Chapter 3

The Second, That, by containing their Views _within the Bounds_ of
Nature and Reason, they may be sweetly, but insensibly, drawn to
preserve a proper Dignity of Behaviour, whereby to awe the Presumption
of the Bold and Forward: So that, while we behold them as Angels of
Light, they would be pleased not to give too convincing Evidence of
their _Fall_ from that to a lower Character; a detestable one too, which
will in a short time sink them as much in the Esteem of their flattering
Admirers, as those very Deceivers had before persuaded them, that they
were elevated above the common Lot of Mortality.

The Choice the Author has made, in this and a former Performance, of
delivering the Sentiments of his Characters in their own Words, by way
of Letters, has also Two principal Advantages, which we beg leave to
specify. / /

[13]

In the First place, By this means every one is enabled to judge at first
Sight, whether the respective Persons represented express themselves in
a Style suitable to their Characters, or not, and may thus become a
rational Critic on the Merit of the Piece.

Secondly, Those Characters sink deeper into the Mind of the Reader, and
stamp there a perfect Idea of the very Turn of Thought, by which the
Originals were actuated, and diversified from each other. This must
greatly add to the Pleasure of reading, when a Gentleman or Lady can
readily say, upon hearing a single Paragraph, "This is the accomplished
=Clarissa=; This the spirited and friendly Miss =Howe=; This the
supercilious Pedant =Brand=; This the humane and reclaiming =Belford=; This
the daring, learned, witty, and thence dangerous Libertine =Lovelace=:"
And so of the rest.

We need not insist on the evident Superiority of this Method to the dry
Narrative; where the _Novelist_ moves on, his own dull Pace, to the End
of his Chapter and Book, interweaving impertinent Digressions, for fear
the Reader's Patience should be exhausted by his tedious Dwelling on one
Subject, in the same Style: Which may not unfitly be compared to the
dead Tolling of a single Bell, in Opposition to the wonderful Variety of
Sounds, which constitute the Harmony of a Handel.

As the major Part of such Works as these might be _omitted_, to the
greater Emolument of the Reader, if not of the Writer; so we have the
Pleasure to acquaint the Public, that the contrary is true of the Work
before us: For the Author has in this Edition _restored_ several
Passages, which, for Brevity, were omitted in the former. Such are the
Instructions in Vol. III. p. ... given by Mr. Lovelace to his Four
Friends on their first Visit to his _Goddess_, as he justly calls her,
comparing her with the wretches he had so long been accustomed to: Which
instructions are highly humorous and characteristical, and by being laid
open may suggest proper Cautions to all who are likely to be engaged in
justly suspected Company. Several other Inlargements and Alterations
there are, which tend further to illustrate his Design, and to make it
more generally useful. And as these will be presented to the Public
without any additional Price, it is hoped they will come recommended on
that score also, as well as for their evident Importance, when
attentively perused; which it is presumed the whole Work should be, as
containing Documents of Religion and Morality, which will probably lie
hid to a careless or superficial Examiner: And this we speak of those
Parts principally, which have least _Entertainment_, in the vulgar sense
of the word.

An Objection remains to be answered; which is so minute, that it is
therefore condemned to this last and lowest Place. / /

[14]

"Clarissa is too delicate."--The Author readily acknowleges [sic], that
too delicate she is for the Hearts of such as, by Conformity to the
loose Manners of the present Age, have confounded Purity with Prudery.
But, for all this, it may be hoped, that the latter will rather
endeavour to raise their Affections to =Clarissa's= virtuous Standard,
than by striving to impeach her Character, effectually debase, if not
violently tear up, the decisive Standard of Right and Wrong.

The just Detestation that injured Lady had of Lovelace's vile Attempt to
corrupt her Mind as well as Person, was surely a sufficient Argument
against uniting her untainted Purity (surely we may say so, since the
Violation reached not her Soul) in Marriage with so gross a Violator;
and must for ever continue in Force, till the eternal Differences of
Vice and Virtue shall coalesce, and make one putrid Mass, a Chaos in the
Moral and Intellectual World.

