LETTER XIX
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, THREE O'CLOCK, MARCH 28.
I have mentioned several times the pertness of Mrs. Betty to me;and now, having a little time upon my hands, I will give you a shortdialogue that passed just now between us. It may, perhaps, be a littlerelief to you from the dull subjects with which I am perpetually teasingyou.
As she attended me at dinner, she took notice, That Nature is satisfiedwith a very little nourishment: and thus she complimentally provedit--For, Miss, said she, you eat nothing; yet never looked morecharmingly in your life.
As to the former part of your speech, Betty, said I, you observe well;and I have often thought, when I have seen how healthy the children ofthe labouring poor look, and are, with empty stomachs, and hardly a goodmeal in a week, that God Almighty is very kind to his creatures, in thisrespect, as well as in all others in making much not necessary to thesupport of life; when three parts in four of His creatures, if it were,would not know how to obtain it. It puts me in mind of two proverbialsentences which are full of admirable meaning.
What, pray, Miss, are they? I love to hear you talk, when you are sosedate as you seem now to be.
The one is to the purpose we are speaking of: Poverty is the mother ofhealth. And let me tell you, Betty, if I had a better appetite, andwere to encourage it, with so little rest, and so much distress andpersecution, I don't think I should be able to preserve my reason.
There's no inconvenience but has its convenience, said Betty, giving meproverb for proverb. But what is the other, Madam?
That the pleasures of the mighty are not obtained by the tears of thepoor. It is but reasonable, therefore, methinks, that the plenty ofthe one should be followed by distempers; and that the indigence of theother should be attended with that health, which makes all its otherdiscomforts light on the comparison. And hence a third proverb, Betty,since you are an admirer of proverbs: Better a hare-foot than none atall; that is to say, than not to be able to walk.
She was mightily taken with what I said: See, returned she, what a finething scholarship is!--I, said she, had always, from a girl, a taste forreading, though it were but in Mother Goose, and concerning the fairies[and then she took genteelly a pinch of snuff]: could but my parentshave let go as fast as I pulled, I should have been a very happycreature.
Very likely, you would have made great improvements, Betty: but as itis, I cannot say, but since I had the favour of your attendance in thisintimate manner, I have heard smarter things from you, than I have heardat table from some of my brother's fellow-collegians.
Your servant, dear Miss; dropping me one of her best courtesies: sofine a judge as you are!--It is enough to make one very proud. Then withanother pinch--I cannot indeed but say, bridling upon it, that I haveheard famous scholars often and often say very silly things: thingsI should be ashamed myself to say; but I thought they did it out ofhumility, and in condescension to those who had not their learning.
That she might not be too proud, I told her, I would observe, that theliveliness or quickness she so happily discovered in herself, was notso much an honour to her, as what she owed to her sex; which, as I hadobserved in many instances, had great advantages over the other, in allthe powers that related to imagination. And hence, Mrs. Betty, you'lltake notice, as I have of late had opportunity to do, that your owntalent at repartee and smartness, when it has something to work upon,displays itself to more advantage, than could well be expected from onewhose friends, to speak in your own phrase, could not let go so fast asyou pulled.
The wench gave me a proof of the truth of my observation, in a mannerstill more alert than I had expected: If, said she, our sex had so muchadvantage in smartness, it is the less to be wondered at, that you,Miss, who have had such an education, should outdo all the men and womentoo, that come near you.
Bless me, Betty, said I, what a proof do you give me of your wit andyour courage at the same time! This is outdoing yourself. It would makeyoung ladies less proud, and more apprehensive, were they generallyattended by such smart servants, and their mouths permitted to beunlocked upon them as yours has been lately upon me.--But, take away,Mrs. Betty.
Why, Miss, you have eat nothing at all--I hope you are not displeasedwith your dinner for any thing I have said.
No, Mrs. Betty, I am pretty well used to your freedoms now, you know.--Iam not displeased in the main, to observe, that, were the succession ofmodern fine ladies to be extinct, it might be supplied from those whomthey place in the next rank to themselves, their chamber-maids andconfidants. Your young mistress has contributed a great deal to thisquickness of yours. She always preferred your company to mine. Asyou pulled, she let go; and so, Mrs. Betty, you have gained by herconversation what I have lost.
Why, Miss, if you come to that, nobody says better things than MissHarlowe. I could tell you one, if I pleased, upon my observing to her,that you lived of late upon the air, and had no stomach to any thing;yet looked as charmingly as ever.
I dare say, it was a very good-natured one, Mrs. Betty! Do you thenplease that I shall hear it?
Only this, Miss, That your stomachfulness had swallowed up your stomach;and, That obstinacy was meat, drink, and clothes to you.
Ay, Mrs. Betty; and did she say this?--I hope she laughed when she saidit, as she does at all her good things, as she calls them. It was verysmart, and very witty. I wish my mind were so much at ease, as to aim atbeing witty too. But if you admire such sententious sayings, I'll helpyou to another; and that is, Encouragement and approbation make peopleshow talents they were never suspected to have; and this will do bothfor mistress and maid. And another I'll furnish you with, thecontrary of the former, that will do only for me: That persecution anddiscouragement depress ingenuous minds, and blunt the edge of livelyimaginations. And hence may my sister's brilliancy and my stupidity beboth accounted for. Ingenuous, you must know, Mrs. Betty, and ingenious,are two things; and I would not arrogate the latter to myself.
Lord, Miss, said the foolish girl, you know a great deal for youryears.--You are a very learned young lady!--What pity--
None of your pitties, Mrs. Betty, I know what you'd say. But tell me, ifyou can, Is it resolved that I shall be carried to my uncle Antony's onThursday?
I was willing to reward myself for the patience she had made meexercise, by getting at what intelligence I could from her.
Why, Miss, seating herself at a little distance (excuse my sitting down)with the snuff-box tapped very smartly, the lid opened, and apinch taken with a dainty finger and thumb, the other three fingersdistendedly bent, and with a fine flourish--I cannot but say, that it ismy opinion, you will certainly go on Thursday; and this noless foless,as I have heard my young lady say in FRENCH.
Whether I am willing or not willing, you mean, I suppose, Mrs. Betty?
You have it, Miss.
Well but, Betty, I have no mind to be turned out of doors so suddenly.Do you think I could not be permitted to tarry one week longer?
How can I tell, Miss?
O Mrs. Betty, you can tell a great deal, if you please. But here I amforbid writing to any one of my family; none of it now will come nearme; nor will any of it permit me to see them: How shall I do to makeknown my request, to stay here a week or fortnight longer?
Why, Miss, I fancy, if you were to shew a compliable temper, yourfriends would shew a compliable one too. But would you expect favours,and grant none?
Smartly put, Betty! But who knows what may be the result of my beingcarried to my uncle Antony's?
Who knows, Miss!--Why any body will guess what may be the result.
As how, Betty?
As how! repeated the pert wench, Why, Miss, you will stand in your ownlight, as you have hitherto done: and your parents, as such good parentsought, will be obeyed.
If, Mrs. Betty, I had not been used to your oughts, and to have my dutylaid down to me by your oraculous wisdom I should be apt to stare at theliberty of you speech.
You seem angry, Miss
. I hope I take no unbecoming liberty.
If thou really thinkest thou dost not, thy ignorance is more to bepitied, than thy pertness resented. I wish thou wouldst leave me tomyself.
When young ladies fall out with their own duty, it is not much to bewondered at, that they are angry at any body who do theirs.
That's a very pretty saying, Mrs. Betty!--I see plainly what thy duty isin thy notion, and am obliged to those who taught it thee.
Every body takes notice, Miss, that you can say very cutting words in acool manner, and yet not call names, as I have known some gentlefolksas well as others do when in a passion. But I wish you had permitted'Squire Solmes to see you: he would have told you such stories of'Squire Lovelace, as you would have turned your heart against him forever.
And know you any of the particulars of those sad stories?
Indeed I don't; but you'll hear all at your uncle Antony's, I suppose;and a great deal more perhaps than you will like to hear.
Let me hear what I will, I am determined against Mr. Solmes, were it tocost me my life.
If you are, Miss, the Lord have mercy on you! For what with this letterof yours to 'Squire Solmes, whom they so much value, and what withtheir antipathy to 'Squire Lovelace, whom they hate, they will have nopatience with you.
What will they do, Betty? They won't kill me? What will they do?
Kill you! No!--But you will not be suffered to stir from thence, tillyou have complied with your duty. And no pen and ink will be allowed youas here; where they are of opinion you make no good use of it: nor wouldit be allowed here, only as they intend so soon to send you away to youruncle's. No-body will be permitted to see you, or to correspond withyou. What farther will be done, I can't say; and, if I could, it may notbe proper. But you may prevent all, by one word: and I wish you would,Miss. All then would be easy and happy. And, if I may speak my mind, Isee not why one man is not as good as another: why, especially, a soberman is not as good as a rake.
Well, Betty, said I, sighing, all thy impertinence goes for nothing. ButI see I am destined to be a very unhappy creature. Yet I will ventureupon one request more to them.
And so, quite sick of the pert creature and of myself, I retired to mycloset, and wrote a few lines to my uncle Harlowe, notwithstanding hisprohibition; in order to get a reprieve from being carried away so soonas Thursday next, if I must go. And this, that I might, if compliedwith, suspend the appointment I have made with Mr. Lovelace; for myheart misgives me as to meeting him; and that more and more; I know notwhy. Under the superscription of the letter, I wrote these words: 'Pray,dear Sir, be pleased to give this a reading.'
This is a copy of what I wrote:
TUESDAY AFTERNOON.
HONOURED SIR,
Let me this once be heard with patience, and have my petition granted.It is only, that I may not be hurried away so soon as next Thursday.
Why should the poor girl be turned out of doors so suddenly, sodisgracefully? Procure for me, Sir, one fortnight's respite. In thatspace of time, I hope you will all relent. My mamma shall not need toshut her door in apprehension of seeing her disgraceful child. I willnot presume to think of entering her presence, or my papa's withoutleave. One fortnight's respite is but a small favour for them to grant,except I am to be refused every thing I ask; but it is of the highestimport to my peace of mind. Procure it for me, therefore, dearest Sir;and you will exceedingly oblige
Your dutiful, though greatly afflicted niece, CL. HARLOWE.
I sent this down: my uncle was not gone: and he now stays to know theresult of the question put to me in the enclosed answer which he hasgiven to mind.
Your going to your uncle's was absolutely concluded upon for nextThursday. Nevertheless, your mother, seconded by Mr. Solmes, pleadedso strongly to have you indulged, that your request for a delay willbe complied with, upon one condition; and whether for a fortnight, ora shorter time, that will depend upon yourself. If you refuse thecondition, your mother declares she will give over all furtherintercession for you.--Nor do you deserve this favour, as you put itupon our yielding to you, not you to us.
This condition is, that you admit of a visit from Mr. Solmes, for onehour, in company of your brother, your sister, or your uncle Antony,choose who you will.
If you comply not, go next Thursday to a house which is become strangelyodious to you of late, whether you get ready to go or not. Answertherefore directly to the point. No evasion. Name your day and hour. Mr.Solmes will neither eat you, nor drink you. Let us see, whether we areto be complied with in any thing, or not.
JOHN HARLOWE.
*****
After a very little deliberation, I resolved to comply with thiscondition. All I fear is, that Mr. Lovelace's intelligencer may informhim of it; and that his apprehensions upon it may make him take somedesperate resolution: especially as now (having more time given me here)I think to write to him to suspend the interview he is possibly so sureof. I sent down the following to my uncle:
HONOURED SIR,
Although I see not what end the proposed condition can answer, I complywith it. I wish I could with every thing expected of me. If I must nameone, in whose company I am to see the gentleman, and that one not mymamma, whose presence I could wish to be honoured by on the occasion,let my uncle, if he pleases, be the person. If I must name the day, (along day, I doubt, will not be permitted me,) let it be next Tuesday.
The hour, four in the afternoon. The place either the ivy summer-house,or in the little parlour I used to be permitted to call mine.
Be pleased, Sir, nevertheless, to prevail upon my mamma, to vouchsafe meher presence on the occasion.
I am, Sir, your ever-dutiful CL. HARLOWE.
A reply is just sent me. I thought it became my averseness to thismeeting, to name a distant day: but I did not expect they would havecomplied with it. So here is one week gained!
This is the reply:
You have done well to comply. We are willing to think the best of everyslight instance of duty from you. Yet have you seemed to consider theday as an evil day, and so put if far off. This nevertheless is grantedyou, as no time need to be lost, if you are as generous after the day,as we are condescending before it. Let me advise you, not to harden yourmind; nor take up your resolution beforehand. Mr. Solmes has more awe,and even terror, at the thought of seeing you, than you can have at thethoughts of seeing him. His motive is love; let not yours be hatred. Mybrother Antony will be present, in hopes you will deserve well of him,by behaving well to the friend of the family. See you use him as such.Your mother had permission to be there, if she thought fit: but says,she would not for a thousand pound, unless you would encourage herbeforehand as she wishes to be encouraged. One hint I am to give youmean time. It is this: To make a discreet use of your pen and ink.Methinks a young creature of niceness should be less ready to write toone man, when she is designed to be another's.
This compliance, I hope, will produce greater, and then the peace of thefamily will be restored: which is what is heartily wished by
Your loving uncle, JOHN HARLOWE.
Unless it be to the purpose our hearts are set upon, you need not writeagain.
*****
This man have more terror at seeing me, than I can have at seeinghim!--How can that be? If he had half as much, he would not wish to seeme!--His motive love!--Yes, indeed! Love of himself! He knows no other;for love, that deserves the name, seeks the satisfaction of the belovedobject more than its own. Weighed in this scale, what a profanation isthis man guilty of!
Not to take up my resolution beforehand!--That advice comes too late.
But I must make a discreet use of my pen. That, I doubt, as they havemanaged it, in the sense they mean it, is as much out of my power, asthe other.
But write to one man, when I am designed for another!--What a shockingexpression is that!
Repenting of my appointment with Mr. Lovelace before I had this favourgranted me, you may believe I hesitated not a moment to revoke it nowthat I had gained such a r
espite. Accordingly, I wrote, 'That I foundit inconvenient to meet him, as I had intended: that the risque I shouldrun of a discovery, and the mischiefs that might flow from it, could notbe justified by any end that such a meeting could answer: that I foundone certain servant more in my way, when I took my morning and eveningairings, than any other: that the person who might reveal the secretsof a family to him, might, if opportunity were given him, betray me, orhim, to those whom it was his duty to serve: that I had not been used toa conduct so faulty, as to lay myself at the mercy of servants: and wassorry he had measures to pursue, that made steps necessary in his ownopinion, which, in mine, were very culpable, and which no end couldjustify: that things drawing towards a crisis between my friends and me,an interview could avail nothing; especially as the method by which thiscorrespondence was carried on was not suspected, and he could write allthat was in his mind to write: that I expected to be at liberty to judgeof what was proper and fit upon this occasion: especially as he might beassured, that I would sooner choose death, than Mr. Solmes.'
TUESDAY NIGHT.
I have deposited my letter to Mr. Lovelace. Threatening as things lookagainst me, I am much better pleased with myself for declining theinterview than I was before. I suppose he will be a little out of humourupon it, however: but as I reserved to myself the liberty of changing mymind; and as it is easy for him to imagine there may be reasons for itwithin-doors, which he cannot judge of without; besides those I havesuggested, which of themselves are of sufficient weight to engage hisacquiescence; I should think it strange, if he acquiesces not on thisoccasion, and that with a cheerfulness, which may shew me, that his lastletter is written from his heart: For, if he be really so much concernedat his past faults, as he pretends, and has for some time pretended,must he not, of course, have corrected, in some degree, the impetuosityof his temper? The first step to reformation, as I conceive, is tosubdue sudden gusts of passion, from which frequently the greatest evilsarise, and to learn to bear disappointments. If the irascible passionscannot be overcome, what opinion can we have of the person's power overthose to which bad habit, joined to greater temptation, gives strongerforce?
Pray, my dear, be so kind as to make inquiry, by some safe hand, afterthe disguises Mr. Lovelace assumes at the inn he puts up at in the poorvillage of Neale, he calls it. If it be the same I take it to be, Inever knew it was considerable enough to have a name; nor that it has aninn in it.
As he must, to be so constantly near us, be much there, I would be gladto have some account of his behaviour; and what the people think of him.In such a length of time, he must by his conduct either give scandal,or hope of reformation. Pray, my dear, humour me in this inquiry. I havereason for it, which you shall be acquainted with another time, if theresult of the inquiry discover them not.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2 Page 21
