Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1

Home > Fiction > Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 > Page 39
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 Page 39

by Samuel Richardson


  LETTER XXXII

  MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, MARCH 14.

  I now send you copies of my letters to my uncles: with their answers. Bepleased to return the latter by the first deposit. I leave them for youto make remarks upon. I shall make none.

  TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. SAT. MARCH 11.

  Allow me, my honoured second Papa, as in my happy days you taught meto call you, to implore your interest with my Papa, to engage him todispense with a command, which, if insisted upon, will deprive me of myfree-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 nottherefore be allowed to judge for myself, whether I can, or cannot, livehappily with him?

  Should it be ever so unhappily, will it be prudence to complain orappeal? If it were, to whom could I appeal with effect against ahusband? And would not the invincible and avowed dislike I have for himat 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 allobservant 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 mademiserable for life? Why should I be deprived of all comfort, but thatwhich 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'sheart ache, with the best prospects, when she thinks seriously ofit!--To be given up to a strange man; to be engrafted into a strangefamily; to give up her very name, as a mark of her becoming his absoluteand dependent property; to be obliged to prefer this strange man tofather, mother--to every body:--and his humours to all her own--or tocontend, perhaps, in breach of avowed duty, for every innocentinstance of free-will. To go no where; to make acquaintance; to give upacquaintance; 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 thesesacrifices but for such a man as she can love. If she be, how sad mustbe 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 Icould!--Marry first, and love will come after, was said by one of mydearest friends! But this is a shocking assertion. A thousand thing mayhappen to make that state but barely tolerable, where it is entered intowith mutual affections: What must it then be, where the husband can haveno confidence in the love of his wife: but has reason rather to questionit, from the preference he himself believes she would have given tosomebody else, had she had her own option? What doubts, what jealousies,what want of tenderness, what unfavourable prepossessions, will therebe, in a matrimony thus circumstanced! How will every look, everyaction, even the most innocent, be liable to misconstruction!--While,on the other hand, an indifference, a carelessness to oblige, may takeplace; and fear only can constrain even an appearance of what ought tobe the effect of undisguised love!

  Think seriously of these things, dear, good Sir, and represent them tomy father in that strong light which the subject will bear; but in whichmy sex, and my tender years and inexperience, will not permit me topaint it; and use your powerful interest, that your poor niece may notbe consigned to a misery so durable.

  I offered to engage not to marry at all, if that condition may beaccepted. What a disgrace is it to me to be thus sequestered fromcompany, thus banished my papa's and mamma's presence; thus slighted anddeserted by you, Sir, and my other kind uncle! And to be hindered fromattending at that public worship, which, were I out of the way of myduty, would be most likely to reduce me into the right path again!--Isthis the way, Sir; can this be thought to be the way to be taken witha free and open spirit? May not this strange method rather harden thanconvince? I cannot bear to live in disgrace thus. The very servants solately permitted to be under my own direction, hardly daring to speak tome; my own servant discarded with high marks of undeserved suspicion anddispleasure, 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 bewatched, banished, and confined; suppose, Sir, it were to be at yourhouse?'--Then the neighbouring gentry will the less wonder, that theperson of whom they used to think so favourably, appear not at churchhere; and that she received not their visits.

  I hope there can be no objection to this. You used to love to haveme with you, Sir, when all went happily with me: And will you not nowpermit me, in my troubles, the favour of your house, till all thisdispleasure is overblown?--Upon my word, Sir, I will not stir out ofdoors, if you require the contrary of me: nor will I see any body, butwhom you will allow me to see; provided Mr. Solmes be not brought topersecute me there.

  Procure, then, this favour for me; if you cannot procure the stillgreater, that of a happy reconciliation (which nevertheless I presume tohope for, if you will be so good as to plead for me); and you will thenadd to those favours and to that indulgence, which have bound me, andwill for ever bind me to be

  Your dutiful and obliged niece, CLARISSA HARLOWE.

  THE ANSWER

  SUNDAY NIGHT.

  MY DEAR NIECE,

  It grieves me to be forced to deny you any thing you ask. Yet it must beso; for unless you can bring your mind to oblige us in this one point,in which our promises and honour were engaged before we believed therecould be so sturdy an opposition, you must never expect to be what youhave been to us all.

