LETTER XL
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE [In continuation of the subject inLetter XXXVIII.]
I will now, though midnight (for I have no sleep in my eyes) resumethe subject I was forced so abruptly to quit, and will obey yours, MissLloyd's, Miss Campion's, and Miss Biddulph's call, with as much temperas my divided thought will admit. The dead stillness of this solemn hourwill, I hope, contribute to calm my disturbed mind.
In order to acquit myself of so heavy a charge as that of havingreserves to so dear a friend, I will acknowledge (and I thought I hadover-and-over) that it is owing to my particular situation, if Mr.Lovelace appears to me in a tolerable light: and I take upon me to say,that had they opposed to him a man of sense, of virtue, of generosity;one who enjoyed his fortune with credit, who had a tenderness in hisnature for the calamities of others, which would have given a moralassurance, that he would have been still less wanting in gratefulreturns to an obliging spirit:--had they opposed such a man as this toMr. Lovelace, and been as earnest to have me married, as now they are,I do not know myself, if they would have had reason to tax me with thatinvincible obstinacy which they lay to my charge: and this whateverhad been the figure of the man; since the heart is what we women shouldjudge by in the choice we make, as the best security for the party'sgood behaviour in every relation of life.
But, situated as I am, thus persecuted and driven, I own to you, thatI have now-and-then had a little more difficulty than I wished for, inpassing by Mr. Lovelace's tolerable qualities, to keep up my dislike tohim for his others.
You say, I must have argued with myself in his favour, and in hisdisfavour, on a supposition, that I might possibly be one day his. Iown that I have: and thus called upon by my dearest friend, I will setbefore you both parts of the argument.
And first, what occurred to me in his favour.
At his introduction into our family, his negative virtues were insistedupon:--He was no gamester; no horse-racer; no fox-hunter; no drinker:my poor aunt Hervey had, in confidence, given us to apprehend muchdisagreeable evil (especially to a wife of the least delicacy) from awine-lover: and common sense instructed us, that sobriety in a man isno small point to be secured, when so many mischiefs happen daily fromexcess. I remember, that my sister made the most of this favourablecircumstance in his character while she had any hopes of him.
He was never thought to be a niggard; not even ungenerous: nor whenhis conduct came to be inquired into, an extravagant, a squanderer: hispride [so far was it a laudable pride] secured him from that. Then hewas ever ready to own his errors. He was no jester upon sacred things:poor Mr. Wyerley's fault; who seemed to think there was wit in sayingbold things, which would shock a serious mind. His conversation with uswas always unexceptionable, even chastely so; which, be his actions whatthey would, shewed him capable of being influenced by decent company;and that he might probably therefore be a led man, rather than a leader,in other company. And one late instance, so late as last Saturdayevening, has raised him not a little in my opinion, with regard to thispoint of good (and at the same time, of manly) behaviour.
As to the advantage of birth, that is of his side, above any man who hasbeen found out for me. If we may judge by that expression of his,which you were pleased with at the time; 'That upon true quality, andhereditary distinction, if good sense were not wanting, humour sat aseasy as his glove;' that, with as familiar an air, was his familiarexpression; 'while none but the prosperous upstart, MUSHROOMED intorank, (another of his peculiars,) was arrogantly proud of it.'--If, Isay, we may judge of him by this, we shall conclude in his favour, thathe knows what sort of behaviour is to be expected from persons of birth,whether he act up to it or not. Conviction is half way to amendment.
His fortunes in possession are handsome; in expectation, splendid: sonothing need be said on that subject.
But it is impossible, say some, that he should make a tender or kindhusband. Those who are for imposing upon me such a man as Mr. Solmes,and by methods so violent, are not entitled to make this objection. Butnow, on this subject, let me tell you how I have argued with myself--forstill you must remember, that I am upon the extenuating part of hischaracter.
A great deal of the treatment a wife may expect from him, will possiblydepend upon herself. Perhaps she must practise as well as promiseobedience, to a man so little used to controul; and must be careful tooblige. And what husband expects not this?--The more perhaps if he hadnot reason to assure himself of the preferable love of his wife beforeshe became such. And how much easier and pleasanter to obey the man ofher choice, if he should be even more unreasonable sometimes, than oneshe would not have had, could she have avoided it? Then, I think, asthe men were the framers of the matrimonial office, and made obediencea part of the woman's vow, she ought not, even in policy, to shew him,that she can break through her part of the contract, (however lightlyshe may think of the instance,) lest he should take it into his head(himself is judge) to think as lightly of other points, which she mayhold more important--but, indeed, no point so solemnly vowed can beslight.
