LETTER XI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY MIDNIGHT.
I have now a calmer moment. Envy, ambition, high and selfish resentment,and all the violent passions, are now, most probably, asleep all aroundme; and shall now my own angry ones give way to the silent hour, andsubside likewise?--They have given way to it; and I have made use ofthe gentler space to re-peruse your last letters. I will touch uponsome passages in them. And that I may the less endanger the but-justrecovered calm, I will begin with what you write about Mr. Hickman.
Give me leave to say, That I am sorry you cannot yet persuade yourselfto think better, that is to say, more justly, of that gentleman, thanyour whimsical picture of him shews you so; or, at least, than thehumourousness of your natural vein would make one think you do.
I do not imagine, that you yourself will say, he sat for the pictureyou have drawn. And yet, upon the whole, it is not greatly to hisdisadvantage. Were I at ease in my mind, I would venture to draw a muchmore amiable and just likeness.
If Mr. Hickman has not that assurance which some men have, he has thathumility and gentleness which many want: and which, with the infinitevalue he has for you, will make him one of the fittest husbands in theworld for a person of your vivacity and spirit.
Although you say I would not like him myself, I do assure you, if Mr.Solmes were such a man as Mr. Hickman, in person, mind, and behaviour,my friends and I had never disagreed about him, if they would not havepermitted me to live single; Mr. Lovelace (having such a character ashe has) would have stood no chance with me. This I can the more boldlyaver, because I plainly perceive, that of the two passions, loveand fear, this man will be able to inspire one with a much greaterproportion of the latter, than I imagine is compatible with the former,to make a happy marriage.
I am glad you own, that you like no one better than Mr. Hickman. In alittle while, I make no doubt, you will be able, if you challengeyour heart upon it, to acknowledge, that you like not any man so well:especially, when you come to consider, that the very faults you find inMr. Hickman, admirably fit him to make you happy: that is to say, if itbe necessary to your happiness, that you should have your own will inevery thing.
But let me add one thing: and that is this:--You have such a sprightlyturn, that, with your admirable talents, you would make any man in theworld, who loved you, look like a fool, except he were such a one asLovelace.
Forgive me, my dear, for my frankness: and forgive me, also, for so soonreturning to subject so immediately relative to myself, as those I nowmust touch upon.
You again insist (strengthened by Mr. Lovelace's opinion) upon myassuming my own estate [I cannot call it resuming, having never beenin possession of it]: and I have given you room to expect, that I willconsider this subject more closely than I have done before. I musthowever own, that the reasons which I had to offer against takingyour advice were so obvious, that I thought you would have seenthem yourself, and been determined by them, against your own hastiercounsel.--But since this has not been so, and that both you and Mr.Lovelace call upon me to assume my own estate, I will enter briefly intothe subject.
In the first place, let me ask you, my dear, supposing I were inclinedto follow your advice, Whom have I to support me in my demand? My uncleHarlowe is one of my trustees--he is against me. My cousin Morden is theother--he is in Italy, and very probably may be set against me too.My brother has declared, that they are resolved to carry their pointsbefore he arrives: so that, as they drive on, all will probably bedecided before I can have an answer from him, were I to write: and,confined as I am, were the answer to come in time, and they did not likeit, they would keep it from me.
In the next place, parents have great advantages in every eye over thechild, if she dispute their pleasure in the disposing of her: and sothey ought; since out of twenty instances, perhaps two could not beproduced, when they were not in the right, the child in the wrong.
You would not, I am sure, have me accept of Mr. Lovelace's offeredassistance in such a claim. If I would embrace any other person's, whoelse would care to appear for a child against parents, ever, till oflate, so affectionate?==But were such a protector to be found, what alength of time would it take up in a course of litigation! The will andthe deeds have flaws in them, they say. My brother sometimes talksof going to reside at The Grove: I suppose, with a design to makeejectments necessary, were I to offer at assuming; or, were I to marryMr. Lovelace, in order to give him all the opposition and difficulty thelaw would help him to give.
These cases I have put to myself, for argument-sake: but they areall out of the question, although any body were to be found who wouldespouse my cause: for I do assure you, I would sooner beg my bread, thanlitigate for my right with my father: since I am convinced, that whetherthe parent do his duty by the child or not, the child cannot be excusedfrom doing hers to him. And to go to law with my father, what asound has that! You will see, that I have mentioned my wish (as analternative, and as a favour) to be permitted, if I must be put out ofhis house, to go thither: but not one step further can I go. And you seehow this is resented.
