She folded the warm statue, as she was pleased to call me, in her arms;
and entreated me, for heaven's sake, to comply.
Speech and tears were lent me at the same time.--You have given me life,
Madam, said I, clasping my uplifted hands together, and falling on one
knee; a happy one, till now, has your goodness, and my papa's, made it!
O do not, do not, make all the remainder of it miserable!
Your father, replied she, is resolved not to see you, till he sees you
as obedient a child as you used to be. You have never been put to a test
till now, that deserved to be called a test. This is, this must be,
my last effort with you. Give me hope, my dear child: my peace is
concerned: I will compound with you but for hope: and yet your
father will not be satisfied without an implicit, and even a cheerful
obedience--Give me but hope, child!
To give you hope, my dearest, my most indulgent Mamma, is to give you
every thing. Can I be honest, if I give a hope that I cannot confirm?
She was very angry. She again called me perverse: she upbraided me with
regarding only my own prepossessions, and respecting not either her
peace of mind or my own duty:--'It is a grating thing, said she, for the
parents of a child, who delighted in her in all the time of her helpless
infancy, and throughout every stage of her childhood; and in every
part of her education to womanhood, because of the promises she gave of
proving the most grateful and dutiful of children; to find, just when
the time arrived which should crown their wishes, that child stand in
the way of her own happiness, and her parents' comfort,and, refusing an
excellent offer and noble settlements, give suspicions to her anxious
friends, that she would become the property of a vile rake and
libertine, who (be the occasion what it will) defies her family, and has
actually embrued his hands in her brother's blood.
'I have had a very hard time of it, said she, between your father and
you; for, seeing your dislike, I have more than once pleaded for you:
but all to no purpose. I am only treated as a too fond mother, who,
from motives of a blamable indulgence, encourage a child to stand in
opposition to a father's will. I am charged with dividing the family
into two parts; I and my youngest daughter standing against my husband,
his two brothers, my son, my eldest daughter, and my sister Hervey.
I have been told, that I must be convinced of the fitness as well
as advantage to the whole (your brother and Mr. Lovelace out of the
question) of carrying the contract with Mr. Solmes, on which so many
contracts depend, into execution.
'Your father's heart, I tell you once more, is in it: he has declared,
that he had rather have no daughter in you, than one he cannot dispose
of for your own good: especially if you have owned, that your heart is
free; and as the general good of his whole family is to be promoted
by your obedience. He has pleaded, poor man! that his frequent gouty
paroxysms (every fit more threatening than the former) give him no
extraordinary prospects, either of worldly happiness, or of long days:
and he hopes, that you, who have been supposed to have contributed
to the lengthening of your grandfather's life, will not, by your
disobedience, shorten your father's.'
This was a most affecting plea, my dear. I wept in silence upon it. I
could not speak to it. And my mother proceeded: 'What therefore can be
his motives, Clary Harlowe, in the earnest desire he has to see this
treaty perfected, but the welfare and aggrandizement of his family;
which already having fortunes to become the highest condition, cannot
but aspire to greater distinctions? However slight such views as these
may appear to you, Clary, you know, that they are not slight ones to any
other of the family: and your father will be his own judge of what
is and what is not likely to promote the good of his children. Your
abstractedness, child, (affectation of abstractedness, some call it,)
savours, let me tell you, of greater particularity, than we aim to
carry. Modesty and humility, therefore, will oblige you rather to
mistrust yourself of peculiarity, than censure views which all the world
pursues, as opportunity offers.'
I was still silent; and she proceeded--'It is owing to the good opinion,
Clary, which your father has of you, and of your prudence, duty, and
gratitude, that he engaged for your compliance, in your absence (before
you returned from Miss Howe); and that he built and finished contracts
upon it, which cannot be made void, or cancelled.'
But why then, thought I, did they receive me, on my return from Miss
Howe, with so much intimidating solemnity?--To be sure, my dear, this
argument, as well as the rest, was obtruded upon my mother.
