Still the less, perhaps, as I love writing; and those who do are fond, you know, of occasions to use the pen: and then, having everyone’s consent, and my uncle Hervey’s desire that I would, I thought that if I had been the only scrupulous person, it would have shown a particularity that a vain man would construe to his advantage, and which my sister would not fail to animadvert upon.

Thus was a kind of correspondence begun between him and me with general approbation; while everyone wondered at, and was pleased with, his patient veneration of me, for so they called it. However, it was not doubted that he would soon be more importunate, since his visits were more frequent and he acknowledged to my aunt Hervey a passion for me, accompanied with an awe that he had never known before; to which he attributed what he called his but seeming acquiescence with my papa’s pleasure and the distance I kept him at. And yet, my dear, this may be his usual manner of behaviour to our sex; for had not my sister, at first, all his reverences?

Meantime, my father, expecting this importunity, kept in readiness the reports he had heard in his disfavour, to charge them upon him then, as so many objections to his address. And it was highly agreeable to me, that he did so: it would have been strange, if it were not, since the person who could reject Mr Wyerley’s address for the sake of his free opinions must have been inexcusable had she not rejected another’s for his freer practices.

But I should own that in the letters he sent me upon the general subject, he more than once enclosed a particular one declaring his passionate regards for me, and complaining with fervour enough of my reserves: but of these I took not the least notice; for as I had not written to him at all, but upon a subject so general, I thought it was but right to let what he wrote upon one so particular pass off as if I never had seen it; and the rather as I was not then at liberty, from the approbation his letters met with, to break off the correspondence without assigning the true reason for doing so. Besides, with all his respectful assiduities, it was easy to observe (if it had not been his general character) that his temper is naturally haughty and violent; and I had seen of that untractable spirit in my brother to like it in one who hoped to be still nearer related to me.

I had a little specimen of this temper of his upon the very occasion I have mentioned; for after he had sent me a third particular letter with the general one, he asked me the next time he came to Harlowe Place if I had not received such a one from him? I told him I should never answer one so sent, and that I had waited for such an occasion as he had now given me to tell him so. I desired him therefore not to write again on the subject, assuring him that if he did, I would return both, and never write another line to him.

You cannot imagine how saucily the man looked; as if, in short, he was disappointed that he had not made a more sensible impression upon me; and when he recollected himself (as he did immediately), what a visible struggle it cost him to change his haughty airs for more placid ones! But I took no notice of either, for I thought it best to convince him by the coolness and indifference with which I repulsed his forward hopes (at the same time intending to avoid the affection of pride or vanity) that he was not considerable enough in my eyes to make me take over-ready offence at what he said, or how he looked: in other words, that I had not value enough for him to treat him with peculiarity either by smiles or frowns. Indeed, he had cunning enough to give me, undesignedly, a piece of instruction which taught me this caution; for he had said in conversation once, ‘That if a man could not make a lady in courtship own herself pleased with him, it was as much and oftentimes more to his purpose to make her angry with him.’

I must break off here. But will continue the subject the very first opportunity. Meantime, I am,

Your most affectionate friend and servant,

CL. HARLOWE

Letter 4: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

Jan. 15

This, my dear, was the situation Mr Lovelace and I were in when my brother arrived from Scotland.

The moment Mr Lovelace’s visits were mentioned to him, he, without either hesitation or apology, expressed his disapprobation of them. He found great flaws in his character, and took the liberty to say in so many words that he wondered how it came into the hearts of his uncles to encourage such a man for either of his sisters; at the same time returning his thanks to my father for declining his consent till he arrived, in such a manner, I thought, as a superior would do when he commended an inferior for having well performed his duty in his absence.

He justified his avowed inveteracy by common fame, and by what he had known of him at college; declaring that he had ever hated him; ever should hate him; and would never own him for a brother, or me for a sister, if I married him.

