LETTER XV
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY NIGHT, APRIL 13.
I always loved writing, and my unhappy situation gives me now enough ofit; and you, I fear, too much. I have had another very warm debate withMr. Lovelace. It brought on the subject which you advised me not todecline, when it was handsomely offered. And I want to have either youracquittal or blame for having suffered it to go off without effect.
The impatient wretch sent up to me several times, while I was writing mylast to you, to desire my company: yet his business nothing particular;only to hear him talk. The man seems pleased with his own volubility;and, whenever he has collected together abundance of smooth things, hewants me to find an ear for them! Yet he need not; for I don't oftengratify him either with giving him the praise for his verboseness, orshewing the pleasure in it that he would be fond of.
When I had finished the letter, and given it to Mr. Hickman's friend, Iwas going up again, and had got up half a dozen stairs; when he besoughtbe to stop, and hear what he had to say.
Nothing, as I said, to any new purpose had he to offer; butcomplainings; and those in a manner, and with an air, as I thought, thatbordered upon insolence. He could not live, he told me, unless he hadmore of my company, and of my indulgence too, that I had yet given him.
Hereupon I stept down, and into the parlour, not a little out of humourwith him; and the more, as he has very quietly taken up his quartershere, without talking of removing, as he had promised.
We began instantly our angry conference. He provoked me; and I repeatedseveral of the plainest things I had said in our former conversations;and particularly told him, that I was every hour more and moredissatisfied with myself, and with him: that he was not a man, who, inmy opinion, improved upon acquaintance: and that I should not be easytill he had left me to myself.
He might be surprised at my warmth, perhaps: but really the man lookedso like a simpleton, hesitating, and having nothing to say for himself,or that should excuse the peremptoriness of his demand upon me, (when heknew I had been writing a letter which a gentleman waited for,) that Iflung from him, declaring, that I would be mistress of my own time, andof my own actions, and not to be called to account for either.
He was very uneasy till he could again be admitted into my company, andwhen I was obliged to see him, which was sooner than I liked, never didthe man put on a more humble and respectful demeanor.
He told me, that he had, upon this occasion, been entering intohimself, and had found a great deal of reason to blame himself for animpertinency and inconsideration which, although he meant nothing byit, must be very disagreeable to one of my delicacy. That having alwaysaimed at a manly sincerity and openness of heart, he had not till nowdiscovered, that both were very consistent with that true politeness,which he feared he had too much disregarded, while he sought to avoidthe contrary extreme; knowing, that in me he had to deal with a lady,who despised an hypocrite, and who was above all flattery. But from thistime forth, I should find such an alteration in his whole behaviour, asmight be expected from a man who knew himself to be honoured with thepresence and conversation of a person, who had the most delicate mind inthe world--that was his flourish.
I said, that he might perhaps expect congratulation upon the discoveryhe had just now made, to wit, that true politeness and sincerity werereconcilable: but that I, who had, by a perverse fate, been thrown intohis company, had abundant reason to regret that he had not sooner foundthis out.--Since, I believed, very few men of birth and education werestrangers to it.
He knew not, neither, he said, that he had so badly behaved himself, asto deserve so very severe a rebuke.
Perhaps not, I replied: but he might, if so, make another discovery fromwhat I had said; which might be to my own disadvantage: since, if hehad so much reason to be satisfied with himself, he would see what anungenerous person he spoke to, who, when he seemed to give himself airsof humility, which, perhaps he thought beneath him to assume, had notthe civility to make him a compliment upon them; but was ready to takehim at his word.
He had long, with infinite pleasure, the pretended flattery-hater said,admired my superior talents, and a wisdom in so young a lady, perfectlysuprising.
Let me, Madam, said he, stand ever so low in your opinion, I shallbelieve all you say to be just; and that I have nothing to do but togovern myself for the future by your example, and by the standard youshall be pleased to give me.
I know better, Sir, replied I, than to value myself upon your volubilityof speech. As you pretend to pay so preferable a regard to sincerity,you shall confine yourself to the strict rules of truth, when you speakof me, to myself: and then, although you shall be so kind as to imaginethat you have reason to make me a compliment, you will have much moreto pride yourself in those arts which have made so extraordinary a youngcreature so great a fool.
