LETTER XLI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, APRIL 20.
I should think myself utterly unworthy of your friendship did not myown concerns, heavy as they are, so engross me, that I could not findleisure for a few lines to declare to my beloved friend my sinceredisapprobation of her conduct, in an instance where she is so generouslyfaulty, that the consciousness of that very generosity may hide fromher the fault, which I, more than any other, have reason to deplore, asbeing the unhappy occasion of it.
You know, you say, that your account of the contentions between yourmother and you will trouble me; and so you bid me spare myself the painsto tell you that they do.
You did not use, my dear, to forbid me thus beforehand. You were wontto say, you loved me the better for my expostulations with you on thatacknowledged warmth and quickness of your temper which your own goodsense taught you to be apprehensive of. What though I have so miserablyfallen, and am unhappy, if ever I had any judgment worth regarding, itis now as much worth as ever, because I can give it as freely againstmyself as against any body else. And shall I not, when there seems to bean infection in my fault, and that it leads you likewise to resolve tocarry on a correspondence against prohibition, expostulate with you uponit; when whatever consequences flow from your disobedience, they butwiden my error, which is as the evil root, from which such sad branchesspring?
The mind that can glory in being capable of so noble, so firm, sounshaken friendship, as that of my dear Miss Howe; a friendship whichno casualty or distress can lessen, but which increases with themisfortunes of its friend--such a mind must be above taking amissthe well-meant admonitions of that distinguished friend. I will nottherefore apologize for my freedom on this subject: and the less need I,when that freedom is the result of an affection, in the very instance,so absolutely disinterested, that it tends to deprive myself of the onlycomfort left me.
Your acknowledged sullens; your tearing from your mother's hands theletter she thought she had a right to see, and burning it, as you own,before her face; your refusal to see the man, who is so willing to obeyyou for the sake of your unhappy friend, and this purely to vex yourmother; can you think, my dear, upon this brief recapitulation of hardlyone half of the faulty particulars you give, that these faults areexcusable in one who so well knows her duty?
Your mother had a good opinion of me once: is not that a reason why sheshould be more regarded now, when I have, as she believes, so deservedlyforfeited it? A prejudice in favour is as hard to be totally overcome asa prejudice in disfavour. In what a strong light, then, must that errorappear to her, that should so totally turn her heart against me, herselfnot a principal in the case?
There are other duties, you say, besides the filial duty: but that, mydear, must be a duty prior to all other duties; a duty anterior, as Imay say, to your very birth: and what duty ought not to give way to that,when they come in competition?
You are persuaded, that the duty to your friend, and the filial duty,may be performed without derogating from either. Your mother thinksotherwise. What is the conclusion to be drawn from these premises?
When your mother sees, how much I suffer in my reputation from the stepI have taken, from whom she and all the world expected better things,how much reason has she to be watchful over you! One evil draws onanother after it; and how knows she, or any body, where it may stop?
Does not the person who will vindicate, or seek to extenuate, a faultystep in another [in this light must your mother look upon the matter inquestion between her and you] give an indication either of a culpablewill, or a weak judgment; and may not she apprehend, that the censoriouswill think, that such a one might probably have equally failed under thesame inducements and provocations, to use your own words, as applied tome in a former letter?
Can there be a stronger instance in human lie than mine has so earlyfurnished, within a few months past, (not to mention the uncommonprovocations to it, which I have met with,) of the necessity of thecontinuance of a watchful parent's care over a daughter: let thatdaughter have obtained ever so great a reputation for her prudence?
Is not the space from sixteen to twenty-one that which requires thiscare, more than at any time of a young woman's life? For in that perioddo we not generally attract the eyes of the other sex, and become thesubject of their addresses, and not seldom of their attempts? And is notthat the period in which our conduct or misconduct gives us a reputationor disreputation, that almost inseparably accompanies us throughout ourwhole future lives?
Are we not likewise then most in danger from ourselves, because of thedistinction with which we are apt to behold particulars of that sex.
And when our dangers multiply, both from within and without, do not ourparents know, that their vigilance ought to be doubled? And shall thatnecessary increase of care sit uneasy upon us, because we are grown upto stature and womanhood?
Will you tell me, if so, what is the precise stature and age at which agood child shall conclude herself absolved from the duty she owes toa parent?--And at which a parent, after the example of the dams ofthe brute creation, is to lay aside all care and tenderness for heroffspring?
Is it so hard for you, my dear, to be treated like a child? And canyou not think it is hard for a good parent to imagine herself under theunhappy necessity of so treating her woman-grown daughter?
Do you think, if your mother had been you, and you your mother, and yourdaughter had struggled with you, as you did with her, that you wouldnot have been as apt as your mother was to have slapped your daughter'shands, to have made her quit her hold, and give up the prohibitedletter?
Your mother told you, with great truth, that you provoked her to thisharshness; and it was a great condescension in her (and not taken noticeof by you as it deserved) to say that she was sorry for it.
At every age on this side matrimony (for then we come under another sortof protection, though that is far from abrogating the filial duty) itwill be found, that the wings of our parents are our most necessary andmost effectual safeguard from the vultures, the hawks, the kites, andother villainous birds of prey, that hover over us with a view to seizeand destroy us the first time we are caught wandering out of the eye orcare of our watchful and natural guardians and protectors.
Hard as you may suppose it, to be denied to continuance of acorrespondence once so much approved, even by the venerable denier;yet, if your mother think my fault to be of such a nature, as that acorrespondence with me will cast a shade upon your reputation, all myown friends having given me up--that hardship is to be submitted to. Andmust it not make her the more strenuous to support her own opinion, whenshe sees the first fruits of this tenaciousness on your side is tobe gloriously in the sullens, as you call it, and in a disobedientopposition?
I know that you have a humourous meaning in that expression, and thatthis turn, in most cases, gives a delightful poignancy both to yourconversation and correspondence; but indeed, my dear, this case will notbear humour.
Will you give me leave to add to this tedious expostulation, that I byno means approve of some of the things you write, in relation to themanner in which your father and mother lived--at times lived--only attimes, I dare say, though perhaps too often.
Your mother is answerable to any body, rather than to her child, forwhatever was wrong in her conduct, if any thing was wrong, towards Mr.Howe: a gentleman, of whose memory I will only say, that it ought to berevered by you--But yet, should you not examine yourself, whether yourdispleasure at your mother had no part in your revived reverence foryour father at the time you wrote?
No one is perfect: and although your mother may not be right to rememberdisagreeableness against the departed, yet should you not want to bereminded on whose account, and on what occasion, she remembered them.You cannot judge, nor ought you to attempt to judge, of what mighthave passed between both, to embitter and keep awake disagreeableremembrances in the survivor.