disdainful air too, Clary!--None of that bridled neck!none of your scornful pity, girl!--I beseech you!
This sort of behaviour is natural to you, surely, Bella!--What newtalents does it discover in you!--But proceed--If it be a pleasure toyou, proceed, Bella. And since I must not pity you, I will pity myself:for nobody else will.
Because you don't, said she--
Hush, Bella, interrupting her, because I don't deserve it--I know youwere going to say so. I will say as you say in every thing; and that'sthe way to please you.
Then say, Lovelace is a villain.
So I will, when I think him so.
Then you don't think him so?
Indeed I don't. You did not always, Bella.
And what, Clary, mean you by that? [bristling up to me]--Tell me whatyou mean by that reflection?
Tell me why you call it a reflection?--What did I say?
Thou art a provoking creature--But what say you to two or three duels ofthat wretch's?
I can't tell what to say, unless I knew the occasions.
Do you justify duelling at all?
I do not: neither can I help his duelling.
Will you go down, and humble that stubborn spirit of yours to yourmamma?
I said nothing.
Shall I conduct your Ladyship down? [offering to take my declined hand].
What! not vouchsafe to answer me?
I turned from her in silence.
What! turn your back upon me too!--Shall I bring up your mamma to you,love? [following me, and taking my struggling hand] What? not speak yet!Come, my sullen, silent dear, speak one word to me--you must say twovery soon to Mr. Solmes, I can tell you that.
Then [gushing into tears, which I could not hold in longer] they shallbe the last words I will ever speak.
Well, well, [insultingly wiping my averted face with her handkerchief,while her other hand held mine, in a ridiculing tone,] I am glad anything will make thee speak: then you think you may be brought to speakthe two words--only they are to be the last!--How like a gentle lovyerfrom its tender bleeding heart was that!
Ridiculous Bella!
Saucy Clary! [changing her sneering tone to an imperious one] But do youthink you can humble yourself to go down to your mamma?
I am tired of such stuff as this. Tell me, Bella, if my mamma willcondescend to see me?
Yes, if you can be dutiful at last.
I can. I will.
But what call you dutiful?
To give up my own inclinations--That's something more for you to tellof--in obedience to my parents' commands; and to beg that I may not bemade miserable with a man that is fitter for any body than for me.
For me, do you mean, Clary?
Why not? since you have put the question. You have a better op
inion ofhim than I have. My friends, I hope, would not think him too good forme, and not good enough for you. But cannot you tell me, Bella, whatis to become of me, without insulting over me thus?--If I must be thustreated, remember, that if I am guilty of any rashness, the usage I meetwith will justify it.
So, Clary, you are contriving an excuse, I find, for somewhat that wehave not doubted has been in your head a great while.
If it were so, you seem resolved, for your part, and so does my brotherfor his, that I shall not want one.--But indeed, Bella, I can bear nolonger this repetition of the worst part of yesterday's conversation:I desire I may throw myself at my father's and mother's feet, and hearfrom them what their sentence is. I shall at least avoid, by that means,the unsisterly insults I meet with from you.
Hey-day! What, is this you? Is it you, my meek sister Clary?
Yes, it is I, Bella; and I will claim the protection due to a child ofthe family, or to know why I am to be thus treated, when I offer only topreserve to myself the liberty of refusal, which belongs to my sex; and,to please my parents, would give up my choice. I have contented myselftill now to take second-hand messengers, and first-hand insults: you arebut my sister: my brother is not my sovereign. And while I have a fatherand mother living, I will not be thus treated by a brother and sister,and their servants, all setting upon me, as it should seem, to make medesperate, and do a rash thing.--I will know, in short, sister Bella,why I am to be constrained thus?--What is intended by it?--And whether Iam to be considered as a child or a slave?
She stood aghast all this time, partly with real, partly with affected,surprise.
And is it you? Is it indeed you?--Well, Clary, you amaze me! But sinceyou are so desirous to refer yourself to your father and mother, I willgo down, and tell them what you say. Your friends are not yet gone,I believe: they shall assemble again; and then you may come down, andplead your own cause in person.
