LETTER XXXI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
You may believe, my dear, that these letters put me in good humour withhim. He saw it in my countenance, and congratulated himself upon it.Yet I cannot but repeat my wonder, that I could not have the contents ofthem communicated to me last night.*
* The reader will see how Miss Howe accounts for this, in Letter XXXV.
He then urged me to go directly to Lady Betty's, on the strength of herletter.
But how, said I, can I do that, were I even out of all hope of areconciliation with my friends, (which yet, however unlikely to beeffected, is my duty to attempt,) as her Ladyship has given me noparticular invitation?
That, he was sure, was owing to her doubt that it would beaccepted--Else she had done it with the greatest pleasure in the world.
That doubt itself, I said, was enough to deter me: since her Ladyship,who knew so well the boundaries to the fit and the unfit, by her notexpecting I would accept of the invitation, had she given it, would havereason to think me very forward, if I had accepted it; and much moreforward to go without it. Then, said I, I thank you, Sir, I have noclothes fit to go any where, or to be seen by any body.
O, I was fit to appear in the drawing-room, were full dress andjewels to be excused; and should make the most amiable [he must meanextraordinary] figure there. He was astonished at the elegance of mydress. By what art he knew not, but I appeared to such advantage, as ifI had a different suit every day.
Besides, his cousins Montague would supply me with all I wanted for thepresent; and he would write to Miss Charlotte accordingly, if I wouldgive him leave.
Do you think me the jay in the fable? said I. Would you have me visitthe owners of the borrowed dresses in their own clothes? Surely, Mr.Lovelace, you think I have either a very low, or a very confident mind.
Would I choose to go to London (for a very few days only) in order tofurnish myself with clothes?
Not at your expense, Sir, said I, in an angry tone.
I could not have appeared in earnest to him, in my displeasure at hisartful contrivances to get me away, if I were not occasionally to shewmy real fretfulness upon the destitute condition to which he has reducedme. When people set out wrong together, it is very difficult to avoidrecriminations.
He wished he knew but my mind--That should direct him in his proposals,and it would be his delight to observe it, whatever it were.
My mind is, that you, Sir, should leave me out of hand--How often must Itell you so?
If I were any where but here, he would obey me, he said, if I insistedupon it. But if I would assert my right, that would be infinitelypreferable, in his opinion, to any other measure but one (which he durstonly hint at:) for then admitting his visits, or refusing them, as Ipleased, (Granting a correspondence by letter only) it would appearto all the world, that what I had done, was but in order to do myselfjustice.
How often, Mr. Lovelace, must I repeat, that I will not litigate with myfather? Do you think that my unhappy circumstances will alter my notionsof my own duty so far as I shall be enabled to perform it? How can Iobtain possession without litigation, and but by my trustees? One ofthem will be against me; the other is abroad. Then the remedy proposedby this measure, were I disposed to fall in with it, will require timeto bring it into effect; and what I want, is present independence, andyour immediate absence.
Upon his soul, the wretch swore, he did not think it safe, for thereasons he had before given, to leave me here. He wished I would thinkof some place, to which I should like to go. But he must takethe liberty to say, that he hoped his behaviour had not been soexceptionable, as to make me so very earnest for his absence in theinterim: and the less, surely, as I was almost eternally shutting upmyself from him; although he presumed to assure me, that he never wentfrom me, but with a corrected heart, and with strengthened resolutionsof improving by my example.
?Externally shutting myself up from you! repeated I--I hope, Sir, thatyou will not pretend to take it amiss, that I expect to be uninvaded inmy retirements. I hope you do not think me so weak a creature (novice asyou have found me in a very capital instance) as to be fond of occasionsto hear your fond speeches, especially as no differing circumstancesrequire your over-frequent visits; nor that I am to be addressed to, asif I thought hourly professions needful to assure me of your honour.
He seemed a little disconcerted.
You know, Mr. Lovelace, proceeded I, why I am so earnest for yourabsence. It is, that I may appear to the world independent of you; andin hopes, by that means, to find it less difficult to set on foot areconciliation with my friends. And now let me add, (in order to makeyou easier as to the terms of that hoped-for reconciliation,) that sinceI find I have the good fortune to stand so well with your relations, Iwill, from time to time, acquaint you, by letter, when you are absent,with every step I shall take, and with every overture that shall be madeto me: but not with an intention to render myself accountable to you,neither, as to my acceptance or non-acceptance of those overtures. Theyknow that I have a power given me by my grandfather's will, to bequeaththe estate he left me, with other of his bounties, in a way that mayaffect them, though not absolutely from them. This consideration, Ihope, will procure me some from them, when their passion subsides, andwhen they know I am independent of you.
