Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9)

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Mr. Solmes approached me as soon as I entered, cringing to the ground, a
visible confusion in every feature of his face. After half a dozen
choaked-up Madams,--he was very sorry--he was very much concerned--it was
his misfortune--and there he stopped, being unable presently to complete
a sentence.

This gave me a little more presence of mind. Cowardice in a foe begets
courage in one's self--I see that plainly now--yet perhaps, at bottom,
the new-made bravo is a greater coward than the other.

I turned from him, and seated myself in one of the fireside chairs,
fanning myself. I have since recollected, that I must have looked very
saucily. Could I have had any thoughts of the man, I should have
despised myself for it. But what can be said in the case of an aversion
so perfectly sincere?

He hemmed five or six times, as I had done above; and these produced a
sentence--that I could not but see his confusion. This sentence produced
two or three more. I believe my aunt had been his tutoress; for it was
his awe, his reverence for so superlative a Lady [I assure you!] And he
hoped--he hoped--three times he hoped, before he told me what--at last it
came out, that I was too generous (generosity, he said, was my character)
to despise him for such--for such--for such--true tokens of his love.

I do indeed see you under some confusion, Sir; and this gives me hope,
that although I have been compelled, as I may call it, to give way to
this interview, it may be attended with happier effects than I had
apprehended from it.

He had hemmed himself into more courage.

You could not, Madam, imagine any creature so blind to your merits, and
so little attracted by them, as easily to forego the interest and
approbation he was honoured with by your worthy family, while he had any
hope given him, that one day he might, by his perseverance and zeal,
expect your favour.

I am but too much aware, Sir, that it is upon the interest and
approbation you mention, that you build such hope. It is impossible
otherwise, that a man, who has any regard for his own happiness, would
persevere against such declarations as I have made, and think myself
obliged to make, in justice to you, as well as to myself.

He had seen many instances, he told me, and had heard of more, where
ladies had seemed as averse, and yet had been induced, some by motives of
compassion, others by persuasion of friends, to change their minds; and
had been very happy afterwards: and he hoped this might be the case here.

I have no notion, Sir, of compliment, in an article of such importance as
this: yet I am sorry to be obliged to speak my mind so plainly as I am
going to do.--Know then, that I have invincible objections, Sir, to your
address. I have avowed them with an earnestness that I believe is
without example: and why?--because I believe it is without example that
any young creature, circumstanced as I am, was ever treated as I have
been treated on your account.

It is hoped, Madam, that your consent may in time be obtained--that is
the hope; and I shall be a miserable man if it cannot.

Better, Sir, give me leave to say, you were miserable by yourself, than
that you should make two so.

You may have heard, Madam, things to my disadvantage. No man is without
enemies. Be pleased to let me know what you have heard, and I will
either own my faults, and amend; or I will convince you that I am basely
bespattered: and once I understand you overheard something that I should
say, that gave you offence: unguardedly, perhaps; but nothing but what
shewed my value, and that I would persist so long as I have hope.

I have indeed heard many things to your disadvantage:--and I was far from
being pleased with what I overheard fall from your lips: but as you were
not any thing to me, and never could be, it was not for me to be
concerned about the one or the other.

I am sorry, Madam, to hear this. I am sure you should not tell me of my
fault, that I would be unwilling to correct in myself.

Then, Sir, correct this fault--do not wish to have a young creature
compelled in the most material article of her life, for the sake of
motives she despises; and in behalf of a person she cannot value: one
that has, in her own right, sufficient to set her above all your offers,
and a spirit that craves no more than what it has, to make itself easy
and happy.

I don't see, Madam, how you would be happy, if I were to discontinue my
address: for--

That is nothing to you, Sir, interrupted I: do you but withdraw your
pretensions: and if it will be thought fit to start up another man for my
punishment, the blame will not lie at your door. You will be entitled to
my thanks, and most heartily will I thank you.

He paused, and seemed a little at a loss: and I was going to give him
still stronger and more personal instances of my plain-dealing; when in
came my uncle Antony.

So, Niece, so!--sitting in state like a queen, giving audience! haughty
audience!--Mr. Solmes, why stand you thus humbly?--Why this distance,
man? I hope to see you upon a more intimate footing before we part.

I arose, as soon as he entered--and approached him with a bend knee: Let
me, Sir, reverence my uncle, whom I have not for so long time seen!--Let
me, Sir, bespeak your favour and compassion.