  In short, Niece, we are in an embattled phalanx. Your reading makes youa stranger to nothing but what you should be most acquainted with. Soyou will see by that expression, that we are not to be pierced by yourpersuasions, and invincible persistence. We have agreed all to bemoved, or none; and not to comply without one another. So you know yourdestiny; and have nothing to do but to yield to it.

  Let me tell you, the virtue of obedience lies not in obliging when youcan be obliged again. But give up an inclination, and there is somemerit in that.

  As to your expedient; you shall not come to my house, Miss Clary; thoughthis is a prayer I little thought I ever should have denied you: forwere you to keep your word as to seeing nobody but whom we please, yetcan you write to somebody else, and receive letters from him. This wetoo well know you can, and have done--more is the shame and the pity!

  You offer to live single, Miss--we wished you married: but because youmay not have the man your heart is set upon, why, truly, you will havenobody we shall recommend: and as we know, that somehow or other youcorrespond with him, or at least did as long as you could; and as hedefies us all, and would not dare to do so, if he were not sure of youin spite of us all, (which is not a little vexatious to us, you mustthink,) we are resolved to frustrate him, and triumph over him, ratherthan that he should triumph over us: that's one word for all. So expectnot any advocateship from me: I will not plead for you; and that'senough. From

  Your displeased uncle, JOHN HARLOWE.

  P.S. For the rest I refer to my brother Antony.

  ***

  TO ANTONY HARLOWE, ESQ. SATURDAY, MARCH 11.

  HONOURED SIR,

  As you have thought fit to favour Mr. Solmes with your particularrecommendation, and was very earnest in his behalf, ranking him (asyou told me, upon introducing him to me) among your select friends; andexpecting my regards to him accordingly; I beg your patience, whileI offer a few things, out of many that I could offer, to your seriousconsideration, on occasion of his address to me, if I am to use thatword.

  I am charged with prepossession in another person's favour. You will bepleased, Sir, to remember, that till my brother returned from Scotland,that other person was not absolutely discouraged, nor was I forbid toreceive his visits. I believe it will not be pretended, that in birth,education, or personal endowments, a comparison can be made between thetwo.
And only let me ask you, Sir, if the one would have been thought offor me, had he not made such offers, as, upon my word, I think, I oughtnot in justice to accept of, nor he to propose: offers, which if he hadnot made, I dare say, my papa would not have required them of him.

  But the one, it seems, has many faults:--Is the other faultless?--Theprincipal thing objected to Mr. Lovelace (and a very inexcusable one) isthat he is immoral in his loves--Is not the other in his hatreds?--Nay,as I may say, in his loves too (the object only differing) if the loveof money be the root of all evil.

  But, Sir, if I am prepossessed, what has Mr. Solmes to hope for?--Whyshould he persevere? What must I think of the man who would wish me tobe his wife against my inclination?--And is it not a very harsh thingfor my friends to desire to see me married to one I cannot love, whenthey will not be persuaded but that there is one whom I do love?

  Treated as I am, now is the time for me to speak out or never.--Letme review what it is Mr. Solmes depends upon on this occasion. Does hebelieve, that the disgrace which I supper on his account, will givehim a merit with me? Does he think to win my esteem, through my uncles'sternness to me; by my brother's contemptuous usage; by my sister'sunkindness; by being denied to visit, or be visited; and to correspondwith my chosen friend, although a person of unexceptionable honour andprudence, and of my own sex; my servant to be torn from me, and anotherservant set over me; to be confined, like a prisoner, to narrow anddisgraceful limits, in order avowedly to mortify me, and to break myspirit; to be turned out of that family-management which I loved, andhad the greater pleasure in it, because it was an ease, as I thought, tomy mamma, and what my sister chose not; and yet, though time hangs heavyupon my hands, to be so put out of my course, that I have as littleinclination as liberty to pursue any of my choice delights?--Are thesesteps necessary to reduce me to a level so low, as to make me a fit wifefor this man?--Yet these are all he can have to trust to. And ifhis reliance is on these measures, I would have him to know, thathe mistakes meekness and gentleness of disposition for servility andbaseness of heart.

