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diff --git a/10462-h/10462-h.htm b/10462-h/10462-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c875e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/10462-h/10462-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13681 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Clarissa Harlowe, Vol. 4 (of 9) by Samuel Richardson + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10462 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <h3> + or the + </h3> + <h1> + HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Samuel Richardson + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + Nine Volumes<br /> Volume IV. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_TOC"> DETAILED CONTENTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> LETTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> LETTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LETTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> LETTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LETTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> LETTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LETTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LETTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> LETTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> LETTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> LETTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> LETTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> LETTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> LETTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LETTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> LETTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> LETTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> LETTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> LETTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> LETTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> LETTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> LETTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> LETTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> LETTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> LETTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> LETTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> LETTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> LETTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> LETTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> LETTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> LETTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> LETTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> LETTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> LETTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> LETTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> LETTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LETTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> LETTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> LETTER XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> LETTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> LETTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> LETTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> LETTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> LETTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> LETTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> LETTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> LETTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> LETTER XLIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> LETTER L </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> LETTER LI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> LETTER LII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> LETTER LIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> LETTER LIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> LETTER LV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>DETAILED CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> LETTER I. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Likes her lodgings; + but not greatly the widow. Chides Miss Howe for her <br /> rash, though + friendly vow. Catalogue of good books she finds in her <br /> closet. + Utterly dissatisfied with him for giving out to the women below <br /> that + they were privately married. Has a strong debate with him on this <br /> + subject. He offers matrimony to her, but in such a manner that she could + <br /> not close with his offer. Her caution as to doors, windows, and + seals of <br /> letters. <br /> LETTER II. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— + <br /> Her expedient to correspond with each other every day. Is glad she + had <br /> thoughts of marrying him had he repeated his offer. Wonders he + did not. <br /> LETTER III. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Breakfasts + with him and the widow, and her two nieces. Observations upon <br /> their + behaviour and looks. He makes a merit of leaving her, and hopes, <br /> ON + HIS RETURN, that she will name his happy day. She is willing to make <br /> + the best constructions in his favour. <br /> In his next letter (extracts + from which are only given) he triumphs on <br /> the points he has carried. + Stimulated by the women, he resumes his <br /> resolution to try her to the + utmost. <br /> LETTER IV. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Lovelace + returns the next day. She thinks herself meanly treated, and is <br /> + angry. He again urges marriage; but before she can return his answer <br /> + makes another proposal; yet she suspects not that he means a studied <br /> + delay. He is in treaty for Mrs. Fretchville's house. Description of it. + <br /> An inviting opportunity offers for him to propose matrimony to her. + She <br /> wonders he let it slip. He is very urgent for her company at a + collation <br /> he is to give to four of his select friends, and Miss + Partington. He <br /> gives an account who Miss Partington is. <br /> In Mr. + Lovelace's next letter he invites Belford, Mowbray, Belton, and <br /> + Tourville, to his collation. His humourous instructions for their <br /> + behaviour before the lady. Has two views in getting her into their <br /> + company. <br /> LETTER V. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Has been at + church with Clarissa. The sabbath a charming institution. <br /> The text + startles him. Nathan the prophet he calls a good ingenious <br /> fellow. + She likes the women better than she did at first. She <br /> reluctantly + consents to honour his collation with her presence. Longs <br /> to have + their opinions of his fair prize. Describes her to great <br /> advantage. + <br /> LETTER VI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> She praises his good + behaviour at St. Paul's. Is prevailed on to dine <br /> with Mrs. Sinclair + and her nieces. Is better pleased with them than she <br /> thought she + should be. Blames herself for her readiness to censure, <br /> where + reputation is concerned. Her charitable allowances on this head. <br /> + This day an agreeable day. Interprets ever thing she can fairly <br /> + interpret in Mr. Lovelace's favour. She could prefer him to all the men + <br /> she ever knew, if he would always be what he had been that day. Is + <br /> determined, as much as possible, by true merit, and by deeds. Dates + <br /> again, and is offended at Miss Partington's being introduced to her, + and <br /> at his making her yield to be present at his intended collation. + <br /> LETTER VII. From the same.— <br /> Disgusted wit her evening. + Characterizes his four companions. Likes not <br /> Miss Partington's + behaviour. <br /> LETTER VIII. From the same.— <br /> An attempt to + induce her to admit Miss Partington to a share in her bed <br /> for that + night. She refuses. Her reasons. Is highly dissatisfied. <br /> LETTER IX. + From the same.— <br /> Has received an angry letter from Mrs. Howe, + forbidding her to correspond <br /> with her daughter. She advises + compliance, though against herself; and, <br /> to induce her to it, makes + the best of her present prospects. <br /> LETTER X. Miss Howe. In answer.— + <br /> Flames out upon this step of her mother. Insists upon continuing the + <br /> correspondence. Her menaces if Clarissa write not. Raves against + <br /> Lovelace. But blames her for not obliging Miss Partington: and why. + <br /> Advises her to think of settlements. Likes Lovelace's proposal of + Mrs. <br /> Fretchville's house. <br /> LETTER XI. Clarissa. In reply.— + <br /> Terrified at her menaces, she promises to continue writing. + Beseeches <br /> her to learn to subdue her passions. Has just received her + clothes. <br /> LETTER XII. Mr. Hickman to Clarissa.— <br /> Miss + Howe, he tells her, is uneasy for the vexation she has given her. <br /> If + she will write on as before, Miss Howe will not think of doing what <br /> + she is so apprehensive of. He offers her his most faithful services. <br /> + LETTER XIII. XIV. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Tells him how much the + lady dislikes the confraternity; Belford as well <br /> as the rest. Has a + warm debate with her in her behalf. Looks upon her <br /> refusing a share + in her bed to Miss Partington as suspecting and defying <br /> him. + Threatens her.—Savagely glories in her grief, on receiving Miss + <br /> Howe's prohibitory letter: which appears to be instigated by + himself. <br /> LETTER XV. Belford to Lovelace.— <br /> His and his + compeer's high admiration of Clarissa. They all join to <br /> entreat him + to do her justice. <br /> LETTER XVI. XVII. Lovelace. In answer.— + <br /> He endeavours to palliate his purposes by familiar instances of + cruelty <br /> to birds, &c.—Farther characteristic reasonings in + support of his wicked <br /> designs. The passive condition to which he + wants to bring the lady. <br /> LETTER XVIII. Belford. In reply.— + <br /> Still warmly argues in behalf of the lady. Is obliged to attend a + dying <br /> uncle: and entreats him to write from time to time an account + of all his <br /> proceedings. <br /> LETTER XIX. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— + <br /> Lovelace, she says, complains of the reserves he gives occasion for. + His <br /> pride a dirty low pride, which has eaten up his prudence. He is + sunk in <br /> her opinion. An afflicting letter sent her from her cousin + Morden. <br /> Encloses the letter. In which her cousin (swayed by the + representations <br /> of her brother) pleads in behalf of Solmes, and the + family-views; and <br /> sets before her, in strong and just lights, the + character of a libertine. <br /> Her heavy reflections upon the contents. + Her generous prayer. <br /> LETTER XX. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> + He presses her to go abroad with him; yet mentions not the ceremony that + <br /> should give propriety to his urgency. Cannot bear the life she + lives. <br /> Wishes her uncle Harlowe to be sounded by Mr. Hickman, as to + a <br /> reconciliation. Mennell introduced to her. Will not take another + step <br /> with Lovelace till she know the success of the proposed + application to <br /> her uncle. <br /> Substance of two letters from + Lovelace to Belford; in which he tells him <br /> who Mennell is, and gives + an account of many new contrivances and <br /> precautions. Women's pockets + ballast-bags. Mrs. Sinclair's wardrobe. <br /> Good order observed in her + house. The lady's caution, he says, warrants <br /> his contrivances. <br /> + LETTER XXI. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Will write a play. The title + of it, The Quarrelsome Lovers. <br /> Perseverance his glory; patience his + hand-maid. Attempts to get a letter <br /> the lady had dropt as she sat. + Her high indignation upon it. Farther <br /> plots. Paul Wheatly, who; and + for what employed. Sally Martin's <br /> reproaches. Has overplotted + himself. Human nature a well-known rogue. <br /> LETTER XXII. Clarissa to + Miss Howe.— <br /> Acquaints her with their present quarrel. Finds it + imprudent to stay <br /> with him. Re-urges the application to her uncle. + Cautions her sex with <br /> regard to the danger of being misled by the + eye. <br /> LETTER XXIII. Miss Howe. In answer.— <br /> Approves of + her leaving Lovelace. New stories of his wickedness. Will <br /> have her + uncle sounded. Comforts her. How much her case differs from <br /> that of + any other female fugitive. She will be an example, as well as a <br /> + warning. A picture of Clarissa's happiness before she knew Lovelace. <br /> + Brief sketches of her exalted character. Adversity her shining time. <br /> + LETTER XXIV. Clarissa. In reply.— <br /> Has a contest with Lovelace + about going to church. He obliges her again <br /> to accept of his company + to St. Paul's. <br /> LETTER XXV. Miss Howe to Mrs. Norton.— <br /> + Desiring her to try to dispose Mrs. Harlowe to forward a reconciliation. + <br /> LETTER XXVI. Mrs. Norton. In answer. <br /> LETTER XXVII. Miss Howe. + In reply. <br /> LETTER XXVIII. Mrs. Harlowe's pathetic letter to Mrs. + Norton. <br /> LETTER XXIX. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— <br /> Fruitless + issue of Mr. Hickman's application to her uncle. Advises her <br /> how to + proceed with, and what to say to, Lovelace. Endeavours to account <br /> + for his teasing ways. Who knows, she says, but her dear friend was <br /> + permitted to swerve, in order to bring about his reformation? Informs + <br /> her of her uncle Antony's intended address to her mother. <br /> + LETTER XXX. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Hard fate to be thrown + upon an ungenerous and cruel man. Reasons why she <br /> cannot proceed + with Mr. Lovelace as she advises. Affecting apostrophe to <br /> Lovelace. + <br /> LETTER XXXI. From the same.— <br /> Interesting conversation + with Lovelace. He frightens her. He mentions <br /> settlements. Her modest + encouragements of him. He evades. True <br /> generosity what. She requires + his proposals of settlements in writing. <br /> Examines herself on her + whole conduct to Lovelace. Maidenly niceness not <br /> her motive for the + distance she has kept him at. What is. Invites her <br /> correction if she + deceive herself. <br /> LETTER XXXII. From the same.— <br /> With Mr. + Lovelace's written proposals. Her observations on the cold <br /> + conclusion of them. He knows not what every wise man knows, of the <br /> + prudence and delicacy required in a wife. <br /> LETTER XXXIII. From the + same.— <br /> Mr. Lovelace presses for the day; yet makes a proposal + which must <br /> necessarily occasion a delay. Her unreserved and pathetic + answer to it. <br /> He is affected by it. She rejoices that he is + penetrable. He presses <br /> for her instant resolution; but at the same + time insinuates delay. <br /> Seeing her displeased, he urges for the + morrow: but, before she can <br /> answer, gives her the alternative of + other days. Yet, wanting to reward <br /> himself, as if he had obliged + her, she repulses him on a liberty he would <br /> have taken. He is + enraged. Her melancholy reflections on her future <br /> prospects with + such a man. The moral she deduces from her story. [A <br /> note, defending + her conduct from the censure which passed upon her as <br /> over nice.] + <br /> Extracts from four of his letters: in which he glories in his + cruelty. <br /> Hardheartedness he owns to be an essential of the libertine + character. <br /> Enjoys the confusion of a fine woman. His apostrophe to + virtue. Ashamed <br /> of being visibly affected. Enraged against her for + repulsing him. Will <br /> steel his own heart, that he may cut through a + rock of ice to her's. The <br /> women afresh instigate him to attempt her + virtue. <br /> LETTER XXXIV. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— <br /> Is enraged + at his delays. Will think of some scheme to get her out of <br /> his + hands. Has no notion that he can or dare to mean her dishonour. <br /> + Women do not naturally hate such men as Lovelace. <br /> LETTER XXXV. + Belford to Lovelace.— <br /> Warmly espouses the lady's cause. + Nothing but vanity and nonsense in the <br /> wild pursuits of libertines. + For his own sake, for his family's sake, <br /> and for the sake of their + common humanity, he beseeches him to do this <br /> lady justice. <br /> + LETTER XXXVI. Lord M. to Mr. Belford.— <br /> A proverbial letter in + the lady's favour. <br /> LETTER XXXVII. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> + He ludicrously turns Belford's arguments against him. Resistance <br /> + inflames him. Why the gallant is preferred to the husband. Gives a piece + <br /> of advice to married women. Substance of his letter to Lord M. + desiring <br /> him to give the lady to him in person. His view in this + letter. <br /> Ridicules Lord M. for his proverbs. Ludicrous advice to + Belford in <br /> relation to his dying uncle. What physicians should do + when a patient is <br /> given over. <br /> LETTER XXXVIII. Belford to + Lovelace.— <br /> Sets forth the folly, the inconvenience, the + impolicy of KEEPING, and the <br /> preference of MARRIAGE, upon the foot + of their own principles, as <br /> libertines. <br /> LETTER XXXIX. Lovelace + to Belford.— <br /> Affects to mistake the intention of Belford's + letter, and thanks him for <br /> approving his present scheme. The + seduction progress is more delightful <br /> to him, he says, than the + crowning act. <br /> LETTER XL. From the same.— <br /> All extremely + happy at present. Contrives a conversation for the lady to <br /> overhear. + Platonic love, how it generally ends. Will get her to a play; <br /> likes + not tragedies. Has too much feeling. Why men of his cast prefer <br /> + comedy to tragedy. The nymphs, and Mrs. Sinclair, and all their <br /> + acquaintances, of the same mind. Other artifices of his. Could he have + <br /> been admitted in her hours of dishabille and heedlessness, he had + been <br /> long ago master of his wishes. His view in getting her to a + play: a <br /> play, and a collation afterwards, greatly befriend a lover's + designs; and <br /> why. She consents to go with him to see the tragedy of + Venice Preserved. <br /> LETTER XLI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> + Gives the particulars of the overheard conversation. Thinks her <br /> + prospects a little mended. Is willing to compound for tolerable <br /> + appearances, and to hope, when reason for hope offers. <br /> LETTER XLII. + Miss Howe to Clarissa.— <br /> Her scheme of Mrs. Townsend. Is not + for encouraging dealers in <br /> prohibited goods; and why. Her humourous + treatment of Hickman on <br /> consulting him upon Lovelace's proposals of + settlements. <br /> LETTER XLIII. From the same.— <br /> Her account + of Antony Harlowe's address to her mother, and of what passed <br /> on her + mother's communicating it to her. Copy of Mrs. Howe's answer to <br /> his + letter. <br /> LETTER XLIV. XLV. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Comes at + several letters of Miss Howe. He is now more assured of <br /> Clarissa + than ever; and why. Sparkling eyes, what they indicate. She <br /> keeps + him at distance. Repeated instigations from the women. Account of <br /> + the letters he has come at. All rage and revenge upon the contents of + <br /> them. Menaces Hickman. Wishes Miss Howe had come up to town, as she + <br /> threatened. <br /> LETTER XLVI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.—Is + terrified by him. Disclaims <br /> prudery. Begs of Miss Howe to perfect + her scheme, that she may leave <br /> him. She thinks her temper changed + for the worse. Trembles to look back <br /> upon his encroachments. Is + afraid, on the close self-examination which <br /> her calamities have + caused her to make, that even in the best actions of <br /> her past life + she has not been quite free from secret pride, &c. Tears <br /> almost + in two the answer she had written to his proposals. Intends to go <br /> + out next day, and not to return. Her farther intentions. <br /> LETTER + XLVII. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Meets the lady at breakfast. + Flings the tea-cup and saucer over his <br /> head. The occasion. Alarms + and terrifies her by his free address. <br /> Romping, the use of it by a + lover. Will try if she will not yield to <br /> nightly surprises. A + lion-hearted lady where her honour is concerned. <br /> Must have recourse + to his master-strokes. Fable of the sun and north <br /> wind. Mrs. + Fretchville's house an embarrass. He gives that pretended <br /> lady the + small-pox. Other contrivances in his head to bring Clarissa <br /> back, if + she should get away. Miss Howe's scheme of Mrs. Townsend is, he <br /> + says, a sword hanging over his head. He must change his measures to <br /> + render it abortive. He is of the true lady-make. What that is. Another + <br /> conversation between them. Her apostrophe to her father. He is <br /> + temporarily moved. Dorcas gives him notice of a paper she has come at, + <br /> and is transcribing. In order to detain the lady, he presses for the + <br /> day. Miss Howe he fancies in love with him; and why. He sees + Clarissa <br /> does not hate him. <br /> LETTER XLVIII. From the same.— + <br /> Copy of the transcribed paper. It proves to be her torn answer to + his <br /> proposals. Meekness the glory of a woman. Ludicrous image of a + <br /> termagant wife. He had better never to have seen this paper. Has + very <br /> strong remorses. Paints them in lively colours. Sets forth the + lady's <br /> transcendent virtue, and greatness of mind. Surprised into + these <br /> arguments in her favour by his conscience. Puts it to flight. + <br /> LETTER XLIX. From the same.— <br /> Mennell scruples to aid him + farther in his designs. Vapourish people <br /> the physical tribe's + milch-cows. Advice to the faculty. Has done with <br /> the project about + Mrs. Fretchville's house. The lady suspects him. A <br /> seasonable letter + for him from his cousin Charlotte. Sends up the letter <br /> to the lady. + She writes to Miss Howe, upon perusing it, to suspend for <br /> the + present her application to Mrs. Townsend. <br /> LETTER L. From the same.— + <br /> An interview all placid and agreeable. Now is he in a train. All he + now <br /> waits for is a letter from Lord M. Inquires after their marriage + by a <br /> stranger of good appearance. The lady alarmed at them. <br /> + LETTER LI. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Curses his uncle for another + proverbial letter he has sent him. Permits <br /> the lady to see it. Nine + women in ten that fall, fall, he says, through <br /> their own fault. + <br /> LETTER LII. Lord M.'s characteristic letter. <br /> LETTER LIII. + Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> The lady now comes to him at the first + word. Triumphs in her sweetness <br /> of temper, and on her patience with + him. Puts his writings into <br /> counsellor Williams's hands, to prepare + settlements. Shall now be doubly <br /> armed. Boasts of his contrivances + in petto. Brings patterns to her. <br /> Proposes jewels. Admires her for + her prudence with regard to what he <br /> puts her upon doing for her + Norton. What his wife must do and be. She <br /> declines a public wedding. + Her dutiful reasons. She is willing to <br /> dispense with Lord M.'s + presence. He writes to Lord M. accordingly. <br /> Extract from a letter + from Clarissa.— <br /> After giving Miss Howe an account of the + present favourable appearances, <br /> she desires her to keep herself all + such of the particulars which she has <br /> communicated to her as may + discredit Mr. Lovelace. <br /> LETTER LIV. Lovelace to Belford.— + <br /> His projected plot to revenge himself upon Miss Howe. <br /> LETTER + LV. From the same.— <br /> Fresh contrivances crowd in upon him. He + shall be very sick on the <br /> morrow; and why. Women below impertinently + reproachful. He will be no <br /> man's successor. Will not take up with + harlots.—History of the French <br /> marquis. <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <h3> + VOLUME FOUR + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER I + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, APRIL 26. + </p> + <p> + At length, my dearest Miss Howe, I am in London, and in my new lodgings. + They are neatly furnished, and the situation, for the town, is pleasant. + </p> + <p> + But I think you must not ask me how I like the old gentlewoman. Yet she + seems courteous and obliging.—Her kinswomen just appeared to welcome + me at my alighting. They seemed to be genteel young women. But more of + their aunt and them, as I shall see more. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sorlings has an uncle at Barnet, whom she found so very ill, that her + uneasiness, on that account, (having large expectations from him,) made me + comply with her desire to stay with him. Yet I wished, as her uncle did + not expect her, that she would see me settled in London; and Mr. Lovelace + was still more earnest that she would, offering to send her back again in + a day or two, and urging that her uncle's malady threatened not a sudden + change. But leaving the matter to her choice, after she knew what would + have been mine, she made me not the expected compliment. Mr. Lovelace, + however, made her a handsome present at parting. + </p> + <p> + His genteel spirit, on all occasions, makes me often wish him more + consistent. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he arrived, I took possession of my apartment. I shall make + good use of the light closet in it, if I stay here any time. + </p> + <p> + One of his attendants returns in the morning to The Lawn; and I made + writing to you by him an excuse for my retiring. + </p> + <p> + And now give me leave to chide you, my dearest friend, for your rash, and + I hope revocable resolution not to make Mr. Hickman the happiest man in + the world, while my happiness is in suspense. Suppose I were to be + unhappy, what, my dear, would this resolution of yours avail me? Marriage + is the highest state of friendship: if happy, it lessens our cares, by + dividing them, at the same time that it doubles our pleasures by a mutual + participation. Why, my dear, if you love me, will you not rather give + another friend to one who has not two she is sure of? Had you married on + your mother's last birth-day, as she would have had you, I should not, I + dare say, have wanted a refuge; that would have saved me many + mortifications, and much disgrace. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Here I was broke in upon by Mr. Lovelace; introducing the widow leading in + a kinswoman of her's to attend me, if I approved of her, till my Hannah + should come, or till I had provided myself with some other servant. The + widow gave her many good qualities; but said, that she had one great + defect; which was, that she could not write, nor read writing; that part + of her education having been neglected when she was young; but for + discretion, fidelity, obligingness, she was not to be out-done by any + body. So commented her likewise for her skill at the needle. + </p> + <p> + As for her defect, I can easily forgive that. She is very likely and + genteel—too genteel indeed, I think, for a servant. But what I like + least of all in her, she has a strange sly eye. I never saw such an eye; + half-confident, I think. But indeed Mrs. Sinclair herself, (for that is + the widow's name,) has an odd winking eye; and her respectfulness seems + too much studied, methinks, for the London ease and freedom. But people + can't help their looks, you know; and after all she is extremely civil and + obliging,—and as for the young woman, (Dorcas is her name,) she will + not be long with me. + </p> + <p> + I accepted her: How could I do otherwise, (if I had had a mind to make + objections, which, in my present situation, I had not,) her aunt present, + and the young woman also present; and Mr. Lovelace officious in his + introducing them, to oblige me? But, upon their leaving me, I told him, + (who seemed inclinable to begin a conversation with me,) that I desired + that this apartment might be considered as my retirement: that when I saw + him it might be in the dining-room, (which is up a few stairs; for this + back-house, being once two, the rooms do not all of them very conveniently + communicate with each other,) and that I might be as little broken in upon + as possible, when I am here. He withdrew very respectfully to the door, + but there stopt; and asked for my company then in the dining-room. If he + were about setting out for other lodgings, I would go with him now, I told + him; but, if he did not just then go, I would first finish my letter to + Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + I see he has no mind to leave me if he can help it. My brother's scheme + may give him a pretence to try to engage me to dispense with his promise. + But if I now do I must acquit him of it entirely. + </p> + <p> + My approbation of his tender behaviour in the midst of my grief, has given + him a right, as he seems to think, of addressing me with all the freedom + of an approved lover. I see by this man, that when once a woman embarks + with this sex, there is no receding. One concession is but the prelude to + another with them. He has been ever since Sunday last continually + complaining of the distance I keep him at; and thinks himself entitled now + to call in question my value for him; strengthening his doubts by my + former declared readiness to give him up to a reconciliation with my + friends; and yet has himself fallen off from that obsequious tenderness, + if I may couple the words, which drew from me the concessions he builds + upon. + </p> + <p> + While we were talking at the door, my new servant came up with an + invitation to us both to tea. I said he might accept of it, if he pleased: + but I must pursue my writing; and not choosing either tea or supper, I + desired him to make my excuses below, as to both; and inform them of my + choice to be retired as much as possible; yet to promise for me my + attendance on the widow and her nieces at breakfast in the morning. + </p> + <p> + He objected particularly in the eye of strangers as to avoiding supper. + </p> + <p> + You know, said I, and you can tell them, that I seldom eat suppers. My + spirits are low. You must never urge me against a declared choice. Pray, + Mr. Lovelace, inform them of all my particularities. If they are obliging, + they will allow for them—I come not hither to make new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + I have turned over the books I found in my closet; and am not a little + pleased with them; and think the better of the people of the house for + their sakes. + </p> + <p> + Stanhope's Gospels; Sharp's, Tillotson's, and South's Sermons; Nelson's + Feasts and Fasts; a Sacramental Piece of the Bishop of Man, and another of + Dr. Gauden, Bishop of Exeter; and Inett's Devotions, are among the devout + books:—and among those of a lighter turn, the following not ill- + chosen ones: A Telemachus, in French; another in English; Steel's, Rowe's, + and Shakespeare's Plays; that genteel Comedy of Mr. Cibber, The Careless + Husband, and others of the same author; Dryden's Miscellanies; the + Tatlers, Spectators, and Guardians; Pope's, and Swift's, and Addison's + Works. + </p> + <p> + In the blank leaves of the Nelson and Bishop Gauden, is Mrs. Sinclair's + name; and in those of most of the others, either Sarah Martin, or Mary + Horton, the names of the two nieces. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace: and have great reason to + be so, as you will allow, when you have read the conversation I am going + to give you an account of; for he would not let me rest till I gave him my + company in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + He began with letting me know, that he had been out to inquire after the + character of the widow, which was the more necessary, he said, as he + supposed that I would expect his frequent absence. + </p> + <p> + I did, I said; and that he would not think of taking up his lodging in the + same house with me. But what, said I, is the result of your inquiry? + </p> + <p> + Why, indeed, the widow's character was, in the main, what he liked well + enough. But as it was Miss Howe's opinion, as I had told him, that my + brother had not given over his scheme; as the widow lived by letting + lodgings, and had others to let in the same part of the house, which might + be taken by an enemy; he knew no better way than for him to take them all, + as it could not be for a long time, unless I would think of removing to + others. + </p> + <p> + So far was well enough. But as it was easy for me to see, that he spoke + the slighter of the widow, in order to have a pretence to lodge here + himself, I asked him his intention in that respect. And he frankly owned, + that if I chose to stay here, he could not, as matters stood, think of + leaving me for six hours together; and he had prepared the widow to + expect, that we should be here but for a few days; only till we could fix + ourselves in a house suitable to our condition; and this, that I might be + under the less embarrassment, if I pleased to remove. + </p> + <p> + Fix our-selves in a house, and we, and our, Mr. Lovelace—Pray, in + what light— + </p> + <p> + He interrupted me—Why, my dearest life, if you will hear me with + patience—yet, I am half afraid that I have been too forward, as I + have not consulted you upon it—but as my friends in town, according + to what Mr. Doleman has written, in the letter you have seen, conclude us + to be married— + </p> + <p> + Surely, Sir, you have not presumed— + </p> + <p> + Hear me out, my dearest creature—you have received with favour, my + addresses: you have made me hope for the honour of your consenting hand: + yet, by declining my most fervent tender of myself to you at Mrs. + Sorlings's, have given me apprehensions of delay: I would not for the + world be thought so ungenerous a wretch, now you have honoured me with + your confidence, as to wish to precipitate you. Yet your brother's schemes + are not given up. Singleton, I am afraid, is actually in town; his vessel + lies at Rotherhithe—your brother is absent from Harlowe- place; + indeed not with Singleton yet, as I can hear. If you are known to be mine, + or if you are but thought to be so, there will probably be an end of your + brother's contrivances. The widow's character may be as worthy as it is + said to be. But the worthier she is, the more danger, if your brother's + agent should find us out; since she may be persuaded, that she ought in + conscience to take a parent's part against a child who stands in + opposition to them. But if she believes us married, her good character + will stand us instead, and give her a reason why two apartments are + requisite for us at the hour of retirement. + </p> + <p> + I perfectly raved at him. I would have flung from him in resentment; but + he would not let me: and what could I do? Whither go, the evening + advanced? + </p> + <p> + I am astonished at you! said I.—If you are a man of honour, what + need of all this strange obliquity? You delight in crooked ways—let + me know, since I must stay in your company (for he held my hand), let me + know all you have said to the people below.—Indeed, indeed, Mr. + Lovelace, you are a very unaccountable man. + </p> + <p> + My dearest creature, need I to have mentioned any thing of this? and could + I not have taken up my lodgings in this house unknown to you, if I had not + intended to make you the judge of all my proceedings?—But this is + what I have told the widow before her kinswomen, and before your new + servant—'That indeed we were privately married at Hertford; but that + you had preliminarily bound me under a solemn vow, which I am most + religiously resolved to keep, to be contented with separate apartments, + and even not to lodge under the same roof, till a certain reconciliation + shall take place, which is of high consequence to both.' And further that + I might convince you of the purity of my intentions, and that my whole + view in this was to prevent mischief, I have acquainted them, 'that I have + solemnly promised to behave to you before every body, as if we were only + betrothed, and not married; not even offering to take any of those + innocent freedoms which are not refused in the most punctilious loves.' + </p> + <p> + And then he solemnly vowed to me the strictest observance of the same + respectful behaviour to me. + </p> + <p> + I said, that I was not by any means satisfied with the tale he had told, + nor with the necessity he wanted to lay me under of appearing what I was + not: that every step he took was a wry one, a needless wry one: and since + he thought it necessary to tell the people below any thing about me, I + insisted that he should unsay all he had said, and tell them the truth. + </p> + <p> + What he had told them, he said, was with so many circumstances, that he + could sooner die than contradict it. And still he insisted upon the + propriety of appearing to be married, for the reasons he had given before—And, + dearest creature, said he, why this high displeasure with me upon so + well-intended an expedient? You know, that I cannot wish to shun your + brother, or his Singleton, but upon your account. The first step I would + take, if left to myself, would be to find them out. I have always acted in + this manner, when any body has presumed to give out threatenings against + it. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis true I would have consulted you first, and had your leave. But since + you dislike what I have said, let me implore you, dearest Madam, to give + the only proper sanction to it, by naming an early day. Would to Heaven + that were to be to-morrow!—For God's sake, let it be to-morrow! But, + if not, [was it his business, my dear, before I spoke (yet he seemed to be + afraid of me) to say, if not?] let me beseech you, Madam, if my behaviour + shall not be to your dislike, that you will not to-morrow, at + breakfast-time, discredit what I have told them. The moment I give you + cause to think that I take any advantage of your concession, that moment + revoke it, and expose me, as I shall deserve.—And once more, let me + remind you, that I have no view either to serve or save myself by this + expedient. It is only to prevent a probable mischief, for your own mind's + sake; and for the sake of those who deserve not the least consideration + from me. + </p> + <p> + What could I say? What could I do?—I verily think, that had he urged + me again, in a proper manner, I should have consented (little satisfied as + I am with him) to give him a meeting to-morrow morning at a more solemn + place than in the parlour below. + </p> + <p> + But this I resolve, that he shall not have my consent to stay a night + under this roof. He has now given me a stronger reason for this + determination than I had before. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Alas! my dear, how vain a thing to say, what we will, or what we will not + do, when we have put ourselves into the power of this sex!—He went + down to the people below, on my desiring to be left to myself; and staid + till their supper was just ready; and then, desiring a moment's audience, + as he called it, he besought my leave to stay that one night, promising to + set out either for Lord M.'s, or for Edgeware, to his friend Belford's, in + the morning, after breakfast. But if I were against it, he said, he would + not stay supper; and would attend me about eight next day—yet he + added, that my denial would have a very particular appearance to the + people below, from what he had told them; and the more, as he had actually + agreed for all the vacant apartments, (indeed only for a month,) for the + reasons he before hinted at: but I need not stay here two days, if, upon + conversing with the widow and her nieces in the morning, I should have any + dislike to them. + </p> + <p> + I thought, notwithstanding my resolution above-mentioned, that it would + seem too punctilious to deny him, under the circumstances he had + mentioned: having, besides, no reason to think he would obey me; for he + looked as if he were determined to debate the matter with me. And now, as + I see no likelihood of a reconciliation with my friends, and as I have + actually received his addresses, I thought I would not quarrel with him, + if I could help it, especially as he asked to stay but for one night, and + could have done so without my knowing it; and you being of opinion, that + the proud wretch, distrusting his own merits with me, or at least my + regard for him, will probably bring me to some concessions in his favour + —for all these reasons, I thought proper to yield this point: yet I + was so vexed with him on the other, that it was impossible for me to + comply with that grace which a concession should be made with, or not made + at all. + </p> + <p> + This was what I said—What you will do, you must do, I think. You are + very ready to promise; very ready to depart from your promise. You say, + however, that you will set out to-morrow for the country. You know how ill + I have been. I am not well enough now to debate with you upon your + encroaching ways. I am utterly dissatisfied with the tale you have told + below. Nor will I promise to appear to the people of the house to-morrow + what I am not. + </p> + <p> + He withdrew in the most respectful manner, beseeching me only to favour + him with such a meeting in the morning as might not make the widow and her + nieces think he had given me reason to be offended with him. + </p> + <p> + I retired to my own apartment, and Dorcas came to me soon after to take my + commands. I told her, that I required very little attendance, and always + dressed and undressed myself. + </p> + <p> + She seemed concerned, as if she thought I had repulsed her; and said, it + should be her whole study to oblige me. + </p> + <p> + I told her, that I was not difficult to be pleased: and should let her + know from time to time what assistance I should expect from her. But for + that night I had no occasion for her further attendance. + </p> + <p> + She is not only genteel, but is well bred, and well spoken—she must + have had what is generally thought to be the polite part of education: but + it is strange, that fathers and mothers should make so light, as they + generally do, of that preferable part, in girls, which would improve their + minds, and give a grace to all the rest. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was gone, I inspected the doors, the windows, the wainscot, + the dark closet as well as the light one; and finding very good fastenings + to the door, and to all the windows, I again had recourse to my pen. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair is just now gone from me. Dorcas, she told me, had + acquainted her, that I had dismissed her for the night. She came to ask me + how I liked my apartment, and to wish me good rest. She expressed her + concern, that they could not have my company at supper. Mr. Lovelace, she + said, had informed them of my love of retirement. She assured me, that I + should not be broken in upon. She highly extolled him, and gave me a share + in the praise as to person. But was sorry, she said, that she was likely + to lose us so soon as Mr. Lovelace talked of. + </p> + <p> + I answered her with suitable civility; and she withdrew with great tokens + of respect. With greater, I think, than should be from distance of years, + as she was the wife of a gentleman; and as the appearance of every thing + about her, as well house as dress, carries the marks of such good + circumstances, as require not abasement. + </p> + <p> + If, my dear, you will write, against prohibition, be pleased to direct, To + Miss Laetitia Beaumont; to be left till called for, at Mr. Wilson's, in + Pall Mall. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace proposed this direction to me, not knowing of your desire + that your letters should pass by a third hand. As his motive for it was, + that my brother might not trace out where we are, I am glad, as well from + this instance as from others, that he seems to think he has done mischief + enough already. + </p> + <p> + Do you know how my poor Hannah does? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace is so full of his contrivances and expedients, that I think + it may not be amiss to desire you to look carefully to the seals of my + letters, as I shall to those of yours. If I find him base in this + particular, I shall think him capable of any evil; and will fly him as my + worst enemy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER II + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE [WITH HER TWO LAST LETTERS, NO. LVIII. + LIX. OF VOL. III., ENCLOSED.] THURSDAY NIGHT, APRIL 27. + </p> + <p> + I have your's; just brought me. Mr. Hickman has helped me to a lucky + expedient, which, with the assistance of the post, will enable me to + correspond with you every day. An honest higler, [Simon Collins his name,] + by whom I shall send this, and the two enclosed, (now I have your + direction whither,) goes to town constantly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and + Fridays; and can bring back to me from Mr. Wilson's what you shall have + caused to be left for me. + </p> + <p> + I congratulate you on your arrival in town, so much amended in spirits. I + must be brief. I hope you'll have no cause to repent returning my Norris. + It is forthcoming on demand. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry your Hannah can't be with you. She is very ill still; but not + dangerously. + </p> + <p> + I long for your account of the women you are with. If they are not right + people, you will find them out in one breakfasting. + </p> + <p> + I know not what to write upon his reporting to them that you are actually + married. His reasons for it are plausible. But he delights in odd + expedients and inventions. + </p> + <p> + Whether you like the people or not, do not, by your noble sincerity and + plain dealing, make yourself enemies. You are in the real world now you + know. + </p> + <p> + I am glad you had thoughts of taking him at his offer, if he had re-urged + it. I wonder he did not. But if he do not soon, and in such a way as you + can accept of it, don't think of staying with him. + </p> + <p> + Depend upon it, my dear, he will not leave you, either night or day, if he + can help it, now he has got footing. + </p> + <p> + I should have abhorred him for his report of your marriage, had he not + made it with such circumstances as leave it still in your power to keep + him at distance. If once he offer at the least familiarity—but this + is needless to say to you. He can have, I think, no other design but what + he professes; because he must needs think, that his report of being + married to you must increase your vigilance. + </p> + <p> + You may depend upon my looking narrowly into the sealings of your letters. + If, as you say, he be base in that point, he will be so in every thing. + But to a person of your merit, of your fortune, of your virtue, he cannot + be base. The man is no fool. It is his interest, as well with regard to + his expectations from his own friends, as from you, to be honest. Would to + Heaven, however, you were really married! This is now the predominant wish + of + </p> + <p> + Your ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER III + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY MORNING, EIGHT O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I am more and more displeased with Mr. Lovelace, on reflection, for his + boldness in hoping to make me, though but passively, as I may say, testify + to his great untruth. And I shall like him still less for it, if his view + in it does not come out to be the hope of accelerating my resolution in + his favour, by the difficulty it will lay me under as to my behaviour to + him. He has sent me his compliments by Dorcas, with a request that I will + permit him to attend me in the dining-room,—meet him in good humour, + or not: but I have answered, that as I shall see him at breakfast-time I + desired to be excused. + </p> + <p> + TEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I tried to adjust my countenance, before I went down, to an easier air + than I had a heart, and was received with the highest tokens of respect by + the widow and her two nieces: agreeable young women enough in their + persons; but they seemed to put on an air of reserve; while Mr. Lovelace + was easy and free to all, as if he were of long acquaintance with them: + gracefully enough, I cannot but say; an advantage which travelled + gentlemen have over other people. + </p> + <p> + The widow, in the conversation we had after breakfast, gave us an account + of the military merit of the Colonel her husband, and, upon this occasion, + put her handkerchief to her eyes twice or thrice. I hope for the sake of + her sincerity, she wetted it, because she would be thought to have done + so; but I saw not that she did. She wished that I might never know the + loss of a husband so dear to me, as her beloved Colonel was to her: and + she again put the handkerchief to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + It must, no doubt, be a most affecting thing to be separated from a good + husband, and to be left in difficult circumstances besides, and that not + by his fault, and exposed to the insults of the base and ungrateful, as + she represented her case to be at his death. This moved me a good deal in + her favour. + </p> + <p> + You know, my dear, that I have an open and free heart; and naturally have + as open and free a countenance; at least my complimenters have told me so. + At once, where I like, I mingle minds without reserve, encouraging + reciprocal freedoms, and am forward to dissipate diffidences. But with + these two nieces of the widow I never can be intimate—I don't know + why. + </p> + <p> + Only that circumstances, and what passed in conversation, encouraged not + the notion, or I should have been apt to think, that the young ladies and + Mr. Lovelace were of longer acquaintance than of yesterday. For he, by + stealth as it were, cast glances sometimes at them, when they returned; + and, on my ocular notice, their eyes fell, as I may say, under my eye, as + if they could not stand its examination. + </p> + <p> + The widow directed all her talk to me, as to Mrs. Lovelace; and I, with a + very ill grace bore it. And once she expressed more forwardly than I + thanked her for, her wonder that any vow, any consideration, however + weighty, could have force enough with so charming a couple, as she called + him and me, to make us keep separate beds. + </p> + <p> + Their eyes, upon this hint, had the advantage of mine. Yet was I not + conscious of guilt. How know I then, upon recollection, that my censures + upon theirs are not too rash? There are, no doubt, many truly modest + persons (putting myself out of the question) who, by blushes at an + injurious charge, have been suspected, by those who cannot distinguish + between the confusion which guilt will be attended with, and the noble + consciousness that overspreads the face of a fine spirit, to be thought + but capable of an imputed evil. + </p> + <p> + The great Roman, as we read, who took his surname from one part in three + (the fourth not then discovered) of the world he had triumphed over, being + charged with a great crime to his soldiery, chose rather to suffer exile + (the punishment due to it, had he been found guilty) than to have it said, + that Scipio was questioned in public, on so scandalous a charge. And think + you, my dear, that Scipio did not blush with indignation, when the charge + was first communicated to him? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace, when the widow expressed her forward wonder, looked sly and + leering, as if to observe how I took it: and said, they might take notice + that his regard for my will and pleasure (calling me his dear creature) + had greater force upon him than the oath by which he had bound himself. + </p> + <p> + Rebuking both him and the widow, I said, it was strange to me to hear an + oath or vow so lightly treated, as to have it thought but of second + consideration, whatever were the first. + </p> + <p> + The observation was just, Miss Martin said; for that nothing could excuse + the breaking of a solemn vow, be the occasion of making it what it would. + </p> + <p> + I asked her after the nearest church; for I have been too long a stranger + to the sacred worship. They named St. James's, St. Anne's, and another in + Bloomsbury; and the two nieces said they oftenest went to St. James's + church, because of the good company, as well as for the excellent + preaching. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace said, the Royal Chapel was the place he oftenest went to, + when he was in town. Poor man! little did I expect to hear he went to any + place of devotion. I asked, if the presence of the visible king of, + comparatively, but a small territory, did not take off, too generally, the + requisite attention to the service of the invisible King and Maker of a + thousand worlds? + </p> + <p> + He believed this might be so with such as came for curiosity, when the + royal family were present. But otherwise, he had seen as many contrite + faces at the Royal Chapel, as any where else: and why not? Since the + people about court have as deep scores to wipe off, as any people + whatsoever. + </p> + <p> + He spoke this with so much levity, that I could not help saying, that + nobody questioned but he knew how to choose his company. + </p> + <p> + Your servant, my dear, bowing, were his words; and turning to them, you + will observe upon numberless occasions, ladies, as we are further + acquainted, that my beloved never spares me upon these topics. But I + admire her as much in her reproofs, as I am fond of her approbation. + </p> + <p> + Miss Horton said, there was a time for every thing. She could not but say, + that she thought innocent mirth was mighty becoming in young people. + </p> + <p> + Very true, joined in Miss Martin. And Shakespeare says well, that youth is + the spring of life, the bloom of gaudy years [with a theatrical air, she + spoke it:] and for her part, she could not but admire in my spouse that + charming vivacity which so well suited his time of life. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace bowed. The man is fond of praise. More fond of it, I doubt, + than of deserving it. Yet this sort of praise he does deserve. He has, you + know, an easy free manner, and no bad voice: and this praise so expanded + his gay heart, that he sung the following lines from Congreve, as he told + us they were: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Youth does a thousand pleasures bring, + Which from decrepid age will fly; + Sweets that wanton in the bosom of the spring, + In winter's cold embraces die. +</pre> + <p> + And this for a compliment, as he said, to the two nieces. Nor was it + thrown away upon them. They encored it; and his compliance fixed them in + my memory. + </p> + <p> + We had some talk about meals, and the widow very civilly offered to + conform to any rules I would set her. I told her how easily I was pleased, + and how much I chose to dine by myself, and that from a plate sent me from + any single dish. But I will not trouble you, my dear, with such + particulars. + </p> + <p> + They thought me very singular; and with reason: but as I liked them not so + very well as to forego my own choice in compliment to them, I was the less + concerned for what they thought.—And still the less, as Mr. Lovelace + had put me very much out of humour with him. + </p> + <p> + They, however, cautioned me against melancholy. I said, I should be a very + unhappy creature if I could not bear my own company. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace said, that he must let the ladies into my story, and then + they would know how to allow for my ways. But, my dear, as you love me, + said the confident wretch, give as little way to melancholy as possible. + Nothing but the sweetness of your temper, and your high notions of a duty + that never can be deserved where you place it, can make you so uneasy as + you are.—Be not angry, my dear love, for saying so, [seeing me + frown, I suppose:] and snatched my hand and kissed it.—I left him + with them; and retired to my closet and my pen. + </p> + <p> + Just as I have written thus far, I am interrupted by a message from him, + that he is setting out on a journey, and desires to take my commands.—So + here I will leave off, to give him a meeting in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + I was not displeased to see him in his riding-dress. + </p> + <p> + He seemed desirous to know how I liked the gentlewomen below. I told him, + that although I did not think them very exceptionable; yet as I wanted + not, in my present situation, new acquaintance, I should not be fond of + cultivating theirs. + </p> + <p> + He urged me still farther on this head. + </p> + <p> + I could not say, I told him, that I greatly liked either of the young + gentlewomen, any more than their aunt: and that, were my situation ever so + happy, they had much too gay a turn for me. + </p> + <p> + He did not wonder, he said, to hear me say so. He knew not any of the sex, + who had been accustomed to show themselves at the town diversions and + amusements, that would appear tolerable to me. Silences and blushes, + Madam, are now no graces with our fine ladies in town. Hardened by + frequent public appearances, they would be as much ashamed to be found + guilty of these weaknesses, as men. + </p> + <p> + Do you defend these two gentlewomen, Sir, by reflections upon half the + sex? But you must second me, Mr. Lovelace, (and yet I am not fond of being + thought particular,) in my desire of breakfasting and supping (when I do + sup) by myself. + </p> + <p> + If I would have it so, to be sure it should be so. The people of the house + were not of consequence enough to be apologized to, in any point where my + pleasure was concerned. And if I should dislike them still more on further + knowledge of them, he hoped I would think of some other lodgings. + </p> + <p> + He expressed a good deal of regret at leaving me, declaring, that it was + absolutely in obedience to my commands: but that he could not have + consented to go, while my brother's schemes were on foot, if I had not + done him the credit of my countenance in the report he had made that we + were married; which, he said, had bound all the family to his interest, so + that he could leave me with the greater security and satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + He hoped, he said, that on his return I would name his happy day; and the + rather, as I might be convinced, by my brother's projects, that no + reconciliation was to be expected. + </p> + <p> + I told him, that perhaps I might write one letter to my uncle Harlowe. He + once loved me. I should be easier when I had made one direct application. + I might possibly propose such terms, in relation to my grandfather's + estate, as might procure me their attention; and I hoped he would be long + enough absent to give me time to write to him, and receive an answer from + him. + </p> + <p> + That, he must beg my pardon, he could not promise. He would inform himself + of Singleton's and my brother's motions; and if on his return he found no + reason for apprehension, he would go directly for Berks, and endeavour to + bring up with him his cousin Charlotte, who, he hoped, would induce me to + give him an earlier day than at present I seemed to think of.—I + seemed to think of, my dear, very acquiescent, as I should imagine! + </p> + <p> + I told him, that I should take that young lady's company for a great + favour. + </p> + <p> + I was the more pleased with this motion, as it came from himself, and with + no ill grace. + </p> + <p> + He earnestly pressed me to accept of a bank note: but I declined it. And + then he offered me his servant William for my attendant in his absence; + who, he said, might be dispatched to him, if any thing extraordinary fell + out. I consented to that. + </p> + <p> + He took his leave of me in the most respectful manner, only kissing my + hand. He left the bank note, unobserved by me, upon the table. You may be + sure, I shall give it him back at his return. + </p> + <p> + I am in a much better humour with him than I was. + </p> + <p> + Where doubts of any person are removed, a mind not ungenerous is willing, + by way of amends for having conceived those doubts, to construe every + thing that happens, capable of a good instruction, in that person's + favour. Particularly, I cannot but be pleased to observe, that although he + speaks of the ladies of his family with the freedom of relationship, yet + it is always of tenderness. And from a man's kindness to his relations of + the sex, a woman has some reason to expect his good behaviour to herself, + when married, if she be willing to deserve it from him. + </p> + <p> + And thus, my dear, am I brought to sit down satisfied with this man, where + I find room to infer that he is not by nature a savage. But how could a + creature who (treating herself unpolitely) gave a man an opportunity to + run away with her, expect to be treated by that man with a very high + degree of politeness? + </p> + <p> + But why, now, when fairer prospects seem to open, why these melancholy + reflections? will my beloved friend ask of her Clarissa? + </p> + <p> + Why? Can you ask why, my dearest Miss Howe, of a creature, who, in the + world's eye, had enrolled her name among the giddy and inconsiderate; who + labours under a parent's curse, and the cruel uncertainties, which must + arise from reflecting, that, equally against duty and principle, she has + thrown herself into the power of a man, and that man an immoral one?— + Must not the sense she has of her inconsideration darken her most hopeful + prospects? Must it not even rise strongest upon a thoughtful mind, when + her hopes are the fairest? Even her pleasures, were the man to prove + better than she expects, coming to her with an abatement, like that which + persons who are in possession of ill-gotten wealth must then most + poignantly experience (if they have reflecting and unseared minds) when, + all their wishes answered, (if answered,) they sit down in hopes to enjoy + what they have unjustly obtained, and find their own reflections their + greatest torment. + </p> + <p> + May you, my dear friend, be always happy in your reflections, prays + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Lovelace, in his next letter, triumphs on his having carried his two + great points of making the Lady yield to pass for his wife to the + people of the house, and to his taking up his lodging in it, though + but for one night. He is now, he says, in a fair way, and doubts not + but that he shall soon prevail, if not by persuasion, by surprise. + Yet he pretends to have some little remorse, and censures himself as + to acting the part of the grand tempter. But having succeeded thus + far, he cannot, he says, forbear trying, according to the resolution + he had before made, whether he cannot go farther. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He gives the particulars of their debates on the above-mentioned + subjects, to the same effect as in the Lady's last letters. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +It will by this time be seen that his whole merit, with regard to the + Lady, lies in doing justice to her excellencies both of mind and + person, though to his own condemnation. Thus he begins his succeeding + letter:] +</pre> + <p> + And now, Belford, will I give thee an account of our first breakfast- + conversation. + </p> + <p> + All sweetly serene and easy was the lovely brow and charming aspect of my + goddess, on her descending among us; commanding reverence from every eye, + a courtesy from every knee, and silence, awful silence, from every + quivering lip: while she, armed with conscious worthiness and superiority, + looked and behaved as an empress would look and behave among her vassals; + yet with a freedom from pride and haughtiness, as if born to dignity, and + to a behaviour habitually gracious. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He takes notice of the jealousy, pride, and vanity of Sally Martin and + Polly Horton, on his respectful behaviour to the Lady: creatures who, + brought up too high for their fortunes, and to a taste of pleasure, + and the public diversions, had fallen an easy prey to his seducing + arts (as will be seen in the conclusion of this work:) and who, as he + observed, 'had not yet got over that distinction in their love, which + makes a woman prefer one man to another.'] +</pre> + <p> + How difficult is it, says he, to make a woman subscribe to a preference + against herself, though ever so visible; especially where love is + concerned! This violent, this partial little devil, Sally, has the + insolence to compare herself with my angel—yet owns her to be an + angel. I charge you, Mr. Lovelace, say she, show none of your extravagant + acts of kindness before me to this sullen, this gloomy beauty—I + cannot bear it. Then was I reminded of her first sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + What a rout do these women make about nothing at all! Were it not for what + the learned Bishop, in his Letter from Italy, calls the entanglements of + amour, and I the delicacies of intrigue, what is there, Belford, in all + they can do for us? + </p> + <p> + How do these creatures endeavour to stimulate me! A fallen woman is a + worse devil than ever a profligate man. The former is incapable of + remorse: that am not I—nor ever shall they prevail upon me, though + aided by all the powers of darkness, to treat this admirable creature with + indignity—so far, I mean, as indignity can be separated from the + trials which will prove her to be either woman or angel. + </p> + <p> + Yet with them I am a craven. I might have had her before now, if I would. + If I would treat her as flesh and blood, I should find her such. They + thought I knew, if any man living did, that if a man made a goddess of a + woman, she would assume the goddess; that if power were given to her, she + would exert that power to the giver, if to nobody else. And D——r's + wife is thrown into my dish, who, thou knowest, kept her ceremonious + husband at haughty distance, and whined in private to her insulting + footman. O how I cursed the blasphemous wretches! They will make me, as I + tell them, hate their house, and remove from it. And by my soul, Jack, I + am ready at times to think that I should not have brought her hither, were + it but on Sally's account. And yet, without knowing either Sally's heart, + or Polly's, the dear creature resolves against having any conversation + with them but such as she can avoid. I am not sorry for this, thou mayest + think; since jealousy in a woman is not to be concealed from woman. And + Sally has no command of herself. + </p> + <p> + What dost think!—Here this little devil Sally, not being able, as + she told me, to support life under my displeasure, was going into a fit: + but when I saw her preparing for it, I went out of the room; and so she + thought it would not be worth her while to show away. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[In this manner he mentions what his meaning was in making the Lady the + compliment of his absence:] +</pre> + <p> + As to leaving her: if I go but for one night, I have fulfilled my promise: + and if she think not, I can mutter and grumble, and yield again, and make + a merit of it; and then, unable to live out of her presence, soon return. + Nor are women ever angry at bottom for being disobeyed through excess of + love. They like an uncontroulable passion. They like to have every favour + ravished from them, and to be eaten and drunk quite up by a voracious + lover. Don't I know the sex?—Not so, indeed, as yet, my Clarissa: + but, however, with her my frequent egresses will make me look new to her, + and create little busy scenes between us. At the least, I may surely, + without exception, salute her at parting, and at return; and will not + those occasional freedoms (which civility will warrant) by degrees + familiarize my charmer to them? + </p> + <p> + But here, Jack, what shall I do with my uncle and aunts, and all my loving + cousins? For I understand that they are more in haste to have me married + than I am myself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER IV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, APRIL 28. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace is returned already. My brother's projects were his pretence. + I could not but look upon this short absence as an evasion of his promise; + especially as he had taken such precautions with the people below; and as + he knew that I proposed to keep close within-doors. I cannot bear to be + dealt meanly with; and angrily insisted that he should directly set out + for Berkshire, in order to engage his cousin, as he had promised. + </p> + <p> + O my dearest life, said he, why will you banish me from your presence? I + cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I should. I have + been hovering about town ever since I left you. Edgware was the farthest + place I went to, and there I was not able to stay two hours, for fear, at + this crisis, any thing should happen. Who can account for the workings of + an apprehensive mind, when all that is dear and valuable to it is at + stake? You may spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your + friends, till the solemnity has passed that shall entitle me to give + weight to your application. When they know we are married, your brother's + plots will be at an end; and your father and mother, and uncles, must be + reconciled to you. Why then should you hesitate a moment to confirm my + happiness? Why, once more, would you banish me from you? Why will you not + give the man who has brought you into difficulties, and who so honourably + wishes to extricate you from them, the happiness of doing so? + </p> + <p> + He was silent. My voice failed to second the inclination I had to say + something not wholly discouraging to a point so warmly pressed. + </p> + <p> + I'll tell you, my angel, resumed he, what I propose to do, if you approve + of it. I will instantly go out to view some of the handsome new squares or + fine streets round them, and make a report to you of any suitable house I + find to be let. I will take such a one as you shall choose, and set up an + equipage befitting our condition. You shall direct the whole. And on some + early day, either before, or after we fix, [it must be at your own + choice], be pleased to make me the happiest of men. And then will every + thing be in a desirable train. You shall receive in your own house (if it + can be so soon furnished as I wish) the compliments of all my relations. + Charlotte shall visit you in the interim: and if it take up time, you + shall choose whom you will honour with your company, first, second, or + third, in the summer months; and on your return you shall find all that + was wanting in your new habitation supplied, and pleasures in a constant + round shall attend us. O my angel, take me to you, instead of banishing me + from you, and make me your's for ever. + </p> + <p> + You see, my dear, that here was no day pressed for. I was not uneasy about + that, and the sooner recovered myself, as there was not. But, however, I + gave him no reason to upbraid me for refusing his offer of going in search + of a house. + </p> + <p> + He is accordingly gone out for this purpose. But I find that he intends to + take up his lodging here tonight; and if to-night, no doubt on other + nights, while he is in town. As the doors and windows of my apartment have + good fastenings; as he has not, in all this time, given me cause for + apprehension; as he has the pretence of my brother's schemes to plead; as + the people below are very courteous and obliging, Miss Horton especially, + who seems to have taken a great liking to me, and to be of a gentler + temper and manners than Miss Martin; and as we are now in a tolerable way; + I imagine it would look particular to them all, and bring me into a debate + with a man, who (let him be set upon what he will) has always a great deal + to say for himself, if I were to insist upon his promise: on all these + accounts, I think, I will take no notice of his lodging here, if he don't.—Let + me know, my dear, your thoughts of every thing. + </p> + <p> + You may believe I gave him back his bank note the moment I saw him. + </p> + <p> + FRIDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace has seen two or three houses, but none to his mind. But he + has heard of one which looks promising, he says, and which he is to + inquire about in the morning. + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + He has made his inquiries, and actually seen the house he was told of last + night. The owner of it is a young widow lady, who is inconsolable for the + death of her husband; Fretchville her name. It is furnished quite in + taste, every thing being new within these six months. He believes, if I + like not the furniture, the use of it may be agreed for, with the house, + for a time certain: but, if I like it, he will endeavour to take the one, + and purchase the other, directly. + </p> + <p> + The lady sees nobody; nor are the best apartments above-stairs to be + viewed, till she is either absent, or gone into the country; which she + talks of doing in a fortnight, or three weeks, at farthest, and to live + there retired. + </p> + <p> + What Mr. Lovelace saw of the house (which were the saloon and two + parlours) was perfectly elegant; and he was assured all is of a piece. The + offices are also very convenient; coach-house and stables at hand. + </p> + <p> + He shall be very impatient, he says, till I see the whole; nor will he, if + he finds he can have it, look farther till I have seen it, except any + thing else offer to my liking. The price he values not. + </p> + <p> + He now does nothing but talk of the ceremony, but not indeed of the day. I + don't want him to urge that—but I wonder he does not. + </p> + <p> + He has just now received a letter from Lady Betty Lawrance, by a + particular hand; the contents principally relating to an affair she has in + chancery. But in the postscript she is pleased to say very respectful + things of me. + </p> + <p> + They are all impatient, she says, for the happy day being over; which they + flatter themselves will ensure his reformation. + </p> + <p> + He hoped, he told me, that I would soon enable him to answer their wishes + and his own. + </p> + <p> + But, my dear, although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for + the day. Which is the more extraordinary, as he was so pressing for + marriage before we came to town. + </p> + <p> + He was very earnest with me to give him, and four of his friends, my + company on Monday evening, at a little collation. Miss Martin and Miss + Horton cannot, he says, be there, being engaged in a party of their own, + with two daughters of Colonel Solcombe, and two nieces of Sir Anthony + Holmes, upon an annual occasion. But Mrs. Sinclair will be present, and + she gave him hope of the company of a young lady of very great fortune and + merit (Miss Partington), an heiress to whom Colonel Sinclair, it seems, in + his lifetime was guardian, and who therefore calls Mrs. Sinclair Mamma. + </p> + <p> + I desired to be excused. He had laid me, I said, under a most disagreeable + necessity of appearing as a married person, and I would see as few people + as possible who were to think me so. + </p> + <p> + He would not urge it, he said, if I were much averse: but they were his + select friends; men of birth and fortune, who longed to see me. It was + true, he added, that they, as well as his friend Doleman, believed we were + married: but they thought him under the restrictions that he had mentioned + to the people below. I might be assured, he told me, that his politeness + before them should be carried into the highest degree of reverence. + </p> + <p> + When he is set upon any thing, there is no knowing, as I have said + heretofore, what one can do.* But I will not, if I can help it, be made a + show of; especially to men of whose character and principles I have no + good opinion. I am, my dearest friend, + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter I. of this volume. See also Vol. II. Letter XX. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Lovelace, in his next letter, gives an account of his quick return: + of his reasons to the Lady for it: of her displeasure upon it: and of + her urging his absence from the safety she was in from the situation + of the house, except she were to be traced out by his visits.] +</pre> + <p> + I was confoundedly puzzled, says he, on this occasion, and on her + insisting upon the execution of a too-ready offer which I made her to go + down to Berks, to bring up my cousin Charlotte to visit and attend her. I + made miserable excuses; and fearing that they would be mortally resented, + as her passion began to rise upon my saying Charlotte was delicate, which + she took strangely wrong, I was obliged to screen myself behind the most + solemn and explicit declarations. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He then repeats those declarations, to the same effect with the account + she gives of them.] +</pre> + <p> + I began, says he, with an intention to keep my life of honour in view, in + the declaration I made her; but, as it has been said of a certain orator + in the House of Commons, who more than once, in a long speech, convinced + himself as he went along, and concluded against the side he set out + intending to favour, so I in earnest pressed without reserve for matrimony + in the progress of my harangue, which state I little thought of urging + upon her with so much strength and explicitness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He then values himself upon the delay that his proposal of taking and + furnishing a house must occasion. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He wavers in his resolutions whether to act honourable or not by a merit + so exalted. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He values himself upon his own delicacy, in expressing his indignation + against her friends, for supposing what he pretends his heart rises + against them for presuming to suppose.] +</pre> + <p> + But have I not reason, says he, to be angry with her for not praising me + for this my delicacy, when she is so ready to call me to account for the + least failure in punctilio?—However, I believe I can excuse her too, + upon this generous consideration, [for generous I am sure it is, because + it is against myself,] that her mind being the essence of delicacy, the + least want of it shocks her; while the meeting with what is so very + extraordinary to me, is too familiar to her to obtain her notice, as an + extraordinary. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He glories in the story of the house, and of the young widow possessor + of it, Mrs. Fretchville he calls her; and leaves it doubtful to Mr. + Belford, whether it be a real or a fictitious story. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He mentions his different proposals in relation to the ceremony, which he + so earnestly pressed for; and owns his artful intention in avoiding to + name the day.] +</pre> + <p> + And now, says he, I hope soon to have an opportunity to begin my + operations; since all is halcyon and security. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the dear creature's sweet and silent + confusion, when I touched upon the matrimonial topics. + </p> + <p> + She may doubt. She may fear. The wise in all important cases will doubt, + and will fear, till they are sure. But her apparent willingness to think + well of a spirit so inventive, and so machinating, is a happy prognostic + for me. O these reasoning ladies!—How I love these reasoning ladies!—'Tis + all over with them, when once love has crept into their hearts: for then + will they employ all their reasoning powers to excuse rather than to blame + the conduct of the doubted lover, let appearances against him be ever so + strong. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray, Belton, and Tourville, long to see my angel, and will be there. + She has refused me; but must be present notwithstanding. So generous a + spirit as mine is cannot enjoy its happiness without communication. If I + raise not your envy and admiration both at once, but half-joy will be the + joy of having such a charming fly entangled in my web. She therefore must + comply. And thou must come. And then I will show thee the pride and glory + of the Harlowe family, my implacable enemies; and thou shalt join with me + in my triumph over them all. + </p> + <p> + I know not what may still be the perverse beauty's fate: I want thee, + therefore, to see and admire her, while she is serene and full of hope: + before her apprehensions are realized, if realized they are to be; and if + evil apprehensions of me she really has; before her beamy eyes have lost + their lustre; while yet her charming face is surrounded with all its + virgin glories; and before the plough of disappointment has thrown up + furrows of distress upon every lovely feature. + </p> + <p> + If I can procure you this honour you will be ready to laugh out, as I have + often much ado to forbear, at the puritanical behaviour of the mother + before this lady. Not an oath, not a curse, nor the least free word, + escapes her lips. She minces in her gait. She prims up her horse-mouth. + Her voice, which, when she pleases, is the voice of thunder, is sunk into + an humble whine. Her stiff hams, that have not been bent to a civility for + ten years past, are now limbered into courtesies three deep at ever word. + Her fat arms are crossed before her; and she can hardly be prevailed upon + to sit in the presence of my goddess. + </p> + <p> + I am drawing up instructions for ye all to observe on Monday night. + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + Most confoundedly alarmed!—Lord, Sir, what do you think? cried + Dorcas —My lady is resolved to go to church to-morrow! I was at + quadrille with the women below.—To church! said I, and down I laid + my cards. To church! repeated they, each looking upon the other. We had + done playing for that night. + </p> + <p> + Who could have dreamt of such a whim as this?—Without notice, + without questions! Her clothes not come! No leave asked!—Impossible + she should think of being my wife!—Besides, she don't consider, if + she go to church, I must go too!—Yet not to ask for my company! Her + brother and Singleton ready to snap her up, as far as she knows!—Known + by her clothes—her person, her features, so distinguished!—Not + such another woman in England!—To church of all places! Is the devil + in the girl? said I, as soon as I could speak. + </p> + <p> + Well, but to leave this subject till to-morrow morning, I will now give + you the instructions I have drawn up for your's and your companions' + behaviour on Monday night. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Instructions to be observed by John Belford, Richard Mowbray, Thomas + Belton, and James Tourville, Esquires of the Body to General Robert + Lovelace, on their admission to the presence of his Goddess. +</pre> + <p> + Ye must be sure to let it sink deep into your heavy heads, that there is + no such lady in the world as Miss Clarissa Harlowe; and that she is + neither more nor less than Mrs. Lovelace, though at present, to my shame + be it spoken, a virgin. + </p> + <p> + Be mindful also, that your old mother's name, after that of her mother + when a maid, is Sinclair: that her husband was a lieutenant-colonel, and + all that you, Belford, know from honest Doleman's letter of her,* that let + your brethren know. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXXVIII. Vol. III. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray and Tourville, the two greatest blunderers of the four, I allow to + be acquainted with the widow and nieces, from the knowledge they had of + the colonel. They will not forbear familiarities of speech to the mother, + as of longer acquaintance than a day. So I have suited their parts to + their capacities. + </p> + <p> + They may praise the widow and the colonel for people of great honour—but + not too grossly; nor to labour the point so as to render themselves + suspected. + </p> + <p> + The mother will lead ye into her own and the colonel's praises! and + Tourville and Mowbray may be both her vouchers—I, and you, and + Belton, must be only hearsay confirmers. + </p> + <p> + As poverty is generally suspectible, the widow must be got handsomely + aforehand; and no doubt but she is. The elegance of her house and + furniture, and her readiness to discharge all demands upon her, which she + does with ostentation enough, and which makes her neighbours, I suppose, + like her the better, demonstrate this. She will propose to do handsome + things by her two nieces. Sally is near marriage—with an eminent + woollen-draper in the Strand, if ye have a mind to it; for there are five + or six of them there. + </p> + <p> + The nieces may be inquired after, since they will be absent, as persons + respected by Mowbray and Tourville, for their late worthy uncle's sake. + </p> + <p> + Watch ye diligently every turn of my countenance, every motion of my eye; + for in my eye, and in my countenance will ye find a sovereign regulator. I + need not bid you respect me mightily: your allegiance obliges you to that: + And who that sees me, respects me not? + </p> + <p> + Priscilla Partington (for her looks so innocent, and discretion so deep, + yet seeming so softly) may be greatly relied upon. She will accompany the + mother, gorgeously dressed, with all her Jew's extravagance flaming out + upon her; and first induce, then countenance, the lady. She has her cue, + and I hope will make her acquaintance coveted by my charmer. + </p> + <p> + Miss Partington's history is this: the daughter of Colonel Sinclair's + brother-in-law: that brother-in-law may have been a Turkey-merchant, or + any merchant, who died confoundedly rich: the colonel one of her guardians + [collateral credit in that to the old one:] whence she always calls Mrs. + Sinclair Mamma, though not succeeding to the trust. + </p> + <p> + She is just come to pass a day or two, and then to return to her surviving + guardian's at Barnet. + </p> + <p> + Miss Partington has suitors a little hundred (her grandmother, an + alderman's dowager, having left her a great additional fortune,) and is + not trusted out of her guardian's house without an old governante, noted + for discretion, except to her Mamma Sinclair, with whom now-and-then she + is permitted to be for a week together. + </p> + <p> + Pris. will Mamma-up Mrs. Sinclair, and will undertake to court her + guardian to let her pass a delightful week with her—Sir Edward + Holden he may as well be, if your shallow pates will not be clogged with + too many circumstantials. Lady Holden, perhaps, will come with her; for + she always delighted in her Mamma Sinclair's company, and talks of her, + and her good management, twenty times a day. + </p> + <p> + Be it principally thy part, Jack, who art a parading fellow, and aimest at + wisdom, to keep thy brother-varlets from blundering; for, as thou must + have observed from what I have written, we have the most watchful and most + penetrating lady in the world to deal with; a lady worth deceiving! but + whose eyes will piece to the bottom of your shallow souls the moment she + hears you open. Do you therefore place thyself between Mowbray and + Tourville: their toes to be played upon and commanded by thine, if they go + wrong: thy elbows to be the ministers of approbation. + </p> + <p> + As to your general behaviour; no hypocrisy!—I hate it: so does my + charmer. If I had studied for it, I believe I could have been an + hypocrite: but my general character is so well known, that I should have + been suspected at once, had I aimed at making myself too white. But what + necessity can there be for hypocrisy, unless the generality of the sex + were to refuse us for our immoralities? The best of them love to have the + credit for reforming us. Let the sweet souls try for it: if they fail, + their intent was good. That will be a consolation to them. And as to us, + our work will be the easier; our sins the fewer: since they will draw + themselves in with a very little of our help; and we shall save a parcel + of cursed falsehoods, and appear to be what we are both to angels and men.—Mean + time their very grandmothers will acquit us, and reproach them with their + self-do, self-have, and as having erred against knowledge, and ventured + against manifest appearances. What folly, therefore, for men of our + character to be hypocrites! + </p> + <p> + Be sure to instruct the rest, and do thou thyself remember, not to talk + obscenely. You know I never permitted any of you to talk obscenely. Time + enough for that, when ye grow old, and can ONLY talk. Besides, ye must + consider Prisc.'s affected character, my goddess's real one. Far from + obscenity, therefore, do not so much as touch upon the double entendre. + What! as I have often said, cannot you touch a lady's heart without + wounding her ear? + </p> + <p> + It is necessary that ye should appear worse men than myself. You cannot + help appearing so, you'll say. Well, then, there will be the less + restraint upon you—the less restraint, the less affectation.—And + if Belton begins his favourite subject in behalf of keeping, it may make + me take upon myself to oppose him: but fear not; I shall not give the + argument all my force. + </p> + <p> + She must have some curiosity, I think, to see what sort of men my + companions are: she will not expect any of you to be saints. Are you not + men born to considerable fortunes, although ye are not all of you men of + parts? Who is it in this mortal life that wealth does not mislead? And as + it gives people the power of being mischievous, does it not require great + virtue to forbear the use of that power? Is not the devil said to be the + god of this world? Are we not children of this world? Well, then! let me + tell thee my opinion—It is this, that were it not for the poor and + the middling, the world would probably, long ago, have been destroyed by + fire from Heaven. Ungrateful wretches the rest, thou wilt be apt to say, + to make such sorry returns, as they generally do make, to the poor and the + middling! + </p> + <p> + This dear lady is prodigiously learned in theories. But as to practices, + as to experimentals, must be, as you know from her tender years, a mere + novice. Till she knew me, I dare say, she did not believe, whatever she + had read, that there were such fellows in the world, as she will see in + you four. I shall have much pleasure in observing how she'll stare at her + company, when she finds me the politest man of the five. + </p> + <p> + And so much for instructions general and particular for your behaviour on + Monday night. + </p> + <p> + And let me add, that you must attend to every minute circumstance, whether + you think there be reason for it, or not. Deep, like golden ore, + frequently lies my meaning, and richly worth digging for. The hint of + least moment, as you may imagine it, is often pregnant with events of the + greatest. Be implicit. Am I not your general? Did I ever lead you on that + I brought you not off with safety and success?—Sometimes to your own + stupid astonishment. + </p> + <p> + And now, methinks, thou art curious to know, what can be my view in + risquing the displeasure of my fair-one, and alarming her fears, after + four or five halcyon days have gone over our heads? I'll satisfy thee. + </p> + <p> + The visiters of the two nieces will crowd the house.—Beds will be + scarce:—Miss Partington, a sweet, modest, genteel girl, will be + prodigiously taken with my charmer;—will want to begin a friendship + with her—a share in her bed, for one night only, will be requested. + Who knows, but on that very Monday night I may be so unhappy as to give + mortal offence to my beloved? The shyest birds may be caught napping. + Should she attempt to fly me upon it, cannot I detain her? Should she + actually fly, cannot I bring her back, by authority civil or uncivil, if I + have evidence upon evidence that she acknowledged, though but tacitly, her + marriage? And should I, or should I not succeed, and she forgive me, or if + she but descend to expostulate, or if she bear me in her sight, then will + she be all my own. All delicacy is my charmer. I long to see how such a + delicacy, on any of these occasions, will behave, and in my situation it + behoves me to provide against every accident. + </p> + <p> + I must take care, knowing what an eel I have to do with, that the little + riggling rogue does not slip through my fingers. How silly should I look, + staring after her, when she had shot from me into the muddy river, her + family, from which with so much difficulty I have taken her! + </p> + <p> + Well then, here are—let me see—How many persons are there who, + after Monday night, will be able to swear that she has gone by my name, + answered to my name, had no other view in leaving her friends but to go by + my name? her own relations neither able nor willing to deny it.— + First, here are my servants, her servant, Dorcas, Mrs. Sinclair, Mrs. + Sinclair's two nieces, and Miss Partington. + </p> + <p> + But for fear these evidences should be suspected, here comes the jet of + the business—'No less than four worthy gentlemen of fortune and + family, who were all in company such a night particularly, at a collation + to which they were invited by Robert Lovelace, of Sandoun-hall, in the + county of Lancaster, esquire, in company with Magdalen Sinclair, widow, + and Priscilla Partington, spinster, and the lady complainant, when the + said Robert Lovelace addressed himself to the said lady, on a multitude of + occasions, as his wife; as they and others did, as Mrs. Lovelace; every + one complimenting and congratulating her upon her nuptials; and that she + received such their compliments and congratulations with no other visible + displeasure or repugnance, than such as a young bride, full of blushes and + pretty confusion, might be supposed to express upon such contemplative + revolvings as those compliments would naturally inspire.' Nor do thou rave + at me, Jack, nor rebel. Dost think I brought the dear creature hither for + nothing? + </p> + <p> + And here's a faint sketch of my plot.—Stand by, varlets—tanta-ra-ra-ra! + —Veil your bonnets, and confess your master! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER V + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY. + </p> + <p> + Have been at church, Jack—behaved admirably well too! My charmer is + pleased with me now: for I was exceedingly attentive to the discourse, and + very ready in the auditor's part of the service.—Eyes did not much + wander. How could they, when the loveliest object, infinitely the + loveliest in the whole church, was in my view! + </p> + <p> + Dear creature! how fervent, how amiable, in her devotions! I have got her + to own that she prayed for me. I hope a prayer from so excellent a mind + will not be made in vain. + </p> + <p> + There is, after all, something beautifully solemn in devotion. The Sabbath + is a charming institution to keep the heart right, when it is right. One + day in seven, how reasonable!—I think I'll go to church once a day + often. I fancy it will go a great way towards making me a reformed man. To + see multitudes of well-appearing people all joining in one reverend act. + An exercise how worthy of a rational being! Yet it adds a sting or two to + my former stings, when I think of my projects with regard to this charming + creature. In my conscience, I believe, if I were to go constantly to + church, I could not pursue them. + </p> + <p> + I had a scheme come into my head while there; but I will renounce it, + because it obtruded itself upon me in so good a place. Excellent creature! + How many ruins has she prevented by attaching me to herself —by + engrossing my whole attention. + </p> + <p> + But let me tell thee what passed between us in my first visit of this + morning; and then I will acquaint thee more largely with my good behaviour + at church. + </p> + <p> + I could not be admitted till after eight. I found her ready prepared to go + out. I pretended to be ignorant of her intention, having charged Dorcas + not to own that she had told me of it. + </p> + <p> + Going abroad, Madam?—with an air of indifference. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Sir: I intend to go to church. + </p> + <p> + I hope, Madam, I shall have the honour to attend you. + </p> + <p> + No: she designed to take a chair, and go to the next church. + </p> + <p> + This startled me:—A chair to carry her to the next church from Mrs. + Sinclair's, her right name not Sinclair, and to bring her back hither in + the face of people who might not think well of the house!—There was + no permitting that. Yet I was to appear indifferent. But said, I should + take it for a favour, if she would permit me to attend her in a coach, as + there was time for it, to St. Paul's. + </p> + <p> + She made objections to the gaiety of my dress; and told me, that if she + went to St. Paul's, she could go in a coach without me. + </p> + <p> + I objected Singleton and her brother, and offered to dress in the plainest + suit I had. + </p> + <p> + I beg the favour of attending you, dear Madam, said I. I have not been at + church a great while; we shall sit in different stalls, and the next time + I go, I hope it will be to give myself a title to the greatest blessing I + can receive. + </p> + <p> + She made some further objections: but at last permitted me the honour of + attending her. + </p> + <p> + I got myself placed in her eye, that the time might not seem tedious to + me, for we were there early. And I gained her good opinion, as I mentioned + above, by my behaviour. + </p> + <p> + The subject of the discourse was particular enough: It was about a + prophet's story or parable of an ewe-lamb taken by a rich man from a poor + one, who dearly loved it, and whose only comfort it was: designed to + strike remorse into David, on his adultery with Uriah's wife Bathsheba, + and his murder of the husband. These women, Jack, have been the occasion + of all manner of mischief from the beginning! Now, when David, full of + indignation, swore [King David would swear, Jack: But how shouldst thou + know who King David was?—The story is in the Bible,] that the rich + man should surely die; Nathan, which was the prophet's name, and a good + ingenious fellow, cried out, (which were the words of the text,) Thou art + the man! By my soul I thought the parson looked directly at me; and at + that moment I cast my eye full on my ewe-lamb.—But I must tell thee + too, that, that I thought a good deal of my Rosebud.—A better man + than King David, in that point, however, thought I! + </p> + <p> + When we came home we talked upon the subject; and I showed my charmer my + attention to the discourse, by letting her know where the Doctor made the + most of his subject, and where it might have been touched to greater + advantage: for it is really a very affecting story, and has as pretty a + contrivance in it as ever I read. And this I did in such a grave way, that + she seemed more and more pleased with me; and I have no doubt, that I + shall get her to favour me to-morrow night with her company at my + collation. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + We all dined together in Mrs. Sinclair's parlour:—All excessively + right! The two nieces have topped their parts—Mrs. Sinclair her's. + Never was so easy as now!—'She really thought a little oddly of + these people at first, she said! Mrs. Sinclair seemed very forbidding! Her + nieces were persons with whom she could not wish to be acquainted. But + really we should not be too hasty in our censures. Some people improve + upon us. The widow seems tolerable.' She went no farther than tolerable.—'Miss + Martin and Miss Horton are young people of good sense, and have read a + great deal. What Miss Martin particularly said of marriage, and of her + humble servant, was very solid. She believes with such notions she cannot + make a bad wife.' I have said Sally's humble servant is a woolen- draper + of great reputation; and she is soon to be married. + </p> + <p> + I have been letting her into thy character, and into the characters of my + other three esquires, in hopes to excite her curiosity to see you + to-morrow night. I have told her some of the worst, as well as best parts + of your characters, in order to exalt myself, and to obviate any sudden + surprizes, as well as to teach her what sort of men she may expect to see, + if she will oblige me with her company. + </p> + <p> + By her after-observation upon each of you, I shall judge what I may or may + not do to obtain or keep her good opinion; what she will like, or what + not; and so pursue the one or avoid the other, as I see proper. So, while + she is penetrating into your shallow heads, I shall enter her heart, and + know what to bid my own to hope for. + </p> + <p> + The house is to be taken in three weeks.—All will be over in three + weeks, or bad will be my luck!—Who knows but in three days?—Have + I not carried that great point of making her pass for my wife to the + people below? And that other great one, of fixing myself here night and + day? —What woman ever escaped me, who lodged under one roof with me?—The + house too, THE house; the people—people after my own heart; her + servants, Will. and Dorcas, both my servants.—Three days, did I say! + Pho! Pho! Pho!—three hours! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have carried my third point: but so extremely to the dislike of my + charmer, that I have been threatened, for suffering Miss Partington to be + introduced to her without her leave. Which laid her under a necessity to + deny or comply with the urgent request of so fine a young lady; who had + engaged to honour me at my collation, on condition that my beloved would + be present at it. + </p> + <p> + To be obliged to appear before my friends as what she was not! She was for + insisting, that I should acquaint the women here with the truth of the + matter; and not go on propagating stories for her to countenance, making + her a sharer in my guilt. + </p> + <p> + But what points will not perseverance carry? especially when it is covered + over with the face of yielding now, and, Parthian-like, returning to the + charge anon. Do not the sex carry all their points with their men by the + same methods? Have I conversed with them so freely as I have done, and + learnt nothing of them? Didst thou ever know that a woman's denial of any + favour, whether the least or the greatest, that my heart was set upon, + stood her in any stead? The more perverse she, the more steady I—that + is my rule. + </p> + <p> + But the point thus so much against her will carried, I doubt thou will see + in her more of a sullen than of an obliging charmer: for, when Miss + Partington was withdrawn, 'What was Miss Partington to her? In her + situation she wanted no new acquaintances. And what were my four friends + to her in her present circumstances? She would assure me, if ever again' + —And there she stopped, with a twirl of her hand. + </p> + <p> + When we meet, I will, in her presence, tipping thee a wink, show thee the + motion, for it was a very pretty one. Quite new. Yet have I seen an + hundred pretty passionate twirls too, in my time, from other fair-ones. + How universally engaging is it to put a woman of sense, to whom a man is + not married, in a passion, let the reception given to every ranting scene + in our plays testify. Take care, my charmer, now thou art come to delight + me with thy angry twirls, that thou temptest me not to provoke a variety + of them from one, whose every motion, whose every air, carries in it so + much sense and soul. + </p> + <p> + But, angry or pleased, this charming creature must be all loveliness. Her + features are all harmony, and made for one another. No other feature could + be substituted in the place of any one of her's but most abate of her + perfection: And think you that I do not long to have your opinion of my + fair prize? + </p> + <p> + If you love to see features that glow, though the heart is frozen, and + never yet was thawed; if you love fine sense, and adages flowing through + teeth of ivory and lips of coral; an eye that penetrates all things; a + voice that is harmony itself; an air of grandeur, mingled with a sweetness + that cannot be described; a politeness that, if ever equaled, was never + excelled—you'll see all these excellencies, and ten times more, in + this my GLORIANA. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark her majestic fabric!—She's a temple, + Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine; + Her soul the deity that lodges there: + Nor is the pile unworthy of the god. +</pre> + <p> + Or, to describe her in a softer style with Rowe, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bloom of op'ning flow'rs, unsully'd beauty, + Softness, and sweetest innocence she wears, + And looks like nature in the world's first spring. +</pre> + <p> + Adieu, varlets four!—At six, on Monday evening, I expect ye all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY, APRIL 30. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Lovelace, in his last letters, having taken notice of the most + material passages contained in this letter, the following extracts + from it are only inserted. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She gives pretty near the same account that he does of what passed + between them on her resolution to go to church; and of his proposal + of St. Paul's, and desire of attending her.—She praises his good + behaviour there; as also the discourse, and the preacher.—Is pleased + with its seasonableness.—Gives particulars of the conversation + between them afterwards, and commends the good observations he makes + upon the sermon.] +</pre> + <p> + I am willing, says she, to have hopes of him: but am so unable to know how + to depend upon his seriousness for an hour together, that all my + favourable accounts of him in this respect must be taken with allowance. + </p> + <p> + Being very much pressed, I could not tell how to refuse dining with the + widow and her nieces this day. I am better pleased with them than I ever + thought I should be. I cannot help blaming myself for my readiness to give + severe censures where reputation is concerned. People's ways, humours, + constitutions, education, and opportunities allowed for, my dear, many + persons, as far as I know, may appear blameless, whom others, of different + humours and educations, are too apt to blame; and who, from the same + fault, may be as ready to blame them. I will therefore make it a rule to + myself for the future—Never to judge peremptorily on first + appearances: but yet I must observe that these are not people I should + choose to be intimate with, or whose ways I can like: although, for the + stations they are in, they may go through the world with tolerable credit. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace's behaviour has been such as makes me call this, so far as it + is passed, an agreeable day. Yet, when easiest as to him, my situation + with my friends takes place in my thoughts, and causes me many a tear. + </p> + <p> + I am the more pleased with the people of the house, because of the persons + of rank they are acquainted with, and who visits them. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + I am still well pleased with Mr. Lovelace's behaviour. We have had a good + deal of serious discourse together. The man has really just and good + notions. He confesses how much he is pleased with this day, and hopes for + many such. Nevertheless, he ingenuously warned me, that his unlucky + vivacity might return: but, he doubted not, that he should be fixed at + last by my example and conversation. + </p> + <p> + He has given me an entertaining account of the four gentlemen he is to + meet to-morrow night.—Entertaining, I mean for his humourous + description of their persons, manners, &c. but such a description as + is far from being to their praise. Yet he seemed rather to design to + divert my melancholy by it than to degrade them. I think at bottom, my + dear, that he must be a good-natured man; but that he was spoiled young, + for want of check or controul. + </p> + <p> + I cannot but call this, my circumstances considered, an happy day to the + end of it. Indeed, my dear, I think I could prefer him to all the men I + ever knew, were he but to be always what he has been this day. You see how + ready I am to own all you have charged me with, when I find myself out. It + is a difficult thing, I believe, sometimes, for a young creature that is + able to deliberate with herself, to know when she loves, or when she + hates: but I am resolved, as much as possible, to be determined both in my + hatred and love by actions, as they make the man worthy or unworthy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[She dates again Monday, and declares herself highly displeased at Miss + Partington's being introduced to her: and still more for being obliged + to promise to be present at Mr. Lovelace's collation. She foresees, + she says, a murder'd evening.] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY NIGHT, MAY 1. + </p> + <p> + I have just escaped from a very disagreeable company I was obliged, so + much against my will, to be in. As a very particular relation of this + evening's conversation would be painful to me, you must content yourself + with what you shall be able to collect from the outlines, as I may call + them, of the characters of the persons; assisted by the little histories + Mr. Lovelace gave me of each yesterday. + </p> + <p> + The names of the gentlemen are Belton, Mowbray, Tourville, and Belford. + These four, with Mrs. Sinclair, Miss Partington, the great heiress + mentioned in my last, Mr. Lovelace, and myself, made up the company. + </p> + <p> + I gave you before the favourable side of Miss Partington's character, such + as it was given to me by Mrs. Sinclair, and her nieces. I will now add a + few words from my own observation upon her behaviour in this company. + </p> + <p> + In better company perhaps she would have appeared to less disadvantage: + but, notwithstanding her innocent looks, which Mr. Lovelace also highly + praised, he is the last person whose judgment I would take upon real + modesty. For I observed, that, upon some talk from the gentlemen, not free + enough to be easily censured, yet too indecent in its implication to come + from well-bred persons, in the company of virtuous prople [sic], this + young lady was very ready to apprehend; and yet, by smiles and simperings, + to encourage, rather than discourage, the culpable freedoms of persons, + who, in what they went out of their way to say, must either be guilty of + absurdity, meaning nothing, or meaning something of rudeness.* + </p> + <p> + * Mr. Belford, in Letter XIII. of Vol. V. reminds Mr. Lovelace of some + particular topics which passed in their conversation, extremely to the + Lady's honour. + </p> + <p> + But, indeed, I have seen no women, of whom I had a better opinion than I + can say of Mrs. Sinclair, who have allowed gentlemen, and themselves too, + in greater liberties of this sort than I had thought consistent with that + purity of manners which ought to be the distinguishing characteristic of + our sex: For what are words, but the body and dress of thought? And is not + the mind of a person strongly indicated by outward dress? + </p> + <p> + But to the gentlemen—as they must be called in right of their + ancestors, it seems; for no other do they appear to have:— + </p> + <p> + Mr. BELTON has had university education, and was designed for the gown; + but that not suiting with the gaiety of his temper, and an uncle dying, + who devised to him a good estate, he quitted the college, came up to town, + and commenced fine gentleman. He is said to be a man of sense.— Mr. + Belton dresses gaily, but not quite foppishly; drinks hard; keeps all + hours, and glories in doing so; games, and has been hurt by that + pernicious diversion: he is about thirty years of age: his face is a fiery + red, somewhat bloated and pimply; and his irregularities threaten a brief + duration to the sensual dream he is in: for he has a short consumption + cough, which seems to denote bad lungs; yet makes himself and his friends + merry by his stupid and inconsiderate jests upon very threatening symptoms + which ought to make him more serious. + </p> + <p> + Mr. MOWBRAY has been a great traveller; speaks as many languages as Mr. + Lovelace himself, but not so fluently: is of a good family: seems to be + about thirty-three or thirty-four: tall and comely in his person: bold and + daring in his look: is a large-boned, strong man: has a great scar in his + forehead, with a dent, as if his skull had been beaten in there, and a + seamed scar in his right cheek: he likewise dresses very gaily: has his + servants always about him, whom he is continually calling upon, and + sending on the most trifling messages—half a dozen instances of + which we had in the little time I was among them; while they seem to watch + the turn of his fierce eye, to be ready to run, before they have half his + message, and serve him with fear and trembling. Yet to his equals the man + seems tolerable: he talks not amiss upon public entertainments and + diversions, especially upon those abroad: yet has a romancing air, and + avers things strongly which seem quite improbable. Indeed he doubts + nothing but what he ought to believe; for he jests upon sacred things; and + professes to hate the clergy of all religions. He has high notions of + honour, a world hardly ever out of his mouth; but seems to have no great + regard to morals. + </p> + <p> + Mr. TOURVILLE occasionally told his age; just turned of thirty-one. He is + also of an ancient family; but, in his person and manners, more of what I + call the coxcomb than any of his companions. He dresses richly; would be + thought elegant in the choice and fashion of what he wears; yet, after + all, appears rather tawdry than fine.—One sees by the care he takes + of his outside, and the notice he bespeaks from every one by his own + notice of himself, that the inside takes up the least of his attention. He + dances finely, Mr. Lovelace says; is a master of music, and singing is one + of his principal excellencies. They prevailed upon him to sing, and he + obliged them both in Italian and French; and, to do him justice, his songs + in both were decent. They were all highly delighted with his performance; + but his greatest admirers were, Mrs. Sinclair, Miss Partington, and + himself. To me he appeared to have a great deal of affectation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tourville's conversation and address are insufferably full of those + really gross affronts upon the understanding of our sex, which the moderns + call compliments, and are intended to pass for so many instances of good + breeding, though the most hyperbolical, unnatural stuff that can be + conceived, and which can only serve to show the insincerity of the + complimenter, and the ridiculous light in which the complimented appears + in his eyes, if he supposes a woman capable of relishing the romantic + absurdities of his speeches. + </p> + <p> + He affects to introduce into his common talk Italian and French words; and + often answers an English question in French, which language he greatly + prefers to the barbarously hissing English. But then he never fails to + translate into this his odious native tongue the words and the sentences + he speaks in the other two—lest, perhaps, it should be questioned + whether he understands what he says. + </p> + <p> + He loves to tell stories: always calls them merry, facetious, good, or + excellent, before he begins, in order to bespeak the attention of the + hearers, but never gives himself concern in the progress or conclusion of + them, to make good what he promises in his preface. Indeed he seldom + brings any of them to a conclusion; for if his company have patience to + hear him out, he breaks in upon himself by so many parenthetical + intrusions, as one may call them, and has so many incidents springing in + upon him, that he frequently drops his own thread, and sometimes sits down + satisfied half way; or, if at other times he would resume it, he applies + to his company to help him in again, with a Devil fetch him if he + remembers what he was driving at—but enough, and too much of Mr. + Tourville. + </p> + <p> + Mr. BELFORD is the fourth gentleman, and one of whom Mr. Lovelace seems + more fond than any of the rest; for he is a man of tried bravery, it + seems; and this pair of friends came acquainted upon occasion of a + quarrel, (possibly about a woman,) which brought on a challenge, and a + meeting at Kensington Gravel-pits; which ended without unhappy + consequences, by the mediation of three gentlemen strangers, just as each + had made a pass at the other. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Belford, it seems, is about seven or eight and twenty. He is the + youngest of the five, except Mr. Lovelace, and they are perhaps the + wickedest; for they seem to lead the other three as they please. Mr. + Belford, as the others, dresses gaily; but has not those advantages of + person, nor from his dress, which Mr. Lovelace is too proud of. He has, + however, the appearance and air of a gentleman. He is well read in + classical authors, and in the best English poets and writers; and, by his + means, the conversation took now and then a more agreeable turn. And I, + who endeavoured to put the best face I could upon my situation, as I + passed for Mrs. Lovelace with them, made shift to join in it, at such + times, and received abundance of compliments from all the company, on the + observations I made.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XIII. of Vol. V. above referred to. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Belford seems good-natured and obliging; and although very + complaisant, not so fulsomely so as Mr. Tourville; and has a polite and + easy manner of expressing his sentiments on all occasions. He seems to + delight in a logical way of argumentation, as also does Mr. Belton. These + two attacked each other in this way; and both looked at us women, as if to + observe whether we did not admire this learning, or when they had said a + smart thing, their wit. But Mr. Belford had visibly the advantage of the + other, having quicker parts, and by taking the worst side of the argument, + seemed to think he had. Upon the whole of his behaviour and conversation, + he put me in mind of that character of Milton:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ————His tongue + Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear + The better reason, to perplex and dash + Maturest counsels; for his thoughts were low; + To vice industrious: but to nobler deeds + Tim'rous and slothful: yet he pleased the ear. +</pre> + <p> + How little soever matters in general may be to our liking, we are apt, + when hope is strong enough to permit it, to endeavour to make the best we + can of the lot we have drawn; and I could not but observe often, how much + Mr. Lovelace excelled all his four friends in every thing they seemed + desirous to excel in. But as to wit and vivacity, he had no equal there. + All the others gave up to him, when his lips began to open. The haughty + Mowbray would call upon the prating Tourville for silence, when Lovelace + was going to speak. And when he had spoken, the words, Charming fellow! + with a free word of admiration or envy, fell from every mouth. + </p> + <p> + He has indeed so many advantages in his person and manner, that what would + be inexcusable in another, would, if one watched not over one's self, and + did not endeavour to distinguish what is the essence of right and wrong, + look becoming in him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Belford, to my no small vexation and confusion, with the forwardness + of a favoured and intrusted friend, singled me out, on Mr. Lovelace's + being sent for down, to make me congratulatory compliments on my supposed + nuptials; which he did with a caution, not to insist too long on the + rigorous vow I had imposed upon a man so universally admired— + </p> + <p> + 'See him among twenty men,' said he, 'all of distinction, and nobody is + regarded but Mr. Lovelace.' + </p> + <p> + It must, indeed, be confessed, that there is, in his whole deportment, a + natural dignity, which renders all insolent or imperative demeanour as + unnecessary as inexcusable. Then that deceiving sweetness which appears in + his smiles, in his accent, in his whole aspect, and address, when he + thinks it worth his while to oblige, or endeavour to attract, how does + this show that he was born innocent, as I may say; that he was not + naturally the cruel, the boisterous, the impetuous creature, which the + wicked company he may have fallen into have made him! For he has, besides, + as open, and, I think, an honest countenance. Don't you think so, my dear? + On all these specious appearances, have I founded my hopes of seeing him a + reformed man. + </p> + <p> + But it is amazing to me, I own, that with so much of the gentleman, such a + general knowledge of books and men, such a skill in the learned as well as + modern languages, he can take so much delight as he does in the company of + such persons as I have described, and in subjects of frothy impertinence, + unworthy of his talents, and his natural and acquired advantages. I can + think but of one reason for it, and that must argue a very low mind,—his + vanity; which makes him desirous of being considered as the head of the + people he consorts with.—A man to love praise, yet to be content to + draw it from such contaminated springs! + </p> + <p> + One compliment passed from Mr. Belford to Mr. Lovelace, which hastened my + quitting the shocking company—'You are a happy man, Mr. Lovelace,' + said he, upon some fine speeches made him by Mrs. Sinclair, and assented + to by Miss Partington:—'You have so much courage, and so much wit, + that neither man nor woman can stand before you.' + </p> + <p> + Mr. Belford looked at me when he spoke: yes, my dear, he smilingly looked + at me; and he looked upon his complimented friend; and all their + assenting, and therefore affronting eyes, both men's and women's, were + turned upon your Clarissa; at least, my self-reproaching heart made me + think so; for that would hardly permit my eye to look up. + </p> + <p> + Oh! my dear, were but a woman, who gives reason to the world to think her + to be in love with a man, [And this must be believed to be my case; or to + what can my supposed voluntary going off with Mr. Lovelace be imputed?] to + reflect one moment on the exaltation she gives him, and the disgrace she + brings upon herself,—the low pity, the silent contempt, the insolent + sneers and whispers, to which she makes herself obnoxious from a censuring + world of both sexes,—how would she despise herself! and how much + more eligible would she think death itself than such a discovered + debasement! + </p> + <p> + What I have thus in general touched upon, will account to you why I could + not more particularly relate what passed in this evening's conversation: + which, as may be gathered from what I have written, abounded with + approbatory accusations, and supposed witty retorts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY MIDNIGHT. + </p> + <p> + I am very much vexed and disturbed at an odd incident. Mrs. Sinclair has + just now left me; I believe in displeasure, on my declining to comply with + a request she made me: which was, to admit Miss Partington to a share in + my bed, her house being crowded by her nieces's guests and by their + attendants, as well as by those of Miss Partington. + </p> + <p> + There might be nothing in it; and my denial carried a stiff and ill- + natured appearance. But instantly, upon her making the request, it came + into my thought, 'that I was in a manner a stranger to every body in the + house: not so much as a servant I could call my own, or of whom I had any + great opinion: that there were four men of free manners in the house, + avowed supporters of Mr. Lovelace in matters of offence; himself a man of + enterprise; all, as far as I knew, (and as I had reason to think by their + noisy mirth after I left them,) drinking deeply: that Miss Partington + herself is not so bashful a person as she was represented to me to be: + that officious pains were taken to give me a good opinion of her: and that + Mrs. Sinclair made a greater parade in prefacing the request, than such a + request needed. To deny, thought I, can carry only an appearance of + singularity to people who already think me singular. To consent may + possibly, if not probably, be attended with inconveniencies. The + consequences of the alternative so very disproportionate, I thought it + more prudent to incur the censure, than to risque the inconvenience.' + </p> + <p> + I told her that I was writing a long letter: that I should choose to write + till I were sleepy, and that a companion would be a restraint upon me, and + I upon her. + </p> + <p> + She was loth, she said, that so delicate a young creature, and so great a + fortune as Miss Partington, should be put to lie with Dorcas in a + press-bed. She should be very sorry, if she had asked an improper thing. + She had never been so put to it before. And Miss would stay up with her + till I had done writing. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed at this urgency, and it being easier to persist in a denial given, + than to give it at first, I said, Miss Partington should be welcome to my + whole bed, and I would retire into the dining-room, and there, locking + myself in, write all the night. + </p> + <p> + The poor thing, she said, was afraid to lie alone. To be sure Miss + Partington would not put me to such an inconvenience. + </p> + <p> + She then withdrew,—but returned—begged my pardon for + returning, but the poor child, she said, was in tears.—Miss + Partington had never seen a young lady she so much admired, and so much + wished to imitate as me. The dear girl hoped that nothing had passed in + her behaviour to give me dislike to her.—Should she bring her to me? + </p> + <p> + I was very busy, I said: the letter I was writing was upon a very + important subject. I hoped to see the young lady in the morning, when I + would apologize to her for my particularity. And then Mrs. Sinclair + hesitating, and moving towards the door, (though she turned round to me + again,) I desired her, (lighting her,) to take care how she went down. + </p> + <p> + Pray, Madam, said she, on the stairs-head, don't give yourself all this + trouble. God knows my heart, I meant no affront: but, since you seem to + take my freedom amiss, I beg you will not acquaint Mr. Lovelace with it; + for he perhaps will think me bold and impertinent. + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear, is not this a particular incident, either as I have made it, + or as it was designed? I don't love to do an uncivil thing. And if nothing + were meant by the request, my refusal deserves to be called uncivil. Then + I have shown a suspicion of foul usage by it, which surely dare not be + meant. If just, I ought to apprehend every thing, and fly the house and + the man as I would an infection. If not just, and if I cannot contrive to + clear myself of having entertained suspicions, by assigning some other + plausible reason for my denial, the very staying here will have an + appearance not at all reputable to myself. + </p> + <p> + I am now out of humour with him,—with myself,—with all the + world, but you. His companions are shocking creatures. Why, again I + repeat, should he have been desirous to bring me into such company? Once + more I like him not.—Indeed I do not like him! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER IX + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, MAY 2. + </p> + <p> + With infinite regret I am obliged to tell you, that I can no longer write + to you, or receive letters from you.—Your mother has sent me a + letter enclosed in a cover to Mr. Lovelace, directed for him at Lord M.'s, + (and which was brought him just now,) reproaching me on this subject in + very angry terms, and forbidding me, 'as I would not be thought to intend + to make her and you unhappy, to write to you without her leave.' + </p> + <p> + This, therefore, is the last you must receive from me, till happier days. + And as my prospects are not very bad, I presume we shall soon have leave + to write again; and even to see each other: since an alliance with a + family so honourable as Mr. Lovelace's is will not be a disgrace. + </p> + <p> + She is pleased to write, 'That if I would wish to inflame you, I should + let you know her written prohibition: but if otherwise, find some way of + my own accord (without bringing her into the question) to decline a + correspondence, which I must know she has for some time past forbidden.' + But all I can say is, to beg of you not to be inflamed: to beg of you not + to let her know, or even by your behaviour to her, on this occasion, + guess, that I have acquainted you with my reason for declining to write to + you. For how else, after the scruples I have heretofore made on this very + subject, yet proceeding to correspond, can I honestly satisfy you about my + motives for this sudden stop? So, my dear, I choose, you see, rather to + rely upon your discretion, than to feign reasons with which you would not + be satisfied, but with your usual active penetration, sift to the bottom, + and at last find me to be a mean and low qualifier; and that with an + implication injurious to you, that I supposed you had not prudence enough + to be trusted with the naked truth. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, that my prospects are not bad. 'The house, I presume, will soon + be taken. The people here are very respectful, notwithstanding my nicety + about Miss Partington. Miss Martin, who is near marriage with an eminent + tradesman in the Strand, just now, in a very respectful manner, asked my + opinion of some patterns of rich silks for the occasion. The widow has a + less forbidding appearance than at first. Mr. Lovelace, on my declared + dislike of his four friends, has assured me that neither they nor any body + else shall be introduced to me without my leave.' + </p> + <p> + These circumstances I mention (as you will suppose) that your kind heart + may be at ease about me; that you may be induced by them to acquiesce with + your mother's commands, (cheerfully acquiesce,) and that for my sake, lest + I should be thought an inflamer; who am, with very contrary intentions, my + dearest and best beloved friend, + </p> + <p> + Your ever obliged and affectionate, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER X + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WEDN. MAY 3. + </p> + <p> + I am astonished that my mother should take such a step—purely to + exercise an unreasonable act of authority; and to oblige the most + remorseless hearts in the world. If I find that I can be of use to you, + either by advice or information, do you think I will not give it!—Were + it to any other person, much less dear to me than you are, do you think, + in such a case, I would forbear giving it? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman, who pretends to a little casuistry in such nice matters, is + of opinion that I ought not to decline such a correspondence thus + circumstanced. And it is well he is; for my mother having set me up, I + must have somebody to quarrel with. + </p> + <p> + This I will come into if it will make you easy—I will forbear to + write to you for a few days, if nothing extraordinary happen, and till the + rigour of her prohibition is abated. But be assured that I will not + dispense with your writing to me. My heart, my conscience, my honour, will + not permit it. + </p> + <p> + But how will I help myself?—How!—easily enough. For I do + assure you that I want but very little farther provocation to fly + privately to London. And if I do, I will not leave you till I see you + either honourably married, or absolutely quit of the wretch: and, in this + last case, I will take you down with me, in defiance of the whole world: + or, if you refuse to go with me, stay with you, and accompany you as your + shadow whithersoever you go. + </p> + <p> + Don't be frightened at this declaration. There is but one consideration, + and but one hope, that withhold me, watched as I am in all my retirements; + obliged to read to her without a voice; to work in her presence without + fingers; and to lie with her every night against my will. The + consideration is, lest you should apprehend that a step of this nature + would look like a doubling of your fault, in the eyes of such as think + your going away a fault. The hope is, that things will still end happily, + and that some people will have reason to take shame to themselves for the + sorry part they have acted. Nevertheless I am often balancing—but + your resolving to give up the correspondence at this crisis will turn the + scale. Write, therefore, or take the consequence. + </p> + <p> + A few words upon the subject of your last letters. I know not whether your + brother's wise project be given up or not. A dead silence reigns in your + family. Your brother was absent three days; then at home one; and is now + absent: but whether with Singleton, or not, I cannot find out. + </p> + <p> + By your account of your wretch's companions, I see not but they are a set + of infernals, and he the Beelzebub. What could he mean, as you say, by his + earnestness to bring you into such company, and to give you such an + opportunity to make him and them reflecting-glasses to one another? The + man's a fool, to be sure, my dear—a silly fellow, at least—the + wretches must put on their best before you, no doubt—Lords of the + creation!— noble fellows these!—Yet who knows how many poor + despicable souls of our sex the worst of them has had to whine after him! + </p> + <p> + You have brought an inconvenience upon yourself, as you observe, by your + refusal of Miss Partington for your bedfellow. Pity you had not admitted + her! watchful as you are, what could have happened? If violence were + intended, he would not stay for the night. You might have sat up after + her, or not gone to bed. Mrs. Sinclair pressed it too far. You was + over-scrupulous. + </p> + <p> + If any thing happen to delay your nuptials, I would advise you to remove: + but, if you marry, perhaps you may think it no great matter to stay where + you are till you take possession of your own estate. The knot once tied, + and with so resolute a man, it is my opinion your relations will soon + resign what they cannot legally hold: and, were even a litigation to + follow, you will not be able, nor ought you to be willing, to help it: for + your estate will then be his right; and it will be unjust to wish it to be + withheld from him. + </p> + <p> + One thing I would advise you to think of; and that is, of proper + settlements: it will be to the credit of your prudence and of his justice + (and the more as matters stand) that something of this should be done + before you marry. Bad as he is, nobody accounts him a sordid man. And I + wonder he has been hitherto silent on that subject. + </p> + <p> + I am not displeased with his proposal about the widow lady's house. I + think it will do very well. But if it must be three weeks before you can + be certain about it, surely you need not put off his day for that space: + and he may bespeak his equipages. Surprising to me, as well as to you, + that he could be so acquiescent! + </p> + <p> + I repeat—continue to write to me. I insist upon it; and that as + minutely as possible: or, take the consequence. I send this by a + particular hand. I am, and ever will be, + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, MAY 4. + </p> + <p> + I forego every other engagement, I suspend ever wish, I banish every other + fear, to take up my pen, to beg of you that you will not think of being + guilty of such an act of love as I can never thank you for; but must for + ever regret. If I must continue to write to you, I must. I know full well + your impatience of control, when you have the least imagination that your + generosity or friendship is likely to be wondered at. + </p> + <p> + My dearest, dearest creature, would you incur a maternal, as I have a + paternal, malediction? Would not the world think there was an infection in + my fault, if it were to be followed by Miss Howe? There are some points so + flagrantly wrong that they will not bear to be argued upon. This is one of + them. I need not give reasons against such a rashness. Heaven forbid that + it should be known that you had it but once in your thought, be your + motives ever so noble and generous, to follow so bad an example, the + rather, as that you would, in such a case, want the extenuations that + might be pleaded in my favour; and particularly that one of being + surprised into the unhappy step! + </p> + <p> + The restraint your mother lays you under would not have appeared heavy to + you but on my account. Would you had once thought it a hardship to be + admitted to a part of her bed?—How did I use to be delighted with + such a favour from my mother! how did I love to work in her presence!—So + did you in the presence of your's once. And to read to her in winter + evenings I know was one of your joys.—Do not give me cause to + reproach myself on the reason that may be assigned for the change in you. + </p> + <p> + Learn, my dear, I beseech you, learn to subdue your own passions. Be the + motives what they will, excess is excess. Those passions in our sex, which + we take pains to subdue, may have one and the same source with those + infinitely-blacker passions, which we used so often to condemn in the + violent and headstrong of the other sex; and which may only be heightened + in them by custom, and their freer education. Let us both, my dear, ponder + well this thought: look into ourselves, and fear. + </p> + <p> + If I write, as I find I must, I insist upon your forbearing to write. Your + silence to this shall be the sign to me that you will not think of the + rashness you threaten me with: and that you will obey your mother as to + your own part of the correspondence, however; especially as you can inform + or advise me in every weighty case by Mr. Hickman's pen. + </p> + <p> + My trembling writing will show you, my dear impetuous creature, what a + trembling heart you have given to + </p> + <p> + Your ever obliged, Or, if you take so rash a step, Your for ever + disobliged, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + My clothes were brought to me just now. But you have so much discomposed + me, that I have no heart to look into the trunks. Why, why, my dear, will + you fright me with your flaming love? discomposure gives distress to a + weak heart, whether it arise from friendship or enmity. + </p> + <p> + A servant of Mr. Lovelace carries this to Mr. Hickman for dispatch-sake. + Let that worthy man's pen relieve my heart from this new uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XII + </h2> + <p> + MR. HICKMAN, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE [SENT TO WILSON'S BY A PARTICULAR + HAND.] FRIDAY, MAY 5. + </p> + <p> + MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I have the honour of dear Miss Howe's commands to acquaint you, without + knowing the occasion, 'That she is excessively concerned for the concern + she has given you in her last letter: and that, if you will but write to + her, under cover as before, she will have no thoughts of what you are so + very apprehensive about.'—Yet she bid me write, 'That if she had but + the least imagination that she can serve you, and save you,' those are her + words, 'all the censures of the world will be but of second consideration + with her.' I have great temptations, on this occasion, to express my own + resentments upon your present state; but not being fully apprized of what + that is—only conjecturing from the disturbance upon the mind of the + dearest lady in the world to me, and the most sincere of friends to you, + that that is not altogether so happy as were to be wished; and being, + moreover, forbid to enter into the cruel subject; I can only offer, as I + do, my best and faithfullest services! and wish you a happy deliverance + from all your troubles. For I am, + </p> + <p> + Most excellent young lady, Your faithful and most obedient servant, CH. + HICKMAN. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 2. + </p> + <p> + Mercury, as the fabulist tells us, having the curiosity to know the + estimation he stood in among mortals, descended in disguise, and in a + statuary's shop cheapened a Jupiter, then a Juno, then one, then another, + of the dii majores; and, at last, asked, What price that same statue of + Mercury bore? O Sir, says the artist, buy one of the others, and I'll + throw you in that for nothing. + </p> + <p> + How sheepish must the god of thieves look upon this rebuff to his vanity! + </p> + <p> + So thou! a thousand pounds wouldst thou give for the good opinion of this + single lady—to be only thought tolerably of, and not quite unworthy + of her conversation, would make thee happy. And at parting last night, or + rather this morning, thou madest me promise a few lines to Edgware, to let + thee know what she thinks of thee, and of thy brethren. + </p> + <p> + Thy thousand pounds, Jack, is all thy own: for most heartily does she + dislike ye all—thee as much as any of the rest. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry for it too, as to thy part; for two reasons—one, that I + think thy motive for thy curiosity was fear of consciousness: whereas that + of the arch-thief was vanity, intolerable vanity: and he was therefore + justly sent away with a blush upon his cheeks to heaven, and could not + brag—the other, that I am afraid, if she dislikes thee, she dislikes + me: for are we not birds of a feather? + </p> + <p> + I must never talk of reformation, she told me, having such companions, and + taking such delight, as I seemed to take, in their frothy conversation. + </p> + <p> + I, no more than you, Jack, imagined she could possibly like ye: but then, + as my friends, I thought a person of her education would have been more + sparing of her censures. + </p> + <p> + I don't know how it is, Belford; but women think themselves entitled to + take any freedoms with us; while we are unpolite, forsooth, and I can't + tell what, if we don't tell a pack of cursed lies, and make black white, + in their favour—teaching us to be hypocrites, yet stigmatizing us, + at other times, for deceivers. + </p> + <p> + I defended ye all as well as I could: but you know there was no attempting + aught but a palliative defence, to one of her principles. + </p> + <p> + I will summarily give thee a few of my pleas. + </p> + <p> + 'To the pure, every little deviation seemed offensive: yet I saw not, that + there was any thing amiss the whole evening, either in the words or + behaviour of any of my friends. Some people could talk but upon one or two + subjects: she upon every one: no wonder, therefore, they talked to what + they understood best; and to mere objects of sense. Had she honoured us + with more of her conversation, she would have been less disgusted with + ours; for she saw how every one was prepared to admire her, whenever she + opened her lips. You, in particular, had said, when she retired, that + virtue itself spoke when she spoke, but that you had such an awe upon you, + after she had favoured us with an observation or two on a subject started, + that you should ever be afraid in her company to be found most + exceptionable, when you intended to be least so.' + </p> + <p> + Plainly, she said, she neither liked my companions nor the house she was + in. + </p> + <p> + I liked not the house any more than she: though the people were very + obliging, and she had owned they were less exceptionable to herself than + at first: And were we not about another of our own? + </p> + <p> + She did not like Miss Partington—let her fortune be what it would, + and she had heard a great deal said of her fortune, she should not choose + an intimacy with her. She thought it was a hardship to be put upon such a + difficulty as she was put upon the preceding night, when there were + lodgers in the front-house, whom they had reason to be freer with, than, + upon so short an acquaintance, with her. + </p> + <p> + I pretended to be an utter stranger as to this particular; and, when she + explained herself upon it, condemned Mrs. Sinclair's request, and called + it a confident one. + </p> + <p> + She, artfully, made lighter of her denial of the girl for a bedfellow, + than she thought of it, I could see that; for it was plain, she supposed + there was room for me to think she had been either over-nice, or over- + cautious. + </p> + <p> + I offered to resent Mrs. Sinclair's freedom. + </p> + <p> + No; there was no great matter in it. It was best to let it pass. It might + be thought more particular in her to deny such a request, than in Mrs. + Sinclair to make it, or in Miss Partington to expect it to be complied + with. But as the people below had a large acquaintance, she did not know + how often she might indeed have her retirements invaded, if she gave way. + And indeed there were levities in the behaviour of that young lady, which + she could not so far pass over as to wish an intimacy with her. + </p> + <p> + I said, I liked Miss Partington as little as she could. Miss Partington + was a silly young creature; who seemed to justify the watchfulness of her + guardians over her.—But nevertheless, as to her own, that I thought + the girl (for girl she was, as to discretion) not exceptionable; only + carrying herself like a free good-natured creature who believed herself + secure in the honour of her company. + </p> + <p> + It was very well said of me, she replied: but if that young lady were so + well satisfied with her company, she must needs say, that I was very kind + to suppose her such an innocent—for her own part, she had seen + nothing of the London world: but thought, she must tell me plainly, that + she never was in such company in her life; nor ever again wished to be in + such. + </p> + <p> + There, Belford!—Worse off than Mercury!—Art thou not? + </p> + <p> + I was nettled. Hard would be the lot of more discreet women, as far as I + knew, that Miss Partington, were they to be judged by so rigid a virtue as + hers. + </p> + <p> + Not so, she said: but if I really saw nothing exceptionable to a virtuous + mind, in that young person's behaviour, my ignorance of better behaviour + was, she must needs tell me, as pitiable as hers: and it were to be + wished, that minds so paired, for their own sakes should never be + separated. + </p> + <p> + See, Jack, what I get by my charity! + </p> + <p> + I thanked her heartily. But said, that I must take the liberty to observe, + that good folks were generally so uncharitable, that, devil take me, if I + would choose to be good, were the consequence to be that I must think + hardly of the whole world besides. + </p> + <p> + She congratulated me upon my charity; but told me, that to enlarge her + own, she hoped it would not be expected of her to approve of the low + company I had brought her into last night. + </p> + <p> + No exception for thee, Belford!—Safe is thy thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + I saw not, I said, begging her pardon, that she liked any body.—[Plain + dealing for plain dealing, Jack!—Why then did she abuse my friends?] + However, let me but know whom and what she did or did not like; and, if + possible, I would like and dislike the very same persons and things. + </p> + <p> + She bid me then, in a pet, dislike myself. + </p> + <p> + Cursed severe!—Does she think she must not pay for it one day, or + one night?—And if one, many; that's my comfort. + </p> + <p> + I was in such a train of being happy, I said, before my earnestness to + procure her to favour my friends with her company, that I wished the devil + had had as well my friends as Miss Partington—and yet, I must say, + that I saw not how good people could answer half their end, which is to + reform the wicked by precept as well as example, were they to accompany + only with the good. + </p> + <p> + I had the like to have been blasted by two or three flashes of lightning + from her indignant eyes; and she turned scornfully from me, and retired to + her own apartment. + </p> + <p> + Once more, Jack, safe, as thou seest, is thy thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + She says, I am not a polite man. But is she, in the instance before us, + more polite for a woman? + </p> + <p> + And now, dost thou not think that I owe my charmer some revenge for her + cruelty in obliging such a fine young creature, and so vast a fortune, as + Miss Partington, to crowd into a press-bed with Dorcas the maid-servant of + the proud refuser?—Miss Partington too (with tears) declared, by + Mrs. Sinclair, that would Mrs. Lovelace do her the honour of a visit at + Barnet, the best bed and best room in her guardian's house should be at + her service. Thinkest thou that I could not guess at her dishonourable + fears of me?—that she apprehended, that the supposed husband would + endeavour to take possession of his own?—and that Miss Partington + would be willing to contribute to such a piece of justice? + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, thou both remindest, and defiest me, charmer!—And since + thou reliest more on thy own precaution than upon my honour; be it unto + thee, fair one, as thou apprehendest. + </p> + <p> + And now, Jack, let me know, what thy opinion, and the opinions of thy + brother varlets, are of my Gloriana. + </p> + <p> + I have just now heard, that Hannah hopes to be soon well enough to attend + her young lady, when in London. It seems the girl has had no physician. I + must send her one, out of pure love and respect to her mistress. Who knows + but medicine may weaken nature, and strengthen the disease?—As her + malady is not a fever, very likely it may do so.—But perhaps the + wench's hopes are too forward. Blustering weather in this month yet.—And + that is bad for rheumatic complaints. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 2. + </p> + <p> + Just as I had sealed up the enclosed, comes a letter to my beloved, in a + cover to me, directed to Lord M.'s. From whom, thinkest thou?—From + Mrs. Howe! + </p> + <p> + And what the contents? + </p> + <p> + How should I know, unless the dear creature had communicated them to me? + But a very cruel letter I believe it is, by the effect it had upon her. + The tears ran down her cheeks as she read it; and her colour changed + several times. No end of her persecutions, I think! + </p> + <p> + 'What a cruelty in my fate!' said the sweet lamenter.—'Now the only + comfort of my life must be given up!' + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe's correspondence, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + But should she be so much grieved at this? This correspondence was + prohibited before, and that, to the daughter, in the strongest terms: but + yet carried on by both; although a brace of impeccables, an't please ye. + Could they expect, that a mother would not vindicate her authority? + —and finding her prohibition ineffectual with her perverse daughter, + was it not reasonable to suppose she would try what effect it would have + upon her daughter's friend?—And now I believe the end will be + effectually answered: for my beloved, I dare say, will make a point of + conscience of it. + </p> + <p> + I hate cruelty, especially in women; and should have been more concerned + for this instance of it in Mrs. Howe, had I not had a stronger instance of + the same in my beloved to Miss Partington: For how did she know, since she + was so much afraid for herself, whom Dorcas might let in to that innocent + and less watchful young lady? But nevertheless I must needs own, that I am + not very sorry for this prohibition, let it originally come from the + Harlowes, or from whom it will; because I make no doubt, that it is owing + to Miss Howe, in a great measure, that my beloved is so much upon her + guard, and thinks so hardly of me. And who can tell, as characters here + are so tender, and some disguises so flimsy, what consequences might + follow this undutiful correspondence?—I say, therefore, I am not + sorry for it: now will she not have any body to compare notes with: any + body to alarm her: and I may be saved the guilt and disobligation of + inspecting into a correspondence that has long made me uneasy. + </p> + <p> + How every thing works for me!—Why will this charming creature make + such contrivances necessary, as will increase my trouble, and my guilt + too, as some will account it? But why, rather I should ask, will she fight + against her stars? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XV + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. EDGWARE, TUESDAY NIGHT, MAY 2. + </p> + <p> + Without staying for the promised letter from you to inform us what the + lady says of us, I write to tell you, that we are all of one opinion with + regard to her; which is, that there is not of her age a finer woman in the + world, as to her understanding. As for her person, she is at the age of + bloom, and an admirable creature; a perfect beauty: but this poorer + praise, a man, who has been honoured with her conversation, can hardly + descend to give; and yet she was brought amongst us contrary to her will. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, dear Lovelace, to be a mean of saving this excellent creature + from the dangers she hourly runs from the most plotting heart in the + world. In a former, I pleaded your own family, Lord M.'s wishes + particularly; and then I had not seen her: but now, I join her sake, + honour's sake, motives of justice, generosity, gratitude, and humanity, + which are all concerned in the preservation of so fine a woman. Thou + knowest not the anguish I should have had, (whence arising, I cannot + devise,) had I not known before I set out this morning, that the + incomparable creature had disappointed thee in thy cursed view of getting + her to admit the specious Partington for a bed-fellow. + </p> + <p> + I have done nothing but talk of this lady ever since I saw her. There is + something so awful, and yet so sweet, in her aspect, that were I to have + the virtues and the graces all drawn in one piece, they should be taken, + every one of them, from different airs and attributes in her. She was born + to adorn the age she was given to, and would be an ornament to the first + dignity. What a piercing, yet gentle eye; every glance I thought mingled + with love and fear of you! What a sweet smile darting through the cloud + that overspread her fair face, demonstrating that she had more + apprehensions and grief at her heart than she cared to express! + </p> + <p> + You may think what I am going to write too flighty: but, by my faith, I + have conceived such a profound reverence for her sense and judgment, that, + far from thinking the man excusable who should treat her basely, I am + ready to regret that such an angel of a woman should even marry. She is in + my eye all mind: and were she to meet with a man all mind likewise, why + should the charming qualities she is mistress of be endangered? Why should + such an angel be plunged so low as into the vulgar offices of a domestic + life? Were she mine, I should hardly wish to see her a mother, unless + there were a kind of moral certainty, that minds like hers could be + propagated. For why, in short, should not the work of bodies be left to + mere bodies? I know, that you yourself have an opinion of her little less + exalted. Belton, Mowbray, Tourville, are all of my mind; are full of her + praises; and swear, it would be a million of pities to ruin a woman in + whose fall none but devils can rejoice. + </p> + <p> + What must that merit and excellence be which can extort this from us, + freelivers, like yourself, and all of your just resentments against the + rest of her family, and offered our assistance to execute your vengeance + on them? But we cannot think it reasonable that you should punish an + innocent creature, who loves you so well, and who is in your protection, + and has suffered so much for you, for the faults of her relations. + </p> + <p> + And here let me put a serious question or two. Thinkest thou, truly + admirable as this lady is, that the end thou proposest to thyself, if + obtained, is answerable to the means, to the trouble thou givest thyself, + and to the perfidies, tricks, stratagems, and contrivances thou has + already been guilty of, and still meditatest? In every real excellence she + surpasses all her sex. But in the article thou seekest to subdue her for, + a mere sensualist, a Partington, a Horton, a Martin, would make a + sensualist a thousand times happier than she either will or can. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sweet are the joys that come with willingness. +</pre> + <p> + And wouldst thou make her unhappy for her whole life, and thyself not + happy for a single moment? + </p> + <p> + Hitherto, it is not too late; and that perhaps is as much as can be said, + if thou meanest to preserve her esteem and good opinion, as well as + person; for I think it is impossible she can get out of thy hands now she + is in this accursed house. O that damned hypocritical Sinclair, as thou + callest her! How was it possible she should behave so speciously as she + did all the time the lady staid with us!