Let me then. But let my brother and you be absent. You have madeyourselves too much parties against me, to sit as my judges. And Idesire to have none of yours or his interpositions. I am sure you couldnot have represented what I proposed fairly: I am sure you could not.Nor is it possible you should be commissioned to treat me thus.
Well, well, I'll call up my brother to you.--I will indeed.--He shalljustify himself, as well as me.
I desire not to see my brother, except he will come as a brother, layingaside the authority he has unjustly assumed over me.
And so, Clary, it is nothing to him, or to me, is it, that our sistershall disgrace her whole family?
As how, Bella, disgrace it?--The man whom you thus freely treat, is aman of birth and fortune: he is a man of parts, and nobly allied.--Hewas once thought worthy of you: and I wish to Heaven you had had him.I am sure it was not thus my fault you had not, although you treat methus.
This set her into a flame: I wish I had forborne it. O how the poorBella raved! I thought she would have beat me once or twice: and shevowed her fingers itched to do so--but I was not worth her anger: yetshe flamed on.
We were heard to be high.--And Betty came up from my mother to commandmy sister to attend her.--She went down accordingly, threatening me withletting every one know what a violent creature I had shewn myself to be.
TUESDAY NOON, MARCH 21.
I have as yet heard no more of my sister: and have not courage enoughto insist upon throwing myself at the feet of my father and mother, as Ithought in my heat of temper I should be able to do. And I am now grownas calm as ever; and were Bella to come up again, as fit to be playedupon as before.
I am indeed sorry that I sent her from me in such disorder. But mypapa's letter threatening me with my uncle Antony's house and chapel,terrifies me strangely; and by their silence I'm afraid some new stormis gathering.
But what shall I do with this Lovelace? I have just now, but theunsuspected hole in the wall (that I told you of in my letter by Hannah)got a letter from him--so uneasy is he for fear I should be prevailedupon in Solmes's favour; so full of menaces, if I am; so resentingthe usage I receive [for, how I cannot tell, but he has undoubtedlyintelligence of all that is done in the family]; such protestations ofinviolable faith and honour; such vows of reformation; such pressingarguments to escape from this disgraceful confinement--O my Nancy, whatshall I do with this Lovelace?--
LETTER XLIV
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WENESDAY MORNING, NINE O'CLOCK.
My aunt Hervey lay here last night, and is but just gone from me. Shecame up to me with my sister. They would not trust my aunt without thisill-natured witness. When she entered my chamber, I told her, that thisvisit was a high favour to a poor prisoner, in her hard confinement.I kissed her hand. She, kindly saluting me, said, Why this distance toyour aunt, my dear, who loves you so well?
She owned, that she came to expostulate with me, for the peace-sake ofthe family: for that she could not believe it possible, if I did notconceive myself unkindly treated, that I, who had ever shewn such asweetness of temper, as well as manners, should be thus resolute, in apoint so very near to my father, and all my friends. My mother and shewere both willing to impute my resolution to the manner I had been begunwith; and to my supposing that my brother had originally more of a handin the proposals made by Mr. Solmes, than my father or other friends. Inshort, fain would my aunt have furnished me with an excuse to come offmy opposition; Bell all the while humming a tune, and opening this bookand that, without meaning; but saying nothing.
After having shewed me, that my opposition could not be ofsignification, my father's honour being engaged, my aunt concluded withenforcing upon me my duty, in stronger terms than I believe she wouldhave done, (the circumstances of the case considered), had not my sisterbeen present.
It would be repeating what I have so often mentioned, to give you thearguments that passed on both sides.--So I will only recite what she waspleased to say, that carried with it a new face.
When she found me inflexible, as she was pleased to call it, she said,For her part, she could not but say, that if I were not to have eitherMr. Solmes or Mr. Lovelace, and yet, to make my friends easy, mustmarry, she should not think amiss of Mr. Wyerley. What did I think ofMr. Wyerley?
Ay, Clary, put in my sister, what say you to Mr. Wyerley?