  I beseech you, Sir, to let the natural turn and bent of his mind and mymind be considered: What are his qualities, by which he would hope towin my esteem?--Dear, dear Sir, if I am to be compelled, let it be infavour of a man that can read and write--that can teach me something:For what a husband must that man make, who can do nothing but command;and needs himself the instruction he should be qualified to give?

  I may be conceited, Sir; I may be vain of my little reading; of mywriting; as of late I have more than once been told I am. But, Sir, themore unequal the proposed match, if so: the better opinion I have ofmyself, the worse I must have of him; and the more unfit are we for eachother.

  Indeed, Sir, I must say, I thought my friends had put a higher valueupon me. My brother pretended once, that it was owing to such value,that Mr. Lovelace's address was prohibited.--Can this be; and such a manas Mr. Solmes be intended for me?

  As to his proposed settlements, I hope I shall not incur your greatdispleasure, if I say, what all who know me have reason to think (andsome have upbraided me for), that I despise those motives. Dear, dearSir, what are settlements to one who has as much of her own as shewishes for?--Who has more in her own power, as a single person, thanit is probable she would be permitted to have at her disposal, as awife?--Whose expenses and ambition are moderate; and who, if she hadsuperfluities, would rather dispense them to the necessitous, than laythem by her useless? If then such narrow motives have so little weightwith me for my own benefit, shall the remote and uncertain view offamily-aggrandizements, and that in the person of my brother and hisdescendents, be thought sufficient to influence me?

  Has the behaviour of that brother to me of late, or his considerationfor the family (which had so little weight with him, that he couldchoose to hazard a life so justly precious as an only son's, rather thannot ratify passions which he is above attempting to subdue, and, give meleave to say, has been too much indulged in, either with regard to hisown good, or the peace of any body related to him;) Has his behaviour, Isay, deserved of me in particular, that I should make a sacrifice of mytemporal (and, who knows? of my eternal) happiness, to promote a planformed upon chimerical, at least upon unlikely, contingencies; as I willundertake to demonstrate, if I may be permitted to examine it?

  I am afraid you will condemn my warmth: But does not the occasionrequire it? To the want of a greater degree of earnestness in myopposition, it seems, it is owing, that such advances have been made,as have been made. Then, dear Sir, allow something, I beseech you, for aspirit raised and embittered by disgraces, which (knowing my own heart)I am confident to say, are unmerited.

  But why have I said so much, in answer to the supposed charge ofprepossession, when I have declared to my mamma, as now, Sir, I doto you, that if it be not insisted upon that I shall marry any otherperson, particularly this Mr. Solmes, I will enter into any engagementsnever to have the other, nor any man else, without their consents; thatis to say, without the consents of my father and my mother, and of youmy uncle, and my elder uncle, and my cousin Morden, as he is one of thetrustees for my grandfather's bounty to me?--As to my brother indeed, Icannot say, that his treatment of me has been of late so brotherly,as to entitle him to more than civility from me: and for this, give meleave to add, he would be very much my debtor.

  If I have not been explicit enough in declaring my dislike to Mr. Solmes(that the prepossession which is charged upon me may not be supposed toinfluence me against him) I do absolutely declare, That were there nosuch man as Mr. Lovelace in the world, I would not have Mr. Solmes.It is necessary, in some one of my letters to my dear friends, that Ishould write so clearly as to put this matter out of all doubt: and towhom can I better address myself with an explicitness that can admitof no mistake, than to that uncle who professes the highest regard forplain-dealing and sincerity?

  Let me, for these reasons, be still more particular in some of myexceptions to him.

  Mr. Solmes appears to me (to all the world, indeed) to have a verynarrow mind, and no great capacity: he is coarse and indelicate; asrough in his manners as in his person: he is not only narrow, butcovetous: being possessed of great wealth, he enjoys it not; nor has thespirit to communicate to a distress of any kind. Does not his own sisterlive unhappily, for want of a little of his superfluities? And suffersnot he his aged uncle, the brother of his own mother, to owe tothe generosity of strangers the poor subsistence he picks up fromhalf-a-dozen families?--You know, Sir, my open, free, communicativetemper: how unhappy must I be, circumscribed in his narrow, selfishcircle! out of which being with-held by this diabolical parsimony, hedare no more stir, than a conjurer out of his; nor would let me.