You will have the favour of every body, Niece, when you know how to
deserve it.

If ever I deserved it, I deserve it now.--I have been hardly used!--I
have made proposals that ought to be accepted, and such as would not have
been asked of me. What have I done, that I must be banished and confined
thus disgracefully? that I must not be allowed to have any free-will in
an article that concerns my present and future happiness?--

Miss Clary, replied my uncle, you have had your will in every thing till
now; and this makes your parents' will sit so heavy upon you.

My will, Sir! be pleased to allow me to ask, what was my will till now,
but my father's will, and yours and my uncle Harlowe's will?--Has it not
been my pride to obey and oblige?--I never asked a favour, that I did not
first sit down and consider, if it were fit to be granted. And now, to
shew my obedience, have I not offered to live single?--Have I not offered
to divest myself of my grandfather's bounty, and to cast myself upon my
father's! and that to be withdrawn, whenever I disoblige him? Why, dear,
good Sir, am I to be made unhappy in a point so concerning my happiness?

Your grandfather's estate is not wished from you. You are not desired to
live a single life. You know our motives, and we guess at yours. And,
let me tell you, well as we love you, we should much sooner choose to
follow you to the grave, than that yours should take place.

I will engage never to marry any man, without my father's consent, and
yours, Sir, and every body's. Did I ever give you cause to doubt my
word?--And here I will take the solemnest oath that can be offered me--

That is the matrimonial one, interrupted he, with a big voice--and to
this gentleman.--It shall, it shall, cousin Clary!--And the more you
oppose it, the worse it shall be for you.

This, and before the man, who seemed to assume courage upon it, highly
provoked me.

Then, Sir, you shall sooner follow me to the grave indeed.--I will
undergo the cruelest death--I will even consent to enter into that awful
vault of my ancestors, and have that bricked up upon me, rather than
consent to be miserable for life. And, Mr. Solmes, turning to him, take
notice of what I say: This or any death, I will sooner undergo [that will
quickly be over] than be yours, and for ever unhappy!

My uncle was in a terrible rage upon this. He took Mr. Solmes by the
hand, shocked as the man seemed to be, and drew him to the window--Don't
be surprised, Mr. Solmes, don't be concerned at this. We know, and rapt
out a sad oath, what women will say in their wrath: the wind is not more
boisterous, nor more changeable; and again he swore to that.--If you
think it worthwhile to wait for such an ungrateful girl as this, I'll
engage she'll veer about; I'll engage she shall. And a third time
violently swore to it.

Then coming up to me (who had thrown myself, very much disordered by my
vehemence, into the most distant window) as if he would have beat me; his
face violently working, his hands clinched, and his teeth set--Yes, yes,
yes, you shall, Cousin Clary, be Mr. Solmes's wife; we will see that you
shall; and this in one week at farthest.--And then a fourth time he
confirmed it!--Poor gentleman! how he swore!

I am sorry, Sir, said I, to see you in such a passion. All this, I am
but too sensible, is owing to my brother's instigation; who would not
himself give the instance of duty that is sought to be exacted from me.
It is best for me to withdraw. I shall but provoke you farther, I fear:
for although I would gladly obey you if I could, yet this is a point
determined with me; and I cannot so much as wish to get over it.

How could I avoid making these strong declarations, the man in presence?

I was going out at the door I came in at; the gentlemen looking upon one
another, as if referring to each other what to do, or whether to engage
my stay, or suffer me to go; and whom should I meet at the door but my
brother, who had heard all that had passed!

He bolted upon me so unexpectedly, that I was surprised. He took my
hand, and grasped it with violence: Return, pretty Miss, said he; return,
if you please. You shall not yet be bricked up. Your instigating
brother shall save you from that!--O thou fallen angel, said he, peering
up to my downcast face--such a sweetness here!--and such an obstinacy
there! tapping my neck--O thou true woman--though so young!--But you
shall not have your rake: remember that; in a loud whisper, as if he
would be decently indecent before the man. You shall be redeemed, and
this worthy gentleman, raising his voice, will be so good as to redeem
you from ruin--and hereafter you will bless him, or have reason to bless
him, for his condescension; that was the brutal brother's word!

