LETTER XXIX
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE. SATURDAY EVENING.
Mr. Lovelace has seen divers apartments at Windsor; but not one, hesays, that he thought fit for me, and which, at the same time, answeredmy description.
He has been very solicitous to keep to the letter of my instructions:which looked well: and the better I like him, as, although he proposedthat town, he came back, dissuading me from it: for he said, that, inhis journey from thence, he had thought Windsor, although of his ownproposal, a wrong choice; because I coveted privacy, and that was aplace generally visited and admired.*
* This inference of the Lady in his favour is exactly what he had hopedfor. See Letter XXV. of this volume.
I told him, that if Mrs. Sorlings thought me not an incumbrance, I wouldbe willing to stay here a little longer; provided he would leave me, andgo to Lord M.'s, or to London, which ever he thought best.
He hoped, he said, that he might suppose me absolutely safe from theinsults or attempts of my brother; and, therefore, if it should make meeasier, he would obey, for a few days at least.
He again proposed to send for Hannah. I told him I designed to doso, through you--And shall I beg of you, my dear, to cause the honestcreature to be sent to? Your faithful Robert, I think, knows whereshe is. Perhaps she will be permitted to quit her place directly, byallowing a month's wages, which I will repay her. He took notice of theserious humour he found me in, and of the redness of my eyes. I had justbeen answering your letter; and had he not approached me, on hiscoming off his journey, in a very respectful manner; had he not made anunexceptionable report of his inquiries, and been so ready to go fromme, at the very first word; I was prepared (notwithstanding the goodterms we parted upon when he set out for Windsor) to have given him avery unwelcome reception: for the contents of your last letter had soaffected me, that the moment I saw him, I beheld with indignation theseducer, who had been the cause of all the evils I suffer, and havesuffered.
He hinted to me, that he had received a letter from Lady Betty, andanother (as I understood him) from one of the Miss Montagues. If theytake notice of me in them, I wonder that he did not acquaint me with thecontents. I am afraid, my dear, that his relations are among those whothink I have taken a rash and inexcusable step. It is not to my creditto let even them know how I have been frighted out of myself: and yetperhaps they would hold me unworthy of their alliance, if they were tothink my flight a voluntary one. O my dear, how uneasy to us are ourreflections upon every doubtful occurrence, when we know we have beenprevailed upon to do a wrong thing!
SUNDAY MORNING.
Ah! this man, my dear! We have had warmer dialogues than ever yet wehave had. At fair argument, I find I need not fear him;* but he is sucha wild, such an ungovernable creature [he reformed!] that I am halfafraid of him.
* See this confirmed by Mr. Lovelace, Letter XI. of this volume.
He again, on my declaring myself uneasy at his stay with me here,proposed that I would put myself into Lady Betty's protection; assuringme that he thought he could not leave me at Mrs. Sorlings's with safetyto myself. And upon my declining to do that, for the reasons I gave youin my last,* he urged me to make a demand of my estate.
* See Letter XXVIII. of this volume.
He knew it, I told him, to be my resolution not to litigate with myfather.
Nor would he put me upon it, he replied, but as the last thing. Butif my spirit would not permit me to be obliged, as I called it, to anybody, and yet if my relations would refuse me my own, he knew not howI could keep up that spirit, without being put to inconveniences,which would give him infinite concern--Unless--unless--unless, he said,hesitating, as if afraid to speak out--unless I would take the onlymethod I could take, to obtain the possession of my own.
What is that, Sir?
Sure the man saw by my looks, when he came with his creeping unless's,that I guessed what he meant.
Ah! Madam, can you be at a loss to know what that method is?--They willnot dispute with a man that right which they contest with you.
Why said he with a man, instead of with him? Yet he looked as if hewanted to be encouraged to say more.
So, Sir, you would have me employ a lawyer, would you, notwithstandingwhat I have ever declared as to litigating with my father?
No, I would not, my dearest creature, snatching my hand, and pressing itwith his lips--except you would make me the lawyer.
Had he said me at first, I should have been above the affectation ofmentioning a lawyer.
I blushed. The man pursued not the subject so ardently, but that it wasmore easy as well as more natural to avoid it than to fall into it.
Would to Heaven he might, without offending!--But I so over-awedhim!--[over-awed him!--Your* notion, my dear!]--And so the over-awed,bashful man went off from the subject, repeating his proposal, that Iwould demand my own estate, or empower some man of the law to demand it,if I would not [he put in] empower a happier man to demand it. But itcould not be amiss, he thought, to acquaint my two trustees, that Iintended to assume it.
* See Letter XIX. of this volume.
I should know better what to do, I told him, when he was at a distancefrom me, and known to be so. I suppose, Sir, that if my father proposemy return, and engage never to mention Solmes to me, nor any other man,but by my consent, and I agree, upon that condition, to think no more ofyou, you will acquiesce.
I was willing to try whether he had the regard to all of my previousdeclarations, which he pretended to have to some of them.
He was struck all of a heap.
What say you, Mr. Lovelace? You know, all you mean is for my good.Surely I am my own mistress: surely I need not ask your leave to makewhat terms I please for myself, so long as I break none with you?