  Such a man, as this, love!--Yes, perhaps he may, my grandfather'sestate; which he has told several persons (and could not resist hintingthe same thing tome, with that sort of pleasure which a low mind takes,when it intimates its own interest as a sufficient motive for it toexpect another's favour) lies so extremely convenient for him, that itwould double the value of a considerable part of his own. That estate,and an alliance which would do credit to his obscurity and narrowness,they make him think he can love, and induce him to believe he does: butat most, he is but a second-place love. Riches were, are, and alwayswill be, his predominant passion. His were left him by a miser, on thisvery account: and I must be obliged to forego all the choice delightsof my life, and be as mean as he, or else be quite unhappy. Pardon, Sir,this severity of expression--one is apt to say more than one would ofa person one dislikes, when more is said in his favour than he canpossibly deserve; and when he is urged to my acceptance with so muchvehemence, that there is no choice left me.

  Whether these things be perfectly so, or not, while I think they are,it is impossible I should ever look upon Mr. Solmes in the light he isoffered to me. Nay, were he to be proved ten times better than I haverepresented him, and sincerely think him; yet would he be still tentimes more disagreeable to me than any other man I know in the world.
Let me therefore beseech you, Sir, to become an advocate for your niece,that she may not be made a victim to a man so highly disgustful to her.

  You and my other uncle can do a great deal for me, if you please, withmy papa. Be persuaded, Sir, that I am not governed by obstinacy in thiscase; but by aversion; an aversion I cannot overcome: for, if I have butendeavoured to reason with myself, (out of regard to the duty I oweto my father's will,) my heart has recoiled, and I have been averse tomyself, for offering but to argue with myself, in behalf of a man who,in the light he appears to me, has no one merit; and who, knowing thisaversion, could not persevere as he does, if he had the spirit of a man.

  If, Sir, you can think of the contents of this letter reasonable, Ibeseech you to support them with your interest. If not--I shall be mostunhappy!--Nevertheless, it is but just in me so to write, as that Mr.Solmes may know what he has to trust to.

  Forgive, dear Sir, this tedious letter; and suffer it to have weightwith you; and you will for ever oblige

  Your dutiful and affectionate niece,

  CL. HARLOWE.

  ***

  MR. ANTONY HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE

  NIECE CLARY,

  You had better not write to us, or to any of us. To me, particularly,you had better never to have set pen to paper, on the subject whereonyou have written. He that is first in his own cause, saith the wise man,seemeth just: but his neighbour cometh and searcheth him. And so, inthis respect, I will be your neighbour: for I will search your heart tothe bottom; that is to say, if your letter be written from your heart.Yet do I know what a task I have undertaken, because of the knack youare noted for at writing. But in defence of a father's authority, inbehalf of the good, and honour, and prosperity of the family one comesof, what a hard thing it would be, if one could not beat down all thearguments a rebel child (how loth I am to write down that word of MissClary Harlowe!) can bring, in behalf of her obstinacy!

  In the first place, don't you declare (and that contrary to yourdeclarations to your mother, remember that, girl!) that you prefer theman we all hate, and who hates us as bad!--Then what a character haveyou given of a worthy man! I wonder you dare write so freely of one weall respect--but possibly it may be for that very reason.

  How you begin your letter!--Because I value Mr. Solmes as my friend, youtreat him the worse--That's the plain dunstable of the matter, Miss!--Iam not such a fool but I can see that.--And so a noted whoremonger isto be chosen before a man who is a money-lover!--Let me tell you, Niece,this little becomes so nice a one as you have been always reckoned. Who,think you, does more injustice, a prodigal man or a saving man?--The onesaves his own money; the other spends other people's. But your favouriteis a sinner in grain, and upon record.

