LETTER XVI
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE [HER PRECEDING NOT AT THAT TIMERECEIVED.] FRIDAY, MARCH 3.
O my dear friend, I have had a sad conflict! Trial upon trial;conference upon conference!--But what law, what ceremony, can give aman a right to a heart which abhors him more than it does any livingcreature?
I hope my mother will be able to prevail for me.--But I will recount itall, though I sit up the whole night to do it; for I have a vast deal towrite, and will be as minute as you wish me to be.
I concluded my last in a fright. It was occasioned by a conversationthat passed between my mother and my aunt, part of which Hannahoverheard. I need not give you the particulars; since what I have torelate to you from different conversations that have passed between mymother and me, in the space of a very few hours, will include them all.I will begin then.
I went down this morning when breakfast was ready with a very uneasyheart, from what Hannah had informed me of yesterday afternoon; wishingfor an opportunity, however, to appeal to my mother, in hopes to engageher interest in my behalf, and purposing to try to find one when sheretired to her own apartment after breakfast: but, unluckily, there wasthe odious Solmes, sitting asquat between my mother and sister, with somuch assurance in his looks!--But you know, my dear, that those we lovenot, cannot do any thing to please us.
Had the wretch kept his seat, it might have been well enough: but thebend and broad-shouldered creature must needs rise, and stalk towards achair, which was just by that which was set for me.
I removed it to a distance, as if to make way to my own: and down I sat,abruptly I believe; what I had heard all in my head.
But this was not enough to daunt him. The man is a very confident, he isa very bold, staring man!--Indeed, my dear, the man is very confident.
He took the removed chair, and drew it so near mine, squatting in itwith his ugly weight, that he pressed upon my hoop.--I was so offended(all I had heard, as I said, in my head) that I removed to anotherchair. I own I had too little command of myself. It gave my brotherand sister too much advantage. I day say they took it. But I did itinvoluntarily, I think. I could not help it.--I knew not what I did.
I saw that my father was excessively displeased. When angry, no man'scountenance ever shews it so much as my father's. Clarissa Harlowe! saidhe with a big voice--and there he stopped. Sir! said I, trembling andcourtesying (for I had not then sat down again); and put my chair nearerthe wretch, and sat down--my face, as I could feel, all in a glow.
Make tea, child, said my kind mamma; sit by me, love, and make tea.
I removed with pleasure to the seat the man had quitted; and beingthus indulgently put into employment, soon recovered myself; and in thecourse of the breakfasting officiously asked two or three questionsof Mr. Solmes, which I would not have done, but to make up with myfather.--Proud spirits may be brought to! Whisperingly spoke my sisterto me, over her shoulder, with an air of triumph and scorn: but I didnot mind her.
My mother was all kindness and condescension. I asked her once, if shewere pleased with the tea? She said, softly, (and again called me dear,)she was pleased with all I did. I was very proud of this encouraginggoodness: and all blew over, as I hoped, between my father and me; forhe also spoke kindly to me two or three times.
Small accidents these, my dear, to trouble you with; only as they leadto greater, as you shall hear.
Before the usual breakfast-time was over, my father withdrew with mymother, telling her he wanted to speak with her. Then my sister and nextmy aunt (who was with us) dropt away.
My brother gave himself some airs of insult, which I understood wellenough; but which Mr. Solmes could make nothing of: and at last he arosefrom his seat--Sister, said he, I have a curiosity to shew you. I willfetch it. And away he went shutting the door close after him.
I saw what all this was for. I arose; the man hemming up for a speech,rising, and beginning to set his splay-feet [indeed, my dear, the man inall his ways is hateful to me] in an approaching posture.--I willsave my brother the trouble of bringing to me his curiosity, said I. Icourtesied--Your servant, sir--The man cried, Madam, Madam, twice, andlooked like a fool.--But away I went--to find my brother, to save myword.--But my brother, indifferent as the weather was, was gone towalk in the garden with my sister. A plain case, that he had left hiscuriosity with me, and designed to shew me no other.
I had but just got into my own apartment, and began to think of sendingHannah to beg an audience of my mother (the more encouraged by hercondescending goodness at breakfast) when Shorey, her woman, brought meher commands to attend me in her closet.
My father, Hannah told me, was just gone out of it with a positive angrycountenance. Then I as much dreaded the audience as I had wished for itbefore.
I went down however; but, apprehending the subject she intended totalk to me upon, approached her trembling, and my heart in visiblepalpitations.
She saw my concern. Holding out her kind arms, as she sat, Come kissme, my dear, said she, with a smile like a sun-beam breaking throughthe cloud that overshadowed her naturally benign aspect--Why flutters myjewel so?
This preparative sweetness, with her goodness just before, confirmed myapprehensions. My mother saw the bitter pill wanted gilding.