We have a remarkable, and in some Degree a parallel Case in Scripture;
where we find, that the Rape of _Dinah_ was revenged, cruelly revenged,
by the Sons of Jacob. _Dinah_, like =Clarissa=, had Proposals of Marriage
made to her by the Ravisher. But these were not thought sufficient to
expunge the Stain upon a Person of that Family, from which was to
proceed the =Son= of Him whose eyes are purer than to behold Iniquity.
Therefore a Massacre was made of the King Hamor, and his son Shechem;
and their People were led into Captivity. The Answer of Simeon and Levi
to their Father's Complaint of Cruelty was only this: _Should he deal
with_ =our Sister=, _as with an_ =Harlot=?

The only Use we intend to make of this Passage is, to shew that it is no
new thing, that a Violation of this sort should be desperately resented,
as this was by the resolute =Morden=; however _new_ it may be, that a
young Lady should disdain the Villain, who had betrayed her Person, and
soon after laid her Hopes, and the Hopes of all her flourishing Family,
in the Dust of the Grave.

POSTSCRIPT.

_Referred to in the Preface._

IN WHICH

Several Objections that have been made, as well to the Catastrophe
as to different Parts of the preceding History, are briefly
considered.

The foregoing Work having been published at three different periods of
time, the Author, in the course of its publication, was favoured with
many anonymous Letters, in which the Writers differently expressed their
wishes with regard to the apprehended catastrophe.

Most of those directed to him by the gentler Sex, turned in favour of
what they called a _Fortunate Ending_. Some of the fair writers,
enamoured, as they declared, with the character of the Heroine, were
warmly solicitous to have her made happy:"And others, likewise of their
mind, _insisted that Poetical Justice_ required that it should be so.
And when, says one ingenious Lady, whose undoubted motive was
good-nature and humanity, it must be concluded, that it is in an
author's power to make his piece end as he pleases, why should he not
give pleasure rather than pain to the Reader whom he has interested in
favour of his principal characters?

"Others, and some Gentlemen, declared against Tragedies in general, and
in favour of Comedies, almost in the words of Lovelace, who was
supported in his taste by all the women at Mrs. Sinclair's, and by
Sinclair herself. 'I have too much _Feeling_, said he[36]. There is
enough in the world to make our hearts sad, without carrying grief into
our diversions, and making the distresses of others our own.'

"And how was this happy ending to be brought about? Why by this very
easy and trite expedient; to wit, by reforming Lovelace, and marrying
him to Clarissa--Not, however, abating her one of her tryals, nor any of
her sufferings [for the sake of the _sport_ her distresses would give to
the _tender-hearted_ reader as she went along] the last outrage
excepted: That indeed, partly in compliment to Lovelace himself, and
partly for delicacy-sake, they were willing to spare her.

"But whatever were the fate of his work, the Author was resolved to take
a different method. He always thought, that _sudden Conversions_, such
especially, as were left to the candour of the Reader to _suppose_ and
_make out_, had neither _Art_, nor _Nature_, nor even _Probability_, in
them; and that they were moreover of very _bad_ example. To have a
Lovelace for a series of years glory in his wickedness, and think that
he had nothing to do, but as an act of grace and favour to hold out his
hand to receive that of the best of women, whenever he pleased, and to
have it thought, that Marriage would be a sufficient amends for all his
enormities to others, as well as to her; he could not bear that. Nor is
Reformation, as he has shewn in another piece, to be secured by a fine
face; by a passion that has sense for its object; nor by the goodness of
a Wife's heart, or even example, if the heart of the Husband be not
graciously touched by the Divine Finger.

"It will be seen by this time, that the Author had a great end in view.
He has lived to see Scepticism and Infidelity openly avowed, and even
endeavoured to be propagated from the _Press_: The great doctrines of
the Gospel brought into question: Those of self-denial and
mortification blotted out of the catalogue of christian virtues: And a
taste even to wantonness for out-door pleasure and luxury, to the
general exclusion of domestic as well as public virtue, industriously
promoted among all ranks and degrees of people.