—Be honest, and marry; and + be thankful that she will condescend to have thee. If thou dost not, thou + wilt be the worst of men; and wilt be condemned in this world and the + next: as I am sure thou oughtest, and shouldest too, wert thou to be + judged by one, who never before was so much touched in a woman's favour; + and whom thou knowest to be + </p> + <p> + Thy partial friend, J. BELFORD. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Our companions consented that I should withdraw to write to the above +effect. They can make nothing of the characters we write in; and so I +read this to them. They approve of it; and of their own motion each man +would set his name to it. I would not delay sending it, for fear of some +detestable scheme taking place. + THOMAS BELTON, + RICHARD MOWBRAY, + JAMES TOURVILLE. +</pre> + <p> + Just now are brought me both yours. I vary not my opinion, nor forbear my + earnest prayers to you in her behalf, notwithstanding her dislike of me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, MAY 3. + </p> + <p> + When I have already taken pains to acquaint thee in full with regard to my + views, designs, and resolutions, with regard to this admirable woman, it + is very extraordinary that thou shouldst vapour as thou dost in her + behalf, when I have made no trial, no attempt: and yet, givest it as thy + opinion in a former letter, that advantage may be taken of the situation + she is in; and that she may be overcome. + </p> + <p> + Most of thy reflections, particularly that which respects the difference + as to the joys to be given by the virtuous and libertine of her sex, are + fitter to come in as after-reflections than as antecedencies. + </p> + <p> + I own with thee, and with the poet, that sweet are the joys that come with + willingness—But is it to be expected, that a woman of education, and + a lover of forms, will yield before she is attacked? And have I so much as + summoned this to surrender? I doubt not but I shall meet with difficulty. + I must therefore make my first effort by surprise. There may possibly be + some cruelty necessary: but there may be consent in struggle; there may be + yielding in resistance. But the first conflict over, whether the following + may not be weaker and weaker, till willingness ensue, is the point to be + tried. I will illustrate what I have said by the simile of a bird new + caught. We begin, when boys, with birds; and when grown up, go on to + women; and both perhaps, in turn, experience our sportive cruelty. + </p> + <p> + Hast thou not observed, the charming gradations by which the ensnared + volatile has been brought to bear with its new condition? how, at first, + refusing all sustenance, it beats and bruises itself against its wires, + till it makes its gay plumage fly about, and over-spread its well-secured + cage. Now it gets out its head; sticking only at its beautiful shoulders: + then, with difficulty, drawing back its head, it gasps for breath, and + erectly perched, with meditating eyes, first surveys, and then attempts, + its wired canopy. As it gets its pretty head and sides, bites the wires, + and pecks at the fingers of its delighted tamer. Till at last, finding its + efforts ineffectual, quite tired and breathless, it lays itself down, and + pants at the bottom of the cage, seeming to bemoan its cruel fate and + forfeited liberty. And after a few days, its struggles to escape still + diminishing as it finds it to no purpose to attempt it, its new habitation + becomes familiar; and it hops about from perch to perch, resumes its + wonted cheerfulness, and every day sings a song to amuse itself and reward + its keeper. + </p> + <p> + Now let me tell thee, that I have known a bird actually starve itself, and + die with grief, at its being caught and caged. But never did I meet with a + woman who was so silly.—Yet have I heard the dear souls most + vehemently threaten their own lives on such an occasion. But it is saying + nothing in a woman's favour, if we do not allow her to have more sense + than a bird. And yet we must all own, that it is more difficult to catch a + bird than a lady. + </p> + <p> + To pursue the comparison—If the disappointment of the captivated + lady be very great, she will threaten, indeed, as I said: she will even + refuse her sustenance for some time, especially if you entreat her much, + and she thinks she gives you concern by her refusal. But then the stomach + of the dear sullen one will soon return. 'Tis pretty to see how she comes + to by degrees: pressed by appetite, she will first steal, perhaps, a + weeping morsel by herself; then be brought to piddle and sigh, and sigh + and piddle before you; now-and-then, if her viands be unsavoury, + swallowing with them a relishing tear or two: then she comes to eat and + drink, to oblige you: then resolves to live for your sake: her + exclamations will, in the next place, be turned into blandishments; her + vehement upbraidings into gentle murmuring—how dare you, traitor!—into + how could you, dearest! She will draw you to her, instead of pushing you + from her: no longer, with unsheathed claws, will she resist you; but, like + a pretty, playful, wanton kitten, with gentle paws, and concealed talons, + tap your cheek, and with intermingled smiles, and tears, and caresses, + implore your consideration for her, and your constancy: all the favour she + then has to ask of you!—And this is the time, were it given to man + to confine himself to one object, to be happier every day than another. + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, were I to go no farther than I have gone with my beloved + Miss Harlowe, how shall I know the difference between her and another + bird? To let her fly now, what a pretty jest would that be!—How do I + know, except I try, whether she may not be brought to sing me a fine song, + and to be as well contented as I have brought other birds to be, and very + shy ones too? + </p> + <p> + But now let us reflect a little upon the confounded partiality of us human + creatures. I can give two or three familiar, and if they were not + familiar, they would be shocking, instances of the cruelty both of men and + women, with respect to other creatures, perhaps as worthy as (at least + more innocent than) themselves. By my soul, Jack, there is more of the + savage on human nature than we are commonly aware of. Nor is it, after + all, so much amiss, that we sometimes avenge the more innocent animals + upon our own species. + </p> + <p> + To particulars: + </p> + <p> + How usual a thing is it for women as well as men, without the least + remorse, to ensnare, to cage, and torment, and even with burning + knitting-needles to put out the eyes of the poor feather'd songster [thou + seest I have not yet done with birds]; which however, in proportion to its + bulk, has more life than themselves (for a bird is all soul;) and of + consequence has as much feeling as the human creature! when at the same + time, if an honest fellow, by the gentlest persuasion, and the softest + arts, has the good luck to prevail upon a mew'd-up lady, to countenance + her own escape, and she consents to break cage, and be set a flying into + the all-cheering air of liberty, mercy on us! what an outcry is generally + raised against him! + </p> + <p> + Just like what you and I once saw raised in a paltry village near + Chelmsford, after a poor hungry fox, who, watching his opportunity, had + seized by the neck, and shouldered a sleek-feathered goose: at what time + we beheld the whole vicinage of boys and girls, old men, and old women, + all the furrows and wrinkles of the latter filled up with malice for the + time; the old men armed with prongs, pitch-forks, clubs, and catsticks; + the old women with mops, brooms, fire-shovels, tongs, and pokers; and the + younger fry with dirt, stones, and brickbats, gathering as they ran like a + snowball, in pursuit of the wind-outstripping prowler; all the mongrel + curs of the circumjacencies yelp, yelp, yelp, at their heels, completing + the horrid chorus. + </p> + <p> + Rememebrest thou not this scene? Surely thou must. My imagination, + inflamed by a tender sympathy for the danger of the adventurous marauder, + represents it to my eye as if it were but yesterday. And dost thou not + recollect how generously glad we were, as if our own case, that honest + reynard, by the help of a lucky stile, over which both old and young + tumbled upon one another, and a winding course, escaped their brutal fury, + and flying catsticks; and how, in fancy, we followed him to his + undiscovered retreat; and imagined we beheld the intrepid thief enjoying + his dear-earned purchase with a delight proportioned to his past danger? + </p> + <p> + I once made a charming little savage severely repent the delight she took + in seeing her tabby favourite make cruel sport with a pretty sleek bead- + eyed mouse, before she devoured it. Egad, my love, said I to myself, as I + sat meditating the scene, I am determined to lie in wait for a fit + opportunity to try how thou wilt like to be tost over my head, and be + caught again: how thou wilt like to be parted from me, and pulled to me. + Yet will I rather give life than take it away, as this barbarous quadruped + has at last done by her prey. And after all was over between my girl and + me, I reminded her of the incident to which my resolution was owing. + </p> + <p> + Nor had I at another time any mercy upon the daughter of an old epicure, + who had taught the girl, without the least remorse, to roast lobsters + alive; to cause a poor pig to be whipt to death; to scrape carp the + contrary way of the scales, making them leap in the stew-pan, and dressing + them in their own blood for sauce. And this for luxury-sake, and to + provoke an appetite; which I had without stimulation, in my way, and that + I can tell thee a very ravenous one. + </p> + <p> + Many more instances of the like nature could I give, were I to leave + nothing to thyself, to shew that the best take the same liberties, and + perhaps worse, with some sort of creatures, that we take with others; all + creatures still! and creatures too, as I have observed above, replete with + strong life, and sensible feeling!—If therefore people pretend to + mercy, let mercy go through all their actions. I have heard somewhere, + that a merciful man is merciful to his beast. + </p> + <p> + So much at present for those parts of thy letter in which thou urgest to + me motives of compassion for the lady. + </p> + <p> + But I guess at thy principal motive in this thy earnestness in behalf of + this charming creature. I know that thou correspondest with Lord M. who is + impatient, and has long been desirous to see me shackled. And thou wantest + to make a merit with the uncle, with a view to one of his nieces. But + knowest thou not, that my consent will be wanting to complete thy wishes?—And + what a commendation will it be of thee to such a girl as Charlotte, when I + shall acquaint her with the affront thou puttest upon the whole sex, by + asking, Whether I think my reward, when I have subdued the most charming + woman in the world, will be equal to my trouble?— Which, thinkest + thou, will a woman of spirit soonest forgive; the undervaluing varlet who + can put such a question; or him, who prefers the pursuit and conquest of a + fine woman to all the joys of life? Have I not known even a virtuous + woman, as she would be thought, vow everlasting antipathy to a man who + gave out that she was too old for him to attempt? And did not Essex's + personal reflection on Queen Elizabeth, that she was old and crooked, + contribute more to his ruin than his treason? + </p> + <p> + But another word or two, as to thy objection relating to my trouble and + reward. + </p> + <p> + Does not the keen fox-hunter endanger his neck and his bones in pursuit of + a vermin, which, when killed, is neither fit food for men nor dogs? + </p> + <p> + Do not the hunters of the noble game value the venison less than the + sport? + </p> + <p> + Why then should I be reflected upon, and the sex affronted, for my + patience and perseverance in the most noble of all chases; and for not + being a poacher in love, as thy question be made to imply? + </p> + <p> + Learn of thy master, for the future, to treat more respectfully a sex that + yields us our principal diversions and delights. + </p> + <p> + Proceed anon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + Well sayest thou, that mine is the most plotting heart in the world. Thou + dost me honour; and I thank thee heartily. Thou art no bad judge. How like + Boileau's parson I strut behind my double chin! Am I not obliged to + deserve thy compliment? And wouldst thou have me repent of a murder before + I have committed it? + </p> + <p> + 'The Virtues and Graces are this Lady's handmaids. She was certainly born + to adorn the age she was given to.'—Well said, Jack—'And would + be an ornament to the first dignity.' But what praise is that, unless the + first dignity were adorned with the first merit?—Dignity! gew-gaw!— + First dignity! thou idiot!—Art thou, who knowest me, so taken with + ermine and tinsel?—I, who have won the gold, am only fit to wear it. + For the future therefore correct thy style, and proclaim her the ornament + of the happiest man, and (respecting herself and sex) the greatest + conqueror in the world. + </p> + <p> + Then, that she loves me, as thou imaginest, by no means appears clear to + me. Her conditional offers to renounce me; the little confidence she + places in me; entitle me to ask, What merit can she have with a man, who + won her in spite of herself; and who fairly, in set and obstinate battle, + took her prisoner? + </p> + <p> + As to what thou inferrest from her eye when with us, thou knowest nothing + of her heart from that, if thou imaginest there was one glance of love + shot from it. Well did I note her eye, and plainly did I see, that it was + all but just civil disgust to me and to the company I had brought her + into. Her early retiring that night, against all entreaty, might have + convinced thee, that there was very little of the gentle in her heart for + me. And her eye never knew what it was to contradict her heart. + </p> + <p> + She is, thou sayest, all mind. So say I. But why shouldst thou imagine + that such a mind as hers, meeting with such a one as mine, and, to dwell + upon the word, meeting with an inclination in hers, should not propagate + minds like her own? + </p> + <p> + Were I to take thy stupid advice, and marry; what a figure should I make + in rakish annals! The lady in my power: yet not have intended to put + herself in my power: declaring against love, and a rebel to it: so much + open-eyed caution: no confidence in my honour: her family expecting the + worst hath passed: herself seeming to expect that the worst will be + attempted: [Priscilla Partington for that!] What! wouldst thou not have me + act in character? + </p> + <p> + But why callest thou the lady innocent? And why sayest thou she loves me? + </p> + <p> + By innocent, with regard to me, and not taken as a general character, I + must insist upon it she is not innocent. Can she be innocent, who, by + wishing to shackle me in the prime and glory of my youth, with such a + capacity as I have for noble mischief,* would make my perdition more + certain, were I to break, as I doubt I should, the most solemn vow I could + make? I say no man ought to take even a common oath, who thinks he cannot + keep it. This is conscience! This is honour!—And when I think I can + keep the marriage-vow, then will it be time to marry. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXIII. Paragr. 4. + </p> + <p> + No doubt of it, as thou sayest, the devils would rejoice in the fall of + such a woman. But this is my confidence, that I shall have it in my power + to marry when I will. And if I do her this justice, shall I not have a + claim of her gratitude? And will she not think herself the obliged, rather + than the obliger? Then let me tell thee, Belford, it is impossible so far + to hurt the morals of this lady, as thou and thy brother varlets have hurt + others of the sex, who now are casting about the town firebrands and + double death. Take ye that thistle to mumble upon. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + A short interruption. I now resume. + </p> + <p> + That the morals of this lady cannot fail, is a consideration that will + lessen the guilt on both sides. And if, when subdued, she knows but how to + middle the matter between virtue and love, then will she be a wife for me: + for already I am convinced that there is not a woman in the world that is + love-proof and plot-proof, if she be not the person. + </p> + <p> + And now imagine (the charmer overcome) thou seest me sitting supinely + cross-kneed, reclining on my sofa, the god of love dancing in my eyes, and + rejoicing in every mantling feature; the sweet rogue, late such a proud + rogue, wholly in my power, moving up slowly to me, at my beck, with + heaving sighs, half-pronounced upbraidings from murmuring lips, her finger + in her eye, and quickening her pace at my Come hither, dearest! + </p> + <p> + One hand stuck in my side, the other extended to encourage her bashful + approach—Kiss me, love!—sweet, as Jack Belford says, are the + joys that come with willingness. + </p> + <p> + She tenders her purple mouth [her coral lips will be purple then, Jack!]: + sigh not so deeply, my beloved!—Happier hours await thy humble love, + than did thy proud resistance. + </p> + <p> + Once more bent to my ardent lips the swanny glossiness of a neck late so + stately.— + </p> + <p> + There's my precious! + </p> + <p> + Again! + </p> + <p> + Obliging loveliness! + </p> + <p> + O my ever-blooming glory! I have tried thee enough. To-morrow's sun— + </p> + <p> + Then I rise, and fold to my almost-talking heart the throbbing-bosom'd + charmer. + </p> + <p> + And now shall thy humble pride confess its obligation to me! + </p> + <p> + To-morrow's sun—and then I disengage myself from the bashful + passive, and stalk about the room—to-morrow's sun shall gild the + altar at which my vows shall be paid thee! + </p> + <p> + Then, Jack, the rapture! then the darted sun-beams from her gladdened eye, + drinking up, at one sip, the precious distillation from the pearl- dropt + cheek! Then hands ardently folded, eyes seeming to pronounce, God bless my + Lovelace! to supply the joy-locked tongue: her transports too strong, and + expression too weak, to give utterance to her grateful meanings!—All—all + the studies—all the studies of her future life vowed and devoted + (when she can speak) to acknowledge and return the perpetual obligation! + </p> + <p> + If I could bring my charmer to this, would it not be the eligible of + eligibles?—Is it not worth trying for?—As I said, I can marry + her when I will. She can be nobody's but mine, neither for shame, nor by + choice, nor yet by address: for who, that knows my character, believes + that the worst she dreads is now to be dreaded? + </p> + <p> + I have the highest opinion that man can have (thou knowest I have) of the + merit and perfections of this admirable woman; of her virtue and honour + too, although thou, in a former, art of opinion that she may be overcome.* + Am I not therefore obliged to go further, in order to contradict thee, + and, as I have often urged, to be sure that she is what I really think her + to be, and, if I am ever to marry her, hope to find her? + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter LI. Paragr. 9. + </p> + <p> + Then this lady is a mistress of our passions: no one ever had to so much + perfection the art of moving. This all her family know, and have equally + feared and revered her for it. This I know too; and doubt not more and + more to experience. How charmingly must this divine creature warble forth + (if a proper occasion be given) her melodious elegiacs!—Infinite + beauties are there in a weeping eye. I first taught the two nymphs below + to distinguish the several accents of the lamentable in a new subject, and + how admirably some, more than others, become their distresses. + </p> + <p> + But to return to thy objections—Thou wilt perhaps tell me, in the + names of thy brethren, as well as in thy own name, that, among all the + objects of your respective attempts, there was not one of the rank and + merit of my charming Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + But let me ask, Has it not been a constant maxim with us, that the greater + the merit on the woman's side, the nobler the victory on the man's? And as + to rank, sense of honour, sense of shame, pride of family, may make rifled + rank get up, and shake itself to rights: and if any thing come of it, such + a one may suffer only in her pride, by being obliged to take up with a + second-rate match instead of a first; and, as it may fall out, be the + happier, as well as the more useful, for the misadventure; since (taken + off of her public gaddings, and domesticated by her disgrace) she will + have reason to think herself obliged to the man who has saved her from + further reproach; while her fortune and alliance will lay an obligation + upon him; and her past fall, if she have prudence and consciousness, will + be his present and future security. + </p> + <p> + But a poor girl [such a one as my Rosebud for instance] having no recalls + from education; being driven out of every family that pretends to + reputation; persecuted most perhaps by such as have only kept their secret + better; and having no refuge to fly to—the common, the stews, the + street, is the fate of such a poor wretch; penury, want, and disease, her + sure attendants; and an untimely end perhaps closes the miserable scene. + </p> + <p> + And will you not now all join to say, that it is more manly to attach a + lion than a sheep?—Thou knowest, that I always illustrated my + eagleship, by aiming at the noblest quarries; and by disdaining to make a + stoop at wrens, phyl-tits,* and wag-tails. + </p> + <p> + * Phyl-tits, q. d. Phyllis-tits, in opposition to Tom-tits. It needs not + now be observed, that Mr. Lovelace, in this wanton gaiety of his heart, + often takes liberties of coining words and phrases in his letters to this + his familiar friend. See his ludicrous reason for it in Vol. III. Letter + XXV. Paragr. antepenult. + </p> + <p> + The worst respecting myself, in the case before me, is that my triumph, + when completed, will be so glorious a one, that I shall never be able to + keep up to it. All my future attempts must be poor to this. I shall be as + unhappy, after a while, from my reflections upon this conquest, as Don + Juan of Austria was in his, on the renowned victory of Lepanto, when he + found that none of future achievements could keep pace with his early + glory. + </p> + <p> + I am sensible that my pleas and my reasoning may be easily answered, and + perhaps justly censured; But by whom censured? Not by any of the + confraternity, whose constant course of life, even long before I became + your general, to this hour, has justified what ye now in a fit of + squeamishness, and through envy, condemn. Having, therefore, vindicated + myself and my intentions to YOU, that is all I am at present concerned + for. + </p> + <p> + Be convinced, then, that I (according to our principles) am right, thou + wrong; or, at least, be silent. But I command thee to be convinced. And in + thy next be sure to tell me that thou art. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. EDGEWARE, THURSDAY, MAY 4. + </p> + <p> + I know that thou art so abandoned a man, that to give thee the best + reasons in the world against what thou hast once resolved upon will be but + acting the madman whom once we saw trying to buffet down a hurricane with + his hat. I hope, however, that the lady's merit will still avail her with + thee. But, if thou persistest; if thou wilt avenge thyself on this sweet + lamb which thou hast singled out from a flock thou hatest, for the faults + of the dogs who kept it: if thou art not to be moved by beauty, by + learning, by prudence, by innocence, all shining out in one charming + object; but she must fall, fall by the man whom she has chosen for her + protector; I would not for a thousand worlds have thy crime to answer for. + </p> + <p> + Upon my faith, Lovelace, the subject sticks with me, notwithstanding I + find I have not the honour of the lady's good opinion. And the more, when + I reflect upon her father's brutal curse, and the villainous hard- + heartedness of all her family. But, nevertheless, I should be desirous to + know (if thou wilt proceed) by what gradations, arts, and contrivances + thou effectest thy ingrateful purpose. And, O Lovelace, I conjure thee, if + thou art a man, let not the specious devils thou has brought her among be + suffered to triumph over her; yield to fair seductions, if I may so + express myself! if thou canst raise a weakness in her by love, or by arts + not inhuman; I shall the less pity her: and shall then conclude, that + there is not a woman in the world who can resist a bold and resolute + lover. + </p> + <p> + A messenger is just now arrived from my uncle. The mortification, it + seems, is got to his knee; and the surgeons declare that he cannot live + many days. He therefore sends for me directly, with these shocking words, + that I will come and close his eyes. My servant or his must of necessity + be in town every day on his case, or other affairs; and one of them shall + regularly attend you for any letter or commands. It will be charity to + write to me as often as you can. For although I am likely to be a + considerable gainer by the poor man's death, yet I cannot say that I at + all love these scenes of death and the doctor so near me. The doctor and + death I should have said; for that is the natural order, and generally + speaking, the one is but the harbinger to the other. + </p> + <p> + If, therefore, you decline to oblige me, I shall think you are displeased + with my freedom. But let me tell you, at the same, that no man has a right + to be displeased at freedoms taken with him for faults he is not ashamed + to be guilty of. + </p> + <p> + J. BELFORD. <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE + </h3> + <p> + I thank you and Mr. Hickman for his letter, sent me with such kind + expedition; and proceed to obey my dear menacing tyranness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[She then gives the particulars of what passed between herself and Mr. + Lovelace on Tuesday morning, in relation to his four friends, and to + Miss Partington, pretty much to the same effect as in Mr. Lovelace's + Letter, No. XIII. And then proceeds:] +</pre> + <p> + He is constantly accusing me of over-scrupulousness. He says, 'I am always + out of humour with him: that I could not have behaved more reservedly to + Mr. Solmes: and that it is contrary to all his hopes and notions, that he + should not, in so long a time, find himself able to inspire the person, + whom he hoped so soon to have the honour to call his, with the least + distinguishing tenderness for him before-hand.' + </p> + <p> + Silly and partial encroacher! not to know to what to attribute the reserve + I am forced to treat him with! But his pride has eaten up his prudence. It + is indeed a dirty low pride, that has swallowed up the true pride which + should have set him above the vanity that has overrun him. + </p> + <p> + Yet he pretends that he has no pride but in obliging me: and is always + talking of his reverence and humility, and such sort of stuff: but of this + I am sure that he has, as I observed the first time I saw him,* too much + regard to his own person, greatly to value that of his wife, marry he whom + he will: and I must be blind, if I did not see that he is exceedingly vain + of his external advantages, and of that address, which, if it has any + merit in it to an outward eye, is perhaps owing more to his confidence + that [sic] to any thing else. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. I. Letter III. + </p> + <p> + Have you not beheld the man, when I was your happy guest, as he walked to + his chariot, looking about him, as if to observe what eyes his specious + person and air had attracted? + </p> + <p> + But indeed we had some homely coxcombs as proud as if they had persons to + be proud of; at the same time that it was apparent, that the pains they + took about themselves but the more exposed their defects. + </p> + <p> + The man who is fond of being thought more or better than he is, as I have + often observed, but provokes a scrutiny into his pretensions; and that + generally produces contempt. For pride, as I believe I have heretofore + said, is an infallible sign of weakness; of something wrong in the head or + in both. He that exalts himself insults his neighbour; who is provoked to + question in him even that merit, which, were he modest, would perhaps be + allowed to be his due. + </p> + <p> + You will say that I am very grave: and so I am. Mr. Lovelace is extremely + sunk in my opinion since Monday night: nor see I before me any thing that + can afford me a pleasing hope. For what, with a mind so unequal as his, + can be my best hope? + </p> + <p> + I think I mentioned to you, in my former, that my clothes were brought me. + You fluttered me so, that I am not sure I did. But I know I designed to + mention that they were. They were brought me on Thursday; but neither my + few guineas with them, nor any of my books, except a Drexelius on + Eternity, the good old Practice of Piety, and a Francis Spira. My + brother's wit, I suppose. He thinks he does well to point out death and + despair to me. I wish for the one, and every now-and-then am on the brink + of the other. + </p> + <p> + You will the less wonder at my being so very solemn, when, added to the + above, and to my uncertain situation, I tell you, that they have sent me + with these books a letter form my cousin Morden. It has set my heart + against Mr. Lovelace. Against myself too. I send it enclosed. If you + please, my dear, you may read it here: + </p> + <p> + COL. MORDEN, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE + </p> + <p> + Florence, April 13. + </p> + <p> + I am extremely concerned to hear of a difference betwixt the rest of a + family so near and dear to me, and you still dearer to than any of the + rest. + </p> + <p> + My cousin James has acquainted me with the offers you have had, and with + your refusals. I wonder not at either. Such charming promises at so early + an age as when I left England; and those promises, as I have often heard, + so greatly exceeded, as well in your person as mind; how much must you be + admired! how few must there be worthy of you! + </p> + <p> + Your parents, the most indulgent in the world, to a child the most + deserving, have given way it seems to your refusal of several gentlemen. + They have contented themselves at last to name one with earnestness to + you, because of the address of another whom they cannot approve. + </p> + <p> + They had not reason, it seems, from your behaviour, to think you greatly + averse: so they proceeded: perhaps too hastily for a delicacy like your's. + But when all was fixed on their parts, and most extraordinary terms + concluded in your favour; terms, which abundantly show the gentleman's + just value for you; you flew off with a warmth and vehemence little suited + to that sweetness which gave grace to all your actions. + </p> + <p> + I know very little of either of the gentlemen: but of Mr. Lovelace I know + more than of Mr. Solmes. I wish I could say more to his advantage than I + can. As to every qualification but one, your brother owns there is no + comparison. But that one outweighs all the rest together. It cannot be + thought that Miss Clarissa Harlowe will dispense with MORALS in a husband. + </p> + <p> + What, my dearest cousin, shall I plead first to you on this occasion? Your + duty, your interest, your temporal and your eternal welfare, do, and may + all, depend upon this single point, the morality of a husband. A woman who + hath a wicked husband may find it difficult to be good, and out of her + power to do good; and is therefore in a worse situation than the man can + be in, who hath a bad wife. You preserve all your religious regards, I + understand. I wonder not that you do. I should have wondered had you not. + But what can you promise youself, as to perseverance in them, with an + immoral husband? + </p> + <p> + If your parents and you differ in sentiment on this important occasion, + let me ask you, my dear cousin, who ought to give way? I own to you, that + I should have thought there could not any where have been a more suitable + match for you than Mr. Lovelace, had he been a moral man. I should have + very little to say against a man, of whose actions I am not to set up + myself as a judge, did he not address my cousin. But, on this occasion, + let me tell you, my dear Clarissa, that Mr. Lovelace cannot possibly + deserve you. He may reform, you'll say: but he may not. Habit is not soon + or easily shaken off. Libertines, who are libertines in defiance of + talents, of superior lights, of conviction, hardly ever reform but by + miracle, or by incapacity. Well do I know mine own sex. Well am I able to + judge of the probability of the reformation of a licentious young man, who + has not been fastened upon by sickness, by affliction, by calamity: who + has a prosperous run of fortune before him: his spirits high: his will + uncontroulable: the company he keeps, perhaps such as himself, confirming + him in all his courses, assisting him in all his enterprises. + </p> + <p> + As to the other gentleman, suppose, my dear cousin, you do not like him at + present, it is far from being unlikely that you will hereafter: perhaps + the more for not liking him now. He can hardly sink lower in your opinion: + he may rise. Very seldom is it that high expectations are so much as + tolerably answered. How indeed can they, when a fine and extensive + imagination carries its expectation infinitely beyond reality, in the + highest of our sublunary enjoyments? A woman adorned with such an + imagination sees no defect in a favoured object, (the less, if she be not + conscious of any wilful fault in herself,) till it is too late to rectify + the mistakes occasioned by her generous credulity. + </p> + <p> + But suppose a person of your talents were to marry a man of inferior + talents; Who, in this case, can be so happy in herself as Miss Clarissa + Harlowe? What delight do you take in doing good! How happily do you devote + the several portions of the day to your own improvement, and to the + advantage of all that move within your sphere!—And then, such is + your taste, such are your acquirements in the politer studies, and in the + politer amusements; such your excellence in all the different parts of + economy fit for a young lady's inspection and practice, that your friends + would wish you to be taken off as little as possible by regards that may + be called merely personal. + </p> + <p> + But as to what may be the consequence respecting yourself, respecting a + young lady of your talents, from the preference you are suspected to give + to a libertine, I would have you, my dear cousin, consider what that may + be. A mind so pure, to mingle with a mind impure! And will not such a man + as this engross all your solitudes? Will he not perpetually fill you with + anxieties for him and for yourself?—The divine and civil powers + defied, and their sanctions broken through by him, on every not merely + accidental but meditated occasion. To be agreeable to him, and to hope to + preserve an interest in his affections, you must probably be obliged to + abandon all your own laudable pursuits. You must enter into his pleasures + and distastes. You must give up your virtuous companions for his + profligate ones—perhaps be forsaken by your's, because of the + scandal he daily gives. Can you hope, cousin, with such a man as this to + be long so good as you now are? If not, consider which of your present + laudable delights you would choose to give up! which of his culpable ones + to follow him in! How could you brook to go backward, instead of forward, + in those duties which you now so exemplarily perform? and how do you know, + if you once give way, where you shall be suffered, where you shall be + able, to stop? + </p> + <p> + Your brother acknowledges that Mr. Solmes is not near so agreeable in + person as Mr. Lovelace. But what is person with such a lady as I have the + honour to be now writing to? He owns likewise that he has not the address + of Mr. Lovelace: but what a mere personal advantage is a plausible + address, without morals? A woman had better take a husband whose manners + she were to fashion, than to find them ready-fashioned to her hand, at the + price of her morality; a price that is often paid for travelling + accomplishments. O my dear cousin, were you but with us here at Florence, + or at Rome, or at Paris, (where also I resided for many months,) to see + the gentlemen whose supposed rough English manners at setting out are to + be polished, and what their improvement are in their return through the + same places, you would infinitely prefer the man in his first stage to the + same man in his last. You find the difference on their return—a + fondness for foreign fashions, an attachment to foreign vices, a + supercilious contempt of his own country and countrymen; (himself more + despicable than the most despicable of those he despises;) these, with an + unblushing effrontery, are too generally the attainments that concur to + finish the travelled gentleman! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace, I know, deserves to have an exception made in his favour; + for he really is a man of parts and learning: he was esteemed so both here + and at Rome; and a fine person, and a generous turn of mind, gave him + great advantages. But you need not be told that a libertine man of sense + does infinitely more mischief than a libertine of weak parts is able to + do. And this I will tell you further, that it was Mr. Lovelace's own fault + that he was not still more respected than he was among the literati here. + There were, in short, some liberties in which he indulged himself, that + endangered his person and his liberty; and made the best and most worthy + of those who honoured him with their notice give him up, and his stay both + at Florence and at Rome shorter than he designed. + </p> + <p> + This is all I choose to say of Mr. Lovelace. I had much rather have had + reason to give him a quite contrary character. But as to rakes or + libertines in general, I, who know them well, must be allowed, because of + the mischiefs they have always in their hearts, and too often in their + power, to do your sex, to add still a few more words upon this topic. + </p> + <p> + A libertine, my dear cousin, a plotting, an intriguing libertine, must be + generally remorseless—unjust he must always be. The noble rule of + doing to others what he would have done to himself is the first rule he + breaks; and every day he breaks it; the oftener, the greater his triumph. + He has great contempt for your sex. He believes no woman chaste, because + he is a profligate. Every woman who favours him confirms him in his wicked + incredulity. He is always plotting to extend the mischiefs he delights in. + If a woman loves such a man, how can she bear the thought of dividing her + interest in his affections with half the town, and that perhaps the dregs + of it? Then so sensual!—How will a young lady of your delicacy bear + with so sensual a man? a man who makes a jest of his vows? and who perhaps + will break your spirit by the most unmanly insults. To be a libertine, is + to continue to be every thing vile and inhuman. Prayers, tears, and the + most abject submission, are but fuel to his pride: wagering perhaps with + lewd companions, and, not improbably, with lewder women, upon instances + which he boasts of to them of your patient sufferings, and broken spirit, + and bringing them home to witness both. + </p> + <p> + I write what I know has been. + </p> + <p> + I mention not fortunes squandered, estates mortgaged or sold, and + posterity robbed—nor yet a multitude of other evils, too gross, too + shocking, to be mentioned to a person of your delicacy. + </p> + <p> + All these, my dear cousin, to be shunned, all the evils I have named to be + avoided; the power of doing all the good you have been accustomed to, + preserved, nay, increased, by the separate provision that will be made for + you: your charming diversions, and exemplary employments, all maintained; + and every good habit perpetuated: and all by one sacrifice, the fading + pleasure of the eye! who would not, (since every thing is not to be met + with in one man, who would not,) to preserve so many essentials, give up + to light, so unpermanent a pleasure! + </p> + <p> + Weigh all these things, which I might insist upon to more advantage, did I + think it needful to one of your prudence—weigh them well, my beloved + cousin; and if it be not the will of your parents that you should continue + single, resolve to oblige them; and let it not be said that the powers of + fancy shall (as in many others of your sex) be too hard for your duty and + your prudence. The less agreeable the man, the more obliging the + compliance. Remember, that he is a sober man—a man who has + reputation to lose, and whose reputation therefore is a security for his + good behaviour to you. + </p> + <p> + You have an opportunity offered you to give the highest instance that can + be given of filial duty. Embrace it. It is worthy of you. It is expected + from you; however, for your inclination-sake, we may be sorry that you are + called upon to give it. Let it be said that you have been able to lay an + obligation upon your parents, (a proud word, my cousin!) which you could + not do, were it not laid against your inclination!—upon parents who + have laid a thousand upon you: who are set upon this point: who will not + give it up: who have given up many points to you, even of this very + nature: and in their turn, for the sake of their own authority, as well as + judgment, expect to be obliged. + </p> + <p> + I hope I shall soon, in person, congratulate you upon this your + meritorious compliance. To settle and give up my trusteeship is one of the + principal motives of my leaving these parts. I shall be glad to settle it + to every one's satisfaction; to yours particularly. + </p> + <p> + If on my arrival I find a happy union, as formerly, reign in a family so + dear to me, it will be an unspeakable pleasure to me; and I shall perhaps + so dispose my affairs, as to be near you for ever. + </p> + <p> + I have written a very long letter, and will add no more, than that I am, + with the greatest respect, my dearest cousin, + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate and faithful servant, WM. MORDEN. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I will suppose, my dear Miss Howe, that you have read my cousin's letter. + It is now in vain to wish it had come sooner. But if it had, I might + perhaps have been so rash as to give Mr. Lovelace the fatal meeting, as I + little thought of going away with him. + </p> + <p> + But I should hardly have given him the expectation of so doing, previous + to the meeting, which made him come prepared; and the revocation of which + he so artfully made ineffectual. + </p> + <p> + Persecuted as I was, and little expecting so much condescension, as my + aunt, to my great mortification, has told me (and you confirm) I should + have met with, it is, however, hard to say what I should or should not + have done as to meeting him, had it come in time: but this effect I verily + believe it would have had—to have made me insist with all my might + on going over, out of all their ways, to the kind writer of the + instructive letter, and on making a father (a protector, as well as a + friend) of a kinsman, who is one of my trustees. This, circumstanced as I + was, would have been a natural, at least an unexceptionable protection! + —But I was to be unhappy! and how it cuts me to the heart to think, + that I can already subscribe to my cousin's character of a libertine, so + well drawn in the letter which I suppose you now to have read! + </p> + <p> + That a man of a character which ever was my abhorrence should fall to my + lot!—But, depending on my own strength; having no reason to + apprehend danger from headstrong and disgraceful impulses; I too little + perhaps cast up my eyes to the Supreme Director: in whom, mistrusting + myself, I ought to have placed my whole confidence—and the more, + when I saw myself so perserveringly addressed by a man of this character. + </p> + <p> + Inexperience and presumption, with the help of a brother and sister who + have low ends to answer in my disgrace, have been my ruin!—A hard + word, my dear! but I repeat it upon deliberation: since, let the best + happen which now can happen, my reputation is destroyed; a rake is my + portion: and what that portion is my cousin Morden's letter has acquainted + you. + </p> + <p> + Pray keep it by you till called for. I saw it not myself (having not the + heart to inspect my trunks) till this morning. I would not for the world + this man should see it; because it might occasion mischief between the + most violent spirit, and the most settled brave one in the world, as my + cousin's is said to be. + </p> + <p> + This letter was enclosed (opened) in a blank cover. Scorn and detest me as + they will, I wonder that one line was not sent with it—were it but + to have more particularly pointed the design of it, in the same generous + spirit that sent me the spira. + </p> + <p> + The sealing of the cover was with black wax. I hope there is no new + occasion in the family to give reason for black wax. But if there were, it + would, to be sure, have been mentioned, and laid at my door—perhaps + too justly! + </p> + <p> + I had begun a letter to my cousin; but laid it by, because of the + uncertainty of my situation, and expecting every day for several days past + to be at a greater certainty. You bid me write to him some time ago, you + know. Then it was I began it: for I have great pleasure in obeying you in + all I may. So I ought to have; for you are the only friend left me. And, + moreover, you generally honour me with your own observance of the advice I + take the liberty to offer you: for I pretend to say, I give better advice + than I have taken. And so I had need. For, I know not how it comes about, + but I am, in my own opinion, a poor lost creature: and yet cannot charge + myself with one criminal or faulty inclination. Do you know, my dear, how + this can be? + </p> + <p> + Yet I can tell you how, I believe—one devious step at setting out!— + that must be it:—which pursued, has led me so far out of my path, + that I am in a wilderness of doubt and error; and never, never, shall find + my way out of it: for, although but one pace awry at first, it has led me + hundreds and hundreds of miles out of my path: and the poor estray has not + one kind friend, nor has met with one direct passenger, to help her to + recover it. + </p> + <p> + But I, presumptuous creature! must rely so much upon my own knowledge of + the right path!—little apprehending that an ignus fatuus with its + false fires (and ye I had heard enough of such) would arise to mislead me! + And now, in the midst of fens and quagmires, it plays around me, and + around me, throwing me back again, whenever I think myself in the right + track. But there is one common point, in which all shall meet, err widely + as they may. In that I shall be laid quietly down at last: and then will + all my calamities be at an end. + </p> + <p> + But how I stray again; stray from my intention! I would only have said, + that I had begun a letter to my cousin Morden some time ago: but that now + I can never end it. You will believe I cannot: for how shall I tell him + that all his compliments are misbestowed? that all his advice is thrown + away? all his warnings vain? and that even my highest expectation is to be + the wife of that free-liver, whom he so pathetically warns me to shun? + </p> + <p> + Let me own, however, have your prayers joined with my own, (my fate + depending, as it seems, upon the lips of such a man) 'that, whatever shall + be my destiny, that dreadful part of my father's malediction, that I may + be punished by the man in whom he supposes I put my confidence, may not + take place! that this for Mr. Lovelace's own sake, and for the sake of + human nature, may not be! or, if it be necessary, in support of the + parental authority, that I should be punished by him, that it may not be + by his premeditated or wilful baseness; but that I may be able to acquit + his intention, if not his action!' Otherwise, my fault will appear to be + doubled in the eye of the event-judging world. And yet, methinks, I would + be glad that the unkindness of my father and uncles, whose hearts have + already been too much wounded by my error, may be justified in every + article, excepting in this heavy curse: and that my father will be pleased + to withdraw that before it be generally known: at least the most dreadful + part of it which regards futurity! + </p> + <p> + I must lay down my pen. I must brood over these reflections. Once more, + before I close my cousin's letter, I will peruse it. And then I shall have + it by heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XX + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY NIGHT, MAY 7. + </p> + <p> + When you reflect upon my unhappy situation, which is attended with so many + indelicate and even shocking circumstances, some of which my pride will + not let me think of with patience; all aggravated by the contents of my + cousin's affecting letter; you will not wonder that the vapourishness + which has laid hold of my heart should rise to my pen. And yet it would be + more kind, more friendly in me, to conceal from you, who take such a + generous interest in my concerns, that worst part of my griefs, which + communication and complaint cannot relieve. + </p> + <p> + But to whom can I unbosom myself but to you: when the man who ought to be + my protector, as he has brought upon me all my distresses, adds to my + apprehensions; when I have not even a servant on whose fidelity I can + rely, or to whom I can break my griefs as they arise; and when his + bountiful temper and gay heart attach every one to him; and I am but a + cipher, to give him significance, and myself pain!—These griefs, + therefore, do what I can, will sometimes burst into tears; and these + mingling with my ink, will blot my paper. And I know you will not grudge + me the temporary relief. + </p> + <p> + But I shall go on in the strain I left off with in my last, when I + intended rather to apologize for my melancholy. But let what I have above + written, once for all, be my apology. My misfortunes have given you a call + to discharge the noblest offices of the friendship we have vowed to each + other, in advice and consolation; and it would be an injury to it, and to + you, to suppose it needed even that call. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[She then tells Miss Howe, that now her clothes are come, Mr. Lovelace is + continually teasing her to go abroad with him in a coach, attended by + whom she pleases of her own sex, either for the air, or to the public + diversions. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She gives the particulars of a conversation that has passed between them + on that subject, and his several proposals. But takes notice, that he + says not the least word of the solemnity which he so much pressed for + before they came to town; and which, as she observes, was necessary to + give propriety to his proposals.] +</pre> + <p> + Now, my dear, she says, I cannot bear the life I live. I would be glad at + my heart to be out of his reach. If I were, he should soon find the + difference. If I must be humbled, it had better be by those to whom I owe + duty, than by him. My aunt writes in her letter,* that SHE dare not + propose any thing in my favour. You tell me, that upon inquiry, you find,* + that, had I not been unhappily seduced away, a change of measures was + actually resolved upon; and that my mother, particularly, was determined + to exert herself for the restoration of the family peace; and, in order to + succeed the better, had thoughts of trying to engage my uncle Harlowe in + her party. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter LII. ** Ibid. Letter VIII. + </p> + <p> + Let me build on these foundations. I can but try, my dear. It is my duty + to try all probable methods to restore the poor outcast to favour. And who + knows but that once indulgent uncle, who has very great weight in the + family, may be induced to interpose in my behalf? I will give up all right + and title to my grandfather's devises and bequests, with all my heart and + soul, to whom they please, in order to make my proposal palatable to my + brother. And that my surrender may be effectual, I will engage never to + marry. + </p> + <p> + What think you, my dear, of this expedient? Surely, they cannot resolve to + renounce me for ever. If they look with impartial eyes upon what has + happened, they will have something to blame themselves for, as well as me. + </p> + <p> + I presume, that you will be of opinion that this expedient is worth + trying. But here is my difficulty: If I should write, my hard-hearted + brother has so strongly confederated them all against me, that my letter + would be handed about from one to another, till he had hardened every one + to refuse my request; whereas could my uncle be engaged to espouse my + cause, as from himself, I should have some hope, as I presume to think he + would soon have my mother and my aunt of his party. + </p> + <p> + What, therefore, I am thinking of, is this—'Suppose Mr. Hickman, + whose good character has gained him every body's respect, should put + himself in my uncle Harlowe's way? And (as if from your knowledge of the + state of things between Mr. Lovelace and me) assure him not only of the + above particulars, but that I am under no obligations that shall hinder me + from taking his directions?' + </p> + <p> + I submit the whole to your consideration, whether to pursue it at all, or + in what manner. But if it be pursued, and if my uncle refuses to interest + himself in my favour upon Mr. Hickman's application as from you, (for so, + for obvious reasons, it must be put,) I can then have no hope; and my next + step, in the mind I am in, shall be to throw myself into the protection of + the ladies of his family. + </p> + <p> + It were an impiety to adopt the following lines, because it would be + throwing upon the decrees of Providence a fault too much my own. But often + do I revolve them, for the sake of the general similitude which they bear + to my unhappy, yet undersigned error. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To you, great gods! I make my last appeal: + Or clear my virtue, or my crimes reveal. + If wand'ring in the maze of life I run, + And backward tread the steps I sought to shun, + Impute my error to your own decree: + My FEET are guilty: but my HEART is free. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[The Lady dates again on Monday, to let Miss Howe know, that Mr. + Lovelace, on observing her uneasiness, had introduced to her Mr. + Mennell, Mrs. Fretchville's kinsman, who managed all her affairs. She + calls him a young officer of sense and politeness, who gave her an + account of the house and furniture, to the same effect that Mr. + Lovelace had done before;* as also of the melancholy way Mrs. + Fretchville is in. +</pre> + <p> + * See Letter IV. of this volume. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She tells Miss Howe how extremely urgent Mr. Lovelace was with the + gentleman, to get his spouse (as he now always calls her before + company) a sight of the house: and that Mr. Mennell undertook that + very afternoon to show her all of it, except the apartment Mrs. + Fretchville should be in when she went. But that she chose not to + take another step till she knew how she approved of her scheme to have + her uncle sounded, and with what success, if tried, it would be + attended. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Mr. Lovelace, in his humourous way, gives his friend an account of the + Lady's peevishness and dejection, on receiving a letter with her + clothes. He regrets that he has lost her confidence; which he + attributes to his bringing her into the company of his four + companions. Yet he thinks he must excuse them, and censure her for + over-niceness; for that he never saw men behave better, at least not + them. +</pre> + <p> + Mentioning his introducing Mr. Mennell to her,] + </p> + <p> + Now, Jack, says he, was it not very kind of Mr. Mennell [Captain Mennell I + sometimes called him; for among the military there is no such officer, + thou knowest, as a lieutenant, or an ensign—was it not very kind in + him] to come along with me so readily as he did, to satisfy my beloved + about the vapourish lady and the house? + </p> + <p> + But who is Capt. Mennell? methinks thou askest: I never heard of such a + man as Captain Mennell. + </p> + <p> + Very likely. But knowest thou not young Newcomb, honest Doleman's newphew? + </p> + <p> + O-ho! Is it he? + </p> + <p> + It is. And I have changed his name by virtue of my own single authority. + Knowest thou not, that I am a great name-father? Preferment I bestow, both + military and civil. I give estates, and take them away at my pleasure. + Quality too I create. And by a still more valuable prerogative, I degrade + by virtue of my own imperial will, without any other act of forfeiture + than my own convenience. What a poor thing is a monarch to me! + </p> + <p> + But Mennell, now he has seen this angel of a woman, has qualms; that's the + devil!—I shall have enough to do to keep him right. But it is the + less wonder, that he should stagger, when a few hours' conversation with + the same lady could make four much more hardened varlets find hearts— + only, that I am confident, that I shall at least reward her virtue, if her + virtue overcome me, or I should find it impossible to persevere—for + at times I have confounded qualms myself. But say not a word of them to + the confraternity: nor laugh at me for them thyself. + </p> + <p> + In another letter, dated Monday night, he writes as follows: + </p> + <p> + This perverse lady keeps me at such a distance, that I am sure something + is going on between her and Miss Howe, notwithstanding the prohibition + from Mrs. Howe to both: and as I have thought it some degree of merit in + myself to punish others for their transgressions, I am of opinion that + both these girls are punishable for their breach of parental injunctions. + And as to their letter-carrier, I have been inquiring into his way of + living; and finding him to be a common poacher, a deer-stealer, and + warren-robber, who, under pretence of haggling, deals with a set of + customers who constantly take all he brings, whether fish, fowl, or + venison, I hold myself justified (since Wilson's conveyance must at + present be sacred) to have him stripped and robbed, and what money he has + about him given to the poor; since, if I take not money as well as + letters, I shall be suspected. + </p> + <p> + To serve one's self, and punish a villain at the same time, is serving + public and private. The law was not made for such a man as me. And I must + come at correspondences so disobediently carried on. + </p> + <p> + But, on second thoughts, if I could find out that the dear creature + carried any of her letters in her pockets, I can get her to a play or to a + concert, and she may have the misfortune to lose her pockets. + </p> + <p> + But how shall I find this out; since her Dorcas knows no more of her + dressing and undressing than her Lovelace? For she is dressed for the day + before she appears even to her servant. Vilely suspicious! Upon my soul, + Jack, a suspicious temper is a punishable temper. If a woman suspects a + rogue in an honest man, is it not enough to make the honest man who knows + it a rogue? + </p> + <p> + But, as to her pockets, I think my mind hankers after them, as the less + mischievous attempt. But they cannot hold all the letters I should wish to + see. And yet a woman's pockets are half as deep as she is high. Tied round + the sweet levities, I presume, as ballast-bags, lest the wind, as they + move with full sail, from whale-ribbed canvass, should blow away the + gypsies. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He then, in apprehension that something is meditating between the two + ladies, or that something may be set on foot to get Miss Harlowe out + of his hands, relates several of his contrivances, and boasts of his + instructions given in writing to Dorcas, and to his servant Will. + Summers; and says, that he has provided against every possible + accident, even to bring her back if she should escape, or in case she + should go abroad, and then refuse to return; and hopes so to manage, + as that, should he make an attempt, whether he succeeded in it or not, + he may have a pretence to detain her.] +</pre> + <p> + He then proceeds as follows: + </p> + <p> + I have ordered Dorcas to cultivate by all means her lady's favour; to + lament her incapacity as to writing and reading; to shew letters to her + lady, as from pretended country relations; to beg her advice how to answer + them, and to get them answered; and to be always aiming at scrawling with + a pen, lest inky fingers should give suspicion. I have moreover given the + wench an ivory-leafed pocket-book, with a silver pencil, that she may make + memoranda on occasion. + </p> + <p> + And, let me tell thee, that the lady has already (at Mrs. Sinclair's + motion) removed her clothes out of the trunks they came in, into an ample + mahogany repository, where they will lie at full length, and which has + drawers in it for linen. A repository, that used to hold the richest suits + which some of the nymphs put on, when they are to be dressed out, to + captivate, or to ape quality. For many a countess, thou knowest, has our + mother equipped; nay, two or three duchesses, who live upon quality- terms + with their lords. But this to such as will come up to her price, and can + make an appearance like quality themselves on the occasion: for the + reputation of persons of birth must not lie at the mercy of every + under-degreed sinner. + </p> + <p> + A master-key, which will open every lock in this chest, is put into + Dorcas's hands; and she is to take care, when she searches for papers, + before she removes any thing, to observe how it lies, that she may replace + all to a hair. Sally and Polly can occasionally help to transcribe. Slow + and sure with such an Argus-eyed charmer must be all my movements. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible that one so young and so inexperienced as she is can have + all her caution from herself; the behaviour of the women so + unexceptionable; no revellings, no company ever admitted into this inner- + house; all genteel, quiet, and easy in it; the nymphs well-bred, and + well-read; her first disgusts to the old one got over.—It must be + Miss Howe, therefore, [who once was in danger of being taken in by one of + our class, by honest Sir George Colmar, as thou hast heard,] that makes my + progress difficult. + </p> + <p> + Thou seest, Belford, by the above precautionaries, that I forget nothing. + As the song says, it is not to be imagined + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On what slight strings + Depend these things + On which men build their glory! +</pre> + <p> + So far, so good. I shall never rest till I have discovered in the first + place, where the dear creature puts her letters; and in the next till I + have got her to a play, to a concert, or to take an airing with me out of + town for a day or two. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I gave thee just now some of my contrivances. Dorcas, who is ever + attentive to all her lady's motions, has given me some instances of her + mistress's precautions. She wafers her letters, it seems, in two places; + pricks the wafers; and then seals upon them. No doubt but the same care is + taken with regard to those brought to her, for she always examines the + seals of the latter before she opens them. + </p> + <p> + I must, I must come at them. This difficulty augments my curiosity. + Strange, so much as she writes, and at all hours, that not one sleepy or + forgetful moment has offered in our favour! + </p> + <p> + A fair contention, thou seest: nor plead thou in her favour her youth, her + beauty, her family, her fortune, CREDULITY, she has none; and with regard + to her TENDER YEARS, Am I not a young fellow myself? As to BEAUTY; + pr'ythee, Jack, do thou, to spare my modesty, make a comparison between my + Clarissa for a woman, and thy Lovelace for a man. For her FAMILY; that was + not known to its country a century ago: and I hate them all but her. Have + I not cause?—For her FORTUNE; fortune, thou knowest, was ever a + stimulus with me; and this for reasons not ignoble. Do not girls of + fortune adorn themselves on purpose to engage our attention? Seek they not + to draw us into their snares? Depend they not, generally, upon their + fortunes, in the views they have upon us, more than on their merits? Shall + we deprive them of the benefit of their principal dependence?—Can I, + in particular, marry every girl who wishes to obtain my notice? If, + therefore, in support of the libertine principles for which none of the + sweet rogues hate us, a woman of fortune is brought to yield homage to her + emperor, and any consequences attend the subjugation, is not such a one + shielded by her fortune, as well from insult and contempt, as from + indigence—all, then, that admits of debate between my beloved and me + is only this—which of the two has more wit, more circumspection—and + that remains to be tried. + </p> + <p> + A sad life, however, this life of doubt and suspense, for the poor lady to + live, as well as for me; that is to say, if she be not naturally jealous—if + she be, her uneasiness is constitutional, and she cannot help it; nor will + it, in that case, hurt her. For a suspicious temper will make occasion for + doubt, if none were to offer to its hand. My fair one therefore, if + naturally suspicious, is obliged to me for saving her the trouble of + studying for these occasions—but, after all, the plainest paths in + our journeys through life are the safest and best I believe, although it + is not given me to choose them; I am not, however, singular in the pursuit + of the more intricate paths; since there are thousands, and ten thousands, + who had rather fish in troubled waters than in smooth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 9. + </p> + <p> + I am a very unhappy man. This lady is said to be one of the sweetest- + tempered creatures in the world: and so I thought her. But to me she is + one of the most perverse. I never was supposed to be an ill-natured mortal + neither. How can it be? I imagined, for a long while, that we were born to + make each other happy: but quite the contrary; we really seem to be sent + to plague each other. + </p> + <p> + I will write a comedy, I think: I have a title already; and that's half + the work. The Quarrelsome Lovers. 'Twill do. There's something new and + striking in it. Yet, more or less, all lovers quarrel. Old Terence has + taken notice of that; and observes upon it, That lovers falling out + occasions lovers falling in; and a better understanding of course. 'Tis + natural that it should be so. But with us, we fall out so often, without + falling in once; and a second quarrel so generally happens before a first + is made up; that it is hard to guess what event our loves will be attended + with. But perseverance is my glory, and patience my handmaid, when I have + in view an object worthy of my attempts. What is there in an easy + conquest? Hudibras questions well, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ———What mad lover ever dy'd + To gain a soft and easy bride? + Or, for a lady tender-hearted, + In purling streams, or hemp, departed? +</pre> + <p> + But I will lead to the occasion of this preamble. + </p> + <p> + I had been out. On my return, meeting Dorcas on the stairs—Your lady + in her chamber, Dorcas? In the dining-room, sir: and if ever you hope for + an opportunity to come at a letter, it must be now. For at her feet I saw + one lie, which, as may be seen by its open fold, she had been reading, + with a little parcel of others she is now busied with—all pulled out + of her pocket, as I believe: so, Sir, you'll know where to find them + another time. + </p> + <p> + I was ready to leap for joy, and instantly resolved to bring forward an + expedient which I had held in petto; and entering the dining-room with an + air of transport, I boldly clasped my arms about her, as she sat; she + huddling up her papers in her handkerchief all the time; the dropped paper + unseen. O my dearest life, a lucky expedient have Mr. Mennell and I hit + upon just now. In order to hasten Mrs. Fretchville to quit the house, I + have agreed, if you approve of it, to entertain her cook, her housemaid, + and two men-servants, (about whom she was very solicitous,) till you are + provided to your mind. And, that no accommodations may be wanted, I have + consented to take the household linen at an appraisement. + </p> + <p> + I am to pay down five hundred pounds, and the remainder as soon as the + bills can be looked up, and the amount of them adjusted. Thus will you + have a charming house entirely ready to receive you. Some of the ladies of + my family will soon be with you: they will not permit you long to suspend + my happy day. And that nothing may be wanting to gratify your utmost + punctilio, I will till then consent to stay here at Mrs. Sinclair's while + you reside at your new house; and leave the rest to your own generosity. O + my beloved creature, will not this be agreeable to you? I am sure it will—it + must—and clasping her closer to me, I gave her a more fervent kiss + than ever I had dared to give her before. I permitted not my ardour to + overcome my discretion, however; for I took care to set my foot upon the + letter, and scraped it farther from her, as it were behind her chair. + </p> + <p> + She was in a passion at the liberty I took. Bowing low, I begged her + pardon; and stooping still lower, in the same motion took up the letter, + and whipt it into my bosom. + </p> + <p> + Pox on me for a puppy, a fool, a blockhead, a clumsy varlet, a mere Jack + Belford!—I thought myself a much cleverer fellow than I am!—Why + could I not have been followed in by Dorcas, who might have taken it up, + while I addressed her lady? + </p> + <p> + For here, the letter being unfolded, I could not put it in my bosom + without alarming her ears, as my sudden motion did her eyes—Up she + flew in a moment: Traitor! Judas! her eyes flashing lightning, and a + perturbation in her eager countenance, so charming!—What have you + taken up?—and then, what for both my ears I durst not have done to + her, she made no scruple to seize the stolen letter, though in my bosom. + </p> + <p> + What was to be done on so palpable a detection?—I clasped her hand, + which had hold of the ravished paper, between mine: O my beloved creature! + said I, can you think I have not some curiosity? Is it possible you can be + thus for ever employed; and I, loving narrative letter-writing above every + other species of writing, and admiring your talent that way, should not + (thus upon the dawn of my happiness, as I presume to hope) burn with a + desire to be admitted into so sweet a correspondence? + </p> + <p> + Let go my hand!—stamping with her pretty foot; How dare you, Sir!—At + this rate, I see—too plainly I see—And more she could not say: + but, gasping, was ready to faint with passion and affright; the devil a + bit of her accustomed gentleness to be seen in her charming face, or to be + heard in her musical voice. + </p> + <p> + Having gone thus far, loth, very loth, was I to lose my prize—once + more I got hold of the rumpled-up letter!—Impudent man! were her + words: stamping again. For God's sake, then it was. I let go my prize, + lest she should faint away: but had the pleasure first to find my hand + within both hers, she trying to open my reluctant fingers. How near was my + heart at that moment to my hand, throbbing to my fingers' ends, to be thus + familiarly, although angrily, treated by the charmer of my soul! + </p> + <p> + When she had got it in her possession, she flew to the door. I threw + myself in her way, shut it, and, in the humblest manner, besought her to + forgive me. And yet do you think the Harlowe-hearted charmer + (notwithstanding the agreeable annunciation I came in with) would forgive + me?—No, truly; but pushing me rudely from the door, as if I had been + nothing, [yet do I love to try, so innocently to try, her strength too!] + she gained that force through passion, which I had lost through fear, out + she shot to her own apartment; [thank my stars she could fly no farther!] + and as soon as she entered it, in a passion still, she double-locked and + double-bolted herself in. This my comfort, on reflection, that, upon a + greater offence, it cannot be worse. + </p> + <p> + I retreated to my own apartment, with my heart full: and, my man Will not + being near me, gave myself a plaguy knock on the forehead with my double + fist. + </p> + <p> + And now is my charmer shut up from me: refusing to see me, refusing her + meals. She resolves not to see me; that's more:—never again, if she + can help it; and in the mind she is in—I hope she has said. + </p> + <p> + The dear creatures, whenever they quarrel with their humble servants, + should always remember this saving clause, that they may not be forsworn. + </p> + <p> + But thinkest thou that I will not make it the subject of one of my first + plots to inform myself of the reason why all this commotion was necessary + on so slight an occasion as this would have been, were not the letters + that pass between these ladies of a treasonable nature? + </p> + <p> + WEDNESDAY MORNING. + </p> + <p> + No admission to breakfast, any more than to supper. I wish this lady is + not a simpleton, after all. + </p> + <p> + I have sent up in Captain Mennell's name. + </p> + <p> + A message from Captain Mennell, Madam. + </p> + <p> + It won't do. She is of baby age. She cannot be—a Solomon, I was + going to say, in every thing. Solomon, Jack, was the wisest man. But didst + ever hear who was the wisest woman? I want a comparison for this lady. + Cunning women and witches we read of without number. But I fancy wisdom + never entered into the character of a woman. It is not a requisite of the + sex. Women, indeed, make better sovereigns than men: but why is that?—because + the women-sovereigns are governed by men; the men- sovereigns by women.—Charming, + by my soul! For hence we guess at the rudder by which both are steered. + </p> + <p> + But to putting wisdom out of the question, and to take cunning in; that is + to say, to consider woman as a woman; what shall we do, if this lady has + something extraordinary in her head? Repeated charges has she given to + Wilson, by a particular messenger, to send any letter directed for her the + moment it comes. + </p> + <p> + I must keep a good look-out. She is not now afraid of her brother's plot. + I shan't be at all surprised, if Singleton calls upon Miss Howe, as the + only person who knows, or is likely to know, where Miss Harlowe is; + pretending to have affairs of importance, and of particular service to + her, if he can but be admitted to her speech—Of compromise, who + knows, from her brother? + </p> + <p> + Then will Miss Howe warn her to keep close. Then will my protection be + again necessary. This will do, I believe. Any thing from Miss Howe must. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Leman is a vile fellow with her, and my implement. Joseph, honest + Joseph, as I call him, may hang himself. I have played him off enough, and + have very little further use for him. No need to wear one plot to the + stumps, when I can find new ones every hour. + </p> + <p> + Nor blame me for the use I make of my talents. Who, that hath such, will + let 'em be idle? + </p> + <p> + Well, then, I will find a Singleton; that's all I have to do. + </p> + <p> + Instantly find one!—Will! + </p> + <p> + Sir— + </p> + <p> + This moment call me hither thy cousin Paul Wheatly, just come from sea, + whom thou wert recommending to my service, if I were to marry, and keep a + pleasure-boat. + </p> + <p> + Presto—Will's gone—Paul will be here presently. Presently to + Mrs. Howe's. If Paul be Singleton's mate, coming from his captain, it will + do as well as if it were Singleton himself. + </p> + <p> + Sally, a little devil, often reproaches me with the slowness of my + proceedings. But in a play does not the principal entertainment lie in the + first four acts? Is not all in a manner over when you come to the fifth? + And what a vulture of a man must he be, who souses upon his prey, and in + the same moment trusses and devours? + </p> + <p> + But to own the truth. I have overplotted myself. To my make my work + secure, as I thought, I have frighted the dear creature with the sight of + my four Hottentots, and I shall be a long time, I doubt, before I can + recover my lost ground. And then this cursed family at Harlowe-place have + made her out of humour with me, with herself, and with all the world, but + Miss Howe, who, no doubt, is continually adding difficulties to my other + difficulties. + </p> + <p> + I am very unwilling to have recourse to measures which these demons below + are continually urging me to take; because I am sure, that, at last, I + shall be brought to make her legally mine. + </p> + <p> + One complete trial over, and I think I will do her noble justice. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Well, Paul's gone—gone already—has all his lessons. A notable + fellow! —Lord W.'s necessary-man was Paul before he went to sea. A + more sensible rogue Paul than Joseph! Not such a pretender to piety + neither as the other. At what a price have I bought that Joseph! I believe + I must punish the rascal at last: but must let him marry first: then + (though that may be punishment enough) I shall punish two at once in the + man and his wife. And how richly does Betty deserve punishment for her + behaviour to my goddess! + </p> + <p> + But now I hear the rusty hinges of my beloved's door give me creaking + invitation. My heart creaks and throbs with respondent trepidations: + Whimsical enough though! for what relation has a lover's heart to a rusty + pair of hinges? But they are the hinges that open and shut the door of my + beloved's bed-chamber. Relation enough in that. + </p> + <p> + I hear not the door shut again. I shall receive her commands I hope anon. + What signifies her keeping me thus at a distance? she must be mine, let me + do or offer what I will. Courage whenever I assume, all is over: for, + should she think of escaping from hence, whither can she fly to avoid me? + Her parents will not receive her. Her uncles will not entertain her. Her + beloved Norton is in their direction, and cannot. Miss Howe dare not. She + has not one friend in town but me—is entirely a stranger to the + town. And what then is the matter with me, that I should be thus + unaccountably over-awed and tyrannized over by a dear creature who wants + only to know how impossible it is that she should escape me, in order to + be as humble to me as she is to her persecuting relations! + </p> + <p> + Should I ever make the grand attempt, and fail, and should she hate me for + it, her hatred can be but temporary. She has already incurred the censure + of the world. She must therefore choose to be mine, for the sake of + soldering up her reputation in the eye of that impudent world. For, who + that knows me, and knows that she has been in my power, though but for + twenty-four hours, will think her spotless as to fact, let her inclination + be what it will? And then human nature is such a well-known rogue, that + every man and woman judges by what each knows of him or herself, that + inclination is no more to be trusted, where an opportunity is given, than + I am; especially where a woman, young and blooming, loves a man well + enough to go off with him; for such will be the world's construction in + the present case. + </p> + <p> + She calls her maid Dorcas. No doubt, that I may hear her harmonious voice, + and to give me an opportunity to pour out my soul at her feet; to renew + all my vows; and to receive her pardon for the past offence: and then, + with what pleasure shall I begin upon a new score, and afterwards wipe out + that; and begin another, and another, till the last offence passes; and + there can be no other! And once, after that, to be forgiven, will be to be + forgiven for ever. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The door is again shut. Dorcas tells me, that her lady denies to admit me + to dine with her; a favour I had ordered the wench to beseech her to grant + me, the next time she saw her—not uncivilly, however, denies— + coming-to by degrees! Nothing but the last offence, the honest wench tells + me, in the language of her principals below, will do with her. The last + offence is meditating. Yet this vile recreant heart of mine plays me + booty. + </p> + <p> + But here I conclude; though the tyranness leaves me nothing to do but to + read, write, and fret. + </p> + <p> + Subscription is formal between us. Besides, I am so much her's, that I + cannot say how much I am thine or any other person's. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, MAY 9. + </p> + <p> + If, my dear, you approve of the application to my uncle Harlowe, I wish it + to be made as soon as possible. We are quite out again. I have shut myself + up from him. The offence indeed not so very great—and yet it is too. + He had like to have got a letter. One of your's. But never will I write + again, or re-peruse my papers, in an apartment where he thinks himself + entitled to come. He did not read a line of it. Indeed he did not. So + don't be uneasy. And depend upon future caution. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was. The sun being upon my closet, and Mr. Lovelace abroad— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She then gives Miss Howe an account of his coming by surprise upon her: + of his fluttering speech: of his bold address: of her struggle with + him for the letter, &c. +</pre> + <p> + And now, my dear, proceeds she, I am more and more convinced, that I am + too much in his power to make it prudent to stay with him. And if my + friends will but give me hope, I will resolve to abandon him for ever. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! he is a fierce, a foolish, an insolent creature!—And, in + truth, I hardly expect that we can accommodate. How much unhappier am I + already with him than my mother ever was with my father after marriage! + since (and that without any reason, any pretence in the world for it) he + is for breaking my spirit before I am his, and while I am, or ought to be + [O my folly, that I am not!] in my own power. + </p> + <p> + Till I can know whether my friends will give me hope or not, I must do + what I never studied to do before in any case; that is, try to keep this + difference open: and yet it will make me look little in my own eyes; + because I shall mean by it more than I can own. But this is one of the + consequences of all engagements, where the minds are unpaired—dispaired, + in my case, I must say. + </p> + <p> + Let this evermore be my caution to individuals of my sex—Guard your + eye: 'twill ever be in a combination against your judgment. If there are + two parts to be taken, it will be for ever, traitor as it is, taking the + wrong one. + </p> + <p> + If you ask me, my dear, how this caution befits me? let me tell you a + secret which I have but very lately found out upon self-examination, + although you seem to have made the discovery long ago: That had not my + foolish eye been too much attached, I had not taken the pains to attempt, + so officiously as I did, the prevention of mischief between him and some + of my family, which first induced the correspondence between us, and was + the occasion of bringing the apprehended mischief with double weight upon + himself. My vanity and conceit, as far as I know, might have part in the + inconsiderate measure: For does it not look as if I thought myself more + capable of obviating difficulties than anybody else of my family? + </p> + <p> + But you must not, my dear, suppose my heart to be still a confederate with + my eye. That deluded eye now clearly sees its fault, and the misled heart + despises it for it. Hence the application I am making to my uncle: hence + it is, that I can say (I think truly) that I would atone for my fault at + any rate, even by the sacrifice of a limb or two, if that would do. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest friend!—May your heart never know the hundredth + part of the pain mine at present feels! prays + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WEDNESDAY, MAY 10. + </p> + <p> + I WILL write! No man shall write for me.* No woman shall hinder me from + writing. Surely I am of age to distinguish between reason and caprice. I + am not writing to a man, am I?—If I were carrying on a + correspondence with a fellow, of whom my mother disapproved, and whom it + might be improper for me to encourage, my own honour and my duty would + engage my obedience. But as the case is so widely different, not a word + more on this subject, I beseech you! + </p> + <p> + * Clarissa proposes Mr. Hickman to write for Miss Howe. See Letter XI. of + this volume, Paragr. 5, & ult. + </p> + <p> + I much approve of your resolution to leave this wretch, if you can make it + up with your uncle. + </p> + <p> + I hate the man—most heartily do I hate him, for his teasing ways. + The very reading of your account of them teases me almost as much as they + can you. May you have encouragement to fly the foolish wretch! + </p> + <p> + I have other reasons to wish you may: for I have just made an acquaintance + with one who knows a vast deal of his private history. The man is really a + villain, my dear! an execrable one! if all be true that I have heard! And + yet I am promised other particulars. I do assure you, my dear friend, + that, had he a dozen lives, he might have forfeited them all, and been + dead twenty crimes ago. + </p> + <p> + If ever you condescend to talk familiarly with him again, ask him after + Miss Betterton, and what became of her. And if he shuffle and prevaricate + as to her, question him about Miss Lockyer.—O my dear, the man's a + villain! + </p> + <p> + I will have your uncle sounded, as you desire, and that out of hand. But + yet I am afraid of the success; and this for several reasons. 'Tis hard to + say what the sacrifice of your estate would do with some people: and yet I + must not, when it comes to the test, permit you to make it. + </p> + <p> + As your Hannah continues ill, I would advise you to try to attach Dorcas + to your interest. Have you not been impoliticly shy of her? + </p> + <p> + I wish you could come at some of his letters. Surely a man of his + negligent character cannot be always guarded. If he be, and if you cannot + engage your servant, I shall suspect them both. Let him be called upon at + a short warning when he is writing, or when he has papers lying about, and + so surprise him into negligence. + </p> + <p> + Such inquiries, I know, are of the same nature with those we make at an + inn in traveling, when we look into every corner and closet, for fear of a + villain; yet should be frighted out of our wits, were we to find one. But + 'tis better to detect such a one when awake and up, than to be attacked by + him when in bed and asleep. + </p> + <p> + I am glad you have your clothes. But no money! No books but a Spira, a + Drexelius, and a Practice of Piety! Those who sent the latter ought to + have kept it for themselves—But I must hurry myself from this + subject. + </p> + <p> + You have exceedingly alarmed me by what you hint of his attempt to get one + of my letters. I am assured by my new informant, that he is the head of a + gang of wretched (those he brought you among, no doubt, were some of them) + who join together to betray innocent creatures, and to support one another + afterwards by violence; and were he to come at the knowledge of the + freedoms I take with him, I should be afraid to stir out without a guard. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry to tell you, that I have reason to think, that your brother has + not laid aside his foolish plot. A sunburnt, sailor-looking fellow was + with me just now, pretending great service to you from Captain Singleton, + could he be admitted to your speech. I pleaded ignorance as to the place + of your abode. The fellow was too well instructed for me to get any thing + out of him. + </p> + <p> + I wept for two hours incessantly on reading your's, which enclosed that + from your cousin Morden.* My dearest creature, do not desert yourself. Let + your Anna Howe obey the call of that friendship which has united us as one + soul, and endeavour to give you consolation. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XIX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I wonder not at the melancholy reflections you so often cast upon yourself + in your letters, for the step you have been forced upon on one hand, and + tricked into on the other. A strange fatality! As if it were designed to + show the vanity of all human prudence. I wish, my dear, as you hint, that + both you and I have not too much prided ourselves in a perhaps too + conscious superiority over others. But I will stop—how apt are weak + minds to look out for judgments in any extraordinary event! 'Tis so far + right, that it is better, and safer, and juster, to arraign ourselves, or + our dearest friends, than Providence; which must always have wise ends to + answer its dispensations. + </p> + <p> + But do not talk, as if one of your former, of being a warning only*—you + will be as excellent an example as ever you hoped to be, as well as a + warning: and that will make your story, to all that shall come to know it, + of double efficacy: for were it that such a merit as yours could not + ensure to herself noble and generous usage from a libertine heart, who + will expect any tolerable behaviour from men of his character? + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXVIII. + </p> + <p> + If you think yourself inexcusable for taking a step that put you into the + way of delusion, without any intention to go off with him, what must those + giddy creatures think of themselves, who, without half your provocations + and inducements, and without any regard to decorum, leap walls, drop from + windows, and steal away from their parents' house, to the seducer's bed, + in the same day? + </p> + <p> + Again, if you are so ready to accuse yourself for dispensing with the + prohibitions of the most unreasonable parents, which yet were but half- + prohibitions at first, what ought those to do, who wilfully shut their + ears to the advice of the most reasonable; and that perhaps, where + apparent ruin, or undoubted inconvenience, is the consequence of the + predetermined rashness? + </p> + <p> + And lastly, to all who will know your story, you will be an excellent + example of watchfulness, and of that caution and reserve by which a + prudent person, who has been supposed to be a little misled, endeavours to + mend her error; and, never once losing sight of her duty, does all in her + power to recover the path she has been rather driven out of than chosen to + swerve from. + </p> + <p> + Come, come, my dearest friend, consider but these things; and steadily, + without desponding, pursue your earnest purposes to amend what you think + has been amiss; and it may not be a misfortune in the end that you have + erred; especially as so little of your will was in your error. + </p> + <p> + And indeed I must say that I use the words misled, and error, and such- + like, only in compliment to your own too-ready self-accusations, and to + the opinion of one to whom I owe duty: for I think in my conscience, that + every part of your conduct is defensible: and that those only are blamable + who have no other way to clear themselves but by condemning you. + </p> + <p> + I expect, however, that such melancholy reflections as drop from your pen + but too often will mingle with all your future pleasures, were you to + marry Lovelace, and were he to make the best of husbands. + </p> + <p> + You was immensely happy, above the happiness of a mortal creature, before + you knew him: every body almost worshipped you: envy itself, which has of + late reared up its venomous head against you, was awed, by your superior + worthiness, into silence and admiration. You was the soul of every company + where you visited. Your elders have I seen declining to offer their + opinions upon a subject till you had delivered yours; often, to save + themselves the mortification of retracting theirs, when they heard yours. + Yet, in all this, your sweetness of manners, your humility and affability, + caused the subscription every one made to your sentiments, and to your + superiority, to be equally unfeigned, and unhesitating; for they saw that + their applause, and the preference they gave you to themselves, subjected + not themselves to insults, nor exalted you into any visible triumph over + them; for you had always something to say on every point you carried that + raised the yielding heart, and left every one pleased and satisfied with + themselves, though they carried not off the palm. + </p> + <p> + Your works were showed or referred to wherever fine works were talked of. + Nobody had any but an inferior and second-hand praise for diligence, for + economy, for reading, for writing, for memory, for facility in learning + every thing laudable, and even for the more envied graces of person and + dress, and an all-surpassing elegance in both, where you were known, and + those subjects talked of. + </p> + <p> + The poor blessed you every step you trod: the rich thought you their + honour, and took a pride that they were not obliged to descend from their + own class for an example that did credit to it. + </p> + <p> + Though all men wished for you, and sought you, young as you were; yet, had + not those who were brought to address you been encouraged out of sordid + and spiteful views, not one of them would have dared to lift up his eyes + to you. + </p> + <p> + Thus happy in all about you, thus making happy all within your circle, + could you think that nothing would happen to you, to convince you that you + were not to be exempted from the common lot?—To convince you, that + you were not absolutely perfect; and that you must not expect to pass + through life without trial, temptation, and misfortune? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, it must be owned that no trial, no temptation, worthy of your + virtue, and of your prudence, could well have attacked you sooner, because + of your tender years, and more effectually, than those heavy ones under + which you struggle; since it must be allowed, that you equanimity and + foresight made you superior to common accidents; for are not most of the + troubles that fall to the lot of common mortals brought upon themselves + either by their too large desires, or too little deserts?— Cases, + both, from which you stood exempt.—It was therefore to be some man, + or some worse spirit in the shape of one, that, formed on purpose, was to + be sent to invade you; while as many other such spirits as there are + persons in your family were permitted to take possession, severally, in + one dark hour, of the heart of every one of it, there to sit perching, + perhaps, and directing every motion to the motions of the seducer without, + in order to irritate, to provoke, to push you forward to meet him. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, there seems, as I have often said, to have been a kind of + fate in your error, if it were an error; and this perhaps admitted for the + sake of a better example to be collected from your SUFFERINGS, than could + have been given, had you never erred: for my dear, the time of ADVERSITY + is your SHINING-TIME. I see it evidently, that adversity must call forth + graces and beauties which could not have been brought to light in a run of + that prosperous fortune which attended you from your cradle till now; + admirably as you became, and, as we all thought, greatly as you deserved + that prosperity. + </p> + <p> + All the matter is, the trial must be grievous to you. It is to me: it is + to all who love you, and looked upon you as one set aloft to be admired + and imitated, and not as a mark, as you have lately found, for envy to + shoot its shafts at. + </p> + <p> + Let what I have written above have its due weight with you, my dear; and + then, as warm imaginations are not without a mixture of enthusiasm, your + Anna Howe, who, on reperusal of it, imagines it to be in a style superior + to her usual style, will be ready to flatter herself that she has been in + a manner inspired with the hints that have comforted and raised the + dejected heart of her suffering friend; who, from such hard trials, in a + bloom so tender, may find at times her spirits sunk too low to enable her + to pervade the surrounding darkness, which conceals from her the hopeful + dawning of the better day which awaits her. + </p> + <p> + I will add no more at present, than that I am Your ever faithful and + affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, MAY 12. + </p> + <p> + I must be silent, my exalted friend, under praises that oppress my heart + with a consciousness of not deserving them; at the same time that the + generous design of those praises raises and comforts it: for it is a + charming thing to stand high in the opinion of those we love; and to find + that there are souls that can carry their friendships beyond accidents, + beyond body and ties of blood. Whatever, my dearest creature, is my + shining-time, the time of a friend's adversity is yours. And it would be + almost a fault in me to regret those afflictions, which give you an + opportunity so gloriously to exert those qualities, which not only ennoble + our sex, but dignify human nature. + </p> + <p> + But let me proceed to subjects less agreeable. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry you have reason to think Singleton's projects are not at an + end. But who knows what the sailor had to propose?—Yet had any good + been intended me, this method would hardly have been fallen upon. + </p> + <p> + Depend upon it, my dear, your letters shall be safe. + </p> + <p> + I have made a handle of Mr. Lovelace's bold attempt and freedom, as I told + you I would, to keep him ever since at a distance, that I may have an + opportunity to see the success of the application to my uncle, and to be + at liberty to embrace any favourable overtures that may arise from it. Yet + he has been very importunate, and twice brought Mr. Mennell from Mrs. + Fretchvill to talk about the house.—If I should be obliged to make + up with him again, I shall think I am always doing myself a spite. + </p> + <p> + As to what you mention of his newly-detected crimes; and your advice to + attach Dorcas to my interest; and to come at some of his letters; these + things will require more or less of my attention, as I may hope favour or + not from my uncle Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry that my poor Hannah continues ill. Pray, my dear, inform + yourself, and let me know, whether she wants any thing that befits her + case. + </p> + <p> + I will not close this letter till to-morrow is over; for I am resolved to + go to church; and this as well for the sake of my duty, as to see if I am + at liberty to go out when I please without being attended or accompanied. + </p> + <p> + SUNDAY, MAY 14. + </p> + <p> + I have not been able to avoid a short debate with Mr. Lovelace. I had + ordered a coach to the door. When I had noticed that it was come, I went + out of my chamber to go to it; but met him dressed on the stairs head, + with a book in his hand, but without his hat and sword. He asked, with an + air very solemn yet respectful, if I were going abroad. I told him I was. + He desired leave to attend me, if I were going to church. I refused him. + And then he complained heavily of my treatment of him; and declared that + he would not live such another week as the past, for the world. + </p> + <p> + I owned to him very frankly, that I had made an application to my friends; + and that I was resolved to keep myself to myself till I knew the issue of + it. + </p> + <p> + He coloured, and seemed surprised. But checking himself in something he + was going to say, he pleaded my danger from Singleton, and again desired + to attend me. + </p> + <p> + And then he told me, that Mrs. Fretchville had desired to continue a + fortnight longer in the house. She found, said he, that I was unable to + determine about entering upon it; and now who knows when such a vapourish + creature will come to a resolution? This, Madam, has been an unhappy week; + for had I not stood upon such bad terms with you, you might have been new + mistress of that house; and probably had my cousin Montague, if not Lady + Betty, actually with you. + </p> + <p> + And so, Sir, taking all you say for granted, your cousin Montague cannot + come to Mrs. Sinclair's? What, pray, is her objection to Mrs. Sinclair's? + Is this house fit for me to live in a month or two, and not fit for any of + your relations for a few days?—And Mrs. Fretchville has taken more + time too!—Then, pushing by him, I hurried down stairs. + </p> + <p> + He called to Dorcas to bring him his sword and hat; and following me down + into the passage, placed himself between me and the door; and again + desired leave to attend me. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair came out at that instant, and asked me, if I did not choose + a dish of chocolate? + </p> + <p> + I wish, Mrs. Sinclair, said I, you would take this man in with you to your + chocolate. I don't know whether I am at liberty to stir out without his + leave or not. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to him, I asked, if he kept me there his prisoner? + </p> + <p> + Dorcas just then bringing him his sword and hat, he opened the street- + door, and taking my reluctant hand, led me, in a very obsequious manner, + to the coach. People passing by, stopped, stared, and whispered—But + he is so graceful in his person and dress, that he generally takes every + eye. + </p> + <p> + I was uneasy to be so gazed at; and he stepped in after me, and the + coachman drove to St. Paul's. + </p> + <p> + He was very full of assiduities all the way; while I was as reserved as + possible: and when I returned, dined, as I had done the greatest part of + the week, by myself. + </p> + <p> + He told me, upon my resolving to do so, that although he would continue + his passive observance till I knew the issue of my application, yet I must + expect, that then I should not rest one moment till I had fixed his happy + day: for that his very soul was fretted with my slights, resentments, and + delays. + </p> + <p> + A wretch! when can I say, to my infinite regret, on a double account, that + all he complains of is owing to himself! + </p> + <p> + O that I may have good tidings from my uncle! + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest friend—This shall lie ready for an exchange (as I + hope for one to-morrow from you) that will decide, as I may say, the + destiny of + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MRS. JUDITH NORTON THURSDAY, MAY 11. + </p> + <p> + GOOD MRS. NORTON, + </p> + <p> + Cannot you, without naming me as an adviser, who am hated by the family, + contrive a way to let Mrs. Harlowe know, that in an accidental + conversation with me, you had been assured that my beloved friend pines + after a reconciliation with her relations? That she has hitherto, in hopes + of it, refused to enter into any obligation that shall be in the least a + hinderance [sic] to it: that she would fain avoid giving Mr. Lovelace a + right to make her family uneasy in relation to her grandfather's estate: + that all she wishes for still is to be indulged in her choice of a single + life, and, on that condition, would make her father's pleasure her's with + regard to that estate: that Mr. Lovelace is continually pressing her to + marry him; and all his friends likewise: but that I am sure she has so + little liking to the man, because of his faulty morals, and of the + antipathy of her relations to him, that if she had any hope given her of a + reconciliation, she would forego all thoughts of him, and put herself into + her father's protection. But that their resolution must be speedy; for + otherwise she would find herself obliged to give way to his pressing + entreaties; and it might then be out of her power to prevent disagreeable + litigations. + </p> + <p> + I do assure you, Mrs. Norton, upon my honour, that our dearest friend + knows nothing of this procedure of mine: and therefore it is proper to + acquaint you, in confidence, with my grounds for it.—These are they: + </p> + <p> + She had desired me to let Mr. Hickman drop hints to the above effect to + her uncle Harlowe; but indirectly, as from himself, lest, if the + application should not be attended with success, and Mr. Lovelace (who + already takes it ill that he has so little of her favour) come to know it, + she may be deprived of every protection, and be perhaps subjected to great + inconveniencies from so haughty a spirit. + </p> + <p> + Having this authority from her, and being very solicitous about the + success of the application, I thought, that if the weight of so good a + wife, mother, and sister, as Mrs. Harlowe is known to be, were thrown into + the same scale with that of Mr. John Harlowe (supposing he could be + engaged) it could hardly fail of making a due impression. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman will see Mr. John Harlowe to-morrow: by that time you may see + Mrs. Harlowe. If Mr. Hickman finds the old gentleman favourable, he will + tell him, that you will have seen Mrs. Harlowe upon the same account; and + will advise him to join in consultation with her how best to proceed to + melt the most obdurate heart in the world. + </p> + <p> + This is the fair state of the matter, and my true motive for writing to + you. I leave all, therefore, to your discretion; and most heartily wish + success to it; being of opinion that Mr. Lovelace cannot possibly deserve + our admirable friend: nor indeed know I the man who does. + </p> + <p> + Pray acquaint me by a line of the result of your interposition. If it + prove not such as may be reasonably hoped for, our dear friend shall know + nothing of this step from me; and pray let her not from you. For, in that + case, it would only give deeper grief to a heart already too much + afflicted. I am, dear and worthy Mrs. Norton, + </p> + <p> + Your true friend, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + MRS. NORTON, TO MISS HOWE SATURDAY, MAY 13. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + My heart is almost broken, to be obliged to let you know, that such is the + situation of things in the family of my ever-dear Miss Harlowe, that there + can be at present no success expected from any application in her favour. + Her poor mother is to be pitied. I have a most affecting letter from her; + but must not communicate it to you; and she forbids me to let it be known + that she writes upon the subject; although she is compelled, as it were, + to do it, for the ease of her own heart. I mention it therefore in + confidence. + </p> + <p> + I hope in God that my beloved young lady has preserved her honour + inviolate. I hope there is not a man breathing who could attempt a + sacrilege so detestable. I have no apprehension of a failure in a virtue + so established. God for ever keep so pure a heart out of the reach of + surprises and violence! Ease, dear Madam, I beseech you, my over-anxious + heart, by one line, by the bearer, although but one line, to acquaint me + (as surely you can) that her honour is unsullied.—If it be not, + adieu to all the comforts this life can give: since none will it be able + to afford + </p> + <p> + To the poor JUDITH NORTON. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MRS. JUDITH NORTON SATURDAY EVENING, MAY 13. + </p> + <p> + DEAR, GOOD WOMAN, + </p> + <p> + Your beloved's honour is inviolate!—Must be inviolate! and will be + so, in spite of men and devils. Could I have had hope of a reconciliation, + all my view was, that she should not have had this man.—All that can + be said now, is, she must run the risk of a bad husband: she of whom no + man living is worthy! + </p> + <p> + You pity her mother—so do not I! I pity no mother that puts it out + of her power to show maternal love, and humanity, in order to patch up for + herself a precarious and sorry quiet, which every blast of wind shall + disturb. + </p> + <p> + I hate tyrants in ever form and shape: but paternal and maternal tyrants + are the worst of all: for they can have no bowels. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, that I pity none of them. Our beloved friend only deserves pity. + She had never been in the hands of this man, but for them. She is quite + blameless. You don't know all her story. Were I to tell you that she had + no intention to go off with this man, it would avail her nothing. It would + only deserve to condemn, with those who drove her to extremities, him who + now must be her refuge. I am + </p> + <p> + Your sincere friend and servant, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVIII + </p> + <p> + MRS. HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON [NOT COMMUNICATED TILL THE LETTERS CAME TO BE + COLLECTED.] SATURDAY, MAY 13. + </p> + <p> + I return an answer in writing, as I promised, to your communication. But + take no notice either to my Bella's Betty, (who I understand sometimes + visits you,) or to the poor wretch herself, nor to any body, that I do + write. I charge you don't. My heart is full: writing may give some vent to + my griefs, and perhaps I may write what lies most upon my heart, without + confining myself strictly to the present subject. + </p> + <p> + You know how dear this ungrateful creature ever was to us all. You know + how sincerely we joined with every one of those who ever had seen her, or + conversed with her, to praise and admire her; and exceeded in our praise + even the bounds of that modesty, which, because she was our own, should + have restrained us; being of opinion, that to have been silent in the + praise of so apparent a merit must rather have argued blindness or + affectation in us, than that we should incur the censure of vain + partiality to our own. + </p> + <p> + When therefore any body congratulated us on such a daughter, we received + their congratulations without any diminution. If it was said, you are + happy in this child! we owned, that no parents ever were happier in a + child. If, more particularly, they praised her dutiful behaviour to us, we + said, she knew not how to offend. If it were said, Miss Clarissa Harlowe + has a wit and penetration beyond her years; we, instead of disallowing it, + would add—and a judgment no less extraordinary than her wit. If her + prudence was praised, and a forethought, which every one saw supplied what + only years and experience gave to others—nobody need to scruple + taking lessons from Clarissa Harlowe, was our proud answer. + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, O forgive me, my dear Norton—But I know you will; for + yours, when good, was this child, and your glory as well as mine. + </p> + <p> + But have you not heard strangers, as she passed to and from church, stop + to praise the angel of a creature, as they called her; when it was enough + for those who knew who she was, to cry, Why, it is Miss Clarissa Harlowe! + —as if every body were obliged to know, or to have heard of Clarissa + Harlowe, and of her excellencies. While, accustomed to praise, it was too + familiar to her, to cause her to alter either her look or her pace. + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I could not stifle a pleasure that had perhaps a faulty + vanity for its foundation, whenever I was spoken of, or addressed to, as + the mother of so sweet a child: Mr. Harlowe and I, all the time, loving + each other the better for the share each had in such a daughter. + </p> + <p> + Still, still indulge the fond, the overflowing heart of a mother! I could + dwell for ever upon the remembrance of what she was, would but that + remembrance banish from my mind what she is! + </p> + <p> + In her bosom, young as she was, could I repose all my griefs—sure of + receiving from her prudence and advice as well as comfort; and both + insinuated in so dutiful a manner, that it was impossible to take those + exceptions which the distance of years and character between a mother and + a daughter would have made one apprehensive of from any other daughter. + She was our glory when abroad, our delight when at home. Every body was + even covetous of her company; and we grudged her to our brothers Harlowe, + and to our sister and brother Hervey. No other contention among us, then, + but who should be next favoured by her. No chiding ever knew she from us, + but the chiding of lovers, when she was for shutting herself up too long + together from us, in pursuit of those charming amusements and useful + employments, for which, however, the whole family was the better. + </p> + <p> + Our other children had reason (good children as they always were) to think + themselves neglected. But they likewise were so sensible of their sister's + superiority, and of the honour she reflected upon the whole family, that + they confessed themselves eclipsed, without envying the eclipser. Indeed, + there was not any body so equal with her, in their own opinions, as to + envy what all aspired but to emulate. The dear creature, you know, my + Norton, gave an eminence to us all! + </p> + <p> + Then her acquirements. Her skill in music, her fine needle-works, her + elegance in dress; for which she was so much admired, that the + neighbouring ladies used to say, that they need not fetch fashions from + London; since whatever Miss Clarissa Harlowe wore was the best fashion, + because her choice of natural beauties set those of art far behind them. + Her genteel ease, and fine turn of person; her deep reading, and these, + joined to her open manners, and her cheerful modesty—O my good + Norton, what a sweet child was once my Clary Harlowe! + </p> + <p> + This, and more, you knew her to be: for many of her excellencies were + owing to yourself; and with the milk you gave her, you gave her what no + other nurse in the world could give her. + </p> + <p> + And do you think, my worthy woman, do you think, that the wilful lapse of + such a child is to be forgiven? Can she herself think that she deserves + not the severest punishment for the abuse of such talents as were + intrusted to her? + </p> + <p> + Her fault was a fault of premeditation, of cunning, of contrivance. She + had deceived every body's expectations. Her whole sex, as well as the + family she sprung from, is disgraced by it. + </p> + <p> + Would any body ever have believed that such a young creature as this, who + had by her advice saved even her over-lively friend from marrying a fop, + and a libertine, would herself have gone off with one of the vilest and + most notorious of libertines? A man whose character she knew; and knew it + to be worse than the character of him from whom she saved her friend; a + man against whom she was warned: one who had her brother's life in her + hands; and who constantly set our whole family at defiance. + </p> + <p> + Think for me, my good Norton; think what my unhappiness must be both as a + wife and a mother. What restless days, what sleepless nights; yet my own + rankling anguish endeavoured to be smoothed over, to soften the anguish of + fiercer spirits, and to keep them from blazing out to further mischief! O + this naughty, naughty girl, who knew so well what she did; and who could + look so far into consequences, that we thought she would have died rather + than have done as she had done! + </p> + <p> + Her known character for prudence leaves her absolutely without excuse. How + then can I offer to plead for her, if, through motherly indulgence, I + would forgive her myself?—And have we not moreover suffered all the + disgrace that can befall us? Has not she? + </p> + <p> + If now she has so little liking to his morals, has she not reason before + to have as little? Or has she suffered by them in her own person?—O + my good woman, I doubt—I doubt—Will not the character of the + man make one doubt an angel, if once in his power? The world will think + the worst. I am told it does. So likewise her father fears; her brother + hears; and what can I do? + </p> + <p> + Our antipathy to him she knew before, as well as his character. These + therefore cannot be new motives without a new reason.—O my dear Mrs. + Norton, how shall I, how can you, support ourselves under the + apprehensions to which these thoughts lead! + </p> + <p> + He continually pressing her, you say, to marry him: his friends likewise. + She has reason, no doubt she has reason, for this application to us: and + her crime is glossed over, to bring her to us with new disgrace! Whither, + whither, does one guilty step lead the misguided heart!—And now, + truly, to save a stubborn spirit, we are only to be sounded, that the + application may be occasionally retracted or denied! + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole: were I inclined to plead for her, it is now the most + improper of all times. Now that my brother Harlowe has discouraged (as he + last night came hither on purpose to tell us) Mr. Hickman's insinuated + application; and been applauded for it. Now, that my brother Antony is + intending to carry his great fortune, through her fault, into another + family:—she expecting, no doubt, herself to be put into her + grandfather's estate, in consequence of a reconciliation, and as a reward + for her fault: and insisting still upon the same terms which she offered + before, and which were rejected—Not through my fault, I am sure, + rejected! + </p> + <p> + From all these things you will return such an answer as the case requires. + It might cost me the peace of my whole life, at this time, to move for + her. God forgive her! If I do, nobody else will. And let it, for your own + sake, as well as mine, be a secret that you and I have entered upon this + subject. And I desire you not to touch upon it again but by particular + permission: for, O my dear, good woman, it sets my heart a bleeding in as + many streams as there are veins in it! + </p> + <p> + Yet think me not impenetrable by a proper contrition and remorse—But + what a torment is it to have a will without a power! + </p> + <p> + Adieu! adieu! God give us both comfort; and to the once dear—the + ever- dear creature (for can a mother forget her child?) repentance, deep + repentance! and as little suffering as may befit his blessed will, and her + grievous fault, prays + </p> + <p> + Your real friend, CHARLOTTE HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SUNDAY, MAY 14. + </p> + <p> + How it is now, my dear, between you and Mr. Lovelace, I cannot tell. But, + wicked as the man is, I am afraid he must be your lord and master. + </p> + <p> + I called him by several very hard names in my last. I had but just heard + of some of his vilenesses, when I sat down to write; so my indignation was + raised. But on inquiry, and recollection, I find that the facts laid to + his charge were all of them committed some time ago—not since he has + had strong hopes of your favour. + </p> + <p> + This is saying something for him. His generous behaviour to the + innkeeper's daughter is a more recent instance to his credit; to say + nothing of the universal good character he has as a kind landlord. And + then I approve much of the motion he made to put you in possession of Mrs. + Fretchville's house, while he continues at the other widow's, till you + agree that one house shall hold you. I wish this were done. Be sure you + embrace this offer, (if you do not soon meet at the altar,) and get one of + his cousins with you. + </p> + <p> + Were you once married, I should think you cannot be very unhappy, though + you may not be so happy with him as you deserve to be. The stake he has in + his country, and his reversions; the care he takes of his affairs; his + freedom from obligation; nay, his pride, with your merit, must be a + tolerable security for you, I should think. Though particulars of his + wickedness, as they come to my knowledge, hurt and incense me; yet, after + all, when I give myself time to reflect, all that I have heard of him to + his disadvantage was comprehended in the general character given of him + long ago, by Lord M.'s and his own dismissed bailiff,* and which was + confirmed to me by Mrs. Fortescue, as I heretofore told you,** and to you + by Mrs. Greme.*** + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. I. Letter IV. ** Ibid. Letter XII. *** See Vol. III. Letter VI. + </p> + <p> + You can have nothing, therefore, I think, to be deeply concerned about, + but his future good, and the bad example he may hereafter set to his own + family. These indeed are very just concerns: but were you to leave him + now, either with or without his consent, his fortunes and alliances so + considerable, his person and address so engaging, (every one excusing you + now on those accounts, and because of your relations' follies,) it would + have a very ill appearance for your reputation. I cannot, therefore, on + the most deliberate consideration, advise you to think of that, while you + have no reason to doubt his honour. May eternal vengeance pursue the + villain, if he give room for an apprehension of this nature! + </p> + <p> + Yet his teasing ways are intolerable; his acquiescence with your slight + delays, and his resignedness to the distance you now keep him at, (for a + fault so much slighter, as he must think, than the punishment,) are + unaccountable: He doubts your love of him, that is very probable; but you + have reason to be surprised at his want of ardour; a blessing so great + within his reach, as I may say. + </p> + <p> + By the time you have read to this place, you will have no doubt of what + has been the issue of the conference between the two gentlemen. I am + equally shocked, and enraged against them all. Against them all, I say; + for I have tried your good Norton's weight with your mother, (though at + first I did not intend to tell you so,) to the same purpose as the + gentleman sounded your uncle. Never were there such determined brutes in + the world! Why should I mince the matter? Yet would I fain, methinks, make + an exception for your mother. + </p> + <p> + Your uncle will have it that you are ruined. 'He can believe every thing + bad of a creature, he says, who could run away with a man; with such a one + especially as Lovelace. They expected applications from you, when some + heavy distress had fallen upon you. But they are all resolved not to stir + an inch in your favour; no, not to save your life!' + </p> + <p> + My dearest soul, resolve to assert your right. Claim your own, and go and + live upon it, as you ought. Then, if you marry not, how will the wretches + creep to you for your reversionary dispositions! + </p> + <p> + You were accused (as in your aunt's letter) 'of premeditation and + contrivance in your escape.' Instead of pitying you, the mediating person + was called upon 'to pity them; who once, your uncle said, doated upon you: + who took no joy but in your presence: who devoured your words as you spoke + them: who trod over again your footsteps, as you walked before them.'—And + I know not what of this sort. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, it is now evident to me, and so it must be to you, when + you read this letter, that you must be his. And the sooner you are so the + better. Shall we suppose that marriage is not in your power?—I + cannot have patience to suppose that. + </p> + <p> + I am concerned, methinks, to know how you will do to condescend, (now you + see you must be his,) after you have kept him at such a distance; and for + the revenge his pride may put him upon taking for it. But let me tell you, + that if my going up, and sharing fortunes with you, will prevent such a + noble creature from stooping too low; much more, were it likely to prevent + your ruin, I would not hesitate a moment about it. What is the whole world + to me, weighed against such a friend as you are? Think you, that any of + the enjoyments of this life could be enjoyments to me, were you involved + in calamities, from which I could either alleviate or relieve you, by + giving up those enjoyments? And what in saying this, and acting up to it, + do I offer you, but the frits of a friendship your worth has created? + </p> + <p> + Excuse my warmth of expression. The warmth of my heart wants none. I am + enraged at your relations; for, bad as what I have mentioned is, I have + not told you all; nor now, perhaps, ever will. I am angry at my own + mother's narrowness of mind, and at her indiscriminate adherence to old + notions. And I am exasperated against your foolish, your low-vanity'd + Lovelace. But let us stoop to take the wretch as he is, and make the best + of him, since you are destined to stoop, to keep grovellers and worldlings + in countenance. He had not been guilty of a direct indecency to you. Nor + dare he—not so much of a devil as that comes to neither. Had he such + villainous intentions, so much in his power as you are, they would have + shewn themselves before now to such a penetrating and vigilant eye, and to + such a pure heart as yours. Let us save the wretch then, if we can, though + we soil our fingers in lifting him up his dirt. + </p> + <p> + There is yet, to a person of your fortune and independence, a good deal to + do, if you enter upon those terms which ought to be entered upon. I don't + find that he has once talked of settlements; nor yet of the license. A + foolish wretch!—But as your evil destiny has thrown you out of all + other protection and mediation, you must be father, mother, uncle, to + yourself; and enter upon the requisite points for yourself. It is hard + upon you; but indeed you must. Your situation requires it. What room for + delicacy now?—Or would you have me write to him? yet that would be + the same thing as if you were to write yourself. Yet write you should, I + think, if you cannot speak. But speaking is certainly best: for words + leave no traces; they pass as breath; and mingle with air; and may be + explained with latitude. But the pen is a witness on record. + </p> + <p> + I know the gentleness of your spirit; I know the laudable pride of your + heart; and the just notion you have of the dignity of our sex in these + delicate points. But once more, all this in nothing now: your honour is + concerned that the dignity I speak of should not be stood upon. + </p> + <p> + 'Mr. Lovelace,' would I say; yet hate the foolish fellow for his low, his + stupid pride, in wishing to triumph over the dignity of his own wife;— + 'I am by your means deprived of every friend I have in the world. In what + light am I to look upon you? I have well considered every thing. You have + made some people, much against my liking, think me a wife: others know I + am not married; nor do I desire any body should believe I am: Do you think + your being here in the same house with me can be to my reputation? You + talked to me of Mrs. Fretchville's house.' This will bring him to renew + his last discourse on the subject, if he does not revive it of himlsef. + 'If Mrs. Fretchville knows not her own mind, what is her house to me? You + talked of bringing up your cousin Montague to bear me company: if my + brother's schemes be your pretence for not going yourself to fetch her, + you can write to her. I insist upon bringing these two points to an issue: + off or on ought to be indifferent to me, if so to them.' + </p> + <p> + Such a declaration must bring all forward. There are twenty ways, my dear, + that you would find out for another in your circumstances. He will + disdain, from his native insolence, to have it thought he has any body to + consult. Well then, will he not be obliged to declare himself? And if he + does, no delays on your side, I beseech you. Give him the day. Let it be a + short one. It would be derogating from your own merit, not to be so + explicit as he ought to be, to seem but to doubt his meaning; and to wait + for that explanation for which I should ever despise him, if he makes it + necessary. Twice already have you, my dear, if not oftener modesty'd away + such opportunities as you ought not to have slipped. As to settlements, if + they come not in naturally, e'en leave them to his own justice, and to the + justice of his family, And there's an end of the matter. + </p> + <p> + This is my advice: mend it as circumstances offer, and follow your own. + But indeed, my dear, this, or something like it, would I do. And let him + tell me afterwards, if he dared or would, that he humbled down to his + shoe-buckles the person it would have been his glory to exalt. + </p> + <p> + Support yourself, mean time, with reflections worthy of yourself. Though + tricked into this man's power, you are not meanly subjugated to it. All + his reverence you command, or rather, as I may say, inspire; since it was + never known, that he had any reverence for aught that was good, till you + was with him: and he professes now and then to be so awed and charmed by + your example, as that the force of it shall reclaim him. + </p> + <p> + I believe you will have a difficult task to keep him to it; but the more + will be your honour, if you effect his reformation: and it is my belief, + that if you can reclaim this great, this specious deceiver, who has, + morally speaking, such a number of years before him, you will save from + ruin a multitude of innocents; for those seem to me to have been the prey + for which he has spread his wicked snares. And who knows but, for this + very purpose, principally, a person may have been permitted to swerve, + whose heart or will never was in her error, and who has so much remorse + upon her for having, as she thinks, erred at all? Adieu, my dearest + friend. + </p> + <p> + ANNA HOWE. ENCLOSED IN THE ABOVE. + </p> + <p> + I must trouble you with my concerns, though your own are so heavy upon + you. A piece of news I have to tell you. Your uncle Antony is disposed to + marry. With whom, think you? with my mother. True indeed. Your family + knows it. All is laid with redoubled malice at your door. And there the + old soul himself lays it. + </p> + <p> + Take no notice of this intelligence, not so much as in your letters to me, + for fear of accidents. + </p> + <p> + I think it can't do. But were I to provoke my mother, that might afford a + pretence. Else, I should have been with you before now, I fancy. + </p> + <p> + The first likelihood that appears to me of encouragement, I dismiss + Hickman, that's certain. If my mother disoblige me in so important an + article, I shan't think of obliging her in such another. It is impossible, + surely, that the desire of popping me off to that honest man can be with + such a view. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, that it cannot come to any thing. But these widows—Then + such a love in us all, both old and young, of being courted and admired!—and + so irresistible to their elderships to be flattered, that all power is not + over with them; but that they may still class and prank it with their + daughters.—It vexed me heartily to have her tell me of this proposal + with self-complaisant simperings; and yet she affected to speak of it as + if she had no intention to encourage it. + </p> + <p> + These antiquated bachelors (old before they believe themselves to be so) + imagine that when they have once persuaded themselves to think of the + state, they have nothing more to do than to make their minds known to the + woman. + </p> + <p> + Your uncle's overgrown fortune is indeed a bait; a tempting one. A saucy + daughter to be got rid of! The memory of the father of that daughter not + precious enough to weigh much!—But let him advance if he dare—let + her encourage—but I hope she won't. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, my dear. I am nettled. They have fearfully rumpled my gorget. + You'll think me faulty. So, I won't put my name to this separate paper. + Other hands may resemble mine. You did not see me write it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE MONDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 15. + </p> + <p> + Now indeed it is evident, my best, my only friend, that I have but one + choice to make. And now I do find that I have carried my resentment + against this man too far; since now I am to appear as if under an + obligation to his patience with me for a conduct, which perhaps he will + think (if not humoursome and childish) plainly demonstrative of my little + esteem of him; of but a secondary esteem at least, where before, his + pride, rather than his merit, had made him expect a first. O my dear! to + be cast upon a man that is not a generous man; that is indeed a cruel man! + a man that is capable of creating a distress to a young creature, who, by + her evil destiny is thrown into his power; and then of enjoying it, as I + may say! [I verily think I may say so, of this savage!]—What a fate + is mine! + </p> + <p> + You give me, my dear, good advice, as to the peremptory manner in which I + ought to treat him: But do you consider to whom it is that you give it?— + And then should I take it, and should he be capable of delay, I + unprotected, desolate, nobody to fly to, in what a wretched light must I + stand in his eyes; and, what is still as bad, in my own! O my dear, see + you not, as I do, that the occasion for this my indelicate, my shocking + situation should never have been given by me, of all creatures; since I am + unequal, utterly unequal, to the circumstances to which my inconsideration + has reduced me?—What! I to challenge a man for a husband!—I to + exert myself to quicken the delayer in his resolutions! and, having as you + think lost an opportunity, to begin to try to recall it, as from myself, + and for myself! to threaten him, as I may say, into the marriage state!—O + my dear! if this be right to be done, how difficult is it, where modesty + and self (or where pride, if you please) is concerned, to do that right? + or, to express myself in your words, to be father, mother, uncle, to + myself!—especially where one thinks a triumph over one is intended. + </p> + <p> + You say, you have tried Mrs. Norton's weight with my mother—bad as + the returns are which my application by Mr. Hickman has met with, you tell + me, 'that you have not acquainted me with all the bad, nor now, perhaps, + ever will.' But why so, my dear? What is the bad, what can be the bad, + which now you will never tell me of?—What worse, than renounce me! + and for ever! 'My uncle, you say, believes me ruined: he declares that he + can believe every thing bad of a creature who could run away with a man: + and they have all made a resolution not to stir an inch in my favour; no, + not to save my life!'—Have you worse than this, my dear, behind?—Surely + my father has not renewed his dreadful malediction!—Surely, if so, + my mother has not joined in it! Have my uncles given their sanction, and + made it a family act? And themselves thereby more really faulty, than ever + THEY suppose me to be, though I the cause of that greater fault in them?—What, + my dear, is the worst, that you will leave for ever unrevealed? + </p> + <p> + O Lovelace! why comest thou not just now, while these black prospects are + before me? For now, couldst thou look into my heart, wouldst thou see a + distress worthy of thy barbarous triumph! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I was forced to quit my pen. And you say you have tried Mrs. Norton's + weight with my mother? + </p> + <p> + What is done cannot be remedied: but I wish you had not taken a step of + this importance to me without first consulting me. Forgive me, my dear, + but I must tell you that that high-soul'd and noble friendship which you + have ever avowed with so obliging and so uncommon a warmth, although it + has been always the subject of my grateful admiration, has been often the + ground of my apprehension, because of its unbridled fervour. + </p> + <p> + Well, but now to look forward, you are of opinion that I must be his: and + that I cannot leave him with reputation to myself, whether with or without + his consent. I must, if so, make the best of the bad matter. + </p> + <p> + He went out in the morning; intending not to return to dinner, unless (as + he sent me word) I would admit him to dine with me. + </p> + <p> + I excused myself. The man, whose anger is now to be of such high + importance to me, was, it seems, displeased. + </p> + <p> + As he (as well as I) expected that I should receive a letter from you this + day by Collins, I suppose he will not be long before he returns; and then, + possibly, he is to be mighty stately, mighty mannish, mighty coy, if you + please! And then must I be very humble, very submissive, and try to + insinuate myself into his good graces: with downcast eye, if not by + speech, beg his forgiveness for the distance I have so perversely kept him + at?—Yes, I warrant!—But I shall see how this behaviour will + sit upon me!—You have always rallied me upon my meekness, I think: + well then, I will try if I can be still meeker, shall I!—O my dear!— + </p> + <p> + But let me sit with my hands before me, all patience, all resignation; for + I think I hear him coming up. Or shall I roundly accost him, in the words, + in the form, which you, my dear, prescribed? + </p> + <p> + He is come in. He has sent to me, all impatience, as Dorcas says, by his + aspect.—But I cannot, cannot see him! + </p> + <p> + MONDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + The contents of your letter, and my own heavy reflections, rendered me + incapable of seeing this expecting man. The first word he asked Dorcas, + was, If I had received a letter since he had been out? She told me this; + and her answer, that I had; and was fasting, and had been in tears ever + since. + </p> + <p> + He sent to desire an interview with me. + </p> + <p> + I answered by her, That I was not very well. In the morning, if better, I + would see him as soon as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + Very humble! was it not, my dear? Yet he was too royal to take it for + humility; for Dorcas told me, he rubbed one side of his face impatiently; + and said a rash word, and was out of humour; stalking about the room. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, he sent again; desiring very earnestly, that I should + admit him to supper with me. He would enter upon no subjects of + conversation but what I should lead to. + </p> + <p> + So I should have been at liberty, you see, to court him! + </p> + <p> + I again desired to be excused. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear, my eyes were swelled: I was very low spirited; and could + not think of entering all at once, after the distance I had kept him at + for several days, into the freedom of conversation which the utter + rejection I have met with from my relations, as well as your advice, has + made necessary. + </p> + <p> + He sent up to tell me, that as he heard I was fasting, if I would promise + to eat some chicken which Mrs. Sinclair had ordered for supper, he would + acquiesce.—Very kind in his anger! Is he not? + </p> + <p> + I promised that I would. Can I be more preparatively condescending?—How + happy, I'll warrant, if I may meet him in a kind and forgiving humour! + </p> + <p> + I hate myself! But I won't be insulted. Indeed I won't, for all this. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY, MAY 16. + </p> + <p> + I think once more we seem to be in a kind of train; but through a storm. I + will give you the particulars. + </p> + <p> + I heard him in the dining-room at five in the morning. I had rested very + ill, and was up too. But opened not my door till six: when Dorcas brought + me his request for my company. + </p> + <p> + He approached me, and taking my hand, as I entered the dining-room, I went + not to bed, Madam, till two, said he; yet slept not a wink. For God's + sake, torment me not, as you have done for a week past. + </p> + <p> + He paused. I was silent. + </p> + <p> + At first, proceeded he, I thought your resentment of a curiosity, in which + I had been disappointed, could not be deep; and that it would go off of + itself: But, when I found it was to be kept up till you knew the success + of some new overtures which you had made, and which, complied with, might + have deprived me of you for ever, how, Madam, could I support myself under + the thoughts of having, with such an union of interests, made so little + impression upon your mind in my favour? + </p> + <p> + He paused again. I was still silent. He went on. + </p> + <p> + I acknowledge that I have a proud heart, Madam. I cannot but hope for some + instances of previous and preferable favour from the lady I am ambitious + to call mine; and that her choice of me should not appear, not flagrantly + appear, directed by the perverseness of her selfish persecutors, who are + my irreconcilable enemies. + </p> + <p> + More to the same purpose he said. You know, my dear, the room he had given + me to recriminate upon him in twenty instances. I did not spare him. + </p> + <p> + Every one of these instances, said I, (after I had enumerated them) + convinces me of your pride indeed, Sir, but not of your merit. I confess, + that I have as much pride as you can have, although I hope it is of + another kind than that you so readily avow. But if, Sir, you have the + least mixture in yours of that pride which may be expected, and thought + laudable, in a man of your birth, alliances, and fortune, you should + rather wish, I will presume to say, to promote what you call my pride, + than either to suppress it, or to regret that I have it. It is this my + acknowledged pride, proceeded I, that induces me to tell you, Sir, that I + think it beneath me to disown what have been my motives for declining, for + some days past, any conversation with you, or visit from Mr. Mennell, that + might lead to points out of my power to determine upon, until I heard from + my uncle Harlowe; whom, I confess, I have caused to be sounded, whether I + might be favoured with his interest to obtain for me a reconciliation with + my friends, upon terms which I had caused to be proposed. + </p> + <p> + I know not, said he, and suppose must not presume to ask, what those terms + were. But I can but too well guess at them; and that I was to have been + the preliminary sacrifice. But you must allow me, Madam, to say, That as + much as I admire the nobleness of your sentiments in general, and in + particular that laudable pride which you have spoken of, I wish that I + could compliment you with such an uniformity in it, as had set you as much + above all submission to minds implacable and unreasonable, (I hope I may, + without offence, say, that your brother's and sister's are such,) as it + has above all favour and condescension to me. + </p> + <p> + Duty and nature, Sir, call upon me to make the submissions you speak of: + there is a father, there is a mother, there are uncles in the one case, to + justify and demand those submissions. What, pray, Sir, can be pleaded for + the condescension, as you call it? Will you say, your merits, either with + regard to them, or to myself, may? + </p> + <p> + This, Madam, to be said, after the persecutions of those relations! After + what you have suffered! After what you have made me hope! Let me, my + dearest creature, ask you, (we have been talking of pride,) What sort of + pride must his be, which can dispense with inclination and preference in + the lady whom he adores?—What must that love— + </p> + <p> + Love, Sir! who talks of love?—Was not merit the thing we were + talking of?—Have I ever professed, have I ever required of you + professions of a passion of that nature?—But there is no end of + these debatings; each so faultless, each so full of self— + </p> + <p> + I do not think myself faultless, Madam:—but— + </p> + <p> + But what, Sir!—Would you ever more argue with me, as if you were a + child?—Seeking palliations, and making promises?—Promises of + what, Sir? Of being in future the man it is a shame a gentleman is not?—Of + being the man— + </p> + <p> + Good God! interrupted he, with eyes lifted up, if thou wert to be thus + severe— + </p> + <p> + Well, well, Sir! [impatiently] I need only to observe, that all this vast + difference in sentiment shows how unpaired our minds are—so let us— + </p> + <p> + Let us what, Madam?—My soul is rising into tumults! And he looked so + wildly, that I was a good deal terrified—Let us what, Madam?—— + </p> + <p> + I was, however, resolved not to desert myself—Why, Sir! let us + resolve to quit every regard for each other.—Nay, flame not out—I + am a poor weak-minded creature in some things: but where what I should be, + or not deserve to live, if I am not is in the question, I have a great and + invincible spirit, or my own conceit betrays me—let us resolve to + quit every regard for each other that is more than civil. This you may + depend upon: I will never marry any other man. I have seen enough of your + sex; at least of you.—A single life shall ever be my choice: while I + will leave you at liberty to pursue your own. + </p> + <p> + Indifference, worse than indifference! said he, in a passion— + </p> + <p> + Interrupting him—Indifference let it be—you have not (in my + opinion at least) deserved that it should be other: if you have in your + own, you have cause (at least your pride has) to hate me for misjudging + you. + </p> + <p> + Dearest, dearest creature! snatching my hand with fierceness, let me + beseech you to be uniformly noble! Civil regards, Madam!—Civil + regards! —Can you so expect to narrow and confine such a passion as + mine? + </p> + <p> + Such a passion as yours, Mr. Lovelace, deserves to be narrowed and + confined. It is either the passion you do not think it, or I do not. I + question whether your mind is capable of being so narrowed and so widened, + as is necessary to make it be what I wish it to be. Lift up your hands and + your eyes, Sir, in silent wonder, if you please; but what does that wonder + express, what does it convince me of, but that we are not born for one + another. + </p> + <p> + By my soul, said he, and grasped my hand with an eagerness that hurt it, + we were born for one another: you must be mine—you shall be mine + [and put his other hand round me] although my damnation were to be the + purchase! + </p> + <p> + I was still more terrified—let me leave you, Mr. Lovelace, said I; + or do you be gone from me. Is the passion you boast of to be thus + shockingly demonstrated? + </p> + <p> + You must not go, Madam!—You must not leave me in anger— + </p> + <p> + I will return—I will return—when you can be less violent—less + shocking. + </p> + <p> + And he let me go. + </p> + <p> + The man quite frighted me; insomuch, that when I got into my chamber, I + found a sudden flow of tears a great relief to me. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour, he sent a little billet, expressing his concern for the + vehemence of his behaviour, and prayed to see me. + </p> + <p> + I went. Because I could not help myself, I went. + </p> + <p> + He was full of excuses—O my dear, what would you, even you, do with + such a man as this; and in my situation? + </p> + <p> + It was very possible for him now, he said, to account for the workings of + a beginning phrensy. For his part, he was near distraction. All last week + to suffer as he had suffered; and now to talk of civil regards only, when + he had hoped, from the nobleness of my mind— + </p> + <p> + Hope what you will, interrupted I, I must insist upon it, that our minds + are by no means suited to each other. You have brought me into + difficulties. I am deserted by every friend but Miss Howe. My true + sentiments I will not conceal—it is against my will that I must + submit to owe protection from a brother's projects, which Miss Howe thinks + are not given over, to you, who have brought me into these straights: not + with my own concurrence brought me into them; remember that— + </p> + <p> + I do remember that, Madam!—So often reminded, how can I forget it?— + </p> + <p> + Yet I will owe to you this protection, if it be necessary, in the earnest + hope that you will shun, rather than seek mischief, if any further inquiry + after me be made. But what hinders you from leaving me?—Cannot I + send to you? The widow Fretchville, it is plain, knows not her own mind: + the people here are more civil to me every day than other: but I had + rather have lodgings more agreeable to my circumstances. I best know what + will suit them; and am resolved not to be obliged to any body. If you + leave me, I will privately retire to some one of the neighbouring + villages, and there wait my cousin Morden's arrival with patience. + </p> + <p> + I presume, Madam, replied he, from what you have said, that your + application to Harlowe-place has proved unsuccessful: I therefore hope + that you will now give me leave to mention the terms in the nature of + settlements, which I have long intended to propose to you; and which + having till now delayed to do, through accidents not proceeding from + myself, I had thoughts of urging to you the moment you entered upon your + new house; and upon your finding yourself as independent in appearance as + you are in fact. Permit me, Madam, to propose these matters to you— + not with an expectation of your immediate answer; but for your + consideration. + </p> + <p> + Were not hesitation, a self-felt glow, a downcast eye, encouragement more + than enough? and yet you will observe (as I now do on recollection) that + he was in no great hurry to solicit for a day; since he had no thoughts of + proposing settlements till I had got into my new house; and now, in his + great complaisance to me, he desired leave to propose his terms, not with + an expectation of my immediate answer; but for my consideration only + —Yet, my dear, your advice was too much in my head at this time. I + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + He urged on upon my silence; he would call God to witness to the justice, + nay to the generosity of his intentions to me, if I would be so good as to + hear what he had to propose to me, as to settlements. + </p> + <p> + Could not the man have fallen into the subject without this parade? Many a + point, you know, is refused, and ought to be refused, if leave be asked to + introduce it; and when once refused, the refusal must in honour be adhered + to—whereas, had it been slid in upon one, as I may say, it might + have merited further consideration. If such a man as Mr. Lovelace knows + not this, who should? + </p> + <p> + But he seemed to think it enough that he had asked my leave to propose his + settlements. He took no advantage of my silence, as I presume men as + modest as Mr. Lovelace would have done in a like case: yet, gazing in my + face very confidently, and seeming to expect my answer, I thought myself + obliged to give the subject a more diffuse turn, in order to save myself + the mortification of appearing too ready in my compliance, after such a + distance as had been between us; and yet (in pursuance of your advice) I + was willing to avoid the necessity of giving him such a repulse as might + again throw us out of the course—a cruel alternative to be reduced + to! + </p> + <p> + You talk of generosity, Mr. Lovelace, said I; and you talk of justice; + perhaps, without having considered the force of the words, in the sense + you use them on this occasion.—Let me tell you what generosity is, + in my sense of the word—TRUE GENEROSITY is not confined to pecuniary + instances: it is more than politeness: it is more than good faith: it is + more than honour; it is more than justice; since all of these are but + duties, and what a worthy mind cannot dispense with. But TRUE GENEROSITY + is greatness of soul. It incites us to do more by a fellow-creature than + can be strictly required of us. It obliges us to hasten to the relief of + an object that wants relief; anticipating even such a one's hope or + expectation. Generosity, Sir, will not surely permit a worthy mind to + doubt of its honourable and beneficent intentions: much less will it allow + itself to shock, to offend any one; and, least of all, a person thrown by + adversity, mishap, or accident, into its protection. + </p> + <p> + What an opportunity had he to clear his intentions had he been so + disposed, from the latter part of this home observation!—but he ran + away with the first, and kept to that. + </p> + <p> + Admirably defined! he said—But who, at this rate, Madam, can be said + to be generous to you?—Your generosity I implore, while justice, as + it must be my sole merit, shall be my aim. Never was there a woman of such + nice and delicate sentiments! + </p> + <p> + It is a reflection upon yourself, Sir, and upon the company you have kept, + if you think these notions either nice or delicate. Thousands of my sex + are more nice than I; for they would have avoided the devious path I have + been surprised into; the consequences of which surprise have laid me under + the sad necessity of telling a man, who has not delicacy enough to enter + into those parts of the female character which are its glory and + distinction, what true generosity is. + </p> + <p> + His divine monitress, he called me. He would endeavour to form his manners + (as he had often promised) by my example. But he hoped I would now permit + him to mention briefly the justice he proposed to do me, in the terms of + the settlements; a subject so proper, before now, to have entered upon; + and which would have been entered upon long ago, had not my frequent + displeasure [I am ever in fault, my dear!] taken from him the opportunity + he had often wished for: but now, having ventured to lay hold of this, + nothing should divert him from improving it. + </p> + <p> + I have no spirits, just now, Sir, to attend such weighty points. What you + have a mind to propose, write to me: and I shall know what answer to + return. Only one thing let me remind you of, that if you touch upon a + subject, in which my father has a concern, I shall judge by your treatment + of the father what value you have for the daughter. + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he would choose rather to speak than write: but had he + said so, I had a severe return to have made upon him; as possibly he might + see by my looks. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + In this way are we now: a sort of calm, as I said, succeeding a storm. + What may happen next, whether a storm or a calm, with such a spirit as I + have to deal with, who can tell? + </p> + <p> + But, be that as it will, I think, my dear, I am not meanly off: and that + is a great point with me; and which I know you will be glad to hear: if it + were only, that I can see this man without losing any of that dignity + [What other word can I use, speaking of myself, that betokens decency, and + not arrogance?] which is so necessary to enable me to look up, or rather + with the mind's eye, I may say, to look down upon a man of this man's + cast. + </p> + <p> + Although circumstance have so offered, that I could not take your advice + as to the manner of dealing with him; yet you gave me so much courage by + it, as has enabled me to conduct things to this issue; as well as + determined me against leaving him: which, before, I was thinking to do, at + all adventures. Whether, when it came to the point, I should have done so, + or not, I cannot say, because it would have depended upon his behaviour at + the time. + </p> + <p> + But let his behaviour be what it will, I am afraid, (with you,) that + should any thing offer at last to oblige me to leave him, I shall not mend + my situation in the world's eye; but the contrary. And yet I will not be + treated by him with indignity while I have any power to help myself. + </p> + <p> + You, my dear, have accused me of having modesty'd away, as you phrase it, + several opportunities of being—Being what, my dear?—Why, the + wife of a libertine: and what a libertine and his wife are my cousin + Morden's letter tells us.—Let me here, once for all, endeavour to + account for the motives of behavior to this man, and for the principles I + have proceeded upon, as they appear to me upon a close self-examination. + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to allow me to think that my motives on this occasion rise not + altogether from maidenly niceness; nor yet from the apprehension of what + my present tormenter, and future husband, may think of a precipitate + compliance, on such a disagreeable behaviour as his: but they arise + principally from what offers to my own heart; respecting, as I may say, + its own rectitude, its own judgment of the fit and the unfit; as I would, + without study, answer for myself to myself, in the first place; to him, + and to the world, in the second only. Principles that are in my mind; that + I found there; implanted, no doubt, by the first gracious Planter: which + therefore impel me, as I may say, to act up to them, that thereby I may, + to the best of my judgment, be enabled to comport myself worthily in both + states, (the single and the married), let others act as they will by me. + </p> + <p> + I hope, my dear, I do not deceive myself, and, instead of setting about + rectifying what is amiss in my heart, endeavour to find excuses for habits + and peculiarities, which I am unwilling to cast off or overcome. The heart + is very deceitful: do you, my dear friend, lay mine open, [but surely it + is always open before you!] and spare me not, if you think it culpable. + </p> + <p> + This observation, once for all, as I said, I thought proper to make, to + convince you that, to the best of my judgment, my errors, in matters as + well of lesser moment as of greater, shall rather be the fault of my + judgment than of my will. + </p> + <p> + I am, my dearest friend, Your ever obliged, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE TUESDAY NIGHT, MAY 16. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace has sent me, by Dorcas, his proposals, as follow: + </p> + <p> + 'To spare a delicacy so extreme, and to obey you, I write: and the rather + that you may communicate this paper to Miss Howe, who may consult any of + her friends you shall think proper to have intrusted on this occasion. I + say intrusted; because, as you know, I have given it out to several + persons, that we are actually married. + </p> + <p> + 'In the first place, Madam, I offer to settle upon you, by way of + jointure, your whole estate: and moreover to vest in trustees such a part + of mine in Lancashire, as shall produce a clear four hundred pounds a + year, to be paid to your sole and separate use quarterly. + </p> + <p> + 'My own estate is a clear not nominnal 2000l. per annum. Lord M. proposes + to give me possession either of that which he has in Lancashire, [to + which, by the way, I think I have a better title than he has himself,] or + that we call The Lawn, in Hertfordshire, upon my nuptials with a lady whom + he so greatly admires; and to make that I shall choose a clear 1000l. per + annum. + </p> + <p> + 'My too great contempt of censure has subjected me to much slander. It may + not therefore be improper to assure you, on the word of a gentleman, that + no part of my estate was ever mortgaged: and that although I lived very + expensively abroad, and made large draughts, yet that Midsummer-day next + will discharge all that I owe in the world. My notions are not all bad + ones. I have been thought, in pecuniary cases, generous. It would have + deserved another name, had I not first been just. + </p> + <p> + 'If, as your own estate is at present in your father's hands, you rather + choose that I should make a jointure out of mine, tantamount to yours, be + it what it will, it shall be done. I will engage Lord M. to write to you, + what he proposes to do on the happy occasion: not as your desire or + expectation, but to demonstrate, that no advantage is intended to be taken + of the situation you are in with your own family. + </p> + <p> + 'To shew the beloved daughter the consideration I have for her, I will + consent that she shall prescribe the terms of agreement in relation to the + large sums, which must be in her father's hands, arising from her + grandfather's estate. I have no doubt, but he will be put upon making + large demands upon you. All those it shall be in your power to comply + with, for the sake of your own peace. And the remainder shall be paid into + your hands, and be entirely at your disposal, as a fund to support those + charitable donations, which I have heard you so famed for out of your + family, and for which you have been so greatly reflected upon in it. + </p> + <p> + 'As to clothes, jewels, and the like, against the time you shall choose to + make your appearance, it will be my pride that you shall not be beholden + for such of these, as shall be answerable to the rank of both, to those + who have had the stupid folly to renounce a daughter they deserved not. + You must excuse me, Madam: you would mistrust my sincerity in the rest, + could I speak of these people without asperity, though so nearly related + to you. + </p> + <p> + 'These, Madam, are my proposals. They are such as I always designed to + make, whenever you would permit me to enter into the delightful subject. + But you have been so determined to try every method for reconciling + yourself to your relations, even by giving me absolutely up for ever, that + you seemed to think it but justice to keep me at a distance, till the + event of that your predominant hope could be seen. It is now seen! —and + although I have been, and perhaps still am, ready to regret the want of + that preference I wished for from you as Miss Clarissa Harlowe, yet I am + sure, as the husband of Mrs. Lovelace, I shall be more ready to adore than + to blame you for the pangs you have given to a heart, the generosity, or + rather, the justice of which, my implacable enemies have taught you to + doubt: and this still the readier, as I am persuaded that those pangs + never would have been given by a mind so noble, had not the doubt been + entertained (perhaps with too great an appearance of reason); and as I + hope I shall have it to reflect, that the moment the doubt shall be + overcome, the indifference will cease. + </p> + <p> + 'I will only add, that if I have omitted any thing, that would have given + you farther satisfaction; or if the above terms be short of what you would + wish; you will be pleased to supply them as you think fit. And when I know + your pleasure, I will instantly order articles to be drawn up comformably, + that nothing in my power may be wanting to make you happy. + </p> + <p> + 'You will now, dearest Madam, judge, how far all the rest depends upon + yourself.' + </p> + <p> + You see, my dear, what he offers. You see it is all my fault, that he has + not made these offers before. I am a strange creature!—to be to + blame in every thing, and to every body; yet neither intend the ill at the + time, nor know it to be the ill too late, or so nearly too late, that I + must give up all the delicacy he talks of, to compound for my fault! + </p> + <p> + I shall now judge how far the rest depends upon myself! So coldly + concludes he such warm, and, in the main, unobjectionably proposals: Would + you not, as you read, have supposed, that the paper would conclude with + the most earnest demand of a day?—I own, I had that expectation so + strong, resulting naturally, as I may say, from the premises, that without + studying for dissatisfaction, I could not help being dissatisfied when I + came to the conclusion. + </p> + <p> + But you say there is no help. I must perhaps make further sacrifices. All + delicacy it seems is to be at an end with me!—but, if so, this man + knows not what every wise man knows, that prudence, and virtue, and + delicacy of mind in a wife, do the husband more real honour in the eye of + the world, than the same qualities (were she destitute of them) in + himself, do him: as the want of them in her does him more dishonour: For + are not the wife's errors the husband's reproach? how justly his reproach, + is another thing. + </p> + <p> + I will consider this paper; and write to it, if I am able: for it seems + now, all the rest depends upon myself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE WEDNESDAY MORNING, MAY 17. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace would fain have engaged me last night. But as I was not + prepared to enter upon the subject of his proposals, (intending to + consider them maturely,) and was not highly pleased with his conclusion, I + desired to be excused seeing him till morning; and the rather, as there is + hardly any getting from him in tolerable time overnight. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, about seven o'clock we met in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + I find he was full of expectation that I should meet him with a very + favourable, who knows but with a thankful, aspect? and I immediately found + by his sullen countenance, that he was under no small disappointment that + I did not. + </p> + <p> + My dearest love, are you well? Why look you so solemn upon me? Will your + indifference never be over? If I have proposed terms in any respect short + of your expectation— + </p> + <p> + I told him, that he had very considerately mentioned my shewing his + proposals to Miss Howe; and as I should have a speedy opportunity to send + them to her by Collins, I desired to suspend any talk upon that subject + till I had her opinion upon them. + </p> + <p> + Good God!—If there was but the least loop-hole! the least room for + delay!—But he was writing a letter to Lord M. to give him an account + of his situation with me, and could not finish it so satisfactorily, + either to my Lord or to himself, as if I would condescend to say, whether + the terms he had proposed were acceptable, or not. + </p> + <p> + Thus far, I told him, I could say, that my principal point was peace and + reconciliation with my relations. As to other matters, the gentleness of + his own spirit would put him upon doing more for me than I should ask, or + expect. Wherefore, if all he had to write about was to know what Lord M. + would do on my account, he might spare himself the trouble, for that my + utmost wishes, as to myself, were much more easily gratified than he + perhaps imagined. + </p> + <p> + He asked me then, if I would so far permit him to touch upon the happy + day, as to request the presence of Lord M. on the occasion, and to be my + father? + </p> + <p> + Father had a sweet and venerable sound with it, I said. I should be glad + to have a father who would own me! + </p> + <p> + Was not this plain speaking, think you, my dear? Yet it rather, I must + own, appears so to me on reflection, than was designed freely at the time. + For I then, with a sigh from the bottom of my heart, thought of my own + father; bitterly regretting, that I am an outcast from him and from my + mother. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace I thought seemed a little affected at the manner of my + speaking, and perhaps at the sad reflection. + </p> + <p> + I am but a very young creature, Mr. Lovelace, said I, [and wiped my eyes + as I turned away my face,] although you have kindly, and in love to me, + introduced so much sorry to me already: so you must not wonder, that the + word father strikes so sensibly upon the heart of a child ever dutiful + till she knew you, and whose tender years still require the paternal wing. + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the window—[rejoice with me, my dear, since I seem + to be devoted to him, that the man is not absolutely impenetrable!] His + emotion was visible; yet he endeavoured to suppress it. Approaching me + again; again he was obliged to turn from me; angelic something, he said: + but then, obtaining a heart more suitable to his wish, he once more + approached me.—For his own part, he said, as Lord M. was so subject + to gout, he was afraid, that the compliment he had just proposed to make + him, might, if made, occasion a larger suspension than he could bear to + think of; and if it did, it would vex him to the heart that he had made + it. + </p> + <p> + I could not say a single word to this, you know, my dear. But you will + guess at my thoughts of what he said—so much passionate love, + lip-deep! so prudent, and so dutifully patient at heart to a relation he + had till now so undutifully despised!—Why, why, am I thrown upon + such a man, thought I! + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, as if contending with himself; and after taking a turn or + two about the room, He was at a great loss what to determine upon, he + said, because he had not the honour of knowing when he was to be made the + happiest of men—Would to God it might that very instant be resolved + upon! + </p> + <p> + He stopped a moment or two, staring in his usual confident way, in my + downcast face, [Did I not, O my beloved friend, think you, want a father + or a mother just then?] But if he could not, so soon as he wished, procure + my consent to a day; in that case, he thought the compliment might as well + be made to Lord M. as not, [See, my dear!] since the settlements might be + drawn and engrossed in the intervenient time, which would pacify his + impatience, as no time would be lost. + </p> + <p> + You will suppose how I was affected by this speech, by repeating the + substance of what he said upon it; as follows. + </p> + <p> + But, by his soul, he knew not, so much was I upon the reserve, and so much + latent meaning did my eye import, whether, when he most hoped to please + me, he was not farthest from doing so. Would I vouchsafe to say, whether I + approved of his compliment to Lord M. or not? + </p> + <p> + To leave it to me, to choose whether the speedy day he ought to have urged + for with earnestness, should be accelerated or suspended!—Miss Howe, + thought I, at that moment, says, I must not run away from this man! + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Mr. Lovelace, if this matter be ever to be, it must be + agreeable to me to have the full approbation of one side, since I cannot + have that of the other. + </p> + <p> + If this matter be ever to be! Good God! what words are these at this time + of day! and full approbation of one side! Why that word approbation? when + the greatest pride of all my family is, that of having the honour of so + dear a creature for their relation? Would to heaven, my dearest life, + added he, that, without complimenting any body, to-morrow might be the + happiest day of my life!—What say you, my angel? with a trembling + impatience, that seemed not affected—What say you for to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + It was likely, my dear, I could say much to it, or name another day, had I + been disposed to the latter, with such an hinted delay from him. + </p> + <p> + I was silent. + </p> + <p> + Next day, Madam, if not to-morrow?— + </p> + <p> + Had he given me time to answer, it could not have been in the affirmative, + you must think—but, in the same breath, he went on—Or the day + after that?—and taking both my hands in his, he stared me into a + half-confusion—Would you have had patience with him, my dear? + </p> + <p> + No, no, said I, as calmly as possible, you cannot think that I should + imagine there can be reason for such a hurry. It will be most agreeable, + to be sure, for my Lord to be present. + </p> + <p> + I am all obedience and resignation, returned the wretch, with a self- + pluming air, as if he had acquiesced to a proposal made by me, and had + complimented me with a great piece of self denial. + </p> + <p> + Is it not plain, my dear, that he designs to vex and tease me? Proud, yet + mean and foolish man, if so!—But you say all punctilio is at an end + with me. Why, why, will he take pains to make a heart wrap itself up in + reserve, that wishes only, and that for his sake as well as my own, to + observe due decorum? + </p> + <p> + Modesty, I think, required of me, that it should pass as he had put it: + Did it not?—I think it did. Would to heaven—but what signifies + wishing? + </p> + <p> + But when he would have rewarded himself, as he had heretofore called it, + for this self-supposed concession, with a kiss, I repulsed him with a just + and very sincere disdain. + </p> + <p> + He seemed both vexed and surprised, as one who had made the most agreeable + proposals and concessions, and thought them ungratefully returned. He + plainly said, that he thought our situation would entitle him to such an + innocent freedom: and he was both amazed and grieved to be thus scornfully + repulsed. + </p> + <p> + No reply could be made be me on such a subject. + </p> + <p> + I abruptly broke from him. I recollect, as I passed by one of the pier- + glasses, that I saw in it his clenched hand offered in wrath to his + forehead: the words, Indifference, by his soul, next to hatred, I heard + him speak; and something of ice he mentioned: I heard not what. + </p> + <p> + Whether he intends to write to my Lord, or Miss Montague, I cannot tell. + But, as all delicacy ought to be over with me now, perhaps I am to blame + to expect it from a man who may not know what it is. If he does not, and + yet thinks himself very polite, and intends not to be otherwise, I am + rather to be pitied, than he to be censured. + </p> + <p> + And after all, since I must take him as I find him, I must: that is to + say, as a man so vain and so accustomed to be admired, that, not being + conscious of internal defect, he has taken no pains to polish more than + his outside: and as his proposals are higher than my expectations; and as, + in his own opinion, he has a great deal to bear from me, I will (no new + offence preventing) sit down to answer them; and, if possible, in terms as + unobjectionable to him, as his are to me. + </p> + <p> + But after all, see you not, my dear, more and more, the mismatch that + there is in our minds? + </p> + <p> + However, I am willing to compound for my fault, by giving up, (if that may + be all my punishment) the expectation of what is deemed happiness in this + life, with such a husband as I fear he will make. In short, I will content + myself to be a suffering person through the state to the end of my life.—A + long one it cannot be! + </p> + <p> + This may qualify him (as it may prove) from stings of conscience from + misbehaviour to a first wife, to be a more tolerable one to a second, + though not perhaps a better deserving one: while my story, to all who + shall know it, will afford these instructions: That the eye is a traitor, + and ought ever to be mistrusted: that form is deceitful: in other words; + that a fine person is seldom paired by a fine mind: and that sound + principle and a good heart, are the only bases on which the hopes of a + happy future, either with respect to this world, or the other, can be + built. + </p> + <p> + And so much at present for Mr. Lovelace's proposals: Of which I desire + your opinion.* + </p> + <p> + * We cannot forbear observing in this place, that the Lady has been + particularly censured, even by some of her own sex, as over-nice in her + part of the above conversations: but surely this must be owing to want of + attention to the circumstances she was in, and to her character, as well + as to the character of the man she had to deal with: for, although she + could not be supposed to know so much of his designs as the reader does by + means of his letters to Belford, yet she was but too well convinced of his + faulty morals, and of the necessity there was, from the whole of his + behaviour to her, to keep such an encroacher, as she frequently calls him, + at a distance. In Letter XXXIII. of Vol. III. the reader will see, that + upon some favourable appearances she blames herself for her readiness to + suspect him. But his character, his principles, said she, are so faulty!—He + is so light, so vain, so various.——Then, my dear, I have no + guardian to depend upon. In Letter IX. of Vol. III. Must I not with such a + man, says she, be wanting to myself, were I not jealous and vigilant? + </p> + <p> + By this time the reader will see, that she had still greater reason for + her jealousy and vigilance. And Lovelace will tell the sex, as he does in + Letter XI. of Vol. V., that the woman who resents not initiatory freedoms, + must be lost. Love is an encroacher, says he: loves never goes backward. + Nothing but the highest act of love can satisfy an indulged love. + </p> + <p> + But the reader perhaps is too apt to form a judgment of Clarissa's conduct + in critical cases by Lovelace's complaints of her coldness; not + considering his views upon her; and that she is proposed as an example; + and therefore in her trials and distresses must not be allowed to dispense + with those rules which perhaps some others of the sex, in her delicate + situation, would not have thought themselves so strictly bound to observe; + although, if she had not observed them, a Lovelace would have carried all + his points. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Four letters are written by Mr. Lovelace from the date of his last, + giving the state of affairs between him and the Lady, pretty much the + same as in hers in the same period, allowing for the humour in his, + and for his resentments expressed with vehemence on her resolution to + leave him, if her friends could be brought to be reconciled to her.— + A few extracts from them will be only given.] +</pre> + <p> + What, says he, might have become of me, and of my projects, had not her + father, and the rest of the implacables, stood my friends? + </p> + <p> + [After violent threatenings of revenge, he says,] + </p> + <p> + 'Tis plain she would have given me up for ever: nor should I have been + able to prevent her abandoning of me, unless I had torn up the tree by the + roots to come at the fruit; which I hope still to bring down by a gentle + shake or two, if I can but have patience to stay the ripening seasoning. + </p> + <p> + [Thus triumphing in his unpolite cruelty, he says,] + </p> + <p> + After her haughty treatment of me, I am resolved she shall speak out. + There are a thousand beauties to be discovered in the face, in the accent, + in the bush-beating hesitations of a woman who is earnest about a subject + she wants to introduce, yet knows not how. Silly fellows, calling + themselves generous ones, would value themselves for sparing a lady's + confusion: but they are silly fellows indeed; and rob themselves of + prodigious pleasure by their forwardness; and at the same time deprive her + of displaying a world of charms, which can only be manifested on these + occasions. + </p> + <p> + I'll tell thee beforehand, how it will be with my charmer in this case— + she will be about it, and about it, several times: but I will not + understand her: at least, after half a dozen hem—ings, she will be + obliged to speak out—I think, Mr. Lovelace—I think, Sir—I + think you were saying some days ago—Still I will be all silence—her + eyes fixed upon my shoe-buckles, as I sit over-against her—ladies + when put to it thus, always admire a man's shoe-buckles, or perhaps some + particular beauties in the carpet. I think you said that Mrs. Fretchville—Then + a crystal tear trickles down each crimson cheek, vexed to have her virgin + pride so little assisted. But, come, my meaning dear, cry I to myself, + remember what I have suffered for thee, and what I have suffered by thee! + Thy tearful pausings shall not be helped out by me. Speak out, love!—O + the sweet confusion! Can I rob myself of so many conflicting beauties by + the precipitate charmer-pitying folly, by which a politer man [thou + knowest, lovely, that I am no polite man!] betrayed by his own tenderness, + and unused to female tears, would have been overcome? I will feign an + irresolution of mind on the occasion, that she may not quite abhor me—that + her reflections on the scene in my absence may bring to her remembrance + some beauties in my part of it: an irresolution that will be owing to awe, + to reverence, to profound veneration; and that will have more eloquence in + it than words can have. Speak out then, love, and spare not. + </p> + <p> + Hard-heartedness, as it is called, is an essential of the libertine's + character. Familiarized to the distresses he occasions, he is seldom + betrayed by tenderness into a complaisant weakness unworthy of himself. + </p> + <p> + [Mentioning the settlements, he says,] + </p> + <p> + I am in earnest as to the terms. If I marry her, [and I have no doubt that + I shall, after my pride, my ambition, my revenge, if thou wilt, is + gratified,] I will do her noble justice. The more I do for such a prudent, + such an excellent economist, the more shall I do for myself.— But, + by my soul, Belford, her haughtiness shall be brought down to own both + love and obligation to me. Nor will this sketch of settlements bring us + forwarder than I would have it. Modesty of sex will stand my friend at any + time. At the very altar, our hands joined, I will engage to make this + proud beauty leave the parson and me, and all my friends who should be + present, though twenty in number, to look like fools upon one another, + while she took wing, and flew out of the church door, or window, (if that + were open, and the door shut); and this only by a single word. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He mentions his rash expression, That she should be his, although his + damnation was to be the purchase.] +</pre> + <p> + At that instant, says he, I was upon the point of making a violent + attempt, but was checked in the very moment, and but just in time to save + myself, by the awe I was struck with on again casting my eye upon her + terrified but lovely face, and seeing, as I thought, her spotless heart in + every line of it. + </p> + <p> + O virtue, virtue! proceeds he, what is there in thee, that can thus + against his will affect the heart of a Lovelace!—Whence these + involuntary tremors, and fear of giving mortal offence?—What art + thou, that acting in the breast of a feeble woman, which never before, no, + not in my first attempt, young as I then was, and frightened at my own + boldness (till I found myself forgiven,) had such an effect upon me! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He paints in lively colours, that part of the scene between him and the + Lady, where she says, The word father has a sweet and venerable sound + with it.] +</pre> + <p> + I was exceedingly affected, says he, upon the occasion, but was ashamed to + be surprised into such a fit of unmanly weakness—so ashamed, that I + was resolved to subdue it at the instant, and to guard against the like + for the future. Yet, at that moment, I more than half regretted that I + could not permit her to enjoy a triumph which she so well deserved to + glory in—her youth, her beauty, her artless innocence, and her + manner, equally beyond comparison or description. But her indifference, + Belford! —That she could resolve to sacrifice me to the malice of my + enemies; and carry on the design in so clandestine a manner—and yet + love her, as I do, to phrensy!—revere her, as I do, to adoration!—These + were the recollections with which I fortified my recreant heart against + her!—Yet, after all, if she persevere, she must conquer!—Coward, + as she has made me, that never was a coward before! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He concludes his fourth letter in a vehement rage, upon her repulsing + him, when he offered to salute her; having supposed, as he owns, that + she would have been all condescension on his proposals to her.] +</pre> + <p> + This, says he, I will for ever remember against her, in order to steel my + heart, that I may cut through a rock of ice to hers; and repay her for the + disdain, the scorn, which glowed in her countenance, and was apparent in + her air, at her abrupt departure for me, after such obliging behaviour on + my side, and after I had so earnestly pressed her for an early day. The + women below say she hates me; she despises me!—And 'tis true: she + does; she must.—And why cannot I take their advice? I will not long, + my fair-one, be despised by thee, and laughed at by them! + </p> + <p> + Let me acquaint thee, Jack, adds he, by way of postscript, that this + effort of hers to leave me, if she could have been received; her sending + for a coach on Sunday; no doubt, resolving not to return, if she had gone + out without me, (for did she not declare that she had thoughts to retire + to some of the villages about town, where she could be safe and private?) + have, all together, so much alarmed me, that I have been adding to the + written instructions for my fellow and the people below how to act in case + she should elope in my absence: particularly letting Will. know what he + shall report to strangers in case she shall throw herself upon any such + with a resolution to abandon me. To these instructions I shall further add + as circumstances offer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY, MAY 18. + </p> + <p> + I have neither time nor patience, my dear friend, to answer every material + article in your last letters just now received. Mr. Lovelace's proposals + are all I like of him. And yet (as you do) I think, that he concludes them + not with the warmth and earnestness which we might naturally have expected + from him. Never in my life did I hear or read of so patient a man, with + such a blessing in his reach. But wretches of his cast, between you and + me, my dear, have not, I fancy, the ardors that honest men have. Who + knows, as your Bell once spitefully said, but he may have half a dozen + creatures to quit his hands of before he engages for life?—Yet I + believe you must not expect him to be honest on this side of his grand + climacteric. + </p> + <p> + He, to suggest delay from a compliment to be made to Lord M. and to give + time for settlements! He, a part of whose character it is, not to know + what complaisance to his relations is—I have no patience with him! + You did indeed want an interposing friend on the affecting occasion which + you mention in yours of yesterday morning. But, upon my word, were I to + have been that moment in your situation, and been so treated, I would have + torn his eyes out, and left it to his own heart, when I had done, to + furnish the reason for it. + </p> + <p> + Would to Heaven to-morrow, without complimenting any body, might be his + happy day!—Villain! After he had himself suggested the compliment!—And + I think he accuses YOU of delaying!—Fellow, that he is!—How my + heart is wrung— + </p> + <p> + But as matters now stand betwixt you, I am very unseasonable in expressing + my resentments against him.—Yet I don't know whether I am or not, + neither; since it is the most cruel of fates, for a woman to be forced to + have a man whom her heart despises. You must, at least, despise him; at + times, however. His clenched fist offered to his forehead on your leaving + him in just displeasure—I wish it had been a pole-axe, and in the + hand of his worst enemy. + </p> + <p> + I will endeavour to think of some method, of some scheme, to get you from + him, and to fix you safely somewhere till your cousin Morden arrives—A + scheme to lie by you, and to be pursued as occasion may be given. You are + sure, that you can go abroad when you please? and that our correspondence + is safe? I cannot, however (for the reasons heretofore mentioned + respecting your own reputation,) wish you to leave him while he gives you + not cause to suspect his honour. But your heart I know would be the + easier, if you were sure of some asylum in case of necessity. + </p> + <p> + Yet once more, I say, I can have no notion that he can or dare mean your + dishonour. But then the man is a fool, my dear—that's all. + </p> + <p> + However, since you are thrown upon a fool, marry the fool at the first + opportunity; and though I doubt that this man will be the most + ungovernable of fools, as all witty and vain fools are, take him as a + punishment, since you cannot as a reward: in short, as one given to + convince you that there is nothing but imperfection in this life. + </p> + <p> + And what is the result of all I have written, but this—Either marry, + my dear, or get from them all, and from him too. + </p> + <p> + You intend the latter, you'll say, as soon as you have opportunity. That, + as above hinted, I hope quickly to furnish you with: and then comes on a + trial between you and yourself. + </p> + <p> + These are the very fellows that we women do not naturally hate. We don't + always know what is, and what is not, in our power to do. When some + principal point we have long had in view becomes so critical, that we must + of necessity choose or refuse, then perhaps we look about us; are + affrighted at the wild and uncertain prospect before us; and, after a few + struggles and heart-aches, reject the untried new; draw in your horns, and + resolve to snail-on, as we did before, in a track we are acquainted with. + </p> + <p> + I shall be impatient till I have your next. I am, my dearest friend, + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and faithful ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, MAY 17. + </p> + <p> + I cannot conceal from you any thing that relates to yourself so much as + the enclosed does. You will see what the noble writer apprehends from you, + and wishes of you, with regard to Miss Harlowe, and how much at heart all + your relations have it that you do honourably by her. They compliment me + with an influence over you, which I wish with all my soul you would let me + have in this article. + </p> + <p> + Let me once more entreat thee, Lovelace, to reflect, before it be too late + (before the mortal offence be given) upon the graces and merits of this + lady. Let thy frequent remorses at last end in one effectual remorse. Let + not pride and wantonness of heart ruin the fairer prospects. By my faith, + Lovelace, there is nothing but vanity, conceit, and nonsense, in our wild + schemes. As we grow older, we shall be wiser, and looking back upon our + foolish notions of the present hour, (our youth dissipated,) shall + certainly despise ourselves when we think of the honourable engagements we + might have made: thou, more especially, if thou lettest such a matchless + creature slide through thy fingers. A creature pure from her cradle. In + all her actions and sentiments uniformly noble. Strict in the performance + of all her even unrewarded duties to the most unreasonable of fathers; + what a wife will she make the man who shall have the honour to call her + his! + </p> + <p> + What apprehensions wouldst thou have had reason for, had she been + prevailed upon by giddy or frail motives, for which one man, by + importunity, might prevail, as well as another? + </p> + <p> + We all know what an inventive genius thou art master of: we are all + sensible, that thou hast a head to contrive, and a heart to execute. Have + I not called thine the plotting'st heart in the universe? I called it so + upon knowledge. What woulds't thou more? Why should it be the most + villainous, as well as the most able?—Marry the lady; and, when + married, let her know what a number of contrivances thou hadst in + readiness to play off. Beg of her not to hate thee for the communication; + and assure her, that thou gavest them up for remorse, and in justice to + her extraordinary merit: and let her have the opportunity of + congratulating herself for subduing a heart so capable of what thou + callest glorious mischief. This will give her room for triumph; and even + thee no less: she, for hers over thee; thou, for thine over thyself. + </p> + <p> + Reflect likewise upon her sufferings for thee. Actually at the time thou + art forming schemes to ruin her, (at least in her sense of the word,) is + she not labouring under a father's curse laid upon her by thy means, and + for thy sake? and wouldst thou give operation and completion to that + curse, which otherwise cannot have effect? + </p> + <p> + And what, Lovelace, all the time is thy pride?—Thou that vainly + imaginest that the whole family of the Harlowes, and that of the Howes + too, are but thy machines, unknown to themselves, to bring about thy + purposes, and thy revenge, what art thou more, or better, than the + instrument even of her implacable brother, and envious sister, to + perpetuate the disgrace of the most excellent of sisters, to which they + are moved by vilely low and sordid motives?—Canst thou bear, + Lovelace, to be thought the machine of thy inveterate enemy James Harlowe?—Nay, + art thou not the cully of that still viler Joseph Leman, who serves + himself as much by thy money, as he does thee by the double part he acts + by thy direction?—And further still, art thou not the devil's agent, + who only can, and who certainly will, suitably reward thee, if thou + proceedest, and if thou effectest thy wicked purpose? + </p> + <p> + Could any man but thee put together upon paper the following questions + with so much unconcern as thou seemest to have written them?—give + them a reperusal, O heart of adamant! 'Whither can she fly to avoid me? + Her parents will not receive her. Her uncles will not entertain her. Her + beloved Norton is in their direction, and cannot. Miss Howe dare not. She + has not one friend in town but ME—is entirely a stranger to the + town.'*—What must that heart be that can triumph in a distress so + deep, into which she has been plunged by thy elaborate arts and + contrivances? And what a sweet, yet sad reflection was that, which had + like to have had its due effect upon thee, arising from thy naming Lord M. + for her nuptial father? her tender years inclining her to wish for a + father, and to hope a friend.—O my dear Lovelace, canst thou resolve + to be, instead of the father thou hast robbed her of, a devil? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest, that I have no interest, that I can have no view, in wishing + thee to do justice to this admirable creature. For thy own sake, once more + I conjure thee, for thy family's sake, and for the sake of our common + humanity, let me beseech thee to be just to Miss Clarissa Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + No matter whether these expostulations are in character from me, or not. I + have been and am bad enough. If thou takest my advice, which is (as the + enclosed will shew thee) the advice of all thy family, thou wilt perhaps + have it to reproach me (and but perhaps neither) that thou art not a worse + man than myself. But if thou dost not, and if thou ruinest such a virtue, + all the complicated wickedness of ten devils, let loose among the innocent + with full power over them, will not do so much vile and base mischief as + thou wilt be guilty of. + </p> + <p> + It is said that the prince on his throne is not safe, if a mind so + desperate can be found, as values not its own life. So may it be said, + that the most immaculate virtue is not safe, if a man can be met with who + has no regard to his own honour, and makes a jest of the most solemn vows + and protestations. + </p> + <p> + Thou mayest by trick, chicane, and false colours, thou who art worse than + a pickeroon in love, overcome a poor lady so entangled as thou hast + entangled her; so unprotected as thou hast made her: but consider, how + much more generous and just to her, and noble to thyself, it is, to + overcome thyself. + </p> + <p> + Once more, it is no matter whether my past or future actions countenance + my preachment, as perhaps thou'lt call what I have written: but this I + promise thee, that whenever I meet with a woman of but one half of Miss + Harlowe's perfections, who will favour me with her acceptance, I will take + the advice I give, and marry. Nor will I offer to try her honour at the + hazard of my own. + </p> + <p> + In other words, I will not degrade an excellent creature in her own eyes, + by trials, when I have no cause for suspicion. And let me add, with + respect to thy eagleship's manifestation, of which thou boastest, in thy + attempts upon the innocent and uncorrupted, rather than upon those whom + thou humourously comparest to wrens, wagtails, and phyl-tits, as thou + callest them,* that I hope I have it not once to reproach myself, that I + ruined the morals of any one creature, who otherwise would have been + uncorrupted. Guilt enough in contributing to the continued guilt of other + poor wretches, if I am one of those who take care she shall never rise + again, when she has once fallen. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XVII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Whatever the capital devil, under whose banner thou hast listed, will let + thee do, with regard to this incomparable woman, I hope thou wilt act with + honour in relation to the enclosed, between Lord M. and me; since his + Lordship, as thou wilt see, desires, that thou mayest not know he wrote on + the subject; for reasons, I think, very far from being creditable to + thyself: and that thou wilt take as meant, the honest zeal for thy + service, of + </p> + <p> + Thy real friend, J. BELFORD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + LORD M., TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. [ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.] M. HALL, + MONDAY, MAY 15. + </p> + <p> + SIR, + </p> + <p> + If any man in the world has power over my nephew, it is you. I therefore + write this, to beg you to interfere in the affair depending between him + and the most accomplished of women, as every one says; and what every one + says must be true. + </p> + <p> + I don't know that he has any bad designs upon her; but I know his temper + too well, not to be apprehensive upon such long delays: and the ladies + here have been for some time in fear for her: Lady Sarah in particular, + who (as you must know) is a wise woman, says, that these delays, in the + present case, must be from him, rather than from the lady. + </p> + <p> + He had always indeed a strong antipathy to marriage, and may think of + playing his dog's tricks by her, as he has by so many others. If there's + any danger of this, 'tis best to prevent it in time: for when a thing is + done, advice comes too late. + </p> + <p> + He has always had the folly and impertinence to make a jest of me for + using proverbs: but as they are the wisdom of whole nations and ages + collected into a small compass, I am not to be shamed out of sentences + that often contain more wisdom in them than the tedious harangues of most + of our parsons and moralists. Let him laugh at them, if he pleases: you + and I know better things, Mr. Belford—Though you have kept company + with a wolf, you have not learnt to howl of him. + </p> + <p> + But nevertheless, you must let him know that I have written to you on this + subject. I am ashamed to say it; but he has ever treated me as if I were a + man of very common understanding; and would, perhaps, think never the + better of the best advice in the world for coming from me. Those, Mr. + Belford, who most love, are least set by.—But who would expect + velvet to be made out of a sow's ear? + </p> + <p> + I am sure he has no reason however to slight me as he does. He may and + will be the better for me, if he outlives me; though he once told me to my + face, that I might do as I would with my estate; for that he, for his + part, loved his liberty as much as he despised money. And at another time, + twitting me with my phrases, that the man was above controul, who wanted + not either to borrow or flatter. He thought, I suppose, that I could not + cover him with my wings, without pecking at him with my bill; though I + never used to be pecking at him, without very great occasion: and, God + knows, he might have my very heart, if he would but endeavour to oblige + me, by studying his own good; for that is all I desire of him. Indeed, it + was his poor mother that first spoiled him; and I have been but too + indulgent to him since. A fine grateful disposition, you'll say, to return + evil for good! but that was always his way. It is a good saying, and which + was verified by him with a witness—Children when little, make their + parents fools; when great, mad. Had his parents lived to see what I have + seen of him, they would have been mad indeed. + </p> + <p> + This match, however, as the lady has such an extraordinary share of wisdom + and goodness, might set all to rights; and if you can forward it, I would + enable him to make whatever settlements he could wish; and should not be + unwilling to put him in possession of another pretty estate besides. I am + no covetous man, he knows. And, indeed, what is a covetous man to be + likened to so fitly, as to a dog in a wheel which roasts meat for others? + And what do I live for, (as I have often said,) but to see him and my two + nieces well married and settled. May Heaven settle him down to a better + mind, and turn his heart to more of goodness and consideration! + </p> + <p> + If the delays are on his side, I tremble for the lady; and, if on hers, + (as he tells my niece Charlotte,) I could wish she were apprized that + delays are dangerous. Excellent as she is, she ought not to depend on her + merits with such a changeable fellow, and such a profest marriage- hater, + as he has been. Desert and reward, I can assure her, seldom keep company + together. + </p> + <p> + But let him remember, that vengeance though it comes with leaden feet, + strikes with iron hands. If he behaves ill in this case, he may find it + so. What a pity it is, that a man of his talents and learning should be so + vile a rake! Alas! alas! Une poignée de bonne vie vaut mieux que plein muy + de clergée; a handful of good life is better than a whole bushel of + learning. + </p> + <p> + You may throw in, too, as a friend, that, should he provoke me, it may not + be too late for me to marry. My old friend Wycherly did so, when he was + older than I am, on purpose to plague his nephew: and, in spite of this + gout, I might have a child or two still. I have not been without some + thoughts that way, when he has angered me more than ordinary: but these + thoughts have gone off again hitherto, upon my considering, that the + children of very young and very old men (though I am not so very old + neither) last not long; and that old men, when they marry young women, are + said to make much of death: Yet who knows but that matrimony might be good + against the gouty humours I am troubled with? + </p> + <p> + No man is every thing—you, Mr. Belford, are a learned man. I am a + peer. And do you (as you best know how) inculcate upon him the force of + these wise sayings which follow, as well as those which went before; but + yet so indiscreetly, as that he may not know that you borrow your darts + from my quiver. These be they—Happy is the man who knows his follies + in his youth. He that lives well, lives long. Again, He that lives ill one + year, will sorrow for it seven. And again, as the Spaniards have it—Who + lives well, sees afar off! Far off indeed; for he sees into eternity, as a + man may say. Then that other fine saying, He who perishes in needless + dangers, is the Devil's martyr. Another proverb I picked up at Madrid, + when I accompanied Lord Lexington in his embassy to Spain, which might + teach my nephew more mercy and compassion than is in his nature I doubt to + shew; which is this, That he who pities another, remembers himself. And + this that is going to follow, I am sure he has proved the truth of a + hundred times, That he who does what he will seldom does what he ought. + Nor is that unworthy of his notice, Young men's frolics old men feel. My + devilish gout, God help me—but I will not say what I was going to + say. + </p> + <p> + I remember, that you yourself, complimenting me for my taste in pithy and + wise sentences, said a thing that gave me a high opinion of you; and it + was this: 'Men of talents,' said you, 'are sooner to be convinced by short + sentences than by long preachments, because the short sentences drive + themselves into the heart and stay there, while long discourses, though + ever so good, tire the attention; and one good thing drives out another, + and so on till all is forgotten.' + </p> + <p> + May your good counsel, Mr. Belford, founded upon these hints which I have + given, pierce his heart, and incite him to do what will be so happy for + himself, and so necessary for the honour of that admirable lady whom I + long to see his wife; and, if I may, I will not think of one for myself. + </p> + <p> + Should he abuse the confidence she has placed in him, I myself shall pray, + that vengeance may fall upon his head—Raro—I quite forget all + my Latin; but I think it is, Raro antecedentem scelestum deseruit pede + paean claudo: where vice goes before, vengeance (sooner or later) will + follow. But why do I translate these things for you? + </p> + <p> + I shall make no apologies for this trouble. I know how well you love him + and me; and there is nothing in which you could serve us both more + importantly, than in forwarding this match to the utmost of your power. + When it is done, how shall I rejoice to see you at M. Hall! Mean time, I + shall long to hear that you are likely to be successful with him; and am, + </p> + <p> + Dear Sir, Your most faithful friend and servant, M. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Lovelace having not returned an answer to Mr. Belford's expostulary + letter so soon as Mr. Belford expected, he wrote to him, expressing + his apprehension that he had disobliged him by his honest freedom. + Among other things, he says—] +</pre> + <p> + I pass my time here at Watford, attending my dying uncle, very heavily. I + cannot therefore, by any means, dispense with thy correspondence. And why + shouldst thou punish me, for having more conscience and more remorse than + thyself? Thou who never thoughtest either conscience or remorse an honour + to thee. And I have, besides, a melancholy story to tell thee, in relation + to Belton and his Thomasine; and which may afford a lesson to all the + keeping-class. + </p> + <p> + I have a letter from each of our three companions in the time. They have + all the wickedness that thou hast, but not the wit. Some new rogueries do + two of them boast of, which, I think, if completed, deserve the gallows. + </p> + <p> + I am far from hating intrigue upon principle. But to have awkward fellows + plot, and commit their plots to paper, destitute of the seasonings, of the + acumen, which is thy talent, how extremely shocking must their letters be!—But + do thou, Lovelace, whether thou art, or art not, determined upon thy + measures with regard to the fine lady in thy power, enliven my heavy heart + by thy communications; and thou wilt oblige + </p> + <p> + Thy melancholy friend, J. BELFORD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY NIGHT, MAY 19. + </p> + <p> + When I have opened my view to thee so amply as I have done in my former + letters; and have told thee, that my principal design is but to bring + virtue to a trial, that, if virtue, it need not be afraid of; and that the + reward of it will be marriage (that is to say, if, after I have carried my + point, I cannot prevail upon her to live with me the life of honour;* for + that thou knowest is the wish of my heart); I am amazed at the repetition + of thy wambling nonsense. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. + </p> + <p> + I am of opinion with thee, that some time hence, when I am grown wiser, I + shall conclude, that there is nothing but vanity, conceit, and nonsense, + in my present wild schemes. But what is this saying, but that I must be + first wiser? + </p> + <p> + I do not intend to let this matchless creature slide through my fingers. + </p> + <p> + Art thou able to say half the things in her praise, that I have said, and + am continually saying or writing? + </p> + <p> + Her gloomy father cursed the sweet creature, because she put it out of his + wicked power to compel her to have the man she hated. Thou knowest how + little merit she has with me on this score.—And shall I not try the + virtue I intended, upon full proof, to reward, because her father is a + tyrant?—Why art thou thus eternally reflecting upon so excellent a + woman, as if thou wert assured she would fail in the trial?—Nay, + thou declarest, every time thou writest on the subject, that she will, + that she must yield, entangled as she is: and yet makest her virtue the + pretence of thy solicitude for her. + </p> + <p> + An instrument of the vile James Harlowe, dost thou call me?—O Jack! + how could I curse thee!—I am instrument of that brother! of that + sister! But mark the end—and thou shalt see what will become of that + brother, and of that sister! + </p> + <p> + Play not against me my own acknowledged sensibilities, I desire thee. + Sensibilities, which at the same time that they contradict thy charge of + an adamantine heart in thy friend, thou hadst known nothing of, had I not + communicated them to thee. + </p> + <p> + If I ruin such a virtue, sayest thou!—Eternal monotonist!—Again; + the most immaculate virtue may be ruined by men who have no regard to + their honour, and who make a jest of the most solemn oaths, &c. What + must be the virtue that will be ruined without oaths? Is not the world + full of these deceptions? And are not lovers' oaths a jest of hundreds of + years' standing? And are not cautions against the perfidy of our sex a + necessary part of the female education? + </p> + <p> + I do intend to endeavour to overcome myself; but I must first try, if I + cannot overcome this lady. Have I not said, that the honour of her sex is + concerned that I should try? + </p> + <p> + Whenever thou meetest with a woman of but half her perfections, thou wilt + marry—Do, Jack. + </p> + <p> + Can a girl be degraded by trials, who is not overcome? + </p> + <p> + I am glad that thou takest crime to thyself, for not endeavouring to + convert the poor wretches whom others have ruined. I will not recriminate + upon thee, Belford, as I might, when thou flatterest thyself that thou + never ruinedst the morals of any young creature, who otherwise would not + have been corrupted—the palliating consolation of an Hottentot + heart, determined rather to gluttonize on the garbage of other foul + feeders than to reform.—But tell me, Jack, wouldst thou have spared + such a girl as my Rosebud, had I not, by my example, engaged thy + generosity? Nor was my Rosebud the only girl I spared:—When my power + was acknowledged, who more merciful than thy friend? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is resistance that inflames desire, + Sharpens the darts of love, and blows its fire. + Love is disarm'd that meets with too much ease; + He languishes, and does not care to please. +</pre> + <p> + The women know this as well as the men. They love to be addressed with + spirit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And therefore 'tis their golden fruit they guard + With so much care, to make profession hard. +</pre> + <p> + Whence, for a by-reflection, the ardent, the complaisant gallant is so + often preferred to the cold, the unadoring husband. And yet the sex do not + consider, that variety and novelty give the ardour and the obsequiousness; + and that, were the rake as much used to them as the husband is, he would + be [and is to his own wife, if married] as indifferent to their favours, + as their husbands are; and the husband, in his turn, would, to another + woman, be the rake. Let the women, upon the whole, take this lesson from a + Lovelace—'Always to endeavour to make themselves as new to a + husband, and to appear as elegant and as obliging to him, as they are + desirous to appear to a lover, and actually were to him as such; and then + the rake, which all women love, will last longer in the husband, than it + generally does.' + </p> + <p> + But to return:—If I have not sufficiently cleared my conduct to thee + in the above; I refer thee once more to mine of the 13th of last month.* + And pr'ythee, Jack, lay me not under a necessity to repeat the same things + so often. I hope thou readest what I write more than once. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. II. Letter XIV. + </p> + <p> + I am not displeased that thou art so apprehensive of my resentment, that I + cannot miss a day without making thee uneasy. Thy conscience, 'tis plain, + tells thee, that thou has deserved my displeasure: and if it has convinced + thee of that, it will make thee afraid of repeating thy fault. See that + this be the consequence. Else, now that thou hast told me how I can punish + thee, it is very likely that I do punish thee by my silence, although I + have as much pleasure in writing on this charming subject, as thou canst + have in reading what I write. + </p> + <p> + When a boy, if a dog ran away from me through fear, I generally looked + about for a stone, or a stick; and if neither offered to my hand, I + skinned my hat after him to make him afraid for something. What signifies + power, if we do not exert it? + </p> + <p> + Let my Lord know, that thou hast scribbled to me. But give him not the + contents of thy epistle. Though a parcel of crude stuff, he would think + there was something in it. Poor arguments will do, when brought in favour + of what we like. But the stupid peer little thinks that this lady is a + rebel to Love. On the contrary, not only he, but all the world believe her + to be a volunteer in his service.—So I shall incur blame, and she + will be pitied, if any thing happen amiss. + </p> + <p> + Since my Lord's heart is set upon this match, I have written already to + let him know, 'That my unhappy character had given my beloved an + ungenerous diffidence of me. That she is so mother-sick and father-fond, + that she had rather return to Harlowe-place than marry. That she is even + apprehensive that the step she has taken of going off with me will make + the ladies of a family of such rank and honour as ours think slightly of + her. That therefore I desire his Lordship (though this hint, I tell him, + must be very delicately touched) to write me such a letter as I can shew + her; (let him treat me in it ever so freely, I shall not take it amiss, I + tell him, because I know his Lordship takes pleasure in writing to me in a + corrective style). That he may make what offers he pleases on the + marriage. That I desire his presence at the ceremony; that I may take from + his hand the greatest blessing that mortal man can give me.' + </p> + <p> + I have not absolutely told the lady that I would write to his Lordship to + this effect; yet have given her reason to think I will. So that without + the last necessity I shall not produce the answer I expect from him: for I + am very loth, I own, to make use of any of my family's names for the + furthering of my designs. And yet I must make all secure, before I pull + off the mask. Was not this my motive for bringing her hither? + </p> + <p> + Thus thou seest that the old peer's letter came very seasonably. I thank + thee for that. But as to his sentences, they cannot possibly do me good. I + was early suffocated with his wisdom of nations. When a boy, I never asked + anything of him, but out flew a proverb; and if the tendency of that was + to deny me, I never could obtain the least favour. This gave me so great + an aversion to the very word, that, when a child, I made it a condition + with my tutor, who was an honest parson, that I would not read my Bible at + all, if he would not excuse me one of the wisest books in it: to which, + however, I had no other objection, than that it was called The Proverbs. + And as for Solomon, he was then a hated character with me, not because of + his polygamy, but because I had conceived him to be such another musty old + fellow as my uncle. + </p> + <p> + Well, but let us leave old saws to old me. What signifies thy tedious + whining over thy departing relation? Is it not generally agreed that he + cannot recover? Will it not be kind in thee to put him out of his misery? + I hear that he is pestered still with visits from doctors, and + apothecaries, and surgeons; that they cannot cut so deep as the + mortification has gone; and that in every visit, in every scarification, + inevitable death is pronounced upon him. Why then do they keep tormenting + him? Is it not to take away more of his living fleece than of his dead + flesh?—When a man is given over, the fee should surely be refused. + Are they not now robbing his heirs?—What has thou to do, if the will + be as thou'dst have it?—He sent for thee [did he not?] to close his + eyes. He is but an uncle, is he? + </p> + <p> + Let me see, if I mistake not, it is in the Bible, or some other good book: + can it be in Herodotus?—O I believe it is in Josephus, a half- + sacred, and half-profane author. He tells us of a king of Syria put out of + his pain by his prime minister, or one who deserved to be so for his + contrivance. The story says, if I am right, that he spread a wet cloth + over his face, which killing him, he reigned in his place. A notable + fellow! Perhaps this wet cloth in the original, is what we now call + laudanum; a potion that overspreads the faculties, as the wet cloth did + the face of the royal patient; and the translator knew not how to render + it. + </p> + <p> + But how like forlorn varlet thou subscribest, 'Thy melancholy friend, J. + BELFORD!' Melancholy! For what? To stand by, and see fair play between an + old man and death? I thought thou hadst been more of a man; that thou art + not afraid of an acute death, a sword's point, to be so plaugily hip'd at + the consequences of a chronical one!—What though the scarificators + work upon him day by day? It's only upon a caput mortuum: and pr'ythee go + to, to use the stylum veterum, and learn of the royal butchers; who, for + sport, (an hundred times worse men than thy Lovelace,) widow ten thousand + at a brush, and make twice as many fatherless—learn of them, I say, + how to support a single death. + </p> + <p> + But art thou sure, Jack, it is a mortification?—My uncle once gave + promises of such a root-and-branch distemper: but, alas! it turned to a + smart gout-fit; and I had the mortification instead of him.—I have + heard that bark, in proper doses, will arrest a mortification in its + progress, and at last cure it. Let thy uncle's surgeon know, that it is + worth more than his ears, if he prescribe one grain of the bark. + </p> + <p> + I wish my uncle had given me the opportunity of setting thee a better + example: thou shouldst have seen what a brave fellow I had been. And had I + had occasion to write, my conclusion would have been this: 'I hope the old + Trojan's happy. In that hope, I am so; and + </p> + <p> + 'Thy rejoicing friend, 'R. LOVELACE.' + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dwell not always, Jack, upon one subject. Let me have poor Belton's + story. The sooner the better. If I can be of service to him, tell + him he may command me either in purse or person. Yet the former with + a freer will than the latter; for how can I leave my goddess? But + I'll issue my commands to my other vassals to attend thy summons. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If ye want head, let me know. If not, my quota, on this occasion, is + money. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. SATURDAY, MAY 20. + </p> + <p> + Not one word will I reply to such an abandoned wretch, as thou hast shewn + thyself to be in thine of last night. I will leave the lady to the + protection of that Power who only can work miracles; and to her own + merits. Still I have hopes that these will save her. + </p> + <p> + I will proceed, as thou desirest, to poor Belton's case; and the rather, + as it has thrown me into such a train of thinking upon our past lives, our + present courses, and our future views, as may be of service to us both, if + I can give due weight to the reflections that arise from it. + </p> + <p> + The poor man made me a visit on Thursday, in this my melancholy + attendance. He began with complaints of his ill health and spirits, his + hectic cough, and his increased malady of spitting blood; and then led to + his story. + </p> + <p> + A confounded one it is; and which highly aggravates his other maladies: + for it has come out, that his Thomasine, (who, truly, would be new + christened, you know, that her name might be nearer in sound to the + christian name of the man whom she pretended to doat upon) has for many + years carried on an intrigue with a fellow who had been hostler to her + father (an innkeeper at Darking); of whom, at the expense of poor Belton, + she has made a gentleman; and managed it so, that having the art to make + herself his cashier, she has been unable to account for large sums, which + he thought forthcoming at demand, and had trusted to her custody, in order + to pay off a mortgage upon his parental estate in Kent, which his heart + has run upon leaving clear, but which now cannot be done, and will soon be + foreclosed. And yet she has so long passed for his wife, that he knows not + what to resolve upon about her; nor about the two boys he was so fond of, + supposing them to be his; whereas now he begins to doubt his share in + them. + </p> + <p> + So KEEPING don't do, Lovelace. 'Tis not the eligible wife. 'A man must + keep a woman, said the poor fellow to me, but not his estate!—Two + interests!—Then, my tottering fabric!' pointing to his emaciated + carcass. + </p> + <p> + We do well to value ourselves upon our liberty, or to speak more properly, + upon the liberties we take. We had need to run down matrimony as we do, + and to make that state the subject of our frothy jests; when we frequently + render ourselves (for this of Tom's is not a singular case) the dupes and + tools of women who generally govern us (by arts our wise heads penetrate + not) more absolutely than a wife would attempt to do. + </p> + <p> + Let us consider this point a little; and that upon our own principles, as + libertines, setting aside what is exacted from us by the laws of our + country, and its customs; which, nevertheless, we cannot get over, till we + have got over almost all moral obligations, as members of society. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, let us consider (we, who are in possession of estates + by legal descent) how we should have liked to have been such naked + destitute varlets, as we must have been, had our fathers been as wise as + ourselves; and despised matrimony as we do—and then let us ask + ourselves, If we ought not to have the same regard for our posterity, as + we are glad our fathers had for theirs? + </p> + <p> + But this, perhaps, is too moral a consideration.—To proceed + therefore to those considerations which will be more striking to us: How + can we reasonably expect economy or frugality (or anything indeed but riot + and waste) from creatures who have an interest, and must therefore have + views, different from our own? + </p> + <p> + They know the uncertain tenure (our fickle humours) by which they hold: + And is it to be wondered at, supposing them to be provident harlots, that + they should endeavour, if they have the power, to lay up against a rainy + day? or, if they have not the power, that they should squander all they + can come at, when they are sure of nothing but the present hour; and when + the life they live, and the sacrifices they have made, put conscience and + honour out of the question? + </p> + <p> + Whereas a wife, having the same family-interest with her husband, lies not + under either the same apprehensions or temptations; and has not broken + through (of necessity, at least, has not) those restraints which education + has fastened upon her: and if she makes a private purse, which we are told + by anti-matrimonialists, all wives love to do, and has children, it goes + all into the same family at the long-run. + </p> + <p> + Then as to the great article of fidelity to your bed—Are not women + of family, who are well-educated, under greater restraints, than + creatures, who, if they ever had reputation, sacrifice it to sordid + interest, or to more sordid appetite, the moment they give it up to you? + Does not the example you furnish, of having succeeded with her, give + encouragement for others to attempt her likewise? For with all her + blandishments, can any man be so credulous, or so vain, as to believe, + that the woman he could persuade, another may not prevail upon? + </p> + <p> + Adultery is so capital a guilt, that even rakes and libertines, if not + wholly abandoned, and as I may say, invited by a woman's levity, disavow + and condemn it: but here, in a state of KEEPING, a woman is in no danger + of incurring (legally, at least) that guilt; and you yourself have broken + through and overthrown in her all the fences and boundaries of moral + honesty, and the modesty and reserves of her sex: And what tie shall hold + her against inclination, or interest? And what shall deter an attempter? + </p> + <p> + While a husband has this security from legal sanctions, that if his wife + be detected in a criminal conversation with a man of fortune, (the most + likely by bribes to seduce her,) he may recover very great damages, and + procure a divorce besides: which, to say nothing of the ignominy, is a + consideration that must have some force upon both parties. And a wife must + be vicious indeed, and a reflection upon a man's own choice, who, for the + sake of change, and where there are no qualities to seduce, nor affluence + to corrupt, will run so many hazards to injure her husband in the + tenderest of all points. + </p> + <p> + But there are difficulties in procuring a divorce—[and so there + ought]— and none, says the rake, in parting with a mistress whenever + you suspect her; or whenever you are weary of her, and have a mind to + change her for another. + </p> + <p> + But must not the man be a brute indeed, who can cast off a woman whom he + has seduced, [if he take her from the town, that's another thing,] without + some flagrant reason; something that will better justify him to himself, + as well as to her, and to the world, than mere power and novelty? + </p> + <p> + But I don't see, if we judge by fact, and by the practice of all we have + been acquainted with of the keeping-class, that we know how to part with + them when we have them. + </p> + <p> + That we know we can if we will, is all we have for it: and this leads us + to bear many things from a mistress, which we would not from a wife. But, + if we are good-natured and humane: if the woman has art: [and what woman + wants it, who has fallen by art? and to whose precarious situation art is + so necessary?] if you have given her the credit of being called by your + name: if you have a settled place of abode, and have received and paid + visits in her company, as your wife: if she has brought you children + —you will allow that these are strong obligations upon you in the + world's eye, as well as to your own heart, against tearing yourself from + such close connections. She will stick to you as your skin: and it will be + next to flaying yourself to cast her off. + </p> + <p> + Even if there be cause for it, by infidelity, she will have managed ill, + if she have not her defenders. Nor did I ever know a cause or a person so + bad, as to want advocates, either from ill-will to the one, or pity to the + other: and you will then be thought a hard-hearted miscreant: and even + were she to go off without credit to herself, she will leave you as + little; especially with all those whose good opinion a man would wish to + cultivate. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, shall this poor privilege, that we may part with a woman if we + will, be deemed a balance for the other inconveniencies? Shall it be + thought by us, who are men of family and fortune, an equivalent for giving + up equality of degree; and taking for the partner of our bed, and very + probably more than the partner in our estates, (to the breach of all + family-rule and order,) a low-born, a low-educated creature, who has not + brought any thing into the common stock; and can possibly make no returns + for the solid benefits she receives, but those libidinous ones, which a + man cannot boast of, but to his disgrace, nor think of, but to the shame + of both? + </p> + <p> + Moreover, as the man advances in years, the fury of his libertinism will + go off. He will have different aims and pursuits, which will diminish his + appetite to ranging, and make such a regular life as the matrimonial and + family life, palatable to him, and every day more palatable. + </p> + <p> + If he has children, and has reason to think them his, and if his lewd + courses have left him any estate, he will have cause to regret the + restraint his boasted liberty has laid him under, and the valuable + privilege it has deprived him of; when he finds that it must descend to + some relation, for whom, whether near or distant, he cares not one + farthing; and who perhaps (if a man of virtue) has held him in the utmost + contempt for his dissolute life. + </p> + <p> + And were we to suppose his estate in his power to bequeath as he pleases; + why should a man resolve, for the gratifying of his foolish humour only, + to bastardize his race? Why should he wish to expose his children to the + scorn and insults of the rest of the world? Why should he, whether they + are sons or daughters, lay them under the necessity of complying with + proposals of marriage, either inferior as to fortune, or unequal as to + age? Why should he deprive the children he loves, who themselves may be + guilty of no fault, of the respect they would wish to have, and to + deserve; and of the opportunity of associating themselves with proper, + that is to say, with reputable company? and why should he make them think + themselves under obligation to every person of character, who will + vouchsafe to visit them? What little reason, in a word, would such + children have to bless their father's obstinate defiance of the laws and + customs of his country; and for giving them a mother, of whom they could + not think with honour; to whose crime it was that they owed their very + beings, and whose example it was their duty to shun? + </p> + <p> + If the education and morals of these children are left to chance, as too + generally they are, (for the man who has humanity and a feeling heart, and + who is capable of fondness for his offspring, I take it for granted will + marry,) the case is still worse; his crime is perpetuated, as I may say, + by his children: and the sea, the army, perhaps the highway, for the boys; + the common for the girls; too often point out the way to a worse + catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + What therefore, upon the whole, do we get by treading in these crooked + paths, but danger, disgrace, and a too-late repentance? + </p> + <p> + And after all, do we not frequently become the cullies of our own + libertinism; sliding into the very state with those half-worn-out doxies, + which perhaps we might have entered into with their ladies; at least with + their superiors both in degree and fortune? and all the time lived + handsomely like ourselves; not sneaking into holes and corners; and, when + we crept abroad with our women, looking about us, and at ever one that + passed us, as if we were confessedly accountable to the censures of all + honest people. + </p> + <p> + My cousin Tony Jenyns, thou knewest. He had not the actively mischievous + spirit, that thou, Belton, Mowbray, Tourville, and myself, have: but he + imbibed the same notions we do, and carried them into practice. + </p> + <p> + How did he prate against wedlock! how did he strut about as a wit and a + smart! and what a wit and a smart did all the boys and girls of our family + (myself among the rest, then an urchin) think him, for the airs he gave + himself?—Marry! No, not for the world; what man of sense would bear + the insolences, the petulances, the expensiveness of a wife! He could not + for the heart of him think it tolerable, that a woman of equal rank and + fortune, and, as it might happen, superior talents to his own, should look + upon herself to have a right to share the benefit of that fortune which + she brought him. + </p> + <p> + So, after he had fluttered about the town for two or three years, in all + which time he had a better opinion of himself than any body else had, what + does he do, but enter upon an affair with his fencing-master's daughter? + </p> + <p> + He succeeds; takes private lodgings for her at Hackney; visits her by + stealth; both of them tender of reputations that were extremely tender, + but which neither had quite given up; for rakes of either sex are always + the last to condemn or cry down themselves: visited by nobody, nor + visiting: the life of a thief, or of a man bested by creditors, afraid to + look out of his own house, or to be seen abroad with her. And thus went on + for twelve years, and, though he had a good estate, hardly making both + ends meet; for though no glare, there was no economy; and, beside, he had + ever year a child, and very fond of his children was he. But none of them + lived above three years. And being now, on the death of the dozenth, grown + as dully sober, as if he had been a real husband, his good Mrs. Thomas + (for he had not permitted her to take his own name) prevailed upon him to + think the loss of their children a judgment upon the parents for their + wicked way of life; [a time will come, Lovelace, if we live to advanced + years, in which reflection will take hold of the enfeebled mind;] and then + it was not difficult for his woman to induce him, by way of compounding + with Heaven, to marry her. When this was done, he had leisure to sit down, + and contemplate; an to recollect the many offers of persons of family and + fortune to which he had declined in the prime of life: his expenses equal + at least: his reputation not only less, but lost: his enjoyments stolen: + his partnership unequal, and such as he had always been ashamed of. But + the woman said, that after twelve or thirteen years' cohabitation, Tony + did an honest thing by her. And that was all my poor cousin got by making + his old mistress his new wife—not a drum, not a trumpet, not a fife, + not a tabret, nor the expectation of a new joy, to animate him on! + </p> + <p> + What Belton will do with his Thomasine I know not! nor care I to advise + him: for I see the poor fellow does not like that any body should curse + her but himself. This he does very heartily. And so low is he reduced, + that he blubbers over the reflection upon his past fondness for her cubs, + and upon his present doubts of their being his: 'What a damn'd thing is + it, Belford, if Tom and Hal should be the hostler dog's puppies and not + mine!' + </p> + <p> + Very true! and I think the strong health of the chubby-faced muscular + whelps confirms the too great probability. + </p> + <p> + But I say not so to him. + </p> + <p> + You, he says, are such a gay, lively mortal, that this sad tale would make + no impression upon you: especially now, that your whole heart is engaged + as it is. Mowbray would be too violent upon it: he has not, he says, a + feeling heart. Tourville has no discretion: and, a pretty jest! although + he and his Thomasine lived without reputation in the world, (people + guessing that they were not married, notwithstanding she went by his + name,) yet 'he would not too much discredit the cursed ingrate neither!' + </p> + <p> + Could a man act a weaker part, had he been really married; and were he + sure he was going to separate from the mother of his own children? + </p> + <p> + I leave this as a lesson upon thy heart, without making any application: + only with this remark, 'That after we libertines have indulged our + licentious appetites, reflecting, (in the conceit of our vain hearts,) + both with our lips and by our lives, upon our ancestors and the good old + ways, we find out, when we come to years of discretion, if we live till + then (what all who knew us found out before, that is to say, we found + out), our own despicable folly; that those good old ways would have been + best for us, as well as for the rest of the world; and that in every step + we have deviated from them we have only exposed our vanity and our + ignorance at the same time.' + </p> + <p> + J. BELFORD. <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SATURDAY, MAY 20. + </p> + <p> + I am pleased with the sober reflection with which thou concludest thy + last; and I thank thee for it. Poor Belton!—I did not think his + Thomasine would have proved so very a devil. But this must everlastingly + be the risk of a keeper, who takes up with a low-bred girl. This I never + did. Nor had I occasion to do it. Such a one as I, Jack, needed only, till + now, to shake the stateliest tree, and the mellowed fruit dropt into my + mouth:—always of Montaigne's taste thou knowest:—thought it a + glory to subdue a girl of family.