LETTER VI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12.
I will pursue my melancholy story.
Being thus hurried to the chariot, it would have been to no purpose tohave refused entering into it, had he not in my fright lifted me in, ashe did: and it instantly drove away a full gallop, and stopped not tillit brought us to St. Alban's; which was just as the day shut in.
I thought I should have fainted several times by the way. With upliftedhands and eyes, God protect me! said I often to myself: Can it be I,that am here! My eyes running over, and my heart ready to burst withsighs as involuntarily as my flight.
How different, how inexpressibly different, the gay wretch; visiblytriumphing (as I could not but construe his almost rapturous joy) in thesuccess of his arts! But overflowing with complimental flourishes, yetrespectfully distant his address, all the way we flew; for that, ratherthan galloping, was the motion of the horses; which took, as I believe,a round-about way, to prevent being traced.
I have reason to think, there were other horsemen at his devotion; threeor four different persons, above the rank of the servants, galloping byus now-and-then, on each side of the chariot: but he took no noticeof them; and I had too much grief, mingled with indignation,notwithstanding all his blandishments, to ask any questions about them,or any thing else.
Think, my dear, what were my thoughts on alighting from the chariot;having no attendant of my own sex; no clothes but what I had on, andthose little suited to such a journey as I had already taken, and wasstill to take: neither hood nor hat, nor any thing but a handkerchiefround my head and shoulders: fatigued to death: my mind still morefatigued than my body: and in such a foam the horses, that every one inthe inn we put up at guessed [they could not do otherwise] that I wasa young giddy creature, who had run away from her friends. This it waseasy to see, by their whispering and gaping: more of the people of thehouse also coming in by turns, than were necessary for the attendance.
The mistress of the house, whom he sent in to me, showed me anotherapartment; and, seeing me ready to faint, brought me hartshorn and water;and then, upon my desiring to be left alone for half an hour, retired:for I found my heart ready to burst, on revolving every thing in mythoughts: and the moment she was gone, fastening the door, I threwmyself into an old great chair, and gave way to a violent flood oftears, which a little relieved me.
Mr. Lovelace, sooner than I wished, sent up the gentlewoman, who pressedme, in his name, to admit my brother, or to come down to him: for he hadtold her I was his sister; and that he had brought me, against my will,and without warning, from a friend's house, where I had been all thewinter, in order to prevent my marrying against the consent of myfriends; to whom he was now conducting me; and that, having given me notime for a travelling-dress, I was greatly offended at him.
So, my dear, your frank, your open-hearted friend, was forced tocountenance this tale; which indeed suited me the better, because I wasunable for some time to talk, speak, or look up; and so my dejection,and grief, and silence, might very well pass before the gentlewoman andher niece who attended me, as a fit of sullenness.
The room I was in being a bed-chamber, I chose to go down, at hisrepeated message, attended by the mistress of the house, to that inwhich he was. He approached me with great respect, yet not exceedinga brotherly politeness, where a brother is polite; and, calling me hisdearest sister, asked after the state of my mind; and hoped I wouldforgive him; for never brother half so well loved a sister, as he me.
A wretch! how naturally did he fall into the character, although I wasso much out of mine!
Unthinking creatures have some comfort in the shortness of their views;in their unapprehensiveness; and that they penetrate not beyond thepresent moment: in short that they are unthinking!--But, for a person ofmy thoughtful disposition, who has been accustomed to look forward, aswell to the possible, as to the probable, what comfort can I have in myreflections?
But let me give you the particulars of our conversation a little beforeand after our supper-time, joining both in one.
When we were alone, he besought me (I cannot say but with all the tokensof a passionate and respectful tenderness) to be better reconciled tomyself and to him: he repeated all the vows of honour and inviolableaffection that he ever made me: he promised to be wholly governed by mein every future step. He asked me to give him leave to propose, whetherI chose to set out next day to either of his aunts?
I was silent. I knew not what to say, nor what to do.
Whether I chose to have private lodgings procured for me in either ofthose ladies' neighbourhood, as were once my thoughts?