That college-begun antipathy I have heard accounted for in this manner:

Mr Lovelace was always noted for his vivacity and courage; and no less, it seems, for the swift and surprising progress he made in all parts of literature; for diligence in his studies, in the hours of study, he had hardly his equal. This, it seems, was his general character at the university, and it gained him many friends among the more learned youth; while those who did not love him feared him by reason of the offence his vivacity made him too ready to give, and of the courage he showed in supporting the offence when given, which procured him as many followers as he pleased among the mischievous sort. No very amiable character, you’ll say, upon the whole.

But my brother’s temper was not happier. His native haughtiness could not bear a superiority so visible; and whom we fear more than love, we are not far from hating: and having less command of his passions than the other, was evermore the subject of his, perhaps indecent, ridicule: so that they never met without quarrelling. And everybody, either from love or fear, siding with his antagonist, he had a most uneasy time of it, while both continued in the same college. It was the less wonder, therefore, that a young man who is not noted for the gentleness of his temper should resume an antipathy early begun, and so deeply-rooted.

He found my sister, who waited but for the occasion, ready to join him in his resentments against the man he hated. She utterly disclaimed all manner of regard for him: ‘Never liked him at all. His estate was certainly much encumbered: it was impossible it should be otherwise, so entirely devoted as he was to his pleasures. He kept no house; had no equipage: nobody pretended that he wanted pride: the reason therefore was easy to be guessed at’: And then did she boast of, and my brother praise her for, refusing him; and both joined on all occasions to depreciate him, and not seldom made the occasions; their displeasure against him causing every subject to run into this, if it began not with it.

Now and then, indeed, when I observed that their vehemence carried them beyond all bounds of probability, I thought it but justice to put in a word for him. But this only subjected me to reproach, as having a prepossession in his favour that I would not own. So that when I could not change the subject, I used to retire either to my music or to my closet [small study].

Their behaviour to him when they could not help seeing him was very cold and disobliging; but as yet not directly affrontive; for they were in hopes of prevailing upon my papa to forbid his visits. But as there was nothing in his behaviour that might warrant such a treatment of a man of his birth and fortune, they succeeded not; and then they were very earnest with me to forbid them. I asked what authority I had to take such a step in my father’s house; and when my behaviour to him was so distant, that he seemed to be as much the guest of any other person of the family, themselves excepted, as mine? In revenge, they told me that it was cunning management between us; and that we both understood one another better than we pretended to do. And at last they gave such a loose to their passions all of a sudden, as I may say, that instead of withdrawing as they used to do when he came, they threw themselves in his way purposely to affront him.

Mr Lovelace, you may believe, very ill brooked this; but nevertheless contented himself to complain of it to me, in high terms, however, telling me that but for my sake my brother’s treatment of him was not to be borne.

I was sorry for the merit this gave him, in his own opinion, with me; and the more as some of the affronts he received were too flagrant to be excused. But I told him that I was determined not to fall out with my brother, if I could help it, whatever were his faults; and since they could not see one another with temper, should be glad that he would not throw himself in my brother’s way, and I was sure my brother would not seek him.

He was very much nettled at this answer; but said he must bear his affronts if I would have it so. He had been accused himself of violence in his temper, but he hoped to show on this occasion that he had a command of his passions which few young men, so provoked, would be able to show; and doubted not but it would be attributed to a proper motive by a person of my generosity and penetration.

I am obliged to break off. But I believe I have written enough to answer very fully all that you have commanded from me. It is not for a child to seek to clear her own character, or to justify her actions, at the expense of the most revered ones; yet, as I know that the account of all those further proceedings by which I may be affected will be interesting to so dear a friend (who will communicate to others no more than what is fitting), I will continue to write as I have opportunity, as minutely as we are used to write to each other. Indeed I have no delight, as I have often told you, equal to that which I take in conversing with you—by letter, when I cannot in person.

Meantime, I can’t help saying that I am exceedingly concerned to find, that I am become so much the public talk, as you tell me, and as everybody tells me, I am.