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Clarissa V. The history of a young lady

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CLARISSA V
should, when she has no favours to confer which he has not a right to demand, provoke him to throw off the too-heavy yoke. And should he do so, and then treat her with negli­gence, Miss Howe, of all the women I know, will be the least able to support herself under it. She will then be more un­happy than she ever made him; for a man who is uneasy at home, can divert himself abroad; which a woman cannot so easily do, without scandal. – Permit me to take farther no­tice, as to Miss Howe, that it is very obvious to me, that she has, by her haughty behaviour to this worthy man, involved herself in one diffi culty, from which she knows not how to extricate herself with that grace which accompanies all her actions. She intends to have Mr. Hickman. I believe she does not dislike him. And it will cost her no small pains to descend from the elevation she has climbed to.
Another inconvenience she will suffer from her having taught every body (for she is above disguise) to think, by her treatment of Mr. Hickman, much more meanly of him than he deserves to be thought of. And must she not suffer dishon­our in his dishonour?
Mrs. Howe is much disturbed at her daughter’s behav­iour to the gentleman. He is very deservedly a favourite of her’s. But [another failing in Miss Howe] her mother has not all the authority with her that a mother ought to have. Miss Howe is indeed a woman of fi ne sense; but it requires a high degree of good understanding, as well as a sweet and gentle disposition of mind, and great discretion, in a child, when grown up, to let it be seen, that she mingles reverence with her love, to a parent, who has talents visibly inferior to her own.
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Miss Howe is open, generous, noble. The mother has not any of her fi ne qualities. Parents, in order to preserve their children’s veneration for them, should take great care not to let them see any thing in their conduct, or behaviour, or prin­ciples, which they themselves would not approve of in others.
Mr. Hickman has, however, this consideration to comfort himself with, that the same vivacity by which he suffers, makes Miss Howe’s own mother, at times, equally sensible. And as he sees enough of this beforehand, he will have more reason to blame himself than the lady, should she prove as lively a wife as she was a mistress, for having continued his addresses, and married her, against such threatening appearances.
There is also another circumstance which good-natured men, who engage with even lively women, may look for­ward to with pleasure; a circumstance which generally lowers the spirits of the ladies, and domesticates them, as I may call it; and which, as it will bring those of Mr. Hickman and Miss Howe nearer to a par, that worthy gentleman will have double reason, when it happens, to congratulate himself upon it.
But after all, I see that there is something so charmingly brilliant and frank in Miss Howe’s disposition, although at present visibly overclouded by grief, that it is impossible not to love her, even for her failings. She may, and I hope she will, make Mr. Hickman an obliging wife. And if she does, she will have additional merit with me; since she cannot be apprehen­sive of check or controul; and may therefore, by her generosity and prudence, lay an obligation upon her husband, by the per­formance of what is no more than her duty.
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Her mother both loves and fears her. Yet is Mrs. Howe also a woman of vivacity, and ready enough, I dare say, to cry out when she is pained. But, alas! she has, as I hinted above, weak­ened her authority by the narrowness of her mind.
Yet once she praised her daughter to me with so much warmth for the generosity of her spirit, that had I not known the old lady’s character, I should have thought her generous herself. And yet I have always observed, that people of nar­row tempers are ready to praise generous ones: – and thus have I accounted for it – that such persons generally fi nd it to their purpose, that all the world should be open-minded but themselves.
The old lady applied herself to me, to urge to the young one the contents of the will, in order to hasten her to fi x a day for her marriage; but desired that I would not let Miss Howe know that she did.
I took the liberty upon it to tell Miss Howe that I hoped that her part of a will, so soon, and so punctually, in almost all its other articles, fulfi lled, would not be the only one that would be slighted.
Her answer was, she would consider of it: and made me a courtesy with such an air, as showed me that she thought me more out of my sphere, than I could allow her to think me, had I been permitted to argue the point with her.
I found Miss Howe and her own servant-maid in deep mourning. This, it seems, had occasioned a great debate at fi rst between her mother and her. Her mother had the words of the will on her side; and Mr. Hickman’s interest in her view; her daughter having said that she would wear it for six months at
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least. But the young lady carried her point – “Strange,” said she, “if I, who shall mourn the heavy, the irreparable loss to the last hour of my life, should not show my concern to the world for a few months!”Mr. Hickman, for his part, was so far from uttering an opposing word on this occasion, that, on the very day that Miss Howe put on her’s, he waited on her in a new suit of mourning, as for a near relation. His servants and equipage made the same respectful appearance.
Whether the mother was consulted by him in it, I cannot say; but the daughter knew nothing of it, till she saw him in it; she looked at him with surprise, and asked him for whom he mourned?
The dear, and ever-dear Miss Harlowe, he said.
She was at a loss, it seems. At last – All the world ought to mourn for my Clarissa, said she; But whom, man, [that was her whimsical address to him,] thinkest thou to oblige by this appearance?
It is more than appearance, Madam. I love not my own sis­ter, worthy as she is, better than I loved Miss Clarissa Harlowe. I oblige myself by it. And if I disoblige not you, that is all I wish.
She surveyed him, I am told, from head to foot. She knew not, at fi rst, whether to be angry or pleased. – At length, “I thought at fi rst,” said she, “that you might have a bolder and freer motive – but (as my Mamma says) you may be a well­meaning man, though generally a little wrong-headed – how­ever, as the world is censorious, and may think us nearer of kin than I would have it supposed, I must take care that I am not seen abroad in your company.”But let me add, Mr. Belford, that if this compliment of Mr. Hickman (or this more than compli-
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ment, as I may call it, since the worthy man speaks not of my dear cousin without emotion) does not produce a short day, I shall think Miss Howe has less generosity in her temper than I am willing to allow her.