I saw through this immediately. It was said on purpose, I doubtednot, to have an argument against me of absolute prepossession in Mr.Lovelace's favour: since Mr. Wyerley every where avows his value, evento veneration, for me; and is far less exceptionable both in person andmind, than Mr. Solmes: and I was willing to turn the tables, by tryinghow far Mr. Solmes's terms might be dispensed with; since the same termscould not be expected from Mr. Wyerley.
I therefore desired to know, whether my answer, if it should be infavour of Mr. Wyerley, would release me from Mr. Solmes?--For I owned,that I had not the aversion to him, that I had to the other.
Nay, she had no commission to propose such a thing. She only knew, thatmy father and mother would not be easy till Mr. Lovelace's hopes wereentirely defeated.
Cunning creature! said my sister.
And this, and her joining in the question before, convinced me, that itwas a designed snare for me.
Don't you, dear Madam, said I, put questions that can answer no end, butto support my brother's schemes against me.--But are there any hopesof an end to my sufferings and disgrace, without having this hated manimposed upon me? Will not what I have offered be accepted? I am sure itought--I will venture to say that.
Why, Niece, if there be not any such hopes, I presume you don't thinkyourself absolved from the duty due from a child to her parents?
Yes, said my sister, I do not doubt but it is Miss Clary's aim, if shedoes not fly to her Lovelace, to get her estate into her own hands, andgo to live at The Grove, in that independence upon which she builds allher perverseness. And, dear heart! my little love, how will you thenblaze away! Your mamma Norton, your oracle, with your poor at yourgates, mingling so proudly and so meanly with the ragged herd!
Reflecting, by your ostentation, upon all the ladies in the county,who do not as you do. This is known to be your scheme! and the poorwithout-doors, and Lovelace within, with one hand building up a name,pulling it down with the other!--O what a charming scheme is this!--Butlet me tell you, my pretty little flighty one, that your father's livingwill shall controul your grandfather's dead one; and that estate will bedisposed of as your fond grandfather would have disposed of it, had helived to see such a change in his favourite. In a word, Miss, it will bekept out of your hands, till my father sees you discreet enough to havethe management of it, or till you can dutifully, by law, tear it fromhim.
Fie, Miss Harlowe! said my aunt: this is not pretty to your sister.
O Madam, let her go on. This is nothing to what I have borne from MissHarlowe. She is either commissioned to treat me ill by her envy, or byan higher authority, to which I must submit.--As to revoking the estate,what hinders, if I pleased? I know my power; but have not the leastthought of exerting it. Be pleased to let my father know, that, whateverbe the consequence to myself, were he to turn me out of doors, (whichI should rather he would do, than to be confined and insulted as I am),and were I to be reduced to indigence and want, I would seek no reliefthat should be contrary to his will.
For that matter, child, said my aunt, were you to marry, you must do asyour husband will have you. If that husband be Mr. Lovelace, he will beglad of any opportunity of further embroiling the families. And, letme tell you, Niece, if he had the respect for you which he pretends tohave, he would not throw out defiances as he does. He is known to be avery revengeful man; and were I you, Miss Clary, I should be afraid hewould wreak upon me that vengeance, though I had not offended him, whichhe is continually threatening to pour upon the family.
Mr. Lovelace's threatened vengeance is in return for threatenedvengeance. It is not every body will bear insult, as, of late, I havebeen forced to bear it.
O how my sister's face shone with passion!
But Mr. Lovelace, proceeded I, as I have said twenty and twenty times,would be quite out of question with me, were I to be generously treated!
My sister said something with great vehemence: but only raising myvoice, to be heard, without minding her, Pray, Madam, (provokinglyinterrogated I), was he not known to have been as wild a man, when hewas at first introduced into our family, as he now is said to be? Yetthen, the common phrases of wild oats, and black oxen, and such-like,were qualifiers; and marriage, and the wife's discretion, were toperform wonders--but (turning to my sister) I find I have said too much.
O thou wicked reflecter!--And what made me abhor him, think you, butthe proof of those villainous freedoms that ought to have had the sameeffect upon you, were you but half so good a creature as you pretend tobe?
Proof, did you say, Bella! I thought you had not proof?--But you knowbest.