"In this general depravity, when even the Pulpit has lost great part of
its weight, and the Clergy are considered as a body of _interested_ men,
the Author thought he should be able to answer it to his own heart, be
the success what it would, if he threw in his mite towards introducing a
Reformation so much wanted: And he imagined, that if in an age given up
to diversion and entertainment, he could _steal in_, as may be said, and
investigate the great doctrines of Christianity under the fashionable
guise of an amusement; he should be most likely to serve his purpose;
remembring that of the Poet:

"_A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
"And turn delight into a sacrifice._

"He was resolved therefore to attempt something that never yet had been
done. He considered, that the Tragic poets have as seldom made their
heroes true objects of pity, as the Comic theirs laudable ones of
imitation: And still more rarely have made them in their deaths look
forward to a _future Hope_. And thus, when they die, they seem totally
to perish. Death, in such instances, must appear terrible. It must be
considered as the greatest evil. But why is Death set in shocking
lights, when it is the universal lot?

"He has indeed thought fit to paint the death of the wicked as terrible
as he could paint it. But he has endeavoured to draw that of the good in
such an amiable manner, that the very Balaams of the world should not
forbear to wish that their latter end might be like that of the Heroine.

"And after all, what is the _poetical justice_ so much contended for by
some, as the generality of writers have managed it," but another sort of
dispensation than that with which God, by Revelation, teaches us, He has
thought fit to exercise mankind; whom placing here only in a state of
probation, he hath so intermingled good and evil, as to necessitate us
to look forward for a more equal dispensation of both.

The author of the History (or rather Dramatic Narrative) of Clarissa, is
therefore well justified by the _Christian System_, in deferring to
extricate suffering Virtue to the time in which it will meet with the
_Completion_ of its Reward.

But not absolutely to shelter the conduct observed in it under the
sanction of Religion [an authority perhaps not of the greatest weight
with some of our modern critics] it must be observed, that the author is
justified in its Catastrophe by the greatest master of reason, and the
best judge of composition, that ever lived. The learned Reader knows we
must mean ARISTOTLE; whose sentiments in this matter we shall beg leave
to deliver in the words of a very amiable writer of our own Country.

'The English writers of Tragedy, _says Mr. Addison_[37], are possessed
with a notion, that when they represent a virtuous or innocent person in
distress, they ought not to leave him till they have delivered him out
of his troubles, or made him triumph over his enemies.

'This _error_ they have been led into by a _ridiculous_ doctrine in
_Modern Criticism_, that they are obliged to an _equal distribution_ of
_rewards_ and _punishments_, and an impartial execution of _poetical
justice_.

'Who were the first that established this rule, I know not; but I am
sure it has no foundation in NATURE, in REASON, or in the PRACTICE OF
THE ANTIENTS.

'We find, that good and evil happen alike unto ALL MEN on this side the
grave: And as the principal design of Tragedy is to raise commiseration
and terror in the minds of the audience, we shall defeat this great end,
if we always make Virtue and Innocence happy and successful.

'Whatever crosses and disappointments a good man suffers in the _Body_
of the Tragedy, they will make but small impression on our minds, when
we know, that, in the _last Act_, he is to arrive at the end of his
wishes and desires.

'When we see him engaged in the depth of his afflictions, we are apt to
comfort ourselves, because we are sure he will find his way out of them,
and that his grief, how great soever it may be at present, will soon
terminate in gladness.

'For this reason, the antient Writers of Tragedy treated men in their
_Plays_, as they are dealt with in the _World_, by making Virtue
sometimes happy and sometimes miserable, as they found it in the Fable
which they made choice of, or as it might affect their Audience in the
most agreeable manner.

'Aristotle considers the Tragedies that were written in either of those
kinds; and observes, that those which ended unhappily had always pleased
the people, and carried away the Prize, in the public disputes of the
Stage, from those that ended happily.

'Terror and Commiseration leave a _pleasing anguish_ in the mind, and
fix the Audience in such a serious composure of thought, as is much more
lasting and delightful, than any little transient Starts of Joy and
Satisfaction.

'Accordingly we find, that more of our English Tragedies have succeeded,
in which the Favourites of the Audience sink under their calamities,
than those in which they recover themselves out of them.

'The best Plays of this kind are _The Orphan_, _Venice Preserved_,
_Alexander the Great_, _Theodosius_, _All for Love_, _Oedipus_,
_Oroonoko_, _Othello_, &c.

'King _Lear_ is an admirable Tragedy of the same kind, as Shakespeare
wrote it: But as it is reformed according to the _chimerical notion_ of
POETICAL JUSTICE, in my humble opinion it has lost half its beauty.