—More truly delightful to me the + seduction- progress than the crowned act: for that's a vapour, a bubble! + and most cordially do I thank thee for thy indirect hint, that I am right + in my pursuit. + </p> + <p> + From such a woman as Miss Harlowe, a man is secured from all the + inconveniencies thou expatiatest upon. + </p> + <p> + Once more, therefore, do I thank thee, Belford, for thy approbation!—A + man need not, as thou sayest, sneak into holes and corners, and shun the + day, in the company of such a woman as this. How friendly in thee, thus to + abet the favourite purpose of my heart!—nor can it be a disgrace to + me, to permit such a lady to be called by my name!—nor shall I be at + all concerned about the world's censure, if I live to the years of + discretion, which thou mentionest, should I be taken in, and prevailed + upon to tread with her the good old path of my ancestors. + </p> + <p> + A blessing on thy heart, thou honest fellow! I thought thou wert in jest, + and but acquitting thyself of an engagement to Lord M. when thou wert + pleading for matrimony in behalf of this lady!—It could not be + principle, I knew, in thee: it could not be compassion—a little envy + indeed I suspected!—But now I see thee once more thyself: and once + more, say I, a blessing on thy heart, thou true friend, and very honest + fellow! + </p> + <p> + Now will I proceed with courage in all my schemes, and oblige thee with + the continued narrative of my progressions towards bringing them to + effect!—but I could not forbear to interrupt my story, to show my + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XL + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + And now will I favour thee with a brief account of our present situation. + </p> + <p> + From the highest to the lowest we are all extremely happy.—Dorcas + stands well in her lady's graces. Polly has asked her advice in relation + to a courtship-affair of her own. No oracle ever gave better. Sally has + had a quarrel with her woollen-draper; and made my charmer lady-chancellor + in it. She blamed Sally for behaving tyrannically to a man who loves her. + Dear creature! to stand against a glass, and to shut her eyes because she + will not see her face in it!—Mrs. Sinclair has paid her court to so + unerring a judge, by requesting her advice with regard to both nieces. + </p> + <p> + This the way we have been in for several days with the people below. Yet + sola generally at her meals, and seldom at other times in their company. + They now, used to her ways, [perseverance must conquer,] never press her; + so when they meet, all is civility on both sides. Even married people, I + believe, Jack, prevent abundance of quarrels, by seeing one another but + seldom. + </p> + <p> + But how stands it between thyself and the lady, methinks thou askest, + since her abrupt departure from thee, and undutiful repulse of Wednesday + morning? + </p> + <p> + Why, pretty well in the main. Nay, very well. For why? the dear saucy- + face knows not how to help herself. Can fly to no other protection. And + has, besides, overheard a conversation [who would have thought she had + been so near?] which passed between Mrs. Sinclair, Miss Martin, and + myself, that very Wednesday afternoon; which has set her heart at ease + with respect to several doubtful points. + </p> + <p> + Such as, particularly, 'Mrs. Fretchville's unhappy state of mind—most + humanely pitied by Miss Martin, who knows her very well—the husband + she has lost, and herself, (as Sally says,) lovers from their cradles. + Pity from one begets pity from another, be the occasion for it either + strong or weak; and so many circumstances were given to poor Mrs. + Fretchville's distress, that it was impossible but my beloved must + extremely pity her whom the less tender-hearted Miss Martin greatly + pitied. + </p> + <p> + 'My Lord M.'s gout his only hindrance from visiting my spouse. Lady Betty + and Miss Montague soon expected in town. + </p> + <p> + 'My earnest desire signified to have my spouse receive those ladies in her + own house, if Mrs. Fretchville would but know her own mind; and I + pathetically lamented the delay occasioned by her not knowing it. + </p> + <p> + 'My intention to stay at Mrs. Sinclair's, as I said I had told them + before, while my spouse resides in her own house, (when Mrs. Fretchville + could be brought to quit it,) in order to gratify her utmost punctilio. + </p> + <p> + 'My passion for my beloved (which, as I told them in a high and fervent + accent, was the truest that man could have for woman) I boasted of. It + was, in short, I said, of the true platonic kind; or I had no notion of + what platonic love was.' + </p> + <p> + So it is, Jack; and must end as platonic love generally does end. + </p> + <p> + 'Sally and Mrs. Sinclair next praised, but not grossly, my beloved. Sally + particularly admired her purity; called it exemplary; yet (to avoid + suspicion) expressed her thoughts that she was rather over-nice, if she + might presume to say so before me. But nevertheless she applauded me for + the strict observation I made of my vow. + </p> + <p> + 'I more freely blamed her reserves to me; called her cruel; inveighed + against her relations; doubted her love. Every favour I asked of her + denied me. Yet my behaviour to her as pure and delicate when alone, as + when before them. Hinted at something that had passed between us that very + day, that shewed her indifference to me in so strong a light, that I could + not bear it. But that I would ask her for her company to the play of + Venice Preserved, given out for Sunday night as a benefit-play; the prime + actors to be in it; and this, to see if I were to be denied every favour.—Yet, + for my own part, I loved not tragedies; though she did, for the sake of + the instruction, the warning, and the example generally given in them. + </p> + <p> + 'I had too much feeling, I said. There was enough in the world to make our + hearts sad, without carrying grief in our diversions, and making the + distresses of others our own.' + </p> + <p> + True enough, Belford; and I believe, generally speaking, that all the men + of our cast are of my mind—They love not any tragedies but those in + which they themselves act the parts of tyrants and executioners; and, + afraid to trust themselves with serious and solemn reflections, run to + comedies, in order to laugh away compunction on the distresses they have + occasioned, and to find examples of men as immoral as themselves. For very + few of our comic performances, as thou knowest, give us good ones.— + I answer, however, for myself—yet thou, I think, on recollection, + lovest to deal in the lamentable. + </p> + <p> + Sally answered for Polly, who was absent; Mrs. Sinclair for herself, and + for all her acquaintance, even for Miss Partington, in preferring the + comic to the tragic scenes.—And I believe they are right; for the + devil's in it, if a confided-in rake does not give a girl enough of + tragedy in his comedy. + </p> + <p> + 'I asked Sally to oblige my fair-one with her company. She was engaged, + [that was right, thou'lt suppose]. I asked Mrs. Sinclair's leave for + Polly. To be sure, she answered, Polly would think it an honour to attend + Mrs. Lovelace: but the poor thing was tender-hearted; and as the tragedy + was deep, would weep herself blind. + </p> + <p> + 'Sally, meantime, objected Singleton, that I might answer the objection, + and save my beloved the trouble of making it, or debating the point with + me; and on this occasion I regretted that her brother's projects were not + laid aside; since, if they had been given up, I would have gone in person + to bring up the ladies of my family to attend my spouse. + </p> + <p> + 'I then, from a letter just before received from one in her father's + family, warned them of a person who had undertaken to find us out, and + whom I thus in writing [having called for pen and ink] described, that + they might arm all the family against him—"A sun-burnt, pock-fretten + sailor, ill-looking, big-boned; his stature about six foot; an heavy eye, + an overhanging brow, a deck-treading stride in his walk; a couteau + generally by his side; lips parched from his gums, as if by staring at the + sun in hot climates; a brown coat; a coloured handkerchief about his neck; + an oaken plant in his hand near as long as himself, and proportionately + thick." + </p> + <p> + 'No questions asked by this fellow must be answered. They should call me + to him. But not let my beloved know a tittle of this, so long as it could + be helped. And I added, that if her brother or Singleton came, and if they + behaved civilly, I would, for her sake, be civil to them: and in this + case, she had nothing to do but to own her marriage, and there could be no + pretence for violence on either side. But most fervently I swore, that if + she was conveyed away, either by persuasion or force, I would directly, on + missing her but one day, go to demand her at Harlowe-place, whether she + were there or not; and if I recovered not a sister, I would have a + brother; and should find out a captain of a ship as well as he.' + </p> + <p> + And now, Jack, dost thou think she'll attempt to get from me, do what I + will? + </p> + <p> + 'Mrs. Sinclair began to be afraid of mischief in her house—I was + apprehensive that she would over-do the matter, and be out of character. I + therefore winked at her. She primed; nodded, to show she took me; twanged + out a high-ho through her nose, lapped one horse-lip over the other, and + was silent.' + </p> + <p> + Here's preparation, Belford!—Dost think I will throw it all away for + any thing thou canst say, or Lord M. write?—No, indeed—as my + charmer says, when she bridles. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And what must necessarily be the consequence of all this with regard to my + beloved's behaviour to me? Canst thou doubt, that it was all complaisance + next time she admitted me into her presence? + </p> + <p> + Thursday we were very happy. All the morning extremely happy. I kissed her + charming hand.—I need not describe to thee her hand and arm. When + thou sawest her, I took notice that thy eyes dwelt upon them whenever thou + couldst spare them from that beauty spot of wonders, her face—fifty + times kissed her hand, I believe—once her cheek, intending her lip, + but so rapturously, that she could not help seeming angry. + </p> + <p> + Had she not thus kept me at arms-length; had she not denied me those + innocent liberties which our sex, from step to step, aspire to; could I + but have gained access to her in her hours of heedlessness and dishabille, + [for full dress creates dignity, augments consciousness, and compels + distance;] we had familiarized to each other long ago. But keep her up + ever so late, meet her ever so early, by breakfast-time she is dressed for + the day, and at her earliest hour, as nice as others dressed. All her + forms thus kept up, wonder not that I have made so little progress in the + proposed trial.—But how must all this distance stimulate! + </p> + <p> + Thursday morning, as I said, we were extremely happy—about noon, she + numbered the hours she had been with me; all of them to be but as one + minute; and desired to be left to herself. I was loth to comply: but + observing the sun-shine began to shut in, I yielded. + </p> + <p> + I dined out. Returning, I talked of the house, and of Mrs. Fretchville— + had seen Mennell—had pressed him to get the widow to quit: she + pitied Mrs. Fretchville [another good effect of the overheard conversation]—had + written to Lord M., expected an answer soon from him. I was admitted to + sup with her. I urged for her approbation or correction of my written + terms. She again promised an answer as soon as she had heard from Miss + Howe. + </p> + <p> + Then I pressed for her company to the play on Saturday night. She made + objections, as I had foreseen: her brother's projects, warmth of the + weather, &c. But in such a manner, as if half afraid to disoblige me + [another happy effect of the overheard conversation]. I soon got over + these, therefore; and she consented to favour me. + </p> + <p> + Friday passed as the day before. + </p> + <p> + Here were two happy days to both. Why cannot I make every day equally + happy? It looks as if it were in my power to do so. Strange, I should thus + delight in teasing a woman I so dearly love! I must, I doubt, have + something in my temper like Miss Howe, who loves to plague the man who + puts himself in her power.—But I could not do thus by such an angel + as this, did I not believe that, after her probation time shall be + expired, and if she be not to be brought to cohabitation, (my darling + view,) I shall reward her as she wishes. + </p> + <p> + Saturday is half over. We are equally happy—preparing for the play. + Polly has offered her company, and is accepted. I have directed her where + to weep: and this not only to show her humanity, [a weeping eye indicates + a gentle heart,] but to have a pretence to hide her face with a fan or + handkerchief.—Yet Polly is far from being every man's girl; and we + shall sit in the gallery green-box. + </p> + <p> + The woes of others, so well represented as those of Belvidera particularly + will be, must, I hope, unlock and open my charmer's heart. Whenever I have + been able to prevail upon a girl to permit me to attend her to a play, I + have thought myself sure of her. The female heart (all gentleness and + harmony by nature) expands, and forgets its forms, when its attention is + carried out of itself at an agreeable or affecting entertainment—music, + and perhaps a collation afterwards, co-operating. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I have no hope of such an effect here; but I have more than one + end to answer by getting her to a play. To name but one.—Dorcas has + a master-key, as I have told thee.—But it were worth while to carry + her to the play of Venice Preserved, were it but to show her, that there + have been, and may be, much deeper distresses than she can possibly know. + </p> + <p> + Thus exceedingly happy are we at present. I hope we shall not find any of + Nat. Lee's left-handed gods at work, to dash our bowl of joy with + wormwood. + </p> + <p> + R. LOVELACE. <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, MAY 19. + </p> + <p> + I would not, if I could help it, be so continually brooding over the dark + and gloomy face of my condition [all nature, you know, my dear, and every + thing in it, has a bright and a gloomy side] as to be thought unable to + enjoy a more hopeful prospect. And this, not only for my own sake, but for + yours, who take such generous concern in all that befalls me. + </p> + <p> + Let me tell you then, my dear, that I have known four-and-twenty hours + together not unhappy ones, my situation considered. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[She then gives the particulars of the conversation which she had + overheard between Mr. Lovelace, Mrs. Sinclair, and Miss Martin; but + accounts more minutely than he had done for the opportunity she had of + overhearing it, unknown to them. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +She gives the reasons she has to be pleased with what she heard from + each: but is shocked at the measure he is resolved to take, if he + misses her but for one day. Yet is pleased that he proposes to avoid + aggressive violence, if her brother and he meet in town.] +</pre> + <p> + Even Dorcas, says she, appears less exceptionable to me than before; and I + cannot but pity her for her neglected education, as it is matter of so + much regret to herself: else, there would not be much in it; as the low + and illiterate are the most useful people in the common-wealth (since such + constitute the labouring part of the public); and as a lettered education + but too generally sets people above those servile offices by which the + businesses of the world is carried on. Nor have I any doubt but there are, + take the world through, twenty happy people among the unlettered, to one + among those who have had a school-education. + </p> + <p> + This, however, concludes not against learning or letters; since one would + wish to lift to some little distinction, and more genteel usefulness, + those who have capacity, and whose parentage one respects, or whose + services one would wish to reward. + </p> + <p> + Were my mind quite at ease, I could enlarge, perhaps not unusefully, upon + this subject; for I have considered it with as much attention as my years, + and little experience and observation, will permit. + </p> + <p> + But the extreme illiterateness and indocility of this maid are surprising, + considering that she wants not inquisitiveness, appears willing to learn, + and, in other respects, has quick parts. This confirms to me what I have + heard remarked, That there is a docible season, a learning-time, as I may + say, for every person, in which the mind may be led, step by step, from + the lower to the higher, (year by year,) to improvement. How industriously + ought these seasons, as they offer, to be taken hold of by tutors, + parents, and other friends, to whom the cultivation of the genius of + children and youth is committed; since, once elapsed, and no foundation + laid, they hardly ever return!—And yet it must be confessed, that + there are some geniuses, which, like some fruits, ripen not till late. And + industry and perseverance will do prodigious things—but for a + learner to have those first rudiments to master at twenty years of age, + suppose, which others are taught, and they themselves might have attained, + at ten, what an uphill labour! + </p> + <p> + These kind of observations you have always wished me to intersperse, as + they arise to my thoughts. But it is a sign that my prospects are a little + mended, or I should not, among so many more interesting ones that my mind + has been of late filled with, have had heart's ease enough to make them. + </p> + <p> + Let me give you my reflections on my more hopeful prospects. + </p> + <p> + I am now, in the first place, better able to account for the delays about + the house than I was before—Poor Mrs. Fretchville!—Though I + know her not, I pity her!—Next, it looks well, that he had apprized + the women (before this conversation with them), of his intention to stay + in this house, after I was removed to the other. By the tone of his voice + he seemed concerned for the appearance of this new delay would have with + me. + </p> + <p> + So handsomely did Miss Martin express herself of me, that I am sorry, + methinks, that I judged so hardly of her, when I first came hither—free + people may go a great way, but not all the way: and as such are generally + unguarded, precipitate, and thoughtless, the same quickness, + changeableness, and suddenness of spirit, as I may call it, may intervene + (if the heart be not corrupted) to recover them to thought and duty. + </p> + <p> + His reason for declining to go in person to bring up the ladies of his + family, while my brother and Singleton continue their machinations, + carries no bad face with it; and one may the rather allow for their + expectations, that so proud a spirit as his should attend them for this + purpose, as he speaks of them sometimes as persons of punctilio. + </p> + <p> + Other reasons I will mention for my being easier in my mind than I was + before I overheard this conversation. + </p> + <p> + Such as, the advice he had received in relation to Singleton's mate; which + agrees but too well with what you, my dear, wrote to me in your's of May + the 10th.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + His not intending to acquaint me with it. + </p> + <p> + His cautions to the servants about the sailor, if he should come and make + inquiries about us. + </p> + <p> + His resolution to avoid violence, were he to fall in either with my + brother, or this Singleton; and the easy method he has chalked out, in + this case, to prevent mischief; since I need only not to deny my being + his. But yet I should be driven into such a tacit acknowledgement to any + new persons, till I am so, although I have been led (so much against my + liking) to give countenance to the belief of the persons below that we are + married. + </p> + <p> + I think myself obliged, from what passed between Mr. Lovelace and me on + Wednesday, and from what I overheard him say, to consent to go with him to + the play; and the rather, as he had the discretion to propose one of the + nieces to accompany me. + </p> + <p> + I cannot but acknowledge that I am pleased to find that he has actually + written to Lord M. + </p> + <p> + I have promised to give Mr. Lovelace an answer to his proposals as soon as + I have heard from you, my dear, on the subject. + </p> + <p> + I hope that in my next letter I shall have reason to confirm these + favourable appearances. Favourable I must think them in the wreck I have + suffered. + </p> + <p> + I hope, that in the trial which you hint may happen between me and myself, + (as you* express it,) if he should so behave as to oblige me to leave him, + I shall be able to act in such a manner as to bring no discredit upon + myself in your eye; and that is all now that I have to wish for. But, if I + value him so much as you are pleased to suppose I do, the trial, which you + imagine will be so difficult to me, will not, I conceive, be upon getting + from him, when the means to affect my escape are lent me; but how I shall + behave when got from him; and if, like the Israelites of old, I shall be + so weak as to wish to return to my Egyptian bondage. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXXIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I think it will not be amiss, notwithstanding the present favourable + appearances, that you should perfect the scheme (whatever it be) which you + tell me* you have thought of, in order to procure for me an asylum, in + case of necessity. Mr. Lovelace is certainly a deep and dangerous man; and + it is therefore but prudence to be watchful, and to be provided against + the worst. Lord bless me, my dear, how I am reduced!—Could I ever + have thought to be in such a situation, as to be obliged to stay with a + man, of whose honour by me I could have but the shadow of a doubt! —But + I will look forward, and hope the best. + </p> + <p> + * Ibid. + </p> + <p> + I am certain that your letters are safe. Be perfectly easy, therefore, on + that head. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace will never be out of my company by his good will, otherwise I + have no doubt that I am mistress of my goings-out and comings-in; and did + I think it needful, and were I not afraid of my brother and Captain + Singleton, I would oftener put it to trial. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLII + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SATURDAY, MAY 20. + </p> + <p> + I did not know, my dear, that you deferred giving an answer to Mr. + Lovelace's proposals till you had my opinion of them. A particular hand, + occasionally going to town, will leave this at Wilson's, that no delay may + be made on that account. + </p> + <p> + I never had any doubt of the man's justice and generosity in matters of + settlement; and all his relations are as noble in their spirits as in + their descent; but now, it may not be amiss for you to wait, to see what + returns my Lord makes to his letter of invitation. + </p> + <p> + The scheme I think of is this: + </p> + <p> + There is a person, whom I believe you have seen with me, her name + Townsend, who is a great dealer in Indian silks, Brussels and French + laces, cambricks, linen, and other valuable goods; which she has a way of + coming at duty-free; and has a great vend for them (and for other + curiosities which she imports) in the private families of the gentry round + us. + </p> + <p> + She has her days of being in town, and then is at a chamber she rents at + an inn in Southwark, where she keeps patterns of all her silks, and much + of her portable goods, for the conveniency of her London customers. But + her place of residence, and where she has her principal warehouse, is at + Depford, for the opportunity of getting her goods on shore. + </p> + <p> + She was first brought to me by my mother, to whom she was recommended on + the supposal of my speedy marriage, 'that I might have an opportunity to + be as fine as a princess,' was my mother's expression, 'at a moderate + expense.' + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear, I must own, that I do not love to encourage these contraband + traders. What is it, but bidding defiance to the laws of our country, when + we do, and hurting fair traders; and at the same time robbing our prince + of his legal due, to the diminution of those duties which possibly must be + made good by new levities upon the public? + </p> + <p> + But, however, Mrs. Townsend and I, though I have not yet had dealings with + her, are upon a very good foot of understanding. She is a sensible woman; + she has been abroad, and often goes abroad in the way of her business, and + gives very entertaining accounts of all she has seen. + </p> + <p> + And having applied to me to recommend her to you, (as it is her view to be + known to young ladies who are likely to change their condition,) I am sure + I can engage her to give you protection at her house at Deptford; which + she says is a populous village, and one of the last, I should think, in + which you would be sought for. She is not much there, you will believe, by + the course of her dealings, but, no doubt, must have somebody on the spot, + in whom she can confide: and there, perhaps, you might be safe till your + cousin comes. And I should not think it amiss that you write to him out of + hand. I cannot suggest to you what you should write. That must be left to + your own discretion. For you will be afraid, no doubt, of the consequence + of a variance between the two men. + </p> + <p> + But, notwithstanding all this, and were I sure of getting you safely out + of his hands, I will nevertheless forgive you, were you to make all up + with him, and marry to-morrow. Yet I will proceed with my projected scheme + in relation to Mrs. Townsend; though I hope there will be no occasion to + prosecute it, since your prospects seem to be changed, and since you have + had twenty-four not unhappy hours together. How my indignation rises for + this poor consolation in the courtship [courtship must I call it?] of such + a woman! let me tell you, my dear, that were you once your own absolute + and independent mistress, I should be tempted, notwithstanding all I have + written, to wish you to be the wife of any man in the world, rather than + the wife either of Lovelace or of Solmes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Townsend, as I have recollected, has two brothers, each a master of a + vessel; and who knows, as she and they have concerns together, but that, + in case of need, you may have a whole ship's crew at your devotion? If + Lovelace give you cause to leave him, take no thought for the people at + Harlowe-place. Let them take care of one another. It is a care they are + used to. The law will help to secure them. The wretch is no assassin, no + night-murderer. He is an open, because a fearless enemy; and should he + attempt any thing that would make him obnoxious to the laws of society, + you might have a fair riddance of him, either by flight or the gallows; no + matter which. + </p> + <p> + Had you not been so minute in your account of the circumstances that + attended the opportunity you had of overhearing the dialogue between Mr. + Lovelace and two of the women, I should have thought the conference + contrived on purpose for your ear. + </p> + <p> + I showed Mr. Lovelace's proposals to Mr. Hickman, who had chambers once in + Lincoln's-inn, being designed for the law, had his elder brother lived. He + looked so wise, so proud, and so important, upon the occasion; and wanted + to take so much consideration about them—Would take them home if I + pleased—and weigh them well—and so forth—and the like—and + all that—that I had no patience with him, and snatched them back + with anger. + </p> + <p> + O dear!—to be so angry, an't please me, for his zeal!— + </p> + <p> + Yes, zeal without knowledge, I said—like most other zeals—if + there were no objections that struck him at once, there were none. + </p> + <p> + So hasty, dearest Madam— + </p> + <p> + And so slow, un-dearest Sir, I could have said—But SURELY, said I, + with a look that implied, Would you rebel, Sir! + </p> + <p> + He begged my pardon—Saw no objection, indeed!—But might he be + allowed once more— + </p> + <p> + No matter—no matter—I would have shown them to my mother, I + said, who, though of no inn of court, knew more of these things than half + the lounging lubbers of them; and that at first sight—only that she + would have been angry at the confession of our continued correspondence. + </p> + <p> + But, my dear, let the articles be drawn up, and engrossed; and solemnize + upon them; and there's no more to be said. + </p> + <p> + Let me add, that the sailor-fellow has been tampering with my Kitty, and + offered a bribe, to find where to direct to you. Next time he comes, I + will have him laid hold of; and if I can get nothing out of him, will have + him drawn through one of our deepest fishponds. His attempt to corrupt a + servant of mine will justify my orders. + </p> + <p> + I send this letter away directly. But will follow it by another; which + shall have for its subject only my mother, myself, and your uncle Antony. + And as your prospects are more promising than they have been, I will + endeavour to make you smile upon the occasion. For you will be pleased to + know, that my mother has had a formal tender from that grey goose, which + may make her skill in settlements useful to herself, were she to encourage + it. + </p> + <p> + May your prospects be still more and more happy, prays + </p> + <p> + Your own, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SAT. SUNDAY, MAY 20, 21. + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear, for the promised subject. You must not ask me how I came by + the originals [such they really are] that I am going to present you with: + for my mother would not read to me those parts of your uncle's letter + which bore hard upon myself, and which leave him without any title to + mercy from me: nor would she let me hear but what she pleased of her's in + answer; for she has condescended to answer him—with a denial, + however; but such a denial as no one but an old bachelor would take from a + widow. + </p> + <p> + Any body, except myself, who could have been acquainted with such a + fal-lal courtship as this must have been had it proceeded, would have been + glad it had gone on: and I dare say, but for the saucy daughter, it had. + My good mamma, in that case, would have been ten years the younger for it, + perhaps: and, could I but have approved of it, I should have been + considered by her as if ten years older than I am: since, very likely, it + would have been: 'We widows, my dear, know not how to keep men at a + distance—so as to give them pain, in order to try their love.—You + must advise me, child: you must teach me to be cruel—yet not too + cruel neither—so as to make a man heartless, who has no time, God + wot, to throw away.'—Then would my behaviour to Mr. Hickman have + been better liked; and my mother would have bridled like her daughter. + </p> + <p> + O my dear, how might we have been diverted by the practisings for the + recovery of the long forgottens! could I have been sure that it would have + been in my power to have put them asunder, in the Irish style, before they + had come together. But there's no trusting to the widow whose goods and + chattels are in her own hands, addressed by an old bachelor who has fine + things, and offers to leave her ten thousand pounds better than he found + her, and sole mistress, besides, of all her notables! for these, as you + will see by-and-by, are his proposals. + </p> + <p> + The old Triton's address carries the writer's marks upon the very + subscription—To the equally amiable and worthy admired [there's for + you!] Mrs. ANABELLA HOWE, widow, the last word added, I suppose as Esquire + to a man, as a word of honour; or for fear the bella to Anna, should not + enough distinguish the person meant from the spinster: [vain hussy you'll + call me, I know:] And then follows;—These humbly present. —Put + down as a memorandum, I presume, to make a leg, and behave handsomely at + presenting it, he intending, very probably, to deliver it himself. + </p> + <p> + And now stand by—to see + </p> + <p> + ENTER OLD NEPTUNE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +His head adorned with sea-weed, and a crown of cockle-shells; as we see + him decked out in Mrs. Robinson's grotto. +</pre> + <p> + MONDAY, MAY 15. MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I did make a sort of resolution ten years ago never to marry. I saw in + other families, where they lived best, you will be pleased to mark that, + queernesses I could not away with. Then liked well enough to live single + for the sake of my brother's family; and for one child in it more than the + rest. But that girl has turned us all off the hinges: and why should I + deny myself any comforts for them, as will not thank me for so doing, I + don't know. + </p> + <p> + So much for my motives as from self and family: but the dear Mrs. Howe + makes me go farther. + </p> + <p> + I have a very great fortune, I bless God for it, all of my own getting, or + most of it; you will be pleased to mark that; for I was the youngest + brother of three. You have also, God be thanked, a great estate, which you + have improved by your own frugality and wise management. Frugality, let me + stop to say, is one of the greatest virtues in this mortal life, because + it enables us to do justice to all, and puts it in our power to benefit + some by it, as we see they deserve. + </p> + <p> + You have but one child; and I am a bachelor, and have never a one—all + bachelors cannot say so: wherefore your daughter may be the better for me, + if she will keep up with my humour; which was never thought bad: + especially to my equals. Servants, indeed, I don't matter being angry + with, when I please; they are paid for bearing it, and too-too often + deserve it; as we have frequently taken notice of to one another. And, + moreover, if we keep not servants at distance, they will be familiar. I + always made it a rule to find fault, whether reasonable or not, that so I + might have no reason to find fault. Young women and servants in general + (as worthy Mr. Solmes observes) are better governed by fear than love. But + this my humour as to servants will not effect either you or Miss, you + know. + </p> + <p> + I will make very advantageous settlements; such as any common friend shall + judge to be so. But must have all in my own power, while I live: because, + you know, Madam, it is as creditable to the wife, as to the husband, that + it should be so. + </p> + <p> + I am not at fine words. We are not children; though it is hoped we may + have some; for I am a very healthy sound man. I bless God for it: and + never brought home from my voyages and travels a worser constitution than + I took out with me. I was none of those, I will assure you. But this I + will undertake, that, if you are the survivor, you shall be at the least + ten thousand pounds the better for me. What, in the contrary case, I shall + be the better for you, I leave to you, as you shall think my kindness to + you shall deserve. + </p> + <p> + But one thing, Madam, I shall be glad of, that Miss Howe might not live + with us then—[she need not know I write thus]—but go home to + Mr. Hickman, as she is upon the point of marriage, I hear: and if she + behaves dutifully, as she should do, to us both, she shall be the better; + for I said so before. + </p> + <p> + You shall manage all things, both mine and your own; for I know but little + of land-matters. All my opposition to you shall be out of love, when I + think you take too much upon you for your health. + </p> + <p> + It will be very pretty for you, I should think, to have a man of + experience, in a long winter's evening, to sit down by you, and tell you + stories of foreign parts, and the customs of the nations he has consorted + with. And I have fine curiosities of the Indian growth, such as ladies + love, and some that even my niece Clary, when she was good, never saw. + These, one by one, as you are kind to me, (which I make no question of, + because I shall be kind to you,) shall be all yours. Prettier + entertainment by much, than sitting with a too smartish daughter, + sometimes out of humour; and thwarting, and vexing, as daughters will, + (when women-grown especially, as I have heard you often observe;) and + thinking their parents old, without paying them the reverence due to + years; when, as in your case, I make no sort of doubt, they are young + enough to wipe their noses. You understand me, Madam. + </p> + <p> + As for me myself, it will be very happy, and I am delighted with the + thinking of it, to have, after a pleasant ride, or so, a lady of like + experience with myself to come home to, and but one interest betwixt us: + to reckon up our comings-in together; and what this day and this week has + produced—O how this will increase love!—most mightily will it + increase it!—and I believe I shall never love you enough, or be able + to show you all my love. + </p> + <p> + I hope, Madam, there need not be such maiden niceties and hangings-off, as + I may call them, between us, (for hanging-off sake,) as that you will deny + me a line or two to this proposal, written down, although you would not + answer me so readily when I spoke to you; your daughter being, I suppose, + hard by; for you looked round you, as if not willing to be overheard. So I + resolved to write: that my writing may stand as upon record for my upright + meaning; being none of your Lovelaces; you will mark that, Madam; but a + downright, true, honest, faithful Englishman. So hope you will not disdain + to write a line or two to this my proposal: and I shall look upon it as a + great honour, I will assure you, and be proud thereof. What can I say + more?—for you are your own mistress, as I am my own master: and you + shall always be your own mistress, be pleased to mark that; for so a lady + of your prudence and experience ought to be. + </p> + <p> + This is a long letter. But the subject requires it; because I would not + write twice where once would do. So would explain my sense and meaning at + one time. + </p> + <p> + I have had writing in my head two whole months very near; but hardly knew + how (being unpracticed in these matters) to begin to write. And now, good + lady, be favourable to + </p> + <p> + Your most humble lover, and obedient servant, ANT. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Here's a letter of courtship, my dear!—and let me subjoin to it, + that if now, or hereafter, I should treat this hideous lover, who is so + free with me to my mother, with asperity, and you should be disgusted at + it, I shall think you don't give me that preference in your love which you + have in mine. + </p> + <p> + And now, which shall I first give you; the answer of my good mamma; or the + dialogue that passed between the widow mother, and the pert daughter, upon + her letting the latter know that she had a love-letter? + </p> + <p> + I think you shall have the dialogue. But let me promise one thing; that if + you think me too free, you must not let it run in your head that I am + writing of your uncle, or of my mother; but of a couple of old lovers, no + matter whom. Reverence is too apt to be forgotten by children, where the + reverends forget first what belongs to their own characters. A grave + remark, and therefore at your service, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Well then, suppose my mamma, (after twice coming into my closet to me, and + as often going out, with very meaning features, and lips ready to burst + open, but still closed, as if by compulsion, a speech going off in a + slight cough, that never went near the lungs,) grown more resolute the + third time of entrance, and sitting down by me, thus begin: + </p> + <p> + Mother. I have a very serious matter to talk with you upon, Nancy, when + you are disposed to attend to matters within ourselves, and not let + matters without ourselves wholly engross you. + </p> + <p> + A good selve-ish speech!—But I thought that friendship, gratitude, + and humanity, were matters that ought to be deemed of the most intimate + concern to us. But not to dwell upon words. + </p> + <p> + Daughter. I am now disposed to attend to every thing my momma is disposed + to say to me. + </p> + <p> + M. Why then, child—why then, my dear—[and the good lady's face + looked so plump, so smooth, and so shining!]—I see you are all + attention, Nancy!—But don't be surprised!—don't be uneasy!—But + I have—I have— Where is it?—[and yet it lay next her + heart, never another near it—so no difficulty to have found it]—I + have a letter, my dear!—[And out from her bosom it came: but she + still held it in her hand]—I have a letter, child.—It is—it + is—it is from—from a gentleman, I assure you!— [lifting + up her head, and smiling.] + </p> + <p> + There is no delight to a daughter, thought I, in such surprises as seem to + be collecting. I will deprive my mother of the satisfaction of making a + gradual discovery. + </p> + <p> + D. From Mr. Antony Harlowe, I suppose, Madam? + </p> + <p> + M. [Lips drawn closer: eye raised] Why, my dear!—I cannot but own— + But how, I wonder, could you think of Mr. Anthony Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + D. How, Madam, could I think of any body else? + </p> + <p> + M. How could you think of any body else?—[angry, and drawing back + her face]. But do you know the subject, Nancy? + </p> + <p> + D. You have told it, Madam, by your manner of breaking it to me. But, + indeed, I question not that he had two motives in his visits—both + equally agreeable to me; for all that family love me dearly. + </p> + <p> + M. No love lost, if so, between you and them. But this [rising] is what I + get—so like your papa!—I never could open my heart to him! + </p> + <p> + D. Dear Madam, excuse me. Be so good as to open your heart to me.— I + don't love the Harlowes—but pray excuse me. + </p> + <p> + M. You have put me quite out with your forward temper! [angrily sitting + down again.] + </p> + <p> + D. I will be all patience and attention. May I be allowed to read his + letter? + </p> + <p> + M. I wanted to advise with you upon it.—But you are such a strange + creature!—you are always for answering one before one speaks! + </p> + <p> + D. You'll be so good as to forgive me, Madam.—But I thought every + body (he among the rest) knew that you had always declared against a + second marriage. + </p> + <p> + M. And so I have. But then it was in the mind I was in. Things may offer—— + </p> + <p> + I stared. + </p> + <p> + M. Nay, don't be surprised!—I don't intend—I don't intend— + </p> + <p> + D. Not, perhaps, in the mind you are in, Madam. + </p> + <p> + M. Pert creature! [rising again]——We shall quarrel, I see!—There's + no—— + </p> + <p> + D. Once more, dear Madam, I beg your excuse. I will attend in silence. + —Pray, Madam, sit down again—pray do [she sat down.]—May + I see the letter? + </p> + <p> + No; there are some things in it you won't like.—Your temper is + known, I find, to be unhappy. But nothing bad against you; intimations, on + the contrary, that you shall be the better for him, if you oblige him. + </p> + <p> + Not a living soul but the Harlowes, I said, thought me ill-tempered: and I + was contented that they should, who could do as they had done by the most + universally acknowledged sweetness in the world. + </p> + <p> + Here we broke out a little; but at last she read me some of the passages + in the letter. But not the most mightily ridiculous: yet I could hardly + keep my countenance neither, especially when she came to that passage + which mentions his sound health; and at which she stopped; she best knew + why—But soon resuming: + </p> + <p> + M. Well now, Nancy, tell me what you think of it. + </p> + <p> + D. Nay, pray, Madam, tell me what you think of it. + </p> + <p> + M. I expect to be answered by an answer; not by a question! You don't use + to be so shy to speak your mind. + </p> + <p> + D. Not when my mamma commands me to do so. + </p> + <p> + M. Then speak it now. + </p> + <p> + D. Without hearing the whole of the letter? + </p> + <p> + M. Speak to what you have heard. + </p> + <p> + D. Why then, Madam——you won't be my mamma HOWE, if you give + way to it. + </p> + <p> + M. I am surprised at your assurance, Nancy! + </p> + <p> + D. I mean, Madam, you will then be my mamma Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + M. O dear heart!—But I am not a fool. + </p> + <p> + And her colour went and came. + </p> + <p> + D. Dear Madam, [but, indeed, I don't love a Harlowe—that's what I + mean,] I am your child, and must be your child, do what you will. + </p> + <p> + M. A very pert one, I am sure, as ever mother bore! And you must be my + child, do what I will!—as much as to say, you would not, if you + could help it, if I— + </p> + <p> + D. How could I have such a thought!—It would be forward, indeed, if + I had—when I don't know what your mind is as to the proposal:—when + the proposal is so very advantageous a one too. + </p> + <p> + M. [Looking a little less discomposed] why, indeed, ten thousand pounds—— + </p> + <p> + D. And to be sure of outliving him, Madam! + </p> + <p> + M. Sure!—nobody can be sure—but it is very likely that—— + </p> + <p> + D. Not at all, Madam. You was going to read something (but stopped) about + his constitution: his sobriety is well known—Why, Madam, these + gentlemen who have used the sea, and been in different climates, and come + home to relax from cares in a temperate one, and are sober—are the + likeliest to live long of any men in the world. Don't you see that his + very skin is a fortification of buff? + </p> + <p> + M. Strange creature! + </p> + <p> + D. God forbid, that any body I love and honour should marry a man in hopes + to bury him—but suppose, Madam, at your time of life—— + </p> + <p> + M. My time of life?—Dear heart!—What is my time of life, pray? + </p> + <p> + D. Not old, Madam; and that you are not, may be your danger! + </p> + <p> + As I hope to live (my dear) my mother smiled, and looked not displeased + with me. + </p> + <p> + M. Why, indeed, child—why, indeed, I must needs say—and then I + should choose to do nothing (forward as you are sometimes) to hurt you. + </p> + <p> + D. Why, as to that, Madam, I can't expect that you should deprive yourself + of any satisfaction— + </p> + <p> + M. Satisfaction, my dear!—I don't say it would be a satisfaction—but + could I do any thing that would benefit you, it would perhaps be an + inducement to hold one conference upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + D. My fortune already will be more considerable than my match, if I am to + have Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + M. Why so?—Mr. Hickman has fortune enough to entitle him to your's. + </p> + <p> + D. If you think so, that's enough. + </p> + <p> + M. Not but I should think the worse of myself, if I desired anybody's + death; but I think, as you say, Mr. Antony Harlowe is a healthy man, and + bids fair for a long life. + </p> + <p> + Bless me, thought I, how shall I do to know whether this be an objection + or a recommendation! + </p> + <p> + D. Will you forgive me, Madam? + </p> + <p> + M. What would the girl say? [looking as if she was half afraid to hear + what.] + </p> + <p> + D. Only, that if you marry a man of his time of life, you stand two + chances instead of one, to be a nurse at your time of life. + </p> + <p> + M. Saucebox! + </p> + <p> + D. Dear Madam!—What I mean is only that these healthy old men + sometimes fall into lingering disorders all at once. And I humbly + conceive, that the infirmities of age are uneasily borne with, where the + remembrance of the pleasanter season comes not in to relieve the healthier + of the two. + </p> + <p> + M. A strange girl!—Yet his healthy constitution an objection just + now! —-But I have always told you, that you know either too much to + be argued with, or too little for me to have patience with you. + </p> + <p> + D. I can't but say, I should be glad of your commands, Madam, how to + behave myself to Mr. Antony Harlowe next time he comes. + </p> + <p> + M. How to behave yourself!—Why, if you retire with contempt of him, + when he comes next, it will be but as you have been used to do of late. + </p> + <p> + D. Then he is to come again, Madam? + </p> + <p> + M. And suppose he be? + </p> + <p> + D. I can't help it, if it be your pleasure, Madam. He desires a line in + answer to his fine letter. If he come, it will be in pursuance of that + line, I presume? + </p> + <p> + M. None of your arch and pert leers, girl!—You know I won't bear + them. I had a mind to hear what you would say to this matter. I have not + written; but I shall presently. + </p> + <p> + D. It is mighty good of you, Madam, (I hope the man will think so,) to + answer his first application by letter.—Pity he should write twice, + if once will do. + </p> + <p> + M. That fetch won't let you into my intention as to what I shall write. It + is too saucily put. + </p> + <p> + D. Perhaps I can guess at your intention, Madam, were it to become me so + to do. + </p> + <p> + M. Perhaps I would not make Mr. Hickman of any man; using him the worse + for respecting me. + </p> + <p> + D. Nor, perhaps, would I, Madam, if I liked his respects. + </p> + <p> + M. I understand you. But, perhaps, it is in your power to make me hearken, + or not, to Mr. Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + D. Young men, who have probably a good deal of time before them need not + be in haste for a wife. Mr. Hickman, poor man! must stay his time, or take + his remedy. + </p> + <p> + M. He bears more from you than a man ought. + </p> + <p> + D. Then, I doubt, he gives a reason for the treatment he meets with. + </p> + <p> + M. Provoking creature! + </p> + <p> + D. I have but one request to make to you, Madam. + </p> + <p> + M. A dutiful one, I suppose. What is it, pray? + </p> + <p> + D. That if you marry, I may be permitted to live single. + </p> + <p> + M. Perverse creature, I'm sure! + </p> + <p> + D. How can I expect, Madam, that you should refuse such terms? Ten + thousand pounds!—At the least ten thousand pounds!—A very + handsome proposal!—So many fine things too, to give you one by one!—Dearest + Madam, forgive me!—I hope it is not yet so far gone, that rallying + this man will be thought want of duty to you. + </p> + <p> + M. Your rallying of him, and your reverence to me, it is plain, have one + source. + </p> + <p> + D. I hope not, Madam. But ten thousand pounds—— + </p> + <p> + M. Is no unhandsome proposal. + </p> + <p> + D. Indeed I think so. I hope, Madam, you will not be behind-hand with him + in generosity. + </p> + <p> + M. He won't be ten thousand pounds the better for me, if he survive me. + </p> + <p> + D. No, Madam; he can't expect that, as you have a daughter, and as he is a + bachelor, and has not a child!—Poor old soul! + </p> + <p> + M. Old soul, Nancy!—And thus to call him for being a bachelor, not + having a child!—Does this become you? + </p> + <p> + D. Not old soul for that, Madam—but half the sum; five thousand + pounds; you can't engage for less, Madam. + </p> + <p> + M. That sum has your approbation then? [Looking as if she'd be even with + me]. + </p> + <p> + D. As he leaves it to your generosity, Madam, to reward his kindness to + you, it can't be less.—Do, dear Madam, permit me, without incurring + your displeasure, to call him poor old soul again. + </p> + <p> + M. Never was such a whimsical creature!—[turning away to hide her + involuntary smile, for I believe I looked very archly; at least I intended + to do so]—I hate that wicked sly look. You give yourself very free + airs—don't you? + </p> + <p> + D. I snatched her hand, and kissed it—My dear Mamma, be not angry + with your girl!—You have told me, that you was very lively formerly. + </p> + <p> + M. Formerly! Good lack!—But were I to encourage his proposals, you + may be sure, that for Mr. Hickman's sake, as well as your's, I should make + a wise agreement. + </p> + <p> + D. You have both lived to years of prudence, Madam. + </p> + <p> + M. Yes, I suppose I am an old soul too. + </p> + <p> + D. He also is for making a wise agreement, or hinting at one, at least. + </p> + <p> + M. Well, the short and the long I suppose is this: I have not your consent + to marry. + </p> + <p> + D. Indeed, Madam, you have not my wishes to marry. + </p> + <p> + M. Let me tell you, that if prudence consists in wishing well to one's + self, I see not but the young flirts are as prudent as the old souls. + </p> + <p> + D. Dear Madam, would you blame me, if to wish you not to marry Mr. Antony + Harlowe, is to wish well to myself? + </p> + <p> + M. You are mighty witty. I wish you were as dutiful. + </p> + <p> + D. I am more dutiful, I hope, than witty; or I should be a fool as well as + a saucebox. + </p> + <p> + M. Let me be judge of both—Parents are only to live for their + children, let them deserve it or not. That's their dutiful notion! + </p> + <p> + D. Heaven forbid that I should wish, if there be two interests between my + mother and me, that my mother postpone her own for mine!—or give up + any thing that would add to the real comforts of her life to oblige me!— + Tell me, my dear Mamma, if you think the closing with this proposal will? + </p> + <p> + M. I say, that ten thousand pounds is such an acquisition to one's family, + that the offer of it deserves a civil return. + </p> + <p> + D. Not the offer, Madam: the chance only!—if indeed you have a view + to an increase of family, the money may provide— + </p> + <p> + M. You can't keep within tolerable bounds!—That saucy fleer I cannot + away with— + </p> + <p> + D. Dearest, dearest Madam, forgive me; but old soul ran in my head again!—Nay, + indeed, and upon my word, I will not be robbed of that charming smile! And + again I kissed her hand. + </p> + <p> + M. Away, bold creature! Nothing can be so provoking as to be made to smile + when one would choose, and ought, to be angry. + </p> + <p> + D. But, dear Madam, if it be to be, I presume you won't think of it before + next winter. + </p> + <p> + M. What now would the pert one be at? + </p> + <p> + D. Because he only proposes to entertain you with pretty stories of + foreign nations in a winter's evening.—Dearest, dearest Madam, let + me have all the reading of his letter through. I will forgive him all he + says about me. + </p> + <p> + M. It may be a very difficult thing, perhaps, for a man of the best sense + to write a love-letter that may not be cavilled at. + </p> + <p> + D. That's because lovers in their letters hit not the medium. They either + write too much nonsense, or too little. But do you call this odd soul's + letter [no more will I call him old soul, if I can help it] a love-letter? + </p> + <p> + M. Well, well, I see you are averse to this matter. I am not to be your + mother; you will live single, if I marry. I had a mind to see if + generosity govern you in your views. I shall pursue my own inclinations; + and if they should happen to be suitable to yours, pray let me for the + future be better rewarded by you than hitherto I have been. + </p> + <p> + And away she flung, without staying for a reply.—Vexed, I dare say, + that I did not better approve of the proposal—were it only that the + merit of denying might have been all her own, and to lay the stronger + obligation upon her saucy daughter. + </p> + <p> + She wrote such a widow-like refusal when she went from me, as might not + exclude hope in any other wooer; whatever it may do in Mr. Tony Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + It will be my part, to take care to beat her off the visit she half- + promises to make him (as you will see in her answer) upon condition that + he will withdraw his suit. For who knows what effect the old bachelor's + exotics [far-fetched and dear-bought you know is a proverb] might + otherwise have upon a woman's mind, wanting nothing but unnecessaries, + gewgaws, and fineries, and offered such as are not easily to be met with, + or purchased? + </p> + <p> + Well, but now I give you leave to read here, in this place, the copy of my + mother's answer to your uncle's letter. Not one comment will I make upon + it. I know my duty better. And here, therefore, taking the liberty to + hope, that I may, in your present less disagreeable, though not wholly + agreeable situation, provoke a smile from you, I conclude myself, + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and faithful, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + MRS. ANNABELLA HOWE, TO ANTONY HARLY, ESQ. + </p> + <p> + MR. ANTONY HARLOWE, FRIDAY, MAY 19. + </p> + <p> + SIR, + </p> + <p> + It is not usual I believe for our sex to answer by pen and ink the first + letter on these occasions. The first letter! How odd is that! As if I + expected another; which I do not. But then I think, as I do not judge + proper to encourage your proposal, there is no reason why I should not + answer in civility, where so great a civility is intended. Indeed, I was + always of opinion that a person was entitled to that, and not to ill + usage, because he had a respect for me. And so I have often and often told + my daughter. + </p> + <p> + A woman I think makes but a poor figure in a man's eye afterwards, and + does no reputation to her sex neither, when she behaves like a tyrant to + him beforehand. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Sir, if I were to change my condition, I know not a gentleman + whose proposal could be more agreeable. Your nephew and your nieces have + enough without you: my daughter has a fine fortune without me, and I + should take care to double it, living or dying, were I to do such a thing: + so nobody need to be the worse for it. But Nancy would not think so. + </p> + <p> + All the comfort I know of in children, is, that when young they do with us + what they will, and all is pretty in them to their very faults; and when + they are grown up, they think their parents must live for them only; and + deny themselves every thing for their sakes. I know Nancy could not bear a + father-in-law. She would fly at the very thought of my being in earnest to + give her one. Not that I stand in fear of my daughter neither. It is not + fit I should. But she has her poor papa's spirit. A very violent one that + was. And one would not choose, you know, Sir, to enter into any affair, + that, one knows, one must renounce a daughter for, or she a mother—except + indeed one's heart were much in it; which, I bless God, mine is not. + </p> + <p> + I have now been a widow these ten years; nobody to controul me: and I am + said not to bear controul: so, Sir, you and I are best as we are, I + believe: nay, I am sure of it: for we want not what either has; having + both more than we know what to do with. And I know I could not be in the + least accountable for any of my ways. + </p> + <p> + My daughter indeed, though she is a fine girl, as girls go, (she has too + much sense indeed for one of her sex, and knows she has it,) is more a + check to me than one would wish a daughter to be: for who would choose to + be always snapping at each other? But she will soon be married; and then, + not living together, we shall only come together when we are pleased, and + stay away when we are not; and so, like other lovers, never see any thing + but the best sides of each other. + </p> + <p> + I own, for all this, that I love her dearly; and she me, I dare say: so + would not wish to provoke her to do otherwise. Besides, the girl is so + much regarded every where, that having lived so much of my prime a widow, + I would not lay myself open to her censures, or even to her indifference, + you know. + </p> + <p> + Your generous proposal requires all this explicitness. I thank you for + your good opinion of me. When I know you acquiesce with this my civil + refusal [and indeed, Sir, I am as much in earnest in it, as if I had + spoken broader] I don't know but Nancy and I may, with your permission, + come to see your fine things; for I am a great admirer of rarities that + come from abroad. + </p> + <p> + So, Sir, let us only converse occasionally as we meet, as we used to do, + without any other view to each other than good wishes: which I hope may + not be lessened for this declining. And then I shall always think myself + </p> + <p> + Your obliged servant, ANNABELLA HOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +P.S. I sent word by Mrs. Lorimer, that I would write an answer: but + would take time for consideration. So hope, Sir, you won't think it a + slight, I did not write sooner. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY, MAY 21. + </p> + <p> + I am too much disturbed in my mind to think of any thing but revenge; or I + did intend to give thee an account of Miss Harlowe's observations on the + play. Miss Harlowe's I say. Thou knowest that I hate the name of Harlowe; + and I am exceedingly out of humour with her, and with her saucy friend. + </p> + <p> + What's the matter now? thou'lt ask. + </p> + <p> + Matter enough; for while we were at the play, Dorcas, who had her orders, + and a key to her lady's chamber, as well as a master-key to her drawers + and mahogany chest, closet-key and all, found means to come at some of + Miss Howe's last-written letters. The vigilant wench was directed to them + by seeing her lady take a letter out of her stays, and put it to the + others, before she went out with me—afraid, as the women + upbraidingly tell me, that I should find it there. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas no sooner found them, than she assembled three ready writers of the + non-apparents; and Sally, and she, and they employed themselves with the + utmost diligence, in making extracts, according to former directions, from + these cursed letters, for my use. Cursed, may I well call them— Such + abuses!—Such virulence!—O this little fury Miss Howe!—Well + might her saucy friend (who has been equally free with me, or the occasion + could not have been given) be so violent as she lately was, at my + endeavouring to come at one of these letters. + </p> + <p> + I was sure, that this fair-one, at so early an age, with a constitution so + firm, health so blooming, eyes so sparkling, expectations therefore so + lively, and hope so predominating, could not be absolutely, and from her + own vigilance, so guarded, and so apprehensive, as I have found her to be. + </p> + <p> + Sparkling eyes, Jack, when the poetical tribe have said all they can for + them, are an infallible sign of a rogue, or room for a rogue, in the + heart. + </p> + <p> + Thou mayest go on with thy preachments, and Lord M. with his wisdom of + nations, I am now more assured of her than ever. And now my revenge is up, + and joined with my love, all resistance must fall before it. And most + solemnly do I swear, that Miss Howe shall come in for her snack. + </p> + <p> + And here, just now, is another letter brought from the same little + virulent devil. I hope to procure scripts from that too, very speedily, if + it be put to the test; for the saucy fair-one is resolved to go to church + this morning; no so much from a spirit of devotion, I have reason to + think, as to try whether she can go out without check, controul, or my + attention. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have been denied breakfasting with her. Indeed she was a little + displeased with me last night: because, on our return from the play, I + obliged her to pass the rest of the night with the women and me, in their + parlour, and to stay till near one. She told me at parting, that she + expected to have the whole next day to herself. I had not read the + extracts then; so I had resolved to begin a new course, and, if possible, + to banish all jealousy and suspicion from her heart: and yet I had no + reason to be much troubled at her past suspicions; since, if a woman will + continue with a man whom she suspects, when she can get from him, or + thinks she can, I am sure it is a very hopeful sign. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + She is gone. Slipt down before I was aware. She had ordered a chair, on + purpose to exclude my personal attendance. But I had taken proper + precautions. Will. attended her by consent; Peter, the house-servant, was + within Will.'s call. + </p> + <p> + I had, by Dorcas, represented her danger from Singleton, in order to + dissuade her from going at all, unless she allowed me to attend her; but I + was answered, with her usual saucy smartness, that if there were no cause + of fear of being met with at the playhouse, when there were but two + playhouses, surely there was less at church, when there were so many + churches. The chairmen were ordered to carry her to St. James's Church. + </p> + <p> + But she would not be so careless of obliging me, if she knew what I have + already come at, and how the women urge me on; for they are continually + complaining of the restraint they lie under in their behaviour; in their + attendance; neglecting all their concerns in the front house; and keeping + this elegant back one entirely free from company, that she may have no + suspicion of them. They doubt not my generosity, they say: But why for my + own sake, in Lord M.'s style, should I make so long a harvest of so little + corn? + </p> + <p> + Women, ye reason well. I think I will begin my operations the moment she + comes in. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have come at the letter brought her from Miss Howe to-day. Plot, + conjuration, sorcery, witchcraft, all going forward! I shall not be able + to see this Miss Harlowe with patience. As the nymphs below ask, so do I, + Why is night necessary? And Sally and Polly upbraidingly remind me of my + first attempts upon themselves. Yet force answers not my end—and yet + it may, if there be truth in that part of the libertine's creed, That once + subdued, is always subdued! And what woman answers affirmatively to the + question? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + She is returned: But refuses to admit me: and insists upon having the day + to herself. Dorcas tells me, that she believes her denial is from motives + of piety.—Oons, Jack, is there impiety in seeing me?—Would it + not be the highest act of piety to reclaim me? And is this to be done by + her refusing to see me when she is in a devouter frame than usual?—But + I hate her, hate her heartily! She is old, ugly, and deformed.—But O + the blasphemy! yet she is a Harlowe: and I do and can hate her for that. + </p> + <p> + But since I must not see her, [she will be mistress of her own will, and + of her time, truly!] let me fill up my time, by telling thee what I have + come at. + </p> + <p> + The first letter the women met with, is dated April 27.* Where can she + have put the preceding ones!—It mentions Mr. Hickman as a busy + fellow between them. Hickman had best take care of himself. She says in + it, 'I hope you have no cause to repent returning my Norris—it is + forthcoming on demand.' Now, what the devil can this mean!—Her + Norris forthcoming on demand!—the devil take me, if I am + out-Norris'd!—If such innocents can allow themselves to plot (to + Norris), well may I. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter II. + </p> + <p> + She is sorry, that 'her Hannah can't be with her.'—And what if she + could?—What could Hannah do for her in such a house as this? + </p> + <p> + 'The women in the house are to be found out in one breakfasting.' The + women are enraged at both the correspondents for this; and more than ever + make a point of my subduing her. I had a good mind to give Miss Howe to + them in full property. Say but the word, Jack, and it shall be done. + </p> + <p> + 'She is glad that Miss Harlowe had thoughts of taking me at my word. She + wondered I did not offer again.' Advises her, if I don't soon, 'not to + stay with me.' Cautions her, 'to keep me at a distance; not to permit the + least familiarity.'—See, Jack! see Belford!—Exactly as I + thought!— Her vigilance all owing to a cool friend; who can sit down + quietly, and give that advice, which in her own case she could not take. + What an encouragement to me to proceed in my devices, when I have reason + to think that my beloved's reserves are owing more to Miss Howe's cautions + than to her own inclinations! But 'it is my interest to be honest,' Miss + Howe tells her.—INTEREST, fools!—I thought these girls knew, + that my interest was ever subservient to my pleasure. + </p> + <p> + What would I give to come at the copies of the letters to which those of + Miss Howe are answers! + </p> + <p> + The next letter is dated May 3.* In this the little termagant expresses + her astonishment, that her mother should write to Miss Harlowe, to forbid + her to correspond with her daughter. Mr. Hickman, she says, is of opinion, + 'that she ought not to obey her mother.' How the creeping fellow trims + between both! I am afraid, that I must punish him, as well as this virago; + and I have a scheme rumbling in my head, that wants but half an hour's + musing to bring into form, that will do my business upon both. I cannot + bear, that the parental authority should be thus despised, thus trampled + under foot. But observe the vixen, ''Tis well he is of her opinion; for + her mother having set her up, she must have somebody to quarrel with.'—Could + a Lovelace have allowed himself a greater license? This girl's a devilish + rake in her heart. Had she been a man, and one of us, she'd have outdone + us all in enterprise and spirit. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter X. + </p> + <p> + 'She wants but very little farther provocation,' she says, 'to fly + privately to London. And if she does, she will not leave her till she sees + her either honourably married, or quit of the wretch.' Here, Jack, the + transcriber Sally has added a prayer—'For the Lord's sake, dear Mr. + Lovealce, get this fury to London!'—Her fate, I can tell thee, Jack, + if we had her among us, should not be so long deciding as her friend's. + What a gantelope would she run, when I had done with her, among a dozen of + her own pitiless sex, whom my charmer shall never see!—But more of + this anon. + </p> + <p> + I find by this letter, that my saucy captive has been drawing the + characters of every varlet of ye. Nor am I spared in it more than you. + 'The man's a fool, to be sure, my dear.' Let me perish, if they either of + them find me one!—'A silly fellow, at least.' Cursed contemptible!— + 'I see not but they are a set of infernals!' There's one for thee, + Lovelace! and yet she would have her friend marry a Beelzebub.—And + what have any of us done, (within the knowledge of Miss Harlowe,) that she + should give such an account of us, as should excuse so much abuse from + Miss Howe!—But the occasion that shall warrant this abuse is to + come! + </p> + <p> + She blames her, for 'not admitting Miss Partington to her bed—watchful, + as you are, what could have happened?—If violence were intended, he + would not stay for the night.' I am ashamed to have this hinted to me by + this virago. Sally writes upon this hint—'See, Sir, what is expected + from you. An hundred, and an hundred times have we told you of this.'— + And so they have. But to be sure, the advice from them was not half the + efficacy as it will be from Miss Howe.—'You might have sat up after + her, or not gone to bed,' proceeds she. + </p> + <p> + But can there be such apprehensions between them, yet the one advise her + to stay, and the other resolve to wait my imperial motion for marriage? I + am glad I know that. + </p> + <p> + She approves of my proposal of Mrs. Fretchville's house. She puts her upon + expecting settlements; upon naming a day: and concludes with insisting + upon her writing, notwithstanding her mother's prohibitions; or bids her + 'take the consequence.' Undutiful wretches! How I long to vindicate + against them both the insulted parental character! + </p> + <p> + Thou wilt say to thyself, by this time, And can this proud and insolent + girl be the same Miss Howe, who sighed for an honest Sir George Colmar; + and who, but for this her beloved friend, would have followed him in all + his broken fortunes, when he was obliged to quit the kingdom? + </p> + <p> + Yes, she is the very same. And I always found in others, as well as in + myself, that a first passion thoroughly subdued, made the conqueror of it + a rover; the conqueress a tyrant. + </p> + <p> + Well, but now comes mincing in a letter, from one who has 'the honour of + dear Miss Howe's commands'* to acquaint Miss Harlowe, that Miss Howe is + 'excessively concerned for the concern she has given her.' + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XII. + </p> + <p> + 'I have great temptations, on this occasion,' says the prim Gothamite, 'to + express my own resentments upon your present state.' + </p> + <p> + 'My own resentments!'——And why did he not fall into this + temptation? —Why, truly, because he knew not what that state was + which gave him so tempting a subject—only by a conjecture, and so + forth. + </p> + <p> + He then dances in his style, as he does in his gait! To be sure, to be + sure, he must have made the grand tour, and come home by way of Tipperary. + </p> + <p> + 'And being moreover forbid,' says the prancer, 'to enter into the cruel + subject.'—This prohibition was a mercy to thee, friend Hickman!—But + why cruel subject, if thou knowest not what it is, but conjecturest only + from the disturbance it gives to a girl, that is her mother's disturbance, + will be thy disturbance, and the disturbance, in turn, of every body with + whom she is intimately acquainted, unless I have the humbling of her? + </p> + <p> + In another letter,* the little fury professes, 'that she will write, and + that no man shall write for her,' as if some medium of that kind had been + proposed. She approves of her fair friend's intention 'to leave me, if she + can be received by her relations. I am a wretch, a foolish wretch. She + hates me for my teasing ways. She has just made an acquaintance with one + who knows a vast deal of my private history.' A curse upon her, and upon + her historiographer!—'The man is really a villain, an execrable + one.' Devil take her!—'Had I a dozen lives, I might have forfeited + them all twenty crimes ago.' An odd way of reckoning, Jack! + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Miss Betterton, Miss Lockyer, are named—the man, (she irreverently + repeats) she again calls a villain. Let me perish, I repeat, if I am + called a villain for nothing!—She 'will have her uncle,' as Miss + Harlowe requests, 'sounded about receiving her. Dorcas is to be attached + to her interest: my letters are to be come at by surprise or trick'— + </p> + <p> + What thinkest thou of this, Jack? + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe is alarmed at my attempt to come at a letter of hers. + </p> + <p> + 'Were I to come at the knowledge of her freedoms with my character,' she + says, 'she should be afraid to stir out without a guard.' I would advise + the vixen to get her guard ready. + </p> + <p> + 'I am at the head of a gang of wretches,' [thee, Jack, and thy brother + varlets, she owns she means,] 'who join together to betray innocent + creatures, and to support one another in their villanies.'—What + sayest thou to this, Belford? + </p> + <p> + 'She wonders not at her melancholy reflections for meeting me, for being + forced upon me, and tricked by me.'—I hope, Jack, thou'lt have done + preaching after this! + </p> + <p> + But she comforts her, 'that she will be both a warning and an example to + all her sex.' I hope the sex will thank me for this! + </p> + <p> + The nymphs had not time, they say, to transcribe all that was worthy of my + resentment in this letter: so I must find an opportunity to come at it + myself. Noble rant, they say, it contains—But I am a seducer, and a + hundred vile fellows, in it.—'And the devil, it seems, took + possession of my heart, and of the hearts of all her friends, in the same + dark hour, in order to provoke her to meet me.' Again, 'There is a fate in + her error,' she says—Why then should she grieve?—'Adversity is + her shining time,' and I can't tell what; yet never to thank the man to + whom she owes the shine! + </p> + <p> + In the next letter,* wicked as I am, 'she fears I must be her lord and + master.' + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I hope so. + </p> + <p> + She retracts what she said against me in her last.—My behaviour to + my Rosebud; Miss Harlowe to take possession of Mrs. Fretchville's house; I + to stay at Mrs. Sinclair's; the stake I have in my country; my reversions; + my economy; my person; my address; [something like in all this!] are + brought in my favour, to induce her now not to leave me. How do I love to + puzzle these long-sighted girls! + </p> + <p> + Yet 'my teasing ways,' it seems, 'are intolerable.'—Are women only + to tease, I trow? The sex may thank themselves for teaching me to + out-tease them. So the headstrong Charles XII. of Sweden taught the Czar + Peter to beat him, by continuing a war with the Muscovites against the + ancient maxims of his kingdom. + </p> + <p> + 'May eternal vengeance PURSUE the villain, [thank heaven, she does not say + overtake,] if he give room to doubt his honour!'—Women can't swear, + Jack—sweet souls! they can only curse. + </p> + <p> + I am said, to doubt her love—Have I not reason? And she, to doubt my + ardour—Ardour, Jack!—why, 'tis very right—women, as Miss + Howe says, and as every rake knows, love ardours! + </p> + <p> + She apprizes her, of the 'ill success of the application made to her + uncle.'—By Hickman no doubt!—I must have this fellow's ears in + my pocket, very quickly I believe. + </p> + <p> + She says, 'she is equally shocked and enraged against all her family: Mrs. + Norton's weight has been tried upon Mrs. Harlowe, as well as Mr. Hickman's + upon the uncle: but never were there,' says the vixen, 'such determined + brutes in the world. Her uncle concludes her ruined already.' Is not that + a call upon me, as well as a reproach?—'They all expected + applications from her when in distress—but were resolved not to stir + an inch to save her life.' Miss Howe 'is concerned,' she tells her, 'for + the revenge my pride may put me upon taking for the distance she has kept + me at'—and well she may.—It is now evident to her, that she + must be mine (for her cousin Morden, it seems, is set against her too)—an + act of necessity, of convenience!