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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:12 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:12 -0700 |
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diff --git a/10799-h/10799-h.htm b/10799-h/10799-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ffde32 --- /dev/null +++ b/10799-h/10799-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14344 @@ +<?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> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Clarissa Harlowe, Volume 5 (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 10799 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <h3> + or the + </h3> + <h2> + HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Volume V. (of Nine Volumes) + </h3> + <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_0001"> THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE </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 XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> LETTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> LETTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> LETTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> LETTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> LETTER XXVIII </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> + <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 /> <br /> LETTER I. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> An agreeable + airing with the lady. Delightfully easy she. Obsequiously <br /> respectful + he. Miss Howe's plot now no longer his terror. Gives the <br /> particulars + of their agreeable conversation while abroad. <br /> LETTER II. From the + same.— <br /> An account of his ipecacuanha plot. Instructs Dorcas + how to act surprise <br /> and terror. Monosyllables and trisyllables to + what likened. Politeness <br /> lives not in a storm. Proclamation criers. + The lady now sees she loves <br /> him. Her generous tenderness for him. He + has now credit for a new <br /> score. Defies Mrs. Townsend. <br /> LETTER + III. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Acknowledged tenderness for + Lovelace. Love for a man of errors <br /> punishable. <br /> LETTER IV. + Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Suspicious inquiry after him and the + lady by a servant in livery from one <br /> Captain Tomlinson. Her terrors + on the occasion. His alarming <br /> management. She resolves not to stir + abroad. He exults upon her not <br /> being willing to leave him. <br /> + LETTER V. VI. From the same.— <br /> Arrival of Captain Tomlinson, + with a pretended commission from Mr. John <br /> Harlowe to set on foot a + general reconciliation, provided he can be <br /> convinced that they are + actually married. Different conversations on this <br /> occasion.—The + lady insists that the truth be told to Tomlinson. She <br /> carries her + point through to the disappointment of one of his private <br /> views. He + forms great hopes of success from the effects of his <br /> ipecacuanha + contrivance. <br /> LETTER VII. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> He makes + such a fair representation to Tomlinson of the situation between <br /> him + and the lady, behaves so plausibly, and makes an overture so <br /> + generous, that she is all kindness and unreserved to him. Her affecting + <br /> exultation on her amended prospects. His unusual sensibility upon + it. <br /> Reflection on the good effects of education. Pride an excellent + <br /> substitute to virtue. <br /> LETTER VIII. From the same.— <br /> + Who Tomlinson is. Again makes Belford object, in order to explain his + <br /> designs by answering the objections. John Harlowe a sly sinner. + Hard- <br /> hearted reasons for giving the lady a gleam of joy. + Illustrated by a <br /> story of two sovereigns at war. <br /> Extracts from + Clarissa's letter to Miss Howe. She rejoices in her <br /> present + agreeable prospects. Attributes much to Mr. Hickman. Describes <br /> + Captain Tomlinson. Gives a character of Lovelace, [which is necessary to + <br /> be attended to: especially by those who have thought favourably of + him <br /> for some of his liberal actions, and hardly of her for the + distance she <br /> at first kept him at.] <br /> LETTER IX. Lovelace to + Belford.— <br /> Letter from Lord M. His further arts and + precautions. His happy day <br /> promised to be soon. His opinion of the + clergy, and of going to church. <br /> She pities every body who wants + pity. Loves every body. He owns he <br /> should be the happiest of men, + could he get over his prejudices against <br /> matrimony. Draughts of + settlements. Ludicrously accounts for the reason <br /> why she refuses to + hear them read to her. Law and gospel two different <br /> things. Sally + flings her handkerchief in his face. <br /> LETTER X. From the same.— + <br /> Has made the lady more than once look about her. She owns that he is + <br /> more than indifferent to her. Checks him with sweetness of temper + for <br /> his encroaching freedoms. Her proof of true love. He ridicules + marriage <br /> purity. Severely reflects upon public freedoms between men + and their <br /> wives. Advantage he once made upon such an occasion. Has + been after a <br /> license. Difficulty in procuring one. Great faults and + great virtues <br /> often in the same person. He is willing to believe + that women have no <br /> souls. His whimsical reasons. <br /> LETTER XI. + Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Almost despairs of succeeding (as he had + hoped) by love and gentleness. <br /> Praises her modesty. His encroaching + freedoms resented by her. The <br /> woman, he observes, who resents not + initiatory freedoms, must be lost. <br /> He reasons, in his free way, upon + her delicacy. Art of the Eastern <br /> monarchs. <br /> LETTER XII. From + the same.— <br /> A letter from Captain Tomlinson makes all up. Her + uncle Harlowe's <br /> pretended proposal big with art and plausible + delusion. She acquiesces <br /> in it. He writes to the pretended + Tomlinson, on an affecting hint of <br /> her's, requesting that her uncle + Harlowe would, in person, give his niece <br /> to him; or permit Tomlinson + to be his proxy on the occasion.—And now for <br /> a little of mine, + he says, which he has ready to spring. <br /> LETTER XIII. Belford to + Lovelace.— <br /> Again earnestly expostulates with him in the lady's + favour. Remembers <br /> and applauds the part she bore in the conversation + at his collation. The <br /> frothy wit of libertines how despicable. + Censures the folly, the <br /> weakness, the grossness, the unpermanency of + sensual love. Calls some of <br /> his contrivances trite, stale, and poor. + Beseeches him to remove her <br /> from the vile house. How many dreadful + stories could the horrid Sinclair <br /> tell the sex! Serious reflections + on the dying state of his uncle. <br /> LETTER XIV. Lovelace to Belford.— + <br /> Cannot yet procure a license. Has secured a retreat, if not victory. + <br /> Defends in anger the simplicity of his inventive contrivances. + Enters <br /> upon his general defence, compared with the principles and + practices of <br /> other libertines. Heroes and warlike kings worse men + than he. Epitome <br /> of his and the lady's story after ten years' + cohabitation. Caution to <br /> those who would censure him. Had the sex + made virtue a recommendation to <br /> their favour, he says, he should + have had a greater regard to his morals <br /> than he has had. <br /> + LETTER XV. From the same.— <br /> Preparative to his little mine, as + he calls it. Loves to write to the <br /> moment. Alarm begins. Affectedly + terrified. <br /> LETTER XVI. From the same.— <br /> The lady frighted + out of her bed by dreadful cries of fire. She awes him <br /> into decency. + On an extorted promise of forgiveness, he leaves her. <br /> Repenting, he + returns; but finds her door fastened. What a triumph has <br /> her sex + obtained by her virtue! But how will she see him next morning, <br /> as he + has given her. <br /> LETTER XVII. Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> + Dialogue with Clarissa, the door between them. Her letter to him. She + <br /> will not see him for a week. <br /> LETTER XVIII. From the same.— + <br /> Copies of letters that pass between them. Goes to the commons to try + to <br /> get the license. She shall see him, he declares, on his return. + Love <br /> and compassion hard to be separated. Her fluctuating reasons on + their <br /> present situation. Is jealous of her superior qualities. Does + justice <br /> to her immovable virtue. <br /> LETTER XIX. From the same.— + <br /> The lady escaped. His rage. Makes a solemn vow of revenge, if once + more <br /> he gets her into his power. His man Will. is gone in search of + her. His <br /> hopes; on what grounded. He will advertise her. Describes + her dress. <br /> Letter left behind her. Accuses her (that is to say, + LOVELACE accuses <br /> her,) of niceness, prudery, affectation. <br /> + LETTER XX. From the same.— <br /> A letter from Miss Howe to Clarissa + falls into his hands; which, had it <br /> come to her's, would have laid + open and detected all his designs. In it <br /> she acquits Clarissa of + prudery, coquetry, and undue reserve. Admires, <br /> applauds, blesses her + for the example she has set for her sex, and for <br /> the credit she has + done it, by her conduct in the most difficult <br /> situations. <br /> + [This letter may be considered as a kind of summary of Clarissa's trials, + <br /> her persecutions, and exemplary conduct hitherto; and of Mr. + Lovelace's <br /> intrigues, plots, and views, so far as Miss Howe could be + supposed to <br /> know them, or to guess at them.] <br /> A letter from + Lovelace, which farther shows the fertility of his <br /> contriving + genius. <br /> LETTER XXI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— <br /> Informs her + of Lovelace's villany, and of her escape. Her only concern, <br /> what. + The course she intends to pursue. <br /> LETTER XXII. Lovelace to Belford.— + <br /> Exults on hearing, from his man Will., that the lady has refuged + herself <br /> at Hampstead. Observations in a style of levity on some + passages in the <br /> letter she left behind her. Intimates that Tomlinson + is arrived to aid <br /> his purposes. The chariot is come; and now, + dressed like a bridegroom, <br /> attended by a footman she never saw, he + is already, he says, at <br /> Hampstead. <br /> LETTER XXIII. XXIV. + Lovelace to Belford.— <br /> Exults on his contrivances.—By + what means he gets into the lady's <br /> presence at Mrs. Moore's. Her + terrors, fits, exclamations. His <br /> plausible tales to Mrs. Moore and + Miss Rawlins. His intrepid behaviour <br /> to the lady. Copies of letters + from Tomlinson, and of pretended ones <br /> from his own relations, + calculated to pacify and delude her. <br /> LETTER XXV. XXVI. From the + same.— <br /> His farther arts, inventions, and intrepidity. She puts + home questions <br /> to him. 'Ungenerous and ungrateful she calls him. He + knows not the <br /> value of the heart he had insulted. He had a plain + path before him, <br /> after he had tricked her out of her father's house! + But that now her <br /> mind was raised above fortune, and above him.' His + precautionary <br /> contrivances. <br /> LETTER XXVII. XXVIII. XXX. XXXI. + XXXII. From the same.— <br /> Character of widow Bevis. Prepossesses + the women against Miss Howe. <br /> Leads them to think she is in love with + him. Apt himself to think so; <br /> and why. Women like not novices; and + why. Their vulgar aphorism <br /> animadverted on. Tomlinson arrives. + Artful conversation between them. <br /> Miss Rawlins's prudery. His forged + letter in imitation of Miss Howe's, <br /> No. IV. Other contrivances to + delude the lady, and attach the women to <br /> his party. <br /> LETTER + XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. From the same.— <br /> Particulars of + several interesting conversations between himself, <br /> Tomlinson, and + the lady. Artful management of the two former. Her noble <br /> spirit. He + tells Tomlinson before her that he never had any proof of <br /> affection + from her. She frankly owns the regard she once had for him. <br /> 'He had + brought her,' she tells Tomlinson and him, 'more than once to own <br /> it + to him. Nor did his own vanity, she was sure, permit him to doubt of <br /> + it. He had kept her soul in suspense an hundred times.' Both men <br /> + affected in turn by her noble behaviour, and great sentiments. Their <br /> + pleas, prayers, prostrations, to move her to relent. Her distress. <br /> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h1> + <h3> + VOLUME FIVE + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY EVENING. + </p> + <p> + Just returned from an airing with my charmer, complied with after great + importunity. She was attended by the two nymphs. They both topt their + parts; kept their eyes within bounds; made moral reflections now-and- + then. O Jack! what devils are women, when all tests are got over, and we + have completely ruined them! + </p> + <p> + The coach carried us to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill; back to + Hampstead to the Upper-Flask: there, in compliment to the nymphs, my + beloved consented to alight, and take a little repast. Then home early by + Kentish-town. + </p> + <p> + Delightfully easy she, and so respectful and obliging I, all the way, and + as we walked out upon the heath, to view the variegated prospects which + that agreeable elevation affords, that she promised to take now-and-then a + little excursion with me. I think, Miss Howe, I think, said I to myself, + every now-and-then as we walked, that thy wicked devices are superceded. + </p> + <p> + But let me give thee a few particulars of our conversation in the + circumrotation we took, while in the coach—She had received a letter + from Miss Howe yesterday, I presumed? + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. How happy should I think myself to be admitted into + their correspondence? I would joyfully make an exchange of communications. + </p> + <p> + So, though I hoped not to succeed by her consent, [and little did she + think I had so happily in part succeeded without it,] I thought it not + amiss to urge for it, for several reasons: among others, that I might + account to her for my constant employment at my pen; in order to take off + her jealousy, that she was the subject of thy correspondence and mine: and + that I might justify my secrecy and uncommunicativeness by her own. + </p> + <p> + I proceeded therefore—That I loved familiar-letter-writing, as I had + more than once told her, above all the species of writing: it was writing + from the heart, (without the fetters prescribed by method or study,) as + the very word cor-respondence implied. Not the heart only; the soul was in + it. Nothing of body, when friend writes to friend; the mind impelling + sovereignly the vassal-fingers. It was, in short, friendship recorded; + friendship given under hand and seal; demonstrating that the parties were + under no apprehension of changing from time or accident, when they so + liberally gave testimonies, which would always be ready, on failure or + infidelity, to be turned against them.—For my own part, it was the + principal diversion I had in her absence; but for this innocent amusement, + the distance she so frequently kept me at would have been intolerable. + </p> + <p> + Sally knew my drift; and said, She had had the honour to see two or three + of my letters, and of Mr. Belford's; and she thought them the most + entertaining that she had ever read. + </p> + <p> + My friend Belford, I said, had a happy talent in the letter-writing way; + and upon all subjects. + </p> + <p> + I expected my beloved would have been inquisitive after our subject: but + (lying perdue, as I saw) not a word said she. So I touched upon this + article myself. + </p> + <p> + Our topics were various and diffuse: sometimes upon literary articles [she + was very attentive upon this]; sometimes upon the public entertainments; + sometimes amusing each other with the fruits of the different + correspondencies we held with persons abroad, with whom we had contracted + friendships; sometimes upon the foibles and perfections of our particular + friends; sometimes upon our own present and future hopes; sometimes aiming + at humour and raillery upon each other.—It might indeed appear to + savour of vanity, to suppose my letters would entertain a lady of her + delicacy and judgment: but yet I could not but say, that perhaps she would + be far from thinking so hardly of me as sometimes she had seemed to do, if + she were to see the letters which generally passed between Mr. Belford and + me [I hope, Jack, thou hast more manners, than to give me the lie, though + but in thy heart]. + </p> + <p> + She then spoke: after declining my compliment in such a manner, as only a + person can do, who deserved it, she said, For her part, she had always + thought me a man of sense [a man of sense, Jack! What a niggardly + praise!],—and should therefore hope, that, when I wrote, it exceeded + even my speech: for that it was impossible, be the letters written in as + easy and familiar a style as they would, but that they must have that + advantage from sitting down to write them which prompt speech could not + always have. She should think it very strange therefore, if my letters + were barren of sentiment; and as strange, if I gave myself liberties upon + premeditation, which could have no excuse at all, but from a + thoughtlessness, which itself wanted excuse.—But if Mr. Belford's + letters and mine were upon subjects so general, and some of them equally + (she presumed) instructive and entertaining, she could not but say, that + she should be glad to see any of them; and particularly those which Miss + Martin had seen and praised. + </p> + <p> + This was put close. + </p> + <p> + I looked at her, to see if I could discover any tincture of jealousy in + this hint; that Miss Martin had seen what I had not shown to her. But she + did not look it: so I only said, I should be very proud to show her not + only those, but all that passed between Mr. Belford and me; but I must + remind her, that she knew the condition. + </p> + <p> + No, indeed! with a sweet lip pouted out, as saucy as pretty; implying a + lovely scorn, that yet can only be lovely in youth so blooming, and beauty + so divinely distinguished. + </p> + <p> + How I long to see such a motion again! Her mouth only can give it. + </p> + <p> + But I am mad with love—yet eternal will be the distance, at the rate + I go on: now fire, now ice, my soul is continually upon the hiss, as I may + say. In vain, however, is the trial to quench—what, after all, is + unquenchable. + </p> + <p> + Pr'ythee, Belford, forgive my nonsense, and my Vulcan-like metaphors—Did + I not tell thee, not that I am sick of love, but that I am mad with it? + Why brought I such an angel into such a house? into such company?—And + why do I not stop my ears to the sirens, who, knowing my aversion to + wedlock, are perpetually touching that string? + </p> + <p> + I was not willing to be answered so easily: I was sure, that what passed + between two such young ladies (friends so dear) might be seen by every + body: I had more reason than any body to wish to see the letters that + passed between her and Miss Howe; because I was sure they must be full of + admirable instruction, and one of the dear correspondents had deigned to + wish my entire reformation. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me as if she would look me through: I thought I felt eye- + beam, after eye-beam, penetrate my shivering reins.—But she was + silent. Nor needed her eyes the assistance of speech. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, a little recovering myself, I hoped that nothing unhappy had + befallen either Miss Howe or her mother. The letter of yesterday sent by a + particular hand: she opening it with great emotion—seeming to have + expected it sooner—were the reasons for my apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + We were then at Muswell-hill: a pretty country within the eye, to Polly, + was the remark, instead of replying to me. + </p> + <p> + But I was not so to be answered—I should expect some charming + subjects and characters from two such pens: I hoped every thing went on + well between Mr. Hickman and Miss Howe. Her mother's heart, I said, was + set upon that match: Mr. Hickman was not without his merits: he was what + the ladies called a SOBER man: but I must needs say, that I thought Miss + Howe deserved a husband of a very different cast! + </p> + <p> + This, I supposed, would have engaged her into a subject from which I could + have wiredrawn something:—for Hickman is one of her favourites— + why, I can't divine, except for the sake of opposition of character to + that of thy honest friend. + </p> + <p> + But she cut me short by a look of disapprobation, and another cool remark + upon a distant view; and, How far off, Miss Horton, do you think that + clump of trees may be? pointing out of the coach.—So I had done. + </p> + <p> + Here endeth all I have to write concerning our conversation on this our + agreeable airing. + </p> + <p> + We have both been writing ever since we came home. I am to be favoured + with her company for an hour, before she retires to rest. + </p> + <p> + All that obsequious love can suggest, in order to engage her tenderest + sentiments for me against tomorrow's sickness, will I aim at when we meet. + But at parting will complain of a disorder in my stomach. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + We have met. All was love and unexceptionable respect on my part. Ease and + complaisance on her's. She was concerned for my disorder. So sudden!—Just + as we parted! But it was nothing. I should be quite well by the morning. + </p> + <p> + Faith, Jack, I think I am sick already. Is it possible for such a giddy + fellow as me to persuade myself to be ill! I am a better mimic at this + rate than I wish to be. But every nerve and fibre of me is always ready to + contribute its aid, whether by health or by ailment, to carry a + resolved-on roguery into execution. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas has transcribed for me the whole letter of Miss Howe, dated Sunday, + May 14,* of which before I had only extracts. She found no other letter + added to that parcel: but this, and that which I copied myself in + character last Sunday whilst she was at church, relating to the smuggling + scheme,** are enough for me. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XXIX. ** Ibid. Letter XLII. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Dorcas tells me, that her lady has been removing her papers from the + mahogany chest into a wainscot box, which held her linen, and which she + put into her dark closet. We have no key of that at present. No doubt but + all her letters, previous to those I have come at, are in that box. Dorcas + is uneasy upon it: yet hopes that her lady does not suspect her; for she + is sure that she laid in every thing as she found it. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. COCOA-TREE, SATURDAY, MAY 27. + </p> + <p> + This ipecacuanha is a most disagreeable medicine. That these cursed + physical folks can find out nothing to do us good, but what would poison + the devil! In the other world, were they only to take physic, it would be + punishable enough of itself for a mis-spent life. A doctor at one elbow, + and an apothecary at the other, and the poor soul labouring under their + prescribed operations, he need no worse tormentors. + </p> + <p> + But now this was to take down my countenance. It has done it: for, with + violent reachings, having taken enough to make me sick, and not enough + water to carry it off, I presently looked as if I had kept my bed a + fortnight. Ill jesting, as I thought in the midst of the exercise, with + edge tools, and worse with physical ones. + </p> + <p> + Two hours it held me. I had forbid Dorcas to let her lady know any thing + of the matter; out of tenderness to her; being willing, when she knew my + prohibition, to let her see that I expected her to be concerned for me.— + </p> + <p> + Well, but Dorcas was nevertheless a woman, and she can whisper to her lady + the secret she is enjoined to keep! + </p> + <p> + Come hither, toad, [sick as the devil at the instant]; let me see what a + mixture of grief and surprize may be beat up together in thy puden-face. + </p> + <p> + That won't do. That dropt jaw, and mouth distended into the long oval, is + more upon the horrible than the grievous. + </p> + <p> + Nor that pinking and winking with thy odious eyes, as my charmer once + called them. + </p> + <p> + A little better that; yet not quite right: but keep your mouth closer. You + have a muscle or two which you have no command of, between your cheek-bone + and your lips, that should carry one corner of your mouth up towards your + crow's-foot, and that down to meet it. + </p> + <p> + There! Begone! Be in a plaguy hurry running up stair and down, to fetch + from the dining-room what you carry up on purpose to fetch, till motion + extraordinary put you out of breath, and give you the sigh natural. + </p> + <p> + What's the matter, Dorcas? + </p> + <p> + Nothing, Madam. + </p> + <p> + My beloved wonders she has not seen me this morning, no doubt; but is too + shy to say she wonders. Repeated What's the matter, however, as Dorcas + runs up and down stairs by her door, bring on, O Madam! my master! my poor + master! + </p> + <p> + What! How! When!—and all the monosyllables of surprize. + </p> + <p> + [Within parentheses let me tell thee, that I have often thought, that the + little words in the republic of letters, like the little folks in a + nation, are the most significant. The trisyllables, and the rumblers of + syllables more than three, are but the good-for-little magnates.] + </p> + <p> + I must not tell you, Madam—My master ordered me not to tell you—but + he is in a worse way than he thinks for!—But he would not have you + frighted. + </p> + <p> + High concern took possession of every sweet feature. She pitied me!—by + my soul, she pitied me! + </p> + <p> + Where is he? + </p> + <p> + Too much in a hurry for good manners, [another parenthesis, Jack! Good + manners are so little natural, that we ought to be composed to observe + them: politeness will not live in a storm]. I cannot stay to answer + questions, cries the wench—though desirous to answer [a third + parenthesis—Like the people crying proclamations, running away from + the customers they want to sell to]. This hurry puts the lady in a hurry + to ask, [a fourth, by way of establishing the third!] as the other does + the people in a hurry to buy. And I have in my eye now a whole street + raised, and running after a proclamation or express-crier, as if the first + was a thief, the other his pursuers. + </p> + <p> + At last, O Lord! let Mrs. Lovelace know!—There is danger, to be + sure! whispered from one nymph to another; but at the door, and so loud, + that my listening fair-one might hear. + </p> + <p> + Out she darts—As how! as how, Dorcas! + </p> + <p> + O Madam—A vomiting of blood! A vessel broke, to be sure! + </p> + <p> + Down she hastens; finds every one as busy over my blood in the entry, as + if it were that of the Neapolitan saint. + </p> + <p> + In steps my charmer, with a face of sweet concern. + </p> + <p> + How do you, Mr. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + O my best love!—Very well!—Very well!—Nothing at all! + nothing of consequence!—I shall be well in an instant!—Straining + again! for I was indeed plaguy sick, though no more blood came. + </p> + <p> + In short, Belford, I have gained my end. I see the dear soul loves me. I + see she forgives me all that's past. I see I have credit for a new score. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe, I defy thee, my dear—Mrs. Townsend!—Who the devil + are you?— Troop away with your contrabands. No smuggling! nor + smuggler, but myself! Nor will the choicest of my fair-one's favours be + long prohibited goods to me! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Every one is now sure that she loves me. Tears were in her eyes more than + once for me. She suffered me to take her hand, and kiss it as often as I + pleased. On Mrs. Sinclair's mentioning, that I too much confined myself, + she pressed me to take an airing; but obligingly desired me to be careful + of myself. Wished I would advise with a physician. God made physicians, + she said. + </p> + <p> + I did not think that, Jack. God indeed made us all. But I fancy she meant + physic instead of physicians; and then the phrase might mean what the + vulgar phrase means;—God sends meat, the Devil cooks. + </p> + <p> + I was well already, on taking the styptic from her dear hands. + </p> + <p> + On her requiring me to take the air, I asked, If I might have the honour + of her company in a coach; and this, that I might observe if she had an + intention of going out in my absence. + </p> + <p> + If she thought a chair were not a more proper vehicle for my case, she + would with all her heart! + </p> + <p> + There's a precious! + </p> + <p> + I kissed her hand again! She was all goodness!—Would to Heaven I + better deserved it, I said!—But all were golden days before us!—Her + presence and generous concern had done every thing. I was well! Nothing + ailed me. But since my beloved will have it so, I'll take a little airing!— + Let a chair be called!—O my charmer! were I to have owned this + indisposition to my late harasses, and to the uneasiness I have had for + disobliging you; all is infinitely compensated by your goodness.—All + the art of healing is in your smiles!—Your late displeasure was the + only malady! + </p> + <p> + While Mrs. Sinclair, and Dorcas, and Polly, and even poor silly Mabell + [for Sally went out, as my angel came in] with uplifted hands and eyes, + stood thanking Heaven that I was better, in audible whispers: See the + power of love, cried one!—What a charming husband, another!—Happy + couple, all! + </p> + <p> + O how the dear creature's cheek mantled!—How her eyes sparkled!—How + sweetly acceptable is praise to conscious merit, while it but reproaches + when applied to the undeserving!—What a new, what a gay creation it + makes all at once in a diffident or dispirited heart! + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, was it not worth while to be sick? And yet I must tell + thee, that too many pleasanter expedients offer themselves, to make trial + any more of this confounded ipecacuanha. + </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 SATURDAY, MAY 27. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace, my dear, has been very ill. Suddenly taken. With a vomiting + of blood in great quantities. Some vessel broken. He complained of a + disorder in his stomach over night. I was the affected with it, as I am + afraid it was occasioned by the violent contentions between us.—But + was I in fault? + </p> + <p> + How lately did I think I hated him!—But hatred and anger, I see, are + but temporary passions with me. One cannot, my dear, hate people in danger + of death, or who are in distress or affliction. My heart, I find, is not + proof against kindness, and acknowledgements of errors committed. + </p> + <p> + He took great care to have his illness concealed from me as long as he + could. So tender in the violence of his disorder!—So desirous to + make the best of it!—I wish he had not been ill in my sight. I was + too much affected—every body alarming me with his danger. The poor + man, from such high health, so suddenly taken!—and so unprepared!— + </p> + <p> + He is gone out in a chair. I advised him to do so. I fear that my advice + was wrong; since quiet in such a disorder must needs be best. We are apt + to be so ready, in cases of emergency, to give our advice, without + judgment, or waiting for it!—I proposed a physician indeed; but he + would not hear of one. I have great honour for the faculty; and the + greater, as I have always observed that those who treat the professors of + the art of healing contemptuously, too generally treat higher institutions + in the same manner. + </p> + <p> + I am really very uneasy. For I have, I doubt, exposed myself to him, and + to the women below. They indeed will excuse me, as they think us married. + But if he be not generous, I shall have cause to regret this surprise; + which (as I had reason to think myself unaccountably treated by him) has + taught me more than I knew of myself. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis true, I have owned more than once, that I could have liked Mr. + Lovelace above all men. I remember the debates you and I used to have on + this subject, when I was your happy guest. You used to say, and once you + wrote,* that men of his cast are the men that our sex do not naturally + dislike: While I held, that such were not (however that might be) the men + we ought to like. But what with my relations precipitating of me, on one + hand, and what with his unhappy character, and embarrassing ways, on the + other, I had no more leisure than inclination to examine my own heart in + this particular. And this reminds me of a transcribe, though it was + written in raillery. 'May it not be,' say you,** 'that you have had such + persons to deal with, as have not allowed you to attend to the throbs; or + if you had them a little now-and-then, whether, having had two accounts to + place them to, you have not by mistake put them to the wrong one?' A + passage, which, although it came into my mind when Mr. Lovelace was least + exceptionable, yet that I have denied any efficacy to, when he has teased + and vexed me, and given me cause of suspicion. For, after all, my dear, + Mr. Lovelace is not wise in all his ways. And should we not endeavour, as + much as is possible, (where we are not attached by natural ties,) to like + and dislike as reason bids us, and according to the merit or demerit of + the object? If love, as it is called, is allowed to be an excuse for our + most unreasonable follies, and to lay level all the fences that a careful + education has surrounded us by, what is meant by the doctrine of subduing + our passions?