He hemm'd twice or thrice--Why, Madam--why, Madam, I cannot say--thenpausing--and rising from his seat with petulance; I see plainly enough,said he, the reason why none of my proposals can be accepted: at last Iam to be a sacrifice to your reconciliation with your implacable family.
It has always been your respectful way, Mr. Lovelace, to treat my familyin this free manner. But pray, Sir, when you call others implacable, seethat you deserve not the same censure yourself.
He must needs say, there was no love lost between some of my family andhim; but he had not deserved of them what they had of him.
Yourself being judge, I suppose, Sir?
All the world, you yourself, Madam, being judge.
Then, Sir, let me tell you, had you been less upon your defiances,they would not have been irritated so much against you. But nobody everheard, that avowed despite to the relations of a person was a propercourtship, either to that person, or to her friends.
Well, Madam, all that I know is, that their malice against me is such,that, if you determine to sacrifice me, you may be reconciled when youplease.
And all I know, Sir, is, that if I do give my father the power of anegative, and he will be contented with that, it will be but my duty togive it him; and if I preserve one to myself, I shall break through noobligation to you.
Your duty to your capricious brother, not to your father, you mean,Madam.
If the dispute lay between my brother and me at first, surely, Sir, afather may choose which party he will take.
He may, Madam--but that exempts him not from blame for all that, if hetake the wrong--
Different people will judge differently, Mr. Lovelace, of the right andthe wrong. You judge as you please. Shall not others as they please? Andwho has a right to controul a father's judgment in his own family, andin relation to his own child?
I know, Madam, there is no arguing with you. But, nevertheless, I hadhoped to have made myself some little merit with you, so as that I mightnot have been the preliminary sacrifice to a reconciliation.
Your hope, Sir, had been better grounded if you had had my consent to myabandoning of my father's house--
Always, Madam, and for ever, to be reminded of the choice you w
ould havemade of that damn'd Solmes--rather than--
Not so hasty! not so rash, Mr. Lovelace! I am convinced that there wasno intention to marry me to that Solmes on Wednesday.
So I am told they now give out, in order to justify themselves at yourexpense. Every body living, Madam, is obliged to you for your kindthoughts but I.
Excuse me, good Mr. Lovelace [waving my hand, and bowing], that I amwilling to think the best of my father.
Charming creature! said he, with what a bewitching air is thatsaid!--And with a vehemence in his manner would have snatched my hand.But I withdrew it, being much offended with him.
I think, Madam, my sufferings for your sake might have entitled me tosome favour.
My sufferings, Sir, for your impetuous temper, set against yoursufferings for my sake, I humbly conceive, leave me very little yourdebtor.
Lord! Madam, [assuming a drawling air] What have you suffered?--Nothingbut what you can easily forgive. You have been only made a prisoner inyour father's house, by way of doing credit to your judgment!--You haveonly had an innocent and faithful servant turned out of your service,because you loved her!--You have only had your sister's confidentservant set over you, with leave to tease and affront you--!
Very well, Sir!
You have only had an insolent brother take upon him to treat you like aslave, and as insolent a sister to undermine you in every body's favour,on pretence to keep you out of hands, which, if as vile as they vilelyreport, are not, however, half so vile and cruel as their own.
Go on, Sir, if you please!
You have only been persecuted, in order to oblige you to have a sordidfellow, whom you have professed to hate, and whom every body despises!The license has been only got! The parson has only been had inreadiness! The day, a near, a very near day, had been only fixed! Andyou were only to be searched for your correspondencies, and still closerconfined till the day came, in order to deprive you of all means ofescaping the snare laid for you!--But all this you can forgive! Youcan wish you had stood all this; inevitable as the compulsion must havebeen!--And the man who, at the hazard of his life, had delivered youfrom all these mortifications, is the only person you cannot forgive!
Can't you go on, Sir? You see I have patience to hear you. Can't you goon, Sir?
I can, Madam, with my sufferings: which I confess ought not to bementioned, were I at last to be rewarded in the manner I hoped.
Your sufferings then, if you please, Sir?
Affrontingly forbidden your father's house, after encouragement given,without any reasons they knew not before to justify the prohibition:forced upon a rencounter I wished to avoid: the first I ever, soprovoked, wished to avoid. And that, because the wretch was yourbrother!
Wretch, Sir!--And my brother!--This could be from no man breathing, butfrom him before me!
Pardon me, Madam!--But oh! how unworthy to be your brother!--The quarrelgrafted upon an old one, when at college; he universally known to be theaggressor; and revived for views equally sordid and injurious both toyourself and me--giving life to him, who would have taken away mine!
Your generosity THIS, Sir; not your sufferings: a little more of yoursufferings, if you please!--I hope you do not repent, that you did notmurder my brother!
My private life hunted into! My morals decried! Some of the accusers notunfaulty!
That's an aspersion, Sir!
Spies set upon my conduct! One hired to bribe my own servant's fidelity;perhaps to have poisoned me at last, if the honest fellow had not--
Facts, Mr. Lovelace!--Do you want facts in the display of yoursufferings?--None of your perhaps's, I beseech you!
