LETTER LII
MRS. HERVEY, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO LETTER XVIII.]
DEAR NIECE,
It would be hard not to write a few lines, so much pressed to write, toone I ever loved. Your former letter I received; yet was not at libertyto answer it. I break my word to answer you now.
Strange informations are every day received about you. The wretch youare with, we are told, is every hour triumphing and defying--Must notthese informations aggravate? You know the uncontroulableness of theman. He loves his own humour better than he loves you--though so fine acreature as you are! I warned you over and over: no young lady was evermore warned!--Miss Clarissa Harlowe to do such a thing!
You might have given your friends the meeting. If you had held youraversion, it would have been complied with. As soon as I was intrustedmyself with their intention to give up the point, I gave you a hint--adark one perhaps*--but who would have thought--O Miss!--Such an artfulflight!--Such cunning preparations!
But you want to clear up things--what can you clear up? Are you not goneoff?--With a Lovelace too? What, my dear, would you clear up?
You did not design to go, you say. Why did you meet him then, chariotand six, horsemen, all prepared by him? O my dear, how art producesart!--Will it be believed?--If it would, what power will he bethought to have had over you!--He--Who?--Lovelace!--The vilest oflibertines!--Over whom? A Clarissa!--Was your love for such a man aboveyour reason? Above your resolution? What credit would a belief of this,if believed, bring you?--How mend the matter?--Oh! that you had stoodthe next morning!
I'll tell you all that was intended if you had.
It was, indeed, imagined that you would not have been able to resistyour father's entreaties and commands. He was resolved to be allcondescension, if anew you had not provoked him. I love my ClaryHarlowe, said he, but an hour before the killing tidings were broughthim; I love her as my life: I will kneel to her, if nothing else willdo, to prevail upon her to oblige me.
Your father and mother (the reverse of what should have been!) wouldhave humbled themselves to you: and if you could have denied them, andrefused to sign the settlements previous to the meeting, they would haveyielded, although with regret.
But it was presumed, so naturally sweet your temper, so self-denyingas they thought you, that you could not have withstood them,notwithstanding all your dislike of the one man, without a greaterdegree of headstrong passion for the other, than you had given any of usreason to expect from you.
If you had, the meeting on Wednesday would have been a lighter trial toyou. You would have been presented to all your assembled friends, witha short speech only, 'That this was the young creature, till very latelyfaultless, condescending, and obliging; now having cause to glory in atriumph over the wills of father, mother, uncles, the most indulgent;over family-interests, family-views; and preferring her own will toevery body's! and this for a transitory preference to person only; therebeing no comparison between the men in their morals.'
Thus complied with, and perhaps blessed, by your father and mother, andthe consequences of your disobedience deprecated in the solemnest mannerby your inimitable mother, your generosity would have been appealed to,since your duty would have been fount too weak an inducement, and youwould have been bid to withdraw for one half hour's consideration. Thenwould the settlements have been again tendered for your signing, bythe person least disobliging to you; by your good Norton perhaps; sheperhaps seconded by your father again; and, if again refused, youwould have again have been led in to declare such your refusal. Somerestrictions which you yourself had proposed, would have been insistedupon. You would have been permitted to go home with me, or with youruncle Antony, (with which of us was not agreed upon, because they hopedyou might be persuaded,) there to stay till the arrival of your cousinMorden; or till your father could have borne to see you; or till assuredthat the views of Lovelace were at an end.
This the intention, your father so set upon your compliance, so much inhopes that you would have yielded, that you would have been prevailedupon by methods so condescending and so gentle; no wonder that he, inparticular, was like a distracted man, when he heard of your flight--ofyour flight so premeditated;--with your ivy summer-house dinings, yourarts to blind me, and all of us!--Naughty, naughty, young creature!
I, for my part, would not believe it, when told of it. Your uncle Herveywould not believe it. We rather expected, we rather feared, a still moredesperate adventure. There could be but one more desperate; and Iwas readier to have the cascade resorted to, than the gardenback-door.--Your mother fainted away, while her heart was torn betweenthe two apprehensions.--Your father, poor man! your father wasbeside himself for near an hour--What imprecations!--What dreadfulimprecations!--To this day he can hardly bear your name: yet canthink of nobody else. Your merits, my dear, but aggravate yourfault.--Something of fresh aggravation every hour.--How can any favourbe expected?
I am sorry for it; but am afraid nothing you ask will be complied with.
Why mention you, my dear, the saving you from mortifications, who havegone off with a man? What a poor pride is it to stand upon any thingelse!
I dare not open my lips in your favour. Nobody dare. Your letter muststand by itself. This has caused me to send it to Harlowe-place. Expecttherefore great severity. May you be enabled to support the lot you havedrawn! O my dear! how unhappy have you made every body! Can you expectto be happy? Your father wishes you had never been born. Your poormother--but why should I afflict you? There is now no help!--You must bechanged, indeed, if you are not very unhappy yourself in the reflectionsyour thoughtful mind must suggest to you.
You must now make the best of your lot. Yet not married, it seems!
It is in your power, you say, to perform whatever you shall undertaketo do. You may deceive yourself: you hope that your reputation and thefavour of your friends may be retrieved. Never, never, both, I doubt,if either. Every offended person (and that is all who loved you, and arerelated to you) must join to restore you: when can these be of one mindin a case so notoriously wrong?
It would be very grievous, you say, to be precipitated upon measuresthat may make the desirable reconciliation more difficult. Is it now, mydear, a time for you to be afraid of being precipitated? At present,if ever, there can be no thought of reconciliation. The upshot of yourprecipitation must first be seen. There may be murder yet, as far as weknow. Will the man you are with part willingly with you? If not, whatmay be the consequence? If he will--Lord bless me! what shall wethink of his reasons for it?--I will fly this thought. I know yourpurity--But, my dear, are you not out of all protection?--Are you notunmarried?--Have you not (making your daily prayers useless) thrownyourself into temptation? And is not the man the most wicked ofplotters?
You have hitherto, you say, (and I think, my dear, with an airunbecoming to your declared penitence,) no fault to find with thebehaviour of a man from whom every evil was apprehended: like Caesar tothe Roman augur, which I heard you tell of, who had bid him beware theIdes of March: the Ides of March, said Caesar, seeing the augur amongthe crowd, as he marched in state to the senate-house, from which hewas never to return alive, the Ides of March are come. But they are notpast, the augur replied. Make the application, my dear: may you be ableto make this reflection upon his good behaviour to the last of yourknowledge of him! May he behave himself better to you, than he ever didto any body else over whom he had power! Amen!
No answer, I beseech you. I hope your messenger will not tell any bodythat I have written to you. And I dare say you will not show what Ihave written to Mr. Lovelace--for I have written with the less reserve,depending upon your prudence.
You have my prayers.
My Dolly knows not that I write: nobody does*; not even Mr. Hervey.
* Notwithstanding what Mrs. Hervey here says, it will be hereafter seenthat this severe letter was written in private concert with theimplacable Arabella.
Dolly would have several times written: but having defend
ed your faultwith heat, and with a partiality that alarmed us, (such a fall asyour's, my dear, must be alarming to all parents,) she has beenforbidden, on pain of losing our favour for ever: and this at yourfamily's request, as well as by her father's commands.
You have the poor girl's hourly prayers, I will, however, tell you,though she knows not what I do, as well as those of
Your truly afflicted aunt, D. HERVEY.
FRIDAY, APRIL 21.