Really, my dear, the man deserves not politer treatment.--And then hashe not made a fool, an egregious fool of me?--I am afraid he himselfthinks he has.
I am surprised! I am amazed, Madam, returned he, at so strange a turnupon me!--I am very unhappy, that nothing I can do or say will giveyou a good opinion of me!--Would to heaven that I knew what I can do toobtain the honour of your confidence!
I told him, that I desired his absence, of all things. I saw not,I said, that my friends thought it worth their while to give medisturbance: therefore, if he would set out for London, or Berkshire, orwhither he pleased, it would be most agreeable to me, and most reputabletoo.
He would do so, he said, he intended to do so, the moment I was in aplace to my liking--in a place convenient for me.
This, Sir, will be so, said I, when you are not here to break in uponme, and make the apartments inconvenient.
He did not think this place safe, he replied; and as I intended not tostay here, he had not been so solicitous, as otherwise he should havebeen, to enjoin privacy to his servants, nor to Mrs. Greme at herleaving me; that there were two or three gentlemen at the neighbourhood,he said, with whose servants his gossiping fellows had scrapedacquaintance: so that he could not think of leaving me here unguardedand unattended.--But fix upon any place in England where I could beout of danger, and he would go to the furthermost part of the king'sdominions, if by doing so he could make me easy.
I told him plainly that I should never be in humour with myself formeeting him; nor with him, for seducing me away: that my regretsincreased, instead of diminished: that my reputation was wounded: thatnothing I could do would now retrieve it: and that he must not wonder,if I every hour grew more and more uneasy both with myself and him: thatupon the whole, I was willing to take care of myself; and when he hadleft me, I should best know what to resolve upon, and whither to go.
He wished, he said, he were at liberty, without giving me offence, orbeing thought to intend to infringe the articles I had stipulated andinsisted upon, to make one humble proposal to me. But the sacred regardhe was determined to pay to all my injunctions (reluctantly as I had onMonday last put it into his power to serve me) would not permit him tomake it, unless I would promise to excuse him, if I did not approve ofit.
I asked, in some confusion, what he would say?
He prefaced and paraded on; and then out came, with great diffidence,and many apologies, and a bashfulness which sat very awkwardly upon him,a proposal of speedy solemnization: which, he said, would put all right;and make my first three or four months (which otherwise must be passedin obscurity and apprehension) a round of visits and visitings to andfrom all his relations; to Miss Howe; to whom I pleased: and would pavethe way to the reconciliation I had so much at heart.
Your advice had great weight with me just then, as well as his reasons,and the consideration of my unhappy situation: But what could I say? Iwanted somebody to speak for me.
The man saw I was not angry at his motion. I only blushed; and that I amsure I did up to the ears; and looked silly, and like a fool.
He wants not courage. Would he have had me catch at his fi
rst, at hisvery first word?--I was silent too--and do not the bold sex take silencefor a mark of a favour!--Then, so lately in my father's house! Havingalso declared to him in my letters, before I had your advice, thatI would not think of marriage till he had passed through a state ofprobation, as I may call it--How was it possible I could encourage, withvery ready signs of approbation, such an early proposal? especially sosoon after the free treatment he had provoked from me. If I were to die,I could not.
He looked at me with great confidence; as if (notwithstanding hiscontradictory bashfulness) he would look me through; while my eyebut now-and-then could glance at him.--He begged my pardon with greathumility: he was afraid I would think he deserved no other answer, butthat of a contemptuous silence. True love was fearful of offending.[Take care, Mr. Lovelace, thought I, how your's is tried by thatrule]. Indeed so sacred a regard [foolish man!] would he have to all mydeclarations made before I honoured him--
I would hear him no further; but withdrew in a confusion too visible,and left him to make his nonsensical flourishes to himself.
I will only add, that, if he really wishes for a speedy solemnization,he never could have had a luckier time to press for my consent to it.But he let it go off; and indignation has taken place of it. And now itshall be a point with me, to get him at a distance from me.
I am, my dearest friend, Your ever faithful and obliged CL. H.