She went on, 'Your father has declared, that your unexpected opposition,
[unexpected she was pleased to call it,] and Mr. Lovelace's continued
menaces and insults, more and more convince him, that a short day is
necessary in order to put an end to all that man's hopes, and to his own
apprehensions resulting from the disobedience of a child so favoured. He
has therefore actually ordered patterns of the richest silks to be sent
for from London--'
I started--I was out of breath--I gasped, at this frightful
precipitance--I was going to open with warmth against it. I knew whose
the happy expedient must be: female minds, I once heard my brother say,
that could but be brought to balance on the change of their state,
might easily be determined by the glare and splendour of the nuptial
preparations, and the pride of becoming the mistress of a family.--But
she was pleased to hurry on, that I might not have time to express
my disgusts at such a communication--to this effect: 'Your father
therefore, my Clary, cannot, either for your sake, or his own, labour
under a suspense so affecting to his repose. He has even thought fit to
acquaint me, on my pleading for you, that it becomes me, as I value my
own peace, [how harsh to such a wife!] and as I wish, that he does not
suspect that I secretly favour the address of a vile rake, (a character
which all the sex, he is pleased to say, virtuous and vicious, are but
too fond of!) to exert my authority over you: and that this I may the
less scrupulously do, as you have owned [the old string!] that your
heart is free.'
Unworthy reflection in my mother's case, surely, this of our sex's
valuing a libertine; since she made choice of my father in preference
to several suitors of equal fortune, because they were of inferior
reputation for morals!
'Your father, added she, at his going out, told me what he expected
from me, in case I found out that I had not the requisite influence upon
you--It was this--That I should directly separate myself from you, and
leave you singly to take the consequence of your double disobedience--I
therefore entreat you, my dear Clarissa, concluded she, and that in the
most earnest and condescending manner, to signify to your father, on his
return, your ready obedience; and this as well for my sake as your own.'
Affected by my mother's goodness to me, and by that part of her argument
which related to her own peace, and to the suspicions they had of her
secretly inclining to prefer the man so hated by them, to the man so
much my aversion, I could not but wish it were possible for me to obey,
I therefore paused, hesitated, considered, and was silent for some time.
I could see, that my mother hoped that the result of this hesitation
would be favourable to her arguments. But then recollecting, that all
was owing to the instigations of a brother and sister, wholly actuated
by selfish and envious views; that I had not deserved the treatment I
had of late met with; that my disgrace was already become the public
talk; that the man was Mr. Solmes; and that my aversion to him was too
generally known, to make my compliance either creditable to myself or
to them: that it would give my brother and sister a triumph over me,
and over Mr. Lovelace, which they would not fail to glory in; and which,
although it concerned me but little to regard on his account, yet might
be attended with fatal mischiefs--And then Mr. Solmes's
disagreeable person; his still more disagreeable manners; his low
understanding--Understanding! the glory of a man, so little to be
dispensed with in the head and director of a family, in order to
preserve to him that respect which a good wife (and that for the
justification of her own choice) should pay him herself, and wish every
body to pay him.--And as Mr. Solmes's inferiority in this respectable
faculty of the human mind [I must be allowed to say this to you, and no
great self assumption neither] would proclaim to all future, as well as
to all present observers, what must have been my mean inducement. All
these reflections crowding upon my remembrance; I would, Madam, said
I, folding my hands, with an earnestness in which my whole heart was
engaged, bear the cruelest tortures, bear loss of limb, and even of
life, to give you peace. But this man, every moment I would, at you
command, think of him with favour, is the more my aversion. You cannot,
indeed you cannot, think, how my whole soul resists him!--And to talk
of contracts concluded upon; of patterns; of a short day!--Save me,
save me, O my dearest Mamma, save your child, from this heavy, from this
insupportable evil--!
Never was there a countenance that expressed so significantly, as my
mother's did, an anguish, which she struggled to hide, under an anger
she was compelled to assume--till the latter overcoming the former, she
turned from me with an uplifted eye, and stamping--Strange perverseness!
were the only words I heard of a sentence that she angrily pronounced;
and was going. I then, half-frantically I believe, laid hold of her
gown--Have patience with me, dearest Madam! said I--Do not you renounce
me totally!--If you must separate yourself from your child, let it
not be with absolute reprobation on your own part!--My uncles may be
hard-hearted--my father may be immovable--I may suffer from my brother's
ambition, and from my sister's envy!--But let me not lose my Mamma's
love; at least, her pity.
She turned to me with benigner rays--You have my love! You have my pity!
But, O my dearest girl--I have not yours.
Indeed, indeed, Madam, you have: and all my reverence, all my gratitude,
you have!--But in this one point--Cannot I be this once obliged?--Will
no expedient be accepted? Have I not made a very fair proposal as to Mr.
Lovelace?