—But, O my dearest friend, am I not guilty of a + punishable fault, were I to love this man of errors? And has not my own + heart deceived me, when I thought it did not? And what must be that love, + that has not some degree of purity for its object? I am afraid of + recollecting some passages in my cousin Morden's letter.***—And yet + why fly I from subjects that, duly considered, might tend to correct and + purify my heart? I have carried, I doubt, my notions on this head too + high, not for practice, but for my practice. Yet think me not guilty of + prudery neither; for had I found out as much of myself before; or, rather, + had he given me heart's ease enough before to find it out, you should have + had my confession sooner. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XXXIV. ** See Vol. I. Letter XII. *** See Vol. IV. + Letter XIX, & seq. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, let me tell you (what I hope I may justly tell you,) that if + again he give me cause to resume distance and reserve, I hope my reason + will gather strength enough from his imperfections to enable me to keep my + passions under.—What can we do more than govern ourselves by the + temporary lights lent us? + </p> + <p> + You will not wonder that I am grave on this detection—Detection, + must I call it? What can I call it?— + </p> + <p> + Dissatisfied with myself, I am afraid to look back upon what I have + written: yet know not how to have done writing. I never was in such an odd + frame of mind.—I know not how to describe it.—Was you ever so?— + Afraid of the censure of her you love—yet not conscious that you + deserve it? + </p> + <p> + Of this, however, I am convinced, that I should indeed deserve censure, if + I kept any secret of my heart from you. + </p> + <p> + But I will not add another word, after I have assured you, that I will + look still more narrowly into myself: and that I am + </p> + <p> + Your equally sincere and affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SAT. EVENING. + </p> + <p> + I had a charming airing. No return of my malady. My heart was perfectly + easy, how could my stomach be otherwise? + </p> + <p> + But when I came home, I found that my sweet soul had been alarmed by a new + incident—The inquiry after us both, in a very suspicious manner, and + that by description of our persons, and not by names, by a servant in a + blue livery turn'd up and trimm'd with yellow. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas was called to him, as the upper servant; and she refusing to answer + any of the fellow's questions, unless he told his business, and from whom + he came, the fellow (as short as she) said, that if she would not answer + him, perhaps she might answer somebody else; and went away out of humour. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas hurried up to her Lady, and alarmed her, not only with the fact, + but with her own conjectures; adding, that he was an ill-looking fellow, + and she was sure could come for no good. + </p> + <p> + The livery and the features of the servant were particularly inquired + after, and as particularly described—Lord bless her! no end of her + alarms, she thought! And then did her apprehensions anticipate every evil + that could happen. + </p> + <p> + She wished Mr. Lovelace would come in. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace came in soon after; all lively, grateful, full of hopes, of + duty, of love, to thank his charmer, and to congratulate with her upon the + cure she had performed. And then she told the story, with all its + circumstances; and Dorcas, to point her lady's fears, told us, that the + servant was a sun-burnt fellow, and looked as if he had been at sea. + </p> + <p> + He was then, no doubt, Captain Singleton's servant, and the next news she + should hear, was, that the house was surrounded by a whole ship's crew; + the vessel lying no farther off, as she understood, than Rotherhithe. + </p> + <p> + Impossible, I said. Such an attempt would not be ushered in by such a + manner of inquiry. And why may it not rather be a servant of your cousin + Morden, with notice of his arrival, and of his design to attend you? + </p> + <p> + This surmise delighted her. Her apprehensions went off, and she was at + leisure to congratulate me upon my sudden recovery; which she did in the + most obliging manner. + </p> + <p> + But we had not sat long together, when Dorcas again came fluttering up to + tell us, that the footman, the very footman, was again at the door, and + inquired, whether Mr. Lovelace and his lady, by name, had not lodgings in + this house? He asked, he told Dorcas, for no harm. But his disavowing of + harm, was a demonstration with my apprehensive fair-one, that harm was + intended. And as the fellow had not been answered by Dorcas, I proposed to + go down to the street-parlour, and hear what he had to say. + </p> + <p> + I see your causeless terror, my dearest life, said I, and your impatience + —Will you be pleased to walk down—and, without being observed, + (for he shall come no farther than the parlour-door,) you may hear all + that passes? + </p> + <p> + She consented. We went down. Dorcas bid the man come forward. Well, + friend, what is your business with Mr. and Mrs. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + Bowing, scraping, I am sure you are the gentleman, Sir. Why, Sir, my + business is only to know if your honour be here, and to be spoken with; or + if you shall be here for any time? + </p> + <p> + Whom came you from? + </p> + <p> + From a gentleman who ordered me to say, if I was made to tell, but not + else, it was from a friend of Mr. John Harlowe, Mrs. Lovelace's eldest + uncle. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature was ready to sink upon this. It was but of late that she + had provided herself with salts. She pulled them out. + </p> + <p> + Do you know anything of Colonel Morden, friend? said I. + </p> + <p> + No; I never heard of his name. + </p> + <p> + Of Captain Singleton? + </p> + <p> + No, Sir. But the gentleman, my master, is a Captain too. + </p> + <p> + What is his name? + </p> + <p> + I don't know if I should tell. + </p> + <p> + There can be no harm in telling the gentleman's name, if you come upon a + good account. + </p> + <p> + That I do; for my master told me so; and there is not an honester + gentleman on the face of God's yearth.—His name is Captain + Tomlinson, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I don't know such a one. + </p> + <p> + I believe not, Sir. He was pleased to say, he don't know your honor, Sir; + but I heard him say as how he should not be an unwelcome visiter to you + for all that. + </p> + <p> + Do you know such a man as Captain Tomlinson, my dearest life, [aside,] + your uncle's friend? + </p> + <p> + No; but my uncle may have acquaintance, no doubt, that I don't know.— + But I hope [trembling] this is not a trick. + </p> + <p> + Well, friend, if your master has anything to say to Mr. Lovelace, you may + tell him, that Mr. Lovelace is here; and will see him whenever he pleases. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature looked as if afraid that my engagement was too prompt + for my own safety; and away went the fellow—I wondering, that she + might not wonder, that this Captain Tomlinson, whoever he were, came not + himself, or sent not a letter the second time, when he had reason to + suppose that I might be here. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, for fear that this should be a contrivance of James Harlowe, + who, I said, love plotting, though he had not a head turned for it, I gave + some precautionary directions to the servants, and the women, whom, for + the greater parade, I assembled before us, and my beloved was resolved not + to stir abroad till she saw the issue of this odd affair. + </p> + <p> + And here must I close, though in so great a puzzle. + </p> + <p> + Only let me add, that poor Belton wants thee; for I dare not stir for my + life. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray and Tourville skulk about like vagabonds, without heads, without + hands, without souls; having neither you nor me to conduct them. They tell + me, they shall rust beyond the power of oil or action to brighten them up, + or give them motion. + </p> + <p> + How goes it with thy uncle? + </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, MAY 28. + </p> + <p> + This story of Captain Tomlinson employed us not only for the time we were + together last night, but all the while we sat at breakfast this morning. + She would still have it that it was the prelude to some mischief from + Singleton. I insisted (according to my former hint) that it might much + more probably be a method taken by Colonel Morden to alarm her, previous + to a personal visit. Travelled gentlemen affected to surprise in this + manner. And why, dearest creature, said I, must every thing that happens, + which we cannot immediately account for, be what we least wish? + </p> + <p> + She had had so many disagreeable things befall her of late, that her fears + were too often stronger than her hopes. + </p> + <p> + And this, Madam, makes me apprehensive, that you will get into so low- + spirited a way, that you will not be able to enjoy the happiness that + seems to await us. + </p> + <p> + Her duty and her gratitude, she gravely said, to the Dispenser of all + good, would secure her, she hoped, against unthankfulness. And a thankful + spirit was the same as a joyful one. + </p> + <p> + So, Belford, for all her future joys she depends entirely upon the + invisible Good. She is certainly right; since those who fix least upon + second causes are the least likely to be disappointed—And is not + this gravity for her gravity? + </p> + <p> + She had hardly done speaking, when Dorcas came running up in a hurry— + she set even my heart into a palpitation—thump, thump, thump, like a + precipitated pendulum in a clock-case—flutter, flutter, flutter, my + charmer's, as by her sweet bosom rising to her chin I saw. + </p> + <p> + This lower class of people, my beloved herself observed, were for ever + aiming at the stupid wonderful, and for making even common incidents + matter of surprise. + </p> + <p> + Why the devil, said I to the wench, this alarming hurry?—And with + your spread fingers, and your O Madams, and O Sirs!—and be cursed to + you! Would there have been a second of time difference, had you come up + slowly? + </p> + <p> + Captain Tomlinson, Sir! + </p> + <p> + Captain Devilson, what care I?—Do you see how you have disordered + your lady? + </p> + <p> + Good Mr. Lovelace, said my charmer, trembling [see, Jack, when she has an + end to serve, I am good Mr. Lovelace,] if—if my brother,—if + Captain Singleton should appear—pray now—I beseech you—let + me beg of you—to govern your temper—My brother is my brother—Captain + Singleton is but an agent. + </p> + <p> + My dearest life, folding my arms about her, [when she asks favours, + thought I, the devil's in it, if she will not allow such an innocent + freedom as this, from good Mr. Lovelace too,] you shall be witness of all + passes between us.—Dorcas, desire the gentleman to walk up. + </p> + <p> + Let me retire to my chamber first!—Let me not be known to be in the + house! + </p> + <p> + Charming dear!—Thou seest, Belford, she is afraid of leaving me!—O + the little witchcrafts! Were it not for surprises now-and-then, how would + an honest man know where to have them? + </p> + <p> + She withdrew to listen.—And though this incident has not turned out + to answer all I wished from it, yet is it not necessary, if I would + acquaint thee with my whole circulation, to be very particular in what + passed between Captain Tomlinson and me. + </p> + <p> + Enter Captain Tomlinson, in a riding-dress, whip in hand. + </p> + <p> + Your servant, Sir,—Mr. Lovelace, I presume? + </p> + <p> + My name is Lovelace, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Excuse the day, Sir.—Be pleased to excuse my garb. I am obliged to + go out of town directly, that I may return at night. + </p> + <p> + The day is a good day. Your garb needs no apology. + </p> + <p> + When I sent my servant, I did not know that I should find time to do + myself this honour. All that I thought I could do to oblige my friend this + journey, was only to assure myself of your abode; and whether there was a + probability of being admitted to the speech of either you, or your lady. + </p> + <p> + Sir, you best know your own motives. What your time will permit you to do, + you also best know. And here I am, attending your pleasure. + </p> + <p> + My charmer owned afterwards her concern on my being so short. Whatever I + shall mingle of her emotions, thou wilt easily guess I had afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Sir, I hope no offence. I intend none. + </p> + <p> + None—None at all, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Sir, I have no interest in the affair I come about. I may appear + officious; and if I thought I should, I would decline any concern in it, + after I have just hinted what it is. + </p> + <p> + And pray, Sir, what is it? + </p> + <p> + May I ask you, Sir, without offence, whether you wish to be reconciled, + and to co-operate upon honourable terms, with one gentleman of the name of + Harlowe; preparative, as it may be hoped, to a general reconciliation? + </p> + <p> + O how my heart fluttered! cried my charmer. + </p> + <p> + I can't tell, Sir—[and then it fluttered still more, no doubt:] The + whole family have used me extremely ill. They have taken greater liberties + with my character than are justifiable; and with my family too; which I + can less forgive. + </p> + <p> + Sir, Sir, I have done. I beg pardon for this intrusion. + </p> + <p> + My beloved was then ready to sink, and thought very hardly of me. + </p> + <p> + But, pray, Sir, to the immediate purpose of your present commission; since + a commission it seems to be? + </p> + <p> + It is a commission, Sir; and such a one, as I thought would be agreeable + to all parties, or I should not have given myself concern about it. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it may, Sir, when known. But let me ask you one previous question—Do + you know Colonel Morden, Sir? + </p> + <p> + No, Sir. If you mean personally, I do not. But I have heard my good friend + Mr. John Harlowe talk of him with great respect; and such a co-trustee + with him in a certain trust. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. I thought it probable, Sir, that the Colonel might be arrived; that + you might be a gentleman of his acquaintance; and that something of an + agreeable surprise might be intended. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Had Colonel Morden been in England, Mr. John Harlowe would have + known it; and then I should not have been a stranger to it. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Well but, Sir, have you then any commission to me from Mr. John + Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + Capt. Sir, I will tell you, as briefly as I can, the whole of what I have + to say; but you'll excuse me also in a previous question, for what + curiosity is not my motive; but it is necessary to be answered before I + can proceed; as you will judge when you hear it. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. What, pray, Sir, is your question? + </p> + <p> + Capt. Briefly, whether you are actually, and bonâ fide, married to Miss + Clarissa Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + I started, and, in a haughty tone, is this, Sir, a question that must be + answered before you can proceed in the business you have undertaken? + </p> + <p> + I mean no offence, Mr. Lovelace. Mr. Harlowe sought to me to undertake + this office. I have daughters and nieces of my own. I thought it a good + office, or I, who have many considerable affairs upon my hands, had not + accepted of it. I know the world; and will take the liberty to say, that + if the young lady— + </p> + <p> + Captain Tomlinson, I think you are called? + </p> + <p> + My name is Tomlinson. + </p> + <p> + Why then, Tomlinson, no liberty, as you call it, will be taken well, that + is not extremely delicate, when that lady is mentioned. + </p> + <p> + When you had heard me out, Mr. Lovelace, and had found I had so behaved, + as to make the caution necessary, it would have been just to have given + it.—Allow me to say, I know what is due to the character of a woman + of virtue, as well as any man alive. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir! Why, Captain Tomlinson, you seem warm. If you intend any thing + by this, [O how I trembled! said the lady, when she took notice of this + part of our conversation afterwards,] I will only say, that this is a + privileged place. It is at present my home, and an asylum for any + gentleman who thinks it worth his while to inquire after me, be the manner + or end of his inquiry what it will. + </p> + <p> + I know not, Sir, that I have given occasion for this. I make no scruple to + attend you elsewhere, if I am troublesome here. I was told, I had a warm + young gentleman to deal with: but as I knew my intention, and that my + commission was an amicable one, I was the less concerned about that. I am + twice your age, Mr. Lovelace, I dare say: but I do assure you, that if + either my message or my manner gives you offence, I can suspend the one or + the other for a day, or for ever, as you like. And so, Sir, any time + before eight tomorrow morning, you will let me know your further commands.—And + was going to tell me where he might be found. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tomlinson, said I, you answer well. I love a man of spirit. Have + you not been in the army? + </p> + <p> + I have, Sir; but have turned my sword into a ploughshare, as the scripture + has it,—[there was a clever fellow, Jack!—he was a good man + with somebody, I warrant! O what a fine coat and cloke for an hypocrite + will a text of scripture, properly applied, make at any time in the eyes + of the pious!—how easily are the good folks taken in!]—and all + my delight, added he, for some years past, has been in cultivating my + paternal estate. I love a brave man, Mr. Lovelace, as well as ever I did + in my life. But let me tell you, Sir, that when you come to my time of + life, you will be of opinion, that there is not so much true bravery in + youthful choler, as you may now think there is. + </p> + <p> + A clever fellow again, Belford!—Ear and heart, both at once, he took + in my charmer!—'Tis well, she says, there are some men who have + wisdom in their anger. + </p> + <p> + Well, Captain, that is reproof for reproof. So we are upon a footing. And + now give me the pleasure of hearing the import of your commission. + </p> + <p> + Sir, you must first allow me to repeat my question: Are you really, and + bonâ fide, married to Miss Clarissa Harlowe? or are you not yet married? + </p> + <p> + Bluntly put, Captain. But if I answer that I am, what then? + </p> + <p> + Why then, Sir, I shall say, that you are a man of honour. + </p> + <p> + That I hope I am, whether you say it or not, Captain Tomlinson. + </p> + <p> + Sir, I will be very frank in all I have to say on this subject—Mr. + John Harlowe has lately found out, that you and his niece are both in the + same lodgings; that you have been long so; and that the lady was at the + play with you yesterday was se'nnight; and he hopes that you are actually + married. He has indeed heard that you are; but as he knows your + enterprising temper, and that you have declared, that you disdain a + relation to their family, he is willing by me to have your marriage + confirmed from your own mouth, before he take the steps he is inclined to + take in his niece's favour. You will allow me to say, Mr. Lovelace, that + he will not be satisfied with an answer that admits of the least doubt. + </p> + <p> + Let me tell you, Captain Tomlinson, that it is a high degree of vileness + for any man to suppose— + </p> + <p> + Sir—Mr. Lovelace—don't put yourself into a passion. The lady's + relations are jealous of the honour of their family. They have prejudices + to overcome as well as you—advantage may have been taken—and + the lady, at the time, not to blame. + </p> + <p> + This lady, Sir, could give no such advantages: and if she had, what must + the man be, Captain Tomlinson, who could have taken them?—Do you + know the lady, Sir? + </p> + <p> + I never had the honour to see her but once; and that was at a church; and + should not know her again. + </p> + <p> + Not know her again, Sir!—I thought there was not a man living who + had once seen her, and would not know her among a thousand. + </p> + <p> + I remember, Sir, that I thought I never saw a finer woman in my life. But, + Mr. Lovelace, I believe, you will allow, that it is better that her + relations should have wronged you, than you the lady, I hope, Sir, you + will permit me to repeat my question. + </p> + <p> + Enter Dorcas, in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman, this minute, Sir, desires to speak with your honour—[My + lady, Sir!—Aside.] + </p> + <p> + Could the dear creature put Dorcas upon telling this fib, yet want to save + me one? + </p> + <p> + Desire the gentleman to walk into one of the parlours. I will wait upon + him presently. + </p> + <p> + [Exit Dorcas. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature, I doubted not, wanted to instruct me how to answer the + Captain's home put. I knew how I intended to answer it—plumb, thou + may'st be sure—but Dorcas's message staggered me. And yet I was upon + one of my master-strokes—which was, to take advantage of the + captain's inquiries, and to make her own her marriage before him, as she + had done to the people below; and if she had been brought to that, to + induce her, for her uncle's satisfaction, to write him a letter of + gratitude; which of course must have been signed Clarissa Lovelace. I was + loth, therefore, thou may'st believe, to attend her sudden commands: and + yet, afraid of pushing matters beyond recovery with her, I thought proper + to lead him from the question, to account for himself and for Mr. + Harlowe's coming to the knowledge of where we are; and for other + particulars which I knew would engage her attention; and which might + possibly convince her of the necessity there was for her to acquiesce in + the affirmative I was disposed to give. And this for her own sake; For + what, as I asked her afterwards, is it to me, whether I am ever reconciled + to her family?—A family, Jack, which I must for ever despise. + </p> + <p> + You think, Captain, that I have answered doubtfully to the question you + put. You may think so. And you must know, that I have a good deal of + pride; and, only that you are a gentleman, and seem in this affair to be + governed by generous motives, or I should ill brook being interrogated as + to my honour to a lady so dear to me.—But before I answer more + directly to the point, pray satisfy me in a question or two that I shall + put to you. + </p> + <p> + With all my heart, Sir. Ask me what questions you please, I will answer + them with sincerity and candour. + </p> + <p> + You say, Mr. Harlowe has found out that we were at a play together: and + that we were both in the same lodgings—How, pray, came he at his + knowledge?—for, let me tell you, that I have, for certain + considerations, (not respecting myself, I will assure you,) condescended + that our abode should be kept secret. And this has been so strictly + observed, that even Miss Howe, though she and my beloved correspond, knows + not directly where to send to us. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, the person who saw you at the play, was a tenant of Mr. John + Harlowe. He watched all your motions. When the play was done, he followed + your coach to your lodgings. And early the next day, Sunday, he took + horse, and acquainted his landlord with what he had observed. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. How oddly things come about!—But does any other of the + Harlowes know where we are? + </p> + <p> + Capt. It is an absolute secret to every other person of the family; and so + it is intended to be kept: as also that Mr. John Harlowe is willing to + enter into treaty with you, by me, if his niece be actually married; for + perhaps he is aware, that he shall have difficulty enough with some people + to bring about the desirable reconciliation, although he could give them + this assurance. + </p> + <p> + I doubt it not, Captain—to James Harlowe is all the family folly + owing. Fine fools! [heroically stalking about] to be governed by one to + whom malice and not genius, gives the busy liveliness that distinguishes + him from a natural!—But how long, pray, Sir, has Mr. John Harlowe + been in this pacific disposition? + </p> + <p> + I will tell you, Mr. Lovelace, and the occasion; and be very explicit upon + it, and upon all that concerns you to know of me, and of the commission I + have undertaken to execute; and this the rather, as when you have heard me + out, you will be satisfied, that I am not an officious man in this my + present address to you. + </p> + <p> + I am all attention, Captain Tomlinson. + </p> + <p> + And so I doubt not was my beloved. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'You must know, Sir, that I have not been many months in Mr. John + Harlowe's neighbourhood. I removed from Northamptonshire, partly for the + sake of better managing one of two executorship, which I could not avoid + engaging in, (the affairs of which frequently call me to town, and are + part of my present business;) and partly for the sake of occupying a + neglected farm, which has lately fallen into my hands. But though an + acquaintance of no longer standing, and that commencing on the bowling- + green, [uncle John is a great bowler, Belford,] (upon my decision of a + point to every one's satisfaction, which was appealed to me by all the + gentlemen, and which might have been attended with bad consequences,) no + two brothers have a more cordial esteem for each other. You know, Mr. + Lovelace, that there is a consent, as I may call it, in some minds, which + will unite them stronger together in a few hours, than years can do with + others, whom yet we see not with disgust.' + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Very true, Captain. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'It was on the foot of this avowed friendship on both sides, that on + Monday the 15th, as I very well remember, Mr. Harlowe invited himself home + with me. And when there, he acquainted me with the whole of the unhappy + affair that had made them all so uneasy. Till then I knew it only by + report; for, intimate as we were, I forbore to speak of what was so near + his heart, till he began first. And then he told me, that he had had an + application made to him, two or three days before, by a gentleman whom he + named,* to induce him not only to be reconciled himself to his niece, but + to forward for her a general reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letters XXIII and XXIX. + </p> + <p> + 'A like application, he told me, had been made to his sister Harlowe, by a + good woman, whom every body respected; who had intimated, that his niece, + if encouraged, would again put herself into the protection of her friends, + and leave you: but if not, that she must unavoidably be your's.' + </p> + <p> + I hope, Mr. Lovelace, I make no mischief.—You look concerned—you + sigh, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Proceed, Captain Tomlinson. Pray proceed.—And I sighed still more + profoundly. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'They all thought it extremely particular, that a lady should + decline marriage with a man she had so lately gone away with.' + </p> + <p> + Pray, Captain—pray, Mr. Tomlinson—no more of this subject. My + beloved is an angel. In every thing unblamable. Whatever faults there have + been, have been theirs and mine. What you would further say, is, that the + unforgiving family rejected her application. They did. She and I had a + misunderstanding. The falling out of lovers—you know, Captain. + —We have been happier ever since. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'Well, Sir; but Mr. John Harlowe could not but better consider the + matter afterwards. And he desired my advice how to act in it. He told me + that no father ever loved a daughter as he loved this niece of his; whom, + indeed, he used to call his daughter-niece. He said, she had really been + unkindly treated by her brother and sister: and as your alliance, Sir, was + far from being a discredit to their family, he would do his endeavour to + reconcile all parties, if he could be sure that ye were actually man and + wife.' + </p> + <p> + Lovel. And what, pray, Captain, was your advice? + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'I gave it as my opinion, that if his niece were unworthily treated, + and in distress, (as he apprehended from the application to him,) he would + soon hear of her again: but that it was likely, that this application was + made without expecting it would succeed; and as a salvo only, to herself, + for marrying without their consent. And the rather thought I so, as he had + told me, that it came from a young lady her friend, and not in a direct + way from herself; which young lady was no favourite of the family; and + therefore would hardly have been employed, had success been expected.' + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Very well, Captain Tomlinson—pray proceed. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'Here the matter rested till last Sunday evening, when Mr. John + Harlowe came to me with the man who had seen you and your lady (as I + presume she is) at the play; and who had assured him, that you both lodged + in the same house.—And then the application having been so lately + made, which implied that you were not then married, he was so uneasy for + his niece's honour, that I advised him to dispatch to town some one in + whom he could confide, to make proper inquiries.' + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Very well, Captain—And was such a person employed on such an + errand by her uncle? + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'A trusty and discreet person was accordingly sent; and last + Tuesday, I think it was, (for he returned to us on the Wednesday,) he made + the inquiries among the neighbours first.' [The very inquiry, Jack, that + gave us all so much uneasiness.*] 'But finding that none of them could + give any satisfactory account, the lady's woman was come at, who declared, + that you were actually married. But the inquirist keeping himself on the + reserve as to his employers, the girl refused to tell the day, or to give + him other particulars.' + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter L. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You give a very clear account of every thing, Captain Tomlinson. + Pray proceed. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'The gentleman returned; and, on his report, Mr. Harlowe, having + still doubts, and being willing to proceed on some grounds in so important + a point, besought me (as my affairs called me frequently to town) to + undertake this matter. "You, Mr. Tomlinson, he was pleased to say, have + children of your own: you know the world: you know what I drive at: you + will proceed, I am sure, with understanding and spirit: and whatever you + are satisfied with shall satisfy me."' + </p> + <p> + Enter Dorcas again in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + Sir, the gentleman is impatient. + </p> + <p> + I will attend him presently. + </p> + <p> + The Captain then accounted for his not calling in person, when he had + reason to think us here. + </p> + <p> + He said he had business of consequence a few miles out of town, whither he + thought he must have gone yesterday, and having been obliged to put off + his little journey till this day, and understanding that we were within, + not knowing whether he should have such another opportunity, he was + willing to try his good fortune before he set out; and this made him come + booted and spurred, as I saw him. + </p> + <p> + He dropped a hint in commendation of the people of the house; but it was + in such a way, as to give no room to suspect that he thought it necessary + to inquire after the character of persons, who make so genteel an + appearance, as he observed they do. + </p> + <p> + And here let me remark, that my beloved might collect another circumstance + in favour of the people below, had she doubted their characters, from the + silence of her uncle's inquirist on Tuesday among the neighbours. + </p> + <p> + Capt. 'And now, Sir, that I believe I have satisfied you in every thing + relating to my commission, I hope you will permit me to repeat my question—which + is—' + </p> + <p> + Enter Dorcas again, out of breath. + </p> + <p> + Sir, the gentleman will step up to you. [My lady is impatient. She wonders + at your honour's delay. Aside.] + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Captain, for one moment. + </p> + <p> + I have staid my full time, Mr. Lovelace. What may result from my question + and your answer, whatever it shall be, may take us up time.— And you + are engaged. Will you permit me to attend you in the morning, before I set + out on my return? + </p> + <p> + You will then breakfast with me, Captain? + </p> + <p> + It must be early if I do. I must reach my own house to-morrow night, or I + shall make the best of wives unhappy. And I have two or three places to + call at in my way. + </p> + <p> + It shall be by seven o'clock, if you please, Captain. We are early folks. + And this I will tell you, that if ever I am reconciled to a family so + implacable as I have always found the Harlowes to be, it must be by the + mediation of so cool and so moderate a gentleman as yourself. + </p> + <p> + And so, with the highest civilities on both sides, we parted. But for the + private satisfaction of so good a man, I left him out of doubt that we + were man and wife, though I did not directly aver it. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + This Captain Tomlinson is one of the happiest as well as one of the best + men in the world. What would I give to stand as high in my beloved's + opinion as he does! but yet I am as good a man as he, were I to tell my + own story, and have equal credit given to it. But the devil should have + had him before I had seen him on the account he came upon, had I thought I + should not have answered my principal end in it. I hinted to thee in my + last what that was. + </p> + <p> + But to the particulars of the conference between my fair-one and me, on + her hasty messages; which I was loth to come to, because she has had an + half triumph over me in it. + </p> + <p> + After I had attended the Captain down to the very passage, I returned to + the dining-room, and put on a joyful air, on my beloved's entrance into it—O + my dearest creature, said I, let me congratulate you on a prospect so + agreeable to your wishes! And I snatched her hand, and smothered it with + kisses. + </p> + <p> + I was going on; when interrupting me, You see, Mr. Lovelace, said she, how + you have embarrassed yourself by your obliquities! You see, that you have + not been able to return a direct answer to a plain and honest question, + though upon it depends all the happiness, on the prospect of which you + congratulate me! + </p> + <p> + You know, my best love, what my prudent, and I will say, my kind motives + were, for giving out that we were married. You see that I have taken no + advantage of it; and that no inconvenience has followed it. You see that + your uncle wants only to be assured from ourselves that it is so— + </p> + <p> + Not another word on this subject, Mr. Lovelace. I will not only risk, but + I will forfeit, the reconciliation so near my heart, rather than I will go + on to countenance a story so untrue! + </p> + <p> + My dearest soul—Would you have me appear— + </p> + <p> + I would have you appear, Sir, as you are! I am resolved that I will appear + to my uncle's friend, and to my uncle, as I am. + </p> + <p> + For one week, my dearest life! cannot you for one week—only till the + settlements— + </p> + <p> + Not for one hour, with my own consent. You don't know, Sir, how much I + have been afflicted, that I have appeared to the people below what I am + not. But my uncle, Sir, shall never have it to upbraid me, nor will I to + upbraid myself, that I have wilfully passed upon him in false lights. + </p> + <p> + What, my dear, would you have me say to the Captain to-morrow morning? I + have given him room to think— + </p> + <p> + Then put him right, Mr. Lovelace. Tell the truth. Tell him what you please + of the favour of your relations to me: tell him what you will about the + settlements: and if, when drawn, you will submit them to his perusal and + approbation, it will show him how much you are in earnest. + </p> + <p> + My dearest life!—Do you think that he would disapprove of the terms + I have offered? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + Then may I be accursed, if I willingly submit to be trampled under foot by + my enemies! + </p> + <p> + And may I, Mr. Lovelace, never be happy in this life, if I submit to the + passing upon my uncle Harlowe a wilful and premeditated falshood for + truth! I have too long laboured under the affliction which the rejection + of all my friends has given me, to purchase my reconciliation with them + now at so dear a price as this of my veracity. + </p> + <p> + The women below, my dear— + </p> + <p> + What are the women below to me?—I want not to establish myself with + them. Need they know all that passes between my relations and you and me? + </p> + <p> + Neither are they any thing to me, Madam. Only, that when, for the sake of + preventing the fatal mischiefs which might have attended your brother's + projects, I have made them think us married, I would not appear to them in + a light which you yourself think so shocking. By my soul, Madam, I had + rather die, than contradict myself so flagrantly, after I have related to + them so many circumstances of our marriage. + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, the women may believe what they please. That I have given + countenance to what you told them is my error. The many circumstances + which you own one untruth has drawn you in to relate, is a justification + of my refusal in the present case. + </p> + <p> + Don't you see, Madam, that your uncle wishes to find that we are married? + May not the ceremony be privately over, before his mediation can take + place? + </p> + <p> + Urge this point no further, Mr. Lovelace. If you will not tell the truth, + I will to-morrow morning (if I see Captain Tomlinson) tell it myself. + Indeed I will. + </p> + <p> + Will you, Madam, consent that things pass as before with the people below? + This mediation of Tomlinson may come to nothing. Your brother's schemes + may be pursued; the rather, that now he will know (perhaps from your + uncle) that you are not under a legal protection.—You will, at + least, consent that things pass here as before?— + </p> + <p> + To permit this, is to go on in an error, Mr. Lovelace. But as the occasion + for so doing (if there can be in your opinion an occasion that will + warrant an untruth) will, as I presume, soon be over, I shall the less + dispute that point with you. But a new error I will not be guilty of, if I + can avoid it. + </p> + <p> + Can I, do you think, Madam, have any dishonourable view in the step I + supposed you would not scruple to take towards a reconciliation with your + own family? Not for my own sake, you know, did I wish you to take it; for + what is it to me, if I am never reconciled to your family? I want no + favours from them. + </p> + <p> + I hope, Mr. Lovelace, there is no occasion, in our present not + disagreeable situation, to answer such a question. And let me say, that I + shall think my prospects still more agreeable, if, to-morrow morning you + will not only own the very truth, but give my uncle's friend such an + account of the steps you have taken, and are taking, as may keep up my + uncle's favourable intentions towards me. This you may do under what + restrictions of secrecy you please. Captain Tomlinson is a prudent man; a + promoter of family-peace, you find; and, I dare say, may be made a friend. + </p> + <p> + I saw there was no help. I saw that the inflexible Harlowe spirit was all + up in her.—A little witch!—A little—Forgive me, Love, + for calling her names! And so I said, with an air, We have had too many + misunderstandings, Madam, for me to wish for new ones: I will obey you + without reserve. Had I not thought I should have obliged you by the other + method, (especially as the ceremony might have been over before any thing + could have operated from your uncle's intentions, and of consequence no + untruth persisted in,) I would not have proposed it. But think not, my + beloved creature, that you shall enjoy, without condition, this triumph + over my judgment. + </p> + <p> + And then, clasping my arms about her, I gave her averted cheek (her + charming lip designed) a fervent kiss.—And your forgiveness of this + sweet freedom [bowing] is that condition. + </p> + <p> + She was not mortally offended. And now must I make out the rest as well as + I can. But this I will tell thee, that although her triumph has not + diminished my love for her, yet it has stimulated me more than ever to + revenge, as thou wilt be apt to call it. But victory, or conquest, is the + more proper word. + </p> + <p> + There is a pleasure, 'tis true, in subduing one of these watchful + beauties. But by my soul, Belford, men of our cast take twenty times the + pains to be rogues than it would cost them to be honest; and dearly, with + the sweat of our brows, and to the puzzlement of our brains, (to say + nothing of the hazards we run,) do we earn our purchase; and ought not + therefore to be grudged our success when we meet with it—especially + as, when we have obtained our end, satiety soon follows; and leaves us + little or nothing to show for it. But this, indeed, may be said of all + worldly delights.—And is not that a grave reflection from me? + </p> + <p> + I was willing to write up to the time. Although I have not carried my + principal point, I shall make something turn out in my favour from Captain + Tomlinson's errand. But let me give thee this caution; that thou do not + pretend to judge of my devices by parts; but have patience till thou seest + the whole. But once more I swear, that I will not be out-Norris'd by a + pair of novices. And yet I am very apprehensive, at times, of the + consequences of Miss Howe's smuggling scheme. + </p> + <p> + My conscience, I should think, ought not to reproach me for a contrivance, + which is justified by the contrivances of two such girls as these: one of + whom (the more excellent of the two) I have always, with her own + approbation, as I imagine, proposed for my imitation. + </p> + <p> + But here, Jack, is the thing that concludes me, and cases my heart with + adamant: I find, by Miss Howe's letters, that it is owing to her, that I + have made no greater progress with my blooming fair-one. She loves me. The + ipecacuanha contrivance convinces me that she loves me. Where there is + love there must be confidence, or a desire of having reason to confide. + Generosity, founded on my supposed generosity, has taken hold of her + heart. Shall I not now see (since I must forever be unhappy, if I marry + her, and leave any trial unessayed) what I can make of her love, and her + newly-raised confidence?—Will it not be to my glory to succeed? And + to her's and to the honour of her sex, if I cannot?—Where then will + be the hurt to either, to make the trial? And cannot I, as I have often + said, reward her when I will by marriage? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis late, or rather early; for the day begins to dawn upon me. I am + plaguy heavy. Perhaps I need not to have told thee that. But will only + indulge a doze in my chair for an hour; then shake myself, wash and + refresh. At my time of life, with such a constitution as I am blessed + with, that's all that's wanted. + </p> + <p> + Good night to me!—It cannot be broad day till I am awake.—Aw-w-w-whaugh—pox + of this yawning! + </p> + <p> + Is not thy uncle dead yet? + </p> + <p> + What's come to mine, that he writes not to my last?—Hunting after + more wisdom of nations, I suppose!—Yaw-yaw-yawning again!—Pen, + begone! + </p> + <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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, MAY 29. + </p> + <p> + Now have I established myself for ever in my charmer's heart. + </p> + <p> + The Captain came at seven, as promised, and ready equipped for his + journey. My beloved chose not to give us her company till our first + conversation was over—ashamed, I suppose, to be present at that part + of it which was to restore her to her virgin state by my confession, after + her wifehood had been reported to her uncle. But she took her cue, + nevertheless, and listened to all that passed. + </p> + <p> + The modestest women, Jack, must think, and think deeply sometimes. I + wonder whether they ever blush at those things by themselves, at which + they have so charming a knack of blushing in company. If not; and if + blushing be a sign of grace or modesty; have not the sex as great a + command over their blushes as they are said to have over their tears? This + reflection would lead me a great way into female minds, were I disposed to + pursue it. + </p> + <p> + I told the Captain, that I would prevent his question; and accordingly + (after I had enjoined the strictest secrecy, that no advantage might be + given to James Harlowe, and which he had answered for as well on Mr. + Harlowe's part as his own) I acknowledged nakedly and fairly the whole + truth—to wit, 'That we were not yet married. I gave him hints of the + causes of procrastination. Some of them owing to unhappy + misunderstandings: but chiefly to the Lady's desire of previous + reconciliation with her friends; and to a delicacy that had no example.' + </p> + <p> + Less nice ladies than this, Jack, love to have delays, wilful and studied + delays, imputed to them in these cases—yet are indelicate in their + affected delicacy: For do they not thereby tacitly confess, that they + expect to be the greatest estgainers in wedlock; and that there is + self-denial in the pride they take in delaying? + </p> + <p> + 'I told him the reason of our passing to the people below as married—yet + as under a vow of restriction, as to consummation, which had kept us both + to the height, one of forbearing, the other of vigilant punctilio; even to + the denial of those innocent freedoms, which betrothed lovers never + scruple to allow and to take. + </p> + <p> + 'I then communicated to him a copy of my proposal of settlement; the + substance of her written answer; the contents of my letter of invitation + to Lord M. to be her nuptial-father; and of my Lord's generous reply. But + said, that having apprehensions of delay from his infirmities, and my + beloved choosing by all means (and that from principles of unrequited + duty) a private solemnization, I had written to excuse his Lordship's + presence; and expected an answer every hour. + </p> + <p> + 'The settlements, I told him, were actually drawing by Counsellor + Williams, of whose eminence he must have heard—' + </p> + <p> + He had. + </p> + <p> + 'And of the truth of this he might satisfy himself before he went out of + town. + </p> + <p> + 'When these were drawn, approved, and engrossed, nothing, I said, but + signing, and the nomination of my happy day, would be wanting. I had a + pride, I declared, in doing the highest justice to so beloved a creature, + of my own voluntary motion, and without the intervention of a family from + whom I had received the greatest insults. And this being our present + situation, I was contented that Mr. John Harlowe should suspend his + reconciliatory purposes till our marriage were actually solemnized.' + </p> + <p> + The Captain was highly delighted with all I said: Yet owned, that as his + dear friend Mr. Harlowe had expressed himself greatly pleased to hear that + we were actually married, he could have wished it had been so. But, + nevertheless, he doubted not that all would be well. + </p> + <p> + He saw my reasons, he said, and approved of them, for making the + gentlewomen below [whom again he understood to be good sort of people] + believe that the ceremony had passed; which so well accounted for what the + lady's maid had told Mr. Harlowe's friend. Mr. James Harlowe, he said, had + certainly ends to answer in keeping open the breach; and as certainly had + formed a design to get his sister out of my hands. Wherefore it as much + imported his worthy friend to keep this treaty as secret, as it did me; at + least till he had formed his party, and taken his measures. Ill will and + passion were dreadful misrepresenters. It was amazing to him, that + animosity could be carried so high against a man capable of views so + pacific and so honourable, and who had shown such a command of his temper, + in this whole transaction, as I had done. Generosity, indeed, in every + case, where love of stratagem and intrigue (I would excuse him) were not + concerned, was a part of my character. + </p> + <p> + He was proceeding, when, breakfast being ready, in came the empress of my + heart, irradiating all around her, as with a glory—a benignity and + graciousness in her aspect, that, though natural to it, had been long + banished from it. + </p> + <p> + Next to prostration lowly bowed the Captain. O how the sweet creature + smiled her approbation of him! Reverence from one begets reverence from + another. Men are more of monkeys in imitation than they think themselves.—Involuntarily, + in a manner, I bent my knee—My dearest life—and made a very + fine speech on presenting the Captain to her. No title myself, to her lip + or cheek, 'tis well he attempted not either. He was indeed ready to + worship her;—could only touch her charming hand. + </p> + <p> + I have told the Captain, my dear creature—and then I briefly + repeated (as if I had supposed she had not heard it) all I had told him. + </p> + <p> + He was astonished, that any body could be displeased one moment with such + an angel. He undertook her cause as the highest degree of merit to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Never, I must need say, did an angel so much look the angel. All placid, + serene, smiling, self-assured: a more lovely flush than usual heightening + her natural graces, and adding charms, even to radiance, to her charming + complexion. + </p> + <p> + After we had seated ourselves, the agreeable subject was renewed, as we + took our chocolate. How happy should she be in her uncle's restored + favour! + </p> + <p> + The Captain engaged for it—No more delays, he hoped, on her part! + Let the happy day be but once over, all would then be right. But was it + improper to ask for copies of my proposals, and of her answer, in order to + show them to his dear friend, her uncle? + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Lovelace pleased.—O that the dear creature would always say + so! + </p> + <p> + It must be in strict confidence then, I said. But would it not be better + to show her uncle the draught of the settlements, when drawn? + </p> + <p> + And will you be so good as to allow of this, Mr. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + There, Belford! We were once the quarrelsome, but now we are the polite, + lovers. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear creature, I will, if you desire it, and if Captain + Tomlinson will engage that Mr. Harlowe shall keep them absolutely a + secret; that I may not be subjected to the cavil and controul of any + others of a family that have used me so very ill. + </p> + <p> + Now, indeed, Sir, you are very obliging. + </p> + <p> + Dost think, Jack, that my face did not now also shine? + </p> + <p> + I held out my hand, (first consecrating it with a kiss,) for her's. She + condescended to give it me. I pressed it to my lips: You know not Captain + Tomlinson, (with an air,) all storms overblown, what a happy man— + </p> + <p> + Charming couple! [his hands lifted up,] how will my good friend rejoice! O + that he were present! You know not, Madam, how dear you still are to your + uncle Harlowe! + </p> + <p> + I am still unhappy ever to have disobliged him! + </p> + <p> + Not too much of that, however, fairest, thought I! + </p> + <p> + The Captain repeated his resolution of service, and that in so acceptable + a manner, that the dear creature wished that neither he, nor any of his, + might ever want a friend of equal benevolence. + </p> + <p> + Nor any of this, she said; for the Captain brought it in, that he had five + children living, by one of the best wives and mothers, whose excellent + management made him as happy as if his eight hundred pounds a year (which + was all he had to boast of) were two thousand. + </p> + <p> + Without economy, the oracular lady said, no estate was large enough. With + it, the least was not too small. + </p> + <p> + Lie still, teasing villain! lie still.—I was only speaking to my + conscience, Jack. + </p> + <p> + And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain; yet not so much from + doubt, as that I may proceed upon sure grounds—You are willing to + co-operate with my dear friend in a general reconciliation? + </p> + <p> + Let me tell you, Mr. Tomlinson, that if it can be distinguished, that my + readiness to make up with a family, of whose generosity I have not had + reason to think highly, is entirely owing to the value I have for this + angel of a woman, I will not only co-operate with Mr. John Harlowe, as you + ask; but I will meet with Mr. James Harlowe senior, and his lady, all the + way. And furthermore, to make the son James and his sister Arabella quite + easy, I will absolutely disclaim any further interest, whether living or + dying, in any of the three brothers' estates; contenting myself with what + my beloved's grandfather had bequeathed to her: for I have reason to be + abundantly satisfied with my own circumstances and prospects—enough + rewarded, were she not to bring a shilling in dowry, in a woman who has a + merit superior to all the goods of fortune.—True as the Gospel, + Belford!—Why had not this scene a real foundation? + </p> + <p> + The dear creature, by her eyes, expressed her gratitude, before her lips + could utter it. O Mr. Lovelace, said she—you have infinitely—And + there she stopt. + </p> + <p> + The Captain run over in my praise. He was really affected. + </p> + <p> + O that I had not such a mixture of revenge and pride in my love, thought + I!—But, (my old plea,) cannot I make her amends at any time? And is + not her virtue now in the height of its probation?—Would she lay + aside, like the friends of my uncontending Rosebud, all thoughts of + defiance—Would she throw herself upon my mercy, and try me but one + fortnight in the life of honour—What then?—I cannot say, What + then— + </p> + <p> + Do not despise me, Jack, for my inconsistency—in no two letters + perhaps agreeing with myself—Who expects consistency in men of our + character?—But I am mad with love—fired by revenge—puzzled + with my own devices—my invention is my curse—my pride my + punishment—drawn five or six ways at once, can she possibly be so + unhappy as I?—O why, why, was this woman so divinely excellent!—Yet + how know I that she is? What have been her trials? Have I had the courage + to make a single one upon her person, though a thousand upon her temper?—Enow, + I hope, to make her afraid of ever more disobliging me more!— + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I must banish reflection, or I am a lost man. For these two hours past + have I hated myself for my own contrivances. And this not only from what I + have related to thee; but for what I have further to relate. But I have + now once more steeled my heart. My vengeance is uppermost; for I have been + reperusing some of Miss Howe's virulence. The contempt they have both held + me in I cannot bear. + </p> + <p> + The happiest breakfast-time, my beloved owned, that she had ever known + since she had left her father's house. [She might have let this alone.] + The Captain renewed all his protestations of service. He would write me + word how his dear friend received the account he should give him of the + happy situation of our affairs, and what he thought of the settlements, as + soon as I should send him the draughts so kindly promised. And we parted + with great professions of mutual esteem; my beloved putting up vows for + the success of his generous mediation. + </p> + <p> + When I returned from attending the Captain down stairs, which I did to the + outward door, my beloved met me as I entered the dining-room; complacency + reigning in every lovely feature. + </p> + <p> + 'You see me already,' said she, 'another creature. You know not, Mr. + Lovelace, how near my heart this hoped-for reconciliation is. I am now + willing to banish every disagreeable remembrance. You know not, Sir, how + much you have obliged me. And O Mr. Lovelace, how happy I shall be, when + my heart is lightened from the all-sinking weight of a father's curse! + When my dear mamma—You don't know, Sir, half the excellencies of my + dear mamma! and what a kind heart she has, when it is left to follow its + own impulses—When this blessed mamma shall once more fold me to her + indulgent bosom! When I shall again have uncles and aunts, and a brother + and sister, all striving who shall show most kindness and favour to the + poor outcast, then no more an outcast—And you, Mr. Lovelace, to + behold all this, with welcome—What though a little cold at first? + when they come to know you better, and to see you oftener, no fresh causes + of disgust occurring, and you, as I hope, having entered upon a new + course, all will be warmer and warmer love on both sides, till every one + will perhaps wonder, how they came to set themselves against you.' + </p> + <p> + Then drying her tears with her handkerchief, after a few moments pausing, + on a sudden, as if recollecting that she had been led by her joy to an + expression of it which she had not intended I should see, she retired to + her chamber with precipitation; leaving me almost as unable to stand it as + herself. + </p> + <p> + In short, I was—I want words to say how I was—my nose had been + made to tingle before; my eyes have before been made to glisten by this + soul-moving beauty; but so very much affected, I never was—for, + trying to check my sensibility, it was too strong for me, and I even + sobbed— Yes, by my soul, I audibly sobbed, and was forced to turn + from her before she had well finished her affecting speech. + </p> + <p> + I want, methinks, now I have owned the odd sensation, to describe it to + thee—the thing was so strange to me—something choking, as it + were, in my throat—I know not how—yet, I must needs say, + though I am out of countenance upon the recollection, that there was + something very pretty in it; and I wish I could know it again, that I + might have a more perfect idea of it, and be better able to describe it to + thee. + </p> + <p> + But this effect of her joy on such an occasion gives me a high notion of + what that virtue must be [What other name can I call it?] which in a mind + so capable of delicate transport, should be able to make so charming a + creature, in her very bloom, all frost and snow to every advance of love + from the man she hates not. This must be all from education too—Must + it not, Belford? Can education have stronger force in a woman's heart than + nature?—Sure it cannot. But if it can, how entirely right are + parents to cultivate their daughters' minds, and to inspire them with + notions of reserve and distance to our sex: and indeed to make them think + highly of their own! for pride is an excellent substitute, let me tell + thee, where virtue shines not out, as the sun, in its own unborrowed + lustre. + </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> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + And now it is time to confess (and yet I know that thy conjectures are + aforehand with my exposition) that this Captain Tomlinson, who is so great + a favourite with my charmer, and who takes so much delight in healing + breaches, and reconciling differences, is neither a greater man nor a less + than honest Patrick M'Donald, attended by a discarded footman of his own + finding out. + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest what a various-lifed rascal he is; and to what better hopes + born and educated. But that ingenious knack of forgery, for which he was + expelled the Dublin-University, and a detection since in evidenceship, + have been his ruin. For these have thrown him from one country to another; + and at last, into the way of life, which would make him a fit husband for + Miss Howe's Townsend with her contrabands. He is, thou knowest, admirably + qualified for any enterprize that requires adroitness and solemnity. And + can there, after all, be a higher piece of justice, than to keep one + smuggler in readiness to play against another? + </p> + <p> + 'Well, but, Lovelace, (methinks thou questionest,) how camest thou to + venture upon such a contrivance as this, when, as thou hast told me, the + Lady used to be a month at a time at this uncle's; and must therefore, in + all probability, know, that there was not a Captain Tomlinson in all the + neighbourhood, at least no one of the name so intimate with him as this + man pretends to be?' + </p> + <p> + This objection, Jack, is so natural a one, that I could not help observing + to my charmer, that she must surely have heard her uncle speak of this + gentleman. No, she said, she never had. Besides she had not been at her + uncle Harlowe's for near ten months [this I had heard from her before]: + and there were several gentlemen who used the same green, whom she knew + not. + </p> + <p> + We are all very ready, thou knowest, to believe what she likes. + </p> + <p> + And what was the reason, thinkest thou, that she had not been of so long a + time at this uncle's?—Why, this old sinner, who imagines himself + entitled to call me to account for my freedoms with the sex, has lately + fallen into familiarities, as it is suspected, with his housekeeper; who + assumes airs upon it.—A cursed deluding sex!—In youth, middle + age, or dotage, they take us all in. + </p> + <p> + Dost thou not see, however, that this housekeeper knows nothing, nor is to + know any thing, of the treaty of reconciliation designed to be set on + foot; and therefore the uncle always comes to the Captain, the Captain + goes not to the uncle? And this I surmised to the lady. And then it was a + natural suggestion, that the Captain was the rather applied to, as he is a + stranger to the rest of the family—Need I tell thee the meaning of + all this? + </p> + <p> + But this intrigue of the antient is a piece of private history, the truth + of which my beloved cares not to own, and indeed affects to disbelieve: as + she does also some puisny gallantries of her foolish brother; which, by + way of recrimination, I have hinted at, without naming my informant in + their family. + </p> + <p> + 'Well but, methinks, thou questionest again, Is it not probable that Miss + Howe will make inquiry after such a man as Tomlinson?—And when she + cannot—' + </p> + <p> + I know what thou wouldst say—but I have no doubt, that Wilson will + be so good, if I desire it, as to give into my own hands any letter that + may be brought by Collins to his house, for a week to come. And now I hope + thou art satisfied. + </p> + <p> + I will conclude with a short story. + </p> + <p> + 'Two neighbouring sovereigns were at war together, about some pitiful + chuck-farthing thing or other; no matter what; for the least trifles will + set princes and children at loggerheads. Their armies had been drawn up in + battalia some days, and the news of a decisive action was expected every + hour to arrive at each court. At last, issue was joined; a bloody battle + was fought; and a fellow who had been a spectator of it, arriving, with + the news of a complete victory, at the capital of one of the princes some + time before the appointed couriers, the bells were set a ringing, bonfires + and illuminations were made, and the people went to bed intoxicated with + joy and good liquor. But the next day all was reversed: The victorious + enemy, pursuing his advantage, was expected every hour at the gates of the + almost defenceless capital. The first reporter was hereupon sought for, + and found; and being questioned, pleaded a great deal of merit, in that he + had, in so dismal a situation, taken such a space of time from the + distress of his fellow-citizens, and given it to festivity, as were the + hours between the false good news and the real bad.' + </p> + <p> + Do thou, Belford, make the application. This I know, that I have given + greater joy to my beloved, than she had thought would so soon fall to her + share. And as the human life is properly said to be chequerwork, no doubt + but a person of her prudence will make the best of it, and set off so much + good against so much bad, in order to strike as just a balance as + possible. + </p> + <p> + [The Lady, in three several letters, acquaints her friend with the most + material passages and conversations contained in those of Mr. Lovelace's + preceding. These are her words, on relating what the commission of the + pretended Tomlinson was, after the apprehensions that his distant inquiry + had given her:] + </p> + <p> + At last, my dear, all these doubts and fears were cleared up, and + banished; and, in their place, a delightful prospect was opened to me. For + it comes happily out, (but at present it must be an absolute secret, for + reasons which I shall mention in the sequel,) that the gentleman was sent + by my uncle Harlowe [I thought he could not be angry with me for ever]: + all owing to the conversation that passed between your good Mr. Hickman + and him. For although Mr. Hickman's application was too harshly rejected + at the time, my uncle could not but think better of it afterwards, and of + the arguments that worthy gentleman used in my favour. + </p> + <p> + Who, upon a passionate repulse, would despair of having a reasonable + request granted?—Who would not, by gentleness and condescension, + endeavour to leave favourable impressions upon an angry mind; which, when + it comes cooly to reflect, may induce it to work itself into a + condescending temper? To request a favour, as I have often said, is one + thing; to challenge it as our due, is another. And what right has a + petitioner to be angry at a repulse, if he has not a right to demand what + he sues for as a debt? + </p> + <p> + [She describes Captain Tomlinson, on his breakfast-visit, to be, a grave, + good sort of man. And in another place, a genteel man of great gravity, + and a good aspect; she believes upwards of fifty years of age. 'I liked + him, says she, as soon as I saw him.' + </p> + <p> + As her projects are now, she says, more favourable than heretofore, she + wishes, that her hopes of Mr. Lovelace's so-often-promised reformation + were better grounded than she is afraid they can be.] + </p> + <p> + We have both been extremely puzzled, my dear, says she, to reconcile some + parts of Mr. Lovelace's character with other parts of it: his good with + his bad; such of the former, in particular, as his generosity to his + tenants; his bounty to the innkeeper's daughter; his readiness to put me + upon doing kind things by my good Norton, and others. + </p> + <p> + A strange mixture in his mind, as I have told him! for he is certainly (as + I have reason to say, looking back upon his past behaviour to me in twenty + instances) a hard-hearted man.—Indeed, my dear, I have thought more + than once, that he had rather see me in tears than give me reason to be + pleased with him. + </p> + <p> + My cousin Morden says, that free livers are remorseless.* And so they must + be in the very nature of things. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XIX. See also Mr. Lovelace's own confession of the + delight he takes in a woman's tears, in different parts of his letters. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace is a proud man. We have both long ago observed that he is. + And I am truly afraid, that his very generosity is more owing to his pride + and his vanity, that that philanthropy (shall I call it?) which + distinguishes a beneficent mind. + </p> + <p> + Money he values not, but as a mean to support his pride and his + independence. And it is easy, as I have often thought, for a person to + part with a secondary appetite, when, by so doing, he can promote or + gratify a first. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid, my dear, that there must have been some fault in his + education. His natural bias was not, perhaps (as his power was likely to + be large) to do good and beneficent actions; but not, I doubt, from proper + motives. + </p> + <p> + If he had, his generosity would not have stopt at pride, but would have + struck into humanity; and then would he not have contented himself with + doing praiseworthy things by fits and starts, or, as if relying on the + doctrine of merits, he hoped by a good action to atone for a bad one;* but + he would have been uniformly noble, and done the good for its own sake. + </p> + <p> + * That the Lady judges rightly of him in this place, see Vol. I. Letter + XXXIV. where, giving the motive for his generosity to his Rosebud, he says—'As + I make it my rule, whenever I have committed a very capital enormity, to + do some good by way of atonement; and as I believe I am a pretty deal + indebted on that score; I intend to join an hundred pounds to Johnny's + aunt's hundred pounds, to make one innocent couple happy.'— Besides + which motive, he had a further view in answer in that instance of his + generosity; as may be seen in Vol. II. Letters XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. See + also the note, Vol. II. pp. 170, 171. + </p> + <p> + To show the consistence of his actions, as they now appear, with his views + and principles, as he lays them down in his first letters, it may be not + amiss to refer the reader to his letters, Vol. I. No. XXXIV. XXXV. + </p> + <p> + See also Vol. I. Letter XXX.—and Letter XL. for Clarissa's early + opinion of Mr. Lovelace.—Whence the coldness and indifference to + him, which he so repeatedly accuses her of, will be accounted for, more to + her glory, than to his honour. + </p> + <p> + O my dear! what a lot have I drawn! pride, this poor man's virtue; and + revenge, his other predominating quality!—This one consolation, + however, remains:—He is not an infidel, and unbeliever: had he been + an infidel, there would have been no room at all for hope of him; (but + priding himself, as he does, in his fertile invention) he would have been + utterly abandoned, irreclaimable, and a savage. + </p> + <p> + [When she comes to relate those occasions, which Mr. Lovelace in his + narrative acknowledges himself to be affected by, she thus expresses + herself:] + </p> + <p> + He endeavoured, as once before, to conceal his emotion. But why, my dear, + should these men (for Mr. Lovelace is not singular in this) think + themselves above giving these beautiful proofs of a feeling heart? Were it + in my power again to choose, or to refuse, I would reject the man with + contempt, who sought to suppress, or offered to deny, the power of being + visibly affected upon proper occasions, as either a savage-hearted + creature, or as one who was so ignorant of the principal glory of the + human nature, as to place his pride in a barbarous insensibility. + </p> + <p> + These lines translated from Juvenal by Mr. Tate, I have been often pleased + with: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Compassion proper to mankind appears: + Which Nature witness'd, when she lent us tears. + Of tender sentiments we only give + These proofs: To weep is our prerogative: + To show by pitying looks, and melting eyes, + How with a suff'ring friend we sympathise. + Who can all sense of other ills escape, + Is but a brute at best, in human shape. +</pre> + <p> + It cannot but yield me some pleasure, hardly as I have sometimes thought + of the people of the house, that such a good man as Captain Tomlinson had + spoken well of them, upon inquiry. + </p> + <p> + And here I stop a minute, my dear, to receive, in fancy, your kind + congratulation. + </p> + <p> + My next, I hope, will confirm my present, and open still more agreeable + prospects. Mean time be assured, that there cannot possibly any good + fortune befal me, which I shall look upon with equal delight to that I + have in your friendship. + </p> + <p> + My thankful compliments to your good Mr. Hickman, to whose kind invention + I am so much obliged on this occasion, conclude me, my dearest Miss Howe, + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and grateful CL. HARLOWE. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, MAY 30. + </p> + <p> + I have a letter from Lord M. Such a one as I would wish for, if I intended + matrimony. But as matters are circumstanced, I cannot think of showing it + to my beloved. + </p> + <p> + My Lord regrets, 'that he is not to be the Lady's nuptial father. He seems + apprehensive that I have still, specious as my reasons are, some mischief + in my head.' + </p> + <p> + He graciously consents, 'that I may marry when I please; and offers one or + both of my cousins to assist my bride, and to support her spirits on the + occasion; since, as he understands, she is so much afraid to venture with + me. + </p> + <p> + 'Pritchard, he tells me, has his final orders to draw up deeds for + assigning over to me, in perpetuity, 1000£. per annum: which he will + execute the same hour that the lady in person owns her marriage.' + </p> + <p> + He consents, 'that the jointure be made from my own estate.' + </p> + <p> + He wishes, 'that the Lady would have accepted of his draught; and commends + me for tendering it to her. But reproaches me for my pride in not keeping + it myself. What the right side gives up, the left, he says, may be the + better for.' + </p> + <p> + The girls, the left-sided girls, he means. + </p> + <p> + With all my heart. If I can have my Clarissa, the devil take every thing + else. + </p> + <p> + A good deal of other stuff writes the stupid peer; scribbling in several + places half a dozen lines, apparently for no other reason but to bring in + as many musty words in an old saw. + </p> + <p> + If thou sawest, 'How I can manage, since my beloved will wonder that I + have not an answer from my Lord to such a letter as I wrote to him; and if + I own I have one, will expect that I should shew it to her, as I did my + letter?—This I answer—'That I can be informed by Pritchard, + that my Lord has the gout in his right-hand; and has ordered him to attend + me in form, for my particular orders about the transfer:' And I can see + Pritchard, thou knowest, at the King's Arms, or wherever I please, at an + hour's warning; though he be at M. Hall, I in town; and he, by word of + mouth, can acquaint me with every thing in my Lord's letter that is + necessary for my charmer to know. + </p> + <p> + Whenever it suits me, I can resolve the old peer to his right hand, and + then can make him write a much more sensible letter than this that he has + now sent me. + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest, that an adroitness in the art of manual imitation, was one + of my earliest attainments. It has been said, on this occasion, that had I + been a bad man in meum and tuum matters, I should not have been fit to + live. As to the girls, we hold it no sin to cheat them. And are we not + told, that in being well deceived consists the whole of human happiness? + </p> + <p> + WEDNESDAY, MAY 31. + </p> + <p> + All still happier and happier. A very high honour done me: a chariot, + instead of a coach, permitted, purposely to indulge me in the subject of + subjects. + </p> + <p> + Our discourse in this sweet airing turned upon our future manner of life. + The day is bashfully promised me. Soon was the answer to my repeated + urgency. Our equipage, our servants, our liveries, were parts of the + delightful subject. A desire that the wretch who had given me intelligence + out of the family (honest Joseph Leman) might not be one of our menials; + and her resolution to have her faithful Hannah, whether recovered or not; + were signified; and both as readily assented to. + </p> + <p> + Her wishes, from my attentive behaviour, when with her at St. Paul's,* + that I would often accompany her to the Divine Service, were greatly + intimated, and as readily engaged for. I assured her, that I ever had + respected the clergy in a body; and some individuals of them (her Dr. + Lewen for one) highly: and that were not going to church an act of + religion, I thought it [as I told thee once] a most agreeable sight to see + rich and poor, all of a company, as I might say, assembled once a week in + one place, and each in his or her best attire, to worship the God that + made them. Nor could it be a hardship upon a man liberally educated, to + make one on so solemn an occasion, and to hear the harangue of a man of + letters, (though far from being the principal part of the service, as it + is too generally looked upon to be,) whose studies having taken a + different turn from his own, he must always have something new to say. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter V. ** Ibid. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and repeated the word new: but looked as if willing to + be satisfied for the present with this answer. To be sure, Jack, she means + to do great despight to his Satanic majesty in her hopes of reforming me. + No wonder, therefore, if he exerts himself to prevent her, and to be + revenged. But how came this in!—I am ever of party against myself.—One + day, I fancy, I shall hate myself on recollecting what I am about at this + instant. But I must stay till then. We must all of us do something to + repent of. + </p> + <p> + The reconciliation-prospect was enlarged upon. If her uncle Harlowe will + but pave the way to it, and if it can be brought about, she shall be + happy.—Happy, with a sigh, as it is now possible she can be! + </p> + <p> + She won't forbear, Jack! + </p> + <p> + I told her, that I had heard from Pritchard, just before we set out on our + airing, and expected him in town to-morrow from Lord M. to take my + directions. I spoke with gratitude of my Lord's kindness to me; and with + pleasure of Lady Sarah's, Lady Betty's, and my two cousins Montague's + veneration for her: as also of his Lordship's concern that his gout + hindered him from writing a reply with his own hand to my last. + </p> + <p> + She pitied my Lord. She pitied poor Mrs. Fretchville too; for she had the + goodness to inquire after her. The dear creature pitied every body that + seemed to want pity. Happy in her own prospects, she had leisure to look + abroad, and wishes every body equally happy. + </p> + <p> + It is likely to go very hard with Mrs. Fretchville. Her face, which she + had valued herself upon, will be utterly ruined. 'This good, however, as I + could not but observe, she may reap from so great an evil—as the + greater malady generally swallows up the less, she may have a grief on + this occasion, that may diminish the other grief, and make it tolerable.' + </p> + <p> + I had a gentle reprimand for this light turn on so heavy an evil—'For + what was the loss of beauty to the loss of a good husband?'—Excellent + creature! + </p> + <p> + Her hopes (and her pleasure upon those hopes) that Miss Howe's mother + would be reconciled to her, were also mentioned. Good Mrs. Howe was her + word, for a woman so covetous, and so remorseless in her covetousness, + that no one else will call her good. But this dear creature has such an + extension in her love, as to be capable of valuing the most insignificant + animal related to those whom she respects. Love me, and love my dog, I + have heard Lord M. say.—Who knows, but that I may in time, in + compliment to myself, bring her to think well of thee, Jack? + </p> + <p> + But what am I about? Am I not all this time arraigning my own heart?—I + know I am, by the remorse I feel in it, while my pen bears testimony to + her excellence. But yet I must add (for no selfish consideration shall + hinder me from doing justice to this admirable creature) that in this + conversation she demonstrated so much prudent knowledge in every thing + that relates to that part of the domestic management which falls under the + care of a mistress of a family, that I believe she has no equal of her + years in the world. + </p> + <p> + But, indeed, I know not the subject on which she does not talk with + admirable distinction; insomuch that could I but get over my prejudices + against matrimony, and resolve to walk in the dull beaten path of my + ancestors, I should be the happiest of men—and if I cannot, I may be + ten times more to be pitied than she. + </p> + <p> + My heart, my heart, Belford, is not to be trusted—I break off, to + re-peruse some of Miss Howe's virulence. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Cursed letters, these of Miss Howe, Jack!—Do thou turn back to those + of mine, where I take notice of them—I proceed— + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, my charmer was all gentleness, all ease, all serenity, + throughout this sweet excursion. Nor had she reason to be otherwise: for + it being the first time that I had the honour of her company alone, I was + resolved to encourage her, by my respectfulness, to repeat the favour. + </p> + <p> + On our return, I found the counsellor's clerk waiting for me, with a + draught of the marriage-settlements. + </p> + <p> + They are drawn, with only the necessary variations, from those made for my + mother. The original of which (now returned by the counsellor) as well as + the new draughts, I have put into my beloved's hands. + </p> + <p> + These settlements of my mother made the lawyer's work easy; nor can she + have a better precedent; the great Lord S. having settled them, at the + request of my mother's relations; all the difference, my charmer's are + 100l. per annum more than my mother's. + </p> + <p> + I offered to read to her the old deed, while she looked over the draught; + for she had refused her presence at the examination with the clerk: but + this she also declined. + </p> + <p> + I suppose she did not care to hear of so many children, first, second, + third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons, and as many daughters, to + be begotten upon the body of the said Clarissa Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + Charming matrimonial recitativoes!—though it is always said lawfully + begotten too—as if a man could beget children unlawfully upon the + body of his own wife.—But thinkest thou not that these arch rogues + the lawyers hereby intimate, that a man may have children by his wife + before marriage?—This must be what they mean. Why will these sly + fellows put an honest man in minds of such rogueries?—but hence, as + in numberless other instances, we see, that law and gospel are two very + different things. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas, in our absence, tried to get at the wainscot-box in the dark + closet. But it cannot be done without violence. And to run a risk of + consequence now, for mere curiosity-sake, would be inexcusable. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair and the nymphs are all of opinion, that I am now so much a + favourite, and have such a visible share in her confidence, and even in + her affections, that I may do what I will, and plead for excuse violence + of passion; which, they will have it, makes violence of action pardonable + with their sex; as well as allowed extenuation with the unconcerned of + both sexes; and they all offer their helping hands. Why not? they say: Has + she not passed for my wife before them all?—And is she not in a fine + way of being reconciled to her friends?—And was not the want of that + reconciliation the pretence for postponing the consummation? + </p> + <p> + They again urge me, since it is so difficult to make night my friend, to + an attempt in the day. They remind me, that the situation of their house + is such, that no noises can be heard out of it; and ridicule me for making + it necessary for a lady to be undressed. It was not always so with me, + poor old man! Sally told me; saucily flinging her handkerchief in my face. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, JUNE 2. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding my studied-for politeness and complaisance for some days + past; and though I have wanted courage to throw the mask quite aside; yet + I have made the dear creature more than once look about her, by the warm, + though decent expression of my passion. I have brought her to own, that I + am more than indifferent with her: but as to LOVE, which I pressed her to + acknowledge, what need of acknowledgments of that sort, when a woman + consents to marrying?—And once repulsing me with displeasure, the + proof of true love I was vowing for her, was RESPECT, not FREEDOM. And + offering to defend myself, she told me, that all the conception she had + been able to form of a faulty passion, was, that it must demonstrate + itself as mine sought to do. + </p> + <p> + I endeavoured to justify my passion, by laying over-delicacy at her door. + Over-delicacy, she said, was not my fault, if it were her's. She must + plainly tell me, that I appeared to her incapable of distinguishing what + were the requisites of a pure mind. Perhaps, had the libertine presumption + to imagine, that there was no difference in heart, nor any but what + proceeded from difference of education and custom, between the pure and + impure—and yet custom alone, as she observed, if I did so think, + would make a second nature, as well in good as in bad habits. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have just now been called to account for some innocent liberties which I + thought myself entitled to take before the women; as they suppose us to be + married, and now within view of consummation. + </p> + <p> + I took the lecture very hardly; and with impatience wished for the happy + day and hour when I might call her all my own, and meet with no check from + a niceness that had no example. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me with a bashful kind of contempt. I thought it contempt, + and required the reason for it; not being conscious of offence, as I told + her. + </p> + <p> + This is not the first time, Mr. Lovelace, said she, that I have had cause + to be displeased with you, when you, perhaps, have not thought yourself + exceptionable.—But, Sir, let me tell you, that the married state, in + my eye, is a state of purity, and [I think she told me] not of + licentiousness; so, at least, I understood her. + </p> + <p> + Marriage-purity, Jack!—Very comical, 'faith—yet, sweet dears, + half the female world ready to run away with a rake, because he is a rake; + and for no other reason; nay, every other reason against their choice of + such a one. + </p> + <p> + But have not you and I, Belford, seen young wives, who would be thought + modest! and, when maids, were fantastically shy; permit freedoms in public + from their uxorious husbands, which have shown, that both of them have + forgotten what belongs either to prudence or decency? while every modest + eye has sunk under the shameless effrontery, and every modest face been + covered with blushes for those who could not blush. + </p> + <p> + I once, upon such an occasion, proposed to a circle of a dozen, thus + scandalized, to withdraw; since they must needs see that as well the lady, + as the gentleman, wanted to be in private. This motion had its effect upon + the amorous pair; and I was applauded for the check given to their + licentiousness. + </p> + <p> + But, upon another occasion of this sort, I acted a little more in + character. For I ventured to make an attempt upon a bride, which I should + not have had the courage to make, had not the unblushing passiveness with + which she received her fond husband's public toyings (looking round her + with triumph rather than with shame, upon every lady present) incited my + curiosity to know if the same complacency might not be shown to a private + friend. 'Tis true, I was in honour obliged to keep the secret. But I never + saw the turtles bill afterwards, but I thought of number two to the same + female; and in my heart thanked the fond husband for the lesson he had + taught his wife. + </p> + <p> + From what I have said, thou wilt see, that I approve of my beloved's + exception to public loves. That, I hope, is all the charming icicle means + by marriage-purity, but to return. + </p> + <p> + From the whole of what I have mentioned to have passed between my beloved + and me, thou wilt gather, that I have not been a mere dangler, a Hickman, + in the passed days, though not absolutely active, and a Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature now considers herself as my wife-elect. The unsaddened + heart, no longer prudish, will not now, I hope, give the sable turn to + every address of the man she dislikes not. And yet she must keep up so + much reserve, as will justify past inflexibilities. 'Many and many a + pretty soul would yield, were she not afraid that the man she favoured + would think the worse of her for it.' That is also a part of the rake's + creed. But should she resent ever so strongly, she cannot now break with + me; since, if she does, there will be an end of the family reconciliation; + and that in a way highly discreditable to herself. + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY, JUNE 3. + </p> + <p> + Just returned from Doctors Commons. I have been endeavouring to get a + license. Very true, Jack. I have the mortification to find a difficulty, + as the lady is of rank and fortune, and as there is no consent of father + or next friend, in obtaining this all-fettering instrument. + </p> + <p> + I made report of this difficulty. 'It is very right,' she says, 'that such + difficulties should be made.'—But not to a man of my known fortune, + surely, Jack, though the woman were the daughter of a duke. + </p> + <p> + I asked, if she approved of the settlements? She said, she had compared + them with my mother's, and had no objection to them. She had written to + Miss Howe upon the subject, she owned; and to inform her of our present + situation.* + </p> + <p> + * As this letter of the Lady to Miss Howe contains no new matter, but what + may be collected from one of those of Mr. Lovelace, it is omitted. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Just now, in high good humour, my beloved returned me the draughts of the + settlements: a copy of which I have sent to Captain Tomlinson. She + complimented me, 'that she never had any doubt of my honour in cases of + this nature.' + </p> + <p> + In matters between man and man nobody ever had, thou knowest. + </p> + <p> + I had need, thou wilt say, to have some good qualities. + </p> + <p> + Great faults and great virtues are often found in the same person. In + nothing very bad, but as to women: and did not one of them begin with me.* + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. I. Letter XXXI. + </p> + <p> + We have held, that women have no souls. I am a very Turk in this point, + and willing to believe they have not. And if so, to whom shall I be + accountable for what I do to them? Nay, if souls they have, as there is no + sex in ethereals, nor need of any, what plea can a lady hold of injuries + done her in her lady-state, when there is an end of her lady-ship? + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, JUNE 5. + </p> + <p> + I am now almost in despair of succeeding with this charming frost-piece by + love or gentleness.—A copy of the draughts, as I told thee, has been + sent to Captain Tomlinson; and that by a special messenger. Engrossments + are proceeding with. I have been again at the Commons.—Should in all + probability have procured a license by Mallory's means, had not Mallory's + friend, the proctor, been suddenly sent for to Chestnut, to make an old + lady's will. Pritchard has told me by word of mouth, though my charmer saw + him not, all that was necessary for her to know in the letter my Lord + wrote, which I could not show her: and taken my directions about the + estates to be made over to me on my nuptials.—Yet, with all these + favourable appearances, no conceding moment to be found, no improvable + tenderness to be raised. + </p> + <p> + But never, I believe, was there so true, so delicate a modesty in the + human mind as in that of this lady. And this has been my security all + along; and, in spite of Miss Howe's advice to her, will be so still; + since, if her delicacy be a fault, she can no more overcome it than I can + my aversion to matrimony. Habit, habit, Jack, seest thou not? may subject + us both to weaknesses. And should she not have charity for me, as I have + for her? + </p> + <p> + Twice indeed with rapture, which once she called rude, did I salute her; + and each time resenting the freedom, did she retire; though, to do her + justice, she favoured me again with her presence at my first entreaty, and + took no notice of the cause of her withdrawing. + </p> + <p> + Is it policy to show so open a resentment for innocent liberties, which, + in her situation, she must so soon forgive? + </p> + <p> + Yet the woman who resents not initiatory freedoms must be lost. For love + is an encroacher. Love never goes backward. Love is always aspiring. + Always must aspire. Nothing but the highest act of love can satisfy an + indulged love. And what advantages has a lover, who values not breaking + the peace, over his mistress who is solicitous to keep it! + </p> + <p> + I have now at this instant wrought myself up, for the dozenth time, to a + half-resolution. A thousand agreeable things I have to say to her. She is + in the dining-room. Just gone up. She always expects me when there. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + High displeasure!—followed by an abrupt departure. + </p> + <p> + I sat down by her. I took both her hands in mine. I would have it so. All + gentle my voice. Her father mentioned with respect. Her mother with + reverence. Even her brother amicably spoken of. I never thought I could + have wished so ardently, as I told her I did wish, for a reconciliation + with her family. + </p> + <p> + A sweet and grateful flush then overspread her fair face; a gentle sigh + now-and-then heaved her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + I perfectly longed to hear from Captain Tomlinson. It was impossible for + the uncle to find fault with the draught of the settlements. I would not, + however, be understood, by sending them down, that I intended to put it in + her uncle's power to delay my happy day. When, when was it to be? + </p> + <p> + I would hasten again to the Commons; and would not return without the + license. + </p> + <p> + The Lawn I proposed to retire to, as soon as the happy ceremony was over. + This day and that day I proposed. + </p> + <p> + It was time enough to name the day, when the settlements were completed, + and the license obtained. Happy should she be, could the kind Captain + Tomlinson obtain her uncle's presence privately. + </p> + <p> + A good hint!—It may perhaps be improved upon—either for a + delay or a pacifier. + </p> + <p> + No new delays for Heaven's sake, I besought her; and reproached her gently + for the past. Name but the day—(an early day, I hoped it would be, + in the following week)—that I might hail its approach, and number + the tardy hours. + </p> + <p> + My cheek reclined on her shoulder—kissing her hands by turns. Rather + bashfully than angrily reluctant, her hands sought to be withdrawn; her + shoulder avoiding my reclined cheek—apparently loth, and more loth + to quarrel with me; her downcast eye confessing more than her lips can + utter. Now surely, thought I, is my time to try if she can forgive a still + bolder freedom than I had ever yet taken. + </p> + <p> + I then gave her struggling hands liberty. I put one arm round her waist: I + imprinted a kiss on her sweet lip, with a Be quiet only, and an averted + face, as if she feared another. + </p> + <p> + Encouraged by so gentle a repulse, the tenderest things I said; and then, + with my other hand, drew aside the handkerchief that concealed the beauty + of beauties, and pressed with my burning lips the most charming breast + that ever my ravished eyes beheld. + </p> + <p> + A very contrary passion to that which gave her bosom so delightful a + swell, immediately took place. She struggled out of my encircling arms + with indignation. I detained her reluctant hand. Let me go, said she. I + see there is no keeping terms with you. Base encroacher! Is this the + design of your flattering speeches? Far as matters have gone, I will for + ever renounce you. You have an odious heart. Let me go, I tell you. + </p> + <p> + I was forced to obey, and she flung from me, repeating base, and adding + flattering, encroacher. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + In vain have I urged by Dorcas for the promised favour of dining with her. + She would not dine at all. She could not. + </p> + <p> + But why makes she every inch of her person thus sacred?—So near the + time too, that she must suppose, that all will be my own by deed of + purchase and settlement? + </p> + <p> + She has read, no doubt, of the art of the eastern monarchs, who sequester + themselves from the eyes of their subjects, in order to excite their + adoration, when, upon some solemn occasions, they think fit to appear in + public. + </p> + <p> + But let me ask thee, Belford, whether (on these solemn occasions) the + preceding cavalcade; here a greater officer, and there a great minister, + with their satellites, and glaring equipages; do not prepare the eyes of + the wondering beholders, by degrees, to bear the blaze of canopy'd majesty + (what though but an ugly old man perhaps himself? yet) glittering in the + collected riches of his vast empire? + </p> + <p> + And should not my beloved, for her own sake, descend, by degrees, from + goddess-hood into humanity? If it be pride that restrains her, ought not + that pride to be punished? If, as in the eastern emperors, it be art as + well as pride, art is what she of all women need not use. If shame, what a + shame to be ashamed to communicate to her adorer's sight the most + admirable of her personal graces? + </p> + <p> + Let me perish, Belford, if I would not forego the brightest diadem in the + world, for the pleasure of seeing a twin Lovelace at each charming breast, + drawing from it his first sustenance; the pious task, for physical + reasons,* continued for one month and no more! + </p> + <p> + * In Pamela, Vol. III. Letter XXXII. these reasons are given, and are + worthy of every parent's consideration, as is the whole Letter, which + contains the debate between Mr. B. and his Pamela, on the important + subject of mothers being nurses to their own children. + </p> + <p> + I now, methinks, behold this most charming of women in this sweet office: + her conscious eye now dropt on one, now on the other, with a sigh of + maternal tenderness, and then raised up to my delighted eye, full of + wishes, for the sake of the pretty varlets, and for her own sake, that I + would deign to legitimate; that I would condescend to put on the nuptial + fetters. + </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. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + A letter received from the worthy Captain Tomlinson has introduced me into + the presence of my charmer sooner than perhaps I should otherwise have + been admitted. + </p> + <p> + Sullen her brow, at her first entrance into the dining-room. But I took no + notice of what had passed, and her anger of itself subsided. + </p> + <p> + 'The Captain, after letting me know that he chose not to write till he had + promised the draught of the settlements, acquaint me, that his friend Mr. + John Harlowe, in their first conference (which was held as soon as he got + down) was extremely surprised, and even grieved (as he feared he would be) + to hear that we were not married. The world, he said, who knew my + character, would be very censorious, were it owned, that we had lived so + long together unmarried in the same lodgings; although our marriage were + now to be ever so publicly celebrated. + </p> + <p> + 'His nephew James, he was sure, would make a great handle of it against + any motion that might be made towards a reconciliation; and with the + greater success, as there was not a family in the kingdom more jealous of + their honour than theirs.' + </p> + <p> + This is true of the Harlowes, Jack: they have been called The proud + Harlowes: and I have ever found, that all young honour is supercilious and + touchy. + </p> + <p> + But seest thou not how right I was in my endeavour to persuade my fair- + one to allow her uncle's friend to think us married; especially as he came + prepared to believe it; and as her uncle hoped it was so?