I was still silent.
Whether I chose to go to either of Lord M.'s seats; that of Berks, orthat in the county we were in?
In lodgings, I said, any where, where he was not to be.
He had promised this, he owned; and he would religiously keep to hisword, as soon as he found all danger of pursuit over; and that I wassettled to my mind. But, if the place were indifferent to me, London wasthe safest, and the most private: and his relations should all visitme there, the moment I thought fit to admit them. His cousin Charlotte,particularly, should attend me, as my companion, if I would accept ofher, as soon as she was able to go abroad. Mean time, would I go to LadyBetty Lawrance's (Lady Sarah was a melancholy woman)? I should be themost welcome guest she ever received.
I told him, I wished not to go (immediately, however, and in the frameI was in, and not likely to be out of) to any of his relations: that myreputation was concerned, to have him absent from me: that, if I were insome private lodging, the meaner the less to be suspected, (as it wouldbe known, that I went away by his means; and he would be supposed tohave provided me handsome accommodations,) it would be most suitableboth to my mind and to my situation: that this might be best, I shouldthink, in the country for me; in town for him. And no matter how soon hewas known to be there.
If he might deliver his opinion, he said, it was, that since I declinedgoing to any of his relations, London was the only place in the worldto be private in. Every new comer in a country town or village excited acuriosity: A person of my figure [and many compliments he made me] wouldexcite more. Even messages and letters, where none used to be brought,would occasion inquiry. He had not provided a lodging any where,supposing I would choose to go either to London, where accommodations ofthat sort might be fixed upon in an hour's time, or to Lady Betty's; orto Lord M.'s Herfordshire seat, where was the housekeeper, an excellentwoman, Mrs. Greme, such another as my Norton.
To be sure, I said, if I were pursued, it would be in their firstpassion; and some one of his relations' houses would be the place theywould expect to find me at--I knew not what to do.
My pleasure should determine him, he said, be it what it would. Onlythat I were safe, was all he was solicitous about. He had lodgings intown; but he did not offer to propose them. He knew, I would have moreobjections to go to them, than I could to go to Lord M.'s, or to LadyBetty's.
No doubt of it, I replied, with such an indignation in my manner, asmade him run over with professions, that he was far from proposing them,or wishing for my acceptance of them. And again he repeated, that myhonour and safety were all he was solicitous about; assuring me, that mywill should be a law to him in every particular.
I was too peevish, and too much afflicted, and indeed too much incensedagainst him, to take well any thing he said.
I thought myself, I said, extremely unhappy. I knew not what todetermine upon: my reputation now, no doubt, utterly ruined: destituteof clothes: unfit to be seen by any body: my very indigence, as I mightcall it, proclaiming my folly to every one who saw me; who would supposethat I had been taken at advantage, or had given an undue one; and hadno power over either my will or my actions: that I could not but think Ihad been dealt artfully with: that he had seemed to have taken, what hemight suppose, the just measure of my weakness, founded on my youth andinexperience: that I could not forgive myself for meeting
him: that myheart bled for the distresses of my father and mother, on this occasion:that I would give the world, and all my hopes in it, to have been stillin my father's house, whatever had been my usage: that, let him protestand vow what he would, I saw something low and selfish in his love, thathe could study to put a young creature upon making such a sacrifice ofher duty and conscience: when a person, actuated by a generous love,must seek to oblige the object of it, in every thing essential to herhonour, and to her peace of mind.
He was very attentive to all I said, never offering to interrupt meonce. His answer to every article, almost methodically, shewed hismemory.
'What I had said, he told me, made him very grave; and he would answeraccordingly.
'He was grieved at his heart, to find that he had so little share in myfavour or confidence.
