Clarissa Harlowe: Or, the History of a Young Lady, Volume 8 (24 page)

And thus am I blamed for every one's faults!--When her brutal father curses her, it is I. I upbraid her with her severe mother. The implacableness of her stupid uncles is all mine. The virulence of her brother, and the spite of her sister, are entirely owing to me. The letter of this rascal Brand is of my writing--O Jack, what a wretch is thy Lovelace!

***

Returned without a letter!--This d----d fellow Will. is returned without a letter!--Yet the rascal tells me that he hears you have been writing to me these two days!

Plague confound thee, who must know my impatience, and the reason for it!

To send a man and horse on purpose; as I did! My imagination chained me to the belly of the beast, in order to keep pace with him!--Now he is got to this place; now to that; now to London; now to thee!

Now [a letter given him] whip and spur upon the return. This town just entered, not staying to bait: that village passed by: leaves the wind behind him; in a foaming sweat man and horse.

And in this way did he actually enter Lord M.'s courtyard.

The reverberating pavement brought me down--The letter, Will.! The letter, dog!--The letter, Sirrah!

No letter, Sir!--Then wildly staring round me, fists clenched, and grinning like a maniac, Confound thee for a dog, and him that sent thee without one!--This moment out of my sight, or I'll scatter thy stupid brains through the air. I snatched from his holsters a pistol, while the rascal threw himself from the foaming beast, and ran to avoid the fate which I wished with all my soul thou hadst been within the reach of me to have met with.

But, to be as meek as a lamb to one who has me at his mercy, and can wring and torture my soul as he pleases, What canst thou mean to send back my varlet without a letter?--I will send away by day-dawn another fellow upon another beast for what thou hast written; and I charge thee on thy allegiance, that thou dispatch him not back empty-handed.

Charlotte, in a whim of delicacy, is displeased that I send the enclosed letter to you--that her handwriting, forsooth! should go into the hands of a single man!

There's encouragement for thee, Belford! This is a certain sign that thou may'st have her if thou wilt. And yet, till she has given me this unerring demonstration of her glancing towards thee, I could not have thought it. Indeed I have often in pleasantry told her that I would bring such an affair to bear. But I never intended it; because she really is a dainty girl; and thou art such a clumsy fellow in thy person, that I should as soon have wished her a rhinoceros for a husband as thee. But, poor little dears! they must stay till their time's come! They won't have this man, and they won't have that man, from seventeen to twenty-five: but then, afraid, as the saying is, that God has forgot them, and finding their bloom departing, they are glad of whom they can get, and verify the fable of the parson and the pears.

I arrived in town yesterday, after a tolerably pleasant journey (considering the hot weather and dusty roads). I put up at the Bull and Gate in Holborn, and hastened to Covent-garden. I soon found the house where the unhappy lady lodgeth. And, in the back shop, had a good deal of discourse* with Mrs. Smith, (her landlady,) whom I found to be so 'highly prepossessed'** in her 'favour,' that I saw it would not answer your desires to take my informations 'altogether' from her: and being obliged to attend my patron, (who to my sorrow,

* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXXI. ** Transcriber's note: Mr. Brand's letters are characterized by a style that makes excessive use of italics for emphasis. Although in the remainder of
Clarissa
I have largely disregarded italics for the sake of plain-text formatting, this style makes such emphatic use of italics that I have indicated all such instances in his letters by placing the italicized words and phrases in quotations, thus ' '.

'Miserum et aliena vivere quadra,')

I find wanteth much waiting upon, and is 'another' sort of man than he was at college: for, Sir, 'inter nos,' 'honours change manners.' For the 'aforesaid causes,' I thought it would best answer all the ends of the commission with which you honoured me, to engage, in the desired scrutiny, the wife of a 'particular friend,' who liveth almost over-against the house where she lodgeth, and who is a gentlewoman of 'character,' and 'sobriety,' a 'mother of children,' and one who 'knoweth' the 'world' well.

To her I applied myself, therefore, and gave her a short history of the case, and desired she would very particularly inquire into the 'conduct' of the unhappy young lady; her 'present way of life' and 'subsistence'; her 'visiters,' her 'employments,' and such-like: for these, Sir, you know, are the things whereof you wished to be informed.