—But + nothing on earth is so perverse as a woman, when she is set upon carrying + a point, and has a meek man, or one who loves his peace, to deal with. + </p> + <p> + My beloved was vexed. She pulled out her handkerchief: but was more + inclined to blame me than herself. + </p> + <p> + Had you kept your word, Mr. Lovelace, and left me when we came to town—And + there she stopt; for she knew, that it was her own fault that we were not + married before we left the country; and how could I leave her afterwards, + while her brother was plotting to carry her off by violence? + </p> + <p> + Nor has this brother yet given over his machinations. + </p> + <p> + For, as the Captain proceeds, 'Mr. John Harlowe owned to him (but in + confidence) that his nephew is at this time busied in endeavouring to find + out where we are; being assured (as I am not to be heard of at any of my + relations, or at my usual lodgings) that we are together. And that we are + not married is plain, as he will have it, from Mr. Hickman's application + so lately made to her uncle; and which was seconded by Mrs. Norton to her + mother. And her brother cannot bear that I should enjoy such a triumph + unmolested.' + </p> + <p> + A profound sigh, and the handkerchief again lifted to the eye. But did not + the sweet soul deserve this turn upon her, for feloniously resolving to + rob me of herself, had the application made by Hickman succeeded? + </p> + <p> + I read on to the following effect: + </p> + <p> + 'Why (asked Mr. Harlowe) was it said to his other inquiring friend, that + we were married; and that by his niece's woman, who ought to know? who + could give convincing reasons, no doubt'— + </p> + <p> + Here again she wept; took a turn across the room; then returned—Read + on, says she— + </p> + <p> + Will you, my dearest life, read it yourself? + </p> + <p> + I will take the letter with me, by-and-by—I cannot see to read it + just now, wiping her eyes—read on—let me hear it all—that + I may know your sentiments upon this letter, as well as give my own. + </p> + <p> + 'The Captain then told uncle John the reasons that induced me to give out + that we were married; and the conditions on which my beloved was brought + to countenance it; which had kept us at the most punctilious distance. + </p> + <p> + 'But still Mr. Harlowe objected my character. And went away dissatisfied. + And the Captain was also so much concerned, that he cared not to write + what the result of his first conference was. + </p> + <p> + 'But in the next, which was held on receipt of the draughts, at the + Captain's house, (as the former was, for the greater secrecy,) when the + old gentleman had read them, and had the Captain's opinion, he was much + better pleased. And yet he declared, that it would not be easy to persuade + any other person of his family to believe so favourably of the matter, as + he was now willing to believe, were they to know that we had lived so long + together unmarried. + </p> + <p> + 'And then the Captain says, his dear friend made a proposal:—It was + this—That we should marry out of hand, but as privately as possible, + as indeed he found we intended, (for he could have no objection to the + draughts)—but yet, he expected to have present one trusty friend of + his own, for his better satisfaction'— + </p> + <p> + Here I stopt, with a design to be angry—but she desiring me to read + on, I obeyed. + </p> + <p> + '—But that it should pass to every one living, except to that trusty + person, to himself, and to the Captain, that we were married from the time + that we had lived together in one house; and that this time should be made + to agree with that of Mr. Hickman's application to him from Miss Howe.' + </p> + <p> + This, my dearest life, said I, is a very considerate proposal. We have + nothing to do but to caution the people below properly on this head. I did + not think your uncle Harlowe capable of hitting upon such a charming + expedient as this. But you see how much his heart is in the + reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + This was the return I met with—You have always, as a mark of your + politeness, let me know how meanly you think of every one in my family. + </p> + <p> + Yet thou wilt think, Belford, that I could forgive her for the reproach. + </p> + <p> + 'The Captain does not know, says he, how this proposal will be relished by + us. But for his part, he thinks it an expedient that will obviate many + difficulties, and may possibly put an end to Mr. James Harlowe's further + designs: and on this account he has, by the uncle's advice, already + declared to two several persons, by whose means it may come to that young + gentleman's, that he [Captain Tomlinson] has very great reason to believe + that we were married soon after Mr. Hickman's application was rejected. + </p> + <p> + 'And this, Mr. Lovelace, (says the Captain,) will enable you to pay a + compliment to the family, that will not be unsuitable to the generosity of + some of the declarations you were pleased to make to the lady before me, + (and which Mr. John Harlowe may make some advantage of in favour of a + reconciliation,) in that you were entitled to make the demand.' An + excellent contriver, surely, she must think this worthy Mr. Tomlinson to + be! + </p> + <p> + But the Captain adds, 'that if either the lady or I disapprove of his + report of our marriage, he will retract it. Nevertheless, he must tell me, + that Mr. John Harlowe is very much set upon this way of proceeding; as the + only one, in his opinion, capable of being improved into a general + reconciliation. But if we do acquiesce in it, he beseeches my fair-one not + to suspend my day, that he may be authorized in what he says, as to the + truth of the main fact. [How conscientious this good man!] Nor must it be + expected, he says, that her uncle will take one step towards the + wished-for reconciliation, till the solemnity is actually over.' + </p> + <p> + He adds, 'that he shall be very soon in town on other affairs; and then + proposes to attend us, and give us a more particular account of all that + has passed, or shall further pass, between Mr. Harlowe and him.' + </p> + <p> + Well, my dearest life, what say you to your uncle's expedient? Shall I + write to the Captain, and acquaint him, that we have no objection to it? + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a few minutes. At last, with a sigh, See, Mr. Lovelace, + said she, what you have brought me to, by treading after you in such + crooked paths!—See what disgrace I have incurred!—Indeed you + have not acted like a wise man. + </p> + <p> + My beloved creature, do you not remember, how earnestly I besought the + honour of your hand before we came to town?—Had I been then favoured— + </p> + <p> + Well, well, Sir; there has been much amiss somewhere; that's all I will + say at present. And since what's past cannot be recalled, my uncle must be + obeyed, I think. + </p> + <p> + Charmingly dutiful!—I had nothing then to do, that I might not be + behind-hand with the worthy Captain and her uncle, but to press for the + day. This I fervently did. But (as I might have expected) she repeated her + former answer; to wit, That when the settlements were completed; when the + license was actually obtained; it would be time enough to name the day: + and, O Mr. Lovelace, said she, turning from me with a grace inimitably + tender, her handkerchief at her eyes, what a happiness, if my dear uncle + could be prevailed upon to be personally a father, on this occasion, to + the poor fatherless girl! + </p> + <p> + What's the matter with me!—Whence this dew-drop!—A tear!—As + I hope to be saved, it is a tear, Jack!—Very ready methinks!—Only + on reciting!—But her lovely image was before me, in the very + attitude she spoke the words—and indeed at the time she spoke them, + these lines of Shakespeare came into my head: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thy heart is big. Get thee apart and weep! + Passion, I see, is catching:—For my eye, + Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, + Begin to water— +</pre> + <p> + I withdrew, and wrote to the Captain to the following effect—'I + desired that he would be so good as to acquaint his dear friend that we + entirely acquiesced with what he had proposed; and had already properly + cautioned the gentlewomen of the house, and their servants, as well as our + own: and to tell him, That if he would in person give me the blessing of + his dear niece's hand, it would crown the wishes of both. In this case, I + consented, that his own day, as I presumed it would be a short one, should + be ours: that by this means the secret would be with fewer persons: that I + myself, as well as he, thought the ceremony could not be too privately + performed; and this not only for the sake of the wise end he had proposed + to answer by it, but because I would not have Lord M. think himself + slighted; since that nobleman, as I had told him [the Captain] had once + intended to be our nuptial-father; and actually made the offer; but that + we had declined to accept of it, and that for no other reason than to + avoid a public wedding; which his beloved niece would not come into, while + she was in disgrace with her friends. But that if he chose not to do us + this honour, I wished that Captain Tomlinson might be the trusty person + whom he would have be present on the happy occasion.' + </p> + <p> + I showed this letter to my fair-one. She was not displeased with it. So, + Jack, we cannot now move too fast, as to settlements and license: the day + is her uncle's day, or Captain Tomlinson's, perhaps, as shall best suit + the occasion. Miss Howe's smuggling scheme is now surely provided against + in all events. + </p> + <p> + But I will not by anticipation make thee a judge of all the benefits that + may flow from this my elaborate contrivance. Why will these girls put me + upon my master-strokes? + </p> + <p> + And now for a little mine which I am getting ready to spring. The first + that I have sprung, and at the rate I go on (now a resolution, and now a + remorse) perhaps the last that I shall attempt to spring. + </p> + <p> + A little mine, I call it. But it may be attended with great effects. I + shall not, however, absolutely depend upon the success of it, having much + more effectual ones in reserve. And yet great engines are often moved by + small springs. A little spark falling by accident into a powder-magazine, + hath done more execution in a siege, than an hundred cannon. + </p> + <p> + Come the worst, the hymeneal torch, and a white sheet, must be my amende + honorable, as the French have it. + </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. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY, JUNE 6. + </p> + <p> + Unsuccessful as hitherto my application to you has been, I cannot for the + heart of me forbear writing once more in behalf of this admirable woman: + and yet am unable to account for the zeal which impels me to take her part + with an earnestness so sincere. + </p> + <p> + But all her merit thou acknowledgest; all thy own vileness thou + confessest, and even gloriest in it: What hope then of moving so hardened + a man?—Yet, as it is not too late, and thou art nevertheless upon + the crisis, I am resolved to try what another letter will do. It is but my + writing in vain, if it do no good; and if thou wilt let me prevail, I + knowthou wilt hereafter think me richly entitled to thy thanks. + </p> + <p> + To argue with thee would be folly. The case cannot require it. I will only + entreat thee, therefore, that thou wilt not let such an excellence lose + the reward of her vigilant virtue. + </p> + <p> + I believe there never were libertines so vile, but purposed, at some + future period of their lives, to set about reforming: and let me beg of + thee, that thou wilt, in this great article, make thy future repentance as + easy, as some time hence thou wilt wish thou hadst made it. + </p> + <p> + If thou proceedest, I have no doubt that this affair will end tragically, + one way or another. It must. Such a woman must interest both gods and men + in her cause. But what I most apprehend is, that with her own hand, in + resentment of the perpetrated outrage, she (like another Lucretia) will + assert the purity of her heart: or, if her piety preserve her from this + violence, that wasting grief will soon put a period to her days. And, in + either case, will not the remembrance of thy ever-during guilt, and + transitory triumph, be a torment of torments to thee? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis a seriously sad thing, after all, that so fine a creature should have + fallen into such vile and remorseless hands: for, from thy cradle, as I + have heard thee own, thou ever delightedst to sport with and torment the + animal, whether bird or beast, that thou lovedst, and hadst a power over. + </p> + <p> + How different is the case of this fine woman from that of any other whom + thou hast seduced!—I need not mention to thee, nor insist upon the + striking difference: justice, gratitude, thy interest, thy vows, all + engaging thee; and thou certainly loving her, as far as thou art capable + of love, above all her sex. She not to be drawn aside by art, or to be + made to suffer from credulity, nor for want of wit and discernment, (that + will be another cutting reflection to so fine a mind as her's:) the + contention between you only unequal, as it is between naked innocence and + armed guilt. In every thing else, as thou ownest, her talents greatly + superior to thine!—What a fate will her's be, if thou art not at + last overcome by thy reiterated remorses! + </p> + <p> + At first, indeed, when I was admitted into her presence,* (and till I + observed her meaning air, and heard her speak,) I supposed that she had no + very uncommon judgment to boast of: for I made, as I thought, but just + allowances for her blossoming youth, and for that loveliness of person, + and for that ease and elegance in her dress, which I imagined must have + taken up half her time and study to cultivate; and yet I had been prepared + by thee to entertain a very high opinion of her sense and her reading. Her + choice of this gay fellow, upon such hazardous terms, (thought I,) is a + confirmation that her wit wants that maturity which only years and + experience can give it. Her knowledge (argued I to myself) must be all + theory; and the complaisance ever consorting with an age so green and so + gay, will make so inexperienced a lady at least forbear to show herself + disgusted at freedoms of discourse in which those present of her own sex, + and some of ours, (so learned, so well read, and so travelled,) allow + themselves. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter VII. + </p> + <p> + In this presumption I ran on; and having the advantage, as I conceited, of + all the company but you, and being desirous to appear in her eyes a mighty + clever fellow, I thought I showed away, when I said any foolish things + that had more sound than sense in them; and when I made silly jests, which + attracted the smiles of thy Sinclair, and the specious Partington: and + that Miss Harlowe did not smile too, I thought was owing to her youth or + affectation, or to a mixture of both, perhaps to a greater command of her + features.—Little dreamt I, that I was incurring her contempt all the + time. + </p> + <p> + But when, as I said, I heard her speak, which she did not till she had + fathomed us all; when I heard her sentiments on two or three subjects, and + took notice of the searching eye, darting into the very inmost cells of + our frothy brains; by my faith, it made me look about me; and I began to + recollect, and be ashamed of all I had said before; in short, was resolved + to sit silent, till every one had talked round, to keep my folly in + countenance. And then I raised the subjects that she could join in, and + which she did join in, so much to the confusion and surprise of every one + of us!—For even thou, Lovelace, so noted for smart wit, repartee, + and a vein of raillery, that delighteth all who come near thee, sattest in + palpable darkness, and lookedst about thee, as well as we. + </p> + <p> + One instance only of this shall I remind thee of. + </p> + <p> + We talked of wit, and of it, and aimed at it, bandying it like a ball from + one to another, and resting it chiefly with thee, who wert always proud + enough and vain enough of the attribute; and then more especially as thou + hadst assembled us, as far as I know, principally to show the lady thy + superiority over us; and us thy triumph over her. And then Tourville (who + is always satisfied with wit at second-hand; wit upon memory: other men's + wit) repeated some verses, as applicable to the subject; which two of us + applauded, though full of double entendre. Thou, seeing the lady's serious + air on one of those repetitions, appliedst thyself to her, desiring her + notions of wit: a quality, thou saidst, which every one prized, whether + flowing from himself, or found in another. + </p> + <p> + Then it was that she took all our attention. It was a quality much talked + of, she said, but, she believed, very little understood. At least, if she + might be so free as to give her judgment of it from what had passed in the + present conversation, she must say, that wit with men was one thing; with + women another. + </p> + <p> + This startled us all:—How the women looked!—How they pursed + their mouths; a broad smile the moment before upon each, from the verses + they had heard repeated, so well understood, as we saw, by their looks! + While I besought her to let us know, for our instruction, what wit with + women: for such I was sure it ought to be with men. + </p> + <p> + Cowley, she said, had defined it prettily by negatives. Thou desiredst her + to repeat his definition. + </p> + <p> + She did; and with so much graceful ease, and beauty, and propriety of + accent, as would have made bad poetry delightful. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A thousand diff'rent shapes it bears; + Comely in thousand shapes appears. + 'Tis not a tale, 'tis not a jest, + Admir'd with laughter at a feast, + Nor florid talk, which must this title gain: + The proofs of wit for ever must remain. + Much less can that have any place + At which a virgin hides her face. + Such dross the fire must purge away:—'Tis just + The author blush there, where the reader must. +</pre> + <p> + Here she stopt, looking round upon her upon us all with conscious + superiority, as I thought. Lord, how we stared! Thou attemptedst to give + us thy definition of wit, that thou mightest have something to say, and + not seem to be surprised into silent modesty. + </p> + <p> + But as if she cared not to trust thee with the subject, referring to the + same author as for his more positive decision, she thus, with the same + harmony of voice and accent, emphatically decided upon it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wit, like a luxurious vine, + Unless to virtue's prop it join, + Firm and erect, tow'rd heaven bound, +Tho' it with beauteous leaves and pleasant fruit be crown'd, +It lies deform'd, and rotting on the ground. +</pre> + <p> + If thou recollectest this part of the conversation, and how like fools we + looked at one another; how much it put us out of conceit with ourselves, + and made us fear her, when we found our conversation thus excluded from + the very character which our vanity had made us think unquestionably ours; + and if thou profitest properly by the recollection; thou wilt be of my + mind, that there is not so much wit in wickedness as we had flattered + ourselves there was. + </p> + <p> + And after all, I have been of opinion ever since that conversation, that + the wit of all the rakes and libertines down to little Johnny Hartop the + punster, consists mostly in saying bold and shocking things, with such + courage as shall make the modest blush, the impudent laugh, and the + ignorant stare. + </p> + <p> + And why dost thou think I mention these things, so mal-a-propos, as it may + seem!—Only, let me tell thee, as an instance (among many that might + be given from the same evening's conversation) of this fine woman's + superiority in those talents which ennoble nature, and dignify her sex—evidenced + not only to each of us, as we offended, but to the flippant Partington, + and the grosser, but egregiously hypocritical Sinclair, in the correcting + eye, the discouraging blush, in which was mixed as much displeasure as + modesty, and sometimes, as the occasion called for it, (for we were some + of us hardened above the sense of feeling delicate reproof,) by the + sovereign contempt, mingled with a disdainful kind of pity, that showed at + once her own conscious worth, and our despicable worthlessness. + </p> + <p> + O Lovelace! what then was the triumph, even in my eye, and what is it + still upon reflection, of true jest, laughing impertinence, and an + obscenity so shameful, even to the guilty, that they cannot hint at it but + under a double meaning! + </p> + <p> + Then, as thou hast somewhere observed,* all her correctives avowed by her + eye. Not poorly, like the generality of her sex, affecting ignorance of + meanings too obvious to be concealed; but so resenting, as to show each + impudent laugher the offence given to, and taken by a purity, that had + mistaken its way, when it fell into such company. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XLVIII. + </p> + <p> + Such is the woman, such is the angel, whom thou hast betrayed into thy + power, and wouldst deceive and ruin.—-Sweet creature! did she but + know how she is surrounded, (as I then thought, as well as now think,) and + what is intended, how much sooner would death be her choice, than so + dreadful a situation!—'And how effectually would her story, were it + generally known, warn all the sex against throwing themselves into the + power of ours, let our vows, oaths, and protestations, be what they will!' + </p> + <p> + But let me beg of thee, once more, my dear Lovelace, if thou hast any + regard for thine own honour, for the honour of thy family, for thy future + peace, or for my opinion of thee, (who yet pretend not to be so much moved + by principle, as by that dazzling merit which ought still more to attract + thee,) to be prevailed upon—to be—to be humane, that's all— + only, that thou wouldst not disgrace our common humanity! + </p> + <p> + Hardened as thou art, I know that they are the abandoned people in the + house who keep thee up to a resolution against her. O that the sagacious + fair-one (with so much innocent charity in her own heart) had not so + resolutely held those women at distance!—that as she boarded there, + she had oftener tabled with them! Specious as they are, in a week's time, + she would have seen through them; they could not have been always so + guarded, as they were when they saw her but seldom, and when they prepared + themselves to see her; and she would have fled their house as a place + infected. And yet, perhaps, with so determined an enterprizer, this + discovery might have accelerated her ruin. + </p> + <p> + I know that thou art nice in thy loves. But are there not hundreds of + women, who, though not utterly abandoned, would be taken with thee for + mere personal regards! Make a toy, if thou wilt, of principle, with + respect to such of the sex as regard it as a toy; but rob not an angel of + those purities, which, in her own opinion, constitute the difference + between angelic and brutal qualities. + </p> + <p> + With regard to the passion itself, the less of soul in either man or + woman, the more sensual are they. Thou, Lovelace, hast a soul, though a + corrupted one; and art more intent (as thou even gloriest) upon the + preparative stratagem, that upon the end of conquering. + </p> + <p> + See we not the natural bent of idiots and the crazed? The very appetite is + body; and when we ourselves are most fools, and crazed, then are we most + eager in these pursuits. See what fools this passion makes the wisest men! + What snivellers, what dotards, when they suffer themselves to be run away + with by it!—An unpermanent passion! Since, if (ashamed of its more + proper name) we must call it love, love gratified, is love satisfied—and + where consent on one side adds to the obligation on the other. What then + but remorse can follow a forcible attempt? + </p> + <p> + Do not even chaste lovers choose to be alone in their courtship + preparations, ashamed to have even a child to witness to their foolish + actions, and more foolish expressions? Is this deified passion, in its + greatest altitudes, fitted to stand the day? Do not the lovers, when + mutual consent awaits their wills, retire to coverts, and to darkness, to + complete their wishes? And shall such a sneaking passion as this, which + can be so easily gratified by viler objects, be permitted to debase the + noblest? + </p> + <p> + Were not the delays of thy vile purposes owing more to the awe which her + majestic virtue has inspired thee with, than to thy want of adroitness in + villany? [I must write my free sentiments in this case; for have I not + seen the angel?] I should be ready to censure some of thy contrivances and + pretences to suspend the expected day, as trite, stale, and (to me, who + know thy intention) poor; and too often resorted to, as nothing comes of + them to be gloried in; particularly that of Mennell, the vapourish lady, + and the ready-furnished house. + </p> + <p> + She must have thought so too, at times, and in her heart despised thee for + them, or love thee (ungrateful as thou art!) to her misfortune; as well as + entertain hope against probability. But this would afford another warning + to the sex, were they to know her story; 'as it would show them what poor + pretences they must seem to be satisfied with, if once they put themselves + into the power of a designing man.' + </p> + <p> + If trial only was thy end, as once was thy pretence,* enough surely hast + thou tried this paragon of virtue and vigilance. But I knew thee too well, + to expect, at the time, that thou wouldest stop there. 'Men of our cast + put no other bound to their views upon any of the sex, than what want of + power compels them to put.' I knew that from one advantage gained, thou + wouldest proceed to attempt another. Thy habitual aversion to wedlock too + well I knew; and indeed thou avowest thy hope to bring her to + cohabitation, in that very letter in which thou pretendest trial to be thy + principal view.** + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. ** Ibid. See also Letters XVI. and XVII. of + that volume. + </p> + <p> + But do not even thy own frequent and involuntary remorses, when thou hast + time, place, company, and every other circumstance, to favour thee in thy + wicked design, convince thee, that there can be no room for a hope so + presumptuous?—Why then, since thou wouldest choose to marry her + rather than lose her, wilt thou make her hate thee for ever? + </p> + <p> + But if thou darest to meditate personal trial, and art sincere in thy + resolution to reward her, as she behaves in it, let me beseech thee to + remove her from this vile house. That will be to give her and thy + conscience fair play. So entirely now does the sweet deluded excellence + depend upon her supposed happier prospects, that thou needest not to fear + that she will fly from thee, or that she will wish to have recourse to + that scheme of Miss Howe, which has put thee upon what thou callest thy + master-strokes. + </p> + <p> + But whatever be thy determination on this head; and if I write not in + time, but that thou hast actually pulled off the mask; let it not be one + of the devices, if thou wouldest avoid the curses of every heart, and + hereafter of thy own, to give her, no not for one hour, (be her resentment + ever so great,) into the power of that villanous woman, who has, if + possible, less remorse than thyself; and whose trade it is to break the + resisting spirit, and utterly to ruin the heart unpractised in evil.—O + Lovelace, Lovelace, how many dreadful stories could this horrid woman tell + the sex! And shall that of a Clarissa swell the guilty list? + </p> + <p> + But this I might have spared. Of this, devil as thou art, thou canst not + be capable. Thou couldst not enjoy a triumph so disgraceful to thy wicked + pride, as well as to humanity. + </p> + <p> + Shouldest thou think, that the melancholy spectacle hourly before me has + made me more serious than usual, perhaps thou wilt not be mistaken. But + nothing more is to be inferred from hence (were I even to return to my + former courses) but that whenever the time of cool reflection comes, + whether brought on by our own disasters, or by those of others, we shall + undoubtedly, if capable of thought, and if we have time for it, think in + the same manner. + </p> + <p> + We neither of us are such fools as to disbelieve a futurity, or to think, + whatever be our practice, that we came hither by chance, and for no end + but to do all the mischief we have it in our power to do. Nor am I ashamed + to own, that in the prayers which my poor uncle makes me read to him, in + the absence of a very good clergyman who regularly attends him, I do not + forget to put in a word or two for myself. + </p> + <p> + If, Lovelace, thou laughest at me, thy ridicule will be more conformable + to thy actions than to thy belief.—Devils believe and tremble. Canst + thou be more abandoned than they? + </p> + <p> + And here let me add, with regard to my poor old man, that I often wish + thee present but for one half hour in a day, to see the dregs of a gay + life running off in the most excruciating tortures that the cholic, the + stone, and the surgeon's knife can unitedly inflict, and to hear him + bewail the dissoluteness of his past life, in the bitterest anguish of a + spirit every hour expecting to be called to its last account.—Yet, + by all his confessions, he has not to accuse himself, in sixty-seven years + of life, of half the very vile enormities which you and I have committed + in the last seven only. + </p> + <p> + I conclude with recommending to your serious consideration all I have + written, as proceeding from the heart and soul of + </p> + <p> + Your assured friend, JOHN BELFORD + </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 AFTERNOON, JUNE 6. + </p> + <p> + Difficulties still to be got over in procuring this plaguy license. I ever + hated, and ever shall hate, these spiritual lawyers, and their court. + </p> + <p> + And now, Jack, if I have not secured victory, I have a retreat. + </p> + <p> + But hold—thy servant with a letter— + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + A confounded long one, though not a narrative one—Once more in + behalf of this lady?—Lie thee down, oddity! What canst thou write + that can have force upon me at this crisis?—And have I not, as I + went along, made thee to say all that was necessary for thee to say? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Yet once more I will take thee up. + </p> + <p> + Trite, stale, poor, (sayest thou,) are some of my contrivances; that of + the widow particularly!—I have no patience with thee. Had not that + contrivance its effect at that time, for a procrastination? and had I not + then reason to fear, that the lady would find enough to make her dislike + this house? and was it not right (intending what I intended) to lead her + on from time to time with a notion that a house of her own would be ready + for her soon, in order to induce her to continue here till it was? + </p> + <p> + Trite, stale, and poor!—Thou art a silly fellow, and no judge, when + thou sayest this. Had I not, like a blockhead, revealed to thee, as I went + along, the secret purposes of my heart, but had kept all in till the event + had explained my mysteries, I would have defied thee to have been able, + any more than the lady, to have guessed at what was to befall her, till it + had actually come to pass. Nor doubt I, in this case, that, instead of + presuming to reflect upon her for credulity, as loving me to her + misfortune, and for hoping against probability, thou wouldest have been + readier, by far, to censure her for nicety and over-scrupulousness. And, + let me tell thee, that had she loved me as I wished her to love me, she + could not possibly have been so very apprehensive of my designs, nor so + ready to be influenced by Miss Howe's precautions, as she has always been, + although my general character made not for me with her. + </p> + <p> + But, in thy opinion, I suffer for that simplicity in my contrivances, + which is their principal excellence. No machinery make I necessary. No + unnatural flights aim I at. All pure nature, taking advantage of nature, + as nature tends; and so simple my devices, that when they are known, thou, + even thou, imaginest thou couldest have thought of the same. And indeed + thou seemest to own, that the slight thou puttest upon them is owing to my + letting thee into them before-hand—undistingushing as well as + ungrateful as thou art! + </p> + <p> + Yet, after all, I would not have thee think that I do not know my weak + places. I have formerly told thee, that it is difficult for the ablest + general to say what he will do, or what he can do, when he is obliged to + regulate his motions by those of a watchful enemy.* If thou givest due + weight to this consideration, thou wilt not wonder that I should make many + marches and countermarches, some of which may appear, to a slight + observer, unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXXIX. + </p> + <p> + But let me cursorily enter into debate with thee on this subject, now I am + within sight of my journey's end. + </p> + <p> + Abundance of impertinent things thou tellest me in this letter; some of + which thou hadst from myself; others that I knew before. + </p> + <p> + All that thou sayest in this charming creature's praise is short of what I + have said and written on the inexhaustible subject. + </p> + <p> + Her virtue, her resistance, which are her merits, are my stimulatives. + have I not told thee so twenty times over? + </p> + <p> + Devil, as these girls between them call me, what of devil am I, but in my + contrivances? I am not more a devil than others in the end I aim at; for + when I have carried my point, it is still but one seduction. And I have + perhaps been spared the guilt of many seductions in the time. + </p> + <p> + What of uncommon would there be in this case, but for her watchfulness!—As + well as I love intrigue and stratagem, dost think that I had not rather + have gained my end with less trouble and less guilt? + </p> + <p> + The man, let me tell thee, who is as wicked as he can be, is a worse man + than I am. Let me ask any rake in England, if, resolving to carry his + point, he would have been so long about it? or have had so much + compunction as I have had? + </p> + <p> + Were every rake, nay, were every man, to sit down, as I do, and write all + that enters into his head, or into his heart, and to accuse himself with + equal freedom and truth, what an army of miscreants should I have to keep + me in countenance! + </p> + <p> + It is a maxim with some, that if they are left alone with a woman, and + make not an attempt upon her, she will think herself affronted—Are + not such men as these worse than I am? What an opinion must they have of + the whole sex! + </p> + <p> + Let me defend the sex I so dearly love. If these elder brethren of ours + think they have general reason for their assertion, they must have kept + very bad company, or must judge of women's hearts by their own. She must + be an abandoned woman, who will not shrink as a snail into its shell at a + gross and sudden attempt. A modest woman must be naturally cold, reserved, + and shy. She cannot be so much and so soon affected as libertines are apt + to imagine. She must, at least, have some confidence in the honour and + silence of a man, before desire can possibly put forth in her, to + encourage and meet his flame. For my own part, I have been always decent + in the company of women, till I was sure of them. Nor have I ever offered + a great offence, till I have found little ones passed over; and that they + shunned me not, when they knew my character. + </p> + <p> + My divine Clarissa has puzzled me, and beat me out of my play: at one + time, I hope to overcome by intimidating her; at another, by love; by the + amorous see-saw, as I have called it.