LETTER XX
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWESUNDAY NIGHT, MAY 7.
When you reflect upon my unhappy situation, which is attended with somany indelicate and even shocking circumstances, some of which my pridewill not let me think of with patience; all aggravated by the contents ofmy cousin's affecting letter; you will not wonder that the vapourishnesswhich has laid hold of my heart should rise to my pen. And yet it wouldbe more kind, more friendly in me, to conceal from you, who take such agenerous interest in my concerns, that worst part of my griefs, whichcommunication and complaint cannot relieve.
But to whom can I unbosom myself but to you: when the man who ought to bemy protector, as he has brought upon me all my distresses, adds to myapprehensions; when I have not even a servant on whose fidelity I canrely, or to whom I can break my griefs as they arise; and when hisbountiful temper and gay heart attach every one to him; and I am but acipher, to give him significance, and myself pain!--These griefs,therefore, do what I can, will sometimes burst into tears; and thesemingling with my ink, will blot my paper. And I know you will not grudgeme the temporary relief.
But I shall go on in the strain I left off with in my last, when Iintended rather to apologize for my melancholy. But let what I haveabove written, once for all, be my apology. My misfortunes have givenyou a call to discharge the noblest offices of the friendship we havevowed to each other, in advice and consolation; and it would be an injuryto it, and to you, to suppose it needed even that call.
[She then tells Miss Howe, that now her clothes are come, Mr. Lovelace is continually teasing her to go abroad with him in a coach, attended by whom she pleases of her own sex, either for the air, or to the public diversions.
She gives the particulars of a conversation that has passed between them on that subject, and his several proposals. But takes notice, that he says not the least word of the solemnity which he so much pressed for before they came to town; and which, as she observes, was necessary to give propriety to his proposals.]
Now, my dear, she says, I cannot bear the life I live. I would be gladat my heart to be out of his reach. If I were, he should soon find thedifference. If I must be humbled, it had better be by those to whom Iowe duty, than by him. My aunt writes in her letter,* that SHE dare notpropose any thing in my favour. You tell me, that upon inquiry, youfind,* that, had I not been unhappily seduced away, a change of measureswas actually resolved upon; and that my mother, particularly, wasdetermined to exert herself for the restoration of the family peace; and,in order to succeed the better, had thoughts of trying to engage my uncleHarlowe in her party.
* See Vol. III. Letter LII.** Ibid. Letter VIII.
Let me build on these foundations. I can but try, my dear. It is myduty to try all probable methods to restore the poor outcast to favour.And who knows but that once indulgent uncle, who has very great weight inthe family, may be induced to interpose in my behalf? I will give up allright and title to my grandfather's devises and bequests, with all myheart and soul, to whom they please, in order to make my proposalpalatable to my brother. And that my surrender may be effectual, I willengage never to marry.
What think you, my dear, of this expedient? Surely, they cannot resolveto renounce me for ever. If they look with impartial eyes upon what hashappened, they will have something to blame themselves for, as well asme.
I presume, that you will be of opinion that this expedient is worthtrying. But here is my difficulty: If I should write, my hard-heartedbrother has so strongly confederated them all against me, that my letterwould be handed about from one to another, till he had hardened every oneto refuse my request; whereas could my uncle be engaged to espouse mycause, as from himself, I should have some hope, as I presume to think hewould soon have my mother and my aunt of his party.
What, therefore, I am thinking of, is this--'Suppose Mr. Hickman, whosegood character has gained him every body's respect, should put himself inmy uncle Harlowe's way? And (as if from your knowledge of the state ofthings between Mr. Lovelace and me) assure him not only of the aboveparticulars, but that I am under no obligations that shall hinder me fromtaking his directions?'
I submit the whole to your consideration, whether to pursue it at all, orin what manner. But if it be pursued, and if my uncle refuses tointerest himself in my favour upon Mr. Hickman's application as from you,(for so, for obvious reasons, it must be put,) I can then have no hope;and my next step, in the mind I am in, shall be to throw myself into theprotection of the ladies of his family.
It were an impiety to adopt the following lines, because it would bethrowing upon the decrees of Providence a fault too much my own. Butoften do I revolve them, for the sake of the general similitude whichthey bear to my unhappy, yet undersigned error.
To you, great gods! I make my last appeal: Or clear my virtue, or my crimes reveal. If wand'ring in the maze of life I run, And backward tread the steps I sought to shun, Impute my error to your own decree: My FEET are guilty: but my HEART is free.