  The devil's in your sex! God forgive me for saying so--the nicest ofthem will prefer a vile rake and wh---- I suppose I must not repeat theword:--the word will offend, when the vicious denominated by that wordwill be chosen!--I had not been a bachelor to this time, if I had notseen such a mass of contradictions in you all.--Such gnat-strainers andcamel-swallowers, as venerable Holy Writ has it.

  What names will perverseness call things by!--A prudent man, who intendsto be just to every body, is a covetous man!--While a vile, profligaterake is christened with the appellation of a gallant man; and a politeman, I'll warrant you!

  It is my firm opinion, Lovelace would not have so much regard for youas he professes, but for two reasons. And what are these?--Why, out ofspite to all of us--one of them. The other, because of your independentfortune. I wish your good grandfather had not left what he did so muchin your own power, as I may say. But little did he imagine his belovedgrand-daughter would have turned upon all her friends as she has done!

  What has Mr. Solmes to hope for, if you are prepossessed! Hey-day!Is this you, cousin Clary!--Has he then nothing to hope for from yourfather's, and mother's, and our recommendations?--No, nothing at all, itseems!--O brave!--I should think that this, with a dutiful child, as wetook you to be, was enough. Depending on this your duty, we proceeded:and now there is no help for it: for we will not be balked: neithershall our friend Mr. Solmes, I can tell you that.

  If your estate is convenient for him, what then? Does that (pert cousin)make it out that he does not love you? He had need to expect some goodwith you, that has so little good to hope for from you; mind that. Butpray, is not this estate our estate, as we may say? Have we not all aninterest in it, and a prior right, if right were to have taken place?And was it not more than a good old man's dotage, God rest his soul!that gave it you before us all?--Well then, ought we not to have achoice who shall have it in marriage with you? and would you have theconscience to wish us to let a vile fellow, who hates us all, run awaywith it?--You bid me weigh what you write: do you weigh this, Girl: andit will appear we have more to say for ourselves than you was aware of.

  As to your hard treatment, as you call it, thank yourself for that. Itmay be over when you will: so I reckon nothing upon that. You was notbanished and confined till all entreaty and fair speeches were triedwith you: mind that. And Mr. Solmes can't help your obstinacy: let thatbe observed too.

  As to being visited, and visiting; you never was fond of either: sothat's a grievance put into the scale to make weight.--As to disgrace,that's as bad to us as to you: so fine a young creature! So much as weused to brag of you too!--And besides, this is all in your power, as therest.

  But your heart recoils, when you would persuade yourself to obey yourparent--Finely described, is it not!--Too truly described, I own, as yougo on. I know that you may love him if you will. I had a good mind tobid you hate him; then, perhaps, you would like him the better: for Ihave always found a most horrid romantic perverseness in your sex.--Todo and to love what you should not, is meat, drink, and vesture, to youall.

  I am absolutely of your brother's mind, That reading and writing, thoughnot too much for the wits of you young girls, are too much for yourjudgments.--You say, you may be conceited, Cousin; you may be vain!--Andso you are, to despise this gentleman as you do. He can read and writeas well as most gentlemen, I can tell you that. Who told you Mr. Solmescannot read and write? But you must have a husband who can learnyou something!--I wish you knew but your duty as well as you do yourtalents--that, Niece, you have of late days to learn; and Mr. Solmeswill therefore find something to instruct you in. I will not shew himthis letter of yours, though you seem to desire it, lest it shouldprovoke him to be too severe a schoolmaster, when you are his'n.

  But now I think of it, suppose you are the reader at your pen thanhe--You will make the more useful wife to him; won't you? For who sogood an economist as you?--And you may keep all of his accounts,and save yourselves a steward.--And, let me tell you, this is a fineadvantage in a family: for those stewards are often sad dogs, and creepinto a man's estate before he knows where he is; and not seldom is heforced to pay them interest for his own money.

  I know not why a good wife should be above these things. It is betterthan lying a-bed half the day, and junketing and card-playing all thenight, and making yourselves wholly useless to every good purpose inyour own families, as is now the fashion among ye. The duce take you allthat do so, say I!--Only that, thank my stars, I am a bachelor.

