COLONEL MORDEN
[IN CONTINUATION.]
THURSDAY NIGHT, SEPT. 14.
We are just returned from the solemnization of the last mournful rite.
My cousin James and his sister, Mr. and Mrs. Hervey, and their daughter,
a young lady whose affection for my departed cousin shall ever bind me to
her, my cousins John and Antony Harlowe, myself, and some other more
distant relations of the names of Fuller and Allinson, (who, to testify
their respect to the memory of the dear deceased, had put themselves in
mourning,) self-invited, attended it.
The father and mother would have joined in these last honours, had they
been able; but they were both very much indisposed; and continue to be
so.
The inconsolable mother told Mrs. Norton, that the two mothers of the
sweetest child in the world ought not, on this occasion, to be separated.
She therefore desired her to stay with her.
The whole solemnity was performed with great decency and order. The
distance from Harlowe-place to the church is about half a mile. All the
way the corpse was attended by great numbers of people of all conditions.
It was nine when it entered the church; every corner of which was
crowded. Such a profound, such a silent respect did I never see paid at
the funeral of princes. An attentive sadness overspread the face of all.
The eulogy pronounced by Mr. Melvill was a very pathetic one. He wiped
his own eyes often, and made every body present still oftener wipe
theirs.
The auditors were most particularly affected, when he told them, that the
solemn text was her own choice.
He enumerated her fine qualities, naming with honour their late worthy
pastor for his authority.
Every enumerated excellence was witnessed to in different parts of the
church in respectful whispers by different persons, as of their own
knowledge, as I have been since informed.
When he pointed to the pew where (doing credit to religion by her
example) she used to sit or kneel, the whole auditory, as one person,
turned to the pew with the most respectful solemnity, as if she had been
herself there.
When the gentleman attributed condescension and mingled dignity to her,
a buzzing approbation was given to the attribute throughout the church;
and a poor, neat woman under my pew added, 'That she was indeed all
graciousness, and would speak to any body.'
Many eyes ran over when he mentioned her charities, her well-judged
charities. And her reward was decreed from every mouth with sighs and
sobs from some, and these words from others, 'The poor will dearly miss
her.'
The cheerful giver whom God is said to love, was allowed to be her: and
a young lady, I am told, said, It was Miss Clarissa Harlowe's care to
find out the unhappy, upon a sudden distress, before the sighing heart
was overwhelmed by it.
She had a set of poor people, chosen for their remarkable honesty and
ineffectual industry. These voluntarily paid their last attendance on
their benefactress; and mingling in the church as they could crowd near
the aisle where the corpse was on stands, it was the less wonder that her
praises from the preacher met with such general and such grateful
whispers of approbation.
Some, it seems there were, who, knowing her unhappy story, remarked upon
the dejected looks of the brother, and the drowned eyes of the sister!
'O what would they now give, they'd warrant, had they not been so
hard-hearted!'--Others pursued, as I may say, the severe father and
unhappy mother into their chambers at home--'They answered for their
relenting, now that it was too late!--What must be their grief!--No
wonder they could not be present!'
Several expressed their astonishment, as people do every hour, 'that a
man could live whom such perfections could not engage to be just to her;'
--to be humane I may say. And who, her rank and fortune considered,
could be so disregardful of his own interest, had he had no other motive
to be just!--
The good divine, led by his text, just touched upon the unhappy step that
was the cause of her untimely fate. He attributed it to the state of
things below, in which there could not be absolute perfection. He very
politely touched upon the noble disdain she showed (though earnestly
solicited by a whole splendid family) to join interests with a man whom
she found unworthy of her esteem and confidence: and who courted her with
the utmost earnestness to accept of him.
What he most insisted upon was, the happy end she made; and thence drew
consolation to her relations, and instruction to the auditory.
In a word, his performance was such as heightened the reputation which he
had before in a very eminent degree obtained.
When the corpse was to be carried down into the vault, (a very spacious
one, within the church,) there was great crowding to see the coffin-lid,
and the devices upon it. Particularly two gentlemen, muffled up in
clokes, pressed forward. These, it seems, were Mr. Mullins and Mr.
Wyerley; both of them professed admirers of my dear cousin.
When they came near the coffin, and cast their eyes upon the lid, 'In
that little space,' said Mr. Mullins, 'is included all human excellence!'
--And then Mr. Wyerley, unable to contain himself, was forced to quit the
church, and we hear is very ill.
It is said that Mr. Solmes was in a remote part of the church, wrapped
round in a horseman's coat; and that he shed tears several times. But I
saw him not.
Another gentleman was there incognito, in a pew near the entrance of the
vault, who had not been taken notice of, but for his great emotion when
he looked over his pew, at the time the coffin was carried down to its
last place. This was Miss Howe's worthy Mr. Hickman.
My cousins John and Antony and their nephew James chose not to descend
into the vault among their departed ancestors.
Miss Harlowe was extremely affected. Her conscience, as well as her
love, was concerned on the occasion. She would go down with the corpse
of her dear, her only sister, she said; but her brother would not permit
it. And her overwhelmed eye pursued the coffin till she could see no
more of it; and then she threw herself on the seat, and was near fainting
away.
I accompanied it down, that I might not only satisfy myself, but you,
Sir, her executor, that it was deposited, as she had directed, at the
feet of her grandfather.
Mr. Melvill came down, contemplated the lid, and shed a few tears over
it. I was so well satisfied with his discourse and behaviour, that I
presented him on the solemn spot with a ring of some value; and thanked
him for his performance.
And here I left the remains of my beloved cousin; having bespoken my own
place by the side of her coffin.
On my return to Harlowe-place, I contented myself with sending my
compliments to the sorrowing parents, and retired to my chamber. Nor am
I ashamed to own, that I could not help giving way to a repeated fit of
humanity, as soon as I entered it. I am, Sir,
Your most faithful and obedient servant,
WM. MORDEN.
P.S. You will have a letter from my cousin James, who hopes to prevail
upon you to relinquish the executorship. It has not my
encouragement.