Clarissa, Or, the History of a Young Lady

by Samuel Richardson

  ‘Tis true I should have consulted you first, and had your leave. But since 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 to heaven that were to be tomorrow! For God’s sake, let it be tomorrow!

  What could I say? What could I do? I verily think that had he urged me again, in a proper manner, I should have consented (little satisfied as I am with him) to give him a meeting tomorrow morning at a more solemn place than in the parlour below.

  But this I resolve, that he shall not have my consent to stay a night under this roof. He has now given me a stronger reason for this determination than I had before.

  • • •

  Alas! my dear, how vain a thing to say what we will or what we will not do, when we have put ourselves into the power of this sex! He went down to the people below, on my desiring to be left to myself; and stayed till their supper was just ready; and then, desiring a moment’s audience, as he called it, he besought my leave to stay that one night, promising to set out either for Lord M.’s, or for Edgware to his friend Belford’s, in the morning after breakfast. But if I were against it, he said, he would not stay supper; and would attend me about eight next day—yet he added, that my denial would have a very particular appearance to the people below, from what he had told them; and the more as he had actually agreed for all the vacant apartments (indeed only for a month), for the reason he had before hinted at. But I need not stay here two days if, upon conversing with the widow and her nieces in the morning, I should have any dislike to them.

  I thought, notwithstanding my resolution above-mentioned, that it would seem too punctilious to deny him; under the circumstances he had mentioned—having, besides, no reason to think he would obey me; for he looked as if he were determined to debate the matter with me. And, as now I see no likelihood of a reconciliation with my friends, and had actually received his addresses with less reserve than ever; I thought I would not quarrel with him if I could help it, especially as he asked to stay but for one night, and could have done so without my knowing it; and you being of opinion that the proud wretch, distrusting his own merits with me, or at least my regard 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 was so vexed with him on the other, that it was impossible for me to comply with that grace which a concession should be made with, or not made at all.

  He withdrew in the most respectful manner, beseeching me only to favour him with such a meeting in the morning as might not make the widow and her 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 take my commands. I told her that I required very little attendance, and always dressed and undressed myself.

  She seemed concerned, as if she thought I had repulsed her, and said it should be her whole study to oblige me.

  I told her that I was not difficult to please. And should let her know from time to time what assistances I should expect from her. But for that night I had no occasion for her further attendance.

  She is not only genteel, but is well-bred, and well-spoken. She must have had what is generally thought to be the polite part of education: but it is strange that fathers and mothers should make so light, as they generally do, of that preferable part in girls, which would improve their minds and give a grace to all the rest.

  As soon as she was gone, I inspected the doors, the windows, the wainscot, the dark closet as well as the light one; and finding very good fastenings to the door and to all the windows, I again had recourse to my pen.

  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 desire that our 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 from this instance as from others, that he seems to think he has done mischief enough already.

  Mr Lovelace is so full of his contrivances and expedients that I think it may not be amiss to desire you to look carefully to the seals of my letters, as I shall to those of yours. If I find him base in this particular, I shall think him capable of any evil; and will fly him as my worst enemy.

  Letter 159: MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

  Sunday

  Have been at church, Jack—behaved admirably well too! My charmer is pleased with me now: for I was exceedingly attentive to the discourse, and very ready in the auditor’s part of the service. Eyes did not much wander. How could they? when the loveliest object, infinitely the loveliest, in the whole church, was in my view.

  Dear creature! how fervent, how amiable, in her devotions! I have got her to own that she prayed for me! I hope a prayer from so excellent a mind will not be made in vain.

  There is, after all, something beautifully solemn in devotion! The Sabbath is a charming institution to keep the heart right, when it is right. One day in seven, how reasonable! I think I’ll go to church once a day often. I fancy it will go a great way towards making me a reformed man.

  But let me tell thee what passed between us in my first visit of this morning; and then I will acquaint thee more largely with my good behaviour at church.

  I could not be admitted till after eight. I found her ready prepared to go out. I pretended to be ignorant of her intention, having charged Dorcas not to own that she had told me of it.

  Going abroad, madam?—with an air of indifference.

  Yes, sir; I intend to go to church.

  I hope, madam, I shall have the honour to attend you.

  No: she designed to take a chair, and go to the next church.

  This startled me: a chair to carry her to the next church from Mrs Sinclair’s, her right name not Sinclair, and to bring her back thither, in the face of people who might not think well of the house! There was no permitting that—yet I was to appear indifferent.

  I beg the favour of attending you, dear madam, said I. I have not been at church a great while: we shall sit in different stalls: and the next time I go, I hope it will be to give myself a title to the greatest blessing I can receive.

  She made some further objections: but at last permitted me the honour of attending her.