  Then this is a province you are admirably versed in: you grieve thatit is taken from you here, you know. So here, Miss, with Mr. Solmes youwill have something to keep account of, for the sake of you and yourchildren: with the other, perhaps you will have an account to keep,too--but an account of what will go over the left shoulder; only of whathe squanders, what he borrows, and what he owes, and never will pay.Come, come, Cousin, you know nothing of the world; a man's a man; andyou may have many partners in a handsome man, and costly ones too, whomay lavish away all you save. Mr. Solmes therefore for my money, and Ihope for yours.

  But Mr. Solmes is a coarse man. He is not delicate enough for yourniceness; because I suppose he dresses not like a fop and a coxcomb, andbecause he lays not himself out in complimental nonsense, the poison o
ffemale minds. He is a man of sense, that I can tell you. No mantalks more to the purpose to us: but you fly him so, that he has noopportunity given him, to express it to you: and a man who loves, if hehave ever so much sense, looks a fool; especially when he is despised,and treated as you treated him the last time he was in your company.

  As to his sister; she threw herself away (as you want to do) against hisfull warning: for he told her what she had to trust to, if she marriedwhere she did marry. And he was as good as his word; and so an honestman ought: offences against warning ought to be smarted for. Take carethis be not your case: mind that.

  His uncle deserves no favour from him; for he would have circumventedMr. Solmes, and got Sir Oliver to leave to himself the estate he hadalways designed for him his nephew, and brought him up in the hope ofit. Too ready forgiveness does but encourage offences: that's your goodfather's maxim: and there would not be so many headstrong daughters asthere are, if this maxim were kept in mind.--Punishments are of serviceto offenders; rewards should be only to the meriting: and I think theformer are to be dealt out rigourously, in willful cases.

  As to his love; he shews it but too much for your deservings, as theyhave been of late; let me tell you that: and this is his misfortune; andmay in time perhaps be yours.

  As to his parsimony, which you wickedly call diabolical, [a very freeword in your mouth, let me tell ye], little reason have you of allpeople for this, on whom he proposes, of his own accord, to settle allhe has in the world: a proof, let him love riches as he will, that heloves you better. But that you may be without excuse on this score,we will tie him up to your own terms, and oblige him by themarriage-articles to allow you a very handsome quarterly sum to do whatyou please with. And this has been told you before; and I have said itto Mrs. Howe (that good and worthy lady) before her proud daughter, thatyou might hear of it again.

  To contradict the charge of prepossession to Lovelace, you offer neverto have him without our consents: and what is this saying, but that youwill hope on for our consents, and to wheedle and tire us out? Then hewill always be in expectation while you are single: and we are to liveon at this rate (are we?) vexed by you, and continually watchful aboutyou; and as continually exposed to his insolence and threats. Rememberlast Sunday, Girl!--What might have happened, had your brother and hemet?--Moreover, you cannot do with such a spirit as his, as you can withworthy Mr. Solmes: the one you make tremble; the other will makeyou quake: mind that--and you will not be able to help yourself. Andremember, that if there should be any misunderstanding between one ofthem and you, we should all interpose; and with effect, no doubt: butwith the other, it would be self-do, self-have; and who would eithercare or dare to put in a word for you? Nor let the supposition ofmatrimonial differences frighten you: honey-moon lasts not now-a-daysabove a fortnight; and Dunmow flitch, as I have been informed, was neverclaimed; though some say once it was. Marriage is a queer state, Child,whether paired by the parties or by their friends. Out of three brothersof us, you know, there was but one had courage to marry. And why was it,do you think? We were wise by other people's experience.

  Don't despise money so much: you may come to know the value of it: thatis a piece of instruction that you are to learn; and which, according toyour own notions, Mr. Solmes will be able to teach you.

  I do indeed condemn your warmth. I will not allow for disgraces youbring upon yourself. If I thought them unmerited, I would be youradvocate. But it was always my notion, that children should not disputetheir parents' authority. When your grandfather left his estate to you,though his three sons, and a grandson, and your elder sister, were inbeing, we all acquiesced: and why? Because it was our father's doing. Doyou imitate that example: if you will not, those who set it you have themore reason to hold you inexcusable: mind that, Cousin.

