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 whereon
you 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, in
this respect, I will be your neighbour: for I will search your heart to
the 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 you
are noted for at writing. But in defence of a father's authority, in
behalf of the good, and honour, and prosperity of the family one comes
of, what a hard thing it would be, if one could not beat down all the
arguments a rebel child (how loth I am to write down that word of Miss
Clary Harlowe!) can bring, in behalf of her obstinacy!
In the first place, don't you declare (and that contrary to your
declarations to your mother, remember that, girl!) that you prefer the
man we all hate, and who hates us as bad!--Then what a character have
you given of a worthy man! I wonder you dare write so freely of one we
all respect--but possibly it may be for that very reason.
How you begin your letter!--Because I value Mr. Solmes as my friend, you
treat him the worse--That's the plain dunstable of the matter, Miss!--I
am not such a fool but I can see that.--And so a noted whoremonger is
to 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 one
saves his own money; the other spends other people's. But your favourite
is a sinner in grain, and upon record.
The devil's in your sex! God forgive me for saying so--the nicest of
them will prefer a vile rake and wh---- I suppose I must not repeat the
word:--the word will offend, when the vicious denominated by that word
will be chosen!--I had not been a bachelor to this time, if I had not
seen such a mass of contradictions in you all.--Such gnat-strainers and
camel-swallowers, as venerable Holy Writ has it.
What names will perverseness call things by!--A prudent man, who intends
to be just to every body, is a covetous man!--While a vile, profligate
rake is christened with the appellation of a gallant man; and a polite
man, I'll warrant you!
It is my firm opinion, Lovelace would not have so much regard for you
as he professes, but for two reasons. And what are these?--Why, out of
spite to all of us--one of them. The other, because of your independent
fortune. I wish your good grandfather had not left what he did so much
in your own power, as I may say. But little did he imagine his beloved
grand-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 your
father's, and mother's, and our recommendations?--No, nothing at all, it
seems!--O brave!--I should think that this, with a dutiful child, as we
took 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: neither
shall 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 good
with you, that has so little good to hope for from you; mind that. But
pray, is not this estate our estate, as we may say? Have we not all an
interest 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 a
choice who shall have it in marriage with you? and would you have the
conscience to wish us to let a vile fellow, who hates us all, run away
with it?--You bid me weigh what you write: do you weigh this, Girl: and
it 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. It
may be over when you will: so I reckon nothing upon that. You was not
banished and confined till all entreaty and fair speeches were tried
with you: mind that. And Mr. Solmes can't help your obstinacy: let that
be observed too.
As to being visited, and visiting; you never was fond of either: so
that'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 we
used to brag of you too!--And besides, this is all in your power, as the
rest.
But your heart recoils, when you would persuade yourself to obey your
parent--Finely described, is it not!--Too truly described, I own, as you
go on. I know that you may love him if you will. I had a good mind to
bid you hate him; then, perhaps, you would like him the better: for I
have always found a most horrid romantic perverseness in your sex.--To
do and to love what you should not, is meat, drink, and vesture, to you
all.
I am absolutely of your brother's mind, That reading and writing, though
not too much for the wits of you young girls, are too much for your
judgments.--You say, you may be conceited, Cousin; you may be vain!--And
so you are, to despise this gentleman as you do. He can read and write
as well as most gentlemen, I can tell you that. Who told you Mr. Solmes
cannot read and write? But you must have a husband who can learn
you something!--I wish you knew but your duty as well as you do your
talents--that, Niece, you have of late days to learn; and Mr. Solmes
will therefore find something to instruct you in. I will not shew him
this letter of yours, though you seem to desire it, lest it should
provoke 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 than
he--You will make the more useful wife to him; won't you? For who so
good 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 fine
advantage in a family: for those stewards are often sad dogs, and creep
into a man's estate before he knows where he is; and not seldom is he
forced to pay them interest for his own money.
I know not why a good wife should be above these things. It is better
than lying a-bed half the day, and junketing and card-playing all the
night, and making yourselves wholly useless to every good purpose in
your own families, as is now the fashion among ye. The duce take you all
that 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 that
it is taken from you here, you know. So here, Miss, with Mr. Solmes you
will have something to keep account of, for the sake of you and your
children: 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 what
he 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; and
you may have many partners in a handsome man, and costly ones too, who
may lavish away all you save. Mr. Solmes therefore for my money, and I
hope for yours.
But Mr. Solmes is a coarse man. He is not delicate enough for your
niceness; because I suppose he dresses not like a fop and a coxcomb, and
because he lays not himself out in complimental nonsense, the poison of
female minds. He is a man of sense, that I can tell you. No man
talks more to the purpose to us: but you fly him so, that he has no
opportunity given him, to express it to you: and a man who loves, if he
have 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 his
full warning: for he told her what she had to trust to, if she married
where she did marry. And he was as good as his word; and so an honest
man ought: offences against warning ought to be smarted for. Take care
this be not your case: mind that.