Accordingly, Sir, I waited upon the gentlewoman aforesaid, this day; and, to 'my' very great trouble, (because I know it will be to 'your's,' and likewise to all your worthy family's,) I must say, that I do find things look a little more 'darkly' than I hoped the would. For, alas! Sir, the gentlewoman's report turneth out not so 'favourable' for Miss's reputation, as 'I' wished, as 'you' wished, and as 'every one' of her friends wished. But so it is throughout the world, that 'one false step' generally brings on 'another'; and peradventure 'a worse,' and 'a still worse'; till the poor 'limed soul' (a very fit epithet of the Divine Quarles's!) is quite 'entangled,' and (without infinite mercy) lost for ever.

It seemeth, Sir, she is, notwithstanding, in a very 'ill state of health.' In this, 'both' gentlewomen (that is to say, Mrs. Smith, her landlady, and my friend's wife) agree. Yet she goeth often out in a chair, to 'prayers' (as it is said). But my friend's wife told me, that nothing is more common in London, than that the frequenting of the church at morning prayers is made the 'pretence' and 'cover' for 'private assignations.' What a sad thing is this! that what was designed for 'wholesome nourishment' to the 'poor soul,' should be turned into 'rank poison!' But as Mr. Daniel de Foe (an ingenious man, though a 'dissenter') observeth (but indeed it is an old proverb; only I think he was the first that put it into verse)

God never had a house of pray'r
But Satan had a chapel there.

Yet to do the lady 'justice,' nobody cometh home with her: nor indeed 'can' they, because she goeth forward and backward in a 'sedan,' or 'chair,' (as they call it). But then there is a gentleman of 'no good character' (an 'intimado' of Mr. Lovelace) who is a 'constant' visiter of her, and of the people of the house, whom he 'regaleth' and 'treateth,' and hath (of consequence) their 'high good words.'

I have thereupon taken the trouble (for I love to be 'exact' in any 'commission' I undertake) to inquire 'particularly' about this 'gentleman,' as he is called (albeit I hold no man so but by his actions: for, as Juvenal saith,

--'Nobilitas sola est, atque unica virtus')

And this I did 'before' I would sit down to write to you.

His name is Belford. He hath a paternal estate of upwards of one thousand pounds by the year; and is now in mourning for an uncle who left him very considerably besides. He beareth a very profligate character as to 'women,' (for I inquired particularly about 'that,') and is Mr. Lovelace's more especial 'privado,' with whom he holdeth a 'regular correspondence'; and hath been often seen with Miss (tête à tête) at the 'window'--in no 'bad way,' indeed: but my friend's wife is of opinion that all is not 'as it should be.' And, indeed, it is mighty strange to me, if Miss be so 'notable a penitent' (as is represented) and if she have such an 'aversion' to Mr. Lovelace, that she will admit his 'privado' into 'her retirements,' and see 'no other company.'

I understand, from Mrs. Smith, that Mr. Hickman was to see her some time ago, from Miss Howe; and I am told, by 'another' hand, (you see, Sir, how diligent I have been to execute the 'commissions' you gave me,) that he had no 'extraordinary opinion' of this Belford at first; though they were seen together one morning by the opposite neighbour, at 'breakfast': and another time this Belford was observed to 'watch' Mr. Hickman's coming from her; so that, as it should seem, he was mighty zealous to 'ingratiate' himself with Mr. Hickman; no doubt to engage him to make a 'favourable report to Miss Howe' of the 'intimacy' he was admitted into by her unhappy friend; who ('as she is very ill') may 'mean no harm' in allowing his visits, (for he, it seemeth, brought to her, or recommended, at least, the doctor and apothecary that attend her:) but I think (upon the whole) 'it looketh not well.'

I am sorry, Sir, I cannot give you a better account of the young lady's 'prudence.' But, what shall we say?

'Uvaque conspectâ livorem ducit ab uvâ,'

as Juvenal observeth.

One thing I am afraid of; which is, that Miss may be under 'necessities'; and that this Belford (who, as Mrs. Smith owns, hath 'offered her money,' which she, 'at the time,' refused) may find an opportunity to 'take advantage' of those 'necessities': and it is well observed by that poet, that

'Ægrè formosam poteris servare puellam: Nunc prece, nunc pretio, forma petita ruit.'

And this Belford (who is a 'bold man,' and hath, as they say, the 'look' of one) may make good that of Horace, (with whose writings you are so well acquainted; nobody better;)

'Audax omnia perpeti,
Gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas.'