'As to my reputation, (he must be very sincere with me,) that could notsuffer half so much by the step I so regretted to have taken, as by theconfinement, and equally foolish and unjust treatment, I had met withfrom my relations: that every mouth was full of blame of them, of mybrother and sister particularly; and of wonder at my patience: that hemust repeat what he had written to me he believed more than once, Thatmy friends themselves expected that I should take a proper opportunityto free myself from their persecutions; why else did they confine me?That my exalted character, as he called it, would still bear me out,with those who knew me; who knew my brother's and sister's motives; andwho knew the wretch they were for compelling me to have.
'With regard to clothes; who, as matters were circumstanced, couldexpect that I should be able to bring away any others than those I hadon at the time? For present use or wear, all the ladies of his familywould take a pride to supply me: for future, the product of the bestlooms, not only in England, but throughout the world, were at mycommand.
'If I wanted money, as no doubt I must, he should be proud to supply me:Would to heaven, he might presume to hope, there were but one interestbetween us!'
And then he would fain have had me to accept of a bank note of a hundredpounds; which, unawares to me, he put into my hand: but which, you maybe sure, I refused with warmth.
'He was inexpressibly grieved and surprised, he said, to hear me sayhe had acted artfully by me. He came provided, according to my confirmedappointment,' [a wretch to upbraid me thus!] 'to redeem me from mypersecutors; and little expected a change of sentiment, and that heshould have so much difficulty to prevail upon me, as he had met with:that perhaps I might think his offer to go into the garden with me, andto face my assembled relations, was a piece of art only: but that if Idid, I wronged him: since to this hour, seeing my excessive uneasiness,he wished, with all his soul he had been permitted to accompany me in.It was always his maxim to brave a threatened danger. Threateners, wherethey have an opportunity to put in force their threats, were seldomto be feared. But had he been assured of a private stab, or of as manydeath's wounds as there were persons in my family, (made desperate ashe should have been by my return,) he would have attended me into thehouse.'
So, my dear, what I have to do, is to hold myself inexcusable formeeting such a determined and audacious spirit; that's all! I havehardly any question now, but that he would have contrived some wickedstratagem or other to have got me away, had I met him at a midnighthour, as once or twice I had thoughts to do; and that would have beenmore terrible still.
He concluded this part of his talk, with saying, 'That he doubted notbut that, had he attended me in, he should have come off in everyone's opinion well, that he should have had general leave to renew hisvisits.'
He went on--'He must be so bold as to tell me, that he should have paida visit of this kind, (but indeed accompanied by several of his trustyfriends,) had I not met him; and that very afternoon too; for he couldnot tamely let the dreadful Wednesday come, without making some effortto change their determinations.'
What, my dear, was to be done with such a man!
'That therefore for my sake, as well as for his own, he had reason towish that a disease so desperate had been attempted to be overcome by asdesperate a remedy. We all know, said he, that great ends are sometimesbrought about by the very means by which they are endeavoured to befrustrated.'
My present situation, I am sure, thought I, affords a sad evidence ofthis truth!
I was silent all this time. My blame was indeed turned inward.Sometimes, too, I was half-frighted at his audaciousness: at others, hadthe less inclination to interrupt him, being excessively fatigued, andmy spirits sunk to nothing, with a view even of the best prospects withsuch a man.
This gave his opportunity to proceed: and that he did; assuming a stillmore serious air.
'As to what further remained for him to say, in answer to what I hadsaid, he hoped I would pardon him; but, upon his soul, he was concerned,infinitely concerned, he repeated, (his colour and his voice rising,)that it was necessary for him to observe, how much I chose rather tohave run the risque of being Solmes's wife, than to have it in my powerto reward a man who, I must forgive him, had been as much insulted on myaccount, as I had been on his--who had watched my commands, and (pardonme, Madam) ever changeable motion of your pen, all hours, in allweathers, and with a cheerfulness and ardour, that nothing but the mostfaithful and obsequious passion could inspire.'