* And I have only now to join + surprise to the other two, and see what can be done by all three. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XVI. + </p> + <p> + And whose property, I pray thee, shall I invade, if I pursue my schemes of + love and vengeance? Have not those who have a right to her renounced that + right? Have they not wilfully exposed her to dangers? Yet must know, that + such a woman would be considered as lawful prize by as many as could have + the opportunity to attempt her?—And had they not thus cruelly + exposed her, is she not a single woman? And need I tell thee, Jack, that + men of our cast, the best of them [the worst stick at nothing] think it a + great grace and favour done to the married men, if they leave them their + wives to themselves; and compound for their sisters, daughters, wards and + nieces? Shocking as these principles must be to a reflecting mind, yet + such thou knowest are the principles of thousands (who would not act so + generously as I have acted by almost all of the sex, over whom I have + obtained a power); and as often carried into practice, as their + opportunities or courage will permit.—Such therefore have no right + to blame me. + </p> + <p> + Thou repeatedly pleadest her sufferings from her family. But I have too + often answered this plea, to need to say any more now, than that she has + not suffered for my sake. For has she not been made the victim of the + malice of her rapacious brother and envious sister, who only waited for an + occasion to ruin her with her other relations; and took this as the first + to drive her out of the house; and, as it happened, into my arms?— + Thou knowest how much against her inclination. + </p> + <p> + As for her own sins, how many has the dear creature to answer for to love + and to me!—Twenty times, and twenty times twenty, has she not told + me, that she refused not the odious Solmes in favour to me? And as often + has she not offered to renounce me for the single life, if the implacables + would have received her on that condition?—Of what repetitions does + thy weak pity make me guilty? + </p> + <p> + To look a litter farther back: Canst thou forget what my sufferings were + from this haughty beauty in the whole time of my attendance upon her proud + motions, in the purlieus of Harlowe-place, and at the little White Hart, + at Neale, as we called it?—Did I not threaten vengeance upon her + then (and had I not reason?) for disappointing me of a promised interview? + </p> + <p> + O Jack! what a night had I in the bleak coppice adjoining to her father's + paddock! My linen and wig frozen; my limbs absolutely numbed; my fingers + only sensible of so much warmth as enabled me to hold a pen; and that + obtained by rubbing the skin off, and by beating with my hands my + shivering sides! Kneeling on the hoar moss on one knee, writing on the + other, if the stiff scrawl could be called writing! My feet, by the time I + had done, seeming to have taken root, and actually unable to support me + for some minutes!—Love and rage then kept my heart in motion, [and + only love and rage could do it,] or how much more than I did suffer must I + have suffered! + </p> + <p> + I told thee, at my melancholy return, what were the contents of the letter + I wrote.* And I showed thee afterwards her tyrannical answer to it.** + Thou, then, Jack, lovedst thy friend; and pitiedst thy poor suffering + Lovelace. Even the affronted God of Love approved then of my threatened + vengeance against the fair promiser; though of the night of my sufferings, + he is become an advocate for her. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. II. Letter XX. ** Ibid. + </p> + <p> + Nay, was it not he himself that brought to me my adorable Nemesis; and + both together put me upon this very vow, 'That I would never rest till I + had drawn in this goddess-daughter of the Harlowes to cohabit with me; and + that in the face of all their proud family?' + </p> + <p> + Nor canst thou forget this vow. At this instant I have thee before me, as + then thou sorrowfully lookedst. Thy strong features glowing with + compassion for me; thy lips twisted; thy forehead furrowed; thy whole face + drawn out from the stupid round into the ghastly oval; every muscle + contributing its power to complete the aspect grievous; and not one word + couldst thou utter, but Amen! to my vow. + </p> + <p> + And what of distinguishing love, or favour, or confidence, have I had from + her since, to make me forego this vow! + </p> + <p> + I renewed it not, indeed, afterwards; and actually, for a long season, was + willing to forget it; till repetitions of the same faults revived the + remembrance of the former. And now adding to those the contents of some of + Miss Howe's virulent letters, so lately come at, what canst thou say for + the rebel, consistent with thy loyalty to thy friend? + </p> + <p> + Every man to his genius and constitution. Hannibal was called The father + of warlike stratagems. Had Hannibal been a private man, and turned his + plotting head against the other sex; or had I been a general, and, turned + mine against such of my fellow-creatures of my own, as I thought myself + entitled to consider as my enemies, because they were born and lived in a + different climate; Hannibal would have done less mischief; Lovelace more.—That + would have been the difference. + </p> + <p> + Not a sovereign on earth, if he be not a good man, and if he be of a + warlike temper, but must do a thousand times more mischief than I. And + why? Because he has it in his power to do more. + </p> + <p> + An honest man, perhaps thou'lt say, will not wish to have it in his power + to do hurt. He ought not, let me tell him: for, if he have it, a thousand + to one but it makes him both wanton and wicked. + </p> + <p> + In what, then, am I so singularly vile? + </p> + <p> + In my contrivances thou wilt say, (for thou art my echo,) if not in my + proposed end of them. + </p> + <p> + How difficult does every man find it, as well as I, to forego a + predominant passion! I have three passions that sway me by turns; all + imperial ones—love, revenge, ambition or a desire of conquest. + </p> + <p> + As to this particular contrivance of Tomlinson and the uncle, which + perhaps thou wilt think a black one; that had been spared, had not these + innocent ladies put me upon finding a husband for their Mrs. Townsend: + that device, therefore, is but a preventive one. Thinkest thou that I + could bear to be outwitted? And may not this very contrivance save a world + of mischief? for dost thou think I would have tamely given up the lady to + Townsend's tars? + </p> + <p> + What meanest thou, except to overthrow thy own plea, when thou sayest, + that men of our cast know no other bound to their wickedness, but want of + power; yet knowest this lady to be in mine? + </p> + <p> + Enough, sayest thou, have I tried this paragon of virtue. Not so; for I + have not tried her at all—all I have been doing is but preparation + to a trial. + </p> + <p> + But thou art concerned for the means that I may have recourse to in the + trial, and for my veracity. + </p> + <p> + Silly fellow!—Did ever any man, thinkest thou, deceive a woman, but + at the expense of his veracity; how, otherwise, can he be said to deceive? + </p> + <p> + As to the means, thou dost not imagine that I expect a direct consent. My + main hope is but in a yielding reluctance; without which I will be sworn, + whatever rapes have been attempted, none ever were committed, one person + to one person. And good Queen Bess of England, had she been living, and + appealed to, would have declared herself of my mind. + </p> + <p> + It would not be amiss for the sex to know what our opinions are upon this + subject. I love to warn them. I wish no man to succeed with them but + myself. I told thee once, that though a rake, I am not a rake's friend.* + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. + </p> + <p> + Thou sayest, that I ever hated wedlock. And true thou sayest. And yet as + true, when thou tellest me, that I would rather marry than lose this lady. + And will she detest me for ever, thinkest thou, if I try her, and succeed + not?—Take care—take care, Jack!—Seest thou not that thou + warnest me that I do not try without resolving to conquer? + </p> + <p> + I must add, that I have for some time been convinced that I have done + wrong to scribble to thee so freely as I have done (and the more so, if I + make the lady legally mine); for has not every letter I have written to + thee been a bill of indictment against myself? I may partly curse my + vanity for it; and I think I will refrain for the future; for thou art + really very impertinent. + </p> + <p> + A good man, I own, might urge many of the things thou urgest; but, by my + soul, they come very awkwardly from thee. And thou must be sensible, that + I can answer every tittle of what you writest, upon the foot of the maxims + we have long held and pursued.—By the specimen above, thou wilt see + that I can. + </p> + <p> + And pr'ythee tell me, Jack, what but this that follows would have been the + epitome of mine and my beloved's story, after ten years' cohabitation, had + I never written to thee upon the subject, and had I not been my own + accuser? + </p> + <p> + 'Robert Lovelace, a notorious woman-eater, makes his addresses in an + honourable way to Miss Clarissa Harlowe; a young lady of the highest merit—fortunes + on both sides out of the question. + </p> + <p> + 'After encouragement given, he is insulted by her violent brother; who + thinks it his interest to discountenance the match; and who at last + challenging him, is obliged to take his worthless life at his hands. + </p> + <p> + 'The family, as much enraged, as if he had taken the life he gave, insult + him personally, and find out an odious lover for the young lady. + </p> + <p> + 'To avoid a forced marriage, she is prevailed upon to take a step which + throws her into Mr. Lovelace's protection. + </p> + <p> + 'Yet, disclaiming any passion for him, she repeatedly offers to renounce + him for ever, if, on that condition, her relations will receive her, and + free her from the address of the man she hates. + </p> + <p> + 'Mr. Lovelace, a man of strong passions, and, as some say, of great pride, + thinks himself under very little obligation to her on this account; and + not being naturally fond of marriage, and having so much reason to hate + her relations, endeavours to prevail upon her to live with him what he + calls the life of honour; and at last, by stratagem, art, and contrivance, + prevails. + </p> + <p> + 'He resolves never to marry any other woman: takes a pride to have her + called by his name: a church-rite all the difference between them: treats + her with deserved tenderness. Nobody questions their marriage but those + proud relations of her's, whom he wishes to question it. Every year a + charming boy. Fortunes to support the increasing family with splendor. A + tender father. Always a warm friend; a generous landlord; and a punctual + paymaster. Now-and-then however, perhaps, indulging with a new object, in + order to bring him back with greater delight to his charming Clarissa—his + only fault, love of the sex—which, nevertheless, the women say, will + cure itself—defensible thus far, that he breaks no contracts by his + rovings.'— + </p> + <p> + And what is there so very greatly amiss, AS THE WORLD GOES, in all this? + </p> + <p> + Let me aver, that there are thousands and ten thousands, who have worse + stories to tell than this would appear to be, had I not interested thee in + the progress to my great end. And besides, thou knowest that the character + I gave myself to Joseph Leman, as to my treatment of my mistress, is + pretty near the truth.* + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XLVIII. + </p> + <p> + Were I to be as much in earnest in my defence, as thou art warm in my + arraignment, I could convince thee, by other arguments, observations, and + comparisons, [Is not all human good and evil comparative?] that though + from my ingenuous temper (writing only to thee, who art master of every + secret of my heart) I am so ready to accuse myself in my narrations, yet I + have something to say for myself to myself, as I go along; though no one + else, perhaps, that was not a rake, would allow any weight to it.— + And this caution might I give to thousands, who would stoop for a stone to + throw at me: 'See that your own predominant passions, whatever they be, + hurry you not into as much wickedness as mine do me. See, if ye happen to + be better than I in some things, that ye are not worse in others; and in + points too, that may be of more extensive bad consequence, than that of + seducing a girl, (and taking care of her afterwards,) who, from her + cradle, is armed with cautions against the delusions of men.' And yet I am + not so partial to my own follies as to think lightly of this fault, when I + allow myself to think. + </p> + <p> + Another grave thing I will add, now my hand is in: 'So dearly do I love + the sex, that had I found that a character for virtue had been generally + necessary to recommend me to them, I should have had a much greater regard + to my morals, as to the sex, than I have had.' + </p> + <p> + To sum all up—I am sufficiently apprized, that men of worthy and + honest hearts, who never allowed themselves in premeditated evil, and who + take into the account the excellencies of this fine creature, will and + must not only condemn, but abhor me, were they to know as much of me as + thou dost. But, methinks, I would be glad to escape the censure of those + men, and of those women too, who have never known what capital trials and + temptations are; of those who have no genius for enterprise; of those who + want rather courage than will; and most particularly of those who have + only kept their secret better than I have kept, or wish to keep, mine. + Were those exceptions to take place, perhaps, Jack, I should have ten to + acquit to one that should condemn me. Have I not often said, that human + nature is a rogue? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I threatened above to refrain writing to thee. But take it not to heart, + Jack—I must write on, and cannot help it. + </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. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WEDNESDAY NIGHT, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Faith, Jack, thou hadst half undone me with thy nonsense, though I would + not own it on my yesterday's letter: my conscience of thy party before.— + But I think I am my own man again. + </p> + <p> + So near to execution my plot; so near springing my mine; all agreed upon + between the women and me; or I believe thou hadst overthrown me. + </p> + <p> + I have time for a few lines preparative to what is to happen in an hour or + two; and I love to write to the moment. + </p> + <p> + We have been extremely happy. How many agreeable days have we known + together!—What may the next two hours produce. + </p> + <p> + When I parted with my charmer, (which I did, with infinite reluctance, + half an hour ago,) it was upon her promise that she would not sit up to + write or read. For so engaging was the conversation to me, (and indeed my + behaviour throughout the whole of it was confessedly agreeable to her,) + that I insisted, if she did not directly retire to rest, that she should + add another happy hour to the former. + </p> + <p> + To have sat up writing or reading half the night, as she sometimes does, + would have frustrated my view, as thou wilt observe, when my little plot + unravels. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + What—What—What now!—Bounding villain! wouldst thou choke + me?— + </p> + <p> + I was speaking to my heart, Jack!—It was then at my throat.—And + what is all this for?—These shy women, how, when a man thinks + himself near the mark, do they tempest him! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Is all ready, Dorcas? Has my beloved kept her word with me?—Whether + are these billowy heavings owing more to love or to fear? I cannot tell, + for the soul of me, of which I have most. If I can but take her before her + apprehension, before her eloquence, is awake— + </p> + <p> + Limbs, why thus convulsed?—Knees, till now so firmly knit, why thus + relaxed? why beat you thus together? Will not these trembling fingers, + which twice have refused to direct the pen, fail me in the arduous moment? + </p> + <p> + Once again, why and for what all these convulsions? This project is not to + end in matrimony, surely! + </p> + <p> + But the consequences must be greater than I had thought of till this + moment—my beloved's destiny or my own may depend upon the issue of + the two next hours! + </p> + <p> + I will recede, I think!— + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Soft, O virgin saint, and safe as soft, be thy slumbers! + </p> + <p> + I will now once more turn to my friend Belford's letter. Thou shalt have + fair play, my charmer. I will reperuse what thy advocate has to say for + thee. Weak arguments will do, in the frame I am in!— + </p> + <p> + But, what, what's the matter!—What a double—But the uproar + abates!—What a double coward am I!—Or is it that I am taken in + a cowardly minute? for heroes have their fits of fear; cowards their brave + moments; and virtuous women, all but my Clarissa, their moment critical— + </p> + <p> + But thus coolly enjoying the reflection in a hurricane!—Again the + confusion is renewed— + </p> + <p> + What! Where!—How came it! + </p> + <p> + Is my beloved safe— + </p> + <p> + O wake not too roughly, my beloved! + </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. THURSDAY MORNING, FIVE O'CLOCK, (JUNE + 8.) + </p> + <p> + Now is my reformation secure; for I never shall love any other woman! Oh! + she is all variety! She must ever be new to me! Imagination cannot form; + much less can the pencil paint; nor can the soul of painting, poetry, + describe an angel so exquisitely, so elegantly lovely!—But I will + not by anticipation pacify thy impatience. Although the subject is too + hallowed for profane contemplation, yet shalt thou have the whole before + thee as it passed: and this not from a spirit wantoning in description + upon so rich a subject; but with a design to put a bound to thy roving + thoughts. It will be iniquity, greater than a Lovelace was ever guilty of, + to carry them farther than I shall acknowledge. + </p> + <p> + Thus then, connecting my last with the present, I lead to it. + </p> + <p> + Didst thou not, by the conclusion of my former, perceive the consternation + I was in, just as I was about to reperuse thy letter, in order to prevail + upon myself to recede from my purpose of awaking in terrors my slumbering + charmer? And what dost think was the matter? + </p> + <p> + I'll tell thee— + </p> + <p> + At a little after two, when the whole house was still, or seemed to be so, + and, as it proved, my Clarissa in bed, and fast asleep; I also in a manner + undressed (as indeed I was for an hour before) and in my gown and + slippers, though, to oblige thee, writing on!—I was alarmed by a + trampling noise over head, and a confused buz of mixed voices, some louder + than others, like scolding, and little short of screaming. While I was + wondering what could be the matter, down stairs ran Dorcas, and at my + door, in an accent rather frightedly and hoarsely inward than shrilly + clamorous, she cried out Fire! Fire! And this the more alarmed me, as she + seemed to endeavour to cry out louder, but could not. + </p> + <p> + My pen (its last scrawl a benediction on my beloved) dropped from my + fingers; and up started I; and making but three steps to the door, opening + it, cried out, Where! Where! almost as much terrified as the wench; while + she, more than half undrest, her petticoats in her hand, unable to speak + distinctly, pointed up stairs. + </p> + <p> + I was there in a moment, and found all owing to the carelessness of Mrs. + Sinclair's cook-maid, who having sat up to read the simple History of + Dorastus and Faunia, when she should have been in bed, had set fire to an + old pair of calico window-curtains. + </p> + <p> + She had had the presence of mind, in her fright, to tear down the half- + burnt vallens, as well as curtains, and had got them, though blazing, into + the chimney, by the time I came up; so that I had the satisfaction to find + the danger happily over. + </p> + <p> + Mean time Dorcas, after she had directed me up stairs, not knowing the + worst was over, and expecting every minute the house would be in a blaze, + out of tender regard for her lady, [I shall for ever love the wench for + it,] ran to her door, and rapping loudly at it, in a recovered voice, + cried out, with a shrillness equal to her love, Fire! Fire! The house is + on fire!—Rise, Madam!—This instant rise—if you would not + be burnt in your bed! + </p> + <p> + No sooner had she made this dreadful out-cry, but I heard her lady's door, + with hasty violence, unbar, unbolt, unlock, and open, and my charmer's + voice sounding like that of one going into a fit. + </p> + <p> + Thou mayest believe that I was greatly affected. I trembled with concern + for her, and hastened down faster than the alarm of fire had made me run + up, in order to satisfy her that all the danger was over. + </p> + <p> + When I had flown down to her chamber-door, there I beheld the most + charming creature in the world, supporting herself on the arm of the + gasping Dorcas, sighing, trembling, and ready to faint, with nothing on + but an under petticoat, her lovely bosom half open, and her feet just + slipped into her shoes. As soon as she saw me, she panted, and struggled + to speak; but could only say, O Mr. Lovelace! and down was ready to sink. + </p> + <p> + I clasped her in my arms with an ardour she never felt before: My dearest + life! fear nothing: I have been up—the danger is over—the fire + is got under—and how, foolish devil, [to Dorcas,] could you thus, by + your hideous yell, alarm and frighten my angel! + </p> + <p> + O Jack! how her sweet bosom, as I clasped her to mine, heaved and panted! + I could even distinguish her dear heart flutter, flutter, against mine; + and, for a few minutes, I feared she would go into fits. + </p> + <p> + Lest the half-lifeless charmer should catch cold in this undress, I lifted + her to her bed, and sat down by her upon the side of it, endeavouring with + the utmost tenderness, as well of action as expression, to dissipate her + terrors. + </p> + <p> + But what did I get by this my generous care of her, and my successful + endeavour to bring her to herself?—Nothing (ungrateful as she was!) + but the most passionate exclamations: for we had both already forgotten + the occasion, dreadful as it was, which had thrown her into my arms: I, + from the joy of encircling the almost disrobed body of the loveliest of + her sex; she, from the greater terrors that arose from finding herself in + my arms, and both seated on the bed, from which she had been so lately + frighted. + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, reflect upon the distance at which the watchful charmer + had hitherto kept me: reflect upon my love, and upon my sufferings for + her: reflect upon her vigilance, and how long I had laid in wait to elude + it; the awe I had stood in, because of her frozen virtue and + over-niceness; and that I never before was so happy with her; and then + think how ungovernable must be my transports in those happy moments!—And + yet, in my own account, I was both decent and generous. + </p> + <p> + But, far from being affected, as I wished, by an address so fervent, + (although from a man from whom she had so lately owned a regard, and with + whom, but an hour or two before, she had parted with so much + satisfaction,) I never saw a bitterer, or more moving grief, when she came + fully to herself. + </p> + <p> + She appealed to Heaven against my treachery, as she called it; while I, by + the most solemn vows, pleaded my own equal fright, and the reality of the + danger that had alarmed us both. + </p> + <p> + She conjured me, in the most solemn and affecting manner, by turns + threatening and soothing, to quit her apartment, and permit her to hide + herself from the light, and from every human eye. + </p> + <p> + I besought her pardon, yet could not avoid offending; and repeatedly + vowed, that the next morning's sun should witness our espousals. But + taking, I suppose, all my protestations of this kind as an indication that + I intended to proceed to the last extremity, she would hear nothing that I + said; but, redoubling her struggles to get from me, in broken accents, and + exclamations the most vehement, she protested, that she would not survive + what she called a treatment so disgraceful and villanous; and, looking all + wildly round her, as if for some instrument of mischief, she espied a pair + of sharp-pointed scissors on a chair by the bed-side, and endeavoured to + catch them up, with design to make her words good on the spot. + </p> + <p> + Seeing her desperation, I begged her to be pacified; that she would hear + me speak but one word; declaring that I intended no dishonour to her: and + having seized the scissors, I threw them into the chimney; and she still + insisting vehemently upon my distance, I permitted her to take the chair. + </p> + <p> + But, O the sweet discomposure!—Her bared shoulders, and arms so + inimitably fair and lovely: her spread hands crossed over her charming + neck; yet not half concealing its glossy beauties: the scanty coat, as she + rose from me, giving the whole of her admirable shape, and fine- turn'd + limbs: her eyes running over, yet seeming to threaten future vengeance: + and at last her lips uttering what every indignant look and glowing + feature portended: exclaiming as if I had done the worst I could do, and + vowing never to forgive me; wilt thou wonder if I resumed the incensed, + the already too-much-provoked fair-one? + </p> + <p> + I did; and clasped her once more to my bosom: but, considering the + delicacy of her frame, her force was amazing, and showed how much in + earnest she was in her resentment; for it was with the utmost difficulty + that I was able to hold her: nor could I prevent her sliding through my + arms, to fall upon her knees: which she did at my feet: and there in the + anguish of her soul, her streaming eyes lifted up to my face with + supplicating softness, hands folded, dishevelled hair; for her night + head-dress having fallen off in her struggling, her charming tresses fell + down in naturally shining ringlets, as if officious to conceal the + dazzling beauties of her neck and shoulders; her lovely bosom too heaving + with sighs, and broken sobs, as if to aid her quivering lips in pleading + for her—in this manner, but when her grief gave way to her speech, + in words pronounced with that emphatical propriety, which distinguishes + this admirable creature in her elocution from all the women I ever heard + speak, did she implore my compassion and my honour. + </p> + <p> + 'Consider me, dear Lovelace,' [dear was her charming word!] 'on my knees I + beg you to consider me as a poor creature who has no protector but you; + who has no defence but your honour: by that honour! by your humanity! by + all you have vowed! I conjure you not to make me abhor myself! not to make + me vile in my own eyes!' + </p> + <p> + I mentioned to-morrow as the happiest day of my life. + </p> + <p> + Tell me not of to-morrow. If indeed you mean me honourably, now, this very + instant NOW! you must show it, and be gone! you can never in a whole long + life repair the evils you NOW make me suffer! + </p> + <p> + Wicked wretch!—Insolent villain!—yes, she called me insolent + villain, although so much in my power! And for what!—only for + kissing (with passion indeed) her inimitable neck, her lips, her cheeks, + her forehead, and her streaming eyes, as this assemblage of beauties + offered itself at once to my ravished sight; she continuing kneeling at my + feet as I sat. + </p> + <p> + If I am a villain, Madam!—And then my grasping, but trembling hand—I + hope I did not hurt the tenderest and loveliest of all her beauties—If + I am a villain, Madam— + </p> + <p> + She tore my ruffle, shrunk from my happy hand, with amazing force and + agility, as with my other arm I would have encircled her waist. + </p> + <p> + Indeed you are!—the worst of villains!—Help! dear, blessed + people! and screamed out—No help for a poor creature! + </p> + <p> + Am I then a villain, Madam?—Am I then a villain, say you?—and + clasped both my arms about her, offering to raise her to my bounding + heart. + </p> + <p> + Oh! no!—And yet you are!—And again I was her dear Lovelace!—her + hands again clasped over her charming bosom:—Kill me! kill me!—if + I am odious enough in your eyes to deserve this treatment: and I will + thank you!—Too long, much too long has my life been a burden to me!—Or, + (wildly looking all round her,) give me but the means, and I will + instantly convince you that my honour is dearer to me than my life! + </p> + <p> + Then, with still folded hands, and fresh streaming eyes, I was her blessed + Lovelace; and she would thank me with her latest breath if I would permit + her to make that preference, or free her from farther indignities. + </p> + <p> + I sat suspended for a moment: by my soul, thought I, thou art, upon full + proof, an angel and no woman! still, however, close clasping her to my + bosom, as I raised her from her knees, she again slid through my arms, and + dropped upon them.—'See, Mr. Lovelace!—Good God! that I should + live to see this hour, and to bear this treatment!—See at your feet + a poor creature, imploring your pity; who, for your sake, is abandoned of + all the world. Let not my father's curse thus dreadfully operate! be not + you the inflicter, who have been the cause of it: but spare me, I beseech + you, spare me!—for how have I deserved this treatment from you? for + your own sake, if not for my sake, and as you would that God Almighty, in + your last hour, should have mercy upon you, spare me!' + </p> + <p> + What heart but must have been penetrated! + </p> + <p> + I would again have raised the dear suppliant from her knees; but she would + not be raised, till my softened mind, she said, had yielded to her prayer, + and bid her rise to be innocent. + </p> + <p> + Rise then, my angel! rise, and be what you are, and all you wish to be! + only pronounce me pardoned for what has passed, and tell me you will + continue to look upon me with that eye of favour and serenity which I have + been blessed with for some days past, and I will submit to my beloved + conqueress, whose power never was at so great an height with me, as now, + and retire to my apartment. + </p> + <p> + God Almighty, said she, hear your prayers in your most arduous moments, as + you have heard mine! and now leave me, this moment leave me, to my own + recollection: in that you will leave me to misery enough, and more than + you ought to wish to your bitterest enemy. + </p> + <p> + Impute not every thing, my best beloved, to design, for design it was not— + </p> + <p> + O Mr. Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + Upon my soul, Madam, the fire was real—[and so it was, Jack!]—The + house, my dearest life, might have been consumed by it, as you will be + convinced in the morning by ocular demonstration. + </p> + <p> + O Mr. Lovelace!— + </p> + <p> + Let my passion for you, Madam, and the unexpected meeting of you at your + chamber-door, in an attitude so charming— + </p> + <p> + Leave me, leave me, this moment!—I beseech you leave me; looking + wildly and in confusion about her, and upon herself. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, my dearest creature, for those liberties which, innocent as + they were, your too great delicacy may make you take amiss— + </p> + <p> + No more! no more!—leave me, I beseech you! again looking upon + herself, and round her, in a sweet confusion—Begone! begone! + </p> + <p> + Then weeping, she struggled vehemently to withdraw her hands, which all + the while I held between mine.—Her struggles!—O what + additional charms, as I now reflect, did her struggles give to every + feature, every limb, of a person so sweetly elegant and lovely! + </p> + <p> + Impossible, my dearest life, till you pronounce my pardon!—Say but + you forgive me!—say but you forgive me! + </p> + <p> + I beseech you to be gone! leave me to myself, that I may think what I can + do, and what I ought to do. + </p> + <p> + That, my dearest creature, is not enough. You must tell me that I am + forgiven; that you will see me to-morrow as if nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + And then I clasped her again in my arms, hoping she would not forgive me— + </p> + <p> + I will—I do forgive you—wretch that you are! + </p> + <p> + Nay, my Clarissa! and is it such a reluctant pardon, mingled with a word + so upbraiding, that I am to be put off with, when you are thus (clasping + her close to me) in my power? + </p> + <p> + I do, I do forgive you! + </p> + <p> + Heartily? + </p> + <p> + Yes, heartily! + </p> + <p> + And freely? + </p> + <p> + Freely! + </p> + <p> + And will you look upon me to-morrow as if nothing had passed? + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + I cannot take these peevish affirmatives, so much like intentional + negatives!—Say, you will, upon your honour. + </p> + <p> + Upon my honour, then—Oh! now, begone! begone!—and never never— + </p> + <p> + What! never, my angel!