MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY, MARCH 12.

This letter will account to you, my dear, for my abrupt breaking off in

the answer I was writing to yours of yesterday; and which, possibly,

I shall not be able to finish and send you till to-morrow or next day;

having a great deal to say to the subjects you put to me in it. What

I am now to give you are the particulars of another effort made by my

friends, through the good Mrs. Norton.

It seems they had sent to her yesterday, to be here this day, to take

their instructions, and to try what she could do with me. It would,

at least, I suppose they thought, have this effect; to render me

inexcusable with her; or to let her see, that there was no room for the

expostulations she had often wanted to make in my favour to my mother.

The declaration, that my heart was free, afforded them an argument to

prove obstinacy and perverseness upon me; since it could be nothing else

that governed me in my opposition to their wills, if I had no particular

esteem for another man. And now, that I have given them reason (in

order to obviate this argument) to suppose that I have a preference to

another, they are resolved to carry their schemes into execution as soon

as possible. And in order to do this, they sent for this good woman, for

whom they know I have even a filial regard.

She found assembled my father and mother, my brother and sister, my two

uncles, and my aunt Hervey.

My brother acquainted her with all that had passed since she was last

permitted to see me; with the contents of my letters avowing my regard

for Mr. Lovelace (as they all interpreted them); with the substance of

their answers to them; and with their resolutions.

My mother spoke next; and delivered herself to this effect, as the good

woman told me.

After reciting how many times I had been indulged in my refusals of

different men, and the pains she had taken with me, to induce me to

oblige my whole family in one instance out of five or six, and my

obstinacy upon it; 'O my good Mrs. Norton, said the dear lady, could

you have thought, that my Clarissa and your Clarissa was capable of so

determined an opposition to the will of parents so indulgent to her? But

see what you can do with her. The matter is gone too far to be receded

from on our parts. Her father had concluded every thing with Mr. Solmes,

not doubting her compliance. Such noble settlements, Mrs. Norton, and

such advantages to the whole family!--In short, she has it in her power

to lay an obligation upon us all. Mr. Solmes, knowing she has good

principles, and hoping by his patience now, and good treatment

hereafter, to engage her gratitude, and by degrees her love, is willing

to overlook all!--'

[Overlook all, my dear! Mr. Solmes to overlook all! There's a word!]

'So, Mrs. Norton, if you are convinced, that it is a child's duty to

submit to her parents' authority, in the most important point as well as

in the least, I beg you will try your influence over her: I have none:

her father has none: her uncles neither: although it is her apparent

interest to oblige us all; for, on that condition, her grandfather's

estate is not half of what, living and dying, is purposed to be done for

her. If any body can prevail with her, it is you; and I hope you will

heartily enter upon this task.'

The good woman asked, Whether she was permitted to expostulate with them

upon the occasion, before she came up to me?

My arrogant brother told her, she was sent for to expostulate with his

sister, and not with them. And this, Goody Norton [she is always

Goody with him!] you may tell her, that the treaty with Mr. Solmes is

concluded: that nothing but her compliance with her duty is wanting;

of consequence, that there is no room for your expostulation, or hers

either.

Be assured of this, Mrs. Norton, said my father, in an angry tone, that

we will not be baffled by her. We will not appear like fools in this

matter, and as if we have no authority over our own daughter. We will

not, in short, be bullied out of our child by a cursed rake, who had

like to have killed our only son!--And so she had better make a merit

of her obedience; for comply she shall, if I live; independent as she

thinks my father's indiscreet bounty has made her of me, her father.

Indeed, since that, she has never been like she was before. An unjust

bequest!--And it is likely to prosper accordingly!--But if she marry

that vile rake Lovelace, I will litigate every shilling with her: tell

her so; and that the will may be set aside, and shall.

My uncles joined, with equal heat.

My brother was violent in his declarations.

My sister put in with vehemence, on the same side.