Upon the whole, then, what have I to hope for, but a change in myfather's resolution?--And is there any probability of that; such anascendancy as my brother and sister have obtained over every body;and such an interest to pursue the enmity they have now openly avowedagainst me?
As to Mr. Lovelace's approbation of your assumption-scheme, I wonder notat. He very probably penetrates the difficulties I should have to bringit to effect, without his assistance. Were I to find myself as free as Iwould wish myself to be, perhaps Mr. Lovelace would stand a worse chancewith me than his vanity may permit him to imagine; notwithstanding thepleasure you take in rallying me on his account. How know you, butall that appears to be specious and reasonable in his offers; such as,standing his chance for my favour, after I became independent, as I maycall it [by which I mean no more, than to have the liberty of refusingfor my husband a man whom it hurts me but to think of in that light];and such as his not visiting me but by my leave; and till Mr. Mordencome; and till I am satisfied of his reformation;--How know you, I say,that he gives not himself these airs purely to stand better in yourgraces as well as mine, by offering of his own accord conditions whichhe must needs think would be insisted on, were the case to happen?
Then am I utterly displeased with him. To threaten as he threatens; yetto pretend, that it is not to intimidate me; and to beg of you not totell me, when he must know you would, and no doubt intended that youshould, is so meanly artful!--The man must think he has a frightenedfool to deal with.--I, to join hands with such a man of violence! myown brother the man whom he threatens!--And what has Mr. Solmes done tohim?--Is he to be blamed, if he thinks a person would make a wife worthhaving, to endeavour to obtain her?--Oh that my friends would butleave me to my own way in this one point! For have I given the manencouragement sufficient to ground these threats upon? Were Mr. Solmes aman to whom I could but be indifferent, it might be found, that to havespirit, would very little answer the views of that spirit. It is myfortune to be treated as a fool by my brother: but Mr. Lovelace shallfind--Yet I will let him know my mind; and then it will come with abetter grace to your knowledge.
Mean time, give me leave to tell you, that it goes against me, in mycooler moments, unnatural as my brother is to me, to have you, my dear,who are my other self, write such very severe reflections upon him, inrelation to the advantage Lovelace had over him. He is not indeed yourbrother: but remember, that you write to his sister.--Upon my word, mydear Miss Howe, you dip your pen in gall whenever you are offended: andI am almost ready to question, whether I read some of your expressionsagainst others of my relations as well as him, (although in my favour,)whether you are so thoroughly warranted to call other people to accountfor their warmth. Should we not be particularly careful to keep clearof the faults we censure?--And yet I am so angry both at my brother andsister, that I should not have taken this liberty with my dear friend,notwithstanding I know you
never loved them, had you not made so lightof so shocking a transaction where a brother's life was at stake: whenhis credit in the eye of the mischievous sex has received a still deeperwound than he personally sustained; and when a revival of the samewicked resentments (which may end more fatally) is threatened.
His credit, I say, in the eye of the mischievous sex: Who is notwarranted to call it so; when it is re (as the two libertines hiscompanions gloried) to resolve never to give a challenge; and among whomduelling is so fashionable a part of brutal bravery, that the man oftemper, who is, mostly, I believe, the truly brave man, is often ata loss so to behave as to avoid incurring either a mortal guilt, or ageneral contempt?
To enlarge a little upon this subject, May we not infer, that those whowould be guilty of throwing these contempts upon a man of temper, whowould rather pass by a verbal injury, than to imbrue his hands in blood,know not the measure of true magnanimity? nor how much nobler it is toforgive, and even how much more manly to despise, than to resent, aninjury? Were I a man, methinks, I should have too much scorn for aperson, who could wilfully do me a mean wrong, to put a value upon hislife, equal to what I put upon my own. What an absurdity, because a manhad done me a small injury, that I should put it in his power (at least,to an equal risque) to do me, and those who love me, an irreparableone!--Were it not a wilful injury, nor avowed to be so, there could notbe room for resentment.
How willingly would I run away from myself, and what most concernsmyself, if I could! This digression brings me back again to the occasionof it--and that to the impatience I was in, when I ended my lastletter, for my situation is not altered. I renew, therefore, my formerearnestness, as the new day approaches, and will bring with it perhapsnew trials, that you will (as undivestedly as possible of favour orresentment) tell me what you would have me do:--for, if I am obliged togo to my uncle Antony's, all, I doubt, will be over with me. Yet how toavoid it--that's the difficulty!
I shall deposit this the first thing. When you have it, lose no time, Ipray you, to advise (lest it be too late)
Your ever obliged CL. HARLOWE.