Menaces every day, and defiances, put into every one's mouth against me!Forced to creep about in disguises--and to watch all hours--
And in all weathers, I suppose, Sir--That, I remember, was once yourgrievance! In all weathers, Sir!* and all these hardships arising fromyourself, not imposed by me.
* See Letter VI. of this volume.
Like a thief, or an eaves-dropper, proceeded he: and yet neither bybirth nor alliances unworthy of their relation, whatever I may be andam of their admirable daughter: of whom they, every one of them, are atleast as unworthy!--These, Madam, I call sufferings: justly call so; ifat last I am to be sacrificed to an imperfect reconciliation--imperfect,I say: for, can you expect to live so much as tolerably under the sameroof, after all that has passed, with that brother and sister?
O Sir, Sir! What sufferings have yours been! And all for my sake, Iwarrant!--I can never reward you for them!--Never think of me more Ibeseech you--How can you have patience with me?--Nothing has beenowing to your own behaviour, I presume: nothing to your defiances fordefiances: nothing to your resolution declared more than once, that youwould be related to a family, which, nevertheless, you would not stoopto ask a relation of: nothing, in short to courses which every bodyblamed you for, you not thinking it worth your while to justifyyourself. Had I not thought you used in an ungentlemanly manner, as Ihave heretofore told you, you had not had my notice by pen and ink.*That notice gave you a supposed security, and you generously defiedmy friends the more for it: and this brought upon me (perhaps notundeservedly) my father's displeasure; without which, my brother'sprivate pique, and selfish views, would have wanted a foundation tobuild upon: so that for all that followed of my treatment, and yourredundant only's, I might thank you principally, as you may yourself forall your sufferings, your mighty sufferings!--And if, voluble Sir, youhave founded any merit upon them, be so good as to revoke it: andlook upon me, with my forfeited reputation, as the only sufferer--Forwhat--pray hear me out, Sir [for he was going to speak] have yousuffered in but your pride? Your reputation could not suffer: thatit was beneath you to be solicitous about. And had you not been anunmanageable man, I should not have been driven to the extremity I nowevery hour, as the hour passes, deplore--with this additional reflectionupon myself, that I ought not to have begun, or, having begun, notcontinued a correspondence with one who thought it not worth his whileto clear his own character for my sake, or to submit to my father forhis own, in a point wherein every father ought to have an option--
* See Letter VI. of this volume.
Darkness, light; light, darkness; by my soul;--just as you please tohave it. O charmer of my heart! snatching my hand, and pressing itbetween both of his, to his lips, in a strange wild way, take me, takeme to yourself: mould me as you please: I am wax in your hands; give meyour own impression; and seal me for ever yours--we were born for eachother!--You to make me happy, and save a soul--I am all error, allcrime. I see what I ought to have done. But do you think, Madam, I canwillingly consent to be sacrificed to a partial reconciliation, inwhich I shall be so great, so irreparable a sufferer!--Any thing butthat--include me in your terms: prescribe to me: promise for me as youplease--put a halter about my neck, and lead me by it, upon conditionof forgiveness on that disgraceful penance, and of a prostration asservile, to your father's presence (your brother absent), and I willbeg his consent at his feet, and bear any thing but spurning from him,because he is your father. But to give you up upon cold conditions,d----n me [said the shocking wretch] if I either will, or can!
These were his words, as near as I can remember them; for his behaviourwas so strangely wild and fervent, that I was perfectly frighted. Ithought he would have devoured my hand. I wished myself a thousand milesdistant from him.
I told him, I by no means approved of his violent temper: he was tooboisterous a man for my liking. I saw now, by the conversation that hadpassed, what was his boasted regard to my injunctions; and shouldtake my measures accordingly, as he should soon find. And, with a halffrighted earnestness, I desired him to withdraw, and leave me to myself.
He obeyed; and that with extreme complaisance in his manner, butwith his complexion greatly heightened, and a countenance as greatlydissatisfied.
But, on recollecting all that passed, I plainly see that he means not,if he can help it, to leave me to the liberty of refusing him; which Ih
ad nevertheless preserved a right to do; but looks upon me as his, by astrange sort of obligation, for having run away with me against my will.
Yet you see he but touches upon the edges of matrimony neither. Andthat at a time, generally, when he has either excited one's passionsor apprehensions; so that one cannot at once descend. But surely thiscannot be his design.--And yet such seemed to be his behaviour to mysister,* when he provoked her to refuse him, and so tamely submitted, ashe did, to her refusal. But he dare not--What can one say of so variousa man?--I am now again out of conceit with him. I wish I were fairly outof his power.
* See Vol.I. Letters II. and III.
He has sent up three times to beg admittance; in the two last withunusual earnestness. But I have sent him word, I will finish what I amabout.
What to do about going from this place, I cannot tell. I could stayhere with all my heart, as I have said to him: the gentlewoman and herdaughters are desirous that I will: although not very convenient forthem, I believe, neither: but I see he will not leave me, while I do--soI must remove somewhere.
I have long been sick of myself: and now I am more and more so. Butlet me not lose your good opinion. If I do, that loss will complete themisfortunes of
Your CL. HARLOWE.