You will excuse me, Mr. Belford, for the particularities which you invited and encouraged. Having now seen every thing that relates to the will of my dear cousin brought to a desirable issue, I will set about making my own. I shall fol­low the dear creature’s example, and give my reasons for every article, that there may be no room for after-contention.
What but a fear of death, a fear unworthy of a creature who knows that he must one day as surely die as he was born, can hinder any one from making such a disposition?
I hope soon to pay my respects to you in town. Mean time, I am, with great respect, dear Sir,
Your faithful and affectionate humble servant,
WM. MORDEN.
LETTER XLVII
Mr. Belford, to Miss Howe
Thursday, Sept. 28.
MADAM,
I do myself the honour to send you by this, according to my promise, exalted friend.
These will be accompanied with other letters, particular­ly a copy of one from Mr. Lovelace, begun to be written on the 14th, and continued down to the 18th. Madam, the dreadful anguish that his spirits labour with, and his deep remorse.
Mr. Lovelace sent for this letter back. I complied; but I fi rst took a copy of it. As I have not told him that I have done so, you will be pleased to forbear communicating of it to any body but Mr. Hickman. That gentleman’s perusal of it will be the same as if nobody but yourself saw it.
25
copies of the posthumous letters written by your
26
You will see by it,
25
See Letter XXXVI. of this volume.
26
See Letter XXXVII. ibid.
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One of the letters of Colonel Morden, which I enclose, you will observe, Madam, is only a copy.
27
The true reason for which, as I will ingenuously acknowledge, is, some free, but respectful animadversions which the Colonel has made upon your declining to carry into execution your part of your dear friend’s last requests. I have therefore, in respect to that worthy gentleman, (having a caution from him on that head,) omitted those parts.
Will you allow me, Madam, however, to tell you, that I my­self could not have believed that my inimitable testatrix’s own Miss Howe would have been the most backward in perform­ing such a part of her dear friend’s last will, as is entirely in her own power to perform – especially, when that performance would make one of the most deserving men in England happy; and whom, I presume, she proposes to honour with her hand.
Excuse me, Madam, I have a most sincere veneration for you; and would not disoblige you for the world.
I will not presume to make remarks on the letters I send you; nor upon the informations I have to give you of the dread­ful end of two unhappy wretches who were the greatest crim­inals in the affair of your adorable friend. These are the in­famous Sinclair, and a person whom you have read of, no doubt, in the letters of the charming innocent, by the name of Captain Tomlinson.
The wretched woman died in the extremest tortures and despondency: the man from wounds got in defending him­self in carrying on a contraband trade; both accusing them­selves, in their last hours, for the parts they had acted against
27
The preceding Letter.
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the most excellent of women, as of the crime that gave them the deepest remorse.
Give me leave to say, Madam, that if your compassion be not excited for the poor man who suffers so greatly from his own anguish of mind, as you will observe by his letter he does; and for the unhappy family, whose remorse, you will see by Colo­nel Morden’s, is so deep; your terror must. And yet I should not wonder, if the just sense of the irreparable loss you have sus­tained hardens a heart against pity, which, on a less extraor­dinary occasion, would want its principal grace, if it were not compassionate.
I am, Madam, with the greatest respect and gratitude, Your most obliged and faithful humble servant, J. BELFORD.
LETTER XLVIII
Miss Howe, to John Belford, Esq.
Saturday, Sept. 30.
SIR,
I little thought I ever could have owed so much obliga­tion to any man as you have laid me under. And yet what you have sent me has almost broken my heart, and ruined my eyes.
I am surprised, though agreeably, that you have so soon, and so well, got over that part of the trust you have engaged in, which relates to the family.
It may be presumed, from the exits you mention of two of the infernal man’s accomplices, that the thunderbolt will not stop short of the principal. Indeed I have some pleasure to think it seems rolling along towards the devoted head that has plotted all the mischief. But let me, however, say, that al­though I think Mr. Morden not altogether in the wrong in his reasons for resentment, as he is the dear creature’s kinsman and trustee, yet I think you very much in the right in endeav­ouring to dissuade him from it, as you are her executor, and act in pursuance of her earnest request.
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But what a letter is that of the infernal man’s! I cannot ob­serve upon it. Neither can I, for very different reasons, upon my dear creature’s posthumous letters; particularly on that to him. O Mr. Belford! what numberless perfections died, when my Clarissa drew her last breath!
If decency be observed in his letters, for I have not yet had patience to read above two or three of them, (besides this hor­rid one, which I return to you enclosed,) I may some time hence be curious to look, by their means, into the hearts of wretches, which, though they must be the abhorrence of virtuous minds, will, when they are laid open, (as I presume they are in them,) afford a proper warning to those who read them, and teach them to detest men of such profl igate characters.
If your reformation be sincere, you will not be offended that I do not except you on this occasion. – And thus have I helped you to a criterion to try yourself by.
By this letter of the wicked man it is apparent that there are still wickeder women. But see what a guilty commerce with the devils of your sex will bring those to whose morals ye have ruined! – For these women were once innocent: it was man that made them otherwise. The fi rst bad man, per­haps, threw them upon worse men; those upon still worse; till they commenced devils incarnate – the height of wickedness or of shame is not arrived at all at once, as I have somewhere heard observed.
But this man, this monster rather, for him to curse these women, and to curse the dear creature’s family (implacable as the latter were,) in order to lighten a burden he voluntarily took up, and groans under, is meanness added to wickedness:
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