—Is this forgiveness? + </p> + <p> + Never, said she, let what has passed be remembered more! + </p> + <p> + I insisted upon one kiss to seal my pardon—and retired like a fool, + a woman's fool, as I was!—I sneakingly retired!—Couldst thou + have believed it? + </p> + <p> + But I had no sooner entered my own apartment, than reflecting upon the + opportunity I had lost, and that all I had gained was but an increase of + my own difficulties; and upon the ridicule I should meet with below upon a + weakness so much out of my usual character; I repented, and hastened back, + in hope that, through the distress of mind which I left her in, she had + not so soon fastened the door; and I was fully resolved to execute all my + purposes, be the consequence what it would; for, thought I, I have already + sinned beyond cordial forgiveness, I doubt; and if fits and desperation + ensue, I can but marry at last, and then I shall make her amends. + </p> + <p> + But I was justly punished; for her door was fast: and hearing her sigh and + sob, as if her heart would burst, My beloved creature, said I, rapping + gently, [the sobbings then ceasing,] I want but to say three words to you, + which must be the most acceptable you ever heard from me. Let me see you + out for one moment. + </p> + <p> + I thought I heard her coming to open the door, and my heart leapt in that + hope; but it was only to draw another bolt, to make it still the faster; + and she either could not or would not answer me, but retired to the + farther end of her apartment, to her closet, probably; and, more like a + fool than before, again I sneaked away. + </p> + <p> + This was mine, my plot! and this was all I made of it!—I love her + more than ever!—And well I may!—never saw I polished ivory so + beautiful as her arms and shoulders; never touched I velvet so soft as her + skin: her virgin bosom—O Belford, she is all perfection! then such + an elegance!— In her struggling losing her shoe, (but just slipt on, + as I told thee,) her pretty foot equally white and delicate as the hand of + any other woman, or even her own hand! + </p> + <p> + But seest thou not that I have a claim of merit for a grace that every + body hitherto had denied me? and that is for a capacity of being moved by + prayers and tears—Where, where, on this occasion, was the callous, + where the flint, by which my heart was said to be surrounded? + </p> + <p> + This, indeed, is the first instance, in the like case, that ever I was + wrought upon. But why? because, I never before encountered a resistance so + much in earnest: a resistance, in short, so irresistible. + </p> + <p> + What a triumph has her sex obtained in my thoughts by this trial, and this + resistance? + </p> + <p> + But if she can now forgive me—can!—she must. Has she not upon + her honour already done it?—But how will the dear creature keep that + part of her promise which engages her to see me in the morning as if + nothing had happened? + </p> + <p> + She would give the world, I fancy, to have the first interview over!—She + had not best reproach me—yet not to reproach me!—what a + charming puzzle!—Let her break her word with me at her peril. Fly me + she cannot—no appeals lie from my tribunal—What friend has she + in the world, if my compassion exert not itself in her favour?—and + then the worthy Captain Tomlinson, and her uncle Harlowe, will be able to + make all up for me, be my next offence what it may. + </p> + <p> + As to thy apprehensions of her committing any rashness upon herself, + whatever she might have done in her passion, if she could have seized upon + her scissors, or found any other weapon, I dare say there is no fear of + that from her deliberate mind. A man has trouble enough with these truly + pious, and truly virtuous girls; [now I believe there are such;] he had + need to have some benefit from, some security in, the rectitude of their + minds. + </p> + <p> + In short, I fear nothing in this lady but grief: yet that's a slow worker, + you know; and gives time to pop in a little joy between its sullen fits. + </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, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY MORNING, EIGHT O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Her chamber-door has not yet been opened. I must not expect she will + breakfast with me. Nor dine with me, I doubt. A little silly soul, what + troubles does she make to herself by her over-niceness!—All I have + done to her, would have been looked upon as a frolic only, a romping bout, + and laughed off by nine parts in ten of the sex accordingly. The more she + makes of it, the more painful to herself, as well as to me. + </p> + <p> + Why now, Jack, were it not better, upon her own notions, that she seemed + not so sensible as she will make herself to be, if she is very angry? + </p> + <p> + But perhaps I am more afraid than I need. I believe I am. From her + over-niceness arises my fear, more than from any extraordinary reason for + resentment. Next time, she may count herself very happy, if she come off + no worse. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature was so frightened, and so fatigued, last night, no + wonder she lies it out this morning. + </p> + <p> + I hope she has had more rest than I have had. Soft and balmy, I hope, have + been her slumbers, that she may meet me in tolerable temper. All sweetly + blushing and confounded—I know how she will look!—But why + should she, the sufferer, be ashamed, when I, the trespasser, am not? + </p> + <p> + But custom is a prodigious thing. The women are told how much their + blushes heighten their graces: they practise for them therefore: blushes + come as hastily when they call for them, as their tears: aye, that's it! + While we men, taking blushes for a sign of guilt or sheepishness, are + equally studious to suppress them. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + By my troth, Jack, I am half as much ashamed to see the women below, as my + fair-one can be to see me. I have not yet opened my door, that I may not + be obtruded upon my them. + </p> + <p> + After all, what devils may one make of the sex! To what a height of— + what shall I call it?—must those of it be arrived, who once loved a + man with so much distinction, as both Polly and Sally loved me; and yet + can have got so much above the pangs of jealousy, so much above the + mortifying reflections that arise from dividing and sharing with new + objects the affections of them they prefer to all others, as to wish for, + and promote a competitorship in his love, and make their supreme delight + consist in reducing others to their level!—For thou canst not + imagine, how even Sally Martin rejoiced last night in the thought that the + lady's hour was approaching. + </p> + <p> + PAST TEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I never longed in my life for any thing with so much impatience as to see + my charmer. She has been stirring, it seems, these two hours. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas just now tapped at her door, to take her morning commands. + </p> + <p> + She had none for her, was the answer. + </p> + <p> + She desired to know, if she would not breakfast? + </p> + <p> + A sullen and low-voiced negative received Dorcas. + </p> + <p> + I will go myself. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Three different times tapped I at the door, but had no answer. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, dearest creature, to inquire after your health. As you have not + been seen to-day, I am impatient to know how you do. + </p> + <p> + Not a word of answer; but a deep sigh, even to sobbing. + </p> + <p> + Let me beg of you, Madam, to accompany me up another pair of stairs— + you'll rejoice to see what a happy escape we have all had. + </p> + <p> + A happy escape indeed, Jack!—For the fire had scorched the + window-board, singed the hangings, and burnt through the slit-deal linings + of the window-jambs. + </p> + <p> + No answer, Madam!—Am I not worthy of one word?—Is it thus you + keep your promise with me?—Shall I not have the favour of your + company for two minutes [only for two minutes] in the dining-room? + </p> + <p> + Hem!—and a deep sigh!—were all the answer. + </p> + <p> + Answer me but how you do! Answer me but that you are well! Is this the + forgiveness that was the condition of my obedience? + </p> + <p> + Then, with a faintish, but angry voice, begone from my door!—Wretch! + inhuman, barbarous, and all that is base and treacherous! begone from my + door! Nor tease thus a poor creature, entitled to protection, not outrage. + </p> + <p> + I see, Madam, how you keep your word with me—if a sudden impulse, + the effects of an unthought-of accident, cannot be forgiven— + </p> + <p> + O the dreadful weight of a father's curse, thus in the very letter of it— + </p> + <p> + And then her voice dying away in murmurs inarticulate, I looked through + the key-hole, and saw her on her knees, her face, though not towards me, + lifted up, as well as hands, and these folded, depreciating, I suppose, + that gloomy tyrant's curse. + </p> + <p> + I could not help being moved. + </p> + <p> + My dearest life! admit me to your presence but for two minutes, and + confirm your promised pardon; and may lightning blast me on the spot, if I + offer any thing but my penitence, at a shrine so sacred!—I will + afterwards leave you for a whole day; till to-morrow morning; and then + attend you with writings, all ready to sign, a license obtained, or if it + cannot, a minister without one. This once believe me! When you see the + reality of the danger that gave occasion for this your unhappy resentment, + you will think less hardly of me. And let me beseech you to perform a + promise on which I made a reliance not altogether ungenerous. + </p> + <p> + I cannot see you! Would to Heaven I never had! If I write, that's all I + can do. + </p> + <p> + Let your writing then, my dearest life, confirm your promise: and I will + withdraw in expectation of it. + </p> + <p> + PAST ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + She rung her bell for Dorcas; and, with her door in her hand, only half + opened, gave her a billet for me. + </p> + <p> + How did the dear creature look, Dorcas? + </p> + <p> + She was dressed. She turned her face quite from me; and sighed, as if her + heart would break. + </p> + <p> + Sweet creature:—I kissed the wet wafer, and drew it from the paper + with my breath. + </p> + <p> + These are the contents.—No inscriptive Sir! No Mr. Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + I cannot see you: nor will I, if I can help it. Words cannot express the + anguish of my sou on your baseness and ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + If the circumstances of things are such, that I can have no way for + reconciliation with those who would have been my natural protectors from + such outrages, but through you, [the only inducement I have to stay a + moment longer in your knowledge,] pen and ink must be, at present, the + only means of communication between us. + </p> + <p> + Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters! how have I deserved from + you the shocking indignities—but no more—only for your own + sake, wish not, at least for a week to come, to see + </p> + <p> + The undeservedly injured and insulted CLARISSA HARLOWE + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + So thou seest, nothing could have stood me in stead, but this plot of + Tomlinson and her uncle! To what a pretty pass, nevertheless, have I + brought myself!—Had Caesar been such a fool, he had never passed the + rubicon. But after he had passed it, had he retreated re infecta, + intimidated by a senatorial edict, what a pretty figure would he have made + in history!—I might have known, that to attempt a robbery, and put a + person in bodily fear, is as punishable as if the robbery had been + actually committed. + </p> + <p> + But not to see her for a week!—Dear, pretty soul! how she + anticipates me in every thing! The counsellor will have finished the + writings to-day or to-morrow, at furthest: the license with the parson, or + the parson without the license, must also be procured within the next + four-and- twenty hours; Pritchard is as good as ready with his indentures + tripartite: Tomlinson is at hand with a favourable answer from her uncle + —yet not to see her for a week!——Dear sweet soul;—her + good angel is gone a journey: is truanting at least. But nevertheless, in + thy week's time, or in much less, my charmer, I doubt not to complete my + triumph! + </p> + <p> + But what vexes me of all things is, that such an excellent creature should + break her word:—Fie, fie, upon her!—But nobody is absolutely + perfect! 'Tis human to err, but not to persevere—I hope my charmer + cannot be inhuman! + </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. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. KING'S ARMS, PALL-MALL, THURSDAY, TWO + O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Several billets passed between us before I went out, by the + internuncioship of Dorcas: for which reason mine are superscribed by her + married name.—She would not open her door to receive them; lest I + should be near it, I suppose: so Dorcas was forced to put them under the + door (after copying them for thee); and thence to take the answers. Read + them, if thou wilt, at this place. + </p> + <p> + *** TO MRS. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dearest life, you carry this matter too far. What will the + people below, who suppose us one as to the ceremony, think of so great a + niceness? Liberties so innocent! the occasion so accidental!—You + will expose yourself as well as me.—Hitherto they know nothing of + what has passed. And what indeed has passed to occasion all this + resentment?—I am sure you will not, by a breach of your word of + honour, give me reason to conclude that, had I not obeyed you, I could + have fared no worse. + </p> + <p> + Most sincerely do I repent the offence given to your delicacy—But + must I, for so accidental an occurrence, be branded by such shocking + names?— Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters, are hard + words!—From the pen of such a lady too. + </p> + <p> + If you step up another pair of stairs, you will be convinced, that, + however detestable I may be to you, I am no plotter in this affair. + </p> + <p> + I must insist upon seeing you, in order to take your directions upon some + of the subjects we talked of yesterday in the evening. + </p> + <p> + All that is more than necessary is too much. I claim your promised pardon, + and wish to plead it on my knees. + </p> + <p> + I beg your presence in the dining-room for one quarter of an hour, and I + will then leave you for the day, I am, + </p> + <p> + My dearest life, Your ever adoring and truly penitent LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + *** TO MR. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + I will not see you. I cannot see you. I have no directions to give you. + Let Providence decide for me as it pleases. + </p> + <p> + The more I reflect upon your vileness, your ungrateful, your barbarous + vileness, the more I am exasperated against you. + </p> + <p> + You are the last person whose judgment I will take upon what is or is not + carried too far in matters of decency. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis grievous to me to write, or even to think of you at present. Urge me + no more then. Once more, I will not see you. Nor care I, now you have made + me vile to myself, what other people think of me. + </p> + <p> + *** TO MRS. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + Again, Madam, I remind you of your promise: and beg leave to say, I insist + upon the performance of it. + </p> + <p> + Remember, dearest creature, that the fault of a blameable person cannot + warrant a fault in one more perfect. Overniceness may be underniceness! + </p> + <p> + I cannot reproach myself with any thing that deserves this high + resentment. + </p> + <p> + I own that the violence of my passion for you might have carried me beyond + fit bounds—but that your commands and adjurations had power over me + at such a moment, I humbly presume to say, deserves some consideration. + </p> + <p> + You enjoin me not to see you for a week. If I have not your pardon before + Captain Tomlinson comes to town, what shall I say to him? + </p> + <p> + I beg once more your presence in the dining-room. By my soul, Madam, I + must see you. + </p> + <p> + I want to consult you about the license, and other particulars of great + importance. The people below think us married; and I cannot talk to you + upon such subjects with the door between us. + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake, favour me with your presence for a few minutes: and I + will leave you for the day. + </p> + <p> + If I am to be forgiven, according to your promise, the earlier forgiveness + will be most obliging, and will save great pain to yourself, as well as to + </p> + <p> + Your truly contrite and afflicted LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + *** TO MR. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + The more you tease me, the worse it will be for you. + </p> + <p> + Time is wanted to consider whether I ever should think of you at all. + </p> + <p> + At present, it is my sincere wish, that I may never more see your face. + </p> + <p> + All that can afford you the least shadow of favour from me, arises from + the hoped-for reconciliation with my real friends, not my Judas protector. + </p> + <p> + I am careless at present of consequences. I hate myself: And who is it I + have reason to value?—Not the man who could form a plot to disgrace + his own hopes, as well as a poor friendless creature, (made friendless by + himself,) by insults not to be thought of with patience. + </p> + <p> + *** TO MRS. LOVELACE + </p> + <p> + MADAM, I will go to the Commons, and proceed in every particular as if I + had not the misfortune to be under your displeasure. + </p> + <p> + I must insist upon it, that however faulty my passion, on so unexpected an + incident, made me appear to a lady of your delicacy, yet my compliance + with your entreaties at such a moment [as it gave you an instance of your + power over me, which few men could have shown] ought, duly considered, to + entitle me to the effects of that solemn promise which was the condition + of my obedience. + </p> + <p> + I hope to find you in a kinder, and, I will say, juster disposition on my + return. Whether I get the license, or not, let me beg of you to make the + soon you have been pleased to bid me hope for, to-morrow morning. This + will reconcile every thing, and make me the happiest of men. + </p> + <p> + The settlements are ready to sign, or will be by night. + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake, Madam, do not carry your resentment into a displeasure + so disproportionate to the offence. For that would be to expose us both to + the people below; and, what is of infinite more consequence to us, to + Captain Tomlinson. Let us be able, I beseech you, Madam, to assure him, on + his next visit, that we are one. + </p> + <p> + As I have no hope to be permitted to dine with you, I shall not return + till evening: and then, I presume to say, I expect [your promise + authorizes me to use the word] to find you disposed to bless, by your + consent for to-morrow, + </p> + <p> + Your adoring LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + What pleasure did I propose to take, how to enjoy the sweet confusion in + which I expected to find her, while all was so recent!—But she must, + she shall, see me on my return. It were better to herself, as well as for + me, that she had not made so much ado about nothing. I must keep my anger + alive, lest it sink into compassion. Love and compassion, be the + provocation ever so great, are hard to be separated: while anger converts + what would be pity, without it, into resentment. Nothing can be lovely in + a man's eye with which he is thoroughly displeased. + </p> + <p> + I ordered Dorcas, on putting the last billet under the door, and finding + it taken up, to tell her, that I hoped an answer to it before I went out. + </p> + <p> + Her reply was verbal, tell him that I care not whither he goes, nor what + he does.—And this, re-urged by Dorcas, was all she had to say to me. + </p> + <p> + I looked through the key-hole at my going by her door, and saw her on her + knees, at her bed's feet, her head and bosom on the bed, her arms + extended; [sweet creature how I adore her!] and in an agony she seemed to + be, sobbing, as I heard at that distance, as if her heart would break.— + By my soul, Jack, I am a pityful fellow! Recollection is my enemy!— + Divine excellence!—Happy with her for so many days together! Now so + unhappy!—And for what?—But she is purity herself. And why, + after all, should I thus torment—but I must not trust myself with + myself, in the humour I am in. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Waiting here for Mowbray and Mallory, by whose aid I am to get the + license, I took papers out of my pocket, to divert myself; and thy last + popt officiously the first into my hand. I gave it the honour of a + re-perusal; and this revived the subject with me, with which I had + resolved not to trust myself. + </p> + <p> + I remember, that the dear creature, in her torn answer to my proposals, + says, condescension is not meanness. She better knows how to make this + out, than any mortal breathing. Condescension indeed implies dignity: and + dignity ever was there in her condescension. Yet such a dignity as gave + grace to the condescension; for there was no pride, no insult, no apparent + superiority, indicated by it.—This, Miss Howe confirms to be a part + of her general character.* + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XXIII. + </p> + <p> + I can tell her, how she might behave, to make me her own for ever. She + knows she cannot fly me. She knows she must see me sooner or later; the + sooner the more gracious.—I would allow her to resent [not because + the liberties I took with her require resentment, were she not a CLARISSA; + but as it becomes her particular niceness to resent]: but would she show + more love than abhorrence of me in her resentment; would she seem, if it + were but to seem, to believe the fire no device, and all that followed + merely accidental; and descend, upon it, to tender expostulation, and + upbraiding for the advantage I would have taken of her surprise; and would + she, at last, be satisfied (as well she may) that it was attended with no + further consequence; and place some generous confidence in my honour, + [power loves to be trusted, Jack;] I think I would put an end to all her + trials, and pay her my vows at the altar. + </p> + <p> + Yet, to have taken such bold steps, as with Tomlinson and her uncle—to + have made such a progress—O Belford, Belford, how I have puzzled + myself, as well as her!—This cursed aversion to wedlock how it has + entangled me!—What contradictions has it made me guilty of! + </p> + <p> + How pleasing to myself, to look back upon the happy days I gave her; + though mine would doubtless have been unmixedly so, could I have + determined to lay aside my contrivances, and to be as sincere all the + time, as she deserved that I should be! + </p> + <p> + If I find this humour hold but till to-morrow morning, [and it has now + lasted two full hours, and I seem, methinks, to have pleasure in + encouraging it,] I will make thee a visit, I think, or get thee to come to + me; and then will I—consult thee upon it. + </p> + <p> + But she will not trust me. She will not confide in my honour. Doubt, in + this case, is defiance. She loves me not well enough to forgive me + generously. She is so greatly above me! How can I forgive her for a merit + so mortifying to my pride! She thinks, she knows, she has told me, that + she is above me. These words are still in my ears, 'Be gone, Lovelace!—My + soul is above thee, man!—Thou hast a proud heart to contend with!—My + soul is above thee, man!'* Miss Howe thinks her above me too. Thou, even + thou, my friend, my intimate friend and companion, art of the same + opinion. Then I fear her as much as I love her.—How shall my pride + bear these reflections? My wife (as I have often said, because it so often + recurs to my thoughts) to be so much my superior!— Myself to be + considered but as the second person in my own family!—Canst thou + teach me to bear such a reflection as this!—To tell me of my + acquisition in her, and that she, with all her excellencies, will be mine + in full property, is a mistake—it cannot be so—for shall I not + be her's; and not my own?—Will not every act of her duty (as I + cannot deserve it) be a condescension, and a triumph over me?—And + must I owe it merely to her goodness that she does not despise me?—To + have her condescend to bear with my follies!—To wound me with an eye + of pity!—A daughter of the Harlowes thus to excel the last, and as I + have heretofore said, not the meanest of the Lovelaces**—forbid it! + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XLVII. ** See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. + </p> + <p> + Yet forbid it not—for do I not now—do I not every moment—see + her before me all over charms, and elegance and purity, as in the + struggles of the past midnight? And in these struggles, heart, voice, + eyes, hand, and sentiments, so greatly, so gloriously consistent with the + character she has sustained from her cradle to the present hour? + </p> + <p> + But what advantages do I give thee? + </p> + <p> + Yet have I not always done her justice? Why then thy teasing impertinence? + </p> + <p> + However, I forgive thee, Jack—since (so much generous love am I + capable of!) I had rather all the world should condemn me, than that her + character should suffer the least impeachment. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature herself once told me, that there was a strange mixture + in my mind.* I have been called Devil and Beelzebub, between the two proud + beauties: I must indeed be a Beelzebub, if I had not some tolerable + qualities. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXXIII. + </p> + <p> + But as Miss Howe says, the suffering time of this excellent creature is + her shining time.* Hitherto she has done nothing but shine. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XXIII. + </p> + <p> + She called me villain, Belford, within these few hours. And what is the + sum of the present argument; but that had I not been a villain in her + sense of the word, she had not been such an angel? + </p> + <p> + O Jack, Jack! This midnight attempt has made me mad; has utterly undone + me! How can the dear creature say, I have made her vile in her own eyes, + when her behaviour under such a surprise, and her resentment under such + circumstances, have so greatly exalted her in mine? + </p> + <p> + Whence, however, this strange rhapsody?—Is it owing to my being + here? That I am not at Sinclair's? But if there be infection in that + house, how has my beloved escaped it? + </p> + <p> + But no more in this strain!—I will see what her behaviour will be on + my return—yet already do I begin to apprehend some little sinkings, + some little retrogradations: for I have just now a doubt arisen, whether, + for her own sake, I should wish her to forgive me lightly, or with + difficulty? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I am in a way to come at the wished-for license. + </p> + <p> + I have now given every thing between my beloved and me a full + consideration; and my puzzle is over. What has brought me to a speedier + determination is, that I think I have found out what she means by the + week's distance at which she intends to hold me. It is, that she may have + time to write to Miss Howe, to put in motion that cursed scheme of her's, + and to take measures upon it which shall enable her to abandon and + renounce me for ever. Now, Jack, if I obtain not admission to her presence + on my return; but am refused with haughtiness; if her week be insisted + upon (such prospects before her); I shall be confirmed in my conjecture; + and it will be plain to me, that weak at best was that love, which could + give place to punctilio, at a time when that all-reconciling ceremony, as + she must think, waits her command:—then will I recollect all her + perversenesses; then will I re-peruse Miss Howe's letters, and the + transcripts from others of them; give way to my aversion to the life of + shackles: and then shall she be mine in my own way. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, I am in hopes that she will have better considered of + every thing by the evening; that her threat of a week's distance was + thrown out in the heat of passion; and that she will allow, that I have as + much cause to quarrel with her for breach of her word, as she has with me + for breach of the peace. + </p> + <p> + These lines of Rowe have got into my head; and I shall repeat them very + devoutly all the way the chairman shall poppet me towards her by-and-by. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Teach me, some power, the happy art of speech, + To dress my purpose up in gracious words; + Such as may softly steal upon her soul, + And never waken the tempestuous passions. +</pre> + <p> + <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> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8. + </p> + <p> + O for a curse to kill with!—Ruined! Undone! Outwitted! Tricked!—Zounds, + man, the lady has gone off!—Absolutely gone off! Escaped!— + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest not, nor canst conceive, the pangs that wring my heart!— + What can I do!—O Lord, O Lord, O Lord! + </p> + <p> + And thou, too, who hast endeavoured to weaken my hands, wilt but clap thy + dragon's wings at the tidings! + </p> + <p> + Yet I must write, or I shall go distracted! Little less have I been these + two hours; dispatching messengers to every stage, to every inn, to every + waggon or coach, whether flying or creeping, and to every house with a + bill up, for five miles around. + </p> + <p> + The little hypocrite, who knows not a soul in this town, [I thought I was + sure of her at any time,] such an unexperienced traitress—giving me + hope too, in her first billet, that her expectation of the family- + reconciliation would withhold her from taking such a step as this—curse + upon her contrivances!—I thought, that it was owing to her + bashfulness, to her modesty, that, after a few innocent freedoms, she + could not look me in the face; when, all the while, she was impudently + [yes, I say, impudently, though she be Clarissa Harlowe] contriving to rob + me of the dearest property I had ever purchased—purchased by a + painful servitude of many months; fighting through the wild-beasts of her + family for her, and combating with a wind-mill virtue, which hath cost me + millions of perjuries only to attempt; and which now, with its damn'd + air-fans, has tost me a mile and a half beyond hope!—And this, just + as I had arrived within view of the consummation of all my wishes! + </p> + <p> + O Devil of Love! God of Love no more—how have I deserved this of + thee!—Never before the friend of frozen virtue?—Powerless + demon, for powerless thou must be, if thou meanedest not to frustrate my + hopes; who shall henceforth kneel at thy altars!—May every + enterprising heart abhor, despise, execrate, renounce thee, as I do!—But, + O Belford, Belford, what signifies cursing now! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + How she could effect this her wicked escape is my astonishment; the whole + sisterhood having charge of her;—for, as yet, I have not had + patience enough to inquire into the particulars, nor to let a soul of them + approach me. + </p> + <p> + Of this I am sure, or I had not brought her hither, there is not a + creature belonging to this house, that could be corrupted either by virtue + or remorse: the highest joy every infernal nymph, of this worse than + infernal habitation, could have known, would have been to reduce this + proud beauty to her own level.—And as to my villain, who also had + charge of her, he is such a seasoned varlet, that he delights in mischief + for the sake of it: no bribe could seduce him to betray his trust, were + there but wickedness in it!—'Tis well, however, he was out of my way + when the cursed news was imparted to me!—Gone, the villain! in quest + of her: not to return, nor to see my face [so it seems he declared] till + he has heard some tidings of her; and all the out-of-place varlets of his + numerous acquaintance are summoned and employed in the same business. + </p> + <p> + To what purpose brought I this angel (angel I must yet call her) to this + hellish house?—And was I not meditating to do her deserved honour? + By my soul, Belford, I was resolved—but thou knowest what I had + conditionally resolved—And now, who can tell into what hands she may + have fallen! + </p> + <p> + I am mad, stark mad, by Jupiter, at the thoughts of this!—Unprovided, + destitute, unacquainted—some villain, worse than myself, who adores + her not as I adore her, may have seized her, and taken advantage of her + distress!—Let me perish, Belford, if a whole hecatomb of innocents, + as the little plagues are called, shall atone for the broken promises and + wicked artifices of this cruel creature! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Going home, as I did, with resolutions favourable to her, judge thou of my + distraction, when her escape was first hinted to me, although but in + broken sentences. I knew not what I said, nor what I did. I wanted to kill + somebody. I flew out of one room into another, who broke the matter to me. + I charged bribery and corruption, in my first fury, upon all; and + threatened destruction to old and young, as they should come in my way. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas continues locked up from me: Sally and Polly have not yet dared to + appear: the vile Sinclair— + </p> + <p> + But here comes the odious devil. She taps at the door, thought that's only + a-jar, whining and snuffling, to try, I suppose, to coax me into temper. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + What a helpless state, where a man can only execrate himself and others; + the occasion of his rage remaining; the evil increasing upon reflection; + time itself conspiring to deepen it!