Chapter 1

***

I will acquaint you with what passed at the general leave given me to be
your guest. And yet I know that you will not love my brother the better
for my communication. But I am angry with him myself, and cannot help
it. And besides, it is proper to let you know the terms I go upon, and
their motives for permitting me to go.

Clary, said my mother, as soon as I entered the great parlour, your
request to go to Miss Howe's for a few days has been taken into
consideration, and granted--

Much against my liking, I assure you, said my brother, rudely
interrupting her.

Son James! said my father, and knit his brows.

He was not daunted. His arm was in a sling. He often has the mean art
to look upon that, when any thing is hinted that may be supposed to lead
toward the least favour to or reconciliation with Mr. Lovelace.--Let the
girl then [I am often the girl with him] be prohibited seeing that vile
libertine.

Nobody spoke.

Do you hear, sister Clary? taking their silence for approbation of what
he had dictated; you are not to receive visits from Lord M.'s nephew.

Every one still remained silent.

Do you so understand the license you have, Miss? interrogated he.

I would be glad, Sir, said I, to understand that you are my
brother;--and that you would understand that you are only my brother.

O the fond, fond heart! with a sneer of insult, lifting up his hands.

Sir, said I, to my father, to your justice I appeal: If I have deserved
reflection, let me be not spared. But if I am to be answerable for the
rashness--

No more!--No more of either side, said my father. You are not to receive
the visits of that Lovelace, though.--Nor are you, son James, to reflect
upon your sister. She is a worthy child.

Sir, I have done, replied he:--and yet I have her honour at heart, as
much as the honour of the rest of the family.

And hence, Sir, retorted I, your unbrotherly reflections upon me?

Well, but you observe, Miss, said he, that it is not I, but your father,
that tells you, that you are not to receive the visits of that Lovelace.

Cousin Harlowe, said my aunt Hervey, allow me to say, that my cousin
Clary's prudence may be confided in.

I am convinced it may, joined my mother.

But, aunt, but, madam (put in my sister) there is no hurt, I presume, in
letting my sister know the condition she goes to Miss Howe upon; since,
if he gets a nack of visiting her there--

You may be sure, interrupted my uncle Harlowe, he will endeavour to see
her there.

So would such an impudent man here, said my uncle Antony: and 'tis
better done there than here.

Better no where, said my father.--I command you (turning to me) on pain
of displeasure, that you see him not at all.

I will not, Sir, in any way of encouragement, I do assure you: not at
all, if I can properly avoid it.

You know with what indifference, said my mother, she has hitherto seen
him.--Her prudence may be trusted to, as my sister Hervey says.

With what appa--rent indifference, drawled my brother.

Son James! said my father sternly.

I have done, Sir, said he. But again, in a provoking manner, he reminded
me of the prohibition.

Thus ended the conference.

Will you engage, my dear, that the hated man shall not come near your
house?--But what an inconsistence is this, when they consent to my
going, thinking his visits here no otherwise to be avoided!--But if he
does come, I charge you never to leave us alone together.

As I have no reason to doubt a welcome from your good mother, I will put
every thing in order here, and be with you in two or three days.

Mean time, I am Your most affectionate and obliged, CLARISSA HARLOWE.

LETTER VII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE [AFTER HER RETURN FROM HER.]
HARLOWE-PLACE, FEB. 20.

I beg your excuse for not writing sooner. Alas! my dear, I have sad
prospects before me! My brother and sister have succeeded in all their
views. They have found out another lover for me; an hideous one!--Yet
he is encouraged by every body. No wonder that I was ordered home so
suddenly. At an hour's warning!--No other notice, you know, than what
was brought with the chariot that was to carry me back.--It was for
fear, as I have been informed [an unworthy fear!] that I should have
entered into any concert with Mr. Lovelace had I known their motive for
commanding me home; apprehending, 'tis evident, that I should dislike
the man they had to propose to me.

And well might they apprehend so:--For who do you think he is?--No
other than that Solmes--Could you have believed it?--And they are all
determined too; my mother with the rest!--Dear, dear excellence! how
could she be thus brought over, when I am assured, that on his first
being proposed she was pleased to say, That had Mr. Solmes the Indies
in possession, and would endow me with them, she should not think him
deserving of her Clarissa!

