LETTER I
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWEWEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, APRIL 26.
At length, my dearest Miss Howe, I am in London, and in my new lodgings.They are neatly furnished, and the situation, for the town, is pleasant.
But I think you must not ask me how I like the old gentlewoman. Yet sheseems courteous and obliging.--Her kinswomen just appeared to welcome meat my alighting. They seemed to be genteel young women. But more oftheir aunt and them, as I shall see more.
Miss Sorlings has an uncle at Barnet, whom she found so very ill, thather uneasiness, on that account, (having large expectations from him,)made me comply with her desire to stay with him. Yet I wished, as heruncle did not expect her, that she would see me settled in London; andMr. Lovelace was still more earnest that she would, offering to send herback again in a day or two, and urging that her uncle's malady threatenednot a sudden change. But leaving the matter to her choice, after sheknew what would have been mine, she made me not the expected compliment.Mr. Lovelace, however, made her a handsome present at parting.
His genteel spirit, on all occasions, makes me often wish him moreconsistent.
As soon as he arrived, I took possession of my apartment. I shall makegood use of the light closet in it, if I stay here any time.
One of his attendants returns in the morning to The Lawn; and I madewriting to you by him an excuse for my retiring.
And now give me leave to chide you, my dearest friend, for your rash,and I hope revocable resolution not to make Mr. Hickman the happiest manin the world, while my happiness is in suspense. Suppose I were to beunhappy, what, my dear, would this resolution of yours avail me?Marriage is the highest state of friendship: if happy, it lessens ourcares, by dividing them, at the same time that it doubles our pleasuresby a mutual participation. Why, my dear, if you love me, will you notrather give another friend to one who has not two she is sure of? Hadyou married on your mother's last birth-day, as she would have had you,I should not, I dare say, have wanted a refuge; that would have saved memany mortifications, and much disgrace.
***
Here I was broke in upon by Mr. Lovelace; introducing the widow leadingin a kinswoman of her's to attend me, if I approved of her, till myHannah should come, or till I had provided myself with some otherservant. The widow gave her many good qualities; but said, that she hadone great defect; which was, that she could not write, nor read writing;that part of her education having been neglected when she was young; butfor discretion, fidelity, obligingness, she was not to be out-done by anybody. So commented her likewise for her skill at the needle.
As for her defect, I can easily forgive that. She is very likely andgenteel--too genteel indeed, I think, for a servant. But what I likeleast of all in her, she has a strange sly eye. I never saw such an eye;half-confident, I think. But indeed Mrs. Sinclair herself, (for that isthe widow's name,) has an odd winking eye; and her respectfulness seemstoo much studied, methinks, for the London ease and freedom. But peoplecan't help their looks, you know; and after all she is extremely civiland obliging,--and as for the young woman, (Dorcas is her name,) she willnot be long with me.
I accepted her: How could I do otherwise, (if I had had a mind to makeobjections, which, in my present situation, I had not,) her aunt present,and the young woman also present; and Mr. Lovelace officious in hisintroducing them, to oblige me? But, upon their leaving me, I told him,(who seemed inclinable to begin a conversation with me,) that I desiredthat this apartment might be considered as my retirement: that when I sawhim it might be in the dining-room, (which is up a few stairs; for thisback-house, being once two, the rooms do not all of them veryconveniently communicate with each other,) and that I might be as littlebroken in upon as possible, when I am here. He withdrew veryrespectfully to the door, but there stopt; and asked for my company thenin the dining-room. If he were about setting out for other lodgings, Iwould go with him now, I told him; but, if he did not just then go, Iwould first finish my letter to Miss Howe.
I see he has no mind to leave me if he can help it. My brother's schememay give him a pretence to try to engage me to dispense with his promise.But if I now do I must acquit him of it entirely.
