LETTER XLVI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWESUNDAY MORNING, SEVEN O'CLOCK.
I was at the play last night with Mr. Lovelace and Miss Horton. It is,you know, a deep and most affecting tragedy in the reading. You have myremarks upon it, in the little book you made me write upon the principalacting-plays. You will not wonder, that Miss Horton, as well as I, wasgreatly moved at the representation, when I tell you, and have somepleasure in telling you, that Mr. Lovelace himself was very sensiblytouched with some of the most affecting scenes. I mention this in praiseof the author's performance; for I take Mr. Lovelace to be one of themost hard-hearted men in the world. Upon my word, my dear, I do.
His behaviour, however, on this occasion, and on our return, wasunexceptionable; only that he would oblige me to stay to supper with thewomen below, when we came back, and to sit up with him and them till nearone o'clock this morning. I was resolved to be even with him; and indeedI am not very sorry to have the pretence; for I love to pass the Sundaysby myself.
To have the better excuse to avoid his teasing, I am ready dressed to goto church this morning. I will go only to St. James's church, and in achair; that I may be sure I can go out and come in when I please, withoutbeing intruded upon by him, as I was twice before.
***
NEAR NINE O'CLOCK.
I have your kind letter of yesterday. He knows I have. And I shallexpect, that he will be inquisitive next time I see him after youropinions of his proposals. I doubted not your approbation of them, andhad written an answer on that presumption; which is ready for him. Hemust study for occasions of procrastination, and to disoblige me, if nowany thing happens to set us at variance again.
He is very importunate to see me. He has desired to attend me to church.He is angry that I have declined to breakfast with him. I am sure that Ishould not have been at my own liberty if I had. I bid Dorcas tell him,that I desired to have this day to myself. I would see him in themorning as early as he pleased. She says, she knows not what ails him,but that he is out of humour with every body.
He has sent again in a peremptory manner. He warns me of Singleton. Isent him word, that if he was not afraid of Singleton at the playhouselast night, I need not at church to-day: so many churches to oneplayhouse. I have accepted of his servant's proposed attendance. But heis quite displeased, it seems. I don't care. I will not be perpetuallyat his insolent beck.--Adieu my dear, till I return. The chair waits.He won't stop me, sure, as I go down to it.
***
I did not see him as I went down. He is, it seems, excessively out ofhumour. Dorcas says, not with me neither, she believes: but somethinghas vexed him. This is perhaps to make me dine with him. But I willnot, if I can help it. I shan't get rid of him for the rest of the day,if I do.
***
He was very earnest to dine with me. But I was resolved to carry thisone small point; and so denied to dine myself. And indeed I wasendeavouring to write to my cousin Morden; and had begun three differenttimes, without being able to please myself.
He was very busy in writing, Dorcas says; and pursued it without dining,because I denied him my company.
He afterwards demanded, as I may say, to be admitted to afternoon-tea withme: and appealed by Dorcas to his behaviour to me last night; as if Isent him word by her, he thought he had a merit in being unexceptionable.However, I repeated my promise to meet him as early as he pleased in themorning, or to breakfast with him.
Dorcas says, he raved: I heard him loud, and I heard his servant fly fromhim, as I thought. You, my dearest friend, say, in one of yours,* thatyou must have somebody to be angry at, when your mother sets you up. Ishould be very loth to draw comparisons; but the workings of passion,when indulged, are but too much alike, whether in man or woman.
* See Letter X. of this volume, Parag. 2.
***
He has just sent me word, that he insists upon supping with me. As wehad been in a good train for several days past, I thought it not prudentto break with him for little matters. Yet, to be, in a manner,threatened into his will, I know not how to bear that.
While I was considering, he came up, and, tapping at my door, told me, ina very angry tone, he must see me this night. He could not rest, till hehad been told what he had done to deserve the treatment I gave him.
Treatment I gave him! a wretch! Yet perhaps he has nothing new to say tome. I shall be very angry with him.