The reception I met with at my return, so different from what I used to
meet with on every little absence [and now I had been from them three
weeks], convinced me that I was to suffer for the happiness I had had
in your company and conversation for that most agreeable period. I will
give you an account of it.

My brother met me at the door, and gave me his hand when I stepped out
of the chariot. He bowed very low: pray, Miss, favour me.--I thought it
in good humour; but found it afterwards mock respect: and so he led
me in great form, I prattling all the way, inquiring of every body's
health, (although I was so soon to see them, and there was hardly time
for answers,) into the great parlour; where were my father, mother, my
two uncles, and sister.

I was struck all of a heap as soon as I entered, to see a solemnity
which I had been so little used to on the like occasions in the
countenance of every dear relation. They all kept their seats. I ran
to my father, and kneeled: then to my mother: and met from both a cold
salute: From my father a blessing but half pronounced: My mother indeed
called me child; but embraced me not with her usual indulgent ardour.

After I had paid my duty to my uncles, and my compliments to my sister,
which she received with solemn and stiff form, I was bid to sit down.
But my heart was full: and I said it became me to stand, if I could
stand, upon a reception so awful and unusual. I was forced to turn my
face from them, and pull out my handkerchief.

My unbrotherly accuser hereupon stood forth, and charged me with having
received no less than five or six visits at Miss Howe's from the
man they had all so much reason to hate [that was the expression];
notwithstanding the commands I had had to the contrary. And he bid me
deny it if I could.

I had never been used, I said, to deny the truth, nor would I now. I
owned I had in the three weeks passed seen the person I presumed he
meant oftener than five or six times [Pray hear me, brother, said I; for
he was going to flame out], but he always asked for Mrs. or Miss Howe,
when he came.

I proceeded, that I had reason to believe, that both Mrs. Howe and Miss,
as matters stood, would much rather have excused his visits; but they
had more than once apologized, that having not the same reason my papa
had to forbid him their house, his rank and fortune entitled him to
civility.

You see, my dear, I made not the pleas I might have made.

My brother seemed ready to give a loose to his passion: My father put
on the countenance which always portends a gathering storm: My uncles
mutteringly whispered: And my sister aggravatingly held up her hands.
While I begged to be heard out:--And my mother said, let the child, that
was her kind word, be heard.

I hoped, I said, there was no harm done: that it became not me to
prescribe to Mrs. or Miss Howe who should be their visitors: that Mrs.
Howe was always diverted with the raillery that passed between Miss and
him: that I had no reason to challenge her guest for my visitor, as I
should seem to have done had I refused to go into their company when he
was with them: that I had never seen him out of the presence of one or
both of those ladies; and had signified to him once, on his urging a
few moments' private conversation with me, that, unless a reconciliation
were effected between my family and his, he must not expect that I would
countenance his visits, much less give him an opportunity of that sort.

I told him further, that Miss Howe so well understood my mind, that she
never left me a moment while Mr. Lovelace was there: that when he came,
if I was not below in the parlour, I would not suffer myself to be
called to him: although I thought it would be an affectation which would
give him an advantage rather than the contrary, if I had left company
when he came in; or refused to enter into it when I found he would stay
any time.

My brother heard me out with such a kind of impatience as shewed he was
resolved to be dissatisfied with me, say what I would. The rest, as the
event has proved, behaved as if they would have been satisfied, had
they not further points to carry by intimidating me. All this made it
evident, as I mentioned above, that they themselves expected not my
voluntary compliance; and was a tacit confession of the disagreeableness
of the person they had to propose.

I was no sooner silent than my brother swore, although in my father's
presence, (swore, unchecked either by eye or countenance,) That for his
part, he would never be reconciled to that libertine: and that he would
renounce me for a sister, if I encouraged the addresses of a man so
obnoxious to them all.

A man who had like to have been my brother's murderer, my sister said,
with a face even bursting with restraint of passion.

The poor Bella has, you know, a plump high-fed face, if I may be allowed
the expression. You, I know, will forgive me for this liberty of speech
sooner than I can forgive myself: Yet how can one be such a reptile as
not to turn when trampled upon!