Thus principled, and acting accordingly, what a wretch must that husbandbe, who could treat such a wife brutally!--Will Lovelace's wife be theonly person to whom he will not pay the grateful debt of civility andgood manners? He is allowed to be brave: Who ever knew a brave man, if abrave man of sense, an universally base man? And how much the gentlenessof our sex, and the manner of our training up and education, make usneed the protection of the brave, and the countenance of the generous,let the general approbation, which we are all so naturally inclined togive to men of that character, testify.
At worst, will he confine me prisoner to my chamber? Will he deny me thevisits of my dearest friend, and forbid me to correspond with her? Willhe take from me the mistressly management, which I had not faultilydischarged? Will he set a servant over me, with license to insult me?Will he, as he has not a sister, permit his cousins Montague, or wouldeither of those ladies accept of a permission, to insult and tyrannizeover me?--It cannot be.--Why then, think I often, do you tempt me, O mycruel friends, to try the difference?
And then has the secret pleasure intruded itself, to be able to reclaimsuch a man to the paths of virtue and honour: to be a secondary means,if I were to be his, of saving him, and preventing the mischiefs soenterprising a creature might otherwise be guilty of, if he be such aone.
When I have thought of him in these lights, (and that as a man of sensehe will sooner see his errors, than another,) I own to you, that I havehad some difficulty to avoid taking the path they so violently endeavourto make me shun: and all that command of my passions which has beenattributed to me as my greatest praise, and, in so young a creature, asmy distinction, has hardly been sufficient for me.
And let me add, that the favour of his relations (all but himselfunexceptionable) has made a good deal of additional weight, thrown inthe same scale.
But now, in his disfavour. When I have reflected upon the prohibitionof my parents; the giddy appearance, disgraceful to our sex, that sucha preference would have: that there is no manner of likelihood, enflamedby the rencounter, and upheld by art and ambition on my brother's side,that ever the animosity will be got over: that I must therefore be atperpetual variance with all my own family: that I must go to him, and tohis, as an obliged and half-fortuned person: that his aversion to themall is as strong as theirs to him: that his whole family are hatedfor his sake; they hating ours in return: that he has a very immoralcharacter as to women: that knowing this, it is a high degree ofimpurity to think of joining in wedlock with such a man: that he isyoung, unbroken, his passions unsubdued: that he is violent in histemper, yet artful; I am afraid vindictive too: that such a husbandmight unsettle me in all my own principles, and hazard my future hopes:that his own relations, two excellent aunts, and an uncle, from whomhe has such large expectations, have no influence upon him: that whattolerable qualities he has, are founded more in pride than in virtue:that allowing, as he does, the excellency of moral precepts,
andbelieving the doctrine of future rewards and punishments, he can live asif he despised the one, and defied the other: the probability that thetaint arising from such free principles, may go down into the mannersof posterity: that I knowing these things, and the importance of them,should be more inexcusable than one who knows them not; since an erroragainst judgment is worse, infinitely worse, than an error in judgment.Reflecting upon these things, I cannot help conjuring you, my dear, topray with me, and to pray for me, that I may not be pushed upon suchindiscreet measures, as will render me inexcusable to myself: for thatis the test, after all. The world's opinion ought to be but a secondaryconsideration.
I have said in his praise, that he is extremely ready to own his errors:but I have sometimes made a great drawback upon this article, in hisdisfavour; having been ready to apprehend, that this ingenuousness maypossibly be attributable to two causes, neither of them, by any means,creditable to him. The one, that his vices are so much his masters, thathe attempts not to conquer them; the other, that he may think it policy,to give up one half of his character to save the other, when thewhole may be blamable: by this means, silencing by acknowledgmentthe objections he cannot answer; which may give him the praise ofingenuousness, when he can obtain no other, and when the challengedproof might bring out, upon discussion, other evils. These, you willallow, are severe constructions; but every thing his enemies say of himcannot be false.
I will proceed by-and-by.