***
[As the Lady could not know what Mr. Lovelace's designs were, nor the cause of his ill humour, it will not be improper to pursue the subject from his letter.
Having described his angry manner of demanding, in person, her company at supper, he proceeds as follows:]
''Tis hard, answered the fair perverse, that I am to be so little my ownmistress. I will meet you in the dining-room half an hour hence.
'I went down to wait the half hour. All the women set me hard to giveher cause for this tyranny. They demonstrated, as well from the natureof the sex, as of the case, that I had nothing to hope for from mytameness, and could meet with no worse treatment, were I to be guilty ofthe last offence. They urge me vehemently to try at least what effectsome greater familiarities than I had ever taken with her would have: andtheir arguments being strengthened by my just resentments on thediscoveries I had made, I was resolved to take some liberties, as theywere received, to take still greater, and lay all the fault upon hertyranny. In this humour I went up, and never had paralytic so littlecommand of his joints, as I had, while I walked about the dining-room,attending her motions.
'With an erect mien she entered, her face averted, her lovely bosomswelling, and the more charmingly protuberant for the erectness of hermien. O Jack! that sullenness and reserve should add to the charms ofthis haughty maid! but in every attitude, in every humour, in everygesture, is beauty beautiful. By her averted face, and indignant aspect,I saw the dear insolent was disposed to be angry--but by the fiercenessof mine, as my trembling hand seized hers, I soon made fear herpredominant passion. And yet the moment I beheld her, my heart wasdastardized; and my reverence for the virgin purity, so visible in herwhole deportment, again took place. Surely, Belford, this is an angel.And yet, had she not been known to be a female, they would not frombabyhood have dressed her as such, nor would she, but upon thatconviction, have continued the dress.
'Let me ask you, Madam, I beseech you tell me, what I have done todeserve this distant treatment?
'And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, why are my retirements to be thusinvaded?--What can you have to say to me since last night, that I wentwith you so much against my will to the play? and after sitting up withyou, equally against my will, till a very late hour?
'This I have to say, Madam, that I cannot bear to be kept at thisdistance from you under the same roof.
'Under the same roof, Sir!--How came you----
'Hear me out, Madam--[letting go her trembling hands, and snatching themback again with an eagerness that made her start]--I have a thousandthings to say, to talk of, relating to our present and future prospects;but when I want to open my whole soul to you, you are always contrivingto keep me at a distance. You make me inconsistent with myself. Yourheart is set upon delays. You must have views that you will not own.Tell me, Madam, I conjure you to tell me, this moment, without subterfugeor reserve, in what light am I to appear to you in future? I cannot bearthis distance. The suspense you hold me in I cannot bear.
'In what light, Mr. Lovelace! [visibly terrified.] In no bad light, Ihope.--Pray, Mr. Lovelace, do not grasp my hands so hard [endeavouring towithdraw them.] Pray let me go.--
'You hate me, Madam--
'I hate nobody, Sir--
'You hate me, Madam, repeated I.
'Instigated and resolved, as I came up, I wanted some new provocation.The devil indeed, as soon as my angel made her appearance, crept out ofmy heart; but he had left the door open, and was no farther off than myelbow.
'You come up in n
o good temper, I see, Mr. Lovelace.--But pray be notviolent--I have done you no hurt.--Pray be not violent--
'Sweet creature! and I clasped one arm about her, holding one hand in myother.--You have done me no hurt.--I could have devoured her--butrestraining myself--You have done me the greatest hurt!--In what have Ideserved the distance you keep me at?--I knew not what to say.
'She struggled to disengage herself.--Pray, Mr. Lovelace, let mewithdraw. I know not why this is. I know not what I have done to offendyou. I see you are come with a design to quarrel with me. If you wouldnot terrify me by the ill humour you are in, permit me to withdraw. Iwill hear all you have to say another time--to-morrow morning, as I sentyou word.--But indeed you frighten me--I beseech you, if you have anyvalue for me, permit me to withdraw.