Charming reasoning!--And let him tell me, that the assurance I hadgiven him was all he wished for. It was more than he could ask. What ahappiness to have a woman of honour and generosity to depend upon! Hadhe, on his first entrance into the world, met with such a one, he hadnever been other than a man of strict virtue.--But all, he hoped,was for the best; since, in that case, he had never perhaps had thehappiness he now had in view; because his relations had always beenurging him to marry; and that before he had the honour to know me. Andnow, as he had not been so bad as some people's malice reported him tobe, he hoped he should have near as much merit in his repentance, asif he had never erred.--A fine rakish notion and hope! And too muchencouraged, I doubt, my dear, by the generality of our sex!
This brought on a more serious question or two. You'll see by it what acreature an unmortified libertine is.
I asked him, if he knew what he had said, alluded to a sentence in thebest of books, That there was more joy in heaven--
He took the words out of my mouth,
Over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-and-nine just persons,which need no repentance,* were his words.
* Luke xv. 7. The parable is concerning the Ninety-nine Sheep, not theProdigal Son, as Mr. Lovelace erroneously imagines.
Yes, Madam, I thought of it, as soon as I said it, but not before. Ihave read the story of the Prodigal Son, I'll assure you; and one day,when I am settled as I hope to be, will write a dramatic piece on thesubject. I have at times had it in my head; and you will be too ready,perhaps, to allow me to be qualified fro it.
You so lately, Sir, stumbled at a word, with which you must be betteracquainted, ere you can be thoroughly master of such a subject, that Iam amazed you should know any thing of the Scripture, and be so ignorantof that.*
* See Letter XXIV. of this volume.
O Madam, I have read the Bible, as a fine piece of ancient history--Butas I hope to be saved, it has for some years past made me so uneasy,when I have popped upon some passages in it, that I have been forced torun to music or company to divert myself.
Poor wretch! lifting up my hands and eyes.
The denunciations come so slap-dash upon one, so unceremoniously, as Imay say, without even the By-your-leave of a rude London chairman, thatthey overturn one, horse and man, as St. Paul was overturned. There'sanother Scripture allusion, Madam! The light, in short, as his was, istoo glaring to be borne.
O Sir, do you want to be complimented into repentance and salvation?But pray, Mr. Lovelace, do you mean any thing at all, when you swear sooften as you do, By your soul, or bind an asseveration with the words,As you hope to be saved?
O my beloved cre
ature, shifting his seat; let us call another cause.
Why, Sir, don't I neither use ceremony enough with you?
Dearest Madam, forbear for the present: I am but in my noviciate. Yourfoundation must be laid brick by brick: you'll hinder the progress ofthe good work you would promote, if you tumble in a whole wagon-load atonce upon me.
Lord bless me, thought I, what a character is that of a libertine!What a creature am I, who have risked what I have risked with such aone!--What a task before me, if my hopes continue of reforming such awild Indian as this!--Nay, worse than a wild Indian; for a man who errswith his eyes open, and against conviction, is a thousand times worsefor what he knows, and much harder to be reclaimed, than if he had neverknown any thing at all.
I was equally shocked at him, and concerned for him; and having laid sofew bricks (to speak to his allusion) and those so ill-cemented, I wasas willing as the gay and inconsiderate to call another cause, as hetermed it--another cause, too, more immediately pressing upon me, frommy uncertain situation.
I said, I took it for granted that he assented to the reasoning heseemed to approve, and would leave me. And then I asked him, what hereally, and in his most deliberate mind, would advise me to, in mypresent situation? He must needs see, I said, that I was at a great losswhat to resolve upon; entirely a stranger to London, having no adviser,no protector, at present: himself, he must give me leave to tellhim, greatly deficient in practice, if not in the knowledge, of thosedecorums, which, I had supposed, were always to be found in a man ofbirth, fortune, and education.
He imagines himself, I find, to be a very polite man, and cannot bear tobe thought otherwise. He put up his lip--I am sorry for it, Madam--a manof breeding, a man of politeness, give me leave to say, [colouring,] ismuch more of a black swan with you, than with any lady I ever met with.
Then that is your misfortune, Mr. Lovelace, as well as mine, at present.Every woman of discernment, I am confident, knowing what I know of younow, would as I, say, [I had a mind to mortify a pride, that I am suredeserves to be mortified;] that your politeness is not regular, norconstant. It is not habit. It is too much seen by fits and starts, andsallies, and those not spontaneous. You must be reminded into them.
O Lord! O Lord!--Poor I!--was the light, yet the half-angry wretch'sself-pitying expression!
I proceeded.--Upon my word, Sir, you are not the accomplished man, whichyour talents and opportunities would have led one to expect you to be.You are indeed in your noviciate, as to every laudable attainment.