Forgive me, Sir, for what I am going to write: but if you could prevail upon the rest of your family to join in the scheme which 'you,' and her 'virtuous sister,' Miss Arabella, and the Archdeacon, and I, once talked of, (which is to persuade the unhappy young lady to go, in some 'creditable' manner, to some one of the foreign colonies,) it might not save only her 'own credit' and 'reputation,' but the 'reputation' and 'credit' of all her 'family,' and a great deal of 'vexation' moreover. For it is my humble opinion, that you will hardly (any of you) enjoy yourselves while this ('once' innocent) young lady is in the way of being so frequently heard of by you: and this would put her 'out of the way' both of 'this Belford' and of 'that Lovelace,' and it might, peradventure, prevent as much 'evil' as 'scandal.'

You will forgive me, Sir, for this my 'plainness.' Ovid pleadeth for me,

'----Adulator nullus amicus erit.'

And I have no view but that of approving myself a 'zealous well-wisher' to 'all' your worthy family, (whereto I owe a great number of obligations,) and very particularly, Sir,

Your obliged and humble servant,
ELIAS BRAND.

P.S. I shall give you 'farther hints' when I come down, (which will be in a few days;) and who my 'informants' were; but by 'these' you will see, that I have been very assiduous (for the time) in the task you set me upon.

The 'length' of my letter you will excuse: for I need not tell you, Sir, what 'narrative,' 'complex,' and 'conversation' letters (such a one as 'mine') require. Every one to his 'talent.' 'Letter-writing' is mine. I will be bold to say; and that my 'correspondence' was much coveted in the university, on that account, by 'tyros,' and by 'sophs,' when I was hardly a 'soph' myself. But this I should not have taken upon myself to mention, but only in defence of the 'length' of my letter; for nobody writeth 'shorter' or 'pithier,' when the subject requireth 'common forms' only--but, in apologizing for my 'prolixity,' I am 'adding' to the 'fault,' (if it were one, which, however, I cannot think it to be, the 'subject' considered: but this I have said before in other words:) so, Sir, if you will excuse my 'post-script,' I am sure you will not find fault with my 'letter.'

One word more as to a matter of 'erudition,' which you greatly love to hear me 'start' and 'dwell upon.' Dr. Lewen once, in 'your' presence, (as you, 'my good patron,' cannot but remember,) in a 'smartish' kind of debate between 'him' and 'me,' took upon him to censure the 'paranthetical' style, as I call it. He was a very learned and judicious man, to be sure, and an ornament to 'our function': but yet I must needs say, that it is a style which I greatly like; and the good Doctor was then past his 'youth,' and that time of life, of consequence, when a 'fertile imagination,' and a 'rich fancy,' pour in ideas so fast upon a writer, that parentheses are often wanted (and that for the sake of 'brevity,' as well as 'perspicuity') to save the reader the trouble of reading a passage 'more than once.' Every man to his talent, (as I said before.) We are all so apt to set up our 'natural biasses' for 'general standards,' that I wondered 'the less' at the worthy Doctor's 'stiffness' on this occasion. He 'smiled at me,' you may remember, Sir--and, whether I was right or not, I am sure I 'smiled at him.' And 'you,' my 'worthy patron,' (as I had the satisfaction to observe,) seemed to be of 'my party.' But was it not strange, that the 'old gentleman' and 'I' should so widely differ, when the 'end' with 'both' (that is to say, 'perspicuity' or 'clearness,') was the same?--But what shall we say?--

'Errare est hominis, sed non persistere.'

I think I have nothing to add until I have the honour of attending you in 'person'; but I am, (as above,) &c. &c. &c.

It was lucky enough that our two servants met at Hannah's,* which gave them so good an opportunity of exchanging their letters time enough for each to return to his master early in the day.

* The Windmill, near Slough.

Thou dost well to boast of thy capacity for managing servants, and to set up for correcting our poets in their characters of this class of people,* when, like a madman, thou canst beat their teeth out, and attempt to shoot them through the head, for not bringing to thee what they had no power to obtain.

* See Letter XX. of this volume.

You well observe* that you would have made a thorough-paced lawyer. The whole of the conversation-piece between you and the Colonel affords a convincing proof that there is a black and a white side to every cause: But what must the conscience of a partial whitener of his own cause, or blackener of another's, tell him, while he is throwing dust in the eyes of his judges, and all the time knows his own guilt?