Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

your last letter. And if I can possibly have no advantage in a contention with you, if the justice of my cause affords me not any (as you have no opinion it will), it behoves you, methinks, to show to an impartial moderator that I am wrong, and you not so.

If this be accepted, there is a necessity for its being carried on by the pen; the facts being stated, and agreed upon by both; and the decision to be given, according to the force of the arguments each shall produce in support of their side of the question: for give me leave to say, I know too well the manliness of your temper, to offer at a personal debate with you.

If it be not accepted, I shall conclude, that you cannot defend your conduct towards me; and shall only beg of you, that, for the future, you will treat me with the respect due to a sister from a brother who would be thought as polite as learned.

And now, Sir, if I have seemed to show some spirit, not foreign to the relation I have the honour to be to you, and to my sister; and which may be deemed not altogether of a piece with that part of my character which once, it seems, gained me everyone’s love; be pleased to consider to whom, and to what it is owing; and that this part of that character was not dispensed with, till it subjected me to that scorn, and to those insults, which a brother, who has been so tenacious of an independence voluntarily given up by me, and who has appeared so exalted upon it, ought not to have shown to anybody, much less to a weak and defenceless sister; who is, notwithstanding, an affectionate and respectful one, and would be glad to show herself to be so upon all future occasions; as she has in every action of her past life, although of late she has met with such unkind returns.

Cl. Harlowe

See, my dear, the force, and volubility, as I may say, of passion; for the letter I send you is my first draught, struck off without a blot or erasure.

Friday, Three o’clock

As soon as I had transcribed it, I sent it down to my brother by Mrs. Betty.

The wench came up soon after, all aghast, with a Laud, Miss! What have you done?⁠—What have you written? For you have set them all in a joyful uproar!

My sister is but this moment gone from me. She came up all in a flame; which obliged me abruptly to lay down my pen: she ran to me⁠—

O Spirit! said she; tapping my neck a little too hard. And is it come to this at last⁠—!

Do you beat me, Bella?

Do you call this beating you? only tapping your shoulder thus, said she; tapping again more gently⁠—This is what we expected it would come to⁠—You want to be independent⁠—My father has lived too long for you⁠—!

I was going to speak with vehemence; but she put her handkerchief before my mouth, very rudely⁠—You have done enough with your pen, mean listener, as you are!⁠—But know that neither your independent scheme, nor any of your visiting ones, will be granted you. Take your course, perverse one! Call in your rake to help you to an independence upon your parents, and a dependence upon him!⁠—Do so!⁠—Prepare this moment⁠—resolve what you will take with you⁠—tomorrow you go⁠—depend upon it tomorrow you go!⁠—No longer shall you stay here, watching and creeping about to hearken to what people say⁠—’Tis determined, child!⁠—You go tomorrow⁠—my brother would have come up to tell you so; but I persuaded him to the contrary⁠—for I know not what had become of you, if he had⁠—Such a letter! such an insolent, such a conceited challenger!⁠—O thou vain creature! But prepare yourself, I say⁠—tomorrow you go⁠—my brother will accept of your bold challenge; but it must be personal; and at my uncle Antony’s⁠—or perhaps at Mr. Solmes’s⁠—

Thus she ran on, almost foaming with passion; till, quite out of patience, I said, No more of your violence, Bella⁠—Had I known in what way you designed to come up, you should not have found my chamber-door open⁠—talk to your servant in this manner. Unlike you, as I bless God I am, I am nevertheless your sister⁠—and let me tell you, that I won’t go tomorrow, nor next day, nor next day to that⁠—except I am dragged away by violence.

What! not if your father or mother command it⁠—Girl? said she, intending another word, by her pause and manner before it came out.

Let it come to that, Bella; then I shall know what to say. But it shall be from their own mouths, if I do⁠—not from yours, nor you Betty’s⁠—And say another word to me, in this manner, and be the consequence what it may, I will force myself into their presence; and demand what I have done to be used thus!

Come along, Child! Come along, Meekness⁠—taking my hand, and leading me towards the door⁠—Demand it of them now⁠—you’ll find both your despised parents together!⁠—What! does your heart fail you?⁠—for I resisted, being thus insolently offered to be led, and pulled my hand from her.

I want not to be led, said I; and since I can plead your invitation, I will go: and was posting to the stairs accordingly in my passion⁠—but she got between me and the door, and shut it⁠—

Let me first, Bold one, said she, apprise them of your visit⁠—for your own sake let me⁠—for my brother is with them. But yet opening it again, seeing me shrink back⁠—Go, if you will!⁠—Why don’t you go?⁠—Why don’t you go, Miss?⁠—following me to my closet, whither I retired, with my heart full, and pulled the sash-door after me; and could no longer hold in my tears.

Nor would I answer one word to her repeated aggravations, nor to her demands upon me to open my door (for the key was on the inside); nor