—thy friend, Jack, to be already + made a woman's convenience! Is this to be borne by a Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + I shall make great use of this letter. From Miss Howe's hints of what + passed between her uncle Harlowe and Hickman, [it must be Hickman,] I can + give room for my invention to play; for she tells her, that 'she will not + reveal all.' I must endeavour to come at this letter myself. I must have + the very words: extracts will not do. This letter, when I have it, must be + my compass to steer by. + </p> + <p> + The fire of friendship then blazes and crackles. I never before imagined + that so fervent a friendship could subsist between two sister-beauties, + both toasts. But even here it may be inflamed by opposition, and by that + contradiction which gives vigour to female spirits of a warm and romantic + turn. + </p> + <p> + She raves about 'coming up, if by doing so she could prevent so noble a + creature from stooping too low, or save her from ruin.'—One reed to + support another! I think I will contrive to bring her up. + </p> + <p> + How comes it to pass, that I cannot help being pleased with this virago's + spirit, though I suffer by it? Had I her but here, I'd engage, in a week's + time, to teach her submission without reserve. What pleasure should I have + in breaking such a spirit! I should wish for her but for one month, I + think. She would be too tame and spiritless for me after that. How sweetly + pretty to see the two lovely friends, when humbled and tame, both sitting + in the darkest corner of a room, arm in arm, weeping and sobbing for each + other!—and I their emperor, their then acknowledged emperor, + reclined at my ease in the same room, uncertain to which I should first, + grand signor like, throw out my handkerchief! + </p> + <p> + Again mind the girl: 'She is enraged at the Harlowes;' she is 'angry at + her own mother;' she is exasperated against her foolish and low-vanity'd + Lovelace.' FOOLISH, a little toad! [God forgive me for calling such a + virtuous girl a toad!]—'Let us stoop to lift the wretch out of his + dirt, though we soil our fingers in doing it! He has not been guilty of + direct indecency to you.' It seems extraordinary to Miss Howe that I have + not. —'Nor dare he!' She should be sure of that. If women have such + things in their heads, why should not I in my heart? Not so much of a + devil as that comes to neither. Such villainous intentions would have + shown themselves before now if I had them.—Lord help them!— + </p> + <p> + She then puts her friend upon urging for settlements, license, and so + forth.—'No room for delicacy now,' she says; and tells her what she + shall say, 'to bring all forward from me.' Is it not as clear to thee, + Jack, as it is to me, that I should have carried my point long ago, but + for this vixen?—She reproaches her for having MODESTY'D away, as she + calls it, more than one opportunity, that she ought not to have slipt.— + Thus thou seest, that the noblest of the sex mean nothing in the world by + their shyness and distance, but to pound the poor fellow they dislike not, + when he comes into their purlieus. + </p> + <p> + Though 'tricked into this man's power,' she tells her, she is 'not meanly + subjugated to it.' There are hopes of my reformation, it seems, 'from my + reverence for her; since before her I never had any reverence for what was + good!' I am 'a great, a specious deceiver.' I thank her for this, however. + A good moral use, she says, may be made of my 'having prevailed upon her + to swerve.' I am glad that any good may flow from my actions. + </p> + <p> + Annexed to this letter is a paper the most saucy that ever was written of + a mother by a daughter. There are in it such free reflections upon widows + and bachelors, that I cannot but wonder how Miss Howe came by her + learning. Sir George Colmar, I can tell thee, was a greater fool than thy + friend, if she had it all for nothing. + </p> + <p> + The contents of this paper acquaint Miss Harlowe, that her uncle Antony + has been making proposals of marriage to her mother. + </p> + <p> + The old fellow's heart ought to be a tough one, if he succeed; or she who + broke that of a much worthier man, the late Mr. Howe, will soon get rid of + him. + </p> + <p> + But be this as it may, the stupid family is made more irreconcilable than + ever to their goddess-daughter for old Antony's thoughts of marrying: so I + am more secure of her than ever. And yet I believe at last, that my tender + heart will be moved in her favour. For I did not wish that she should have + nothing but persecution and distress.—But why loves she the brutes, + as Miss Howe justly calls them, so much; me so little? + </p> + <p> + I have still more unpardonable transcripts from other letters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLV + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + The next letter is of such a nature, that, I dare say, these proud rouges + would not have had it fall into my hands for the world.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXXIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I see by it to what her displeasure with me, in relation to my proposals, + was owing. They were not summed up, it seems, with the warmth, with the + ardour, which she had expected. + </p> + <p> + This whole letter was transcribed by Dorcas, to whose lot it fell. Thou + shalt have copies of them all at full length shortly. + </p> + <p> + 'Men of our cast,' this little devil says, 'she fancies, cannot have the + ardours that honest men have.' Miss Howe has very pretty fancies, Jack. + Charming girl! Would to Heaven I knew whether my fair-one answers her as + freely as she writes! 'Twould vex a man's heart, that this virago should + have come honestly by her fancies. + </p> + <p> + Who knows but I may have half a dozen creatures to get off my hands, + before I engage for life?—Yet, lest this should mean me a + compliment, as if I would reform, she adds her belief, that she 'must not + expect me to be honest on this side my grand climacteric.' She has an high + opinion of her sex, to think they can charm so long a man so well + acquainted with their identicalness. + </p> + <p> + 'He to suggest delays,' she says, 'from a compliment to be made to Lord + M.!'—Yes, I, my dear.—Because a man has not been accustomed to + be dutiful, must he never be dutiful?—In so important a case as this + too! the hearts of his whole family are engaged in it!—'You did, + indeed,' says she, 'want an interposing friend—but were I to have + been in your situation, I would have torn his eyes out, and left it to his + heart to furnish the reason for it.' See! See! What sayest thou to this, + Jack? + </p> + <p> + 'Villain—fellow that he is!' follow. And for what? Only for wishing + that the next day were to be my happy one; and for being dutiful to my + nearest relation. + </p> + <p> + 'It is the cruelest of fates,' she says, 'for a woman to be forced to have + a man whom her heart despises.'—That is what I wanted to be sure of.—I + was afraid, that my beloved was too conscious of her talents; of her + superiority! I was afraid that she indeed despises me.—And I cannot + bear to think that she does. But, Belford, I do not intend that this lady + shall be bound down to so cruel a fate. Let me perish if I marry a woman + who has given her most intimate friend reason to say, she despises me!—A + Lovelace to be despised, Jack! + </p> + <p> + 'His clenched fist to his forehead on your leaving him in just + displeasure'—that is, when she was not satisfied with my ardours, if + it please ye!—I remember the motion: but her back was towards me at + the time.* Are these watchful ladies all eye?—But observe what + follows; 'I wish it had been a poll-axe, and in the hands of his worst + enemy.'— + </p> + <p> + * She tells Miss Howe, that she saw this motion in the pier-glass. See + Letter XXXIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I will have patience, Jack; I will have patience! My day is at hand.— + Then will I steel my heart with these remembrances. + </p> + <p> + But here is a scheme to be thought of, in order to 'get my fair prize out + of my hands, in case I give her reason to suspect me.' + </p> + <p> + This indeed alarms me. Now the contention becomes arduous. Now wilt thou + not wonder, if I let loose my plotting genius upon them both. I will not + be out-Norris'd, Belford. + </p> + <p> + But once more, 'She has no notion,' she says, 'that I can or dare to mean + her dishonour. But then the man is a fool—that's all.'—I + should indeed be a fool, to proceed as I do, and mean matrimony!—'However, + since you are thrown upon a fool,' says she, 'marry the fool at the first + opportunity; and though I doubt that this man will be the most + unmanageable of fools, as all witty and vain fools are, take him as a + punishment, since you cannot as a reward.'—Is there any bearing + this, Belford? + </p> + <p> + But, 'such men as myself, are the men that women do not naturally hate.' + —True as the gospel, Jack!—The truth is out at last. Have I + not always told thee so? Sweet creatures and true christians these young + girls! They love their enemies. But rakes in their hearts all of them! + Like turns to like; that's the thing. Were I not well assured of the truth + of this observation of the vixen, I should have thought it worth while, if + not to be a good man, to be more of an hypocrite, than I found it needful + to be. + </p> + <p> + But in the letter I came at to-day, while she was at church, her scheme is + further opened; and a cursed one it is. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Lovelace then transcribes, from his short-hand notes, that part of + Miss Howe's letter, which relates to the design of engaging Mrs. + Townsend (in case of necessity) to give her protection till Colonel + Morden come:* and repeats his vows of revenge; especially for these + words; 'That should he attempt any thing that would make him obnoxious + to the laws of society, she might have a fair riddance of him, either + by flight or the gallows, no matter which.' He then adds]— +</pre> + <p> + * See Letter XLII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis my pride to subdue girls who know too much to doubt their knowledge; + and to convince them, that they know too little, to defend themselves from + the inconveniencies of knowing too much. + </p> + <p> + How passion drives a man on! (proceeds he).—I have written a + prodigious quantity in a very few hours! Now my resentments are warm, I + will see, and perhaps will punish, this proud, this double-armed beauty. I + have sent to tell her, that I must be admitted to sup with her. We have + neither of us dined. She refused to drink tea in the afternoon: and I + believe neither of us will have much stomach to our supper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY MORNING, SEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I was at the play last night with Mr. Lovelace and Miss Horton. It is, you + know, a deep and most affecting tragedy in the reading. You have my + remarks upon it, in the little book you made me write upon the principal + acting-plays. You will not wonder, that Miss Horton, as well as I, was + greatly moved at the representation, when I tell you, and have some + pleasure in telling you, that Mr. Lovelace himself was very sensibly + touched with some of the most affecting scenes. I mention this in praise + of the author's performance; for I take Mr. Lovelace to be one of the most + hard-hearted men in the world. Upon my word, my dear, I do. + </p> + <p> + His behaviour, however, on this occasion, and on our return, was + unexceptionable; only that he would oblige me to stay to supper with the + women below, when we came back, and to sit up with him and them till near + one o'clock this morning. I was resolved to be even with him; and indeed I + am not very sorry to have the pretence; for I love to pass the Sundays by + myself. + </p> + <p> + To have the better excuse to avoid his teasing, I am ready dressed to go + to church this morning. I will go only to St. James's church, and in a + chair; that I may be sure I can go out and come in when I please, without + being intruded upon by him, as I was twice before. + </p> + <p> + *** NEAR NINE O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I have your kind letter of yesterday. He knows I have. And I shall expect, + that he will be inquisitive next time I see him after your opinions of his + proposals. I doubted not your approbation of them, and had written an + answer on that presumption; which is ready for him. He must study for + occasions of procrastination, and to disoblige me, if now any thing + happens to set us at variance again. + </p> + <p> + He is very importunate to see me. He has desired to attend me to church. + He is angry that I have declined to breakfast with him. I am sure that I + should not have been at my own liberty if I had. I bid Dorcas tell him, + that I desired to have this day to myself. I would see him in the morning + as early as he pleased. She says, she knows not what ails him, but that he + is out of humour with every body. + </p> + <p> + He has sent again in a peremptory manner. He warns me of Singleton. I sent + him word, that if he was not afraid of Singleton at the playhouse last + night, I need not at church to-day: so many churches to one playhouse. I + have accepted of his servant's proposed attendance. But he is quite + displeased, it seems. I don't care. I will not be perpetually at his + insolent beck.—Adieu my dear, till I return. The chair waits. He + won't stop me, sure, as I go down to it. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I did not see him as I went down. He is, it seems, excessively out of + humour. Dorcas says, not with me neither, she believes: but something has + vexed him. This is perhaps to make me dine with him. But I will not, if I + can help it. I shan't get rid of him for the rest of the day, if I do. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + He was very earnest to dine with me. But I was resolved to carry this one + small point; and so denied to dine myself. And indeed I was endeavouring + to write to my cousin Morden; and had begun three different times, without + being able to please myself. + </p> + <p> + He was very busy in writing, Dorcas says; and pursued it without dining, + because I denied him my company. + </p> + <p> + He afterwards demanded, as I may say, to be admitted to afternoon-tea with + me: and appealed by Dorcas to his behaviour to me last night; as if I sent + him word by her, he thought he had a merit in being unexceptionable. + However, I repeated my promise to meet him as early as he pleased in the + morning, or to breakfast with him. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas says, he raved: I heard him loud, and I heard his servant fly from + him, as I thought. You, my dearest friend, say, in one of yours,* that you + must have somebody to be angry at, when your mother sets you up. I should + be very loth to draw comparisons; but the workings of passion, when + indulged, are but too much alike, whether in man or woman. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter X. of this volume, Parag. 2. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + He has just sent me word, that he insists upon supping with me. As we had + been in a good train for several days past, I thought it not prudent to + break with him for little matters. Yet, to be, in a manner, threatened + into his will, I know not how to bear that. + </p> + <p> + While I was considering, he came up, and, tapping at my door, told me, in + a very angry tone, he must see me this night. He could not rest, till he + had been told what he had done to deserve the treatment I gave him. + </p> + <p> + Treatment I gave him! a wretch! Yet perhaps he has nothing new to say to + me. I shall be very angry with him. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[As the Lady could not know what Mr. Lovelace's designs were, nor the + cause of his ill humour, it will not be improper to pursue the subject + from his letter. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Having described his angry manner of demanding, in person, her company at + supper, he proceeds as follows:] +</pre> + <p> + ''Tis hard, answered the fair perverse, that I am to be so little my own + mistress. I will meet you in the dining-room half an hour hence. + </p> + <p> + 'I went down to wait the half hour. All the women set me hard to give her + cause for this tyranny. They demonstrated, as well from the nature of the + sex, as of the case, that I had nothing to hope for from my tameness, and + could meet with no worse treatment, were I to be guilty of the last + offence. They urge me vehemently to try at least what effect some greater + familiarities than I had ever taken with her would have: and their + arguments being strengthened by my just resentments on the discoveries I + had made, I was resolved to take some liberties, as they were received, to + take still greater, and lay all the fault upon her tyranny. In this humour + I went up, and never had paralytic so little command of his joints, as I + had, while I walked about the dining-room, attending her motions. + </p> + <p> + 'With an erect mien she entered, her face averted, her lovely bosom + swelling, and the more charmingly protuberant for the erectness of her + mien. O Jack! that sullenness and reserve should add to the charms of this + haughty maid! but in every attitude, in every humour, in every gesture, is + beauty beautiful. By her averted face, and indignant aspect, I saw the + dear insolent was disposed to be angry—but by the fierceness of + mine, as my trembling hand seized hers, I soon made fear her predominant + passion. And yet the moment I beheld her, my heart was dastardized; and my + reverence for the virgin purity, so visible in her whole deportment, again + took place. Surely, Belford, this is an angel. And yet, had she not been + known to be a female, they would not from babyhood have dressed her as + such, nor would she, but upon that conviction, have continued the dress. + </p> + <p> + 'Let me ask you, Madam, I beseech you tell me, what I have done to deserve + this distant treatment? + </p> + <p> + 'And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, why are my retirements to be thus + invaded?—What can you have to say to me since last night, that I + went with you so much against my will to the play? and after sitting up + with you, equally against my will, till a very late hour? + </p> + <p> + 'This I have to say, Madam, that I cannot bear to be kept at this distance + from you under the same roof. + </p> + <p> + 'Under the same roof, Sir!—How came you—— + </p> + <p> + 'Hear me out, Madam—[letting go her trembling hands, and snatching + them back again with an eagerness that made her start]—I have a + thousand things to say, to talk of, relating to our present and future + prospects; but when I want to open my whole soul to you, you are always + contriving to keep me at a distance. You make me inconsistent with myself. + Your heart is set upon delays. You must have views that you will not own. + Tell me, Madam, I conjure you to tell me, this moment, without subterfuge + or reserve, in what light am I to appear to you in future? I cannot bear + this distance. The suspense you hold me in I cannot bear. + </p> + <p> + 'In what light, Mr. Lovelace! [visibly terrified.] In no bad light, I + hope.—Pray, Mr. Lovelace, do not grasp my hands so hard + [endeavouring to withdraw them.] Pray let me go.— + </p> + <p> + 'You hate me, Madam— + </p> + <p> + 'I hate nobody, Sir— + </p> + <p> + 'You hate me, Madam, repeated I. + </p> + <p> + 'Instigated and resolved, as I came up, I wanted some new provocation. The + devil indeed, as soon as my angel made her appearance, crept out of my + heart; but he had left the door open, and was no farther off than my + elbow. + </p> + <p> + 'You come up in no good temper, I see, Mr. Lovelace.—But pray be not + violent—I have done you no hurt.—Pray be not violent— + </p> + <p> + 'Sweet creature! and I clasped one arm about her, holding one hand in my + other.—You have done me no hurt.—I could have devoured her—but + restraining myself—You have done me the greatest hurt!—In what + have I deserved the distance you keep me at?—I knew not what to say. + </p> + <p> + 'She struggled to disengage herself.—Pray, Mr. Lovelace, let me + withdraw. I know not why this is. I know not what I have done to offend + you. I see you are come with a design to quarrel with me. If you would not + terrify me by the ill humour you are in, permit me to withdraw. I will + hear all you have to say another time—to-morrow morning, as I sent + you word.—But indeed you frighten me—I beseech you, if you + have any value for me, permit me to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + 'Night, mid-night, is necessary, Belford. Surprise, terror, must be + necessary to the ultimate trial of this charming creature, say the women + below what they will. I could not hold my purposes. This was not the first + time that I had intended to try if she could forgive. + </p> + <p> + 'I kissed her hand with a fervour, as if I would have left my lips upon + it.—Withdraw, then, dearest, and ever-dear creature. Indeed I + entered in a very ill humour. I cannot bear the distance at which you so + causelessly keep me. Withdraw, Madam, since it is your will to withdraw; + and judge me generously; judge me but as I deserve to be judged; and let + me hope to meet you to-morrow morning early in such a temper as becomes + our present situation, and my future hopes. + </p> + <p> + 'And so saying, I conducted her to the door, and left her there. But, + instead of going down to the women, I went into my own chamber, and locked + myself in; ashamed of being awed by her majestic loveliness, and + apprehensive virtue, into so great a change of purpose, notwithstanding I + had such just provocations from the letters of her saucy friend, formed on + her own representations of facts and situations between herself and me. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[The Lady (dated Sunday night) thus describes her terrors, and Mr. + Lovelace's behaviour, on the occasion.] +</pre> + <p> + On my entering the dining-room, he took my hand in his, in such a humour, + I saw plainly he was resolved to quarrel with me—And for what?—What + had I done to him?—I never in my life beheld in any body such wild, + such angry, such impatient airs. I was terrified; and instead of being as + angry as I intended to be, I was forced to be all mildness. I can hardly + remember what were his first words, I was so frighted. But you hate me, + Madam! you hate me, Madam! were some of them—with such a fierceness—I + wished myself a thousand miles distant from him. I hate nobody, said I: I + thank God I hate nobody—You terrify me, Mr. Lovelace—let me + leave you.—The man, my dear, looked quite ugly—I never saw a + man look so ugly as passion made him look—and for what?—And so + he grasped my hands!— fierce creature;—he so grasped my hands! + In short, he seemed by his looks, and by his words (once putting his arms + about me) to wish me to provoke him. So that I had nothing to do but to + beg of him (which I did repeatedly) to permit me to withdraw: and to + promise to meet him at his own time in the morning. + </p> + <p> + It was with a very ill grace that he complied, on that condition; and at + parting he kissed my hand with such a savageness, that a redness remains + upon it still. + </p> + <p> + Do you not think, my dear, that I have reason to be incensed at him, my + situation considered? Am I not under a necessity, as it were, of + quarrelling with him; at least every other time I see him? No prudery, no + coquetry, no tyranny in my heart, or in my behaviour to him, that I know + of. No affected procrastination. Aiming at nothing but decorum. He as much + concerned, and so he ought to think, as I, to have that observed. Too much + in his power: cast upon him by the cruelty of my relations. No other + protection to fly to but his. One plain path before us; yet such + embarrasses, such difficulties, such subjects for doubt, for cavil, for + uneasiness; as fast as one is obviated, another to be introduced, and not + by myself—know not how introduced—What pleasure can I propose + to myself in meeting such a wretch? + </p> + <p> + Perfect for me, my dearest Miss Howe, perfect for me, I beseech you, your + kind scheme with Mrs. Townsend; and I will then leave this man. + </p> + <p> + My temper, I believe, is changed. No wonder if it be. I question whether + ever it will be what it was. But I cannot make him half so uneasy by the + change, as I am myself. See you not how, from step to step, he grows upon + me?—I tremble to look back upon his encroachments. And now to give + me cause to apprehend more evil from him, than indignation will permit me + to express!—O my dear, perfect your scheme, and let me fly from so + strange a wretch! + </p> + <p> + Yet, to be first an eloper from my friends to him, as the world supposes; + and now to be so from him [to whom I know not!] how hard to one who ever + endeavoured to shun intricate paths! But he must certainly have views in + quarrelling with me thus, which he dare not own!—Yet what can they + be?— I am terrified but to think of what they may be! + </p> + <p> + Let me but get from him!—As to my reputation, if I leave him—that + is already too much wounded for me, now, to be careful about any thing, + but how to act so as that my own heart shall not reproach me. As to the + world's censure, I must be content to suffer that—an unhappy + composition, however.—What a wreck have my fortunes suffered, to be + obliged to throw overboard so many valuables, to preserve, indeed, the + only valuable!—A composition that once it would have half broken my + heart to think there would have been the least danger that I should be + obliged to submit to. + </p> + <p> + You, my dear, could not be a stranger to my most secret failings, although + you would not tell me of them. What a pride did I take in the applause of + every one!—What a pride even in supposing I had not that pride!—Which + concealed itself from my unexamining heart under the specious veil of + humility, doubling the merit to myself by the supposed, and indeed + imputed, gracefulness in the manner of conferring benefits, when I had not + a single merit in what I did, vastly overpaid by the pleasure of doing + some little good, and impelled, as I may say, by talents given me—for + what!—Not to be proud of. + </p> + <p> + So, desirous, in short, to be considered as an example! A vanity which my + partial admirers put into my head!—And so secure in my own virtue! + </p> + <p> + I am punished enough, enough mortified, for this my vanity—I hope, + enough, if it so please the all-gracious inflictor: since now, I verily + think, I more despise myself for my presumptuous self-security, as well as + vanity, than ever I secretly vaunted myself on my good inclinations: + secretly, I say, however; for, indeed, I had not given myself leisure to + reflect, till I was thus mortified, how very imperfect I was; nor how much + truth there is in what divines tell us, that we sin in our best + performances. + </p> + <p> + But I was very young.—But here let me watch over myself again: for + in those four words, I was very young, is there not a palliation couched, + that were enough to take all efficacy from the discovery and confession? + </p> + <p> + What strange imperfect beings!—but self here, which is at the bottom + of all we do, and of all we wish, is the grand misleader. + </p> + <p> + I will not apologize to you, my dear, for these grave reflections. Is it + not enough to make the unhappy creature look into herself, and endeavour + to detect herself, who, from such a high reputation, left to proud and + presumptuous self, should by one thoughtless step, be brought to the + dreadful situation I am in? + </p> + <p> + Let me, however, look forward: to despond would be to add sin to sin. And + whom have I to raise me up, whom to comfort me, if I desert myself?— + Thou, O Father, who, I hope, hast not yet deserted, hast not yet cursed + me!—For I am thine!—It is fit that mediation should supply the + rest.— + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I was so disgusted with him, as well as frighted by him, that on my return + to my chamber, in a fit of passionate despair, I tore almost in two the + answer I had written to his proposals. + </p> + <p> + I will see him in the morning, because I promised I would. But I will go + out, and that without him, or any attendant. If he account not tolerably + for his sudden change of behaviour, and a proper opportunity offer of a + private lodging in some creditable house, I will not any more return to + this:—at present I think so.—And there will I either attend + the perfecting of your scheme; or, by your epistolary mediation, make my + own terms with the wretch; since it is your opinion, that I must be his, + and cannot help myself: or, perhaps, take a resolution to throw myself at + once into Lady Betty's protection; and this will hinder him from making + his insolently-threatened visit to Harlowe-place. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[The Lady writes again on Monday evening; and gives her friend an account + of all that passed between herself and Mr. Lovelace that day; and of + her being terrified out of her purpose, of going out: but Mr. + Lovelace's next letters giving a more ample account of all, hers are + omitted. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +It is proper, however, to mention, that she re-urges Miss Howe (from the + dissatisfaction she has reason for from what passed between Mr. + Lovelace and herself) to perfect her scheme in relation to Mrs. + Townsend. She concludes this letter in these words:] +</pre> + <p> + I should say something of your last favour (but a few hours ago received) + and of your dialogue with your mother—Are you not very whimsical, my + dear? I have but two things to wish for on this occasion.—The one, + that your charming pleasantry had a better subject than that you find for + it in this dialogue—the other, that my situation were not such, as + must too often damp that pleasantry in you, and will not permit me to + enjoy it, as I used to do. Be, however, happy in yourself, though you + cannot in + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY MORNING, MAY 22. + </p> + <p> + No generosity in this lady. None at all. Wouldst thou not have thought, + that after I had permitted her to withdraw, primed for mischief as I was, + she would meet me next morning early; and that with a smile; making me one + of her best courtesies? + </p> + <p> + I was in the dining-room before six, expecting her. She opened not her + door. I went up stairs and down; and hemm'd; and called Will.; called + Dorcas; threw the doors hard to; but still she opened not her door. Thus + till half an hour after eight, fooled I away my time; and then (breakfast + ready) I sent Dorcas to request her company. + </p> + <p> + But I was astonished, when (following the wench, as she did at the first + invitation) I saw her enter dressed, all but her gloves, and those and her + fan in her hand; in the same moment bidding Dorcas direct Will. to get her + a chair to the door. + </p> + <p> + Cruel creature, thought I, to expose me thus to the derision of the women + below! + </p> + <p> + Going abroad, Madam! + </p> + <p> + I am, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I looked cursed silly, I am sure. You will breakfast first, I hope, Madam; + and a very humble strain; yet with an hundred tender looks in my heart. + </p> + <p> + Had she given me more notice of her intention, I had perhaps wrought + myself up to the frame I was in the day before, and begun my vengeance. + And immediately came into my head all the virulence that had been + transcribed for me from Miss Howe's letters, and in that letter which I + had transcribed myself. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she would drink one dish; and then laid her gloves and fan in the + window just by. + </p> + <p> + I was perfectly disconcerted. I hemm'd, and was going to speak several + times; but I knew not in what key. Who's modest now! thought I. Who's + insolent now!—How a tyrant of a woman confounds a bashful man! She + was acting Miss Howe, I thought; and I the spiritless Hickman. + </p> + <p> + At last, I will begin, thought I. + </p> + <p> + She a dish—I a dish. + </p> + <p> + Sip, her eyes her own, she; like a haughty and imperious sovereign, + conscious of dignity, every look a favour. + </p> + <p> + Sip, like her vassal, I; lips and hands trembling, and not knowing that I + sipp'd or tasted. + </p> + <p> + I was—I was—I sipp'd—(drawing in my breath and the + liquor together, though I scalded my mouth with it) I was in hopes, Madam— + </p> + <p> + Dorcas came in just then.—Dorcas, said she, is a chair gone for? + </p> + <p> + Damn'd impertinence, thought I, thus to put me out in my speech! And I was + forced to wait for the servant's answer to the insolent mistress's + question. + </p> + <p> + William is gone for one, Madam. + </p> + <p> + This cost me a minute's silence before I could begin again. And then it + was with my hopes, and my hopes, and my hopes, that I should have been + early admitted to— + </p> + <p> + What weather is it, Dorcas? said she, as regardless of me as if I had not + been present. + </p> + <p> + A little lowering, Madam—The sun is gone in—it was very fine + half an hour ago. + </p> + <p> + I had no patience. Up I rose. Down went the tea-cup, saucer and all— + Confound the weather, the sunshine, and the wench!—Begone for a + devil, when I am speaking to your lady, and have so little opportunity + given me. + </p> + <p> + Up rose the saucy-face, half-frighted; and snatched from the window her + gloves and fan. + </p> + <p> + You must not go, Madam!—Seizing her hand—by my soul you must + not— + </p> + <p> + Must not, Sir!—But I must—you can curse your maid in my + absence, as well as if I were present——Except—except—you + intend for me, what you direct to her. + </p> + <p> + Dearest creature, you must not go—you must not leave me—Such + determined scorn! such contempts!—Questions asked your servant of no + meaning but to break in upon me—I cannot bear it! + </p> + <p> + Detain me not [struggling.] I will not be withheld. I like you not, nor + your ways. You sought to quarrel with me yesterday, for no reason in the + world that I can think of, but because I was too obliging. You are an + ungrateful man; and I hate you with my whole heart, Mr. Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + Do not make me desperate, Madam. Permit me to say, that you shall not + leave me in this humour. Wherever you go, I will attend you. Had Miss Howe + been my friend, I had not been thus treated. It is but too plain to whom + my difficulties are owing. I have long observed, that every letter you + received from her, makes an alteration in your behaviour to me. She would + have you treat me, as she treats Mr. Hickman, I suppose: but neither does + that treatment become your admirable temper to offer, nor me to receive. + </p> + <p> + This startled her. She did not care to have me think hardly of Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + But recollecting herself, Miss Howe, said she, is a friend to virtue, and + to good men. If she like not you, it is because you are not one of those. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Madam; and therefore to speak of Mr. Hickman and myself, as you both, + I suppose, think of each, she treats him as she would not treat a + Lovelace.—I challenge you, Madam, to shew me but one of the many + letters you have received from her, where I am mentioned. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe is just; Miss Howe is good, replied she. She writes, she speaks, + of every body as they deserve. If you point me out but any one occasion, + upon which you have reason to build a merit to yourself, as either just or + good, or even generous, I will look out for her letter on that occasion + [if such an occasion there be, I have certainly acquainted her with it]; + and will engage it shall be in your favour. + </p> + <p> + Devilish severe! And as indelicate as severe, to put a modish man upon + hunting backward after his own merits. + </p> + <p> + She would have flung from me: I will not be detained, Mr. Lovelace. I will + go out. + </p> + <p> + Indeed you must not, Madam, in this humour. And I placed myself between + her and the door.——And then, fanning, she threw herself into a + chair, her sweet face all crimsoned over with passion. + </p> + <p> + I cast myself at her feet.—Begone, Mr. Lovelace, said she, with a + rejecting motion, her fan in her hand; for your own sake leave me!—My + soul is above thee, man! with both her hands pushing me from her!—Urge + me not to tell thee, how sincerely I think my soul above thee!—Thou + hast, in mine, a proud, a too proud heart to contend with!—Leave me, + and leave me for ever!—Thou has a proud heart to contend with! + </p> + <p> + Her air, her manner, her voice, were bewitchingly noble, though her words + were so severe. + </p> + <p> + Let me worship an angel, said I, no woman. Forgive me, dearest creature! + —creature if you be, forgive me!—forgive my inadvertencies!—forgive + my inequalities!—pity my infirmities!—Who is equal to my + Clarissa? + </p> + <p> + I trembled between admiration and love; and wrapt my arms about her knees, + as she sat. She tried to rise at the moment; but my clasping round her + thus ardently, drew her down again; and never was woman more affrighted. + But free as my clasping emotion might appear to her apprehensive heart, I + had not, at the instant, any thought but what reverence inspired. And till + she had actually withdrawn [which I permitted under promise of a speedy + return, and on her consent to dismiss the chair] all the motions of my + heart were as pure as her own. + </p> + <p> + She kept not her word. An hour I waited before I sent to claim her + promise. She could not possibly see me yet, was her answer. As soon as she + could, she would. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas says, she still excessively trembled; and ordered her to give her + hartshorn and water. + </p> + <p> + A strange apprehensive creature! Her terror is too great for the occasion. + Evils are often greater in apprehension than in reality. Hast thou never + observed, that the terrors of a bird caught, and actually in the hand, + bear no comparison to what we might have supposed those terrors would be, + were we to have formed a judgment of the same bird by its shyness before + it was taken? + </p> + <p> + Dear creature!—Did she never romp? Did she never, from girlhood to + now, hoyden? The innocent kinds of freedom taken and allowed on these + occasions, would have familiarized her to greater. Sacrilege but to touch + the hem of her garment!—Excess of delicacy!—O the consecrated + beauty! How can she think to be a wife? + </p> + <p> + But how do I know till I try, whether she may not by a less alarming + treatment be prevailed upon, or whether [day, I have done with thee!] she + may not yield to nightly surprises? This is still the burden of my song, I + can marry her when I will. And if I do, after prevailing (whether by + surprise, or by reluctant consent) whom but myself shall I have injured? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + It is now eleven o'clock. She will see me as soon as she can, she tells + Polly Horton, who made her a tender visit, and to whom she is less + reserved than to any body else. Her emotion, she assures her, was not + owing to perverseness, to nicety, to ill humour; but to weakness of heart. + She has not strength of mind sufficient, she says, to enable her to + support her condition. + </p> + <p> + Yet what a contradiction!—Weakness of heart, says she, with such a + strength of will!—O Belford! she is a lion-hearted lady, in every + case where her honour, her punctilio rather, calls for spirit. But I have + had reason more than once in her case, to conclude, that the passions of + the gentle, slower to be moved than those of the quick, are the most + flaming, the most irresistible, when raised.—Yet her charming body + is not equally organized. The unequal partners pull two ways; and the + divinity within her tears her silken frame. But had the same soul informed + a masculine body, never would there have been a truer hero. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY, TWO O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Not yet visible!—My beloved is not well. What expectations had she + from my ardent admiration of her!—More rudeness than revenge + apprehended. Yet, how my soul thirsts for revenge upon both these ladies? + I must have recourse to my master-strokes. This cursed project of Miss + Howe and her Mrs. Townsend (if I cannot contrive to render it abortive) + will be always a sword hanging over my head. Upon every little + disobligation my beloved will be for taking wing; and the pains I have + taken to deprive her of every other refuge or protection, in order to make + her absolutely dependent upon me, will be all thrown away. But perhaps I + shall find out a smuggler to counterplot Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Thou remembrest the contention between the Sun and the North-wind, in the + fable; which should first make an honest traveller throw off his cloak. + </p> + <p> + Boreas began first. He puffed away most vehemently; and often made the + poor fellow curve and stagger; but with no other effect, than to cause him + to wrap his surtout the closer about him. + </p> + <p> + But when it came to Phoebus's turn, he so played upon the traveller with + his beams, that he made him first unbutton, and then throw it quite off: + —Nor left he, till he obliged him to take to the friendly shade of a + spreading beech; where, prostrating himself on the thrown-off cloak, he + took a comfortable nap. + </p> + <p> + The victor-god then laughed outright, both at Boreas and the traveller, + and pursued his radiant course, shining upon, and warming and cherishing a + thousand new objects, as he danced along: and at night, when he put up his + fiery coursers, he diverted his Thetis with the relation of his pranks in + the passed day. + </p> + <p> + I, in like manner, will discard all my boisterous inventions: and if I can + oblige my sweet traveller to throw aside, but for one moment, the cloak of + her rigid virtue, I shall have nothing to do, but, like the sun, to bless + new objects with my rays. But my chosen hours of conversation and repose, + after all my peregrinations, will be devoted to my goddess. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, according to my new system, I think this house of Mrs. + Fretchville an embarrass upon me. I will get rid of it; for some time at + least. Mennell, when I am out, shall come to her, inquiring for me. What + for? thou'lt ask. What for—hast thou not heard what has befallen + poor Mrs. Fretchville?—Then I'll tell thee. + </p> + <p> + One of her maids, about a week ago, was taken with the small-pox. The rest + kept their mistress ignorant of it till Friday; and then she came to know + of it by accident. The greater half of the plagues poor mortals of + condition are tormented with, proceed from the servants they take, partly + for show, partly for use, and with a view to lessen their cares. + </p> + <p> + This has so terrified the widow, that she is taken with all the symptoms + that threaten an attack from that dreadful enemy of fair faces.—So + must not think of removing: yet cannot expect, that we should be further + delayed on her account. + </p> + <p> + She now wishes, with all her heart, that she had known her own mind, and + gone into the country at first when I treated about the house. This evil + then had not happened! a cursed cross accident for us, too!—Heigh-ho! + nothing else, I think, in this mortal life! people need not study to bring + crosses upon themselves by their petulancies. + </p> + <p> + So this affair of the house will be over; at least for one while. But then + I can fall upon an expedient which will make amends for this + disappointment. I must move slow, in order to be sure. I have a charming + contrivance or two in my head, even supposing my beloved should get away, + to bring her back again. + </p> + <p> + But what is become of Lord M. I trow, that he writes not to me, in answer + to my invitation? If he would send me such a letter as I could show, it + might go a great way towards a perfect reconciliation. I have written to + Charlotte about it. He shall soon hear from me, and that in a way he won't + like, if he writes not quickly. He has sometimes threatened to disinherit + me. But if I should renounce him, it would be but justice, and would vex + him ten times more than any thing he can do will vex me. Then, the + settlements unavoidably delayed, by his neglect!—How shall I bear + such a life of procrastination!—I, who, as to my will, and + impatience, and so forth, am of the true lady-make, and can as little bear + controul and disappointment as the best of them! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Another letter from Miss Howe. I suppose it is that which she promises in + her last to send her relating to the courtship between old Tony the uncle, + and Annabella the mother. I should be extremely rejoiced to see it. No + more of the smuggler-plot in it, surely! This letter, it seems, she has + put in her pocket. But I hope I shall soon find it deposited with the + rest. + </p> + <p> + MONDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + At my repeated request she condescended to meet me in the dining-room to + afternoon-tea, and not before. + </p> + <p> + She entered with bashfulness, as I thought; in a pretty confusion, for + having carried her apprehensions too far. Sullen and slow moved she + towards the tea-table.—Dorcas present, busy in tea-cup preparations. + I took her reluctant hand, and pressed it to my lips.—Dearest, + loveliest of creatures, why this distance? why this displeasure?—How + can you thus torture the faithfullest heart in the world? + </p> + <p> + She disengaged her hand. Again I would have snatched it. + </p> + <p> + Be quiet, [peevishly withdrawing it.] And down she sat; a gentle + palpitation in the beauty of beauties indicating a mingled sullenness and + resentment; her snowy handkerchief rising and falling, and a sweet flush + overspreading her charming cheeks. + </p> + <p> + For God's sake, Madam!—[And a third time I would have taken her + repulsing hand.] + </p> + <p> + And for the same sake, Sir, no more teasing. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas retired; I drew my chair nearer her's, and with the most respectful + tenderness took her hand; and told her, that I could not forbear to + express my apprehensions (from the distance she was so desirous to keep me + at) that if any man in the world was more indifferent to her, to use no + harsher word, than another, it was the unhappy wretch before her. + </p> + <p> + She looked steadily upon me for a moment, and with her other hand, not + withdrawing that I held, pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket; and by + a twinkling motion urged forward a tear or two, which having arisen in + each sweet eye, it was plain by that motion she would rather have + dissipated: but answered me only with a sigh, and an averted face. + </p> + <p> + I urged her to speak; to look up at me; to bless me with an eye more + favourable. + </p> + <p> + I had reason, she told me, for my complaint of her indifference. She saw + nothing in my mind that was generous. I was not a man to be obliged or + favoured. My strange behaviour to her since Saturday night, for no cause + at all that she knew of, convinced her of this. Whatever hopes she had + conceived of me were utterly dissipated: all my ways were disgustful to + her. + </p> + <p> + This cut me to the heart. The guilty, I believe, in every case, less + patiently bear the detecting truth, than the innocent do the degrading + falsehood. + </p> + <p> + I bespoke her patience, while I took the liberty to account for this + change on my part.—I re-acknowledged the pride of my heart, which + could not bear the thought of that want of preference in the heart of a + lady whom I hoped to call mine, which she had always manifested. Marriage, + I said, was a state that was not to be entered upon with indifference on + either side. + </p> + <p> + It is insolence, interrupted she, it is a presumption, Sir, to expect + tokens of value, without resolving to deserve them. You have no whining + creature before you, Mr. Lovelace, overcome by weak motives, to love where + there is no merit. Miss Howe can tell you, Sir, that I never loved the + faults of my friend; nor ever wished her to love me for mine. It was a + rule with us not to spare each other. And would a man who has nothing but + faults (for pray, Sir, what are your virtues?) expect that I should show a + value for him? Indeed, if I did, I should not deserve even his value; but + ought to be despised by him. + </p> + <p> + Well have you, Madam, kept up to this noble manner of thinking. You are in + no danger of being despised for any marks of tenderness or favour shown to + the man before you. You have been perhaps, you'll think, laudably studious + of making and taking occasions to declare, that it was far from being + owing to your choice, that you had any thoughts of me. My whole soul, + Madam, in all its errors, in all its wishes, in all its views, had been + laid open and naked before you, had I been encouraged by such a share in + your confidence and esteem, as would have secured me against your + apprehended worst constructions of what I should from time to time have + revealed to you, and consulted you upon. For never was there a franker + heart; nor a man so ready to accuse himself. [This, Belford, is true.] But + you know, Madam, how much otherwise it has been between us.—Doubt, + distance, reserve, on your part, begat doubt, fear, awe, on mine.—How + little confidence! as if we apprehended each other to be a plotter rather + than a lover. How have I dreaded every letter that has been brought you + from Wilson's!—and with reason: since the last, from which I + expected so much, on account of the proposals I had made you in writing, + has, if I may judge by the effects, and by your denial of seeing me + yesterday, (though you could go abroad, and in a chair too, to avoid my + attendance on you,) set you against me more than ever. + </p> + <p> + I was guilty, it seems, of going to church, said the indignant charmer; + and without the company of a man, whose choice it would not have been to + go, had I not gone—I was guilty of desiring to have the whole Sunday + to myself, after I had obliged you, against my will, at a play; and after + you had detained me (equally to my dislike) to a very late hour over- + night.—These were my faults: for these I was to be punished: I was + to be compelled to see you, and to be terrified when I did see you, by the + most shocking ill humour that was ever shown to a creature in my + circumstances, and not bound to bear it. You have pretended to find free + fault with my father's temper, Mr. Lovelace: but the worst that he ever + showed after marriage, was not in the least to be compared to what you + have shown twenty times beforehand.—And what are my prospects with + you, at the very best?—My indignation rises against you, Mr. + Lovelace, while I speak to you, when I recollect the many instances, + equally ungenerous and unpolite, of your behaviour to one whom you have + brought into distress—and I can hardly bear you in my sight. + </p> + <p> + She turned from me, standing up; and, lifting up her folded hands, and + charming eyes swimming in tears, O my father, said the inimitable + creature, you might have spared your heavy curse, had you known how I have + been punished ever since my swerving feet led me out of your garden-doors + to meet this man!—Then, sinking into her chair, a burst of + passionate tears forced their way down her glowing cheeks. + </p> + <p> + My dearest life, [taking her still folded hands in mine,] who can bear an + invocation so affecting, though so passionate? + </p> + <p> + And, as I hope to live, my nose tingled, as I once, when a boy, remember + it did (and indeed once more very lately) just before some tears came into + my eyes; and I durst hardly trust my face in view of her's. + </p> + <p> + What have I done to deserve this impatient exclamation?—Have I, at + any time, by word, by deeds, by looks, given you cause to doubt my honour, + my reverence, my adoration, I may call it, of your virtues? All is owing + to misapprehension, I hope, on both sides. Condescend to clear up but your + part, as I will mine, and all must speedily be happy.—Would to + Heaven I loved that Heaven as I love you! and yet, if I doubted a return + in love, let me perish if I should know how to wish you mine!—Give + me hope, dearest creature, give me but hope, that I am your preferable + choice!— Give me but hope, that you hate me not: that you do not + despise me. + </p> + <p> + O Mr. Lovelace, we have been long enough together to be tired of each + other's humours and ways; ways and humours so different, that perhaps you + ought to dislike me, as much as I do you.—I think, I think, that I + cannot make an answerable return to the value you profess for me. My + temper is utterly ruined. You have given me an ill opinion of all mankind; + of yourself in particular: and withal so bad a one of myself, that I shall + never be able to look up, having utterly and for ever lost all that + self-complacency, and conscious pride, which are so necessary to carry a + woman through this life with tolerable satisfaction to herself. + </p> + <p> + She paused. I was silent. By my soul, thought I, this sweet creature will + at last undo me! + </p> + <p> + She proceeded: What now remains, but that you pronounce me free of all + obligation to you? and that you hinder me not from pursuing the destiny + that shall be allotted me? + </p> + <p> + Again she paused. I was still silent; meditating whether to renounce all + further designs upon her; whether I had not received sufficient evidence + of a virtue, and of a greatness of soul, that could not be questioned or + impeached. + </p> + <p> + She went on: Propitious to me be your silence, Mr. Lovelace!—Tell + me, that I am free of all obligation to you. You know, I never made you + promises. You know, that you are not under any to me.—My broken + fortunes I matter not— + </p> + <p> + She was proceeding—My dearest life, said I, I have been all this + time, though you fill me with doubts of your favour, busy in the nuptial + preparations. I am actually in treaty for equipage. + </p> + <p> + Equipage, Sir!—Trappings, tinsel!—What is equipage; what is + life; what is any thing; to a creature sunk so low as I am in my own + opinion!— Labouring under a father's curse!—Unable to look + backward without self- reproach, or forward without terror!—These + reflections strengthened by every cross accident!—And what but cross + accidents befall me!—All my darling schemes dashed in pieces, all my + hopes at an end; deny me not the liberty to refuge myself in some obscure + corner, where neither the enemies you have made me, nor the few friends + you have left me, may ever hear of the supposed rash-one, till those happy + moments are at hand, which shall expiate for all! + </p> + <p> + I had not a word to say for myself. Such a war in my mind had I never + known. Gratitude, and admiration of the excellent creature before me, + combating with villanous habit, with resolutions so premeditatedly made, + and with view so much gloried in!—An hundred new contrivances in my + head, and in my heart, that to be honest, as it is called, must all be + given up, by a heart delighting in intrigue and difficulty—Miss + Howe's virulences endeavoured to be recollected—yet recollection + refusing to bring them forward with the requisite efficacy—I had + certainly been a lost man, had not Dorcas come seasonably in with a + letter.—On the superscription written—Be pleased, Sir, to open + it now. + </p> + <p> + I retired to the window—opened it—it was from Dorcas herself.—These + the contents—'Be pleased to detain my lady: a paper of importance to + transcribe. I will cough when I have done.' + </p> + <p> + I put the paper in my pocket, and turned to my charmer, less disconcerted, + as she, by that time, had also a little recovered herself. —One + favour, dearest creature—Let me but know, whether Miss Howe approves + or disapproves of my proposals? I know her to be my enemy. I was intending + to account to you for the change of behaviour you accused me of at the + beginning of the conversation; but was diverted from it by your vehemence. + Indeed, my beloved creature, you were very vehement. Do you think it must + not be matter of high regret to me, to find my wishes so often delayed and + postponed in favour of your predominant view to a reconciliation with + relations who will not be reconciled to you?—To this was owing your + declining to celebrate our nuptials before we came to town, though you + were so atrociously treated by your sister, and your whole family; and + though so ardently pressed to celebrate by me—to this was owing the + ready offence you took at my four friends; and at the unavailing attempt I + made to see a dropt letter; little imagining, from what two such ladies + could write to each other, that there could be room for mortal displeasure—to + this was owing the week's distance you held me at, till you knew the issue + of another application.—But, when they had rejected that; when you + had sent my cold-received proposals to Miss Howe for her approbation or + advice, as indeed I advised; and had honoured me with your company at the + play on Saturday night; (my whole behaviour unobjectionable to the last + hour;) must not, Madam, the sudden change in your conduct the very next + morning, astonish and distress me?—and this persisted in with still + stronger declarations, after you had received the impatiently-expected + letter from Miss Howe; must I not conclude, that all was owing to her + influence; and that some other application or project was meditating, that + made it necessary to keep me again at a distance till the result were + known, and which was to deprive me of you for ever? For was not that your + constantly-proposed preliminary?—Well, Madam, might I be wrought up + to a half-phrensy by this apprehension; and well might I charge you with + hating me.—And now, dearest creature, let me know, I once more ask + you, what is Miss Howe's opinion of my proposals? + </p> + <p> + Were I disposed to debate with you, Mr. Lovelace, I could very easily + answer your fine harangue. But at present, I shall only say, that your + ways have been very unaccountable. You seem to me, if your meanings were + always just, to have taken great pains to embarrass them. Whether owing in + you to the want of a clear head, or a sound heart, I cannot determine; but + it is to the want of one of them, I verily think, that I am to ascribe the + greatest part of your strange conduct. + </p> + <p> + Curse upon the heart of the little devil, said I, who instigates you to + think so hardly of the faithfullest heart in the world! + </p> + <p> + How dare you, Sir! And there she stopt; having almost overshot herself; as + I designed she should. + </p> + <p> + How dare I what, Madam? And I looked with meaning. How dare I what? + </p> + <p> + Vile man—And do you—And there again she stopt. + </p> + <p> + Do I what, Madam?—And why vile man? + </p> + <p> + How dare you curse any body in my presence? + </p> + <p> + O the sweet receder! But that was not to go off so with a Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + Why then, dearest creature, is there any body that instigates you?—If + there be, again I curse them, be they whom they will. + </p> + <p> + She was in a charming pretty passion. And this was the first time that I + had the odds in my favour. + </p> + <p> + Well, Madam, it is just as I thought. And now I know how to account for a + temper that I hope is not natural to you. + </p> + <p> + Artful wretch! and is it thus you would entrap me? But know, Sir, that I + received letters from nobody but Miss Howe. Miss Howe likes some of your + ways as little as I do; for I have set every thing before her. Yet she is + thus far your enemy, as she is mine. She thinks I could not refuse your + offers; but endeavour to make the best of my lot. And now you have the + truth. Would to heaven you were capable of dealing with equal sincerity! + </p> + <p> + I am, Madam. And here, on my knee, I renew my vows, and my supplication, + that you will make me your's. Your's for ever. And let me have cause to + bless you and Miss Howe in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + To say the truth, Belford, I had before begun to think that the vixen of a + girl, who certainly likes not Hickman, was in love with me. + </p> + <p> + Rise, Sir, from your too-ready knees; and mock me not! + </p> + <p> + Too-ready knees, thought I! Though this humble posture so little affects + this proud beauty, she knows not how much I have obtained of others of her + sex, nor how often I have been forgiven for the last attempts, by + kneeling. + </p> + <p> + Mock you, Madam! And I arose, and re-urged her for the day. I blamed + myself, at the same time, for the invitation I had given to Lord M., as it + might subject me to delay from his infirmities: but told her, that I would + write to him to excuse me, if she had no objection; or to give him the day + she would give me, and not wait for him, if he could not come in time. + </p> + <p> + My day, Sir, said she, is never. Be not surprised. A person of politeness + judging between us, would not be surprised that I say so. But indeed, Mr. + Lovelace, [and wept through impatience,] you either know not how to treat + with a mind of the least degree of delicacy, notwithstanding your birth + and education, or you are an ungrateful man; and [after a pause] a worse + than ungrateful one. But I will retire. I will see you again to-morrow. I + cannot before. I think I hate you. And if, upon a re-examination of my own + heart, I find I do, I would not for the world that matters should go on + farther between us. + </p> + <p> + But I see, I see, she does not hate me! How it would mortify my vanity, if + I thought there was a woman in the world, much more this, that could hate + me! 'Tis evident, villain as she thinks me, that I should not be an odious + villain, if I could but at last in one instance cease to be a villain! She + could not hold it, determined as she had thought herself, I saw by her + eyes, the moment I endeavoured to dissipate her apprehensions, on my + too-ready knees, as she calls them. The moment the rough covering my + teasing behaviour has thrown over her affections is quite removed, I doubt + not to find all silk and silver at the bottom, all soft, bright, and + charming. + </p> + <p> + I was however too much vexed, disconcerted, mortified, to hinder her from + retiring. And yet she had not gone, if Dorcas had not coughed. + </p> + <p> + The wench came in, as soon as her lady had retired, and gave me the copy + she had taken. And what should it be but of the answer the truly admirable + creature had intended to give to my written proposals in relation to + settlements? + </p> + <p> + I have but just dipt my pen into this affecting paper. Were I to read it + attentively, not a wink should I sleep this night. To-morrow it shall + obtain my serious consideration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 23. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature desires to be excused seeing me till evening. She is not + very well, as Dorcas tells me. + </p> + <p> + Read here, if thou wilt, the paper transcribed by Dorcas. It is impossible + that I should proceed with my projects against this admirable woman, were + it not that I am resolved, after a few trials more, if as nobly sustained + as those she has passed through, to make her (if she really hate me not) + legally mine. + </p> + <p> + TO MR. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + 'When a woman is married, that supreme earthly obligation requires, that + in all instances, where her husband's real honour is concerned, she should + yield her own will to his. But, beforehand, I could be glad, conformably + to what I have always signified, to have the most explicit assurances, + that every possible way should be tried to avoid litigation with my + father. Time and patience will subdue all things. My prospects of + happiness are extremely contracted. A husband's right will be always the + same. In my lifetime I could wish nothing to be done of this sort. Your + circumstances, Sir, will not oblige you to extort violently from him what + is in his hands. All that depends upon me, either with regard to my + person, to my diversions, or to the economy that no married woman, of + whatever rank or quality, should be above inspecting, shall be done, to + prevent a necessity for such measures being taken. And if there will be no + necessity for them, it is to be hoped that motives less excusable will not + have force—motives which must be founded in a littleness of mind, + which a woman, who has not that littleness of mind, will be under such + temptations, as her duty will hardly be able at all times to check, to + despise her husband for having; especially in cases where her own family, + so much a part of herself, and which will have obligations upon her + (though then but secondary ones) from which she can never be freed, is + intimately concerned. + </p> + <p> + 'This article, then, I urge to your most serious consideration, as what + lies next my heart. I enter not here minutely into the fatal + misunderstanding between them and you: the fault may be in both. But, Sir, + your's was the foundation-fault: at least, you gave a too-plausible + pretence for my brother's antipathy to work upon. Condescension was no + part of your study. You chose to bear the imputations laid to your charge, + rather than to make it your endeavour to obviate them. + </p> + <p> + 'But this may lead into hateful recrimination.—Let it be remembered, + I will only say, in this place, that, in their eye, you have robbed them + of a daughter they doated upon; and that their resentments on this + occasion rise but in proportion to their love and their disappointment. If + they were faulty in some of the measures they took, while they themselves + did not think so, who shall judge for them? You, Sir, who will judge every + body as you please, and will let nobody judge you in your own particular, + must not be their judge.—It may therefore be expected that they will + stand out. + </p> + <p> + 'As for myself, Sir, I must leave it (so seems it to be destined) to your + justice, to treat me as you shall think I deserve: but, if your future + behaviour to them is not governed by that harsh-sounding implacableness, + which you charge upon some of their tempers, the splendour of your family, + and the excellent character of some of them (of all indeed, unless your + own conscience furnishes you with one only exception) will, on better + consideration, do every thing with them: for they may be overcome; perhaps, + however, with the more difficulty, as the greatly prosperous less bear + controul and disappointment than others: for I will own to you, that I + have often in secret lamented, that their great acquirements have been a + snare to them; perhaps as great a snare, as some other accidentals have + been to you; which being less immediately your own gifts, you have still + less reason than they to value yourself upon them. + </p> + <p> + 'Let me only, on this subject, further observe, that condescension is not + meanness. There is a glory in yielding, that hardly any violent spirit can + judge of. My brother, perhaps, is no more sensible of this than you. But + as you have talents, which he has not, (who, however, has, as I hope, that + regard for morals, the want of which makes one of his objections to you,) + I could wish it may not be owing to you, that your mutual dislikes to each + other do not subside! for it is my earnest hope, that in time you may see + each other, without exciting the fears of a wife and a sister for the + consequence. Not that I should wish you to yield in points that truly + concerned your honour: no, Sir; I would be as delicate in such, as you + yourself: more delicate, I will venture to say, because more uniformly so. + How vain, how contemptible, is that pride, which shows itself in standing + upon diminutive observances; and gives up, and makes a jest of, the most + important duties! + </p> + <p> + 'This article being considered as I wish, all the rest will be easy. Were + I to accept of the handsome separate provision you seem to intend me; + added to the considerate sums arisen from my grandfather's estate since + his death (more considerable than perhaps you may suppose from your + offer); I should think it my duty to lay up for the family good, and for + unforseen events, out of it: for, as to my donations, I would generally + confine myself in them to the tenth of my income, be it what it would. I + aim at no glare in what I do of that sort. All I wish for, is the power of + relieving the lame, the blind, the sick, and the industrious poor, and + those whom accident has made so, or sudden distress reduced. The common or + bred beggars I leave to others, and to the public provision. They cannot + be lower: perhaps they wish not to be higher: and, not able to do for + every one, I aim not at works of supererogation. Two hundred pounds a year + would do all I wish to do of the separate sort: for all above, I would + content myself to ask you; except, mistrusting your own economy, you would + give up to my management and keeping, in order to provide for future + contingencies, a larger portion; for which, as your steward, I would + regularly account. + </p> + <p> + 'As to clothes, I have particularly two suits, which, having been only in + a manner tried on, would answer for any present occasion. Jewels I have of + my grandmother's, which want only new-setting: another set I have, which + on particular days I used to wear. Although these are not sent me, I have + no doubt, being merely personals, but they will, when I should send for + them in another name: till when I should not choose to wear any. + </p> + <p> + 'As to your complaints of my diffidences, and the like, I appeal to your + own heart, if it be possible for you to make my case your own for one + moment, and to retrospect some parts of your behaviour, words, and + actions, whether I am not rather to be justified than censured: and + whether, of all the men in the world, avowing what you avow, you ought not + to think so. If you do not, let me admonish you, Sir, from the very great + mismatch that then must appear to be in our minds, never to seek, nor so + much as to wish, to bring about the most intimate union of interests + between yourself and + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. MAY 20.' + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The original of this charming paper, as Dorcas tells me, was torn almost + in two. In one of her pets, I suppose! What business have the sex, whose + principal glory is meekness, and patience, and resignation, to be in a + passion, I trow?—Will not she who allows herself such liberties as a + maiden take greater when married? + </p> + <p> + And a wife to be in a passion!—Let me tell the ladies, it is an + impudent thing, begging their pardon, and as imprudent as impudent, for a + wife to be in a passion, if she mean not eternal separation, or wicked + defiance, by it: For is it not rejecting at once all that expostulatory + meekness, and gentle reasoning, mingled with sighs as gentle, and graced + with bent knees, supplicating hands, and eyes lifted up to your imperial + countenance, just running over, that you should make a reconciliation + speedy, and as lasting as speedy? Even suppose the husband is in the + wrong, will not this being so give the greater force to her expostulation? + </p> + <p> + Now I think of it, a man should be in the wrong now-and-then, to make his + wife shine. Miss Howe tells my charmer, that adversity is her shining- + time. 'Tis a generous thing in a man to make his wife shine at his own + expense: to give her leave to triumph over him by patient reasoning: for + were he to be too imperial to acknowledge his fault on the spot, she will + find the benefit of her duty and submission in future, and in the high + opinion he will conceive of her prudence and obligingness—and so, by + degrees, she will become her master's master. + </p> + <p> + But for a wife to come up with kemboed arm, the other hand thrown out, + perhaps with a pointing finger—Look ye here, Sir!—Take notice!—If + you are wrong, I'll be wrong!—If you are in a passion, I'll be in a + passion! —Rebuff, for rebuff, Sir!—If you fly, I'll tear!—If + you swear, I'll curse!—And the same room, and the same bed, shall + not hold us, Sir!- For, remember, I am married, Sir!—I am a wife, + Sir!—You can't help yourself, Sir!—Your honour, as well as + your peace, is in my keeping! And, if you like not this treatment, you may + have worse, Sir! + </p> + <p> + Ah! Jack! Jack! What man, who has observed these things, either implied or + expressed, in other families, would wish to be a husband! + </p> + <p> + Dorcas found this paper in one of the drawers of her lady's dressing- + table. She was reperusing it, as she supposes, when the honest wench + carried my message to desire her to favour me at the tea-table; for she + saw her pop a paper into the drawer as she came in; and there, on her + mistress's going to meet me in the dining-room, she found it; and to be + this. + </p> + <p> + But I had better not to have had a copy of it, as far as I know: for, + determined as I was before upon my operations, it instantly turned all my + resolutions in her favour. Yet I would give something to be convinced that + she did not pop it into her drawer before the wench, in order for me to + see it; and perhaps (if I were to take notice of it) to discover whether + Dorcas, according to Miss Howe's advice, were most my friend, or her's. + </p> + <p> + The very suspicion of this will do her no good: for I cannot bear to be + artfully dealt with. People love to enjoy their own peculiar talents in + monopoly, as arguments against me in her behalf. But I know every tittle + thou canst say upon it. Spare therefore thy wambling nonsense, I desire + thee; and leave this sweet excellence and me to our fate: that will + determine for us, as it shall please itself: for as Cowley says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + An unseen hand makes all our moves: + And some are great, and some are small; + Some climb to good, some from great fortunes fall: + Some wise men, and some fools we call: + Figures, alas! of speech!—For destiny plays us all. +</pre> + <p> + But, after all, I am sorry, almost sorry (for how shall I do to be quite + sorry, when it is not given to me to be so?) that I cannot, until I have + made further trials, resolve upon wedlock. + </p> + <p> + I have just read over again this intended answer to my proposals: and how + I adore her for it! + </p> + <p> + But yet; another yet!—She has not given it or sent it to me.—It + is not therefore her answer. It is not written for me, though to me. + </p> + <p> + Nay, she has not intended to send it to me: she has even torn it, perhaps + with indignation, as thinking it too good for me. By this action she + absolutely retracts it. Why then does my foolish fondness seek to + establish for her the same merit in my heart, as if she avowed it? + Pr'ythee, dear Belford, once more, leave us to our fate; and do not thou + interpose with thy nonsense, to weaken a spirit already too squeamish, and + strengthen a conscience that has declared itself of her party. + </p> + <p> + Then again, remember thy recent discoveries, Lovelace! Remember her + indifference, attended with all the appearance of contempt and hatred. + View her, even now, wrapt up in reserve and mystery; meditating plots, as + far as thou knowest, against the sovereignty thou hast, by right of + conquest, obtained over her. Remember, in short, all thou hast threatened + to remember against this insolent beauty, who is a rebel to the power she + has listed under. + </p> + <p> + But yet, how dost thou propose to subdue thy sweet enemy!—Abhorred + be force, be the necessity of force, if that can be avoided! There is no + triumph in force—no conquest over the will—no prevailing by + gentle degrees over the gentle passions!—force is the devil! + </p> + <p> + My cursed character, as I have often said, was against me at setting out + —Yet is she not a woman? Cannot I find one yielding or but half- + yielding moment, if she do not absolutely hate me? + </p> + <p> + But with what can I tempt her?—RICHES she was born to, and despises, + knowing what they are. JEWELS and ornaments, to a mind so much a jewel, + and so richly set, her worthy consciousness will not let her value. LOVE + —if she be susceptible of love, it seems to be so much under the + direction of prudence, that one unguarded moment, I fear, cannot be + reasonably hoped for: and so much VIGILANCE, so much apprehensiveness, + that her fears are ever aforehand with her dangers. Then her LOVE or + VIRTUE seems to be principle, native principle, or, if not native, so + deeply rooted, that its fibres have struck into her heart, and, as she + grew up, so blended and twisted themselves with the strings of life, that + I doubt there is no separating of the one without cutting the others + asunder. + </p> + <p> + What then can be done to make such a matchless creature get over the first + tests, in order to put her to the grand proof, whether once overcome, she + will not be always overcome? + </p> + <p> + Our mother and her nymphs say, I am a perfect Craven, and no Lovelace: and + so I think. But this is no simpering, smiling charmer, as I have found + others to be, when I have touched upon affecting subjects at a distance; + as once or twice I have tried to her, the mother introducing them (to make + sex palliate the freedom to sex) when only we three together. She is above + the affectation of not seeming to understand you. She shows by her + displeasure, and a fierceness not natural to her eye, that she judges of + an impure heart by an impure mouth, and darts dead at once even the embryo + hopes of an encroaching lover, however distantly insinuated, before the + meaning hint can dawn into double entendre. + </p> + <p> + By my faith, Jack, as I sit gazing upon her, my whole soul in my eyes, + contemplating her perfections, and thinking, when I have seen her easy and + serene, what would be her thoughts, did she know my heart as well as I + know it; when I behold her disturbed and jealous, and think of the + justness of her apprehensions, and that she cannot fear so much as there + is room for her to fear; my heart often misgives me. + </p> + <p> + And must, think I, O creature so divinely excellent, and so beloved of my + soul, those arms, those encircling arms, that would make a monarch happy, + be used to repel brutal force; all their strength, unavailingly perhaps, + exerted to repel it, and to defend a person so delicately framed? Can + violence enter into the heart of a wretch, who might entitle himself to + all her willing yet virtuous love, and make the blessings he aspireth + after, her duty to confer?