I wish, for both our sakes, my dear unpersuadable girl, that the
decision of this point lay with me. But why, when you know it does not,
why should you thus perplex and urge me?--To renounce Mr. Lovelace is
now but half what is aimed at. Nor will any body else believe you in
earnest in the offer, if I would. While you remain single, Mr. Lovelace
will have hopes--and you, in the opinion of others, inclinations.
Permit me, dearest Madam, to say, that your goodness to me, your
patience, your peace, weigh more with me, than all the rest put
together: for although I am to be treated by my brother, and, through
his instigations, by my father, as a slave in this point, and not as a
daughter, yet my mind is not that of a slave. You have not brought me up
to be mean.
So, Clary! you are already at defiance with your father! I have had too
much cause before to apprehend as much--What will this come to?--I, and
then my dear mamma sighed--I, am forced to put up with many humours--
That you are, my ever-honoured Mamma, is my grief. And can it be
thought, that this very consideration, and the apprehension of what may
result from a much worse-tempered man, (a man who has not half the sense
of my father,) has not made an impression upon me, to the disadvantage
of the married life? Yet 'tis something of an alleviation, if one must
bear undue controul, to bear it from a man of sense. My father, I
have heard you say, Madam, was for years a very good-humoured
gentleman--unobjectionable in person and manners--but the man proposed
to me--
Forbear reflecting upon your father: [Did I, my dear, in what I have
repeated, and I think they are the very words, reflect upon my father?]
it is not possible, I must say again, and again, were all men equally
indifferent to you, that you should be thus sturdy in your will. I am
tired out with your obstinacy--The most unpersuadable girl--You forget,
that I must separate myself from you, if you will not comply. You do not
remember that you father will take you up, where I leave you. Once
more, however, I will put it to you,--Are you determined to brave your
father's displeasure?--Are you determined to defy your uncles?--Do you
choose to break with us all, rather than encourage Mr. Solmes?--Rather
than give me hope?
Dreadful alternative--But is not my sincerity, is not the integrity of
my heart, concerned in the answer? May not my everlasting happiness
be the sacrifice? Will not the least shadow of the hope you just now
demanded from me, be driven into absolute and sudden certainty? Is it
not sought to ensnare, to entangle me in my own desire of obeying, if
I could give answers that might be construed into hope?--Forgive
me, Madam: bear with your child's boldness in such a cause as
this!--Settlements drawn!--Patterns sent for!--An early day!--Dear, dear
Madam, how can I give hope, and not intend to be this man's?
Ah, girl, never say your heart is free! You deceive yourself if you
think it is.
Thus to be driven [and I wrung my hands through impatience] by the
instigations of a designing, an ambitious brother, and by a sister,
that--
How often, Clary, must I forbid your unsisterly reflections?--Does not
your father, do not your uncles, does not every body, patronize
Mr. Solmes? And let me tell you, ungrateful girl, and unmovable as
ungrateful, let me repeatedly tell you, that it is evident to me, that
nothing but a love unworthy of your prudence can make you a creature
late so dutiful, now so sturdy. You may guess what your father's first
question on his return will be. He must know, that I can do nothing with
you. I have done my part. Seek me, if your mind change before he comes
back: you have yet a little more time, as he stays supper. I will no
more seek you, nor to you.--And away she flung.
What could I do but weep?
I am extremely affected on my mother's account--more, I must needs say,
than on my own. And indeed, all things considered, and especially, that
the measure she is engaged in, is (as I dare say it is) against her own
judgment, she deserves more compassion than myself.--Excellent woman!
What pity, that meekness and condescension should not be attended with
the due rewards of those charming graces!--Yet had she not let violent
spirits (as I have elsewhere observed with no small regret) find their
power over hers, it could not have been thus.
But here, run away with my pen, I suffer my mother to be angry with me
on her own account. She hinted to me, indeed, that I must seek her, if
my mind changed; which is a condition that amounts to a prohibition of
attending her: but, as she left me in displeasure, will it not have a
very obstinate appearance, and look like a kind of renunciation of her
mediation in my favour, if I go not down before my father returns, to
supplicate her pity, and her kind report to him?
I will attend her. I had rather all the world should be angry with me
than my mamma!
Mean time, to clear my hands from papers of such a nature, Hannah shall
deposit this. If two or three letters reach you together, they will but
express from one period to another, the anxieties and difficulties which
the mind of your unhappy but ever affectionate friend labours under.