He had led me up to meet Mr. Solmes, whose hand he took, as he held mine.
Here, Sir, said he, take the rebel daughter's hand: I give it you now:
she shall confirm the gift in a week's time; or will have neither father,
mother, nor uncles, to boast of.

I snatched my hand away.

How now, Miss!--

And how now, Sir!--What right have you to dispose of my hand?--If you
govern every body else, you shall not govern me; especially in a point
so immediately relative to myself, and in which you neither have, nor
ever shall have, any thing to do.

I would have broken from him; but he held my hand too fast.

Let me go, Sir!--Why am I thus treated?--You design, I doubt not, with
your unmanly gripings, to hurt me, as you do: But again I ask, wherefore
is it that I am to be thus treated by you?

He tossed my hand from him with a whirl, that pained my very shoulder. I
wept, and held my other hand to the part.

Mr. Solmes blamed him. So did my uncle.

He had no patience, he said, with such a perverse one; and to think of
the reflections upon himself, before he entered. He had only given me
back the hand I had not deserved he should touch. It was one of my arts
to pretend to be so pained.

Mr. Solmes said, he would sooner give up all his hopes of me, than that I
should be used unkindly.--And he offered to plead in my behalf to them
both; and applied himself with a bow, as if for my approbation of his
interposition.

Interpose not, Mr. Solmes, said I, to save me from my brother's violence.
I cannot wish to owe an obligation to a man whose ungenerous perseverance
is the occasion of that violence, and of all my disgraceful sufferings.

How generous in you, Mr. Solmes, said my brother, to interpose so kindly
in behalf of such an immovable spirit! I beg of you to persist in your
address--the unnatural brother called it address!--For all our family's
sake, and for her sake too, if you love her, persist!--Let us save her,
if possible, from ruining herself. Look at her person! [and he gazed at
me, from head to foot, pointing at me, as he referred to Mr. Solmes,]
think of her fine qualities!--all the world confesses them, and we all
gloried in her till now. She is worth saving; and, after two or three
more struggles, she will be yours, and take my word for it, will reward
your patience. Talk not, therefore, of giving up your hopes, for a
little whining folly. She has entered upon a parade, which she knows not
how to quit with a female grace. You have only her pride and her
obstinacy to encounter: and depend upon it, you will be as happy a man
in a fortnight, as a married man can be.

You have heard me say, my dear, that my brother has always taken a
liberty to reflect upon our sex, and upon matrimony!--He would not, if he
did not think it wit to do so!--Just as poor Mr. Wyerley, and others,
whom we both know, profane and ridicule scripture; and all to evince
their pretensions to the same pernicious talent, and to have it thought
they are too wise to be religious.

Mr. Solmes, with a self-satisfied air, presumptuously said, he would
suffer every thing, to oblige my family, and to save me: and doubted not
to be amply rewarded, could he be so happy as to succeed at last.

Mr. Solmes, said I, if you have any regard for your own happiness, (mine
is out of the question with you, you have not generosity enough to make
that any part of your scheme,) prosecute no father your address, as my
brother calls it. It is but too just to tell you, that I could not bring
my heart so much as to think of you, without the utmost disapprobation,
before I was used as I have been:--And can you think I am such a slave,
such a poor slave, as to be brought to change my mind by the violent
usage I have met with?

And you, Sir, turning to my brother, if you think that meekness always
indicates tameness; and that there is no magnanimity without bluster; own
yourself mistaken for once: for you shall have reason to judge from
henceforth, that a generous mind is not to be forced; and that--

No more, said the imperious wretch, I charge you, lifting up his hands
and eyes. Then turning to my uncle, Do you hear, Sir? this is your once
faultless niece! This is your favourite!

Mr. Solmes looked as if he know not what to think of the matter; and had
I been left alone with him, I saw plainly I could have got rid of him
easily enough.

My uncle came to me, looking up also to my face, and down to my feet: and
is it possible this can be you? All this violence from you, Miss Clary?

Yes, it is possible, Sir--and, I will presume to say, this vehemence on
my side is but the natural consequence of the usage I have met with, and
the rudeness I am treated with, even in your presence, by a brother, who
has no more right to controul me, than I have to controul him.

This usage, cousin Clary, was not till all other means were tried with
you.

Tried! to what end, Sir?--Do I contend for any thing more than a mere
negative? You may, Sir, [turning to Mr. Solmes,] possibly you may be
induced the rather to persevere thus ungenerously, as the usage I have
met with for your sake, and what you have now seen offered to me by my
brother, will shew you what I can bear, were my evil destiny ever to make
me yours.