  You mention your brother too scornfully: and, in your letter to him, arevery disrespectful; and so indeed you are to your sister, in the letteryou wrote to her. Your brother, Madam, is your brother; and third olderthan yourself, and a man: and pray be so good as not to forget what isdue to a brother, who (next to us three brothers) is the head of thefamily, and on whom the name depends--as upon your dutiful compliancelaid down for the honour of the family you are come of. And pray now letme ask you, If the honour of that will not be an honour to you?--If youdon't think so, the more unworthy you. You shall see the plan, if youpromise not to be prejudiced against it right or wrong. If you are notbesotted to that man, I am sure you will like it. If you are, were Mr.Solmes an angel, it would signify nothing: for the devil is love, andlove is the devil, when it gets into any of your heads. Many exampleshave I seen of that.

  If there were no such man as Lovelace in the world, you would not haveMr. Solmes.--You would not, Miss!--Very pretty, truly!--We see how yourspirit is embittered indeed.--Wonder not, since it is come to your willnot's, that those who have authority over you, say, You shall have theother. And I am one: mind that. And if it behoves YOU to speak out,Miss, it behoves US not to speak in. What's sauce for the goose is saucefor the gander: take that in your thought too.

  I humbly apprehend, that Mr. Solmes has the spirit of a man, and agentleman. I would admonish you therefore not to provoke it. He pitiesyou as much as he loves you. He says, he will convince you of his loveby deeds, since he is not permitted by you to express it by words. Andall his dependence is upon your generosity hereafter. We hope he maydepend upon that: we encourage him to think he may. And this heartenshim up. So that you may lay his constancy at your parents' and youruncles' doors; and this will be another mark of your duty, you know.

  You must be sensible, that you reflect upon your parents, and all ofus, when you tell me you cannot in justice accept of the settlementsproposed to you. This reflection we should have wondered at from youonce; but now we don't.

  There are many other very censurable passages in this free letter ofyours; but we must place them to the account of your embittered spirit.I am glad you mentioned that word, because we should have been at aloss what to have called it.--I should much rather nevertheless have hadreason to give it a better name.

  I love you dearly still, Miss. I think you, though my niece, one of thefinest young gentlewomen I ever saw. But, upon my conscience, I thinkyou ought to obey your parents, and oblige me and my brother John:for you know very well, that we have nothing but your good at heart:consistently indeed with the good and honour of all of us. What must wethink of any one of it, who would not promote the good of the whole?and who would set one part of it against another?--Which God forbid, sayI!--You see I am for the good of all. What shall I get by it, let thingsgo as they will? Do I want any thing of any body for my own sake?--Doesmy brother John?--Well, then, Cousin Clary, what would you be at, as Imay say?

  O but you can't love Mr. Solmes!--But, I say, you know not what youcan do. You encourage yourself in your dislike. You permit your heart(little did I think it was such a froward one) to recoil. Take it totask, Niece; drive it on as fast as it recoils, [we do so in all oursea-fights, and land-fights too, by our sailors and soldiers, or weshould not conquer]; and we are all sure you will overcome it. And why?Because you ought. So we think, whatever you think: and whose thoughtsare to be preferred? You may be wittier than we; but, if you were wiser,we have lived some of us, let me tell you, to very little purpose,thirty or forty years longer than you.

  I have written as long a letter as yours. I may not write in so lively,or so polite a style as my Niece: but I think I have all the argumenton my side: and you will vastly oblige me, if you will shew me, by yourcompliance with all our desires, that you think so too. If you do not,you must not expect an advocate, or even a friend, in me, dearly as Ilove you. For then I shall be sorry to be called

  Your uncle, ANT. HARLOWE.

  TUESDAY, TWO IN THE MORNING. POSTSCRIPT.

  You must send me no more letters: but a compliable one you may send.But I need not have forbid you; for I am sure this, by fair argument,is unanswerable--I know it is. I have written day and night, I may say
,ever since Sunday morning, only church-time, or the like of that: butthis is the last, I can tell you, from

  ANT. H.

 

‹ Prev