Anna is a feminine given name, the Latin form of the Greek: Ἄννα and the Hebrew name Hannah(Hebrew: חַנָּה, romanized: Ḥannāh), meaning “favour” or “grace”. – Wiki
I think you told me, sir, you never saw Miss Howe. She is a fine graceful young lady. A fixed melancholy on her whole aspect overclouded a vivacity and fire, which nevertheless darted now and then through the awful gloom. I shall ever respect her for her love to my dear cousin.
Never did I think, said she as she gave me her hand, to enter more these doors: but, living or dead, my Clarissa brings me after her anywhither!
She entered with me the little parlour. The moment she saw the coffin, she withdrew her hand from mine, and with impatience pushed aside the lid. As impatiently she removed the face-cloth. In a wild air, she clasped her uplifted hands together; and now looked upon the corpse, now up to Heaven as if appealing her woes to that. Her bosom heaved and fluttered discernible through her handkerchief, and at last she broke silence: Oh sir!—see you not here!—see you there-the glory of her sex?-thus by the most villainous of yours – thus – laid low! Ah, my blessed friend, said she! my sweet companion!— Anna Howe before the coffin at Harlowe Place, from Clarissa.
Women will have, whether by kin or soul, their sisters. Our Lady upon the Annunciation sought for directly her dear St. Elizabeth. Contrarily, that Hillary Clinton was described by the Shield Maidens during her Presidential run as “a woman but not a sister” must have stung deeply and struck home that cold poison pump of a heart. Clarissa’s glorious Anna Howe is among the first, and inarguably the best, of art’s saucy female friends. The feminine sauce-box soulmate will be portrayed throughout the subsequent three centuries since the publication of Clarissa, but none reach the grandeur of Miss Anna. Perhaps the highest compliment to Anna is that the perfidious Lovelace knows her to be his most dangerous foe, for Anna’s ferocious love for her dear Clarissa will not be brooked. At the fateful ball near the novel’s end, Lovelace and Anna meet for the first time since the totality of his evil has been revealed. The scene is the most beautiful, near allegory, of virtue’s consideration of the demonic. Bunyan could never. Miss Howe wishes nothing to do with Sir Lovelace, and she seats herself far removed in the corner to obviate his advances. Terrifyingly he suddenly appears – unseen by Anna – behind her seat, bending to her bejeweled ear while whispering, “I ask only 15 minutes with you.” Much may happen in 15 minutes, and Miss Howe isn’t here to play his reckless game. She is momentarily unnerved until she remembers her dear Clarissa. Virtue may flee until virtue must fight. Anna stands, directing herself to the exit. Lovelace attempts to detain her as she reaches the door to leave the demon to his admirers. Softly grasping her arm: “I ask, again, only 15 minutes.” Anna snapping open her fan, “accidentally” dislodging Mr. Lovelace’s impeccable wig in a mushroom cloud of hair powder before an entranced gaped-mouth ballroom is the supreme crushing of the serpent’s head in all of literature. It is also very wise advice for us when our own snakes touch our arm, imploring “just 15 minutes.” May God grant us all our own Miss Howe. And, as Clarissa most certainly was, may we be worthy of her.
Wood Faileth 