'At the same time I must allow, that there are very noble Tragedies,
which have been framed upon the other Plan, and have ended happily; as
indeed most of the good Tragedies which have been written since the
starting of the above-mentioned Criticism, have taken this turn: As _The
Mourning Bride_, _Tamerlane_[38], _Ulysses_, _Phaedra and Hippolytus_,
with most of Mr. Dryden's. I must also allow, that many of
Shakespeare's, and several of the celebrated Tragedies of Antiquity, are
cast in the same form. I do not therefore dispute against this way of
writing Tragedies; but against the Criticism that would establish This
as the _only_ method; and by that means would very much cramp the
English Tragedy, and perhaps give a wrong bent to the genius of our
writers.'

'This subject is further considered in a Letter to the Spectator[39].

"I find your opinion, says the author of it, concerning the
_late-invented_ term called _Poetical Justice_, is controverted by some
eminent critics. I have drawn up some additional arguments to strengthen
the opinion which you have there delivered; having endeavoured to go to
the bottom of that matter....

"The most perfect man has vices enough to draw down punishments upon his
head, and to justify Providence in regard to any miseries that may befal
him. For this reason I cannot think but that the instruction and moral
are much finer, where a man who is virtuous in the main of his character
falls into distress, and sinks under the blows of fortune, at the end of
a Tragedy, than when he is represented as happy and triumphant. Such an
example corrects the insolence of human nature, softens the mind of the
beholder with sentiments of pity and compassion, comforts him under his
own private affliction, and teaches him not to judge of mens virtues by
their successes[40]. I cannot think of one real hero in all antiquity so
far raised above human infirmities, that he might not be very naturally
represented in a Tragedy as plunged in misfortunes and calamities. The
Poet may still find out some prevailing passion or indiscretion in his
character, and shew it in such a manner as will sufficiently acquit
Providence of any injustice in his sufferings: For, as Horace observes,
the best man is faulty, tho' not in so great a degree as those whom we
generally call vicious men[41].

"If such a strict _Poetical Justice_ (_proceeds the Letter-writer_), as
some gentlemen insist upon, were to be observed in this art, there is no
manner of reason why it should not extend to heroic Poetry, as well as
Tragedy. But we find it so little observed in Homer, that his Achilles
is placed in the greatest point of glory and success, tho' his Character
is morally vicious, and only _poetically_ good, if I may use the phrase
of our modern Critics. The _AEneid_ is filled with innocent unhappy
persons. Nisus and Euryalus, Lausus and Pallas, come all to unfortunate
ends. The Poet takes notice in particular, that, in the sacking of Troy,
Ripheus fell, who was the most just man among the Trojans:

"----_Cadit & Ripheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris, & servantissimus aequi.
Diis aliter visum est.----_

"The gods thought fit.--So blameless Ripheus fell,
Who lov'd fair Justice, and observ'd it well.

"And that Pantheus could neither be preserved by his transcendent piety,
nor by the holy fillets of Apollo, whose priest he was:

"----_Nec te tua plurima, Pantheu,
Labentem pietas, nec Apollinis infula texit._ AEn. II.

"Nor could thy piety thee, Pantheus, save,
Nor ev'n thy priesthood, from an early grave.

"I might here mention the practice of antient Tragic Poets, both Greek
and Latin; but as this particular is touched upon in the Paper
above-mentioned, I shall pass it over in silence. I could produce
passages out of Aristotle in favour of my opinion: And if in one place
he says, that an absolutely virtuous man should not be represented as
unhappy, this does not justify any one who shall think fit to bring in
an absolutely virtuous man upon the stage. Those who are acquainted with
that author's way of writing, know very well, that to take the whole
extent of his subject into his divisions of it, he often makes use of
such cases as are imaginary, and not reducible to practice....

"I shall conclude, _says this gentleman_, with observing, that tho' the
_Spectator_ above-mentioned is so far against the rule of _Poetical
Justice_, as to affirm, that good men may meet with an unhappy
Catastrophe in Tragedy, it does not say, that ill men may go off
unpunished. The reason for this distinction is very plain; namely,
because the best of men [as is said above] have faults enough to justify
Providence for any misfortunes and afflictions which may befal them; but
there are many men so criminal, that they can have no claim or pretence
to happiness. The _best_ of men may deserve punishment; but the _worst_
of men cannot deserve happiness."