My father, with vehemence both of action and voice [my father has, you
know, a terrible voice when he is angry] told me that I had met with too
much indulgence in being allowed to refuse this gentleman, and the other
gentleman,; and it was now his turn to be obeyed!

Very true, my mother said:--and hoped his will would not now be disputed
by a child so favoured.

To shew they were all of a sentiment, my uncle Harlowe said, he hoped
his beloved niece only wanted to know her father's will, to obey it.

And my uncle Antony, in his rougher manner, added, that surely I would
not give them reason to apprehend, that I thought my grandfather's
favour to me had made me independent of them all.--If I did, he would
tell me, the will could be set aside, and should.

I was astonished, you must needs think.--Whose addresses now, thought I,
is this treatment preparative to?--Mr. Wyerley's again?--or whose? And
then, as high comparisons, where self is concerned, sooner than low,
come into young people's heads; be it for whom it will, this is wooing
as the English did for the heiress of Scotland in the time of Edward
the Sixth. But that it could be for Solmes, how should it enter into my
head?

I did not know, I said, that I had given occasion for this harshness.
I hoped I should always have a just sense of every one's favour to me,
superadded to the duty I owed as a daughter and a niece: but that I was
so much surprised at a reception so unusual and unexpected, that I hoped
my papa and mamma would give me leave to retire, in order to recollect
myself.

No one gainsaying, I made my silent compliments, and withdrew;--leaving
my brother and sister, as I thought, pleased; and as if they wanted to
congratulate each other on having occasioned so severe a beginning to be
made with me.

I went up to my chamber, and there with my faithful Hannah deplored the
determined face which the new proposal it was plain they had to make me
wore.

I had not recovered myself when I was sent for down to tea. I begged
my maid to be excused attending; but on the repeated command, went down
with as much cheerfulness as I could assume; and had a new fault to
clear myself of: for my brother, so pregnant a thing is determined
ill-will, by intimations equally rude and intelligible, charged my
desire of being excused coming down, to sullens, because a certain
person had been spoken against, upon whom, as he supposed, my fancy ran.

I could easily answer you, Sir, said I, as such a reflection deserves:
but I forbear. If I do not find a brother in you, you shall have a
sister in me.

Pretty meekness! Bella whisperingly said; looking at my brother, and
lifting up her lip in contempt.

He, with an imperious air, bid me deserve his love, and I should be sure
to have it.

As we sat, my mother, in her admirable manner, expatiated upon brotherly
and sisterly love; indulgently blamed my brother and sister for having
taken up displeasure too lightly against me; and politically, if I may
say so, answered for my obedience to my father's will.--The it would be
all well, my father was pleased to say: Then they should dote upon me,
was my brother's expression: Love me as well as ever, was my sister's:
And my uncles, That I then should be the pride of their hearts.--But,
alas! what a forfeiture of all these must I make!

This was the reception I had on my return from you.

Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony presented
him to me, as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My uncle
Harlowe in terms equally favourable for him. My father said, Mr. Solmes
is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe. My mother looked at him, and looked at
me, now-and-then, as he sat near me, I thought with concern.--I at her,
with eyes appealing for pity. At him, when I could glance at him, with
disgust little short of affrightment. While my brother and sister Mr.
Solmes'd him, and Sirr'd--yet such a wretch!--But I will at present only
add, My humble thanks and duty to your honoured mother (to whom I will
particularly write, to express the grateful sense I have of her goodness
to me); and that I am

Your ever obliged, CL. HARLOWE.

LETTER VIII

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FEB. 24.

They drive on here at a furious rate. The man lives here, I think.
He courts them, and is more and more a favourite. Such terms, such
settlements! That's the cry.

O my dear, that I had not reason to deplore the family fault, immensely
rich as they all are! But this I may the more unreservedly say to you,
as we have often joined in the same concern: I, for a father and uncles;
you, for a mother; in every other respect, faultless.

Hitherto, I seem to be delivered over to my brother, who pretends as
great a love to me as ever.