His uncle deserves no favour from him; for he would have circumvented
Mr. Solmes, and got Sir Oliver to leave to himself the estate he had
always designed for him his nephew, and brought him up in the hope of
it. Too ready forgiveness does but encourage offences: that's your good
father's maxim: and there would not be so many headstrong daughters as
there are, if this maxim were kept in mind.--Punishments are of service
to offenders; rewards should be only to the meriting: and I think the
former are to be dealt out rigourously, in willful cases.
As to his love; he shews it but too much for your deservings, as they
have been of late; let me tell you that: and this is his misfortune; and
may in time perhaps be yours.
As to his parsimony, which you wickedly call diabolical, [a very free
word in your mouth, let me tell ye], little reason have you of all
people for this, on whom he proposes, of his own accord, to settle all
he has in the world: a proof, let him love riches as he will, that he
loves 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 the
marriage-articles to allow you a very handsome quarterly sum to do what
you please with. And this has been told you before; and I have said it
to Mrs. Howe (that good and worthy lady) before her proud daughter, that
you might hear of it again.
To contradict the charge of prepossession to Lovelace, you offer never
to have him without our consents: and what is this saying, but that you
will hope on for our consents, and to wheedle and tire us out? Then he
will always be in expectation while you are single: and we are to live
on at this rate (are we?) vexed by you, and continually watchful about
you; and as continually exposed to his insolence and threats. Remember
last Sunday, Girl!--What might have happened, had your brother and he
met?--Moreover, you cannot do with such a spirit as his, as you can with
worthy Mr. Solmes: the one you make tremble; the other will make
you quake: mind that--and you will not be able to help yourself. And
remember, that if there should be any misunderstanding between one of
them and you, we should all interpose; and with effect, no doubt: but
with the other, it would be self-do, self-have; and who would either
care or dare to put in a word for you? Nor let the supposition of
matrimonial differences frighten you: honey-moon lasts not now-a-days
above a fortnight; and Dunmow flitch, as I have been informed, was never
claimed; though some say once it was. Marriage is a queer state, Child,
whether paired by the parties or by their friends. Out of three brothers
of 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: that
is a piece of instruction that you are to learn; and which, according to
your own notions, Mr. Solmes will be able to teach you.
I do indeed condemn your warmth. I will not allow for disgraces you
bring upon yourself. If I thought them unmerited, I would be your
advocate. But it was always my notion, that children should not dispute
their parents' authority. When your grandfather left his estate to you,
though his three sons, and a grandson, and your elder sister, were in
being, we all acquiesced: and why? Because it was our father's doing. Do
you imitate that example: if you will not, those who set it you have the
more reason to hold you inexcusable: mind that, Cousin.
You mention your brother too scornfully: and, in your letter to him, are
very disrespectful; and so indeed you are to your sister, in the letter
you wrote to her. Your brother, Madam, is your brother; and third older
than yourself, and a man: and pray be so good as not to forget what is
due to a brother, who (next to us three brothers) is the head of the
family, and on whom the name depends--as upon your dutiful compliance
laid down for the honour of the family you are come of. And pray now let
me ask you, If the honour of that will not be an honour to you?--If you
don't think so, the more unworthy you. You shall see the plan, if you
promise not to be prejudiced against it right or wrong. If you are not
besotted 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, and
love is the devil, when it gets into any of your heads. Many examples
have I seen of that.
If there were no such man as Lovelace in the world, you would not have
Mr. Solmes.--You would not, Miss!--Very pretty, truly!--We see how your
spirit is embittered indeed.--Wonder not, since it is come to your will
not's, that those who have authority over you, say, You shall have the
other. 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 sauce
for the gander: take that in your thought too.
I humbly apprehend, that Mr. Solmes has the spirit of a man, and a
gentleman. I would admonish you therefore not to provoke it. He pities
you as much as he loves you. He says, he will convince you of his love
by deeds, since he is not permitted by you to express it by words. And
all his dependence is upon your generosity hereafter. We hope he may
depend upon that: we encourage him to think he may. And this heartens
him up. So that you may lay his constancy at your parents' and your
uncles' doors; and this will be another mark of your duty, you know.
You must be sensible, that you reflect upon your parents, and all of
us, when you tell me you cannot in justice accept of the settlements
proposed to you. This reflection we should have wondered at from you
once; but now we don't.
There are many other very censurable passages in this free letter of
yours; 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 a
loss what to have called it.--I should much rather nevertheless have had
reason to give it a better name.
I love you dearly still, Miss. I think you, though my niece, one of the
finest young gentlewomen I ever saw. But, upon my conscience, I think
you 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 we
think 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, say
I!--You see I am for the good of all. What shall I get by it, let things
go as they will? Do I want any thing of any body for my own sake?--Does
my brother John?--Well, then, Cousin Clary, what would you be at, as I
may say?
O but you can't love Mr. Solmes!--But, I say, you know not what you
can 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 to
task, Niece; drive it on as fast as it recoils, [we do so in all our
sea-fights, and land-fights too, by our sailors and soldiers, or we
should not conquer]; and we are all sure you will overcome it. And why?
Because you ought. So we think, whatever you think: and whose thoughts
are 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 argument
on my side: and you will vastly oblige me, if you will shew me, by your
compliance 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 I
love you. For then I shall be sorry to be called
Your uncle, ANT. HARLOWE.