Mr. Addison, as we have seen above, tells us, that Aristotle, in
considering the Tragedies that were written in either of the kinds,
observes, that those which ended unhappily had always pleased the
people, and carried away the prize, in the public disputes of the Stage,
from those that ended happily. And we shall take leave to add, that this
preference was given at a time when the entertainments of the Stage were
committed to the care of the magistrates; when the prizes contended for
were given by the State; when, of consequence, the emulation among
writers was ardent; and when learning was at the highest pitch of glory
in that renowned commonwealth.

It cannot be supposed, that the Athenians, in this their highest age of
taste and politeness, were less humane, less tender-hearted, than we of
the present. But they were not _afraid_ of being moved, nor _ashamed_ of
shewing themselves to be so, at the distresses they saw well painted and
represented. In short, they were of the opinion, with the wisest of men,
_That it was better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of
mirth_; and had fortitude enough to trust themselves with their own
generous grief, because they found their hearts mended by it.

Thus also Horace, and the politest Romans in the Augustan age, wished to
be affected:

_Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipse recusem,
Cum recte tractant alii, laudare maligne;
Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur
Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
Irritat, mulcet; falsis terroribus implet,
Ut magus; & modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis_.

Thus Englished by Mr. Pope:

Yet, lest you think I railly more than teach,
Or praise malignly _Arts_ I cannot reach,
Let me, for once, presume t'instruct the times
To know the _Poet_ from the _Man of Rhymes_.
'Tis He who gives my breast a thousand pains,
Can make me _feel_ each passion that he feigns;
Enrage--compose--with more than magic art,
With _pity_ and with _terror_ tear my heart;
And snatch me o'er the earth, or thro' the air,
To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.

Our fair readers are also desired to attend to what a celebrated
Critic[42] of a neighbouring nation says on the nature and design of
Tragedy, from the rules laid down by the same great Antient.

'Tragedy, says he, makes man _modest_, by representing the great masters
of the earth humbled; and it makes him _tender_ and _merciful_, by
shewing him the _strange accidents of life_, and the _unforeseen
disgraces_ to which the most important persons are subject.

'But because Man is naturally timorous and compassionate, he may fall
into other extremes. Too much fear may shake his constancy of mind, and
too much compassion may enfeeble his equity. 'Tis the business of
Tragedy to regulate these two weaknesses. It prepares and arms him
against _disgraces_, by shewing them so frequent in the most
considerable persons; and he will cease to fear extraordinary accidents,
when he sees them happen to the _highest_ part of Mankind. And still
more efficacious, we may add, the example will be, when he sees them
happen to the _best_.

'But as the end of Tragedy is to teach men not to fear too weakly
_common misfortunes_, it proposes also to teach them to spare their
compassion for objects that _deserve it_. For there is an _injustice_ in
being moved at the afflictions of those who _deserve to be miserable_.
We may see, without pity, Clytemnestra slain by her son Orestes in
AEschylus, because she had murdered Agamemnon her husband; yet we cannot
see Hippolytus die by the plot of his Stepmother Phaedra, in Euripides,
without compassion, because he died not, but for being chaste and
virtuous.'

'These are the great authorities so favourable to the stories that end
unhappily. And we beg leave to reinforce this inference from them, That
if the temporary sufferings of the Virtuous and the Good can be
accounted for and justified on Pagan principles, many more and
infinitely stronger reasons will occur to a Christian Reader in behalf
of what are called unhappy Catastrophes from the consideration of the
doctrine of _future rewards_; which is every-where strongly inforced in
the History of Clarissa.

'Of this (to give but one instance) an ingenious Modern, distinguished
by his rank, but much more for his excellent defence of some of the most
important doctrines of Christianity, appears convinced in the conclusion
of a pathetic _Monody_, lately published; in which, after he had
deplored, as a man _without hope_, (expressing ourselves in the
Scripture phrase) the loss of an excellent Wife; he thus consoles
himself:

'_Yet, O my soul! thy rising murmurs stay,
Nor dare th' All-wise Disposer to arraign,
Or against his supreme decree
With impious grief complain.
That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade,
Was his most righteous Will: And be that Will obey'd._

'_Would thy fond love his grace to her controul,
And in these low abodes of sin and pain
Her pure, exalted soul,
Unjustly, for thy partial good, detain?
No--rather strive thy groveling mind to raise
Up to that unclouded blaze,
That heav'nly radiance of eternal light,
In which enthroned she now with pity sees
How frail, how insecure, how slight
Is ev'ry mortal bliss._

'But of infinitely greater weight than all that has been above produced
on this subject, are the words of the Psalmist.