My approbation of his tender behaviour in the midst of my grief, hasgiven him a right, as he seems to think, of addressing me with all thefreedom of an approved lover. I see by this man, that when once a womanembarks with this sex, there is no receding. One concession is but theprelude to another with them. He has been ever since Sunday lastcontinually complaining of the distance I keep him at; and thinks himselfentitled now to call in question my value for him; strengthening hisdoubts by my former declared readiness to give him up to a reconciliationwith my friends; and yet has himself fallen off from that obsequioustenderness, if I may couple the words, which drew from me the concessionshe builds upon.
While we were talking at the door, my new servant came up with aninvitation to us both to tea. I said he might accept of it, if hepleased: but I must pursue my writing; and not choosing either tea orsupper, I desired him to make my excuses below, as to both; and informthem of my choice to be retired as much as possible; yet to promise forme my attendance on the widow and her nieces at breakfast in the morning.
He objected particularly in the eye of strangers as to avoiding supper.
You know, said I, and you can tell them, that I seldom eat suppers. Myspirits are low. You must never urge me against a declared choice.Pray, Mr. Lovelace, inform them of all my particularities. If they areobliging, they will allow for them--I come not hither to make newacquaintance.
I have turned over the books I found in my closet; and am not a littlepleased with them; and think the better of the people of the house fortheir sakes.
Stanhope's Gospels; Sharp's, Tillotson's, and South's Sermons; Nelson'sFeasts and Fasts; a Sacramental Piece of the Bishop of Man, and anotherof Dr. Gauden, Bishop of Exeter; and Inett's Devotions, are among thedevout books:--and among those of a lighter turn, the following not ill-chosen ones: A Telemachus, in French; another in English; Steel's,Rowe's, and Shakespeare's Plays; that genteel Comedy of Mr. Cibber, TheCareless Husband, and others of the same author; Dryden's Miscellanies;the Tatlers, Spectators, and Guardians; Pope's, and Swift's, andAddison's Works.
In the blank leaves of the Nelson and Bishop Gauden, is Mrs. Sinclair'sname; and in those of most of the others, either Sarah Martin, or MaryHorton, the names of the two nieces.
***
I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace: and have great reasonto be so, as you will allow, when you have read the conversation I amgoing to give you an account of; for he would not let me rest till I gavehim my company in the dining-room.
He began with letting me know, that he had been out to inquire after thecharacter of the widow, which was the more necessary, he said, as hesupposed that I would expect his frequent absence.
I did, I said; and that he would not think of taking up his lodging inthe same house with me. But what, said I, is the result of your inquiry?
Why, indeed, the widow's character was, in the main, what he liked wellenough. But as it was Miss Howe's opinion, as I had told him, that mybrother had not given over his scheme; as the widow lived by lettinglodgings, and had others to let in the same part of the house, whichmight be taken by an enemy; he knew no better way than for him to takethem all, as it could not be for a long time, unless I would think ofremoving to others.
So far was well enough. But as it was easy for me to see, that he spokethe slighter of the widow, in order to have a pretence to lodge herehimself, I asked him his intention in that respect. And he franklyowned, that if I chose to stay here, he could not, as matters stood,think of leaving me for six hours together; and he had prepared the widowto expect, that we should be here but for a few days; only till we couldfix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition; and this, that Imight be under the less embarrassment, if I pleased to remove.
Fix our-selves in a house, and we, and o
ur, Mr. Lovelace--Pray, in whatlight--
He interrupted me--Why, my dearest life, if you will hear me withpatience--yet, I am half afraid that I have been too forward, as I havenot consulted you upon it--but as my friends in town, according to whatMr. Doleman has written, in the letter you have seen, conclude us to bemarried--
Surely, Sir, you have not presumed--
Hear me out, my dearest creature--you have received with favour, myaddresses: you have made me hope for the honour of your consenting hand:yet, by declining my most fervent tender of myself to you at Mrs.Sorlings's, have given me apprehensions of delay: I would not for theworld be thought so ungenerous a wretch, now you have honoured me withyour confidence, as to wish to precipitate you. Yet your brother'sschemes are not given up. Singleton, I am afraid, is actually in town;his vessel lies at Rotherhithe--your brother is absent from Harlowe-place; indeed not with Singleton yet, as I can hear. If you are knownto be mine, or if you are but thought to be so, there will probably be anend of your brother's contrivances. The widow's character may be asworthy as it is said to be. But the worthier she is, the more danger,if your brother's agent should find us out; since she may be persuaded,that she ought in conscience to take a parent's part against a child whostands in opposition to them. But if she believes us married, her goodcharacter will stand us instead, and give her a reason why two apartmentsare requisite for us at the hour of retirement.
