LETTER XXVII
MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY NIGHT, MARCH 9.
I have not patience with any of the people you are with. I know not whatto advise you to do. How do you know that you are not punishablefor being the cause, though to your own loss, that the will of yourgrandfather is not complied with?--Wills are sacred things, child. Yousee, that they, even they, think so, who imagine they suffer by a will,through the distinction paid you in it.
I allow of all your noble reasonings for what you did at the time: But,since such a charming, such a generous instance of filial duty is to gothus unrewarded, why should you not resume?
Your grandfather knew the family-failing. He knew what a noble spirityou had to do good. He himself, perhaps, [excuse me, my dear,] had donetoo little in his life-time; and therefore he put it in your power tomake up for the defects of the whole family. Were it to me, I wouldresume it. Indeed I would.
You will say, you cannot do it, while you are with them. I don't knowthat. Do you think they can use you worse than they do? And is it notyour right? And do they not make use of your own generosity to oppressyou? Your uncle Harlowe is one trustee; your cousin Morden is the other:insist upon your right to your uncle; and write to your cousin Mordenabout it. This, I dare say, will make them alter their behaviour to you.
Your insolent brother--what has he to do to controul you?--Were it me [Iwish it were for one month, and no more] I'd shew him the difference. Iwould be in my own mansion, pursuing my charming schemes, and making allaround me happy. I would set up my own chariot. I would visit them whenthey deserved it. But when my brother and sister gave themselves airs,I would let them know, that I was their sister, and not their servant:and, if that did not do, I would shut my gates against them; and bidthem go and be company for each other.
It must be confessed, however, that this brother and sister of yours,judging as such narrow spirits will ever judge, have some reason fortreating you as they do. It must have long been a mortification tothem (set disappointed love on her side, and avarice on his, out of thequestion) to be so much eclipsed by a younger sister. Such a sun in afamily, where there are none but faint twinklers, how could they bearit! Why, my dear, they must look upon you as a prodigy among them: andprodigies, you know, though they obtain our admiration, never attractour love. The distance between you and them is immense. Their eyes acheto look up at you. What shades does your full day of merit castupon them! Can you wonder, then, that they should embrace the firstopportunity that offered, to endeavour to bring you down to their level?
Depend upon it, my dear, you will have more of it, and more still, asyou bear it.
As to this odious Solmes, I wonder not at your aversion to him. It isneedless to say any thing to you, who have so sincere any antipathy tohim, to strengthen your dislike: Yet, who can resist her own talents?One of mine, as I have heretofore said, is to give an ugly likeness.Shall I indulge it?--I will. And the rather, as, in doing so, youwill have my opinion in justification of your aversion to him, andin approbation of a steadiness that I ever admired, and must for everapprove of, in your temper.
'I was twice in this wretch's company. At one of the times your Lovelacewas there. I need not mention to you, who have such a pretty curiosity,(though at present, only a curiosity, you know,) the unspeakabledifference.
'Lovelace entertained the company in his lively gay way, and madeevery body laugh at one of his stories. It was before this creature wasthought of for you. Solmes laughed too. It was, however, his laugh: forhis first three years, at least, I imagine, must have been one continualfit of crying; and his muscles have never yet been able to recover arisible tone. His very smile [you never saw him smile, I believe; neverat least gave him cause to smile] is so little natural to his features,that it appears to him as hideous as the grin of a man in malice.
'I took great notice of him, as I do of all the noble lords of thecreation, in their peculiarities; and was disgusted, nay, shocked athim, even then. I was glad, I remember, on that particular occasion,to see his strange features recovering their natural gloominess; thoughthey did this but slowly, as if the muscles which contributed to hisdistortions, had turned upon rusty springs.
'What a dreadful thing must even the love of such a husband be! For mypart, were I his wife! (But what have I done to myself, to make such asupposition?) I should never have comfort but in his absence, or whenI was quarreling with him. A splenetic woman, who must have somebody tofind fault with, might indeed be brought to endure such a wretch:the sight of him would always furnish out the occasion, and all herservants, for that reason, and for that only, would have cause to blametheir master. But how grievous and apprehensive a thing it must be forhis wife, had she the least degree of delicacy, to catch herself inhaving done something to oblige him?
'So much for his person. As to the other half of him, he is said to bean insinuating, creeping mortal to any body he hopes to be a gainer by:an insolent, overbearing one, where he has no such views: And is notthis the genuine spirit of meanness? He is reported to be spiteful andmalicious, even to the whole family of any single person who has oncedisobliged him; and to his own relations most of all. I am told, thatthey are none of them such wretches as himself. This may be one reasonwhy he is for disinheriting them.
'My Kitty, from one of his domestics, tells me, that his tenants hatehim: and that he never had a servant who spoke well of him. Vilelysuspicious of their wronging him (probably from the badness of his ownheart) he is always changing.
'His pockets, they say, are continually crammed with keys: so that, whenhe would treat a guest, (a friend he has not out of your family), he ishalf as long puzzling which is which, as his niggardly treat might beconcluded in. And if it be wine, he always fetches it himself. Nor hashe much trouble in doing so; for he has very few visiters--only those,whom business or necessity brings: for a gentleman who can help it,would rather be benighted, than put up at his house.'
Yet this is the man they have found out (for considerations as sordid asthose he is governed by) for a husband, that is to say, for a lord andmaster, for Miss Clarissa Harlowe!
But, perhaps, he may not be quite so miserable as he is represented.Characters extremely good, or extremely bad, are seldom justly given.Favour for a person will exalt the one, as disfavour will sink theother. But your uncle Antony has told my mother, who objected to hiscovetousness, that it was intended to tie him up, as he called it, toyour own terms; which would be with a hempen, rather than a matrimonial,cord, I dare say. But, is not this a plain indication, that even hisown recommenders think him a mean creature; and that he must be articledwith--perhaps for necessaries? But enough, and too much, of such awretch as this!--You must not have him, my dear,--that I am clearin--though not so clear, how you will be able to avoid it, except youassert the independence to which your estate gives you a title.
***
Here my mother broke in upon me. She wanted to see what I had written. Iwas silly enough to read Solmes's character to her.
She owned, that the man was not the most desirable of men; and that hehad not the happiest appearance: But what, said she, is person in a man?And I was chidden for setting you against complying with your father'swill. Then followed a lecture on the preference to be given in favour ofa man who took care to discharge all his obligations to the world, andto keep all together, in opposition to a spendthrift or profligate. Afruitful subject you know, whether any particular person be meant by it,or not.
Why will these wise parents, by saying too much against the persons theydislike, put one upon defending them? Lovelace is not a spendthrift;owes not obligations to the world; though, I doubt not, profligateenough. Then, putting one upon doing such but common justice, wemust needs be prepossessed, truly!--And so perhaps we are put uponcuriosities first, that is to say, how such a one or his friends maythink of one: and then, but too probably, comes in a distinguishingpreference, or something that looks exceedingly like it.
My mother charged me at last, to
write that side over again.--Butexcuse me, my good Mamma! I would not have the character lost upon anyconsideration; since my vein ran freely into it: and I never wrote toplease myself, but I pleased you. A very good reason why--we have butone mind between us--only, that sometimes you are a little too grave,methinks; I, no doubt, a little too flippant in your opinion.
This difference in our tempers, however, is probably the reason that welove one another so well, that in the words of Norris, no third love cancome in betwixt. Since each, in the other's eye, having something amiss,and each loving the other well enough to bear being told of it (and therather perhaps as neither wishes to mend it); this takes off a good dealfrom that rivalry which might encourage a little (if not a great deal)of that latent spleen, which in time might rise into envy, and that intoill-will. So, my dear, if this be the case, let each keep her fault, andmuch good may do her with it: and what an hero or heroine must he orshe be, who can conquer a constitutional fault? Let it be avarice, as insome I dare not name: let it be gravity, as in my best friend: or let itbe flippancy, as in--I need not say whom.
It is proper to acquaint you, that I was obliged to comply with mymother's curiosity, [my mother has her share, her full share, ofcuriosity, my dear,] and to let her see here-and-there some passages inyour letters--
I am broken in upon--but I will tell you by-and-by what passed betweenmy mother and me on this occasion--and the rather, as she had her GIRL,her favourite HICKMAN, and your LOVELACE, all at once in her eye, in herpart of the conversation.
Thus it was.
'I cannot but think, Nancy, said she, after all, that there is a littlehardship in Miss Harlowe's case: and yet (as her mother says) it isa grating thing to have a child, who was always noted for her dutyin smaller points, to stand in opposition to her parents' will in thegreater; yea, in the greatest of all. And now, to middle the matterbetween both, it is pity, that the man they favour has not that sort ofmerit which a person of a mind so delicate as that of Miss Harlowe mightreasonably expect in a husband.--But then, this man is surely preferableto a libertine: to a libertine too, who has had a duel with her ownbrother; fathers and mothers must think so, were it not for thatcircumstance--and it is strange if they do not know best.'
And so they must, thought I, from their experience, if no little dirtyviews give them also that prepossession in one man's favour, which theyare so apt to censure their daughters for having in another's--andif, as I may add in your case, they have no creeping, old, musty uncleAntonys to strengthen their prepossessions, as he does my mother's.Poor, creeping, positive soul, what has such an old bachelor as he todo, to prate about the duties of children to parents; unless he had anotion that parents owe some to their children? But your mother, by herindolent meekness, let me call it, has spoiled all the three brothers.
'But you see, child, proceeded my mother, what a different behaviourMINE is to YOU. I recommend to you one of the soberest, yet politest,men in England--'
I think little of my mother's politest, my dear. She judges of honestHickman for her daughter, as she would have done, I suppose, twentyyears ago, for herself.
'Of a good family, continued my mother; a fine, clear, and improvingestate [a prime consideration with my mother, as well as with some otherfolks, whom you know]: and I beg and I pray you to encourage him: atleast not to use him the worse, for his being so obsequious to you.'
Yes, indeed! To use him kindly, that he may treat me familiarly--butdistance to the men-wretches is best--I say.
'Yet all will hardly prevail upon you to do as I would have you. Whatwould you say, were I to treat you as Miss Harlowe's father and mothertreat her?
'What would I say, Madam!--That's easily answered. I would say nothing.Can you think such usage, and to such a young lady, is to be borne?
'Come, come, Nancy, be not so hasty: you have heard but one side; andthat there is more to be said is plain, by your reading to me but partsof her letters. They are her parents. They must know best. Miss Harlowe,as fine a child as she is, must have done something, must have saidsomething, (you know how they loved her,) to make them treat her thus.
'But if she should be blameless, Madam, how does your own suppositioncondemn them?'
Then came up Solmes's great estate; his good management of it--'A littletoo NEAR indeed,' was the word!--[O how money-lovers, thought I, willpalliate! Yet my mother is a princess in spirit to this Solmes!] 'Whatstrange effects, added she, have prepossession and love upon youngladies!'
I don't know how it is, my dear; but people take high delight in findingout folks in love. Curiosity begets curiosity. I believe that's thething.
She proceeded to praise Mr. Lovelace's person, and his qualificationsnatural and acquired. But then she would judge as mothers will judge,and as daughters are very loth to judge: but could say nothing in answerto your offer of living single; and breaking with him--if--if--[three orfour if's she made of one good one, if] that could be depended on.
But still obedience without reserve, reason what I will, is the burdenof my mother's song: and this, for my sake, as well as for yours.
I must needs say, that I think duty to parents is a very meritoriousexcellence. But I bless God I have not your trials. We can all be goodwhen we have no temptation nor provocation to the contrary: but fewyoung persons (who can help themselves too as you can) would bear whatyou bear.
I will now mention all that is upon my mind, in relation to thebehaviour of your father and uncles, and the rest of them, becauseI would not offend you: but I have now a higher opinion of my ownsagacity, than ever I had, in that I could never cordially love any oneof your family but yourself. I am not born to like them. But it is myduty to be sincere to my friend: and this will excuse her Anna Howe toMiss Clarissa Harlowe.
I ought indeed to have excepted your mother; a lady to be reverenced:and now to be pitied. What must have been her treatment, to be thussubjugated, as I may call it? Little did the good old viscount think,when he married his darling, his only daughter, to so well-appearing agentleman, and to her own liking too, that she would have been so muchkept down. Another would call your father a tyrant, if I must not: allthe world that know him, do call him so; and if you love your mother,you should not be very angry at the world for taking that liberty.
Yet, after all, I cannot help thinking, that she is the less to bepitied, as she may be said (be the gout, or what will, the occasionof his moroseness) to have long behaved unworthy of her birth and finequalities, in yielding so much as she yields to encroaching spirits[you may confine the reflection to your brother, if it will pain youto extend it]; and this for the sake of preserving a temporary peace toherself; which was the less worth endeavouring to preserve, as it alwaysproduced a strength in the will of others, which subjected her to anarbitrariness that of course grew, and became established, upon herpatience.--And now to give up the most deserving of her children(against her judgment) a sacrifice to the ambition and selfishness ofthe least deserving!--But I fly from this subject--having I fear, saidtoo much to be forgiven--and yet much less than is in my heart to sayupon the over-meek subject.
Mr. Hickman is expected from London this evening. I have desired him toinquire after Lovelace's life and conversation in town. If he has notinquired, I shall be very angry with him. Don't expect a very goodaccount of either. He is certainly an intriguing wretch, and full ofinventions.
Upon my word, I most heartily despise that sex! I wish they would letour fathers and mothers alone; teasing them to tease us with theirgolden promises, and protestations and settlements, and the restof their ostentatious nonsense. How charmingly might you and I livetogether, and despise them all!--But to be cajoled, wire-drawn,and ensnared, like silly birds, into a state of bondage, or vilesubordination; to be courted as princesses for a few weeks, in order tobe treated as slaves for the rest of our lives. Indeed, my dear, as yousay of Solmes, I cannot endure them!--But for your relations [friends nomore will I call them, unworthy as they are even of the other name!]to take such a wretch's p
rice as that; and to the cutting off of allreversions from his own family:--How must a mind but commonly justresist such a measure!
Mr. Hickman shall sound Lord M. upon the subject you recommend. Butbeforehand, I can tell you what he and what his sisters will say, whenthey are sounded. Who would not be proud of such a relation as MissClarissa Harlowe?--Mrs. Fortescue told me, that they are all your verygreat admirers.
If I have not been clear enough in my advice about what you shall do,let me say, that I can give it in one word: it is only by re-urging youto RESUME. If you do, all the rest will follow.
We are told here, that Mrs. Norton, as well as your aunt Hervey, hasgiven her opinion on the implicit side of the question. If she canthink, that the part she has had in your education, and your ownadmirable talents and acquirements, are to be thrown away upon such aworthless creature as Solmes, I could heartily quarrel with her. You maythink I say this to lessen your regard for the good woman. And perhapsnot wholly without cause, if you do. For, to own the truth, methinks,I don't love her so well as I should do, did you love her so apparentlyless, that I could be out of doubt, that you love me better.
Your mother tells you, 'That you will have great trials: that you areunder your father's discipline.'--The word is enough for me to despisethem who give occasion for its use.--'That it is out of her power tohelp you!' And again: 'That if you have any favour to hope for, it mustbe by the mediation of your uncles.' I suppose you will write to theoddities, since you are forbid to see them. But can it be, that such alady, such a sister, such a wife, such a mother, has no influence in herown family? Who, indeed, as you say, if this be so, would marry, thatcan live single? My choler is again beginning to rise. RESUME, my dear:and that is all I will give myself time to say further, lest I offendyou when I cannot serve you--only this, that I am
Your truly affectionate friend and servant, ANNA HOWE.