TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. SAT. MARCH 11.

Allow me, my honoured second Papa, as in my happy days you taught me

to call you, to implore your interest with my Papa, to engage him to

dispense with a command, which, if insisted upon, will deprive me of my

free-will, and make me miserable for my whole life.

For my whole life! let me repeat: Is that a small point, my dear Uncle,

to give up? Am not I to live with the man? Is any body else? Shall I not

therefore be allowed to judge for myself, whether I can, or cannot, live

happily with him?

Should it be ever so unhappily, will it be prudence to complain or

appeal? If it were, to whom could I appeal with effect against a

husband? And would not the invincible and avowed dislike I have for him

at setting out, seem to justify any ill usage from him, in that state,

were I to be ever so observant of him? And if I were to be at all

observant of him, it must be from fear, not love.

Once more, let me repeat, That this is not a small point to give up:

and that it is for life. Why, I pray you, good Sir, should I be made

miserable for life? Why should I be deprived of all comfort, but that

which the hope that it would be a very short one, would afford me?

Marriage is a very solemn engagement, enough to make a young creature's

heart ache, with the best prospects, when she thinks seriously of

it!--To be given up to a strange man; to be engrafted into a strange

family; to give up her very name, as a mark of her becoming his absolute

and dependent property; to be obliged to prefer this strange man to

father, mother--to every body:--and his humours to all her own--or to

contend, perhaps, in breach of avowed duty, for every innocent

instance of free-will. To go no where; to make acquaintance; to give up

acquaintance; to renounce even the strictest friendships, perhaps;

all at his pleasure, whether she thinks it reasonable to do so or not.

Surely, Sir, a young creature ought not to be obliged to make all these

sacrifices but for such a man as she can love. If she be, how sad must

be the case! How miserable the life, if it can be called life!

I wish I could obey you all. What a pleasure would it be to me, if I

could!--Marry first, and love will come after, was said by one of my

dearest friends! But this is a shocking assertion. A thousand thing may

happen to make that state but barely tolerable, where it is entered into

with mutual affections: What must it then be, where the husband can have

no confidence in the love of his wife: but has reason rather to question

it, from the preference he himself believes she would have given to

somebody else, had she had her own option? What doubts, what jealousies,

what want of tenderness, what unfavourable prepossessions, will there

be, in a matrimony thus circumstanced! How will every look, every

action, even the most innocent, be liable to misconstruction!--While,

on the other hand, an indifference, a carelessness to oblige, may take

place; and fear only can constrain even an appearance of what ought to

be the effect of undisguised love!

Think seriously of these things, dear, good Sir, and represent them to

my father in that strong light which the subject will bear; but in which

my sex, and my tender years and inexperience, will not permit me to

paint it; and use your powerful interest, that your poor niece may not

be consigned to a misery so durable.

I offered to engage not to marry at all, if that condition may be

accepted. What a disgrace is it to me to be thus sequestered from

company, thus banished my papa's and mamma's presence; thus slighted and

deserted by you, Sir, and my other kind uncle! And to be hindered from

attending at that public worship, which, were I out of the way of my

duty, would be most likely to reduce me into the right path again!--Is

this the way, Sir; can this be thought to be the way to be taken with

a free and open spirit? May not this strange method rather harden than

convince? I cannot bear to live in disgrace thus. The very servants so

lately permitted to be under my own direction, hardly daring to speak to

me; my own servant discarded with high marks of undeserved suspicion and

displeasure, and my sister's maid set over me.

The matter may be too far pushed.--Indeed it may.--And then, perhaps,

every one will be sorry for their parts in it.

May I be permitted to mention an expedient?--'If I am to be

watched, banished, and confined; suppose, Sir, it were to be at your

house?'--Then the neighbouring gentry will the less wonder, that the

person of whom they used to think so favourably, appear not at church

here; and that she received not their visits.

I hope there can be no objection to this. You used to love to have

me with you, Sir, when all went happily with me: And will you not now

permit me, in my troubles, the favour of your house, till all this

displeasure is overblown?--Upon my word, Sir, I will not stir out of

doors, if you require the contrary of me: nor will I see any body, but

whom you will allow me to see; provided Mr. Solmes be not brought to

persecute me there.

Procure, then, this favour for me; if you cannot procure the still

greater, that of a happy reconciliation (which nevertheless I presume to

hope for, if you will be so good as to plead for me); and you will then

add to those favours and to that indulgence, which have bound me, and

will for ever bind me to be

Your dutiful and obliged niece, CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 · 第 133 / 196 题