You may believe I have been very sincere with him. But he affects
to rally me, and not to believe it possible, that one so dutiful and
discreet as his sister Clary can resolve to disoblige all her friends.

Indeed, I tremble at the prospect before me; for it is evident that they
are strangely determined.

My father and mother industriously avoid giving me opportunity of
speaking to them alone. They ask not for my approbation, intended, as it
should seem, to suppose me into their will. And with them I shall hope
to prevail, or with nobody. They have not the interest in compelling me,
as my brother and sister have: I say less therefore to them, reserving
my whole force for an audience of my father, if he will permit me a
patient ear. How difficult is it, my dear, to give a negative where both
duty and inclination join to make one wish to oblige!

I have already stood the shock of three of this man's particular visits,
besides my share in his more general ones; and find it is impossible
I should ever endure him. He has but a very ordinary share of
understanding; is very illiterate; knows nothing but the value of
estates, and how to improve them, and what belongs to land-jobbing and
husbandry. Yet I am as one stupid, I think. They have begun so cruelly
with me, that I have not spirit enough to assert my own negative.

They had endeavoured it seems to influence my good Mrs. Norton before I
came home--so intent are they to carry their point! And her opinion
not being to their liking, she has been told that she would do well to
decline visiting here for the present: yet she is the person of all the
world, next to my mother, the most likely to prevail upon me, were the
measures they are engaged in reasonable measures, or such as she could
think so.

My aunt likewise having said that she did not think her niece could ever
be brought to like Mr. Solmes, has been obliged to learn another lesson.

I am to have a visit from her to-morrow. And, since I have refused so
much as to hear from my brother and sister what the noble settlements
are to be, she is to acquaint me with the particulars; and to receive
from me my determination: for my father, I am told, will not have
patience but to suppose that I shall stand in opposition to his will.

Mean time it has been signified to me, that it will be acceptable if I
do not think of going to church next Sunday.

The same signification was made for me last Sunday; and I obeyed. They
are apprehensive that Mr. Lovelace will be there with design to come
home with me.

Help me, dear Miss Howe, to a little of your charming spirit: I never
more wanted it.

The man, this Solmes, you may suppose, has no reason to boast of his
progress with me. He has not the sense to say any thing to the purpose.
His courtship indeed is to them; and my brother pretends to court me
as his proxy, truly!--I utterly, to my brother, reject his address; but
thinking a person, so well received and recommended by all my family,
entitled to good manners, all I say against him is affectedly attributed
to coyness: and he, not being sensible of his own imperfections,
believes that my avoiding him when I can, and the reserves I express,
are owing to nothing else: for, as I said, all his courtship is to
them; and I have no opportunity of saying no, to one who asks me not the
question. And so, with an air of mannish superiority, he seems rather to
pity the bashful girl, than to apprehend that he shall not succeed.

FEBRUARY 25.

I have had the expected conference with my aunt.

I have been obliged to hear the man's proposals from her; and have been
told also what their motives are for espousing his interest with so much
warmth. I am even loth to mention how equally unjust it is for him to
make such offers, or for those I am bound to reverence to accept of
them. I hate him more than before. One great estate is already obtained
at the expense of the relations to it, though distant relations; my
brother's, I mean, by his godmother: and this has given the hope,
however chimerical that hope, of procuring others; and that my own at
least may revert to the family. And yet, in my opinion, the world is
but one great family. Originally it was so. What then is this narrow
selfishness that reigns in us, but relationship remembered against
relationship forgot?

But here, upon my absolute refusal of him upon any terms, have I had
a signification made me that wounds me to the heart. How can I tell it
you? Yet I must. It is, my dear, that I must not for a month to come, or
till license obtained, correspond with any body out of the house.

My brother, upon my aunt's report, (made, however, as I am informed,
in the gentlest manner, and even giving remote hopes, which she had no
commission from me to give,) brought me, in authoritative terms, the
prohibition.

Not to Miss Howe? said I.

No, not to Miss Howe, Madam, tauntingly: for have you not acknowledged,
that Lovelace is a favourite there?

See, my dear Miss Howe--!

And do you think, Brother, this is the way--

Do you look to that.--But your letters will be stopt, I can tell
you.--And away he flung.

