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Файл:Clarissa V. The history of a young lady
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CLARISSA • V
neck, bear me, bear me hence! – O my child! my child! my own
Clarissa Harlowe! thou pride of my life so lately! – never, never
more must I behold thee!
I supported the unhappy father, Mrs. Norton the sinking
mother, into the next parlour. She threw herself on a settee
there; he into an elbow-chair by her – the good woman at her
feet, her arms clasped round her waist. The two mothers, I as
may call them, of my beloved cousin, thus tenderly engaged!
What a variety of distress in these woeful scenes!
The unhappy father, in endeavouring to comfort his lady,
loaded himself. Would to God, my dear, said he, would to God
I had no more to charge myself with than you have! – You relented! – you would have prevailed upon me to relent!
The greater my fault, said she, when I knew that displeasure was carried too high, to acquiesce as I did! – What a barbarous parent was I, to let two angry children make me forget
that I was mother to a third – to such a third!
Mrs. Norton used arguments and prayers to comfort
her – O, my dear Norton, answered the unhappy lady, you was
the dear creature’s more natural mother! – Would to Heaven
I had no more to answer for than you have!
Thus the unhappy pair unavailingly recriminated, till my
cousin Hervey entered, and, with Mrs. Norton, conducted up
to her own chamber the inconsolable mother. The two uncles,
and Mr. Hervey, came in at the same time, and prevailed upon
the affl icted father to retire with them to his – both giving up
all thoughts of ever seeing more the child whose death was so
deservedly regretted by them.
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SAMUEL RICHARDSON
Time only, Mr. Belford, can combat with advantage such
a heavy deprivation as this. Advice will not do, while the loss is
recent. Nature will have way given to it, (and so it ought,) till
sorrow has in a manner exhausted itself; and then reason and
religion will come in seasonably with their powerful aids, to
raise the drooping heart.
I see here no face that is the same I saw at my fi rst arrival.
Proud and haughty every countenance then, unyielding to
entreaty; now, how greatly are they humbled! – The utmost
distress is apparent in every protracted feature, and in every bursting muscle, of each disconsolate mourner. Their
eyes, which so lately fl ashed anger and resentment, now are
turned to every one that approaches them, as if imploring
pity! – Could ever wilful hard-heartedness be more severely
punished?
The following lines of Juvenal are, upon the whole applicable to this house and family; and I have revolved them many
times since Sunday evening:
Humani generis mores tibi nôsse volenti
Suffi cit una domus: paucos consumere dies, &
Dicere te miserum, postquam illinc veneris, aude.
Let me add, that Mrs. Norton has communicated to
the family the posthumous letter sent her. This letter affords
a foundation for future consolation to them; but at present
it has new pointed their grief, by making them refl ect on
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CLARISSA • V
their cruelty to so excellent a daughter, niece, and sister.
8
I am, dear Sir,
Your faithful, humble servant, WM. MORDEN.
She expatiates upon the benefi t of affl ictions to a mind
modest, fearful, and diffi dent.
She comforts her on her early death; having fi nished, as she
says, her probatory course, at so early a time of life, when many
are not ripened by the sunshine of Divine Grace for a better,
till they are fi fty, sixty, or seventy years of age.
I hope, she says, that my father will grant the request I have
made to him in my last will, to let you pass the remainder of
your days at my Dairy-house, as it used to be called, where
once I promised myself to be happy in you. Your discretion,
prudence, and economy, my dear, good woman, proceeds she,
will male your presiding over the concerns of that house as
benefi cial to them as it can be convenient to you. For your
sake, my dear Mrs. Norton, I hope they will make you this offer. And if they do, I hope you will accept it for theirs.
She remembers herself to her foster-brother in a very kind
manner; and charges her, for his sake, that she will not take
too much to heart what has befallen her.
8
This letter contains in substance – her thanks to the good
woman for her care of her in her infancy; for her good instructions, and the excellent example she had set her; with self-accusations of a vanity and presumption, which lay lurking in her heart
unknown to herself, till her calamities (obliging her to look into
herself) brought them to light.
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SAMUEL RICHARDSON
She concludes as follows:
Remember me, in the last place, to all my kind well-wishers of your acquaintance; and to those I used to call My Poor.
They will be God’s poor, if they trust in Him. I have taken such
care, that I hope they will not be losers by my death. Bid them,
therefore, rejoice; and do you also, my reverend comforter and
sustainer, (as well in my darker as in my fairer days,) likewise
rejoice, that I am so soon delivered from the evils that were before me; and that I am NOW, when this comes to your hands,
as I humbly trust, exulting in the mercies of a gracious God,
who has conducted an end to all my temptations and distresses; and who, I most humbly trust, will, in his own good time,
give us a joyful meeting in the regions of eternal blessedness.
LETTER XXX
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.
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SAMUEL RICHARDSON
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 fi ne 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
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CLARISSA • V
Clarissa Harlowe’s care to fi nd 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
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SAMUEL RICHARDSON
unworthy of her esteem and confi dence: 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 coffi n-lid, and the devices upon it. Particularly
two gentlemen, muffl ed 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 coffi n, 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 coffi n 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.
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CLARISSA • V
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 coffi n 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 satisfi ed 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 coffi n.
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 fi t 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.
LETTER XXXI
Mr. Belford, to William Morden, Esq.
Saturday, Sept. 16.
DEAR SIR,
I once had thoughts to go down privately, in order, disguised, to see the last solemnity performed. But there was no
need to give myself this melancholy trouble, since your last
letter so naturally describes all that passed, that I have every
scene before my eyes.
You crowd me, Sir, methinks, into the silent slow procession – now with the sacred bier, do I enter the awful porch;
now measure I, with solemn paces, the venerable aisle; now,
ambitious of a relationship to her, placed in a pew near to
the eye-attracting coffi n, do I listen to the moving eulogy;
now, through the buz of gaping, eye-swoln crowds, do I descend into the clammy vault, as a true executor, to see that
part of her will performed with my own eyes. There, with
a soul fi lled with musing, do I number the surrounding monuments of mortality, and contemplate the present stillness of
so many once busy vanities, crowded all into one poor vaulted
nook, as if the living grudged room for the corpse of those
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