O my Mamma! was all I could say; and I clasped my arms round her neck,and my face sunk into her bosom.
My child! my child! restrain, said she, your powers of moving! I darenot else trust myself with you.--And my tears trickled down her bosom,as hers bedewed my neck.
O the words of kindness, all to be expressed in vain, that flowed fromher lips!
Lift up your sweet face, my best child, my own Clarissa Harlowe!--O mydaughter, best beloved of my heart, lift up a face so ever amiable tome!--Why these sobs?--Is an apprehended duty so affecting a thing, thatbefore I can speak--But I am glad, my love, you can guess at what I haveto say to you. I am spared the pains of breaking to you what was a taskupon me reluctantly enough undertaken to break to you. Then rising, shedrew a chair near her own, and made me sit down by her, overwhelmed as Iwas with tears of apprehension of what she had to say, and of gratitudefor her truly maternal goodness to me--sobs still my only language.
And drawing her chair still nearer to mine, she put her arms round myneck, and my glowing cheek wet with my tears, close to her own: Let metalk to you, my child. Since silence is your choice, hearken to me, andbe silent.
You know, my dear, what I every day forego, and undergo, for the sake ofpeace. Your papa is a very good man, and means well; but he will notbe controuled; nor yet persuaded. You have sometimes seemed to pity me,that I am obliged to give up every point. Poor man! his reputation theless for it; mine the greater: yet would I not have this credit, ifI could help it, at so dear a rate to him and to myself. You are adutiful, a prudent, and a wise child, she was pleased to say, in hope,no doubt, to make me so: you would not add, I am sure, to my trouble:you would not wilfully break that peace which costs your mother so muchto preserve. Obedience is better than sacrifice. O my Clary Harlowe,rejoice my heart, by telling me that I have apprehended too much!--I seeyour concern! I see your perplexity! I see your conflict! [loosingher arm, and rising, not willing I should see how much she herselfwas affected]. I will leave you a moment.--Answer me not--[for I wasessaying to speak, and had, as soon as she took her dear cheek frommine, dropt down on my knees, my hands clasped, and lifted up ina supplicating manner]--I am not prepared for your irresistibleexpostulation, she was pleased to say. I will leave you to recollection:and I charge you, on my blessing, that all this my truly maternaltenderness be not thrown away upon you.
And then she withdrew into the next apartment; wiping her eyes as shewent from me; as mine overflowed; my heart taking in the whole compassof her meaning.
She soon returned, having recovered more steadiness.
Still on my knees, I had thrown my face across the chair she had sat in.
Look up to me, my Clary Harlowe--No sullenness, I hope!
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p; No, indeed, my ever-to-be-revered Mamma.--And I arose. I bent my knee.
She raised me. No kneeling to me, but with knees of duty and compliance.Your heart, not your knees, must bend. It is absolutely determined.Prepare yourself therefore to receive your father, when he visits youby-and-by, as he would wish to receive you. But on this one quarter ofan hour depends the peace of my future life, the satisfaction of all thefamily, and your own security from a man of violence: and I charge youbesides, on my blessing, that you think of being Mrs. Solmes.
There went the dagger to my heart, and down I sunk: and when Irecovered, found myself in the arms of my Hannah, my sister's Bettyholding open my reluctantly-opened palm, my laces cut, my linen scentedwith hartshorn; and my mother gone. Had I been less kindly treated, thehated name still forborne to be mentioned, or mentioned with a littlemore preparation and reserve, I had stood the horrid sound with lessvisible emotion--But to be bid, on the blessing of a mother so dearlybeloved, so truly reverenced, to think of being MRS. SOLMES--what adenunciation was that!
Shorey came in with a message (delivered in her solemn way): Your mamma,Miss, is concerned for your disorder: she expects you down again in anhour; and bid me say, that she then hopes every thing from your duty.
I made no reply; for what could I say? And leaning upon my Hannah's arm,withdrew to my own apartment. There you will guess how the greatest partof the hour was employed.
Within that time, my mother came up to me.
I love, she was pleased to say, to come into this apartment.--Noemotions, child! No flutters!--Am I not your mother?--Do not discomposeme by discomposing yourself! Do not occasion me uneasiness, when Iwould give you nothing but pleasure. Come, my dear, we will go into yourcloset.
She took my hand, led the way, and made me sit down by her: and aftershe had inquired how I did, she began in a strain as if she supposed Ihad made use of the intervening space to overcome all my objections.
She was pleased to tell me, that my father and she, in order to spare mynatural modesty, had taken the whole affair upon themselves--
Hear me out; and then speak.--He is not indeed every thing I wish him tobe: but he is a man of probity, and has no vices--
No vices, Madam--!
