Your kind, your precautionary regard for my fame, and the opportunity you have given me to tell my own story, previous to any new accident (which heaven avert!), is so like the warm friend I have ever found my dear Miss Howe, that with redoubled obligation you bind me to be

Your ever-grateful and affectionate

CLARISSA HARLOWE

Letter 5: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

Jan. 20

I have been hindered from prosecuting my intention. Neither nights nor mornings have been my own. My mamma has been very ill and would have no other nurse but me. I have not stirred from her bedside, for she kept her bed, and two nights I had the honour of sharing it with her.

Her disorder was a very violent colic. The contentions of these fierce, these masculine spirits, and the apprehension of mischiefs that may arise from the increasing animosity which all here have against Mr Lovelace, and his too-well-known resentful and intrepid character, she cannot bear. Then the foundations laid, as she dreads, for jealousy and heart-burnings in her own family, late so happy and so united, afflict exceedingly a gentle and sensible mind, which has from the beginning on all occasions sacrificed its own inward satisfaction to outward peace. My brother and sister, who used very often to jar, are now so much one and are so much together (caballing was the word that dropped from her, as if at unawares) that she is full of fears of consequences that may follow—to my prejudice, perhaps, is her kind concern, since she sees that they behave to me every hour with more and more shyness and reserve; yet would she but exert that authority which the superiority of her fine talents gives her, all these family feuds might perhaps be crushed in their but yet beginnings; especially as she may be assured that all fitting concessions shall be made by me, not only as they are my elders, but for the sake of so excellent and so indulgent a mother.

For, if I may say to you my dear, what I would not to any other person living, it is my opinion that had she been of a temper that would have borne less, she would have had ten times less to bear than she has had.

But whither may these reflections lead me? I know you do not love any of us, but my mamma and me; and, being above all disguises, make me sensible that you do not, oftener than I wish you did. Ought I then to add force to your dislikes of those whom I wish you more to like—my father, especially; for he, poor gentleman! has some excuse for his impatience of contradiction. He is not naturally an ill-tempered man; and in his person and air and in his conversation too, when not under the torture of a gouty paroxysm, everybody distinguishes the gentleman born and educated.

But my brother! what excuse can be made for his haughty and morose temper? He is really, my dear, I am sorry to have occasion to say it, an ill-tempered young man, and treats my mamma sometimes—indeed he is not dutiful. But possessing everything, he has the vice of age mingled with the ambition of youth, and enjoys nothing—but his own haughtiness and ill-temper, I was going to say. Yet again am I adding force to your dislikes of some of us. Once, my dear, it was perhaps in your power to have moulded him as you pleased. Could you have been my sister [sister-in-law]! Then had I had a friend in a sister.

But no more of this. I will prosecute my former intention in my next, which I will sit down to as soon as breakfast is over, dispatching this by the messenger whom you have so kindly sent to inquire after us, on my silence. Meantime, I am

Your most affectionate and obliged

friend and servant,

CL. HARLOWE

Letter 6: MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MISS HOWE

Harlowe Place, Jan. 20

I will now resume my narrative of proceedings here. My brother being in a good way, although you may be sure that his resentments are rather heightened than abated by the galling disgrace he has received, my friends (my papa and uncles, however, if not my brother and sister) begin to think that I have been treated unkindly. My mamma has been so good as to tell me this since I sent away my last.

Nevertheless I believe they all think that I receive letters from Mr Lovelace. But Lord M. being inclined rather to support than to blame his nephew, they seem to be so much afraid of him that they do not put it to me whether I do or not, conniving on the contrary, as it should seem, at the only method left to allay the vehemence of a spirit which they have so much provoked, for he still insists upon satisfaction from my uncles, and this possibly (for he wants not art) as the best way to be introduced again with some advantage into our family. And indeed my aunt Hervey has put it to my mamma, whether it were not best to prevail upon my brother to take a turn to his Yorkshire estate, which he was intending to do before, and to tarry there till all is blown over.

But this is very far from being his intention, for he has already begun to hint again that he shall never be easy or satisfied till I am married, and finding neither Mr Symmes nor Mr Mullins will be accepted, has proposed Mr Wyerley once more on the score of his great passion for me. This I have again rejected, and but yesterday he mentioned one who has applied to him by letter, making high offers. This is Mr Solmes; rich Solmes, you know they call him. But this has not met with the attention of one single soul.

If none of his schemes of marrying me take effect, he has thoughts, I am told, of proposing to me to go to Scotland in order, as the compliment is, to put his house there in such order as our own is in. But this my mamma intends to oppose for her own sake; because, having relieved her, as she is pleased to say, of the household cares (for which my sister, you know, has no turn) they must again devolve upon her if I go. And if she did not oppose it, I should; for, believe me, I have no mind to be his housekeeper; and I am sure, were I to go with him, I should be treated rather as a servant than a sister—perhaps not the better because I am his sister. And if Mr Lovelace should follow me, things might be worse than they are now.

But I have besought my mamma, who is apprehensive of Mr Lovelace’s visits, and for fear of whom my uncles never stir out without arms and armed servants (my brother also being near well enough to go abroad again) to procure me permission to be your guest for a fortnight, or so. Will your mamma, think you, my dear, give me leave?

I dare not ask to go to my dairy-house, as my good grandfather would call it; for I am now afraid of being thought to have a wish to enjoy that independence to which his will has entitled me: and as matters are situated, such a wish would be imputed to my favour to the man whom they have now so great an antipathy to.