Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2

by Samuel Richardson

  LETTER XXXIX

  MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY NIGHT.

  This alarming hurry I mentioned under my date of last night, and Betty'ssaucy dark hints, come out to be owing to what I guessed they were; thatis to say, to the private intimation Mr. Lovelace contrived our familyshould have of his insolent resolution [insolent I must call it] toprevent my being carried to my uncle's.

  I saw at the time that it was as wrong with respect to answering his ownview, as it was insolent: For, could he think, as Betty (I suppose fromher betters) justly observed, that parents would be insulted out oftheir right to dispose of their own child, by a violent man, whom theyhate; and who could have no pretension to dispute that right with them,unless what he had from her who had none over herself? And how mustthis insolence of his, aggravated as my brother is able to aggravate it,exasperate them against me?

  The rash man has indeed so far gained his point, as to intimidate themfrom attempting to carry me away: but he has put them upon a surer anda more desperate measure: and this has driven me also into one asdesperate; the consequence of which, although he could not foresee it,*may perhaps too well answer his great end, little as he deserves to haveit answered.

  * She was mistaken in this. Mr. Lovelace did foresee this consequence. All his contrivances led to it, and the whole family, as he boasts, unknown to themselves, were but so many puppets danced by his wires. See Vol.I. Letter XXXI.

  In short, I have done, as far as I know, the most rash thing that ever Idid in my life.

  But let me give you the motive, and then the action will follow ofcourse.

  About six o'clock this evening, my aunt (who stays here all night, on myaccount, no doubt) came up and tapped at my door; for I was writing;and had locked myself in. I opened it; and she entering, thus deliveredherself:

  I come once more to visit you, my dear; but sorely against my will;because it is to impart to you matters of the utmost concern to you, andto the whole family.

  What, Madam, is now to be done with me? said I, wholly attentive.

  You will not be hurried away to your uncle's, child; let that comfortyou.--They see your aversion to go.--You will not be obliged to go toyour uncle Antony's.

  How you revive me, Madam! this is a cordial to my heart!

  I little thought, my dear, what was to follow this supposedcondescension.

  And then I ran over with blessings for this good news, (and shepermitted me so to do, by her silence); congratulating myself, thatI thought my father could not resolve to carry things to the lastextremity.--

  Hold, Niece, said she, at last--you must not give yourself too much joyupon the occasion neither.--Don't be surprised, my dear.--Why look youupon me, child, with so affecting an earnestness?--but you must be Mrs.Solmes, for all that.

  I was dumb.

  She then told me, that they had undoubted information, that a certaindesperate ruffian (I must excuse her that word, she said) had preparedarmed men to way-lay my brother and uncles, and seize me, and carry meoff.--Surely, she said, I was not consenting to a violence that might befollowed by murder on one side or the other; perhaps on both.

  I was still silent.

  That therefore my father (still more exasperated than before) hadchanged his resolution as to my going to my uncle's; and was determinednext Tuesday to set out thither himself with my mother; and that (forit was to no purpose to conceal a resolution so soon to be put intoexecution)--I must not dispute it any longer--on Wednesday I must givemy hand--as they would have me.

  She proceeded, that orders were already given for a license: that theceremony was to be performed in my own chamber, in presence of all myfriends, except of my father and mother; who would not return, nor seeme, till all was over, and till they had a good account of my behaviour.

  The very intelligence, my dear!--the very intelligence this, whichLovelace gave me!

  I was still dumb--only sighing, as if my heart would break.

  She went on, comforting me, as she thought. 'She laid before me themerit of obedience; and told me, that if it were my desire that myNorton should be present at the ceremony, it would be complied with:that the pleasure I should receive from reconciling al my friends to me,and in their congratulations upon it, must needs overbalance, with sucha one as me, the difference of persons, however preferable I might thinkthe one man to the other: that love was a fleeting thing, little betterthan a name, where mortality and virtue did not distinguish the objectof it: that a choice made by its dictates was seldom happy; at least notdurably so: nor was it to be wondered at, when it naturally exalted theobject above its merits, and made the lover blind to faults, that werevisible to every body else: so that when a nearer intimacy stript it ofits imaginary perfections, it left frequently both parties surprised,that they could be so grossly cheated; and that then the indifferencebecame stronger than the love ever was. That a woman gave a man greatadvantages, and inspired him with great vanity, when she avowed herlove for him, and preference of him; and was generally requited withinsolence and contempt: whereas the confessedly-obliged man, it wasprobable, would be all reverence and gratitude'--and I cannot tell what.

  'You, my dear, said she, believe you shall be unhappy, if you haveMr. Solmes: your parents think the contrary; and that you will beundoubtedly so, were you to have Mr. Lovelace, whose morals areunquestionably bad: suppose it were your sad lot to consider, whatgreat consolation you will have on one hand, if you pursue your parents'advice, that you did so; what mortification on the other, that byfollowing your own, you have nobody to blame but yourself.'

  This, you remember, my dear, was an argument enforced upon me by Mrs.Norton.

  These and other observations which she made were worthy of my auntHervey's good sense and experience, and applied to almost any youngcreature who stood in opposition to her parents' will, but one who hadoffered to make the sacrifices I have offered to make, ought to have hadtheir due weight. But although it was easy to answer some of them in myown particular case; yet having over and over, to my mother, before myconfinement, and to my brother and sister, and even to my aunt Hervey,since, said what I must now have repeated, I was so much mortified andafflicted at the cruel tidings she brought me, that however attentive Iwas to what she said, I had neither power nor will to answer one word;and, had she not stopped of herself, she might have gone on an hourlonger, without interruption from me.

  Observing this, and that I only sat weeping, my handkerchief coveringmy face, and my bosom heaving ready to burst; What! no answer, mydear?--Why so much silent grief? You know I have always loved you. Youknow, that I have no interest in the affair. You would not permit Mr.Solmes to acquaint you with some things which would have set your heartagainst Mr. Lovelace. Shall I tell you some of the matters chargedagainst him?--shall I, my dear?

  Still I answered only by my tears and sighs.

  Well, child, you shall be told these things afterwards, when you will bein a better state of mind to hear them; and then you will rejoice in theescape you will have had. It will be some excuse, then, for you to pleadfor your behaviour to Mr. Solmes, that you could not have believed Mr.Lovelace had been so very vile a man.

  My heart fluttered with impatience and anger at being so plainly talkedto as the wife of this man; but yet I then chose to be silent. If I hadspoken, it would have been with vehemence.

  Strange, my dear, such silence!--Your concern is infinitely more on thisside the day, than it will be on the other.--But let me ask you, and donot be displeased, Will you choose to see what generous stipulationsfor you there are in the settlements?--You have knowledge beyond youryears--give the writings a perusal: do, my dear: they are engrossed, andready for signing, and have been for some time. Excuse me, my love--Imean not to disorder you:--your father would oblige me to bring them up,and to leave them with you. He commands you to read them. But to readthem, Niece--since they are engrossed, and were before you made themabsolutely hopeless.

  And then, to my great terror, she drew
some parchments form herhandkerchief, which she had kept, (unobserved by me,) under her apron;and rising, put them in the opposite window. Had she produced a serpent,I could not have been more frightened.

  Oh! my dearest Aunt, turning away my face, and holding out my hands,hide from my eyes those horrid parchments!--Let me conjure you to tellme--by all the tenderness of near relationship, and upon your honour,and by your love for me, say, Are they absolutely resolved, that, comewhat will, I must be that man's?

  My dear, you must have Mr. Solmes: indeed you must.

  Indeed I never will!--This, as I have said over and over, is notoriginally my father's will.--Indeed I never will--and that is all Iwill say!

  It is your father's will now, replied my aunt: and, considering howall the family is threatened by Mr. Lovelace, and the resolution he hascertainly taken to force you out of their hands, I cannot but say theyare in the right, not to be bullied out of their child.

  Well, Madam, then nothing remains for me to say. I am made desperate. Icare not what becomes of me.

  Your piety, and your prudence, my dear, and Mr. Lovelace's immoralcharacter, together with his daring insults, and threatenings, whichought to incense you, as much as any body, are every one's dependence.We are sure the time will come, when you'll think very differently ofthe steps your friends take to disappoint a man who has made himself sojustly obnoxious to them all.

  She withdrew; leaving me full of grief and indignation:--and as muchout of humour with Mr. Lovelace as with any body; who, by his conceitedcontrivances, has made things worse for me than before; depriving meof the hopes I had of gaining time to receive your advice, and privateassistance to get to town; and leaving me not other advice, in allappearance, than either to throw myself upon his family, or to be mademiserable for ever with Mr. Solmes. But I was still resolved to avoidboth these evils, if possible.

  I sounded Betty, in the first place, (whom my aunt sent up, not thinkingit proper, as Betty told me, that I should be left by myself, and who, Ifound, knew their designs,) whether it were not probable that theywould forbear, at my earnest entreaty, to push matters to the threatenedextremity.

  But she confirmed all my aunt said; rejoicing (as she said they all did)that Mr. Lovelace had given them so good a pretence to save me from himnow, and for ever.

  She ran on about equipages bespoken; talked of my brother's and sister'sexultations that now the whole family would soon be reconciled to eachother: of the servants' joy upon it: of the expected license: of a visitto be paid me by Dr. Lewen, or another clergyman, whom they named notto her; which was to crown the work: and of other preparations, soparticular, as made me dread that they designed to surprise me into astill nearer day than Wednesday.

  These things made me excessively uneasy. I knew not what to resolveupon.

  At one time, What have I to do, thought I, but to throw myself at onceinto the protection of Lady Betty Lawrance?--But then, in resentment ofhis fine contrivances, which had so abominably disconcerted me, I soonresolved to the contrary: and at last concluded to ask the favour ofanother half-hour's conversation with my aunt.

  I sent Betty to her with my request.

  She came.

  I put it to her, in the most earnest manner, to tell me, whether I mightnot obtain the favour of a fortnight's respite?

  She assured me, it would not be granted.

  Would a week? Surely a week would?

  She believed a week might, if I would promise two things: the first,upon my honour, not to write a line out of the house, in that week:for it was still suspected, she said, that I found means to write tosomebody. And, secondly, to marry Mr. Solmes, at the expiration of it.

  Impossible! Impossible! I said with a passion--What! might not I beobliged with one week, without such a horrid condition as the last?

  She would go down, she said, that she might not seem of her own head toput upon me what I thought a hardship so great.

  She went down: and came up again.

  Did I want, was the answer, to give the vilest of men an opportunity toput his murderous schemes into execution?--It was time for them to putan end to my obstinacy (they were tired out with me) and to his hopesat once. And an end should be put on Tuesday or Wednesday next, atfurthest; unless I would give my honour to comply with the conditionupon which my aunt had been so good as to allow me a longer time.

  I even stamped with impatience!--I called upon her to witness, thatI was guiltless of the consequence of this compulsion; this barbarouscompulsion, I called it; let that consequence be what it would.

  My aunt chid me in a higher strain than ever she did before.

  While I, in a half phrensy, insisted upon seeing my father; such usage,I said, set me above fear. I would rejoice to owe my death to him, as Idid my life.

  I did go down half way of the stairs, resolved to throw myself at hisfeet wherever he was.--My aunt was frighted. She owned, that she fearedfor my head.--Indeed I was in a perfect phrensy for a few minutes--buthearing my brother's voice, as talking to somebody in my sister'sapartment just by, I stopt; and heard the barbarous designer say,speaking to my sister, This works charmingly, my dear Arabella!

  It does! It does! said she, in an exulting accent.

  Let us keep it up, said my brother.--The villain is caught in his owntrap!--Now must she be what we would have her be.

  Do you keep my father to it; I'll take care of my mother, said Bella.

  Never fear, said he!--and a laugh of congratulation to each other, andderision of me (as I made it out) quite turned my frantic humour into avindictive one.

  My aunt then just coming down to me, and taking my hand led me up; andtried to sooth me.

  My raving was turned into sullenness.

  She preached patience and obedience to me.

  I was silent.

  At last she desired me to assure her, that I would offer no violence tomyself.

  God, I said, had given me more grace, I hoped, than to permit me to beguilty of so horrid a rashness, I was his creature, and not my own.

  She then took leave of me; and I insisted upon her taking down with herthe odious parchments.

  Seeing me in so ill an humour, and very earnest that she should takethem with her, she took them; but said, that my father should not knowthat she did: and hoped I would better consider of the matter, and becalmer next time they were offered to my perusal.

  I revolved after she was gone all that my brother and sister had said.I dwelt upon their triumphings over me; and found rise in my minda rancour that was new to me; and which I could not withstand.--Andputting every thing together, dreading the near day, what could Ido?--Am I in any manner excusable for what I did do?--If I shall becondemned by the world, who know not my provocations, may I be acquittedby you?--If not, I am unhappy indeed!--for this I did.

  Having shaken off the impertinent Betty, I wrote to Mr. Lovelace, tolet him know, 'That all that was threatened at my uncle Antony's, wasintended to be executed here. That I had come to a resolution to throwmyself upon the protection of either of his two aunts, who would affordit me--in short, that by endeavouring to obtain leave on Monday to dinein the ivy summer-house, I would, if possible, meet him without thegarden-door, at two, three, four, or five o'clock on Monday afternoon,as I should be able. That in the mean time he should acquaint me,whether I might hope for either of those ladies' protection: and if Imight, I absolutely insisted that he should leave me with either, and goto London himself, or remain at Lord M.'s; nor offer to visit me, till Iwere satisfied that nothing could be done with my friends in an amicableway; and that I could not obtain possession of my own estate, and leaveto live upon it: and particularly, that he should not hint marriage tome, till I consented to hear him upon that subject.--I added, that ifhe could prevail upon one of the Misses Montague to favour me withher company on the road, it would make me abundantly more easy in thethoughts of carrying into effect a resolution which I had not come to,although so driven, but with the utmost reluctance and concern; andwhich would
throw such a slur upon my reputation in the eye of theworld, as perhaps I should never be able to wipe off.'

  This was the purport of what I wrote; and down into the garden I slidwith it in the dark, which at another time I should not have had thecourage to do; and deposited it, and came up again unknown to any body.

  My mind so dreadfully misgave me when I returned, that, to divert insome measure my increasing uneasiness, I had recourse to my private pen;and in a very short time ran this length.

  And now, that I am come to this part, my uneasy reflections begin againto pour in upon me. Yet what can I do?--I believe I shall take it backagain the first thing in the morning--Yet what can I do?

  And who knows but they may have a still earlier day in their intention,than that which will too soon come?

  I hope to deposit this early in the morning for you, as I shall returnfrom resuming my letter, if I do resume it as my inwardest mind bids me.

  Although it is now near two o'clock, I have a good mind to slide downonce more, in order to take back my letter. Our doors are always lockedand barred up at eleven; but the seats of the lesser hall-windows beingalmost even with the ground without, and the shutters not difficult toopen, I could easily get out.

  Yet why should I be thus uneasy, since, should the letter go, I canbut hear what Mr. Lovelace says to it? His aunts live at too great adistance for him to have an immediate answer from them; so I can scruplegoing to them till I have invitation. I can insist upon one of hiscousins meeting me in the chariot; and may he not be able to obtainthat favour from either of them. Twenty things may happen to afford mea suspension at least: Why should I be so very uneasy?--When likewiseI can take back my letter early, before it is probable he will have thethought of finding it there. Yet he owns he spends three parts of hisdays, and has done for this fortnight past, in loitering about sometimesin one disguise, sometimes in another, besides the attendance given byhis trusty servant when he himself is not in waiting, as he calls it.

  But these strange forebodings!--Yet I can, if you advise, cause thechariot he shall bring with him, to carry me directly to town, whitherin my London scheme, if you were to approve it, I had proposed to go:and this will save you the trouble of procuring for me a vehicle; aswell as prevent any suspicion from your mother of your contributing tomy escape.

  But, solicitous of your advice, and approbation too, if I can have it, Iwill put an end to this letter.

  Adieu, my dearest friend, adieu!