My sister came to me soon after--Sister Clary, you are going on in a
fine way, I understand. But as there are people who are supposed to
harden you against your duty, I am to tell you, that it will be taken
well if you avoid visits or visitings for a week or two till further
order.

Can this be from those who have authority--

Ask them; ask them, child, with a twirl of her finger.--I have delivered
my message. Your father will be obeyed. He is willing to hope you to be
all obedience, and would prevent all incitements to refractoriness.

I know my duty, said I; and hope I shall not find impossible condition
annexed to it.

A pert young creature, vain and conceited, she called me. I was the only
judge, in my own wise opinion, of what was right and fit. She, for her
part, had long seen into my specious ways: and now I should shew every
body what I was at bottom.

Dear Bella! said I, hands and eyes lifted up--why all this?--Dear, dear
Bella, why--

None of your dear, dear Bella's to me.--I tell you, I see through your
witchcrafts [that was her strange word]. And away she flung; adding, as
she went, and so will every body else very quickly, I dare say.

Bless me, said I to myself, what a sister have I!--How have I deserved
this?

Then I again regretted my grandfather's too distinguishing goodness to
me.

FEB. 25, IN THE EVENING.

What my brother and sister have said against me I cannot tell:--but I am
in heavy disgrace with my father.

I was sent for down to tea. I went with a very cheerful aspect: but had
occasion soon to change it.

Such a solemnity in every body's countenance!--My mother's eyes were
fixed upon the tea-cups; and when she looked up, it was heavily, as if
her eye-lids had weights upon them; and then not to me. My father sat
half-aside in his elbow-chair, that his head might be turned from me:
his hands clasped, and waving, as it were, up and down; his fingers,
poor dear gentleman! in motion, as if angry to the very ends of them. My
sister was swelling. My brother looked at me with scorn, having measured
me, as I may say, with his eyes as I entered, from head to foot. My aunt
was there, and looked upon me as if with kindness restrained, bending
coldly to my compliment to her as she sat; and then cast an eye first on
my brother, then on my sister, as if to give the reason [so I am willing
to construe it] of her unusual stiffness.--Bless me, my dear! that they
should choose to intimidate rather than invite a mind, till now, not
thought either unpersuadable or ungenerous!

I took my seat. Shall I make tea, Madam, to my mother?--I always used,
you know, my dear, to make tea.

No! a very short sentence, in one very short word, was the expressive
answer. And she was pleased to take the canister in her own hand.

My brother bid the footman, who attended, leave the room--I, he said,
will pour out the water.

My heart was up in my mouth. I did not know what to do with myself. What
is to follow? thought I.

Just after the second dish, out stept my mother--A word with you, sister
Hervey! taking her in her hand. Presently my sister dropt away. Then my
brother. So I was left alone with my father.

He looked so very sternly, that my heart failed me as twice or thrice
I would have addressed myself to him: nothing but solemn silence on all
hands having passed before.

At last, I asked, if it were his pleasure that I should pour him out
another dish?

He answered me with the same angry monosyllable, which I had received
from my mother before; and then arose, and walked about the room. I
arose too, with intent to throw myself at his feet; but was too much
overawed by his sternness, even to make such an expression of my duty to
him as my heart overflowed with.

At last, as he supported himself, because of his gout, on the back of a
chair, I took a little more courage; and approaching him, besought him
to acquaint me in what I had offended him?

He turned from me, and in a strong voice, Clarissa Harlowe, said he,
know that I will be obeyed.

God forbid, Sir, that you should not!--I have never yet opposed your
will--

Nor I your whimsies, Clarissa Harlowe, interrupted he.--Don't let me
run the fate of all who shew indulgence to your sex; to be the more
contradicted for mine to you.

My father, you know, my dear, has not (any more than my brother) a kind
opinion of our sex; although there is not a more condescending wife in
the world than my mother.

I was going to make protestations of duty--No protestations, girl! No
words! I will not be prated to! I will be obeyed! I have no child, I
will have no child, but an obedient one.

Sir, you never had reason, I hope--

Tell me not what I never had, but what I have, and what I shall have.

Good Sir, be pleased to hear me--My brother and sister, I fear--

Your brother and sister shall not be spoken against, girl!--They have a
just concern for the honour of my family.

And I hope, Sir--

Hope nothing.--Tell me not of hopes, but of facts. I ask nothing of you
but what is in your power to comply with, and what it is your duty to
comply with.

Then, Sir, I will comply with it--But yet I hope from your goodness--

No expostulations! No but's, girl! No qualifyings! I will be obeyed, I
tell you; and cheerfully too!--or you are no child of mine!

I wept.

Let me beseech you, my dear and ever-honoured Papa, (and I dropt down
on my knees,) that I may have only yours and my mamma's will, and not my
brother's, to obey.

I was going on; but he was pleased to withdraw, leaving me on the floor;
saying, That he would not hear me thus by subtilty and cunning aiming to
distinguish away my duty: repeating, that he would be obeyed.

My heart is too full;--so full, that it may endanger my duty, were I
to try to unburden it to you on this occasion: so I will lay down my
pen.--But can--Yet positively, I will lay down my pen--!

LETTER IX

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FEB. 26, IN THE MORNING.

My aunt, who staid here last night, made me a visit this morning as
soon as it was light. She tells me, that I was left alone with my
father yesterday on purpose that he might talk with me on my expected
obedience; but that he owned he was put beside his purpose by reflecting
on something my brother had told him in my disfavour, and by his
impatience but to suppose, that such a gentle spirit as mine had
hitherto seemed to be, should presume to dispute his will in a point
where the advantage of the whole family was to be so greatly promoted by
my compliance.

I find, by a few words which dropt unawares from my aunt, that they have
all an absolute dependence upon what they suppose to be meekness in my
temper. But in this they may be mistaken; for I verily think, upon a
strict examination of myself, that I have almost as much in me of my
father's as of my mother's family.

My uncle Harlowe it seems is against driving me upon extremities: But
my brother has engaged, that the regard I have for my reputation, and
my principles, will bring me round to my duty; that's the expression.
Perhaps I shall have reason to wish I had not known this.

My aunt advises me to submit for the present to the interdicts they
have laid me under; and indeed to encourage Mr. Solmes's address. I have
absolutely refused the latter, let what will (as I have told her) be the
consequence. The visiting prohibition I will conform to. But as to that
of not corresponding with you, nothing but the menace that our letters
shall be intercepted, can engage my observation of it.

She believes that this order is from my father, and that my mother
has not been consulted upon it. She says, that it is given, as she has
reason think, purely in consideration to me, lest I should mortally
offend him; and this from the incitements of other people (meaning you
and Miss Lloyd, I make no doubt) rather than by my own will. For still,
as she tells me, he speaks kind and praiseful things of me.

Here is clemency! Here is indulgence!--And so it is, to prevent a
headstrong child, as a good prince would wish to deter disaffected
subjects, from running into rebellion, and so forfeiting every thing!
But this is allowing to the young-man's wisdom of my brother; a plotter
without a head, and a brother without a heart!

How happy might I have been with any other brother in the world but
James Harlowe; and with any other sister but his sister! Wonder not, my
dear, that I, who used to chide you for these sort of liberties with my
relations, now am more undutiful than you ever was unkind. I cannot bear
the thought of being deprived of the principal pleasure of my life; for
such is your conversation by person and by letter. And who, besides, can
bear to be made the dupe of such low cunning, operating with such high
and arrogant passions?

But can you, my dear Miss Howe, condescend to carry on a private
correspondence with me?--If you can, there is one way I have thought of,
by which it may be done.

You must remember the Green Lane, as we call it, that runs by the side
of the wood-house and poultry-yard where I keep my bantams, pheasants,
and pea-hens, which generally engage my notice twice a day; the more
my favourites because they were my grandfather's, and recommended to my
care by him; and therefore brought hither from my Dairy-house since his
death.

The lane is lower than the floor of the wood-house; and, in the side of
the wood-house, the boards are rotted away down to the floor for half an
ell together in several places. Hannah can step into the lane, and make
a mark with chalk where a letter or parcel may be pushed in, under some
sticks; which may be so managed as to be an unsuspected cover for the
written deposits from either.