My aunt Hervey was pleased to say, there was no article so proper for

parents to govern in, as this of marriage: and it was very fit mine

should be obliged.

Thus instructed, the good woman came up to me. She told me all that had

passed, and was very earnest with me to comply; and so much justice did

she to the task imposed upon her, that I more than once thought, that

her own opinion went with theirs. But when she saw what an immovable

aversion I had to the man, she lamented with me their determined

resolution: and then examined into the sincerity of my declaration,

that I would gladly compound with them by living single. Of this being

satisfied, she was so convinced that this offer, which, carried into

execution, would exclude Lovelace effectually, ought to be accepted,

that she would go down (although I told her, it was what I had tendered

over-and-over to no purpose) and undertake to be guaranty for me on that

score.

She went accordingly; but soon returned in tears; being used harshly for

urging this alternative:--They had a right to my obedience upon their

own terms, they said: my proposal was an artifice, only to gain time:

nothing but marrying Mr. Solmes should do: they had told me so before:

they should not be at rest till it was done; for they knew what an

interest Lovelace had in my heart: I had as good as owned it in my

letters to my uncles, and brother and sister, although I had most

disingenuously declared otherwise to my mother. I depended, they said,

upon their indulgence, and my own power over them: they would not

have banished me from their presence, if they had not known that their

consideration for me was greater than mine for them. And they would

be obeyed, or I never should be restored to their favour, let the

consequence be what it would.

My brother thought fit to tell the good woman, that her whining nonsense

did but harden me. There was a perverseness, he said, in female minds, a

tragedy-pride, that would make a romantic young creature, such a one as

me, risque any thing to obtain pity. I was of an age, and a turn [the

insolent said] to be fond of a lover-like distress: and my grief (which

she pleaded) would never break my heart: I should sooner break that of

the best and most indulgent of mothers. He added, that she might once

more go up to me: but that, if she prevailed not, he should suspect,

that the man they all hated had found a way to attach her to his

interest.

Every body blamed him for this unworthy reflection; which greatly

affected the good woman. But nevertheless he said, and nobody

contradicted him, that if she could not prevail upon her sweet child,

[as it seems she had fondly called me,] she had best draw to her own

home, and there tarry till she was sent for; and so leave her sweet

child to her father's management.

Sure nobody had ever so insolent, so hard-hearted a brother, as I have!

So much resignation to be expected from me! So much arrogance, and to so

good a woman, and of so fine an understanding, to be allowed in him.

She nevertheless told him, that however she might be ridiculed for

speaking of the sweetness of my disposition, she must take upon herself

to say, that there never was a sweeter in the sex: and that she had

ever found, that my mild methods, and gentleness, I might at any time be

prevailed upon, even in points against my own judgment and opinion.

My aunt Hervey hereupon said, It was worth while to consider what

Mrs. Norton said: and that she had sometimes allowed herself to doubt,

whether I had been begun with by such methods as generous tempers are

only to be influenced by, in cases where their hearts are supposed to be

opposite to the will of their friends.

She had both my brother and sister upon her for this: who referred to

my mother, whether she had not treated me with an indulgence that had

hardly any example?

My mother said, she must own, that no indulgence had been wanting from

her: but she must needs say, and had often said it, that the reception

I met with on my return from Miss Howe, and the manner in which the

proposal of Mr. Solmes was made to me, (which was such as left nothing

to my choice,) and before I had an opportunity to converse with him,

were not what she had by any means approved of.

She was silenced, you will guess by whom,--with, My dear!--my dear!--You

have ever something to say, something to palliate, for this rebel of a

girl!--Remember her treatment of you, of me!--Remember, that the wretch,

whom we so justly hate, would not dare persist in his purposes, but for

her encouragement of him, and obstinacy to us.--Mrs. Norton, [angrily to

her,] go up to her once more--and if you think gentleness will do, you

have a commission to be gentle--if it will not, never make use of that

plea again.