  Sunday evening

  • • •

  We all dined together in Mrs Sinclair’s parlour! All ex-cessive-ly right! The two nieces have topped their parts: Mrs Sinclair hers. Never so easy yet as now! ‘She really thought a little oddly of these people at first, she said: Mrs Sinclair seemed very forbidding! Her nieces were persons with whom she could not wish to be acquainted. But really we should not be too hasty in our censures. Some people improve upon us. The widow seems tolerable.’ (She went no farther than tolerable.)

  I have been letting her into thy character, and into the characters of my other three esquires, in hopes to excite her curiosity to see you tomorrow night. I have told her some of the worst, as well as best parts of your characters, in order to exalt myself, and to obviate any sudden surprises, as well as to teach her what sort of men she may expect to see, if she will oblige me.

  By her observations upon each of you, I shall judge what I may or may not do to obtain or keep her good opinion: what she will like, what not; and so pursue the one, or avoid the other, as I see proper. So, while she is penetrating into your shallow heads, I shall enter her heart and know what to bid my own hope for.

  All will be over in three weeks, or bad will be my luck! Who knows but in three days! Have I not carried that great point of making her pass for my wife to the people below? And that other great one of fixing myself here night and day? What lady ever escaped me, that lodged under one roof with me? The house too, THE house; the people, people after my own heart: her servants Will and Dorcas both my serv
ants. Three days did I say! Pho! pho! Three hours!

  Letter 163: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Tuesday, May 2

  With infinite regret I am obliged to tell you that I can no longer write to you, or receive letters from you. Your mother has sent me a letter enclosed in a cover to Mr Lovelace, directed for him at Lord M.’s (and which was brought him just now), reproaching me on this subject in very angry terms, and forbidding me, as I would not be thought to intend to make her and you unhappy, to write to you, without her leave.

  This, therefore, is the last you must receive from me, till happier times: and as my prospects are not very bad, I presume we shall soon have leave to write again; and even to see each other: since an alliance with a family so honourable as Mr Lovelace’s is, will not be a disgrace.

  She is pleased to write that if I would wish to inflame you, I should let you know her written prohibition: but otherwise find some way of my own accord (without bringing her into the question) to decline a correspondence, which I must know she has for some time past forbidden. But all I can say is, to beg of you not to be inflamed—to beg of you, not to let her know, or even by your behaviour to her, on this occasion, guess, that I have acquainted you with my reason for declining to write to you. For how else, after the scruples I have heretofore made on this very subject, yet proceeding to correspond, can I honestly satisfy you about my motives for this sudden stop? So my dear, I choose, you see, rather to rely upon your discretion, than to feign reasons you would not be satisfied with, but with your usual active penetration sift to the bottom, and at last find me to be a mean and low qualifier; and that, with an implication injurious to you, that I supposed you had not prudence enough to be trusted with the naked truth.

  I repeat, that my prospects are not bad. The house, I presume, will soon be taken. The widow has a less forbidding appearance than at first. Mr Lovelace, on my declared dislike of his four friends [Belford, Belton, Mowbray, Tourville], has assured me that neither they nor anybody else shall be introduced to me, without my leave.

  These circumstances I mention, as you will suppose, that your kind heart may be at ease about me; that you may be induced by them to acquiesce with your mother’s commands, cheerfully acquiesce, and that for my sake, lest I should be thought an inflamer; who am, with very contrary intentions, my dearest, and best-beloved friend,

  Your ever obliged and affectionate

  CLARISSA HARLOWE

  Letter 164: MISS HOWE TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE

  Wed. May 3

  I am astonished that my mother should take such a step—purely to exercise an unreasonable act of authority; and to oblige the most remorseless hearts in the world. If I find that I can be of use to you either by advice or information, do you think I will not give it? Were it to any other person, less dear to me than you are, do you think, in such a case, I would forbear giving it?

  This I will come into, if it will make you easy: I will forbear to write to you for a few days, if nothing extraordinary happen—and till the rigour of her prohibition is abated. But be assured that I will not dispense with your writing to me. My heart, my conscience, my honour, will not permit it.

  But how will I help myself? How! Easy enough. For I do assure you that I want but very little further provocation to fly privately to London: and if I do, I will not leave you till I see you either honourably married, or absolutely quit of the wretch: and in this last case, I will take you down with me in defiance of the whole world: or, if you refuse to go with me, stay with you, and accompany you as your shadow whithersoever you go.

  If anything happens to delay your nuptials, I would advise you to remove: but if you marry, you may, perhaps, think it no great matter to stay where you are, till you take possession of your own estate. The knot once tied, and with so resolute a man, it is my opinion your relations will soon resign what they cannot legally hold: and were even a litigation to follow, you will not be able, nor ought you to be willing, to help it: for your estate will then be his right; and it will be unjust to wish it to be withheld from him.

  One thing I would advise you to think of; and that is, of proper settlements. It will be to the credit of your prudence, and of his justice (and the more as matters stand), that something of this should be done before you marry. Bad as he is, nobody accounts him a sordid man. And I wonder he has been hitherto silent on that subject.

  I repeat—continue to write to me—I insist upon it; and that as minutely as possible: or, take the consequence. I send this by a particular hand. I am, and ever will be,

  Your most affectionate

  ANNA HOWE

  Letter 165: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Thursday, May 4

  I forgo every other engagement, I suspend every wish, I banish every other fear, to take up my pen to beg of you that you will not think of being guilty of such an act of love as I can never thank you for; but must for ever regret. If I must continue to write to you, I must. I know full well your impatience of control when you have the least imagination that your generosity or friendship is likely to be wounded by it.

  My dearest, dearest creature, would you incur a maternal, as I have a paternal, malediction? Would not the world think there was an infection in my fault, if it were to be followed by Miss Howe? There are some points so flagrantly wrong that they will not bear to be argued upon. This is one of them. I need not give reasons against such a rashness. Heaven forbid that it should be known that you had it but once in your thought, be your motives ever so noble and generous, to follow so bad an example! The rather as that you would, in such a case, want the extenuations that might be pleaded in my favour; and particularly that one of being surprised into the unhappy step.

  The restraint your mamma lays you under would not have appeared heavy but on my account.

  Learn, my dear, I beseech you learn, to subdue your own passions. Be the motives what they will, excess is excess. Those passions in our sex, which we take no pains to subdue, may have one and the same source with those infinitely blacker passions which we used so often to condemn in the violent and headstrong of the other sex; and which may be heightened in them only by custom, and their freer education. Let us both, my dear, ponder well this thought; look into ourselves, and fear.

  If I write, as I find I must, I insist upon your forbearance. Your silence to this shall be the sign to me that you will not think of the rashness you threaten me with; and that you will obey your mamma as to your own part of the correspondence, however: especially as you can inform or advise me in every weighty case, by Mr Hickman’s pen.

  My trembling writing will show you what a trembling heart you, my dear impetuous creature, have given to

  Your ever obliged,

  Or, if you take so rash a step,

  Your forever disobliged,

  CLARISSA HARLOWE

  Letter 167: MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

  Tuesday May 2

  I must never talk of reformation, she told me, having such companions and taking such delight as I seemed to take in their frothy conversation.

  I, no more than you, imagined she could possibly like ye: but then, as my friends, I thought a person of her education would have been more sparing of her censures.

  I defended ye all, as well as I could: but you know there was no attempting ought but a palliative defence, to one of her principles.

  Plainly, she said, she neither liked my companions, nor the house she was in.

  I liked not the house any more than she: though the people were very obliging, and she had owned they were less exceptionable to herself than at first: and were we not about another of our own?

  For her own part, she had seen nothing of the London world: but thought she must tell me plainly, that she never was in such company in her life; nor ever again wished to be in it.

  I thanked her heartily. But I must take the liberty to say that good
folks were generally so uncharitable that, devil take me, if I would choose to be good, were the consequence to be that I must think hardly of the whole world besides.

  She congratulated me upon my charity: but told me that, to enlarge her own, she hoped it would not be expected of her to approve of the low company I had brought her into last night.

  I saw not, I said, begging her pardon, that she liked anybody (Plain dealing for plain dealing! Why then did she abuse my friends? Love me, and love my dogs, as Lord M. would say). However, let me but know whom and what she did or did not like; and, if possible, I would like and dislike the very same persons and things.

  She bid me then, in a pet, dislike myself.

  Cursed severe! Does she think she must not pay for it one day, or one night? And if one, many; that’s my comfort!

  I had like to have been blasted by two or three flashes of lightning from her indignant eyes; and she turned scornfully from me, and retired to her own apartment. She says I am not a polite man. But is she, in the instance before us, more polite for a lady?

  Letter 169: MR BELFORD TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

  Edgware, Tuesday night, May 2

  Without staying for the promised letter from you to inform us what the lady says of us, I write to tell you that we are all of one opinion with regard to her; which is, that there is not of her age a finer lady in the world, as to her understanding. As for her person, she is at the age of bloom, and an admirable creature; a perfect beauty: but this poorer praise a man can hardly descend to give, who has been honoured with her conversation; and yet she was brought amongst us against her will.

  Permit me, dear Lovelace, to be a means of saving this excellent creature from the dangers she hourly runs from the most plotting heart in the world. In a former, I pleaded your own family, Lord M.’s wishes particularly; and then I had not seen her. But now, I join her sake, honour’s sake, motives of justice, generosity, gratitude and humanity, which are all concerned in the preservation of so fine a creature.