Hear me out, child.--You have not behaved much amiss to him: we haveseen with pleasure that you have not--
O Madam, must I not now speak!
I shall have done presently.--A young creature of your virtuous andpious turn, she was pleased to say, cannot surely love a profligate: youlove your brother too well, to wish to marry one who had like to havekilled him, and who threatened your uncles, and defies us all. You havehad your own way six or seven times: we want to secure you against a manso vile. Tell me (I have a right to know) whether you prefer this manto all others?--Yet God forbid that I should know you do; for sucha declaration would make us all miserable. Yet tell me, are youraffections engaged to this man?
I knew not what the inference would be, if I said they were not.
You hesitate--You answer me not--You cannot answer me.--Rising--Nevermore will I look upon you with an eye of favour--
O Madam, Madam! Kill me not with your displeasure--I would not, I neednot, hesitate one moment, did I not dread the inference, if I answeryou as you wish.--Yet be that inference what it will, your threateneddispleasure will make me speak. And I declare to you, that I know not myown heart, if it not be absolutely free. And pray, let me ask my dearestMamma, in what has my conduct been faulty, that, like a giddy creature,I must be forced to marry, to save me from--From what? Let me beseechyou, Madam, to be the guardian of my reputation! Let not your Clarissabe precipitated into a state she wishes not to enter into with any man!And this upon a supposition that otherwise she shall marry herself, anddisgrace her whole family.
Well then, Clary [passing over the force of my plea] if your heart befree--
O my beloved Mamma, let the usual generosity of your dear heart operatein my favour. Urge not upon me the inference that made me hesitate.
I won't be interrupted, Clary--You have seen in my behaviour to you,on this occasion, a truly maternal tenderness; you have observed thatI have undertaken the task with some reluctance, because the man is notevery thing; and because I know you carry your notions of perfection ina man too high--
Dearest Madam, this one time excuse me!--Is there then any danger that Ishould be guilty of an imprudent thing for the man's sake you hint at?
Again interrupted!--Am I to be questioned, and argued with? You knowthis won't do somewhere else. You know it won't. What reason then,ungenerous girl, can you have for arguing with me thus, but because youthink from my indulgence to you, you may?
What can I say? What can I do? What must that cause be that will notbear being argued upon?
Again! Clary Harlowe!
Dearest Madam, forgive me: it was always my pride and my pleasure toobey you. But look upon that man--see but the disagreeableness of hisperson--
Now, Clary, do I see whose person you have in your eye!--Now is Mr.Solmes, I see, but comparatively disagreeable; disagreeable only asanother man has a much more specious person
But, Madam, are not his manners equally so?--Is not his person the truerepresentative of his mind?--That other man is not, shall not be, anything to me, release me but from this one man, whom my heart, unbidden,resists.
Condition thus with your father. Will he bear, do you think, to be thusdialogued with? Have I not conjured you, as you value my peace--Whatis it that I do not give up?--This very task, because I apprehended youwould not be easily persuaded, is a task indeed upon me. And will yougive up nothing? Have you not refused as many as have been offered toyou? If you would not have us guess for whom, comply; for comply youmust, or be looked upon as in a state of defiance with your wholefamily.
And saying this, she arose and went from me. But at the chamber-doorstopt; and turned back: I will not say below in what a disposition Ileave you. Consider of every thing. The matter is resolved upon. As youvalue your father's blessing and mine, and the satisfaction of all thefamily, resolve to comply. I will leave you for a few moments. I willcome up to you again. See that I find you as I wish to find you; andsince your heart is free, let your duty govern it.
In about half an hour, my mother returned. She found me in tears.She took my hand: It is my part evermore, said she, to be of theacknowledging side. I believe I have needlessly exposed myself to youropposition, by the method I have taken with you. I first began as if Iexpected a denial, and by my indulgence brought it upon myself.
Do not, my dearest Mamma! do not say so!
Were the occasion for this debate, proceeded she, to have risen frommyself; were it in my power to dispense with your compliance; you toowell know what you can do with me.
Would any body, my dear Miss Howe, wish to marry, who sees a wife ofsuch a temper, and blessed with such an understanding as my mother isnoted for, not only deprived of all power, but obliged to be even activein bringing to bear a point of high importance, which she thinks oughtnot to be insisted upon?
When I came to you a second time, proceeded she, knowing that youropposition would avail you nothing, I refused to hear your reasons: andin this I was wrong too, because a young creature who loves to reason,and used to love to be convinced by reason, ought to have all herobjections heard: I now therefore, this third time, see you; and amcome resolved to hear all you have to say: and let me, my dear, by mypatience engage your gratitude; your generosity, I will call it, becauseit is to you I speak, who used to have a mind wholly generous.--Let me,if your heart be really free, let me see what it will induce you to doto oblige me: and so as you permit your usual discretion to govern you,I will hear all you have to say; but with this intimation, that say whatyou will, it will be of no avail elsewhere.