'Night, mid-night, is necessary, Belford. Surprise, terror, must benecessary to the ultimate trial of this charming creature, say the womenbelow what they will. I could not hold my purposes. This was not thefirst time that I had intended to try if she could forgive.
'I kissed her hand with a fervour, as if I would have left my lips uponit.--Withdraw, then, dearest, and ever-dear creature. Indeed I enteredin a very ill humour. I cannot bear the distance at which you socauselessly keep me. Withdraw, Madam, since it is your will to withdraw;and judge me generously; judge me but as I deserve to be judged; and letme hope to meet you to-morrow morning early in such a temper as becomesour present situation, and my future hopes.
'And so saying, I conducted her to the door, and left her there. But,instead of going down to the women, I went into my own chamber, andlocked myself in; ashamed of being awed by her majestic loveliness, andapprehensive virtue, into so great a change of purpose, notwithstanding Ihad such just provocations from the letters of her saucy friend, formedon her own representations of facts and situations between herself andme.
***
[The Lady (dated Sunday night) thus describes her terrors, and Mr. Lovelace's behaviour, on the occasion.]
On my entering the dining-room, he took my hand in his, in such a humour,I saw plainly he was resolved to quarrel with me--And for what?--What hadI done to him?--I never in my life beheld in any body such wild, suchangry, such impatient airs. I was terrified; and instead of being asangry as I intended to be, I was forced to be all mildness. I can hardlyremember what were his first words, I was so frighted. But you hate me,Madam! you hate me, Madam! were some of them--with such a fierceness--Iwished myself a thousand miles distant from him. I hate nobody, said I:I thank God I hate nobody--You terrify me, Mr. Lovelace--let me leaveyou.--The man, my dear, looked quite ugly--I never saw a man look so uglyas passion made him look--and for what?--And so he grasped my hands!--fierce creature;--he so grasped my hands! In short, he seemed by hislooks, and by his words (once putting his arms about me) to wish me toprovoke him. So that I had nothing to do but to beg of him (which I didrepeatedly) to permit me to withdraw: and to promise to meet him at hisown time in the morning.
It was with a very ill grace that he complied, on that condition; and atparting he kissed my hand with such a savageness, that a redness remainsupon it still.
Do you not think, my dear, that I have reason to be incensed at him, mysituation considered? Am I not under a necessity, as it were, ofquarrelling with him; at least every other time I see him? No prudery,no coquetry, no tyranny in my heart, or in my behaviour to him, that Iknow of. No affected procrastination. Aiming at nothing but decorum.He as much concerned, and so he ought to think, as I, to have thatobserved. Too much in his power: cast upon him by the cruelty of myrelations. No other protection to fly to but his. One plain path beforeus; yet such embarrasses, such difficulties, such subjects for doubt, forcavil, for uneasiness; as fast as one is obviated, another to beintroduced, and not by myself--know not how introduced--What pleasure canI propose to myself in meeting such a wretch?
Perfect for me, my dearest Miss Howe, perfect for me, I beseech you, yourkind scheme with Mrs. Townsend; and I will then leave this man.
My temper, I believe, is changed. No wonder if it be. I questionwhether ever it will be what it was. But I cannot make him half souneasy by the change, as I am myself. See you not how, from step tostep, he grows upon me?--I tremble to look back upon his encroachments.And now to give me cause to apprehend more evil from him, thanindignation will permit me to express!--O my dear, perfect your scheme,and let me fly from so strange a wretch!
Yet, to be first an eloper from my friends to him, as the world supposes;and now to be so from him [to whom I know not!] how hard to one who everendeavoured to shun intricate paths! But he must certainly have views inquarrelling with me thus, which he dare not own!--Yet what can they be?--I am terrified but to think of what they may be!