***
Sometimes we have both thought him one of the most undesigning merelywitty men we ever knew; at other times one of the deepest creatureswe ever conversed with. So that when in one visit we have imaginedwe fathomed him, in the next he has made us ready to give him up asimpenetrable. This impenetrableness, my dear, is to be put among theshades in his character. Yet, upon the whole, you have been so farof his party, that you have contested that his principal fault isover-frankness, and too much regardlessness of appearances, and that heis too giddy to be very artful: you would have it, that at the time hesays any thing good, he means what he speaks; that his variableness andlevity are constitutional, owing to sound health, and to a soul and body[that was your observation] fitted for and pleased with each other. Andhence you concluded, that could this consentaneousness [as you call it]of corporal and animal faculties be pointed by discretion; that isto say, could his vivacity be confined within the pale of but moralobligations, he would be far from being rejectable as a companion forlife.
But I used then to say, and I still am of opinion, that he wantsa heart: and if he does, he wants every thing. A wrong head may beconvinced, may have a right turn given it: but who is able to give aheart, if a heart be wanting? Divine Grace, working a miracle, or nextto a miracle, can only change a bad heart. Should not one fly the manwho is but suspected of such a one? What, O what, do parents do, whenthey endeavour to force a child's inclination, but make her think betterthan otherwise she would think of a man obnoxious to themselves, andperhaps whose character will not stand examination?
I have said, that I think Mr. Lovelace a vindictive man: upon my word, Ihave sometimes doubted, whether his perseverance in his addresses tome has not been the more obstinate, since he has found himself sodisagreeable to my friends. From that time I verily think he hasbeen the more fervent in them; yet courts them not, but sets them atdefiance. For this indeed he pleads disinterestedness [I am sure hecannot politeness]; and the more plausibly, as he is apprized of theability they have to make it worth his while to court them. 'Tis truehe has declared, and with too much reason, (or there would be no bearinghim,) that the lowest submissions on his part would not be accepted; andto oblige me, has offered to seek a reconciliation with them, if I wouldgive him hope of success.
As to his behaviour at church, the Sunday before last, I lay no stressupon that, because I doubt there was too much outward pride in hisintentional humility, or Shorey, who is not his enemy, could not havemistaken it.
I do not think him so deeply learned in human nature, or in ethics, assome have thought him. Don't you remember how he stared at the followingtrite observations, which every moralist could have furnished him with?Complaining as he did, in a half-menacing strain, of the obloquiesraised against him--'That if he were innocent, he should despise theobloquy: if not, revenge would not wipe off his guilt.' 'That nobodyever thought of turning a sword into a sponge!' 'That it was in his ownpower by reformation of an error laid to his charge by an enemy, to makethat enemy one of his best friends; and (which was the noblest revengein the world) against his will; since an enemy would not wish him to bewithout the faults he taxed him with.'
But the intention, he said, was the wound.
How so, I asked him, when that cannot wound without the application?'That the adversary only held the sword: he himself pointed it to hisbreast:--And why should he mortally resent that malice, which he mightbe the better for as long as he lived?'--What could be the readinghe has been said to be master of, to wonder, as he did, at theseobservations?
But, indeed, he must take pleasure in revenge; and yet holds others tobe inexcusable for the same fault. He is not, however, the only onewho can see how truly blamable those errors are in another, which theyhardly think such in themselves.
From these considerations, from these over-balances, it was, that Isaid, in a former, that I would not be in love with this man for theworld: and it was going further than prudence would warrant, when I wasfor compounding with you, by the words conditional liking, which you sohumourously rally.
Well but, methinks you say, what is all this to the purpose? This isstill but reasoning: but, if you are in love, you are: and love,like the vapours, is the deeper rooted for having no sufficient causeassignable for its hold. And so you call upon me again to have noreserves, and so-forth.
Why then, my dear, if you will have it, I think, that, with all hispreponderating faults, I like him better than I ever thought I shouldlike him; and, those faults considered, better perhaps than I ought tolike him. And I believe, it is possible for the persecution I labourunder to induce me to like him still more--especially while I canrecollect to his advantage our last interview, and as every day producesstronger instances of tyranny, I will call it, on the other side.--Ina word, I will frankly own (since you cannot think any thing I say tooexplicit) that were he now but a moral man, I would prefer him to allthe men I ever saw.
So that this is but conditional liking still, you'll say: nor, I hope,is it more. I never was in love as it is called; and whether this be it,or not, I must submit to you. But will venture to think it, if it be,no such mighty monarch, no such unconquerable power, as I have heardit represented; and it must have met with greater encouragement thanI think I have given it, to be absolutely unconquerable--since I ampersuaded, that I could yet, without a throb, most willingly give up theone man to get rid of the other.