What a dreadful saying is that! But could I engage your pity, Madam, itwould be somewhat.
You have as much of my pity as of my love. But what is person, Clary,with one of your prudence, and your heart disengaged?
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Should the eye be disgusted, when the heart is to be engaged?--OMadam, who can think of marrying when the heart is shocked at thefirst appearance, and where the disgust must be confirmed by everyconversation afterwards?
This, Clary, is owing to your prepossession. Let me not have causeto regret that noble firmness of mind in so young a creature which Ithought your glory, and which was my boast in your character. In thisinstance it would be obstinacy, and want of duty.--Have you not madeobjections to several--
That was to their minds, to their principles, Madam.--But this man--
Is an honest man, Clary Harlowe. He has a good mind. He is a virtuousman.
He an honest man? His a good mind, Madam? He a virtuous man?--
Nobody denies these qualities.
Can he be an honest man who offers terms that will rob all his ownrelations of their just expectations?--Can his mind be good--
You, Clary Harlowe, for whose sake he offers so much, are the lastperson who should make this observation.
Give me leave to say, Madam, that a person preferring happiness tofortune, as I do; that want not even what I have, and can give up theuse of that, as an instance of duty--
No more, no more of your merits!--You know you will be a gainer by thatcheerful instance of your duty; not a loser. You know you have butcast your bread upon the waters--so no more of that!--For it is notunderstood as a merit by every body, I assure you; though I think it ahigh one; and so did your father and uncles at the time--
At the time, Madam!--How unworthily do my brother and sister, who areafraid that the favour I was so lately in--
I hear nothing against your brother and sister--What family feuds have Iin prospect, at a time when I hoped to have most comfort from you all!
God bless my brother and sister in all their worthy views! You shallhave no family feuds if I can prevent them. You yourself, Madam, shalltell me what I shall bear from them, and I will bear it: but let myactions, not their misrepresentations (as I am sure by the disgracefulprohibitions I have met with has been the case) speak for me.
Just then, up came my father, with a sternness in his looks that made metremble.--He took two or three turns about my chamber, though pained byhis gout; and then said to my mother, who was silent as soon as she sawhim--
My dear, you are long absent.--Dinner is near ready. What you had tosay, lay in a very little compass. Surely, you have nothing to do butto declare your will, and my will--But perhaps you may be talking of thepreparations--Let us have you soon down--Your daughter in your hand, ifworthy of the name.
And down he went, casting his eye upon me with a look so stern, thatI was unable to say one word to him, or even for a few minutes to mymother.
Was not this very intimidating, my dear?
My mother, seeing my concern, seemed to pity me. She called me her goodchild, and kissed me; and told me that my father should not know I hadmade such opposition. He has kindly furnished us with an excuse forbeing so long together, said she.--Come, my dear--dinner will be upontable presently--Shall we go down?--And took my hand.
This made me start: What, Madam, go down to let it be supposed we weretalking of preparations!--O my beloved Mamma, command me not down uponsuch a supposition.
You see, child, that to stay longer together, will be owning that youare debating about an absolute duty; and that will not be borne. Did notyour father himself some days ago tell you, he would be obeyed? I will athird time leave you. I must say something by way of excuse for you:and that you desire not to go down to dinner--that your modesty on theoccasion--
O Madam! say not my modesty on such an occasion: for that will be togive hope--
And design you not to give hope?--Perverse girl!--Rising and flingingfrom me; take more time for consideration!--Since it is necessary, takemore time--and when I see you next, let me know what blame I have tocast upon myself, or to bear from your father, for my indulgence to you.
She made, however, a little stop at the chamber-door; and seemed toexpect that I would have besought her to make the gentlest constructionfor me; for, hesitating, she was pleased to say, I suppose you would nothave me make a report--
O Madam, interrupted I, whose favour can I hope for if I lose mymamma's?
To have desired a favourable report, you know, my dear, would have beenqualifying upon a point that I was too much determined upon, to giveroom for any of my friends to think I have the least hesitation aboutit. And so my mother went down stairs.
I will deposit thus far; and, as I know you will not think me too minutein the relation of particulars so very interesting to one you honourwith your love, proceed in the same way. As matters stand, I don't careto have papers, so freely written, about me.
Pray let Robert call every day, if you can spare him, whether I have anything ready or not.
I should be glad you would not send him empty handed. What a generositywill it be in you, to write as frequently from friendship, as I amforced to do from misfortune! The letters being taken away will be anassurance that you have them. As I shall write and deposit as I haveopportunity, the formality of super and sub-scription will be excused.For I need not say how much I am
Your sincere and ever affectionate, CL. HARLOWE.