Let me but get from him!--As to my reputation, if I leave him--that isalready too much wounded for me, now, to be careful about any thing, buthow to act so as that my own heart shall not reproach me. As to theworld's censure, I must be content to suffer that--an unhappycomposition, however.--What a wreck have my fortunes suffered, to beobliged to throw overboard so many valuables, to preserve, indeed, theonly valuable!--A composition that once it would have half broken myheart to think there would have been the least danger that I should beobliged to submit to.
You, my dear, could not be a stranger to my most secret failings,although you would not tell me of them. What a pride did I take in theapplause of every one!--What a pride even in supposing I had not thatpride!--Which concealed itself from my unexamining heart under thespecious veil of humility, doubling the merit to myself by the supposed,and indeed imputed, gracefulness in the manner of conferring benefits,when I had not a single merit in what I did, vastly overpaid by thepleasure of doing some little good, and impelled, as I may say, bytalents given me--for what!--Not to be proud of.
So, desirous, in short, to be considered as an example! A vanity whichmy partial admirers put into my head!--And so secure in my own virtue!
I am punished enough, enough mortified, for this my vanity--I hope,enough, if it so please the all-gracious inflictor: since now, I verilythink, I more despise myself for my presumptuous self-security, as wellas vanity, than ever I secretly vaunted myself on my good inclinations:secretly, I say, however; for, indeed, I had not given myself leisure toreflect, till I was thus mortified, how very imperfect I was; nor howmuch truth there is in what divines tell us, that we sin in our bestperformances.
But I was very young.--But here let me watch over myself again: for inthose four words, I was very young, is there not a palliation couched,that were enough to take all efficacy from the discovery and confession?
What strange imperfect beings!--but self here, which is at the bottom ofall we do, and of all we wish, is the grand misleader.
I will not apologize to you, my dear, for these grave reflections. Is itnot enough to make the unhappy creature look into herself, and endeavourto detect herself, who, from such a high reputation, left to proud andpresumptuous self, should by one thoughtless step, be brought to thedreadful situation I am in?
Let me, however, look forward: to despond would be to add sin to sin.And whom have I to raise me up, whom to comfort me, if I desert myself?--Thou, O Father, who, I hope, hast not yet deserted, hast not yet cursedme!--For I am thine!--It is fit that mediation should supply the rest.--
***
I was so disgusted with him, as well as frighted by him, that on myreturn to my chamber, in a fit of passionate despair, I tore almost intwo the answer I had written to his proposals.
I will see him in the morning, because I promised I would. But I will goout, and that without him, or any attendant. If he account not tolerablyfor his sudden change of behaviour, and a proper opportunity offer of aprivate lodging in some creditable house, I will not any more return tothis:--at present I think so.--And there will I either attend theperfecting of your scheme; or, by your epistolary mediation, make my ownterms with the wretch; since it is your opinion, that I must be his, andcannot help mysel
f: or, perhaps, take a resolution to throw myself atonce into Lady Betty's protection; and this will hinder him from makinghis insolently-threatened visit to Harlowe-place.
[The Lady writes again on Monday evening; and gives her friend an account of all that passed between herself and Mr. Lovelace that day; and of her being terrified out of her purpose, of going out: but Mr. Lovelace's next letters giving a more ample account of all, hers are omitted.
It is proper, however, to mention, that she re-urges Miss Howe (from the dissatisfaction she has reason for from what passed between Mr. Lovelace and herself) to perfect her scheme in relation to Mrs. Townsend. She concludes this letter in these words:]
I should say something of your last favour (but a few hours ago received)and of your dialogue with your mother--Are you not very whimsical, mydear? I have but two things to wish for on this occasion.--The one, thatyour charming pleasantry had a better subject than that you find for itin this dialogue--the other, that my situation were not such, as must toooften damp that pleasantry in you, and will not permit me to enjoy it, asI used to do. Be, however, happy in yourself, though you cannot in
YourCLARISSA HARLOWE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 48