Lord, Madam, cried Solmes, [all this time distorted into twenty different
attitudes, as my brother and my uncle were blessing themselves, and
speaking only to each other by their eyes, and by their working features;
Lord, Madam,] what a construction is this!

A fair construction, Sir, interrupted I: for he that can see a person,
whom he pretends to value, thus treated, and approve of it, must be
capable of treating her thus himself. And that you do approve of it, is
evident by your declared perseverance, when you know I am confined,
banished, and insulted, in order to make me consent to be what I never
can be: and this, let me tell you, as I have often told others, not from
motives of obstinacy, but aversion.

Excuse me, Sir, turning to my uncle--to you, as to my father's brother, I
owe duty. I beg your pardon, but my brother; he shall not constrain me.
--And [turning to the unnatural wretch--I will call him wretch] knit your
brows, Sir, and frown all you will, I will ask you, would you, in my
case, make the sacrifices I am willing to make, to obtain every one's
favour? If not, what right have you to treat me thus; and to procure me
to be treated as I have been for so long a time past?

I had put myself by this time into great disorder: they were silent, and
seemed by their looks to want to talk to one another (walking about in
violent disorders too) between whiles. I sat down fanning myself, (as it
happened, against the glass,) and I could perceive my colour go and come;
and being sick to the very heart, and apprehensive of fainting, I rung.

Betty came in. I called for a glass of water, and drank it: but nobody
minded me. I heard my brother pronounce the words, Art! Female Art! to
Solmes; which, together with the apprehension that he would not be
welcome, I suppose kept him back. Else I could see the man was affected.
And (still fearing I should faint) I arose, and taking hold of Betty's
arm, let me hold by you, Betty, said I: let me withdraw. And moved with
trembling feet towards the door, and then turned about, and made a
courtesy to my uncle--Permit me, Sir, said I, to withdraw.

Whither go you, Niece? said my uncle: we have not done with you yet. I
charge you depart not. Mr. Solmes has something to open to you, that
will astonish you--and you shall hear it.

Only, Sir, by your leave, for a few minutes into the air. I will return,
if you command it. I will hear all that I am to hear; that it may be
over now and for ever.--You will go with me, Betty?

And so, without any farther prohibition, I retired into the garden; and
there casting myself upon the first seat, and throwing Betty's apron over
my face, leaning against her side, my hands between hers, I gave way to a
violent burst of grief, or passion, or both; which, as it seemed, saved
my heart from breaking, for I was sensible of an immediate relief.

I have already given you specimens of Mrs. Betty's impertinence. I shall
not, therefore, trouble you with more: for the wench, notwithstanding
this my distress, took great liberties with me, after she saw me a little
recovered, and as I walked farther into the garden; insomuch that I was
obliged to silence her by an absolute prohibition of saying another word
to me; and then she dropped behind me sullen and gloomy.

It was near an hour before I was sent for in again. The messenger was my
cousin Dolly Hervey, who, with an eye of compassion and respect, (for
Miss Hervey always loved me, and calls herself my scholar, as you know,)
told my, my company was desired.

Betty left us.

Who commands my attendance, Miss? said I--Have you not been in tears, my
dear?

Who can forbid tears? said she.

Why, what is the matter, cousin Dolly?--Sure, nobody is entitled to weep
in this family, but me!

Yes, I am, Madam, said she, because I love you.

I kissed her: And is it for me, my sweet Cousin, that you shed tears?--
There never was love lost between us: but tell me, what is designed to be
done with me, that I have this kind instance of your compassion for me?

You must take no notice of what I tell you, said the dear girl: but my
mamma has been weeping for you, too, with me; but durst not let any body
see it: O my Dolly, said my mamma, there never was so set a malice in man
as in your cousin James Harlowe. They will ruin the flower and ornament
of their family.

As how, Miss Dolly?--Did she not explain herself?--As how, my dear?