[The Lady dates again on Monday, to let Miss Howe know, that Mr. Lovelace, on observing her uneasiness, had introduced to her Mr. Mennell, Mrs. Fretchville's kinsman, who managed all her affairs. She calls him a young officer of sense and politeness, who gave her an account of the house and furniture, to the same effect that Mr. Lovelace had done before;* as also of the melancholy way Mrs. Fretchville is in.
* See Letter IV. of this volume.
She tells Miss Howe how extremely urgent Mr. Lovelace was with the gentleman, to get his spouse (as he now always calls her before company) a sight of the house: and that Mr. Mennell undertook that very afternoon to show her all of it, except the apartment Mrs. Fretchville should be in when she went. But that she chose not to take another step till she knew how she approved of her scheme to have her uncle sounded, and with what success, if tried, it would be attended.
Mr. Lovelace, in his humourous way, gives his friend an account of the Lady's peevishness and dejection, on receiving a letter with her clothes. He regrets that he has lost her confidence; which he attributes to his bringing her into the company of his four companions. Yet he thinks he must excuse them, and censure her for over-niceness; for that he never saw men behave better, at least not them.
Mentioning his introducing Mr. Mennell to her,]
Now, Jack, says he, was it not very kind of Mr. Mennell [Captain MennellI sometimes called him; for among the military there is no such officer,thou knowest, as a lieutenant, or an ensign--was it not very kind in him]to come along with me so readily as he did, to satisfy my beloved aboutthe vapourish lady and the house?
But who is Capt. Mennell? methinks thou askest: I never heard of such aman as Captain Mennell.
Very likely. But knowest thou not young Newcomb, honest Doleman'snewphew?
O-ho! Is it he?
It is. And I have changed his name by virtue of my own single authority.Knowest thou not, that I am a great name-father? Preferment I bestow,both military and civil. I give estates, and take them away at mypleasure. Quality too I create. And by a still more valuableprerogative, I degrade by virtue of my own imperial will, without anyother act of forfeiture than my own convenience. What a poor thing is amonarch to me!
But Mennell, now he has seen this angel of a woman, has qualms; that'sthe devil!--I shall have enough to do to keep him right. But it is theless wonder, that he should stagger, when a few hours' conversation withthe same lady could make four much more hardened varlets find hearts--only, that I am confident, that I shall at least reward her virtue, ifher virtue overcome me, or I should find it impossible to persevere--forat times I have confounded qualms myself. But say not a word of them tothe confraternity: nor laugh at me for them thyself.
In another letter, dated Monday night, he writes as follows:
This perverse lady keeps me at such a distance, that I am sure somethingis going on between her and Miss Howe, notwithstandi
ng the prohibitionfrom Mrs. Howe to both: and as I have thought it some degree of merit inmyself to punish others for their transgressions, I am of opinion thatboth these girls are punishable for their breach of parental injunctions.And as to their letter-carrier, I have been inquiring into his way ofliving; and finding him to be a common poacher, a deer-stealer, andwarren-robber, who, under pretence of haggling, deals with a set ofcustomers who constantly take all he brings, whether fish, fowl, orvenison, I hold myself justified (since Wilson's conveyance must atpresent be sacred) to have him stripped and robbed, and what money he hasabout him given to the poor; since, if I take not money as well asletters, I shall be suspected.
To serve one's self, and punish a villain at the same time, is servingpublic and private. The law was not made for such a man as me. And Imust come at correspondences so disobediently carried on.
But, on second thoughts, if I could find out that the dear creaturecarried any of her letters in her pockets, I can get her to a play or toa concert, and she may have the misfortune to lose her pockets.
But how shall I find this out; since her Dorcas knows no more of herdressing and undressing than her Lovelace? For she is dressed for theday before she appears even to her servant. Vilely suspicious! Upon mysoul, Jack, a suspicious temper is a punishable temper. If a womansuspects a rogue in an honest man, is it not enough to make the honestman who knows it a rogue?
But, as to her pockets, I think my mind hankers after them, as the lessmischievous attempt. But they cannot hold all the letters I should wishto see. And yet a woman's pockets are half as deep as she is high. Tiedround the sweet levities, I presume, as ballast-bags, lest the wind, asthey move with full sail, from whale-ribbed canvass, should blow away thegypsies.
[He then, in apprehension that something is meditating between the two ladies, or that something may be set on foot to get Miss Harlowe out of his hands, relates several of his contrivances, and boasts of his instructions given in writing to Dorcas, and to his servant Will. Summers; and says, that he has provided against every possible accident, even to bring her back if she should escape, or in case she should go abroad, and then refuse to return; and hopes so to manage, as that, should he make an attempt, whether he succeeded in it or not, he may have a pretence to detain her.]
He then proceeds as follows:
I have ordered Dorcas to cultivate by all means her lady's favour; tolament her incapacity as to writing and reading; to shew letters to herlady, as from pretended country relations; to beg her advice how toanswer them, and to get them answered; and to be always aiming atscrawling with a pen, lest inky fingers should give suspicion. I havemoreover given the wench an ivory-leafed pocket-book, with a silverpencil, that she may make memoranda on occasion.
And, let me tell thee, that the lady has already (at Mrs. Sinclair'smotion) removed her clothes out of the trunks they came in, into an amplemahogany repository, where they will lie at full length, and which hasdrawers in it for linen. A repository, that used to hold the richestsuits which some of the nymphs put on, when they are to be dressed out,to captivate, or to ape quality. For many a countess, thou knowest, hasour mother equipped; nay, two or three duchesses, who live upon quality-terms with their lords. But this to such as will come up to her price,and can make an appearance like quality themselves on the occasion: forthe reputation of persons of birth must not lie at the mercy of everyunder-degreed sinner.
A master-key, which will open every lock in this chest, is put intoDorcas's hands; and she is to take care, when she searches for papers,before she removes any thing, to observe how it lies, that she mayreplace all to a hair. Sally and Polly can occasionally help totranscribe. Slow and sure with such an Argus-eyed charmer must be allmy movements.
It is impossible that one so young and so inexperienced as she is canhave all her caution from herself; the behaviour of the women sounexceptionable; no revellings, no company ever admitted into this inner-house; all genteel, quiet, and easy in it; the nymphs well-bred, andwell-read; her first disgusts to the old one got over.--It must be MissHowe, therefore, [who once was in danger of being taken in by one of ourclass, by honest Sir George Colmar, as thou hast heard,] that makes myprogress difficult.
Thou seest, Belford, by the above precautionaries, that I forget nothing.As the song says, it is not to be imagined
On what slight strings Depend these things On which men build their glory!
So far, so good. I shall never rest till I have discovered in the firstplace, where the dear creature puts her letters; and in the next till Ihave got her to a play, to a concert, or to take an airing with me out oftown for a day or two.
***
I gave thee just now some of my contrivances. Dorcas, who is everattentive to all her lady's motions, has given me some instances of hermistress's precautions. She wafers her letters, it seems, in two places;pricks the wafers; and then seals upon them. No doubt but the same careis taken with regard to those brought to her, for she always examines theseals of the latter before she opens them.
I must, I must come at them. This difficulty augments my curiosity.Strange, so much as she writes, and at all hours, that not one sleepy orforgetful moment has offered in our favour!
A fair contention, thou seest: nor plead thou in her favour her youth,her beauty, her family, her fortune, CREDULITY, she has none; and withregard to her TENDER YEARS, Am I not a young fellow myself? As toBEAUTY; pr'ythee, Jack, do thou, to spare my modesty, make a comparisonbetween my Clarissa for a woman, and thy Lovelace for a man. For herFAMILY; that was not known to its country a century ago: and I hate themall but her. Have I not cause?--For her FORTUNE; fortune, thou knowest,was ever a stimulus with me; and this for reasons not ignoble. Do notgirls of fortune adorn themselves on purpose to engage our attention?Seek they not to draw us into their snares? Depend they not, generally,upon their fortunes, in the views they have upon us, more than on theirmerits? Shall we deprive them of the benefit of their principaldependence?--Can I, in particular, marry every girl who wishes to obtainmy notice? If, therefore, in support of the libertine principles forwhich none of the sweet rogues hate us, a woman of fortune is brought toyield homage to her emperor, and any consequences attend the subjugation,is not such a one shielded by her fortune, as well from insult andcontempt, as from indigence--all, then, that admits of debate between mybeloved and me is only this--which of the two has more wit, morecircumspection--and that remains to be tried.
A sad life, however, this life of doubt and suspense, for the poor ladyto live, as well as for me; that is to say, if she be not naturallyjealous--if she be, her uneasiness is constitutional, and she cannot helpit; nor will it, in that case, hurt her. For a suspicious temper willmake occasion for doubt, if none were to offer to its hand. My fair onetherefore, if naturally suspicious, is obliged to me for saving her thetrouble of studying for these occasions--but, after all, the plainestpaths in our journeys through life are the safest and best I believe,although it is not given me to choose them; I am not, however, singularin the pursuit of the more intricate paths; since there are thousands,and ten thousands, who had rather fish in troubled waters than in smooth.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 22