—Begone, villain-purposes! Sink ye all to + the hell that could only inspire ye! And I am then ready to throw myself + at her feet, to confess my villainous designs, to avow my repentance, and + put it out of my power to act unworthily by such an excellence. + </p> + <p> + How then comes it, that all these compassionate, and, as some would call + them, honest sensibilities go off!—Why, Miss Howe will tell thee: + she says, I am the devil.—By my conscience, I think he has at + present a great share in me. + </p> + <p> + There's ingenuousness!—How I lay myself open to thee!—But + seest thou not, that the more I say against myself, the less room there is + for thee to take me to task?—O Belford, Belford! I cannot, cannot + (at least at present) I cannot marry. + </p> + <p> + Then her family, my bitter enemies—to supple to them, or if I do + not, to make her as unhappy as she can be from my attempts—— + </p> + <p> + Then does she not love them too much, me too little? + </p> + <p> + She now seems to despise me: Miss Howe declares, that she really does + despise me. To be despised by a WIFE—What a thought is that!—To + be excelled by a WIFE too, in every part of praise-worthy knowledge!—To + take lessons, to take instructions, from a WIFE!—More than despise + me, she herself has taken time to consider whether she does not hate me:— + I hate you, Lovelace, with my whole heart, said she to me but yesterday! + My soul is above thee, man!—Urge me not to tell thee how sincerely I + think my soul above thee!—How poor indeed was I then, even in my own + heart!—So visible a superiority, to so proud a spirit as mine!—And + here from below, from BELOW indeed! from these women! I am so goaded on—— + </p> + <p> + Yet 'tis poor too, to think myself a machine in the hands of such + wretches.—I am no machine.—Lovelace, thou art base to thyself, + but to suppose thyself a machine. + </p> + <p> + But having gone thus far, I should be unhappy, if after marriage, in the + petulance of ill humour, I had it to reproach myself, that I did not try + her to the utmost. And yet I don't know how it is, but this lady, the + moment I come into her presence, half-assimilates me to her own virtue.— + Once or twice (to say nothing of her triumph over me on Sunday night) I + was prevailed upon to fluster myself, with an intention to make some + advances, which, if obliged to recede, I might lay upon raised spirits: + but the instant I beheld her, I was soberized into awe and reverence: and + the majesty of her even visible purity first damped, and then + extinguished, my double flame. + </p> + <p> + What a surprisingly powerful effect, so much and so long in my power she! + so instigated by some of her own sex, and so stimulated by passion I!— + How can this be accounted for in a Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + But what a heap of stuff have I written!—How have I been run away + with! —By what?—Canst thou say by what?—O thou lurking + varletess CONSCIENCE! —Is it thou that hast thus made me of party + against myself?—How camest thou in?—In what disguise, thou + egregious haunter of my more agreeable hours?—Stand thou, with fate, + but neuter in this controversy; and, if I cannot do credit to human + nature, and to the female sex, by bringing down such an angel as this to + class with and adorn it, (for adorn it she does in her very foibles,) then + I am all your's, and never will resist you more. + </p> + <p> + Here I arose. I shook myself. The window was open. Always the troublesome + bosom-visiter, the intruder, is flown.—I see it yet!—And now + it lessens to my aching eye!—And now the cleft air is closed after + it, and it is out of sight!—and once more I am + </p> + <p> + ROBERT LOVELACE. <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 23. + </p> + <p> + Well did I, and but just in time to conclude to have done with Mrs. + Fretchville and the house: for here Mennell has declared, that he cannot + in conscience and honour go any farther.—He would not for the world + be accessory to the deceiving of such a lady!—I was a fool to let + either you or him see her; for ever since ye have both had scruples, which + neither would have had, were a woman to have been in the question. + </p> + <p> + Well, I can't help it! + </p> + <p> + Mennell has, however, though with some reluctance, consented to write me a + letter, provided I will allow it to be the last step he shall take in this + affair. + </p> + <p> + I presumed, I told him, that if I could cause Mrs. Fretchville's woman to + supply his place, he would have no objection to that. + </p> + <p> + None, he says—But is it not pity— + </p> + <p> + A pitiful fellow! Such a ridiculous kind of pity his, as those silly souls + have, who would not kill an innocent chicken for the world; but when + killed to their hands, are always the most greedy devourers of it. + </p> + <p> + Now this letter gives the servant the small-pox: and she has given it to + her unhappy vapourish lady. Vapourish people are perpetual subjects for + diseases to work upon. Name but the malady, and it is theirs in a moment. + Ever fitted for inoculation.—The physical tribe's milch-cows. + —A vapourish or splenetic patient is a fiddle for the doctors; and + they are eternally playing upon it. Sweet music does it make them. All + their difficulty, except a case extraordinary happens, (as poor Mrs. + Fretchville's, who has realized her apprehensions,) is but to hold their + countenance, while their patient is drawing up a bill of indictment + against himself;—and when they have heard it, proceed to punish—the + right word for prescribe. Why should they not, when the criminal has + confessed his guilt?—And punish they generally do with a vengeance. + </p> + <p> + Yet, silly toads too, now I think of it. For why, when they know they + cannot do good, may they not as well endeavour to gratify, as to nauseate, + the patient's palate? + </p> + <p> + Were I a physician, I'd get all the trade to myself: for Malmsey, and + Cyprus, and the generous product of the Cape, a little disguised, should + be my principal doses: as these would create new spirits, how would the + revived patient covet the physic, and adore the doctor! + </p> + <p> + Give all the paraders of the faculty whom thou knowest this hint.—There + could but one inconvenience arise from it. The APOTHECARIES would find + their medicines cost them something: but the demand for quantities would + answer that: since the honest NURSE would be the patient's taster; + perpetually requiring repetitions of the last cordial julap. + </p> + <p> + Well, but to the letter—Yet what need of further explanation after + the hints in my former? The widow can't be removed; and that's enough: and + Mennell's work is over; and his conscience left to plague him for his own + sins, and not another man's: and, very possibly, plague enough will give + him for those. + </p> + <p> + This letter is directed, To Robert Lovelace, Esq. or, in his absence, to + his Lady. She has refused dining with me, or seeing me: and I was out when + it came. She opened it: so is my lady by her own consent, proud and saucy + as she is. + </p> + <p> + I am glad at my heart that it came before we entirely make up. She would + else perhaps have concluded it to be contrived for a delay: and now, + moreover, we can accommodate our old and new quarrels together; and that's + contrivance, you know. But how is her dear haughty heart humbled to what + it was when I knew her first, that she can apprehend any delays from me; + and have nothing to do but to vex at them! + </p> + <p> + I came in to dinner. She sent me down the letter, desiring my excuse for + opening it.—Did it before she was aware. Lady-pride, Belford! + recollection, then retrogradation! + </p> + <p> + I requested to see her upon it that moment.—But she desires to + suspend our interview till morning. I will bring her to own, before I have + done with her, that she can't see me too often. + </p> + <p> + My impatience was so great, on an occasion so unexpected, that I could not + help writing to tell her, 'how much vexed I was at the accident: but that + it need not delay my happy day, as that did not depend upon the house. + [She knew that before, she'll think; and so did I.] And as Mrs. + Fretchville, by Mr. Mennell, so handsomely expressed her concern upon it, + and her wishes that it could suit us to bear with the unavoidable delay, I + hoped, that going down to The Lawn for two or three of the summer- months, + when I was made the happiest of men, would be favourable to all round.' + </p> + <p> + The dear creature takes this incident to heart, I believe: She has sent + word to my repeated request to see her notwithstanding her denial, that + she cannot till the morning: it shall be then at six o'clock, if I please! + </p> + <p> + To be sure I do please! + </p> + <p> + Can see her but once a day now, Jack! + </p> + <p> + Did I tell thee, that I wrote a letter to my cousin Montague, wondering + that I heard not from Lord M. as the subject was so very interesting! In + it I acquainted her with the house I was about taking; and with Mrs. + Fretchville's vapourish delays. + </p> + <p> + I was very loth to engage my own family, either man or woman, in this + affair; but I must take my measures securely: and already they all think + as bad of me as they well can. You observe by my Lord M.'s letter to + yourself, that the well-manner'd peer is afraid I should play this + admirable creature one of my usual dog's tricks. + </p> + <p> + I have received just now an answer from Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + Charlot i'n't well. A stomach disorder! + </p> + <p> + No wonder a girl's stomach should plague her. A single woman; that's it. + When she has a man to plague, it will have something besides itself to + prey upon. Knowest thou not moreover, that man is the woman's sun; woman + is the man's earth?—How dreary, how desolate, the earth, that the + suns shines not upon! + </p> + <p> + Poor Charlotte! But I heard she was not well: that encouraged me to write + to her; and to express myself a little concerned, that she had not, of her + own accord, thought of a visit in town to my charmer. + </p> + <p> + Here follows a copy of her letter. Thou wilt see by it that every little + monkey is to catechise me. They all depend upon my good-nature. + </p> + <p> + M. HALL, MAY 22. DEAR COUSIN, + </p> + <p> + We have been in daily hope for a long time, I must call it, of hearing + that the happy knot was tied. My Lord has been very much out of order: and + yet nothing would serve him, but he would himself write an answer to your + letter. It was the only opportunity he should ever have, perhaps, to throw + in a little good advice to you, with the hope of its being of any + signification; and he has been several hours in a day, as his gout would + let him, busied in it. It wants now only his last revisal. He hopes it + will have the greater weight with you, as it appear all in his own + hand-writing. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Mr. Lovelace, his worthy heart is wrapt up in you. I wish you + loved yourself but half as well. But I believe too, that if all the family + loved you less, you would love yourself more. + </p> + <p> + His Lordship has been very busy, at the times he could not write, in + consulting Pritchard about those estates which he proposes to transfer to + you on the happy occasion, that he may answer your letter in the most + acceptable manner; and show, by effects, how kindly he takes your + invitation. I assure you he is mighty proud of it. + </p> + <p> + As for myself, I am not at all well, and have not been for some weeks + past, with my old stomach-disorder. I had certainly else before now have + done myself the honour you wonder I have not done myself. Lady Betty, who + would have accompanied me, (for we have laid it all out,) has been + exceedingly busy in her law-affair; her antagonist, who is actually on the + spot, having been making proposals for an accommodation. But you may + assure yourself, that when our dear relation-elect shall be entered upon + the new habitation you tell me of, we will do ourselves the honour of + visiting her; and if any delay arises from the dear lady's want of + courage, (which considering her man, let me tell you, may very well be,) + we will endeavour to inspire her with it, and be sponsors for you;—for, + cousin, I believe you have need to be christened over again before you are + entitled to so great a blessing. What think you? + </p> + <p> + Just now, my Lord tells me, he will dispatch a man on purpose with his + letter to-morrow: so I needed not to have written. But now I have, let it + go; and by Empson, who sets out directly on his return to town. + </p> + <p> + My best compliments, and sister's, to the most deserving lady in the world + [you will need no other direction to the person meant] conclude me + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate cousin and servant, CHARL. MONTAGUE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Thou seest how seasonably this letter comes. I hope my Lord will write + nothing but what I may show to my beloved. I have actually sent her up + this letter of Charlotte's, and hope for happy effects from it. + </p> + <p> + R.L. *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[The Lady, in her next letter, gives Miss Howe an account of what passed + between Mr. Lovelace and herself. She resents his behaviour with her + usual dignity. But when she comes to mention Mr. Mennell's letter, + she re-urges Miss Howe to perfect her scheme for her deliverance; + being resolved to leave him. But, dating again, on his sending up to + her Miss Montague's letter, she alters her mind, and desires her to + suspend for the present her application to Mrs. Townsend.] +</pre> + <p> + I had begun, says she, to suspect all he had said of Mrs. Fretchville and + her house; and even Mr. Mennell himself, though so well-appearing a man. + But now that I find Mr. Lovelace has apprized his relations of his intent + to take it, and had engaged some of the ladies to visit me there, I could + hardly forbear blaming myself for censuring him as capable of so vile an + imposture. But may he not thank himself for acting so very unaccountably, + and taking such needlessly-awry steps, as he had done, embarrassing, as I + told him, his own meanings, if they were good? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER L + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, MAY 24. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He gives his friend an account of their interview that morning; and of + the happy effects of his cousin Montague's letter in his favour. Her + reserves, however, he tells him, are not absolutely banished. But + this he imputes to form.] +</pre> + <p> + It is not in the power of woman, says he, to be altogether sincere on + these occasions. But why?—Do they think it so great a disgrace to be + found out to be really what they are? + </p> + <p> + I regretted the illness of Mrs. Fretchville; as the intention I had to fix + her dear self in the house before the happy knot was tied, would have set + her in that independence in appearance, as well as fact, which was + necessary to show to all the world that her choice was free; and as the + ladies of my family would have been proud to make their court to her + there, while the settlements and our equipages were preparing. But, on any + other account, there was no great matter in it; since when my happy day + was over, we could, with so much convenience, go down to The Lawn, to my + Lord M.'s, and to Lady Sarah's or Lady Betty's, in turn; which would give + full time to provide ourselves with servants and other accommodations. + </p> + <p> + How sweetly the charmer listened! + </p> + <p> + I asked her, if she had had the small-pox? + </p> + <p> + Ten thousand pounds the worse in my estimation, thought I, if she has not; + for no one of her charming graces can I dispense with. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas always a doubtful point with her mother and Mrs. Norton, she owned. + But although she was not afraid of it, she chose not unnecessarily to rush + into places where it was. + </p> + <p> + Right, thought I—Else, I said, it would not have been amiss for her + to see the house before she went into the country; for if she liked it + not, I was not obliged to have it. + </p> + <p> + She asked, if she might take a copy of Miss Montague's letter? + </p> + <p> + I said, she might keep the letter itself, and send it to Miss Howe, if she + pleased; for that, I suppose, was her intention. + </p> + <p> + She bowed her head to me. + </p> + <p> + There, Jack! I shall have her courtesy to me by-and-by, I question not. + What a-devil had I to do, to terrify the sweet creature by my termagant + projects!—Yet it was not amiss, I believe, to make her afraid of me. + She says, I am an unpolite man. And every polite instance from such a one + is deemed a favour. + </p> + <p> + Talking of the settlements, I told her I had rather that Pritchard + (mentioned by my cousin Charlotte) had not been consulted on this + occasion. Pritchard, indeed, was a very honest man; and had been for a + generation in the family; and knew of the estates, and the condition of + them, better than either my Lord or myself: but Pritchard, like other old + men, was diffident and slow; and valued himself upon his skill as a + draughts-man; and, for the sake of the paltry reputation, must have all + his forms preserved, were an imperial crown to depend upon his dispatch. + </p> + <p> + I kissed her unrepulsing hand no less than five times during this + conversation. Lord, Jack, how my generous heart ran over!—She was + quite obliging at parting.—She in a manner asked me leave to retire; + to reperuse Charlotte's letter.—I think she bent her knees to me; + but I won't be sure.—How happy might we both have been long ago, had + the dear creature been always as complaisant to me! For I do love respect, + and, whether I deserve it or not, always had it, till I knew this proud + beauty. + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, are we in a train, or the deuce is in it. Every + fortified town has its strong and its weak place. I have carried on my + attacks against the impregnable parts. I have not doubt but I shall either + shine or smuggle her out of her cloke, since she and Miss Howe have + intended to employ a smuggler against me.—All we wait for now is my + Lord's letter. + </p> + <p> + But I had like to have forgot to tell thee, that we have been not a little + alarmed, by some inquiries that have been made after me and my beloved by + a man of good appearance; who yesterday procured a tradesman in the + neighbourhood to send for Dorcas: of whom he asked several questions + relating to us; particularly (as we boarded and lodged in one house) + whether we were married? + </p> + <p> + This has given my beloved great uneasiness. And I could not help observing + upon it, to her, how right a thing it was that we had given out below that + we were married. The inquiry, most probably, I said, was from her + brother's quarter; and now perhaps that our marriage was owned, we should + hear no more of his machinations. The person, it seems, was curious to + know the day that the ceremony was performed. But Dorcas refused to give + him any other particulars than that we were married; and she was the more + reserved, as he declined to tell her the motives of his inquiry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LI + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MAY 24. + </p> + <p> + The devil take this uncle of mine! He has at last sent me a letter which I + cannot show, without exposing the head of our family for a fool. A + confounded parcel of pop-guns has he let off upon me. I was in hopes he + had exhausted his whole stock of this sort in his letter to you.—To + keep it back, to delay sending it, till he had recollected all this + farrago of nonsense—confound his wisdom of nations, if so much of it + is to be scraped together, in disgrace of itself, to make one egregious + simpleton! —But I am glad I am fortified with this piece of flagrant + folly, however; since, in all human affairs, the convenient are so + mingled, that there is no having the one without the other. + </p> + <p> + I have already offered the bill enclosed in it to my beloved; and read to + her part of the letter. But she refused the bill: and, as I am in cash + myself, I shall return it. She seemed very desirous to peruse the whole + letter. And when I told her, that, were it not for exposing the writer, I + would oblige her, she said, it would not be exposing his Lordship to show + it to her; and that she always preferred the heart to the head. I knew her + meaning; but did not thank her for it. + </p> + <p> + All that makes for me in it I will transcribe for her—yet, hang it, + she shall have the letter, and my soul with it, for one consenting kiss. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + She has got the letter from me without the reward. Deuce take me, if I had + the courage to propose the condition. A new character this of bashfulness + in thy friend. I see, that a truly modest woman may make even a confident + man keep his distance. By my soul, Belford, I believe, that nine women in + ten, who fall, fall either from their own vanity or levity, or for want of + circumspection and proper reserves. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I did intend to take my reward on her returning a letter so favourable to + us both. But she sent it to me, sealed up, by Dorcas. I might have thought + that there were two or three hints in it, that she would be too nice + immediately to appear to. I send it to thee; and here will stop, to give + thee time to read it. Return it as soon as thou hast perused it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LII + </h2> + <p> + LORD M. TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 23. + </p> + <p> + It is a long lane that has no turning.—Do not despise me for my + proverbs —you know I was always fond of them; and if you had been so + too, it would have been the better for you, let me tell you. I dare swear, + the fine lady you are so likely to be soon happy with, will be far from + despising them; for I am told, that she writes well, and that all her + letters are full of sentences. God convert you! for nobody but he and this + lady can. + </p> + <p> + I have no manner of doubt but that you will marry, as your father, and all + your ancestors, did before you: else you would have had no title to be my + heir; nor can your descendants have any title to be your's, unless they + are legitimate; that's worth your remembrance, Sir!—No man is always + a fool, every man is sometimes.—But your follies, I hope, are now at + an end. + </p> + <p> + I know, you have vowed revenge against this fine lady's family: but no + more of that, now. You must look upon them all as your relations; and + forgive and forget. And when they see you make a good husband and a good + father, [which God send, for all our sakes!] they will wonder at their + nonsensical antipathy, and beg your pardon: But while they think you a + vile fellow, and a rake, how can they either love you, or excuse their + daughter? + </p> + <p> + And methinks I could wish to give a word of comfort to the lady, who, + doubtless, must be under great fears, how she shall be able to hold in + such a wild creature as you have hitherto been. I would hint to her, that + by strong arguments, and gentle words, she may do any thing with you; for + though you are apt to be hot, gentle words will cool you, and bring you + into the temper that is necessary for your cure. + </p> + <p> + Would to God, my poor lady, your aunt, who is dead and gone, had been a + proper patient for the same remedy! God rest her soul! No reflections upon + her memory! Worth is best known by want! I know her's now; and if I had + went first, she would by this time have known mine. + </p> + <p> + There is great wisdom in that saying, God send me a friend, that may tell + me of my faults: if not, an enemy, and he will. Not that I am your enemy; + and that you well know. The more noble any one is, the more humble; so + bear with me, if you would be thought noble.—Am I not your uncle? + and do I not design to be better to you than your father could be? Nay, I + will be your father too, when the happy day comes; since you desire it: + and pray make my compliments to my dear niece; and tell her, I wonder much + that she has so long deferred your happiness. + </p> + <p> + Pray let her know as that I will present HER (not you) either my + Lancashire seat or The Lawn in Hertfordshire, and settle upon her a + thousand pounds a year penny-rents; to show her, that we are not a family + to take base advantages: and you may have writings drawn, and settle as + you will.—Honest Pritchard has the rent-roll of both these estates; + and as he has been a good old servant, I recommend him to your lady's + favour. I have already consulted him: he will tell you what is best for + you, and most pleasing to me. + </p> + <p> + I am still very bad with my gout, but will come in a litter, as soon as + the day is fixed; it would be the joy of my heart to join your hands. And, + let me tell you, if you do not make the best of husbands to so good a + young lady, and one who has had so much courage for your sake, I will + renounce you; and settle all I can upon her and her's by you, and leave + you out of the question. + </p> + <p> + If any thing be wanting for your further security, I am ready to give it; + though you know, that my word has always been looked upon as my bond. And + when the Harlowes know all this, let us see whether they are able to + blush, and take shame to themselves. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah and Lady Betty want only to know the day, to make all the + country round them blaze, and all their tenants mad. And, if any one of + mine be sober upon the occasion, Pritchard shall eject him. And, on the + birth of the first child, if a son, I will do something more for you, and + repeat all our rejoicings. + </p> + <p> + I ought indeed to have written sooner. But I knew, that if you thought me + long, and were in haste as to your nuptials, you would write and tell me + so. But my gout was very troublesome: and I am but a slow writer, you + know, at best: for composing is a thing that, though formerly I was very + ready at it, (as my Lord Lexington used to say,) yet having left it off a + great while, I am not so now. And I chose, on this occasion, to write all + out of my own hand and memory; and to give you my best advice; for I may + never have such an opportunity again. You have had [God mend you!] a + strange way of turning your back upon all I have said: this once, I hope, + you will be more attentive to the advice I give you for your own good. + </p> + <p> + I have still another end; nay, two other ends. + </p> + <p> + The one was, that now you are upon the borders of wedlock, as I may say, + and all your wild oats will be sown, I would give you some instructions as + to your public as well as private behaviour in life; which, intending you + so much good as I do, you ought to hear; and perhaps would never have + listened to, on any less extraordinary occasion. + </p> + <p> + The second is, that your dear lady-elect (who is it seems herself so fine + and so sententious a writer) will see by this, that it is not our faults, + nor for want of the best advice, that you was not a better man than you + have hitherto been. + </p> + <p> + And now, in a few words, for the conduct I would wish you to follow in + public, as well as in private, if you would think me worthy of advising. + —It shall be short; so be not uneasy. + </p> + <p> + As to the private life: Love your lady as she deserves. Let your actions + praise you. Be a good husband; and so give the lie to all your enemies; + and make them ashamed of their scandals. And let us have pride in saying, + that Miss Harlowe has not done either herself or family any discredit by + coming among us. Do this; and I, and Lady Sarah, and Lady Betty, will love + you for ever. + </p> + <p> + As to your public conduct: This as follows is what I could wish: but I + reckon your lady's wisdom will put us both right—no disparagement, + Sir; since, with all your wit, you have not hitherto shown much wisdom, + you know. + </p> + <p> + Get into parliament as soon as you can: for you have talons to make a + great figure there. Who so proper to assist in making new holding laws, as + those whom no law in being could hold? + </p> + <p> + Then, for so long as you will give attendance in St. Stephen's chapel— + its being called a chapel, I hope, will not disgust you: I am sure I have + known many a riot there—a speaker has a hard time of it! but we + peers have more decorum—But what was I going to say?—I must go + back. + </p> + <p> + For so long as you will give your attendance in parliament, for so long + will you be out of mischief; out of private mischief, at least: and may + St. Stephen's fate be your's, if you wilfully do public mischief! + </p> + <p> + When a new election comes, you will have two or three boroughs, you know, + to choose out of:—but if you stay till then, I had rather you were + for the shire. + </p> + <p> + You will have interest enough, I am sure; and being so handsome a man, the + women will make their husbands vote for you. + </p> + <p> + I shall long to read your speeches. I expect you will speak, if occasion + offer, the very first day. You want no courage, and think highly enough of + yourself, and lowly enough of every body else, to speak on all occasions. + </p> + <p> + As to the methods of the house, you have spirit enough, I fear, to be too + much above them: take care of that.—I don't so much fear your want + of good-manners. To men, you want no decency, if they don't provoke you: + as to that, I wish you would only learn to be as patient of contradiction + from others, as you would have other people be to you. + </p> + <p> + Although I would not have you to be a courtier; neither would I have you + to be a malcontent. I remember (for I have it down) what my old friend + Archibald Hutcheson said; and it was a very good saying—(to Mr. + Secretary Craggs, I think it was)—'I look upon an administration, as + entitled to every vote I can with good conscience give it; for a house of + commons should not needlessly put drags upon the wheels of government: and + when I have not given it my vote, it was with regret: and, for my + country's sake, I wished with all my heart the measure had been such as I + could have approved.' + </p> + <p> + And another saying he had, which was this: 'Neither can an opposition, + neither can a ministry, be always wrong. To be a plumb man therefore with + either, is an infallible mark, that that man must mean more and worse than + he will own he does mean.' + </p> + <p> + Are these sayings bad, Sir? are they to be despised?—Well, then, why + should I be despised for remembering them, and quoting them, as I love to + do? Let me tell you, if you loved my company more than you do, you would + not be the worse for it. I may say so without any vanity; since it is + other men's wisdom, and not my own, that I am so fond of. + </p> + <p> + But to add a word or two more on this occasion; and I may never have such + another; for you must read this through—Love honest men, and herd + with them, in the house and out of the house; by whatever names they be + dignified or distinguished: Keep good men company, and you shall be out of + their number. But did I, or did I not, write this before?—Writing, + at so many different times, and such a quantity, one may forget. + </p> + <p> + You may come in for the title when I am dead and gone—God help me!—So + I would have you keep an equilibrium. If once you get the name of being a + fine speaker, you may have any thing: and, to be sure, you have naturally + a great deal of elocution; a tongue that would delude an angel, as the + women say—to their sorrow, some of them, poor creatures!—A + leading man in the house of commons is a very important character; because + that house has the giving of money: and money makes the mare to go; ay, + and queens and kings too, sometimes, to go in a manner very different from + what they might otherwise choose to go, let me tell you. + </p> + <p> + However, methinks, I would not have you take a place neither—it will + double your value, and your interest, if it be believed, that you will + not: for, as you will then stand in no man's way, you will have no envy; + but pure sterling respect; and both sides will court you. + </p> + <p> + For your part, you will not want a place, as some others do, to piece up + their broken fortunes. If you can now live reputably upon two thousand + pounds a year, it will be hard if you cannot hereafter live upon seven or + eight—less you will not have, if you oblige me; as now, by marrying + so fine a lady, very much you will—and all this, and above Lady + Betty's and Lady Sarah's favours! What, in the name of wonder, could + possibly possess the proud Harlowes!—That son, that son of theirs!—But, + for his dear sister's sake, I will say no more of him. + </p> + <p> + I never was offered a place myself: and the only one I would have taken, + had I been offered it, was master of the buckhounds; for I loved hunting + when I was young; and it carries a good sound with it for us who live in + the country. Often have I thought of that excellent old adage; He that + eats the king's goose, shall be choked with his feathers. I wish to the + Lord, this was thoroughly considered by place-hunters! it would be better + for them, and for their poor families. + </p> + <p> + I could say a great deal more, and all equally to the purpose. But really + I am tired; and so I doubt are you. And besides, I would reserve something + for conversation. + </p> + <p> + My nieces Montague, and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty, join in compliments to + my niece that is to be. If she would choose to have the knot tied among + us, pray tell her that we shall all see it securely done: and we will make + all the country ring and blaze for a week together. But so I believe I + said before. + </p> + <p> + If any thing further may be needful toward promoting your reciprocal + felicity, let me know it; and how you order about the day; and all that. + The enclosed bill is very much at your service. 'Tis payable at sight, as + whatever else you may have occasion for shall be. + </p> + <p> + So God bless you both; and make things as convenient to my gout as you + can; though, be it whenever it will, I will hobble to you; for I long to + see you; and still more to see my niece; and am (in expectation of that + happy opportunity) + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate Uncle M. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY, MAY 25. + </p> + <p> + Thou seest, Belford, how we now drive before the wind.—The dear + creature now comes almost at the first word, whenever I desire the honour + of her company. I told her last night, that apprehending delay from + Pritchard's slowness, I was determined to leave it to my Lord to make his + compliments in his own way; and had actually that afternoon put my + writings into the hands of a very eminent lawyer, Counsellor Willians, + with directions for him to draw up settlements from my own estate, and + conformably to those of my mother! which I put into his hands at the same + time. It had been, I assured her, no small part of my concern, that her + frequent displeasure, and our mutual misapprehensions, had hindered me + from advising with her before on this subject. Indeed, indeed, my dearest + life, said I, you have hitherto afforded me but a very thorny courtship. + </p> + <p> + She was silent. Kindly silent. For well know I, that she could have + recriminated upon me with a vengeance. But I was willing to see if she + were not loth to disoblige me now. I comforted myself, I said, with the + hopes that all my difficulties were now over; and that every past + disobligations would be buried in oblivion. + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, I have actually deposited these writings with Counsellor + Williams; and I expect the draughts in a week at farthest. So shall be + doubly armed. For if I attempt, and fail, these shall be ready to throw + in, to make her have patience with me till I can try again. + </p> + <p> + I have more contrivances still in embryo. I could tell thee of an hundred, + and yet hold another hundred in petto, to pop in as I go along, to excite + thy surprize, and to keep up thy attention. Nor rave thou at me; but, if + thou art my friend, think of Miss Howe's letters, and of her smuggling + scheme. All owing to my fair captive's informations incitements. Am I not + a villain, a fool, a Beelzebub, with them already? —Yet no harm done + by me, nor so much as attempted? + </p> + <p> + Every thing of this nature, the dear creature answered, (with a downcast + eye, and a blushing cheek,) she left to me. + </p> + <p> + I proposed my Lord's chapel for the celebration, where we might have the + presence of Lady Betty, Lady Sarah, and my two cousins Montague. + </p> + <p> + She seemed not to favour a public celebration! and waved this subject for + the present. I doubted not but she would be as willing as I to decline a + public wedding; so I pressed not this matter farther just then. + </p> + <p> + But patterns I actually produced; and a jeweller was to bring as this day + several sets of jewels for her choice. But the patterns she would not + open. She sighed at the mention of them: the second patterns, she said, + that had been offered to her:* and very peremptorily forbid the jeweller's + coming; as well as declined my offer of causing my mother's to be new-set, + at least for the present. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. I. Letter XLI. + </p> + <p> + I do assure thee, Belford, I was in earnest in all this. My whole estate + is nothing to me, put in competition with her hoped-for favour. + </p> + <p> + She then told me, that she had put into writing her opinion of my general + proposals; and there had expressed her mind as to clothes and jewels: but + on my strange behaviour to her (for no cause that she knew of) on Sunday + night, she had torn the paper in two. + </p> + <p> + I earnestly pressed her to let me be favoured with a sight of this paper, + torn as it was. And, after some hesitation, she withdrew, and sent it to + me by Dorcas. + </p> + <p> + I perused it again. It was in a manner new to me, though I had read it so + lately: and, by my soul, I could hardly stand it. An hundred admirable + creatures I called her to myself. But I charge thee, write not a word to + me in her favour, if thou meanest her well; for, if I spare her, it must + be all ex mero motu. + </p> + <p> + You may easily suppose, when I was re-admitted to her presence, that I ran + over in her praises, and in vows of gratitude, and everlasting love. But + here's the devil; she still receives all I say with reserve; or if it be + not with reserve, she receives it so much as her due, that she is not at + all raised by it. Some women are undone by praise, by flattery. I myself, + a man, am proud of praise. Perhaps thou wilt say, that those are most + proud of it who least deserve it; as those are of riches and grandeur who + are not born to either. I own, that to be superior to these foibles, it + requires a soul. Have I not then a soul?—Surely, I have.— Let + me then be considered as an exception to the rule. + </p> + <p> + Now have I foundation to go upon in my terms. My Lord, in the exuberance + of his generosity, mentions a thousand pounds a year penny-rents. This I + know, that were I to marry this lady, he would rather settle upon her all + he has a mind to settle, than upon me. He has even threatened, that if I + prove not a good husband to her, he will leave all he can at his death + from me to her. Yet considers not that a woman so perfect can never be + displeased with her husband but to his disgrace: For who will blame her? + —Another reason why a LOVELACE should not wish to marry a CLARISSA. + </p> + <p> + But what a pretty fellow of an uncle is this foolish peer, to think of + making a wife independent of her emperor, and a rebel of course; yet + smarted himself for an error of this kind! + </p> + <p> + My beloved, in her torn paper, mentions but two hundred pounds a year, for + her separate use. I insisted upon her naming a larger sum. She said it + might be three; and I, for fear she should suspect very large offers, + named only five; but added the entire disposal of all arrears in her + father's hands for the benefit of Mrs. Norton, or whom she pleased. + </p> + <p> + She said, that the good woman would be uneasy if any thing more than a + competency were done for her. She was more for suiting all her + dispositions of this kind, she said, to the usual way of life of the + person. To go beyond it, was but to put the benefited upon projects, or to + make them awkward in a new state; when they might shine in that to which + they were accustomed. And to put it into so good a mother's power to give + her son a beginning in his business at a proper time; yet to leave her + something for herself, to set her above want, or above the necessity of + taking back from her child what she had been enabled to bestow upon him; + would be the height of such a worthy parent's ambition. + </p> + <p> + Here's prudence! Here's judgment in so young a creature! How do I hate the + Harlowes for producing such an angel!—O why, why, did she refuse my + sincere address to tie the knot before we came to this house! + </p> + <p> + But yet, what mortifies my pride is, that this exalted creature, if I were + to marry her, would not be governed in her behaviour to me by love, but by + generosity merely, or by blind duty; and had rather live single, than be + mine. + </p> + <p> + I cannot bear this. I would have the woman whom I honour with my name, if + ever I confer this honour upon any, forego even her superior duties for + me. I would have her look after me when I go out as far as she can see me, + as my Rosebud after her Johnny; and meet me at my return with rapture. I + would be the subject of her dreams, as well as of her waking thoughts. I + would have her think every moment lost that is not passed with me: sing to + me, read to me, play to me when I pleased: no joy so great as in obeying + me. When I should be inclined to love, overwhelm me with it; when to be + serious or solitary, if apprehensive of intrusion, retiring at a nod; + approaching me only if I smiled encouragement: steal into my presence with + silence; out of it, if not noticed, on tiptoe. Be a lady easy to all my + pleasures, and valuing those most who most contributed to them; only + sighing in private, that it was not herself at the time. Thus of old did + the contending wives of the honest patriarchs; each recommending her + handmaid to her lord, as she thought it would oblige him, and looking upon + the genial product as her own. + </p> + <p> + The gentle Waller says, women are born to be controuled. Gentle as he was, + he knew that. A tyrant husband makes a dutiful wife. And why do the sex + love rakes, but because they know how to direct their uncertain wills, and + manage them? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Another agreeable conversation. The day of days the subject. As to fixing + a particular one, that need not be done, my charmer says, till the + settlements are completed. As to marrying at my Lord's chapel, the Ladies + of my family present, that would be making a public affair of it; and the + dear creature observed, with regret, that it seemed to be my Lord's + intention to make it so. + </p> + <p> + It could not be imagined, I said, but that his Lordship's setting out in a + litter, and coming to town, as well as his taste for glare, and the joy he + would take to see me married at last, and to her dear self, would give it + as much the air of a public marriage as if the ceremony were performed at + his own chapel, all the Ladies present. + </p> + <p> + I cannot, said she, endure the thoughts of a public day. It will carry + with it an air of insult upon my whole family. And for my part, if my Lord + will not take it amiss, [and perhaps he will not, as the motion came not + from himself, but from you, Mr. Lovelace,] I will very willingly dispense + with his Lordship's presence; the rather, as dress and appearance will + then be unnecessary; for I cannot bear to think of decking my person while + my parents are in tears. + </p> + <p> + How excellent this! Yet do not her parents richly deserve to be in tears? + </p> + <p> + See, Belford, with so charming a niceness, we might have been a long time + ago upon the verge of the state, and yet found a great deal to do before + we entered into it. + </p> + <p> + All obedience, all resignation—no will but her's. I withdrew, and + wrote directly to my Lord; and she not disapproving of it, I sent it away. + The purport as follows; for I took no copy. + </p> + <p> + 'That I was much obliged to his Lordship for his intended goodness to me + on an occasion the most solemn of my life. That the admirable Lady, whom + he so justly praised, thought his Lordship's proposals in her favour too + high. That she chose not to make a public appearance, if, without + disobliging my friends, she could avoid it, till a reconciliation with her + own could be effected. That although she expressed a grateful sense of his + Lordship's consent to give her to me with his own hand; yet, presuming + that the motive to this kind intention was rather to do her honour, than + it otherwise would have been his own choice, (especially as travelling + would be at this time so inconvenient to him,) she thought it advisable to + save his Lordship trouble on this occasion; and hoped he would take as + meant her declining the favour. + </p> + <p> + 'That The Lawn will be most acceptable to us both to retire to; and the + rather, as it is so to his Lordship. + </p> + <p> + 'But, if he pleases, the jointure may be made from my own estate; leaving + to his Lordship's goodness the alternative.' + </p> + <p> + I conclude with telling him, 'that I had offered to present the Lady his + Lordship's bill; but on her declining to accept of it (having myself no + present occasion for it) I return it enclosed, with my thanks, &c.' + </p> + <p> + And is not this going a plaguy length? What a figure should I make in + rakish annals, if at last I should be caught in my own gin? + </p> + <p> + The sex may say what they will, but a poor innocent fellow had need to + take great care of himself, when he dances upon the edge of the + matrimonial precipice. Many a faint-hearted man, when he began to jest, or + only designed to ape gallantry, has been forced into earnest, by being + over-prompt, and taken at his word, not knowing how to own that he meant + less than the lady supposed he meant. I am the better enabled to judge + that this must have been the case of many a sneaking varlet; because I, + who know the female world as well as any man in it of my standing, am so + frequently in doubt of myself, and know not what to make of the matter. + </p> + <p> + Then these little sly rogues, how they lie couchant, ready to spring upon + us harmless fellows the moment we are in their reach!—When the ice + is once broken for them, how swiftly can they make to port!—Mean + time, the subject they can least speak to, they most think of. Nor can you + talk of the ceremony, before they have laid out in their minds how it is + all to be. Little saucy-faced designers! how first they draw themselves + in, then us! + </p> + <p> + But be all these things as they will, Lord M. never in his life received + so handsome a letter as this from his nephew + </p> + <p> + LOVELACE. *** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[The Lady, after having given to Miss Howe on the particulars contained + in Mr. Lovelace's last letter, thus expresses herself:] +</pre> + <p> + A principal consolation arising from these favourable appearances, is, + that I, who have now but one only friend, shall most probably, and if it + be not my own fault, have as many new ones as there are persons in Mr. + Lovelace's family; and this whether Mr. Lovelace treat me kindly or not. + And who knows, but that, by degrees, those new friends, by their rank and + merit, may have weight enough to get me restored to the favour of my + relations? till which can be effected, I shall not be tolerably easy. + Happy I never expect to be. Mr. Lovelace's mind and mine are vastly + different; different in essentials. + </p> + <p> + But as matters are at present circumstanced, I pray you, my dear friend, + to keep to yourself every thing that might bring discredit to him, if + revealed.—Better any body expose a man than a wife, if I am to be + his; and what is said by you will be thought to come from me. + </p> + <p> + It shall be my constant prayer, that all the felicities which this world + can afford may be your's: and that the Almighty will never suffer you nor + your's, to the remotest posterity, to want such a friend as my Anna Howe + has been to + </p> + <p> + Her CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LIV + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + And now, that my beloved seems secure in my net, for my project upon the + vixen Miss Howe, and upon her mother: in which the officious prancer + Hickman is to come in for a dash. + </p> + <p> + But why upon her mother, methinks thou askest, who, unknown to herself, + has only acted, by the impulse, through thy agent Joseph Leman, upon the + folly of old Tony the uncle? + </p> + <p> + No matter for that: she believes she acts upon her own judgment: and + deserves to be punished for pretending to judgment, when she has none.— + Every living soul, but myself, I can tell thee, shall be punished, that + treats either cruelly or disrespectfully so adored a lady.—What a + plague! is it not enough that she is teased and tormented in person by me? + </p> + <p> + I have already broken the matter to our three confederates; as a supposed, + not a resolved-on case indeed. And yet they know, that with me, in a piece + of mischief, execution, with its swiftest feel, is seldom three paces + behind projection, which hardly ever limps neither. + </p> + <p> + MOWBRAY is not against it. It is a scheme, he says, worthy of us: and we + have not done any thing for a good while that has made a noise. + </p> + <p> + BELTON, indeed, hesitates a little, because matters go wrong between him + and his Thomasine; and the poor fellow has not the courage to have his + sore place probed to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + TOURVILLE has started a fresh game, and shrugs his shoulders, and should + not choose to go abroad at present, if I please. For I apprehend that + (from the nature of the project) there will be a kind of necessity to + travel, till all is blown over. + </p> + <p> + To ME, one country is as good as another; and I shall soon, I suppose, + choose to quit this paltry island; except the mistress of my fate will + consent to cohabit at home; and so lay me under no necessity of surprising + her into foreign parts. TRAVELLING, thou knowest, gives the sexes charming + opportunities of being familiar with one another. A very few days and + nights must now decide all matters betwixt me and my fair inimitable. + </p> + <p> + DOLEMAN, who can act in these causes only as chamber-counsel, will inform + us by pen and ink [his right hand and right side having not yet been + struck, and the other side beginning to be sensible] of all that shall + occur in our absence. + </p> + <p> + As for THEE, we had rather have thy company than not; for, although thou + art a wretched fellow at contrivance, yet art thou intrepid at execution. + But as thy present engagements make thy attendance uncertain, I am not for + making thy part necessary to our scheme; but for leaving thee to come + after us when abroad. I know thou canst not long live without us. + </p> + <p> + The project, in short, is this:—Mrs. Howe has an elder sister in the + Isle of Wight, who is lately a widow; and I am well informed, that the + mother and daughter have engaged, before the latter is married, to pay a + visit to this lady, who is rich, and intends Miss for her heiress; and in + the interim will make her some valuable presents on her approaching + nuptials; which, as Mrs. Howe, who loves money more than any thing but + herself, told one of my acquaintance, would be worth fetching. + </p> + <p> + Now, Jack, nothing more need be done, than to hire a little trim vessel, + which shall sail a pleasuring backward and forward to Portsmouth, + Spithead, and the Isle of Wight, for a week or fortnight before we enter + upon our parts of the plot. And as Mrs. Howe will be for making the best + bargain she can for her passage, the master of the vessel may have orders + (as a perquisite allowed him by his owners) to take what she will give: + and the master's name, be it what it will, shall be Ganmore on the + occasion; for I know a rogue of that name, who is not obliged to be of any + country, any more than we. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, we will imagine them on board. I will be there in disguise. + They know not any of ye four—supposing (the scheme so inviting) that + thou canst be one. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis plaguy hard, if we cannot find, or make a storm. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps they will be sea-sick: but whether they be or not, no doubt they + will keep their cabin. + </p> + <p> + Here will be Mrs. Howe, Miss Howe, Mr. Hickman, a maid, and a footman, I + suppose: and thus we will order it. + </p> + <p> + I know it will be hard weather: I know it will: and, before there can be + the least suspicion of the matter, we shall be in sight of Guernsey, + Jersey, Dieppe, Cherbourg, or any where on the French coast that it shall + please us to agree with the winds to blow us: and then, securing the + footman, and the women being separated, one of us, according to lots that + may be cast, shall overcome, either by persuasion or force, the maid + servant: that will be no hard task; and she is a likely wench, [I have + seen her often:] one, Mrs. Howe; nor can there be much difficulty there; + for she is full of health and life, and has been long a widow: another, + [that, says the princely lion, must be I!] the saucy daughter; who will be + much too frightened to make great resistance, [violent spirits, in that + sex, are seldom true spirits—'tis but where they can:] and after + beating about the coast for three or four days for recreation's sake, and + to make sure work, till we see our sullen birds begin to eat and sip, we + will set them all ashore where it will be most convenient; sell the + vessel, [to Mrs. Townsend's agents, with all my heart, or to some other + smugglers,] or give it to Ganmore; and pursue our travels, and tarry + abroad till all is hushed up. + </p> + <p> + Now I know thou wilt make difficulties, as it is thy way; while it is mine + to conquer them. My other vassals made theirs; and I condescended to + obviate them: as thus I will thine, first stating them for thee according + to what I know of thy phlegm. + </p> + <p> + What, in the first place, wilt thou ask, shall be done with Hickman? who + will be in full parade of dress and primness, in order to show the old + aunt what a devilish clever fellow of a nephew she is to have. + </p> + <p> + What!—I'll tell thee—Hickman, in good manners, will leave the + women in their cabin—and, to show his courage with his breeding, be + upon deck— + </p> + <p> + Well, and suppose he is!—Why then I hope it is easy for Ganmore, or + any body else, myself suppose in my pea-jacket and great watch coat, (if + any other make scruple to do it), while he stands in the way, gaping and + staring like a novice, to stumble against him, and push him overboard! + —A rich thought—is it not, Belford?—He is certainly + plaguy officious in the ladies' correspondence; and I am informed, plays + double between mother and daughter, in fear of both.—Dost not see + him, Jack?—I do— popping up and down, his wig and hat floating + by him; and paddling, pawing, and dashing, like a frighted mongrel—I + am afraid he never ventured to learn to swim. + </p> + <p> + But thou wilt not drown the poor fellow; wilt thou? + </p> + <p> + No, no!—that is not necessary to the project—I hate to do + mischiefs supererogatory. The skiff shall be ready to save him, while the + vessel keeps its course: he shall be set on shore with the loss of wig and + hat only, and of half his little wits, at the place where he embarked, or + any where else. + </p> + <p> + Well, but shall we not be in danger of being hanged for three such + enormous rapes, although Hickman should escape with only a bellyful of + sea-water? + </p> + <p> + Yes, to be sure, when caught—But is there any likelihood of that?— + Besides, have we not been in danger before now for worse facts? and what + is there in being only in danger?—If we actually were to appear in + open day in England before matters are made up, there will be greater + likelihood that these women will not prosecute that they will.—For + my own part, I should wish they may. Would not a brave fellow choose to + appear in court to such an arraignment, confronting women who would do + credit to his attempt? The country is more merciful in these cases, than + in any others: I should therefore like to put myself upon my country. + </p> + <p> + Let me indulge in a few reflections upon what thou mayest think the worst + that can happen. I will suppose that thou art one of us; and that all five + are actually brought to trial on this occasion: how bravely shall we enter + a court, I at the head of you, dressed out each man, as if to his wedding + appearance!—You are sure of all the women, old and young, of your + side.—What brave fellows!—what fine gentlemen!—There + goes a charming handsome man!—meaning me, to be sure!—who + could find in their hearts to hang such a gentleman as that? whispers one + lady, sitting perhaps on the right hand of the recorder: [I suppose the + scene to be in London:] while another disbelieves that any woman could + fairly swear against me. All will crowd after me: it will be each man's + happiness (if ye shall chance to be bashful) to be neglected: I shall be + found to be the greatest criminal; and my safety, for which the general + voice will be engaged, will be yours. + </p> + <p> + But then comes the triumph of triumphs, that will make the accused look + up, while the accusers are covered with confusion. + </p> + <p> + Make room there!—stand by!—give back!—One receiving a + rap, another an elbow, half a score a push a piece!— + </p> + <p> + Enter the slow-moving, hooded-faced, down-looking plaintiffs.— + </p> + <p> + And first the widow, with a sorrowful countenance, though half-veiled, + pitying her daughter more than herself. The people, the women especially, + who on this occasion will be five-sixths of the spectators, reproaching + her—You'd have the conscience, would you, to have five such brave + gentlemen as these hanged for you know not what? + </p> + <p> + Next comes the poor maid—who, perhaps, has been ravished twenty + times before; and had not appeared now, but for company-sake; mincing, + simpering, weeping, by turns; not knowing whether she should be sorry or + glad. + </p> + <p> + But every eye dwells upon Miss!—See, see, the handsome gentleman + bows to her! + </p> + <p> + To the very ground, to be sure, I shall bow; and kiss my hand. + </p> + <p> + See her confusion! see! she turns from him!—Ay! that's because it is + in open court, cries an arch one!—While others admire her—Ay! + that's a girl worth venturing one's neck for! + </p> + <p> + Then we shall be praised—even the judges, and the whole crowded + bench, will acquit us in their hearts! and every single man wish he had + been me! —the women, all the time, disclaiming prosecution, were the + case to be their own. To be sure, Belford, the sufferers cannot put half + so good a face upon the matter as we. + </p> + <p> + Then what a noise will this matter make!—Is it not enough, suppose + us moving from the prison to the sessions-house,* to make a noble heart + thump it away most gloriously, when such an one finds himself attended to + his trial by a parade of guards and officers, of miens and aspects warlike + and unwarlike; himself of their whole care, and their business! weapons in + their hands, some bright, some rusty, equally venerable for their + antiquity and inoffensiveness! others of more authoritative demeanour, + strutting before with fine painted staves! shoals of people following, + with a Which is he whom the young lady appears against?— Then, let + us look down, look up, look round, which way we will, we shall see all the + doors, the shops, the windows, the sign-irons, and balconies, (garrets, + gutters, and chimney-tops included,) all white-capt, black- hooded, and + periwigg'd, or crop-ear'd up by the immobile vulgus: while the floating + street-swarmers, who have seen us pass by at one place, run with + stretched-out necks, and strained eye-balls, a roundabout way, and elbow + and shoulder themselves into places by which we have not passed, in order + to obtain another sight of us; every street continuing to pour out its + swarms of late-comers, to add to the gathering snowball; who are content + to take descriptions of our persons, behaviour, and countenances, from + those who had the good fortune to have been in time to see us. + </p> + <p> + * Within these few years past, a passage has been made from the prison to + the sessions-house, whereby malefactors are carried into court without + going through the street. Lovelace's triumph on their supposed march shows + the wisdom of this alteration. + </p> + <p> + Let me tell thee, Jack, I see not why (to judge according to our + principles and practices) we should not be as much elated in our march, + were this to happen to us, as others may be upon any other the most mob- + attracting occasion—suppose a lord-mayor on his gawdy—suppose + a victorious general, or ambassador, on his public entry—suppose (as + I began with the lowest) the grandest parade that can be supposed, a + coronation—for, in all these, do not the royal guard, the heroic + trained-bands, the pendent, clinging throngs of spectators, with their + waving heads rolling to-and-fro from house-tops to house-bottoms and + street-ways, as I have above described, make the principal part of the + raree-show? + </p> + <p> + And let me ask thee, if thou dost not think, that either the mayor, the + ambassador, or the general would not make very pitiful figures on their + galas, did not the trumpets and tabrets call together the canaille to gaze + at them?—Nor perhaps should we be the most guilty heroes neither: + for who knows how the magistrate may have obtained his gold chain? while + the general probably returns from cutting of throats, and from murders, + sanctified by custom only.—Caesar, we are told,* had won, at the age + of fifty-six, when he was assassinated, fifty pitched battles, had taken + by assault above a thousand towns, and slain near 1,200,000 men; I suppose + exclusive of those who fell on his own side in slaying them. Are not you + and I, Jack, innocent men, and babes in swaddling-clothes, compared to + Caesar, and to his predecessor in heroism, Alexander, dubbed, for murders + and depredation, Magnus? + </p> + <p> + * Pliny gives this account, putting the number of men slain at 1,100,092. + See also Lipsius de Constandia. + </p> + <p> + The principal difference that strikes me in the comparison between us and + the mayor, the ambassador, the general, on their gawdies, is, that the mob + make a greater noise, a louder huzzaing, in the one case than the other, + which is called acclamation, and ends frequently in higher taste, by + throwing dead animals at one another, before they disperse; in which they + have as much joy, as in the former part of the triumph: while they will + attend us with all the marks of an awful or silent (at most only a + whispering) respect; their mouths distended, as if set open with gags, and + their voices generally lost in goggle-ey'd admiration. + </p> + <p> + Well, but suppose, after all, we are convicted; what have we to do, but in + time make over our estates, that the sheriffs may not revel in our spoils?—There + is no fear of being hanged for such a crime as this, while we have money + or friends.—And suppose even the worst, that two or three were to + die, have we not a chance, each man of us, to escape? The devil's in them, + if they'll hang five for ravishing three! + </p> + <p> + I know I shall get off for one—were it but for family sake: and + being a handsome fellow, I shall have a dozen or two young maidens, all + dressed in white, go to court to beg my life—and what a pretty show + they will make, with their white hoods, white gowns, white petticoats, + white scarves, white gloves, kneeling for me, with their white + handkerchiefs at their eyes, in two pretty rows, as his Majesty walks + through them and nods my pardon for their sakes!—And, if once + pardoned, all is over: for, Jack, in a crime of this nature there lies no + appeal, as in a murder. + </p> + <p> + So thou seest the worst that can happen, should we not make the grand tour + upon this occasion, but stay and take our trials. But it is most likely, + that they will not prosecute at all. If not, no risque on our side will be + run; only taking our pleasure abroad, at the worst; leaving friends tired + of us, in order, after a time, to return to the same friends endeared to + us, as we to them, by absence. + </p> + <p> + This, Jack, is my scheme, at the first running. I know it is capable of + improvement—for example: I can land these ladies in France; whip + over before they can get a passage back, or before Hickman can have + recovered his fright; and so find means to entrap my beloved on board—and + then all will be right; and I need not care if I were never to return to + England. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Memorandum, To be considered of—Whether, in order to complete my + vengeance, I cannot contrive to kidnap away either James Harlowe or + Solmes? or both? A man, Jack, would not go into exile for nothing. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LV + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + If, Belford, thou likest not my plot upon Miss Howe, I have three or four + more as good in my own opinion; better, perhaps, they will be in thine: + and so 'tis but getting loose from thy present engagement, and thou shalt + pick and choose. But as for thy three brethren, they must do as I would + have them: and so, indeed, must thou—Else why am I your general? But + I will refer this subject to its proper season. Thou knowest, that I never + absolutely conclude upon a project, till 'tis time for execution; and then + lightning strikes not quicker than I. + </p> + <p> + And now to the subject next my heart. + </p> + <p> + Wilt thou believe me, when I tell thee, that I have so many contrivances + rising up and crowding upon me for preference, with regard to my Gloriana, + that I hardly know which to choose?—I could tell thee of no less + than six princely ones, any of which must do. But as the dear creature has + not grudged giving me trouble, I think I ought not, in gratitude, to spare + combustibles for her; but, on the contrary, to make her stare and stand + aghast, by springing three or four mines at once. + </p> + <p> + Thou remembrest what Shakespeare, in his Troilus and Cressida, makes + Hector, who, however, is not used to boast, say to Achilles in an + interview between them; and which, applied to this watchful lady, and to + the vexation she has given me, and to the certainty I now think I have of + subduing her, will run thus: supposing the charmer before me; and I + meditating her sweet person from head to foot: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henceforth, O watchful fair-one, guard thee well: + For I'll not kill thee there! nor there! nor there! + But, by the zone that circles Venus' waist, + I'll kill thee ev'ry where; yea, o'er and o'er.— + Thou, wisest Belford, pardon me this brag: + Her watchfulness draws folly from my lips; + But I'll endeavour deeds to match the words, + Or I may never—— +</pre> + <p> + Then I imagine thee interposing to qualify my impatience, as Ajax did to + Achilles: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ——Do not chafe thee, cousin: + ——And let these threats alone, + Till accident or purpose bring thee to it. +</pre> + <p> + All that vexes me, in the midst of my gloried-in devices, is, that there + is a sorry fellow in the world, who has presumed to question, whether the + prize, when obtained, is worthy of the pains it costs me: yet knows, with + what patience and trouble a bird-man will spread an acre of ground with + gins and snares; set up his stalking horse, his glasses; plant his decoy- + birds, and invite the feathered throng by his whistle; and all his prize + at last (the reward of early hours, and of a whole morning's pains) only a + simple linnet. + </p> + <p> + To be serious, Belford, I must acknowledge, that all our pursuits, from + childhood to manhood, are only trifles of different sort and sizes, + proportioned to our years and views: but then is not a fine woman the + noblest trifle, that ever was or could be obtained by man?—And to + what purpose do we say obtained, if it be not in the way we wish for?—If + a man is rather to be her prize, than she his? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, what dost think? + </p> + <p> + That thou art a cursed fellow, if— + </p> + <p> + If—no if's—but I shall be very sick to-morrow. I shall, + 'faith. + </p> + <p> + Sick!—Why sick? What a-devil shouldst thou be sick for? + </p> + <p> + For more good reasons than one, Jack. + </p> + <p> + I should be glad to hear but one.—Sick, quotha! Of all thy roguish + inventions I should not have thought of this. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps thou thinkest my view to be, to draw the lady to my bedside. + That's a trick of three or four thousand years old; and I should find it + much more to my purpose, if I could get to her's. However, I'll condescend + to make thee as wise as myself. + </p> + <p> + I am excessively disturbed about this smuggling scheme of Miss Howe. I + have no doubt, that my fair-one, were I to make an attempt, and miscarry, + will fly from me, if she can. I once believed she loved me: but now I + doubt whether she does or not: at least, that it is with such an ardour, + as Miss Howe calls it, as will make her overlook a premeditated fault, + should I be guilty of one. + </p> + <p> + And what will being sick do for thee? + </p> + <p> + Have patience. I don't intend to be so very bad as Dorcas shall represent + me to be. But yet I know I shall reach confoundedly, and bring up some + clotted blood. To be sure, I shall break a vessel: there's no doubt of + that: and a bottle of Eaton's styptic shall be sent for; but no doctor. If + she has humanity, she will be concerned. But if she has love, let it have + been pushed ever so far back, it will, on this occasion, come forward, and + show itself; not only in her eye, but in every line of her sweet face. + </p> + <p> + I will be very intrepid. I will not fear death, or any thing else. I will + be sure of being well in an hour or two, having formerly found great + benefit by this astringent medicine, on occasion of an inward bruise by a + fall from my horse in hunting, of which perhaps this malady may be the + remains. And this will show her, that though those about me may make the + most of it, I do not; and so can have no design in it. + </p> + <p> + Well, methinks thou sayest, I begin to think tolerably of this device. + </p> + <p> + I knew thou wouldst, when I explained myself. Another time prepare to + wonder; and banish doubt. + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, I shall expect, that she will show some concern at the + broken vessel, as it may be attended with fatal effects, especially to one + so fiery in his temper as I have the reputation to be thought to be: and + the rather, as I shall calmly attribute the accident to the harasses and + doubts under which I have laboured for some time past. And this will be a + further proof of my love, and will demand a grateful return— + </p> + <p> + And what then, thou egregious contriver? + </p> + <p> + Why then I shall have the less remorse, if I am to use a little violence: + for can she deserve compassion, who shows none? + </p> + <p> + And what if she shows a great deal of concern? + </p> + <p> + Then shall I be in hopes of building on a good foundation. Love hides a + multitude of faults, and diminishes those it cannot hide. Love, when + acknowledged, authorizes freedom; and freedom begets freedom; and I shall + then see how far I can go. + </p> + <p> + Well but, Lovelace, how the deuce wilt thou, with that full health and + vigour of constitution, and with that bloom in thy face, make any body + believe thou art sick? + </p> + <p> + How!—Why, take a few grains of ipecacuanha; enough to make me reach + like a fury. + </p> + <p> + Good!—But how wilt thou manage to bring up blood, and not hurt + thyself? + </p> + <p> + Foolish fellow! Are there no pigeons and chickens in every poulterer's + shop? + </p> + <p> + Cry thy mercy. + </p> + <p> + But then I will be persuaded by Mrs. Sinclair, that I have of late + confined myself too much; and so will have a chair called, and be carried + to the Park; where I will try to walk half the length of the Mall, or so; + and in my return, amuse myself at White's or the Cocoa. + </p> + <p> + And what will this do? + </p> + <p> + Questioning again!—I am afraid thou'rt an infidel, Belford—Why + then shall I not know if my beloved offers to go out in my absence?—And + shall I not see whether she receives me with tenderness at my return? But + this is not all: I have a foreboding that something affecting will happen + while I am out. But of this more in its place. + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, wilt thou, or wilt thou not, allow, that it is a right + thing to be sick?—Lord, Jack, so much delight do I take in my + contrivances, that I shall be half sorry when the occasion for them is + over; for never, never, shall I again have such charming exercise for my + invention. + </p> + <p> + Mean time these plaguy women are so impertinent, so full of reproaches, + that I know not how to do any thing but curse them. And then, truly, they + are for helping me out with some of their trite and vulgar artifices. + Sally, particularly, who pretends to be a mighty contriver, has just now, + in an insolent manner, told me, on my rejecting her proffered aids, that I + had no mind to conquer; and that I was so wicked as to intend to marry, + though I would not own it to her. + </p> + <p> + Because this little devil made her first sacrifice at my altar, she thinks + she may take any liberty with me: and what makes her outrageous at times + is, that I have, for a long time, studiously, as she says, slighted her + too-readily-offered favours: But is it not very impudent in her to think, + that I will be any man's successor? It is not come to that neither. This, + thou knowest, was always my rule—Once any other man's, and I know + it, and never more mine. It is for such as thou, and thy brethren, to take + up with harlots. I have been always aiming at the merit of a first + discoverer. + </p> + <p> + The more devil I, perhaps thou wilt say, to endeavour to corrupt the + uncorrupted. + </p> + <p> + But I say, not; since, hence, I have but very few adulteries to answer + for. + </p> + <p> + One affair, indeed, at Paris, with a married lady [I believe I never told + thee of it] touched my conscience a little: yet brought on by the spirit + of intrigue, more than by sheer wickedness. I'll give it thee in brief: + </p> + <p> + 'A French marquis, somewhat in years, employed by his court in a public + function at that of Madrid, had put his charming young new-married wife + under the controul and wardship, as I may say, of his insolent sister, an + old prude. + </p> + <p> + 'I saw the lady at the opera. I liked her at first sight, and better at + second, when I knew the situation she was in. So, pretending to make my + addresses to the prude, got admittance to both. + </p> + <p> + 'The first thing I had to do, was to compliment the prude into shyness by + complaints of shyness: next, to take advantage of the marquise's + situation, between her husband's jealousy and his sister's arrogance; and + to inspire her with resentment; and, as I hoped, with a regard to my + person. The French ladies have no dislike to intrigue. + </p> + <p> + 'The sister began to suspect me: the lady had no mind to part with the + company of the only man who had been permitted to visit her; and told me + of her sister's suspicions. I put her upon concealing the prude, as if + unknown to me, in a closet in one of her own apartments, locking her in, + and putting the key in her own pocket: and she was to question me on the + sincerity of my professions to her sister, in her sister's hearing. + </p> + <p> + 'She complied. My mistress was locked up. The lady and I took our seats. I + owned fervent love, and made high professions: for the marquise put it + home to me. The prude was delighted with what she heard. + </p> + <p> + 'And how dost thou think it ended?—I took my advantage of the lady + herself, who durst not for her life cry out; and drew her after me to the + next apartment, on pretence of going to seek her sister, who all the time + was locked up in the closet.' + </p> + <p> + No woman ever gave me a private meeting for nothing; my dearest Miss + Harlowe excepted. + </p> + <p> + 'My ingenuity obtained my pardon: the lady being unable to forbear + laughing throughout the whole affair, to find both so uncommonly tricked; + her gaoleress her prisoner, safe locked up, and as much pleased as either + of us.' + </p> + <p> + The English, Jack, do not often out-wit the French. + </p> + <p> + 'We had contrivances afterwards equally ingenious, in which the lady, the + ice once broken [once subdued, always subdued] co-operated. But a more + tender tell-tale revealed the secret—revealed it, before the + marquise could cover the disgrace. The sister was inveterate; the husband + irreconcilable; in every respect unfit for a husband, even for a French + one—made, perhaps, more delicate to these particulars by the customs + of a people among whom he was then resident, so contrary to those of his + own countrymen. She was obliged to throw herself into my protection—nor + thought herself unhappy in it, till childbed pangs seized her: then + penitence, and death, overtook her the same hour!' + </p> + <p> + Excuse a tear, Belford!—She deserved a better fate! What hath such a + vile inexorable husband to answer for!—The sister was punished + effectually—that pleases me on reflection—the sister + effectually punished!—But perhaps I have told thee this story + before. + </p> + <p> + END OF VOL.4 + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10462 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |