Clarissa, Or, the History of a Young Lady

  Who at the long run must submit—all of us to you; or you to all of us?

  I wept. I knew not what to say; or rather how to express what I had to say.

  Take notice that there are flaws in your grandfather’s will; not a shilling of that estate will be yours, if you do not yield. Your grandfather left it to you as a reward of your duty to him and to us. You will justly forfeit it, if—

  Permit me, good madam, to say that, if it were unjustly bequeathed me, I ought not to wish to have it. But I hope Mr Solmes will be apprised of these flaws.

  This was very pertly said, she was pleased to tell me; but bid me reflect, that the forfeiture of that estate, through my opposition, would be attended with the total loss of my papa’s favour; and then how destitute I must be; how unable to support myself; and how many benevolent designs and good actions must I give up!

  I must accommodate myself, I said, in the latter case, to my circumstances.

  What perverseness! said my mamma. But if you depend upon the favour of either or both your uncles, vain will be that dependence. They will give you up, I do assure you, if your papa does, and absolutely renounce you.

  I told her, I was sorry that I had had so little merit as to have made no deeper impressions of favour for me in their hearts; but that I would love and honour them as long as I lived.

  All this, she was pleased to say, made my prepossession in a certain man’s favour the more evident. Indeed my brother and sister could not go anywhither, but they heard of these prepossessions.

  I received her rebukes in silence.

  You are sullen, Clarissa! I see you are sullen! And she walked about the room in anger. Then turning to me. You can bear the imputation, I see! You have no concern to clear yourself of it. I was afraid of telling you all I was enjoined to tell you in case you were to be unpersuadeable. But I find that I had a greater opinion of your delicacy and gentleness than I needed to have. It cannot discompose so steady, so inflexible a young creature, to be told that the [marriage] settlements are actually drawn; and that you will be called down, in a very few days, to hear them read, and to sign them; for it is impossible, if your heart be free, that you can make the least objection to them, except that they are so much in your favour and in all our favour be one.

  I was speechless, absolutely speechless; although my heart was ready to burst, yet could I neither weep nor speak.

  She folded the warm statue, as she was pleased to call me, in her arms; and entreated me, for God’s sake, and for her sake, to comply.

  I would, madam, said I, folding my hands with an earnestness that my whole heart was engaged in, bear the cruellest tortures, bear loss of limb, and even of life, to give you peace. But this man, every moment I would at your command think of him with favour, is the more my aversion. You cannot, indeed you cannot, think, how my whole soul resists him!

  I then, half-frantically I believe, laid hold of her gown. Have patience with me, dearest madam! said I. Do not you renounce me totally!

  Permit me, dearest madam, to say, that your goodness to me, your patience, your peace, weigh more with me, than all the rest put together: for although I am to be treated by my brother and, through his instigations, by my papa, as a slave in this point, and not as a daughter, yet my mind is not that of a slave. You have not brought me up to be mean.

  So, Clary, you are already at defiance with your papa! I have had too much cause before to apprehend as much. What will this come to?

  You may guess what your father’s first question on his return will be. He must know that I can do nothing with you. I have done my part. Seek me, if your mind change before he comes back. You have yet a little more time, as he stays supper: I will no more seek you, nor to you. And away she flung.

  What could I do but weep?

  I had rather all the world should be angry with me, than my mamma!

  Meantime, to clear my hands from papers of such a nature, Hannah shall deposit this. If two or three letters reach you together, they will but express, from one period to another, the anxieties and difficulties which the mind of your unhappy, but ever affectionate friend labours under.

  CL. H.

  Letter 21: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Sat. night

  I have been down. I am to be unlucky in all I do, I think, be my intention ever so good. I have made matters worse instead of better—as I shall now tell you.

  I found my mamma and sister together in my sister’s parlour. My mamma, I fear, by the glow in her fine face (and as the browner, sullener glow in my sister’s confirmed) had been expressing herself with warmth against her unhappier child; perhaps giving such an account of what had passed, as should clear herself and convince Bella, and through her, my brother and uncles, of the sincere pains she had taken with me!

  I entered like a dejected criminal, I believe—and besought the favour of a private audience.

  I came down, I said, to beg of her to forgive me for anything she might have taken amiss in what had passed above respecting herself, and to use her interest to soften my papa’s displeasure when she made the report she was to make to him.

  Such aggravating looks, such lifting-up of hands and eyes, such a furrowed forehead in my sister!

  My mamma was angry enough without all that; and asked me, to what purpose I came down if I were still so untractable?

  She had hardly spoke the words, when Shorey came in to tell her that Mr Solmes was in the hall, and desired admittance.

  Ugly creature! What, at the close of day, quite dark, brought him hither? But, on second thoughts, I believe it was contrived that he should be here at supper, to know the result of the conference between my mamma and me; and that my papa on his return might find us together.

  I was hurrying away; but my mamma commanded me, since I had come down only, as she said, to mock her, not to stir; and at the same time see if I could behave so to him, as might encourage her to make the report to my papa which I had so earnestly besought her to make.

  The man stalked in. His usual walk is by pauses, as if... he was telling [counting] his steps: and first paid his clumsy respects to my mamma, then to my sister; next to me, as if I were already his wife and therefore to be last in his notice; and sitting down by me, told us in general what weather it was. Very cold he made it; but I was warm [i.e., angry] enough. Then addressing himself to me: And how do you find it, miss, was his question; and would have took my hand.

  I withdrew it, I believe with disdain enough: my mamma frowned; my sister bit her lip.

  My sister rose with a face all over scarlet, and stepping to the table where lay a fan, she took it up and, although Mr Solmes had observed that the weather was cold, fanned herself very violently.

  My mamma came to me, and angrily taking my hand led me out of that parlour into my own, which, you know, is next to it. Is not this behaviour very bold, very provoking, think you, Clary?

  I beg your pardon, madam, if it has that appearance to you. But indeed, my dear mamma, there seem to be snares laying for me. Too well I know my brother’s drift. With a good word he shall have my consent for all he wishes to worm me out of. Neither he, nor my sister, shall need to take half this pains.

  My mamma was about to leave me in high displeasure.

  I besought her to stay. One favour, but one favour, dearest madam, said I, give me leave to beg of you—

  What would the girl?

  I see how everything is working about. I never, never can think of Mr Solmes.

  I was ready to sink. She was so good as to lend me her arm to support me.

  But, Clary, this one further opportunity I give you. Go in again to Mr Solmes, and behave discreetly to him; and let your papa find you together, upon civil terms at least.

  What, madam, to give him hope? To give hope to Mr Solmes?

  Obstinate, perverse, undutiful Clarissa Harlowe!


  She flung from me with high indignation: and I went up with a very heavy heart, and feet as slow as my heart was heavy.

  Twelve o’clock

  This moment the keys of everything are taken from me. It was proposed to send for me down; but my papa said he could not bear to look upon me. Strange alteration in a few weeks! Shorey was the messenger. The tears stood in her eyes when she delivered her message.

  You, my dear, are happy! May you always be so! And then I can never be wholly miserable. Adieu, my beloved friend!

  CL. HARLOWE

  Letter 22: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Sunday morning, March 5

  Hannah has just brought me, from the private place in the garden-wall, a letter from Mr Lovelace, deposited last night, signed also by Lord M.

  He tells me in it, ‘That Mr Solmes makes it his boast that he is to be married in a few days to one of the shyest women in England; that my brother explains his meaning to be me, assuring everyone that his youngest sister is very soon to be Mr Solmes’s wife. He tells me of the patterns bespoke, which my mamma mentioned to me.’

  Not one thing escapes him that is done or said in this house!

  ‘He knows not what my relations’ inducements can be, to prefer such a man as Solmes to him.

  ‘As to his estate or family, the first cannot be excepted against; and for the second, he will not disgrace himself by a comparison so odious. He appeals to Lord M. for the regularity of his life and manners, ever since he has made his addresses to me, or had hope of my favour.’

  I suppose he would have his Lordship’s signing to this letter to be taken as a voucher for him.

  ‘He desires my leave, in company with my Lord, in a pacific manner to attend my father or uncles, in order to make proposals that must be accepted, if they will but see him and hear what they are; and tells me that he will submit to any measures that I shall prescribe, in order to bring about a reconciliation.’

  He presumes to be very earnest with me ‘to give him a private meeting some night in my father’s garden, attended by whom I please.’

  Really, my dear, were you to see his letter, you would think I had given him great encouragement and were in direct treaty with him; or that he were sure that my friends would drive me into a foreign protection; for he has the boldness to offer, in my Lord’s name, an asylum to me should I be tyrannically treated in Solmes’s behalf.

  I suppose it is the way of this sex to endeavour to entangle the thoughtless of ours by bold supposals and offers, in hopes that we shall be too complaisant or bashful to quarrel with them; and, if not checked, to reckon upon our silence as assents voluntarily given, or concessions made in their favour.

  There are other particulars in this letter which I ought to mention to you; but I will take an opportunity to send you the letter itself, or a copy of it.

  For my own part, I am very uneasy to think how I have been drawn on one hand, and driven on the other, into a clandestine, in short, into a mere lover-like correspondence, which my heart condemns.

  It is easy to see that if I do not break it off, Mr Lovelace’s advantages by reason of my unhappy situation will every day increase, and I shall be more and more entangled; yet if I do put an end to it, without making it a condition of being freed from Mr Solmes’s address—May I, my dear—is it best to continue it a little longer, in hopes, by giving him up, to extricate myself out of the other difficulty? Whose advice can I now ask but yours?

  All my relations are met. They are at breakfast together. Solmes is expected. I am excessively uneasy. I must lay down my pen.

  Letter 23: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Mon. morning, Mar. 6

  They are resolved to break my heart. My poor Hannah is discharged—disgracefully discharged! Thus it was.

  Half an hour after I had sent the poor girl down for my breakfast, that bold creature Betty Barnes, my sister’s confidant and servant (if a favourite maid and confidant can be deemed a servant), came up.

  What, miss, will you please to have for breakfast?

  I was surprised. What will I have for breakfast, Betty! How! what!—how comes it! Then I named Hannah. I could not tell what to say.

  Don’t be surprised, miss. But you’ll see Hannah no more in this house!

  God forbid! Is any harm come to Hannah! What! What is the matter with Hannah?

  Why, miss, the short and the long is this: your papa and mamma think Hannah has stayed long enough in the house to do mischief; and so she is ordered to troop (that was the confident creature’s word); and I am directed to wait upon you.

  I burst into tears. I have no service for you, Betty Barnes, none at all. But where is Hannah? Cannot I speak with the poor girl. I owe her half a year’s wages. May I not see the honest creature and pay her her wages? I may never see her again perhaps, for they are resolved to break my heart.

  And they think, you are resolved to break theirs: so tit for tat, miss.

  Impertinent I called her; and asked her if it were upon such confident terms that her service was to commence.

  I was so very earnest to see the poor maid that, to oblige me, as she said, she went down with my request.

  The worthy creature was as earnest to see me; and the favour was granted in presence of Shorey and Betty.

  I thanked her, when she came up, for her past service to me.

  Her heart was ready to break. And she fell a-vindicating her fidelity and love, and disclaiming any mischief she had ever made.

  I told her that those who occasioned her being turned out of my service made no question of her integrity: that it was an indignity levelled at me: that I was very sorry for it, and hoped she would meet with as good a service.

  Never, never, wringing her hands, a mistress she loved so well. And the poor creature ran on in my praises, and in professions of love to me.

  I gave her a little linen, some laces and other odd things; and, instead of four pounds which were due to her, ten guineas: and said, if ever I were again allowed to be my own mistress, I would think of her in the first place.

  Hannah told me, before their faces, having no other opportunity, that she had been examined about letters to me, and from me: and that she had given her pockets to Miss Harlowe, who looked into them and put her fingers in her stays, to satisfy herself that she had not any.

  She gave me an account of the number of my pheasants and bantams; and I said they should be my own care twice or thrice a day.

  We wept over each other at parting. The girl prayed for all the family.

  To have so good a servant so disgracefully dismissed is a cutting thing: and I could not help saying, that these methods might break my heart, but not any other way answer the end of the authors of my disgraces.

  Thus have I been forced to part with my faithful Hannah. If you can commend the good creature to a place worthy of her, pray do, for my sake.

  Letter 25: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

  Tues. March 7

  By my last deposit, you’ll see how I am driven, and what a poor prisoner I am; no regard had to my reputation. The whole matter is now before you. Can such measures be supposed to soften? But surely they can only mean to try to frighten me into my brother’s views. All my hope is to be able to weather this point till my cousin Morden comes from Florence; and he is expected soon. Yet, if they are determined upon a short day, I doubt he will not be here time enough to save me.

  They think they have done everything by turning away my poor Hannah: but as long as the liberty of the garden, and my poultry-visits are allowed me, they will be mistaken.

  I asked Mrs Betty if she had any orders to watch or attend me? or, whether I were to ask her leave, whenever I should be disposed to walk in the garden, or to go to feed my bantams?

  Lord bless her! what could I mean by such a question! Yet she owned that she had heard that I
was not to walk in the garden when my papa, mamma, or uncles were there.

  However, as it behoved me to be assured on this head, I went down directly, and stayed an hour, without question or impediment: and yet a good part of the time, I walked under, and in sight (as I may say) of my brother’s study window, where both he and my sister happened to be. And I am sure they saw me, by the loud mirth they affected by way of insult, as I suppose.

  So this part of my restraint was doubtless a stretch of the authority given him. The enforcing of that may perhaps come next. But I hope not.

  Tuesday night

  • • •

  Since I wrote the above, I have ventured to send a letter by Shorey to my mamma. I directed her to give it into her own hand when nobody was by.

  I shall enclose the copy of it. You’ll see that I would have it thought, that now Hannah is gone I have no way to correspond out of the house. I am far from thinking all I do, right. I am afraid this is a little piece of art, that is not so. But this is an afterthought: the letter went first.

  • • •

  Clarissa to Mrs Harlowe

  Honoured madam,

  Having acknowledged to you that I had received letters from Mr Lovelace full of resentment, and that I answered them purely to prevent further mischief; and having showed you copies of my answers, which you did not disapprove of, although you thought fit, after you had read them, to forbid me any further correspondence with him; I think it my duty to acquaint you that another letter from him has since come to my hand, in which he is very earnest with me to permit him to wait on my papa, or you, or my two uncles, in a pacific way, accompanied by Lord M. on which I beg your commands.

  I own to you, madam, that had not the prohibition been renewed, and had not Hannah been so suddenly dismissed my service, I should have made the less scruple to have written an answer and to have commanded her to convey it to him with all speed, in order to dissuade him from these visits, lest anything should happen on the occasion that my heart aches but to think of.