I perfectly raved at him. I would have flung from him in resentment; buthe would not let me: and what could I do? Whither go, the eveningadvanced?
I am astonished at you! said I.--If you are a man of honour, what need ofall this strange obliquity? You delight in crooked ways--let me know,since I must stay in your company (for he held my hand), let me know allyou have said to the people below.--Indeed, indeed, Mr. Lovelace, you area very unaccountable man.
My dearest creature, need I to have mentioned any thing of this? andcould I not have taken up my lodgings in this house unknown to you, if Ihad not intended to make you the judge of all my proceedings?--But thisis what I have told the widow before her kinswomen, and before your newservant--'That indeed we were privately married at Hertford; but that youhad preliminarily bound me under a solemn vow, which I am mostreligiously resolved to keep, to be contented with separate apartments,and even not to lodge under the same roof, till a certain reconciliationshall take place, which is of high consequence to both.' And furtherthat I might convince you of the purity of my intentions, and that mywhole view in this was to prevent mischief, I have acquainted them, 'thatI have solemnly promised to behave to you before every body, as if wewere only betrothed, and not married; not even offering to take any ofthose innocent freedoms which are not refused in the most punctiliousloves.'
And then he solemnly vowed to me the strictest observance of the samerespectful behaviour to me.
I said, that I was not by any means satisfied with the tale he had told,nor with the necessity he wanted to lay me under of appearing what I wasnot: that every step he took was a wry one, a needless wry one: and sincehe thought it necessary to tell the people below any thing about me, Iinsisted that he should unsay all he had said, and tell them the truth.
What he had told them, he said, was with so many circumstances, that hecould sooner die than contradict it. And still he insisted upon thepropriety of appearing to be married, for the reasons he had givenbefore--And, dearest creature, said he, why this high displeasure withme upon so well-intended an expedient? You know, that I cannot wish toshun your brother, or his Singleton, but upon your account. The firststep I would take, if left to myself, would be to find them out. I havealways acted in this manner, when any body has presumed to give outthreatenings against it.
'Tis true I would have consulted you first, and had your leave. Butsince you dislike what I have said, let me implore you, dearest Madam,to give the only proper sanction to it, by naming an early day. Would toHeaven that were to be to-morrow!--For God's sake, let it be to-morrow!But, if not, [was it his business, my dear, before I spoke (yet he seemedto be afraid of me) to say, if not?] let me beseech you, Madam, if mybehaviour shall not be to your dislike, that you will not to-morrow, atbreakfast-time, discredit what I have told them. The moment I give youcause to think that I take any advantage of your concession, that momentrevoke it, and expose me, as I shall deserve.--And once more, let meremind you, that I have no view either to serve or save myself by thisexpedient. It is only to prevent a probable mischief, for your ownmind's sake; and for the sake of those who deserve not the leastconsideration from me.
What could I say? What could I do?--I verily think, that had he urged meagain, in a proper manner, I should have consented (little satisfied as Iam with him) to give him a meeting to-morrow morning at a more solemnplace than in the parlour below.
But this I resolve, that he shall not have my consent to stay a nightunder this roof. He has now given me a stronger reason for thisdetermination than I had before.