But now to be a little more serious with you: if, my dear, myparticularly-unhappy situation had driven (or led me, if you please)into a liking of the man; and if that liking had, in your opinion,inclined me to love him, should you, whose mind is susceptible of themost friendly impressions, who have such high notions of the delicacywhich ought to be observed by our sex in these matters, and who actuallydo enter so deeply into the distresses of one you love--should youhave pushed so far that unhappy friend on so very nice asubject?--Especially, when I aimed not (as you could prove by fiftyinstances, it seems) to guard against being found out. Had you ralliedme by word of mouth in the manner you do, it might have been more incharacter; especially, if your friend's distresses had been surmounted,and if she had affected prudish airs in revolving the subject: but tosit down to write it, as methinks I see you, with a gladdened eye, andwith all the archness of exultation--indeed, my dear, (and I take noticeof it, rather for the sake of your own generosity, than for my sake,for, as I have said, I love your raillery,) it is not so very pretty;the delicacy of the subject, and the delicacy of your own mind,considered.
I lay down my pen here, that you may conside
r of it a little, if youplease.
***
I resume, to give you my opinion of the force which figure or personought to have upon our sex: and this I shall do both generally as to theother sex, and particularly as to this man; whence you will be able tocollect how far my friends are in the right, or in the wrong, whenthey attribute a good deal of prejudice in favour of one man, and indisfavour of the other, on the score of figure. But, first, let meobserve, that they see abundant reason, on comparing Mr. Lovelace andMr. Solmes together, to believe that this may be a consideration withme; and therefore they believe it is.
There is certainly something very plausible and attractive, as wellas creditable to a woman's choice, in figure. It gives a favourableimpression at first sight, in which we wish to be confirmed: and if,upon further acquaintance, we find reason to be so, we are pleased withour judgment, and like the person the better, for having given us causeto compliment our own sagacity, in our first-sighted impressions. But,nevertheless, it has been generally a rule with me, to suspect a finefigure, both in man and woman; and I have had a good deal of reasonto approve my rule;--with regard to men especially, who ought to valuethemselves rather upon their intellectual than personal qualities.For, as to our sex, if a fine woman should be led by the opinion of theworld, to be vain and conceited upon her form and features; and that tosuch a degree, as to have neglected the more material and more durablerecommendations, the world will be ready to excuse her; since a prettyfool, in all she says, and in all she does, will please, we know notwhy.
But who would grudge this pretty fool her short day! Since, with hersummer's sun, when her butterfly flutters are over, and the winterof age and furrows arrives, she will feel the just effects of havingneglected to cultivate her better faculties: for then, lie anotherHelen, she will be unable to bear the reflection even of her own glass,and being sunk into the insignificance of a mere old woman, she willbe entitled to the contempts which follow that character. While thediscreet matron, who carries up [we will not, in such a one's case,say down] into advanced life, the ever-amiable character of virtuousprudence and useful experience, finds solid veneration take place ofairy admiration, and more than supply the want of it.
But for a man to be vain of his person, how effeminate! If such aone happens to have genius, it seldom strikes deep into intellectualsubjects. His outside usually runs away with him. To adorn, and perhaps,intending to adorn, to render ridiculous that person, takes up all hisattention. All he does is personal; that is to say, for himself: all headmires, is himself: and in spite of the correction of the stage, whichso often and so justly exposes a coxcomb, he usually dwindles down, andsinks into that character; and, of consequence, becomes the scorn of onesex, and the jest of the other.
This is generally the case of your fine figures of men, and of those whovalue themselves on dress and outward appearance: whence it is, that Irepeat, that mere person in a man is a despicable consideration. Butif a man, besides figure, has learning, and such talents as would havedistinguished him, whatever were his form, then indeed person is anaddition: and if he has not run too egregiously into self-admiration,and if he has preserved his morals, he is truly a valuable being.
Mr. Lovelace has certainly taste; and, as far as I am able to determine,he has judgment in most of the politer arts. But although he has ahumourous way of carrying it off, yet one may see that he values himselfnot a little, both on his person and his parts, and even upon his dress;and yet he has so happy an ease in the latter, that it seems to be theleast part of his study. And as to the former, I should hold myselfinexcusable, if I were to add to his vanity by shewing the least regardfor what is too evidently so much his.
And now, my dear, let me ask you, Have I come up to your expectation? IfI have not, when my mind is more at ease, I will endeavour to pleaseyou better. For, methinks, my sentences drag, my style creeps, myimagination is sunk, my spirits serve me not, only to tell you, thatwhether I have more or less, I am wholly devoted to the commands of mydear Miss Howe.