I now, my dear, began to revive into a little more warmth ofattention.--
'And all, Madam, for what?'--How I stared! for he stopt then a momentor two--'Only,' went he on, 'to prevail upon you to free yourself fromungenerous and base oppressions'--
Sir, Sir, indignantly said I--
'Hear me but out, dearest Madam!--My heart is full--I must speak whatI have to say--To be told (for your words are yet in my ears, and at myheart!) that you would give the world, and all your hopes in it, to havebeen still in your cruel and gloomy father's house'--
Not a word, Sir, against my father!--I will not bear that--
'Whatever had been your usage:--and you have a credulity, Madam, againstall probability, if you believe you should have avoided beingSolmes's wife: That I have put you upon sacrificing your duty andconscience--yet, dearest creature! see you not the contradiction thatyour warmth of temper has surprised you into, when the reluctanceyou shewed to the last to leave your persecutors, has cleared yourconscience from the least reproach of this sort?'--
O Sir! Sir! are you so critical then? Are you so light in your anger asto dwell upon words?--
Indeed, my dear, I have since thought that his anger was not owing tothat sudden impetus, which cannot be easily bridled; but rather was asort of manageable anger let loose to intimidate me.
'Forgive me, Madam--I have just done--Have I not, in your opinion,hazarded my life to redeem you from oppression? Yet is not my reward,after all, precarious?--For, Madam, have you not conditioned with me(and, hard as the condition is, most sacredly will I observe it) thatall my hope must be remote? That you are determined to have it in yourpower to favour or reject me totally, as you please?'
See, my dear! in every respect my condition changed for the worse! Is itin my power to take your advice, if I should think it ever so right totake it?*
* Clarissa had been censured as behaving to Mr. Lovelace, in their firstconversation at St. Alban's, and afterwards, with too much reserve, andeven with haughtiness. Surely those, who have thought her to blame onthis account, have not paid a due attention to the story. How early, asabove, and in what immediately follows, does he remind her of the termsof distance which she had prescribed to him, before she was in hispower, in hopes to leave the door open for a reconciliation withher friends, which her heart was set upon? And how artfully does he(unrequired) promise to observe the conditions in which she in herpresent circumstances and situation (in pursuance of Miss Howe's advice)would gladly have dispensed with?--To say nothing of the resentment shewas under a necessity to shew, at the manner of his getting her away, inorder to justify to him the sincerity of her refusal to go off with him.See, in her subsequent Letter to Miss Howe, No. IX.,
her own sense uponthe subject.
'And have you not furthermore declared,' proceeded he 'that you willengage to renounce me for ever, if your friends insist upon that cruelrenunciation, as the terms of being reconciled to you?
'But nevertheless, Madam, all the merit of having saved you from anodious compulsion, shall be mine. I glory in it, though I were to loseyou for ever. As I see I am but too likely to do, from your presentdispleasure; and especially, if your friends insist upon the terms youare ready to comply with.
'That you are your own mistress, through my means, is, I repeat, myboast. As such, I humbly implore your favour, and that only upon theconditions I have yielded to hope for it. As I do now, thus humbly,[the proud wretch falling on one knee,] your forgiveness, for so longdetaining your ear, and for all the plain dealing that my undesigningheart would not be denied to utter by my lips.'
O Sir, pray rise! Let the obliged kneel, if one of us must kneel! But,nevertheless, proceed not in this strain, I beseech you. You have hada great deal of trouble about me: but had you let me know in time, thatyou expected to be rewarded for it at the price of my duty, I shouldhave spared you much of it.
Far be it from me, Sir, to depreciate merit so extraordinary. But let mesay, that had it not been for the forbidden correspondence I was teasedby you into; and which I had not continued (every letter, for manyletters, intended to be the last) but because I thought you a suffererfrom my friends; I had not been either confined or ill treated: norwould my brother's low-meant violence have had a foundation to workupon.
I am far from thinking my case would have been so very desperate as youimagine had I staid. My father loved me in his heart: he would not seeme before; and I wanted only to see him, and to be heard; and a delayof his sentence was the least thing I expected from the trial I was tostand.
You are boasting of your merits, Sir: let merit be your boast; nothingelse can attract me. If personal considerations had principal weightwith me, either in Solmes's disfavour, or in your favour, I shalldespise myself: if you value yourself upon them, in preference to theperson of the poor Solmes, I shall despise you!
You may glory in your fancied merits in getting me away: but the causeof your glory, I tell you plainly, is my shame.
Make to yourself a title to my regard, which I can better approve of; orelse you will not have so much merit with me, as you have with yourself.
But here, Sir, like the first pair, (I, at least, driven out of myparadise,) are we recriminating. No more shall you need to tell me ofyour sufferings, and your merits! your all hours, and all weathers! ForI will bear them in memory as long as I live; and if it be impossiblefor me to reward them, be ever ready to own the obligation. All thatI desire of you now is, to leave it to myself to seek for some privateabode: to take the chariot with you to London, or elsewhere: and, ifI have any further occasion for your assistance and protection, I willsignify it to you, and be still further obliged to you.
You are warm, my dearest life!--But indeed there is no occasion for it.Had I any views unworthy of my faithful love for you, I should not havebeen so honest in my declarations.
Then he began again to vow the sincerity of his intentions--
But I took him up short: I am willing to believe you, Sir. It wouldbe insupportable but to suppose there were a necessity for such solemndeclarations. [At this he seemed to collect himself, as I may say, intoa little more circumspection.] If I thought there were, I would not sitwith you here, in a public inn, I assure you, although cheated hither,as far as I know, by methods (you must excuse me, Sir) which, butto suspect, will hardly let me have patience either with you or withmyself--but no more of this, just now: Let me, I beseech you, good Sir,bowing [I was very angry!] let me only know whether you intend to leaveme; or whether I have only escaped from one confinement to another?
Cheated hither, as far as I know, Madam! Let you know (and with thatair, too, charming, though grievous to my heart!) if you have onlyescaped from one confinement to another--amazing! perfectly amazing! Andcan there be a necessity for me to answer this? You are absolutely yourown mistress--it was very strange, if you were not. The moment you arein a place of safety, I will leave you. To one condition only, give meleave to beg your consent: it is this, that you will be pleased, now youare so entirely in your own power, to renew a promise voluntarily madebefore; voluntarily, or I would not now presume to request it; foralthough I would not be thought capable of growing upon concession, yetI cannot bear to think of losing the ground your goodness had givenme room to hope I had gained; 'That, make up how you please with yourrelations, you will never marry any other man, while I am living andsingle, unless I should be so wicked as to give new cause for highdispleasure.'
I hesitate not to confirm this promise, Sir, upon your own condition. Inwhat manner do you expect to confirm it?
Only, Madam, by your word.
Then I never will.
He had the assurance (I was now in his power) to salute me as a sealingof my promise, as he called it. His motion was so sudden, that I was notaware of it. It would have looked affected to be very angry; yet I couldnot be pleased, considering this as a leading freedom, from a spirit soaudacious and encroaching: and he might see, that I was not.
He passed all that by with an air peculiar to himself--Enough, enough,dearest Madam! And now let me beg of you but to conquer this dreadfuluneasiness, which gives me to apprehend too much for my jealous love tobear; and it shall be my whole endeavour to deserve your favour, and tomake you the happiest woman in the world; as I shall be the happiest ofmen.
I broke from him to write to you my preceding letter; but refused tosend it by his servant, as I told you. The mistress of the house helpedme to a messenger, who was to carry what you should give him to LordM.'s seat in Hertfordshire, directed for Mrs. Greme, the housekeeperthere. And early in the morning, for fear of pursuit, we were to setout that way: and there he proposed to change the chariot and six for achaise and pair of his own, which he had at that seat, as it would be aless-noticed conveyance.
I looked over my little stock of money; and found it to be no morethan seven guineas and some silver: the rest of my stock was but fiftyguineas, and that five more than I thought it was, when my sisterchallenged me as to the sum I had by me:* and those I left in myescritoire, little intending to go away with him.
* See Vol. I. Letter XLIII.
Indeed my case abounds with a shocking number of indelicatecircumstances. Among the rest, I was forced to account to him, who knewI could have no clothes but what I had on, how I came to have linen withme (for he could not but know I sent for it); lest he should imagineI had an early design to go away with him, and made that part of thepreparation.
He most heartily wished, he said, for my mind's sake, that your motherwould have afforded me her protection; and delivered himself upon thissubject with equal freedom and concern.
There are, my dear Miss Howe, a multitude of punctilios and decorums,which a young creature must dispense with, who, in a situation likemine, makes a man the intimate attendant of her person. I could now,I think, give twenty reasons stronger than any I have heretoforementioned, why women of the least delicacy should never think ofincurring the danger and the disgrace of taking the step I have beendrawn in to take, but with horror and aversion; and why they should lookupon the man who should tempt them to it, as the vilest and most selfishof seducers.
*****
Before five o'clock (Tuesday morning) the maidservant came up to tell methat my brother was ready, and that breakfast also waited for me inthe parlour. I went down with a heart as heavy as my eyes, and receivedgreat acknowledgements and compliments from him on being so soondressed, and ready (as he interpreted it) to continue on our journey.
He had the thought which I had not (for what had I to do with thinking, whohad it not when I stood most in need of it?) to purchase for me a velvethood, and a short cloke, trimmed with silver, without saying any thingto me. He must reward himself, the artful encroacher said, before th
elandlady and her maids and niece, for his forethought; and would salutehis pretty sullen sister!--He took his reward; and, as he said before,a tear with it. While he assured me, still before them [a vile wretch!]that I had nothing to fear from meeting with parents who so dearly lovedme.--
How could I be complaisant, my dear, to such a man as this?
When we had got in the chariot, and it began to move, he asked me,whether I had any objection to go to Lord M.'s Hertfordshire seat? HisLordship, he said, was at his Berkshire one.
I told him, I chose not to go, as yet, to any of his relations; for thatwould indicate a plain defiance to my own. My choice was, to go to aprivate lodging, and for him to be at a distance from me: at least, tillI heard how things were taken by my friends: for that, although I hadbut little hopes of a reconciliation as it was; yet if they knew I wasin his protection, or in that of any of his friends, (which would belooked upon as the same thing,) there would not be room for any hopes atall.
I should govern him as I pleased, he solemnly assured me, in everything. But he still thought London was the best place for me; and if Iwere once safe there, and in a lodging to my liking, he would go to M.Hall. But, as I approved not of London, he would urge it no further.
He proposed, and I consented, to put up at an inn in the neighbourhoodof The Lawn (as he called Lord M.'s seat in this county) since I chosenot to go thither. And here I got two hours to myself; which I told himI should pass in writing another letter to you, (meaning my narrative,which, though greatly fatigued, I had begun at St. Alban's,) and in oneto my sister, to apprise the family (whether they were solicitous aboutit or not) that I was well; and to beg that my clothes, some particularbooks, and the fifty guineas I had left in my escritoire, might be sentme.
He asked, if I had considered whither to have them directed?
Indeed, not I, I told him: I was a stranger to--
So was he, he interrupted me; but it struck him by chance--
Wicked story-teller!
But, added he, I will tell you, Madam, how it shall be managed--Ifyou don't choose to go to London, it is, nevertheless, best that yourrelations should think you there; for then they will absolutely despairof finding you. If you write, be pleased to direct, to be left for you,at Mr. Osgood's, near Soho-square. Mr. Osgood is a man of reputation:and this will effectually amuse them.
Amuse them, my dear!--Amuse whom?--My father!--my uncles!--But it mustbe so!----All his expedients ready, you see!
I had no objection to this: and I have written accordingly. But whatanswer I shall have, or whether any, that is what gives me no smallanxiety.
This, however, is one consolation, that if I have an answer, andalthough my brother should be the writer, it cannot be more severe thanthe treatment I have of late received from him and my sister.
Mr. Lovelace staid out about an hour and half; and then came in;impatiently sending up to me no less than four times, to desireadmittance. But I sent him word as often, that I was busy; and at last,that I should be so, till dinner was ready. He then hastened that, as Iheard him now-and-then, with a hearty curse upon the cook and waiters.
This is another of his perfections. I ventured afterwards to check himfor his free words, as we sat at dinner.
Having heard him swear at his servant, when below, whom, nevertheless,he owns to be a good one; it is a sad life, said I, these innkeeperslive, Mr. Lovelace.
No; pretty well, I believe--but why, Madam, think you, that fellows, whoeat and drink at other men's cost, or they are sorry innkeepers, shouldbe entitled to pity?
Because of the soldiers they are obliged to quarter; who are generally,I believe, wretched profligates. Bless me! said I, how I heard one ofthem swear and curse, just now, at a modest, meek man, as I judge by hislow voice, and gentle answers!--Well do they make it a proverb--Like atrooper!
He bit his lip; arose; turned upon his heel; stept to the glass; andlooking confidently abashed, if I may say so, Ay, Madam, said he,these troopers are sad swearing fellows. I think their officers shouldchastise them for it.
I am sure they deserve chastisement, replied I: for swearing is a mostunmanly vice, and cursing as poor and low a one; since they proclaim theprofligate's want of power, and his wickedness at the same time; for,could such a one punish as he speaks, he would be a fiend!
Charmingly observed, by my soul, Madam!--The next trooper I hear swearand curse, I'll tell him what an unmanly, and what a poor wretch he is.
Mrs. Greme came to pay her duty to me, as Mr. Lovelace called it; andwas very urgent with me to go to her lord's house; letting me know whathandsome things she had heard of her lord, and his two nieces, and allthe family, say of me; and what wishes for several months past they hadput up for the honour she now hoped would soon be done them all.
This gave me some satisfaction, as it confirmed from the mouth of a verygood sort of woman all that Mr. Lovelace had told me.
Upon inquiry about a private lodging, she recommended me to asister-in-law of hers, eight miles from thence--where I now am. And whatpleased me the better, was, that Mr. Lovelace (of whom I could see shewas infinitely observant) obliged her, of his own motion, to accompanyme in the chaise; himself riding on horseback, with his two servants,and one of Lord M.'s. And here we arrived about four o'clock.
But, as I told you in my former, the lodgings are inconvenient. Mr.Lovelace indeed found great fault with them: and told Mrs. Greme (whohad said, that they were not worthy of us) that they came not up even toher own account of them. As the house was a mile from a town, it was notproper for him, he said, to be so far distant from me, lest any thingshould happen: and yet the apartments were not separate and distinctenough for me to like them, he was sure.
This must be agreeable enough for him, you will believe.
Mrs. Greme and I had a good deal of talk in the chaise about him: shewas very easy and free in her answers to all I asked; and has, I find, avery serious turn.
I led her on to say to the following effect; some part of it not unlikewhat Lord M.'s dismissed bailiff had said before; by which I find thatall the servants have a like opinion of him.
'That Mr. Lovelace was a generous man: that it was hard to say, whetherthe servants of her lord's family loved or feared him most: that herlord had a very great affection for him: that his two noble aunts werenot less fond of him: that his cousins Montague were as good naturedyoung ladies as ever lived: that Lord M. and Lady Sarah, and Lady Bettyhad proposed several ladies to him, before he made his addresses to me:and even since; despairing to move me and my friends in his favour.--Butthat he had no thoughts of marrying at all, she had heard him say, if itwere not to me: that as well her lord as the two ladies his sisters werea good deal concerned at the ill-usage he received from my family: butadmired my character, and wished to have him married to me (although Iwere not to have a shilling) in preference to any other person, from theopinion they had of the influence I should have over him. That, to besure, Mr. Lovelace was a wild gentleman: but wildness was a distemperwhich would cure itself. That her lord delighted in his company,whenever he could get it: but that they often fell out; and his lordshipwas always forced to submit--indeed, was half afraid of him, shebelieved; for Mr. Lovelace would do as he pleased. She mingled athousand pities often, that he acted not up to the talents lent him--yetwould have it, that he had fine qualities to found a reformation upon:and, when the happy day came, would make amends for all: and of this allhis friends were so assured, that they wished for nothing so earnestly,as for his marriage.'
This, indifferent as it is, is better than my brother says of him.
The people of the house here are very honest-looking industrious folks:Mrs. Sorlings is the gentlewoman's name. The farm seems well stocked,and thriving. She is a widow; has two sons, men grown, who vie with eachother which shall take most pains in promoting the common good; and theyare both of them, I already see, more respectful to two modest youngwomen their sisters, than my brother was to his sister.
I believe I must sta
y here longer than at first I thought I should.
I ought to have mentioned, that, before I set out for this place, Ireceived your kind letter.* Every thing is kind from so dear a friend.
* See Vol. II. Letter XLVII.
I own, that after I had told you of my absolute determination not to goaway with him, you might well be surprised, at your first hearing thatI was actually gone. The Lord bless me, my dear, I myself, at times, canhardly believe it is I, that have been led to take so strange a step.
I have not the better opinion of Mr. Lovelace for his extravagantvolubility. He is too full of professions. He says too many fine thingsof me, and to me. True respect, true value, I think, lies not in words:words cannot express it: the silent awe, the humble, the doubting eye,and even the hesitating voice, better shew it by much, than, as ourbeloved Shakespeare says,
----The rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
The man indeed at times is all upon the ecstatic; one of his phrases.But, to my shame and confusion, I must say, that I know too well to whatto attribute his transports. In one word, it is to his triumph, mydear. And, to impute it to that perhaps equally exposes my vanity, andcondemns my folly.
We have been alarmed with notions of a pursuit, founded upon a letterfrom his intelligencer.
How do different circumstances either sanctify or condemn the sameaction!--What care ought we to take not to confound the distinctions ofright and wrong, when self comes in the question!--I condemned in Mr.Lovelace the corrupting of a servant of my father's; and now I am gladto give a kind of indirect approbation of that fault, by inquiring ofhim what he hears, by that or any other way, of the manner in which myrelations took my flight. A preconcerted, forward, and artful flight, itmust undoubtedly appear to them. How grievous is that to think of! yethow, as long as I am situated, can I put them right?
Most heavily, he says, they take it; but shew not so much grief as rage.And he can hardly have patience to hear of the virulence and menacesof my brother against himself. Then a merit is made to me of hisforbearance.
What a satisfaction am I robbed of, my dearest friend, when I reflectupon my inconsiderateness! O that I had it still in my power to say Isuffered wrong, rather than did wrong! That others were more wanting intheir kindness to me than I duty (where duty is owing) to them.
Fie upon me! for meeting the seducer!--Let all end as happily as it nowmay, I have laid up for myself remorse for my whole life.
What still more concerns me is, that every time I see this man, I amstill at a greater loss than before what to make of him. I watch everyturn of his countenance: and I think I see very deep lines in it. Helooks with more meaning, I verily think, than he used to look; yet notmore serious; not less gay--I don't know how he looks--but with moreconfidence a great deal than formerly; and yet he never wanted that.
But here is the thing; I behold him with fear now, as conscious of thepower my indiscretion has given him over me. And well may he look moreelate, when he sees me deprived of all the self-supposed significance,which adorns and exalts a person who has been accustomed to respect; andwho now, by a conscious inferiority, allows herself to be overcome,and in a state of obligation, as I may say, to a man who from a humblesuitor to her for her favour, assumes the consequence and airs of aprotector.
I shall send this, as my former, by a poor man, who travels every daywith pedlary matters. He will leave it at Mrs. Knolly's, as you direct.
If you hear any thing of my father and mother, and of their health, andhow my friends were affected by my unhappy step, pray be so good as towrite me a few lines by the messenger, if his waiting for them can beknown to you.
I am afraid to ask you, Whether, upon reading that part of my narrativealready in your hands, you think any sort of extenuation lies for
Your unhappy CLARISSA HARLOWE?