***
Alas! my dear, how vain a thing to say, what we will, or what we will notdo, when we have put ourselves into the power of this sex!--He went downto the people below, on my desiring to be left to myself; and staid tilltheir supper was just ready; and then, desiring a moment's audience, ashe called it, he besought my leave to stay that one night, promising toset out either for Lord M.'s, or for Edgeware, to his friend Belford's,in the morning, after breakfast. But if I were against it, he said, hewould not stay supper; and would attend me about eight next day--yet headded, that my denial would have a very particular appearance to thepeople below, from what he had told them; and the more, as he hadactually agreed for all the vacant apartments, (indeed only for a month,)for the reasons he before hinted at: but I need not stay here two days,if, upon conversing with the widow and her nieces in the morning, Ishould have any dislike to them.
I thought, notwithstanding my resolution above-mentioned, that it wouldseem too punctilious to deny him, under the circumstances he hadmentioned: having, besides, no reason to think he would obey me; for helooked as if he were determined to debate the matter with me. And now,as I see no likelihood of a reconciliation with my friends, and as I haveactually received his addresses, I thought I would not quarrel with him,if I could help it, especially as he asked to stay but for one night, andcould have done so without my knowing it; and you being of opinion, thatthe proud wretch, distrusting his own merits with me, or at least myregard for him, will probably bring me to some concessions in his favour--for all these reasons, I thought proper to yield this point: yet I wasso vexed with him on the other, that it was impossible for me to complywith that grace which a concession should be made with, or not made atall.
This was what I said--What you will do, you must do, I think. You arevery ready to promise; very ready to depart from your promise. You say,however, that you will set out to-morrow for the country. You know howill I have been. I am not well enough now to debate with you upon yourencroaching ways. I am utterly dissatisfied with the tale you have toldbelow. Nor will I promise to appear to the people of the house to-morrowwhat I am not.
He withdrew in the most respectful manner, beseeching me only to favourhim with such a meeting in the morning as might not make the widow andher nieces think he had given me reason to be offended with him.
I retired to my own apartment, and Dorcas came to me soon after to takemy commands. I told her, that I required very little attendance, andalways dressed and undressed myself.
She seemed concerned, as if she thought I had repulsed her; and said, itshould be her whole study to oblige me.
I told her, that I was not difficult to be pleased: and should let herknow from time to time what assistance I should expect from her. But forthat night I had no occasion for her further attendance.
She is not only genteel, but is well bred, and well spoken--she must havehad what is generally thought to be the polite part of education: but itis strange, that fathers and mothers should make so light, as theygenerally do,
of that preferable part, in girls, which would improvetheir minds, and give a grace to all the rest.
As soon as she was gone, I inspected the doors, the windows, thewainscot, the dark closet as well as the light one; and finding very goodfastenings to the door, and to all the windows, I again had recourse tomy pen.
***
Mrs. Sinclair is just now gone from me. Dorcas, she told me, hadacquainted her, that I had dismissed her for the night. She came to askme how I liked my apartment, and to wish me good rest. She expressed herconcern, that they could not have my company at supper. Mr. Lovelace,she said, had informed them of my love of retirement. She assured me,that I should not be broken in upon. She highly extolled him, and gaveme a share in the praise as to person. But was sorry, she said, that shewas likely to lose us so soon as Mr. Lovelace talked of.
I answered her with suitable civility; and she withdrew with great tokensof respect. With greater, I think, than should be from distance ofyears, as she was the wife of a gentleman; and as the appearance of everything about her, as well house as dress, carries the marks of such goodcircumstances, as require not abasement.
If, my dear, you will write, against prohibition, be pleased to direct,To Miss Laetitia Beaumont; to be left till called for, at Mr. Wilson's,in Pall Mall.
Mr. Lovelace proposed this direction to me, not knowing of your desirethat your letters should pass by a third hand. As his motive for it was,that my brother might not trace out where we are, I am glad, as well fromthis instance as from others, that he seems to think he has done mischiefenough already.
Do you know how my poor Hannah does?
Mr. Lovelace is so full of his contrivances and expedients, that I thinkit may not be amiss to desire you to look carefully to the seals of myletters, as I shall to those of yours. If I find him base in thisparticular, I shall think him capable of any evil; and will fly him as myworst enemy.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 2