"As for me, says he[43], my feet were almost gone, my step had well-nigh
slipt: For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of
the wicked. For their strength is firm: They are not in trouble as other
men; neither are they plagued like other men--Their eyes stand out with
fatness: They have more than their heart could wish--Verily I have
cleansed mine heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocence; for all
the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning. When I
thought to know this, it was too painful for me. Until I went into the
sanctuary of God; then understood I their end--Thou shalt guide me with
thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.'

'This is the Psalmist's comfort and dependence. And shall man, presuming
to alter the common course of nature, and, so far as he is able, to
elude the tenure by which frail mortality indispensibly holds, imagine,
that he can make a better dispensation; and by calling it _Poetical
Justice_, indirectly reflect on the _Divine_?

The more pains have been taken to obviate the objections arising from
the notion of _Poetical Justice_, as the doctrine built upon it had
obtained general credit among us; and as it must be confessed to have
the appearance of _humanity_ and _good-nature_ for its supports. And yet
the writer of the History of Clarissa is humbly of opinion, that he
might have been excused referring to them for the vindication of _his_
Catastrophe, even by those who are advocates for the contrary opinion;
since the notion of _Poetical Justice_, founded on the _modern rules_,
has hardly ever been more strictly observed in works of this nature,
than in the present performance.

For, Is not Mr. Lovelace, who could persevere in his villainous views,
against the strongest and most frequent convictions and remorses that
ever were sent to awaken and reclaim a wicked man--Is not this great,
this _wilful_ transgressor, condignly _punished_; and his punishment
brought on thro' the intelligence of the very Joseph Leman whom he had
corrupted[44]; and by means of the very women whom he had
debauched[45]--Is not Mr. Belton, who has an Uncle's _hastened_ death to
answer for[46]--Are not the _whole_ Harlowe-family--Is not the vile
Tomlinson--Are not the infamous Sinclair, and her _wretched
partners_--And even the wicked _Servants_, who, with their eyes open,
contributed their parts to the carrying on of the vile schemes of their
respective principals--_Are they not All likewise exemplarily punished?_

On the other hand, Is not Miss HOWE, for her noble friendship to the
exalted Lady in her calamities--Is not Mr. HICKMAN, for his
unexceptionable morals, and integrity of life--Is not the repentant and
not ungenerous BELFORD--Is not the worthy NORTON--_made signally happy_?

And who that are in earnest in their profession of Christianity, but
will rather envy than regret the triumphant death of CLARISSA; whose
piety, from her _early childhood_; whose diffusive charity; whose steady
virtue; whose Christian humility; whose forgiving spirit; whose
meekness, and resignation, HEAVEN _only_ could reward[47]?

"We shall now, according to expectation given in the _Preface_ to this
Edition, proceed to take brief notice of such other objections as have
come to our knowlege: For as is there said, 'This Work being addressed
to the Public as an History of _Life_ and _Manners_, those parts of it
which are proposed to carry with them the force of Example, ought to be
as unobjectible as is consistent with the _design of the whole_, and
with _human Nature_.'

"Several persons have censured the Heroine as too cold in her love, too
haughty, and even sometimes provoking. But we may presume to say, that
this objection has arisen from want of attention to the Story, to the
Character of Clarissa, and to her particular situation.

"It was not intended that she should be _in Love_, but _in Liking_ only,
if that expression may be admitted. It is meant to be every-where
inculcated in the Story, for _Example-sake_, that she never would have
married Mr. Lovelace, because of his immoralities, had she been left to
herself; and that her ruin was principally owing to the persecutions of
her friends.

"What is too generally called _Love_, ought (perhaps _as_ generally) to
be called by another name. _Cupidity_, or a _Paphian Stimulus_, as some
women, even of condition, have acted, are not words too harsh to be
substituted on the occasion, however grating they may be to delicate
ears.