Yes; she said, Mr. Solmes would have given up his claim to you; for he
said, you hated him, and there were no hopes; and your mamma was willing
he should; and to have you taken at your word, to renounce Mr. Lovelace
and to live single. My mamma was for it too; for they heard all that
passed between you and uncle Antony, and cousin James; saying, it was
impossible to think of prevailing upon you to have Mr. Solmes. Uncle
Harlowe seemed in the same way of thinking; at least, my mamma says he
did not say any thing to the contrary. But your papa was immovable, and
was angry at your mamma and mine upon it.--And hereupon your brother,
your sister, and my uncle Antony, joined in, and changed the scene
entirely. In short, she says, that Mr. Solmes had great matters engaged
to him. He owned, that you were the finest young lady in England, and he
would be content to be but little beloved, if he could not, after
marriage, engage your heart, for the sake of having the honour to call
you his but for one twelvemonth--I suppose he would break your heart the
next--for he is a cruel-hearted man, I am sure.

My friends may break my heart, cousin Dolly; but Mr. Solmes will never
have it in his power to break it.

I do not know that, Miss: you will have good luck to avoid having him, by
what I can find; for my mamma says, they are all now of one mind, herself
excepted; and she is forced to be silent, your papa and brother are both
so outrageous.

I am got above minding my brother, cousin Dolly:--he is but my brother.
But to my father I owe duty and obedience, if I could comply.

We are apt to be fond of any body that will side with us, when oppressed
or provoked. I always loved my cousin Dolly; but now she endeared
herself to me ten times more, by her soothing concern for me. I asked
what she would do, were she in my case?

Without hesitation, she replied, have Mr. Lovelace out of hand, and take
up her own estate, if she were me; and there would be an end to it.--And
Mr. Lovelace, she said, was a fine gentleman:--Mr. Solmes was not worthy
to buckle his shoes.

Miss Hervey told me further, that her mother was desired to come to me,
to fetch me in; but she excused herself. I should have all my friends,
she said, she believed, sit in judgment upon me.

I wish it had been so. But, as I have been told since, neither my father
for my mother would trust themselves with seeing me: the one it seems for
passion sake; my mother for tender considerations.

By this time we entered the house. Miss accompanied me into the parlour,
and left me, as a person devoted, I then thought.

Nobody was there. I sat down, and had leisure to weep; reflecting upon
what my cousin Dolly had told me.

They were all in my sister's parlour adjoining: for I heard a confused
mixture of voices, some louder than others, which drowned the more
compassionating accents.

Female accents I could distinguish the drowned ones to be. O my dear!
what a hard-hearted sex is the other! Children of the same parents, how
came they by their cruelty?--Do they get it by travel?--Do they get it by
conversation with one another?--Or how do they get it?--Yet my sister,
too, is as hard-hearted as any of them. But this may be no exception
neither: for she has been thought to be masculine in her air and her
spirit. She has then, perhaps, a soul of the other sex in a body of
ours. And so, for the honour of our own, will I judge of every woman for
the future, who imitating the rougher manners of men, acts unbeseeming
the gentleness of her own sex.

Forgive me, my dear friend, for breaking into my story by these
reflections. Were I rapidly to pursue my narration, without thinking,
without reflecting, I believe I should hardly be able to keep in my right
mind: since vehemence and passion would then be always uppermost; but
while I think as I write, I cool, and my hurry of spirits is allayed.

I believe I was about a quarter of an hour enjoying my own comfortless
contemplations, before any body came in to me; for they seemed to be in
full debate. My aunt looked in first; O my dear, said she, are you
there? and withdrew hastily to apprize them of it.

And then (as agreed upon I suppose) in came my uncle Antony, crediting
Mr. Solmes with the words, Let me lead you in, my dear friend, having
hold of his hand; while the new-made beau awkwardly followed, but more
edgingly, as I may say, setting his feet mincingly, to avoid treading
upon his leader's heels. Excuse me, my dear, this seeming levity; but
those we do not love, appear in every thing ungraceful to us.

I stood up. My uncle looked very surly.--Sit down!--Sit down, Girl, said
he.--And drawing a chair near me, he placed his dear friend in it,
whether he would or not, I having taken my seat. And my uncle sat on the
other side of me.

Well, Niece, taking my hand, we shall have very little more to say to you
than we have already said, as to the subject that is so distasteful to
you--unless, indeed, you have better considered of the matter--And first
let me know if you have?

The matter wants no consideration, Sir.

Very well, very well, Madam! said my uncle, withdrawing his hands from
mine: Could I ever have thought of this from you?

For God's sake, dearest Madam, said Mr. Solmes, folding his hands--And
there he stopped.

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