Was not this very spiteful, my dear?
Now, Clary, said she, would I give a thousand pounds to know all that isin thy little rancorous and reflecting heart at this moment.
I might let you know for a much less sum, and not be afraid of beingworse treated than I have been.
Well, young ladies, I am sorry to see passion run so high betweenyou. You know, Niece, (to me,) you had not been confined thus toyour apartment, could your mother by condescension, or your father byauthority, have been able to move you. But how can you expect, whenthere must be a concession on one side, that it should be on theirs?If my Dolly, who has not the hundredth part of your understanding, werethus to set herself up in absolute contradiction to my will, in a pointso material, I should not take it well of her--indeed I should not.
I believe not, Madam: and if Miss Hervey had just such a brother, andjust such a sister [you may look, Bella!] and if both were to aggravateher parents, as my brother and sister do mine--then, perhaps, you mightuse her as I am used: and if she hated the man you proposed to her, andwith as much reason as I do Mr. Solmes--
And loved a rake and libertine, Miss, as you do Lovelace, said mysister--
Then might she [continued I, not minding her,] beg to be excused fromobeying. Yet if she did, and would give you the most solemn assurances,and security besides, that she would never have the man you disliked,against your consent--I dare say, Miss Hervey's father and mother wouldsit down satisfied, and not endeavour to force her inclinations.
So!--[said my sister, with uplifted hands] father and mother now come infor their share!
But if, child, replied my aunt, I knew she loved a rake, and suspectedthat she sought only to gain time, in order to wire-draw me into aconsent--
I beg pardon, Madam, for interrupting you; but if Miss Hervey couldobtain your consent, what further would be said?
True, child; but she never should.
Then, Madam, it would never be.
That I doubt, Niece.
If you do, Madam, can you think confinement and ill usage is the way toprevent the apprehended rashness?
My dear, this sort of intimation would make one but too apprehensive,that there is no trusting to yourself, when one knows your inclination.
That apprehension, Madam, seems to have been conceived before thisintimation, or the least cause for it, was given. Why else thedisgraceful confinement I have been laid under?--Let me venture to say,that my sufferings seem to be rather owing to a concerted design tointimidate me [Bella held up her hands], (knowing there were too goodgrounds for my opposition,) than to a doubt of my conduct; for, whenthey were inflicted first, I had given no cause of doubt: nor shouldthere now be room for any, if my discretion might be trusted to.
My aunt, after a little hesitation, said, But, consider, my dear, whatconfusion will be perpetuated in your family, if you marry this hatedLovelace!
And let it be considered, what misery to me, Madam, if I marry thathated Solmes!
Many a young creature has thought she could not love a man, with whomshe has afterwards been very happy. Few women, child, marry their firstloves.
That may be the reason there are so few happy marriages.
But there are few first impressions fit to be encouraged.
I am afraid so too, Madam. I have a very indifferent opinion of lightand first impressions. But, as I have often said, all I wish for is, tohave leave to live single.
Indeed you must not, Miss. Your father and mother will be unhappy tillthey see you married, and out of Lovelace's reach. I am told that youpropose to condition with him (so far are matters gone between you)never to have any man, if you have not him.
I know no better way to prevent mischief on all sides, I freely ownit--and there is not, if he be out of the question, another man in theworld I can think favourably of. Nevertheless, I would give all I havein the world, that he were married to some other person--indeed I would,Bella, for all you put on that smile of incredulity.
May be so, Clary: but I will smile for all that.
If he be out of the question! repeated my aunt--So, Miss Clary, I seehow it is--I will go down--[Miss Harlowe, shall I follow you?]--And Iwill endeavour to persuade your father to let my sister herself come up:and a happier event may then result.
Depend upon it, Madam, said my sister, this will be the case: my motherand she will both be in tears; but with this different effect: mymother will come down softened, and cut to the heart; but will leave herfavourite hardened, from the advantages she will think she has over mymother's tenderness--why, Madam, it is for this very reason the girl isnot admitted into her presence.
Thus she ran on, as she went downstairs.
END OF VOL. 1
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 Page 52