Ay, my good woman, said my mother, try your force with her. My sister

Hervey and I will go up to her, and bring her down in our hands, to

receive her father's blessing, and assurances of every body's love, if

she will be prevailed upon: and, in that case, we will all love you the

better for your good offices.

She came up to me, and repeated all these passages with tears. But I

told her, that after what had passed between us, she could not hope to

prevail upon me to comply with measures so wholly my brother's, and so

much to my aversion. And then folding me to her maternal bosom, I leave

you, my dearest Miss, said she--I leave you, because I must!--But let me

beseech you to do nothing rashly; nothing unbecoming your character. If

all be true that is said, Mr. Lovelace cannot deserve you. If you can

comply, remember it is your duty to comply. They take not, I own, the

right method with so generous a spirit. But remember, that there would

not be any merit in your compliance, if it were not to be against

your own liking. Remember also, what is expected from a character

so extraordinary as yours: remember, it is in your power to unite or

disunite your whole family for ever. Although it should at present be

disagreeable to you to be thus compelled, your prudence, I dare say,

when you consider the matter seriously, will enable you to get over

all prejudices against the one, and all prepossessions in favour of the

other: and then the obligation you will lay all your family under,

will be not only meritorious in you, with regard to them, but in a few

months, very probably, highly satisfactory, as well as reputable, to

yourself.

Consider, my dear Mrs. Norton, said I, only consider, that it is not a

small thing that is insisted upon; not for a short duration; it is for

my life: consider too, that all this is owing to an overbearing brother,

who governs every body. Consider how desirous I am to oblige them, if

a single life, and breaking all correspondence with the man they hate,

because my brother hates him, will do it.

I consider every thing, my dearest Miss: and, added to what I have said,

do you only consider, that if, by pursuing your own will, and rejecting

theirs, you should be unhappy, you will be deprived of all that

consolation which those have, who have been directed by their parents,

although the event prove not answerable to their wishes.

I must go, repeated she: your brother will say [and she wept] that I

harden you by my whining nonsense. 'Tis indeed hard, that so much

regard should be paid to the humours of one child, and so little to

the inclination of another. But let me repeat, that it is your duty to

acquiesce, if you can acquiesce: your father has given your brother's

schemes his sanction, and they are now his. Mr. Lovelace, I doubt,

is not a man that will justify your choice so much as he will their

dislike. It is easy to see that your brother has a view in discrediting

you with all your friends, with your uncles in particular: but for that

very reason, you should comply, if possible, in order to disconcert his

ungenerous measures. I will pray for you; and that is all I can do for

you. I must now go down, and make a report, that you are resolved never

to have Mr. Solmes--Must I?--Consider, my dear Miss Clary--Must I?

Indeed you must!--But of this I do assure you, that I will do nothing to

disgrace the part you have had in my education. I will bear every thing

that shall be short of forcing my hand into his who never can have any

share in my heart. I will try by patient duty, by humility, to overcome

them. But death will I choose, in any shape, rather than that man.

I dread to go down, said she, with so determined an answer: they will

have no patience with me.--But let me leave you with one observation,

which I beg of you always to bear in mind:--

'That persons of prudence, and distinguished talents, like yours, seem

to be sprinkled through the world, to give credit, by their example, to

religion and virtue. When such persons wilfully err, how great must

be the fault! How ungrateful to that God, who blessed them with such

talents! What a loss likewise to the world! What a wound to virtue!--But

this, I hope, will never be to be said of Miss Clarissa Harlowe!'

I could give her no answer, but by my tears. And I thought, when she

went away, the better half of my heart went with her.

I listened to hear what reception she would meet with below; and found

it was just such a one as she had apprehended.

Will she, or will she not, be Mrs. Solmes? None of your whining

circumlocutions, Mrs. Norton!--[You may guess who said this] Will she,

or will she not, comply with her parents' will?

This cut short all she was going to say.

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 1 · 第 165 / 196 题