—O how I curs'd her! + </p> + <p> + I have her now, methinks, before me, blubbering—how odious does + sorrow make an ugly face!—Thine, Jack, and this old beldam's, in + penitentials, instead of moving compassion, must evermore confirm hatred; + while beauty in tears, is beauty heightened, and what my heart has ever + delighted to see.—— + </p> + <p> + 'What excuse!—Confound you, and your cursed daughters, what excuse + can you make?—Is she not gone—Has she not escaped?—But + before I am quite distracted, before I commit half a hundred murders, let + me hear how it was.'—— + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have heard her story!—Art, damn'd, confounded, wicked, + unpardonable art, is a woman of her character—But show me a woman, + and I'll show thee a plotter!—This plaguy sex is art itself: every + individual of it is a plotter by nature. + </p> + <p> + This is the substance of the old wretch's account. + </p> + <p> + She told me, 'That I had no sooner left the vile house, than Dorcas + acquainted the syren' [Do, Jack, let me call her names!—I beseech + thee, Jack, to permit me to call her names!] 'that Dorcas acquainted her + lady with it; and that I had left word, that I was gone to + doctors-commons, and should be heard of for some hours at the Horn there, + if inquired after by the counsellor, or anybody else: that afterwards I + should be either at the Cocoa-tree, or King's-Arms, and should not return + till late. She then urged her to take some refreshment. + </p> + <p> + 'She was in tears when Dorcas approached her; her saucy eyes swelled with + weeping: she refused either to eat or drink; sighed as if her heart would + break.'—False, devilish grief! not the humble, silent, grief, that + only deserves pity!—Contriving to ruin me, to despoil me of all that + I held valuable, in the very midst of it. + </p> + <p> + 'Nevertheless, being resolved not to see me for a week at least, she + ordered her to bring up three or four French rolls, with a little butter, + and a decanter of water; telling her, she would dispense with her + attendance; and that should be all she should live upon in the interim. So + artful creature! pretending to lay up for a week's siege.'—For, as + to substantial food, she, no more than other angels—Angels! said I—the + devil take me if she be any more an angel!—for she is odious in my + eyes; and I hate her mortally! + </p> + <p> + But O Lovelace, thou liest!—She is all that is lovely. All that is + excellent! + </p> + <p> + But is she, can she be gone!—Oh! how Miss Howe will triumph!—But + if that little fury receive her, fate shall make me rich amends; for then + will I contrive to have them both. + </p> + <p> + I was looking back for connection—but the devil take connection; I + have no business with it: the contrary best befits distraction, and that + will soon be my lot! + </p> + <p> + 'Dorcas consulted the old wretch about obeying her: O yes, by all means; + for Mr. Lovelace knew how to come at her at any time: and directed a + bottle of sherry to be added. + </p> + <p> + 'This cheerful compliance so obliged her, that she was prevailed upon to + go up, and look at the damage done by the fire; and seemed not only + shocked by it, but, as they thought, satisfied it was no trick; as she + owned she had at first apprehended it to be. All this made them secure; + and they laughed in their sleeves, to think what a childish way of showing + her resentment she had found out; Sally throwing out her witticisms, that + Mrs. Lovelace was right, however, not to quarrel with her bread and + butter.' + </p> + <p> + Now this very childishness, as they imagined it, in such a genius, would + have made me suspect either her head, after what had happened the night + before; or her purpose, when the marriage was (so far as she knew) to be + completed within the week in which she was resolved to secrete herself + from me in the same house. + </p> + <p> + 'She sent Will. with a letter to Wilson's, directed to Miss Howe, ordering + him to inquire if there were not one for her there. + </p> + <p> + 'He only pretended to go, and brought word there was none; and put her + letter in his pocket for me. + </p> + <p> + 'She then ordered him to carry another (which she gave him) to the Horn + Tavern to me.—All this done without any seeming hurry: yet she + appeared to be very solemn; and put her handkerchief frequently to her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + 'Will. pretended to come to me with this letter. But thou the dog had the + sagacity to mistrust something on her sending him out a second time; (and + to me, whom she had refused to see;) which he thought extraordinary; and + mentioned his mistrusts to Sally, Polly, and Dorcas; yet they made light + of his suspicions; Dorcas assuring them all, that her lady seemed more + stupid with her grief, than active; and that she really believed she was a + little turned in her head, and knew not what she did. But all of them + depended upon her inexperience, her open temper, and upon her not making + the least motion towards going out, or to have a coach or chair called, as + sometimes she had done; and still more upon the preparations she had made + for a week's siege, as I may call it. + </p> + <p> + 'Will. went out, pretending to bring the letter to me; but quickly + returned; his heart still misgiving him, on recollecting my frequent + cautions, that he was not to judge for himself, when he had positive + orders; but if any doubt occurred, from circumstances I could not foresee, + literally to follow them, as the only way to avoid blame. + </p> + <p> + 'But it must have been in this little interval, that she escaped; for soon + after his return, they made fast the street-door and hatch, the mother and + the two nymphs taking a little turn into the garden; Dorcas going up + stairs, and Will. (to avoid being seen by his lady, or his voice heard) + down into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + 'About half an hour after, Dorcas, who had planted herself where she could + see her lady's door open, had the curiosity to go look through the + keyhole, having a misgiving, as she said, that the lady might offer some + violence to herself, in the mood she had been in all day; and finding the + key in the door, which was not very usual, she tapped at it three or four + times, and having no answer, opened it, with Madam, Madam, did you call? + —Supposing her in her closet. + </p> + <p> + 'Having no answer, she stept forward, and was astonished to find she was + not there. She hastily ran into the dining-room, then into my apartments; + searched every closet; dreading all the time to behold some sad + catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + 'Not finding her any where, she ran down to the old creature, and her + nymphs, with a Have you seen my lady?—Then she's gone!—She's + no where above! + </p> + <p> + 'They were sure she could not be gone out. + </p> + <p> + 'The whole house was in an uproar in an instant; some running up-stairs, + some down, from the upper rooms to the lower; and all screaming, How + should they look me in the face! + </p> + <p> + 'Will. cried out, he was a dead man: he blamed them; they him; and every + one was an accuser, and an excuser, at the same time. + </p> + <p> + 'When they had searched the whole house, and every closet in it, ten times + over, to no purpose, they took it into their heads to send to all the + porters, chairmen, and hackney-coachmen, that had been near the house for + two hours past, to inquire if any of them saw such a young lady; + describing her. + </p> + <p> + 'This brought them some light: the only dawning for hope, that I can have, + and which keeps me from absolute despair. One of the chairmen gave them + this account: That he saw such a one come out of the house a little before + four (in a great hurry, and as if frighted) with a little parcel tied up + in a handkerchief, in her hand: that he took notice to his fellow, who + plied her without her answering, that she was a fine young lady: that he'd + warrant, she had either a husband, or very cross parents; for that her + eyes seemed swelled with crying. Upon which, a third fellow replied, that + it might be a doe escaped from mother Damnable's park. This Mrs. Sinclair + told me with a curse, and a wish that she had a better reputation; so + handsomely as she lived, and so justly as she paid every body for what she + bought; her house visited by the best and civilest of gentlemen; and no + noise or brawls ever heard or known in it. + </p> + <p> + 'From these appearances, the fellow who gave this information, had the + curiosity to follow her, unperceived. She often looked back. Every body + who passed her, turned to look after her; passing their verdict upon her + tears, her hurry, and her charming person; till coming to a stand of + coaches, a coachman plied her; was accepted; alighted; opened the + coach-door in a hurry, seeing her hurry; and in it she stumbled for haste; + and, as the fellow believed, hurt her shin with the stumble.' + </p> + <p> + The devil take me, Belford, if my generous heart is not moved for her, + notwithstanding her wicked deceit, to think what must be her reflections + and apprehensions at the time:—A mind so delicate, heeding no + censures; yet, probably afraid of being laid hold of by a Lovelace in + every one she saw! At the same time, not knowing to what dangers she was + about to expose herself; nor of whom she could obtain shelter; a stranger + to the town, and to all its ways; the afternoon far gone: but little + money; and no clothes but those she had on! + </p> + <p> + It is impossible, in this little interval since last night, that Miss + Howe's Townsend could be co-operating. + </p> + <p> + But how she must abhor me to run all these risques; how heartily she must + detest me for my freedoms of last night! Oh! that I had given her greater + reason for a resentment so violent!—As to her virtue, I am too much + enraged to give her the merit due to that. To virtue it cannot be owing + that she should fly from the charming prospects that were before her; but + to malice, hatred, contempt, Harlowe pride, (the worst of pride,) and to + all the deadly passions that ever reigned in a female breast—and if + I can but recover her—But be still, be calm, be hushed, my stormy + passions; for is it not Clarissa [Harlowe must I say?] that thus far I + rave against? + </p> + <p> + 'The fellow heard her say, drive fast! very fast! Where, Madam? To + Holborn-bars, answered she; repeating, Drive very fast!—And up she + pulled both the windows: and he lost sight of the coach in a minute. + </p> + <p> + 'Will., as soon as he had this intelligence, speeded away in hopes to + trace her out; declaring, that he would never think of seeing me, till he + had heard some tidings of his lady.' + </p> + <p> + And now, Belford, all my hope is, that this fellow (who attended us in our + airing to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill, to Kentish-town) will + hear of her at some one or other of those places. And on this I the rather + build, as I remember she was once, after our return, very inquisitive + about the stages, and their prices; praising the conveniency to passengers + in their going off every hour; and this in Will.'s hearing, who was then + in attendance. Woe be to the villain, if he recollect not this! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have been traversing her room, meditating, or taking up every thing she + but touched or used: the glass she dressed at, I was ready to break, for + not giving me the personal image it was wont to reflect of her, whose idea + is for ever present with me. I call for her, now in the tenderest, now in + the most reproachful terms, as if within hearing: wanting her, I want my + own soul, at least every thing dear to it. What a void in my heart! what a + chilness in my blood, as if its circulation was arrested! From her room to + my own; in the dining-room, and in and out of every place where I have + seen the beloved of my heart, do I hurry; in none can I tarry; her lovely + image in every one, in some lively attitude, rushing cruelly upon me, in + differently remembered conversations. + </p> + <p> + But when in my first fury, at my return, I went up two pairs of stairs, + resolved to find the locked-up Dorcas, and beheld the vainly-burnt + window-board, and recollected my baffled contrivances, baffled by my own + weak folly, I thought my distraction completed; and down I ran as one + frighted at a spectre, ready to howl for vexation; my head and my temples + shooting with a violence I had never felt before; and my back aching as if + the vertebrae were disjointed, and falling in pieces. + </p> + <p> + But now that I have heard the mother's story, and contemplated the dawning + hopes given by the chairman's information, I am a good deal easier, and + can make cooler reflections. Most heartily pray I for Will.'s success, + every four or five minutes. If I lose her, all my rage will return with + redoubled fury. The disgrace to be thus outwitted by a novice, an infant + in stratagem and contrivance, added to the violence of my passion for her, + will either break my heart, or (what saves many a heart, in evils + insupportable) turn my brain. What had I to do to go out a + license-hunting, at least till I had seen her, and made up matters with + her? And indeed, were it not the privilege of a principal to lay all his + own faults upon his underlings, and never be to blame himself, I should be + apt to reflect, that I am more in fault than any body. And, as the sting + of this reflection will sharpen upon me, if I recover her not, how shall I + ever be able to bear it? + </p> + <p> + If ever— + </p> + <p> + [Here Mr. Lovelace lays himself under a curse, too shocking to be + repeated, if he revenge not himself upon the Lady, should he once more get + her into his hands.] + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have just now dismissed the sniveling toad Dorcas, who was introduced to + me for my pardon by the whining mother. I gave her a kind of negative and + ungracious forgiveness. Yet I shall as violently curse the two nymphs, + by-and-by, for the consequences of my own folly: and if this will be a + good way too to prevent their ridicule upon me, for losing so glorious an + opportunity as I had last night, or rather this morning. + </p> + <p> + I have corrected, from the result of the inquiries made of the chairman, + and from Dorcas's observations before the cruel creature escaped, a + description of her dress; and am resolved, if I cannot otherwise hear of + her, to advertise her in the gazette, as an eloped wife, both by her + maiden and acknowledged name; for her elopement will soon be known by + every enemy: why then should not my friends be made acquainted with it, + from whose inquiries and informations I may expect some tidings of her? + </p> + <p> + 'She had on a brown lustring night-gown, fresh, and looking like new, as + every thing she wears does, whether new or not, from an elegance natural + to her. A beaver hat, a black ribbon about her neck, and blue knots on her + breast. A quilted petticoat of carnation-coloured satin; a rose diamond + ring, supposed on her finger; and in her whole person and appearance, as I + shall express it, a dignity, as well as beauty, that commands the repeated + attention of every one who sees her.' + </p> + <p> + The description of her person I shall take a little more pains about. My + mind must be more at ease, before I undertake that. And I shall threaten, + 'that if, after a certain period given for her voluntary return, she be + not heard of, I will prosecute any person who presumes to entertain, + harbour, abet, or encourage her, with all the vengeance that an injured + gentleman and husband may be warranted to take by law, or otherwise.' + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Fresh cause of aggravation!—But for this scribbling vein, or I + should still run mad. + </p> + <p> + Again going into her chamber, because it was her's, and sighing over the + bed, and every piece of furniture in it, I cast my eye towards the drawers + of the dressing-glass, and saw peep out, as it were, in one of the + half-drawn drawers, the corner of a letter. I snatched it out, and found + it superscribed, by her, To Mr. Lovelace. The sight of it made my heart + leap, and I trembled so, that I could hardly open the seal. + </p> + <p> + How does this damn'd love unman me!—but nobody ever loved as I love!—It + is even increased by her unworthy flight, and my disappointment. + Ungrateful creature, to fly from a passion thus ardently flaming! which, + like the palm, rises the more for being depressed and slighted. + </p> + <p> + I will not give thee a copy of this letter. I owe her not so much service. + </p> + <p> + But wouldst thou think, that this haughty promise-breaker could resolve as + she does, absolutely and for ever to renounce me for what passed last + night? That she could resolve to forego all her opening prospects of + reconciliation; the reconciliation with a worthless family, on which she + has set her whole heart?—Yet she does—she acquits me of all + obligation to her, and herself of all expectations from me—And for + what?—O that indeed I had given her real cause! Damn'd confounded + niceness, prudery, affectation, or pretty ignorance, if not affectation!—By + my soul, Belford, I told thee all—I was more indebted to her + struggles, than to my own forwardness. I cannot support my own reflections + upon a decency so ill-requited.—She could not, she would not have + been so much a Harlowe in her resentment. All she feared had then been + over; and her own good sense, and even modesty, would have taught her to + make the best of it. + </p> + <p> + But if ever again I get her into my hands, art, and more art, and + compulsion too, if she make it necessary, [and 'tis plain that nothing + else will do,] shall she experience from the man whose fear of her has + been above even his passion for her; and whose gentleness and forbearance + she has thus perfidiously triumphed over. Well, says the Poet, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Tis nobler like a lion to invade + When appetite directs, and seize my prey, + Than to wait tamely, like a begging dog, + Till dull consent throws out the scraps of love. +</pre> + <p> + Thou knowest what I have so lately vowed—and yet, at times [cruel + creature, and ungrateful as cruel!] I can subscribe with too much truth to + those lines of another Poet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She reigns more fully in my soul than ever; + She garrisons my breast, and mans against me + Ev'n my own rebel thoughts, with thousand graces, + Ten thousand charms, and new-discovered beauties! +</pre> + <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> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + A letter is put into my hands by Wilson himself.—Such a letter! + </p> + <p> + A letter from Miss Howe to her cruel friend!— + </p> + <p> + I made no scruple to open it. + </p> + <p> + It is a miracle that I fell not into fits at the reading of it; and at the + thought of what might have been the consequence, had it come into the + hands of this Clarissa Harlowe. Let my justly-excited rage excuse my + irreverence. + </p> + <p> + Collins, though not his day, brought it this afternoon to Wilson's, with a + particular desire that it might be sent with all speed to Miss Beaumont's + lodgings, and given, if possible, into her own hands. He had before been + here (at Mrs. Sinclair's with intent to deliver it to the lady with his + own hand; but was told [too truly told!] that she was abroad; but that + they would give her any thing he should leave for her the moment she + returned.) But he cared not to trust them with his business, and went away + to Wilson's, (as I find by the description of him at both places,) and + there left the letter; but not till he had a second time called here, and + found her not come in. + </p> + <p> + The letter [which I shall enclose; for it is too long to transcribe] will + account to thee for Collins's coming hither. + </p> + <p> + O this devilish Miss Howe;—something must be resolved upon and done + with that little fury! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Thou wilt see the margin of this cursed letter crowded with indices [>>>]. + I put them to mark the places which call for vengeance upon the vixen + writer, or which require animadversion. Return thou it to me the moment + thou hast perused it. + </p> + <p> + Read it here; and avoid trembling for me, if thou canst. + </p> + <p> + TO MISS LAETITIA BEAUMONT WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST FRIEND, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You will perhaps think that I have been too + long silent. But I had begun two letters at differ- + ent times since my last, and written a great deal + >>> each time; and with spirit enough, I assure you; + incensed as I was against the abominable wretch you + are with; particularly on reading your's of the 21st + of the past month.* + </pre> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter XLVI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> The first I intended to keep open till I could + give you some account of my proceedings with Mrs. + Townsend. It was some days before I saw her: + and this intervenient space giving me time to re- + peruse what I had written, I thought it proper to lay + >>> that aside, and to write in a style a little less fervent; + >>> for you would have blamed me, I know, for the free- + dom of some of my expressions. [Execrations, if + you please.] And when I had gone a good way + in the second, the change in your prospects, on his + communicating to you Miss Montague's letter, and + his better behaviour, occasioning a change in your + mind, I laid that aside also. And in this uncer- + tainty, thought I would wait to see the issue of + affairs between you before I wrote again; believing + that all would soon be decided one way or other. + + I had still, perhaps, held this resolution, [as every + appearance, according to your letters, was more and + more promising,] had not the two passed days fur- + nished me with intelligence which it highly imports + you to know. + + But I must stop here, and take a little walk, to + try to keep down that just indignation which rises + to my pen, when I am about to relate to you what + I must communicate. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *** + + I am not my own mistress enough—then my + mother—always up and down—and watching as if + I were writing to a fellow. But I will try if I can + contain myself in tolerable bounds. + + The women of the house where you are—O my + dear, the women of the house—but you never + thought highly of them—so it cannot be very sur- + >>> prising—nor would you have staid so long with + them, had not the notion of removing to one of your + own, made you less uneasy, and less curious about + their characters, and behaviour. Yet I could now + wish, that you had been less reserved among them + >>> —But I tease you—In short, my dear, you are + certainly in a devilish house!—Be assured that the + woman is one of the vilest women—nor does + she go to you by her right name—[Very true!]— + Her name is not Sinclair, nor is the street she lives + in Dover-street. Did you never go out by your- + self, and discharge the coach or chair, and return + >>> by another coach or chair? If you did, [yet I + don't remember that you ever wrote to me, that + you did,] you would never have found your way to + the vile house, either by the woman's name, Sin- + clair, or by the street's name, mentioned by that + Doleman in his letter about the lodgings.* + </pre> + <p> + * Vol. III. Letters XXXVIII. and XXXIX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The wretch might indeed have held out these + false lights a little more excusably, had the house + been an honest house; and had his end only been + to prevent mischief from your brother. But this + contrivance was antecedent, as I think, to your + brother's project; so that no excuse can be made + >>> for his intentions at the time—the man, whatever he + may now intend, was certainly then, even then, a + villain in his heart. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *** + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> I am excessively concerned that I should be pre- + vailed upon, between your over-niceness, on one + hand, and my mother's positiveness, on the other, to + be satisfied without knowing how to direct to you + at your lodgings. I think too, that the proposal + that I should be put off to a third-hand knowledge, + or rather veiled in a first-hand ignorance, came from + him, and that it was only acquiesced in by you, as + it was by me,* upon needless and weak considera- + tions; because, truly, I might have it to say, if + challenged, that I knew not where to send to you! + I am ashamed of myself!—Had this been at first + excusable, it could not be a good reason for going + on in the folly, when you had no liking to the + >>> house, and when he began to play tricks, and delay + with you.—What! I was to mistrust myself, was + I? I was to allow it to be thought, that I could + >>> not keep my own secret?—But the house to be + >>> taken at this time, and at that time, led us both on + >>> —like fools, like tame fools, in a string. Upon my + life, my dear, this man is a vile, a contemptible + villain—I must speak out!—How has he laughed + in his sleeve at us both, I warrant, for I can't tell + how long! + </pre> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter LVI. par. 12. and Letter LVIII. par. 12.—Where + the reader will observe, that the proposal came from herself; which, as it + was also mentioned by Mr. Lovelace, (towards the end of Letter I. in Vol. + IV.) she may be presumed to have forgotten. So that Clarissa had a double + inducement for acquiescing with the proposed method of carrying on the + correspondence between Miss Howe and herself by Wilson's conveyance, and + by the name of Laetitia Beaumont. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And yet who could have thought that a man of + >>> fortune, and some reputation, [this Doleman, I + mean—not your wretch, to be sure!] formerly a + rake, indeed, [I inquired after him long ago; and + so was the easier satisfied;] but married to a + woman of family—having had a palsy-blow—and, + >>> one would think, a penitent, should recommend + such a house [why, my dear, he could not inquire + of it, but must find it to be bad] to such a man as + Lovelace, to bring his future, nay, his then supposed, + bride to? + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *** + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> I write, perhaps, with too much violence, to be + clear, but I cannot help it. Yet I lay down my + pen, and take it up every ten minutes, in order to + write with some temper—my mother too, in and + out—What need I, (she asks me,) lock myself in, + if I am only reading past correspondencies? For + >>> that is my pretence, when she comes poking in with + her face sharpened to an edge, as I may say, by a + curiosity that gives her more pain than pleasure.— + >>> The Lord forgive me; but I believe I shall huff + her next time she comes in. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *** + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do you forgive me too, my dear—my mother + ought; because she says, I am my father's girl; and + because I am sure I am her's. I don't kow what + to do—I don't know what to write next—I have + so much to write, yet have so little patience, and so + little opportunity. + + But I will tell you how I came by my intelli- + >>> gence. That being a fact, and requiring the less + attention, I will try to account to you for that. + + Thus, then, it came about: 'Miss Lardner + (whom you have seen at her cousin Biddulph's) + saw you at St. James's Church on Sunday was fort- + night. She kept you in her eye during the whole + time; but could not once obtain the notice of your's, + though she courtesied to you twice. She thought to + pay her compliments to you when the service was + over, for she doubted not but you were married— + >>> and for an odd reason—because you came to church + by yourself. Every eye, (as usual, wherever you + are, she said,) was upon you; and this seeming to + give you hurry, and you being nearer the door than + she, you slid out, before she could get to you.—But + she ordered her servant to follow you till you were + housed. This servant saw you step into a chair, + which waited for you; and you ordered the men to + carry you to the place where they took you up. + + 'The next day, Miss Lardner sent the same + servant, out of mere curiosity, to make private in- + quiry whether Mr. Lovelace were, or were not, + with you there.—And this inquiry brought out, + >>> from different people, that the house was suspected + to be one of those genteel wicked houses, which + receive and accommodate fashionable people of both + sexes. + + 'Miss Lardner, confounded at this strange intel- + ligence, made further inquiry; enjoining secrecy + to the servant she had sent, as well as to the gentle- + >>> man whom she employed; who had it confirmed + from a rakish friend, who knew the house; and + told him, that there were two houses: the one in + which all decent appearances were preserved, and guests + rarely admitted; the other, the receptacle of those + who were absolutely engaged, and broken to the + vile yoke.' + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Say—my dear creature—say—Shall I not exe- + crate the wretch?—But words are weak—What + can I say, that will suitably express my abhorrence + of such a villain as he must have been, when he + meditated to carry a Clarissa to such a place! + + 'Miss Lardner kept this to herself some days, + not knowing what to do; for she loves you, and + admires you of all women. At last she revealed it, + but in confidence, to Miss Biddulph, by letter. + Miss Biddulph, in like confidence, being afraid it + would distract me, were I to know it, communi- + cated it to Miss Lloyd; and so, like a whispered + scandal, it passed through several canals, and then + it came to me; which was not till last Monday.' + + I thought I should have fainted upon the surpris- + ing communication. But rage taking place, it blew + away the sudden illness. I besought Miss Lloyd + to re-enjoin secrecy to every one. I told her that + >>> I would not for the world that my mother, or any + of your family, should know it. And I instantly + caused a trusty friend to make what inquiries he + could about Tomlinson. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> I had thoughts to have done it before I had this + intelligence: but not imagining it to be needful, and + little thinking that you could be in such a house, and + as you were pleased with your changed prospects, I + >>> forbore. And the rather forbore, as the matter is + so laid, that Mrs. Hodges is supposed to know + nothing of the projected treaty of accommodation; + but, on the contrary, that it was designed to be a + secret to her, and to every body but immediate + parties; and it was Mrs. Hodges that I had pro- + posed to sound by a second hand. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Now, my dear, it is certain, without applying to + that too-much-favoured housekeeper, that there is + not such a man within ten miles of your uncle.— + Very true!—One Tomkins there is, about four miles + off; but he is a day-labourer: and one Thompson, + about five miles distant the other way; but he is a + parish schoolmaster, poor, and about seventy. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> A man, thought but of £.800 a year, cannot come + from one country to settle in another, but every + body in both must know it, and talk of it. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Mrs. Hodges may yet be sounded at a distance, + if you will. Your uncle is an old man. Old men + imagine themselves under obligation to their para- + >>> mours, if younger than themselves, and seldom + keep any thing from their knowledge. But if we + suppose him to make secret of this designed treaty, + it is impossible, before that treaty was thought of, + but she must have seen him, at least have heard + your uncle speak praisefully of a man he is said to + be so intimate with, let him have been ever so little + a while in those parts. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Yet, methinks, the story is so plausible—Tom- + linson, as you describe him, is so good a man, and + so much of a gentleman; the end to be answered + >>> by his being an impostor, so much more than neces- + sary if Lovelace has villany in his head; and as + >>> you are in such a house—your wretch's behaviour + to him was so petulant and lordly; and Tomlin- + son's answer so full of spirit and circumstance; + >>> and then what he communicated to you of Mr. + Hickman's application to your uncle, and of Mrs. + Norton's to your mother, [some of which particu- + >>> lars, I am satisfied, his vile agent, Joseph Leman, + could not reveal to his vile employer;] his press- + ing on the marriage-day, in the name of your + uncle, which it could not answer any wicked pur- + >>> pose for him to do; and what he writes of your + uncle's proposal, to have it thought that you were + married from the time that you have lived in one + house together; and that to be made to agree with + the time of Mr. Hickman's visit to your uncle. + >>> The insisting on a trusty person's being present at + the ceremony, at that uncle's nomination—These + things make me willing to try for a tolerable construc- + tion to be made of all. Though I am so much + puzzled by what occurs on both sides of the ques- + >>> tion, that I cannot but abhor the devilish wretch, + whose inventions and contrivances are for ever em- + ploying an inquisitive head, as mine is, without + affording the means of absolute detection. + + But this is what I am ready to conjecture, that + Tomlinson, specious as he is, is a machine of Love- + >>> lace; and that he is employed for some end, which + has not yet been answered. This is certain, that + not only Tomlinson, but Mennell, who, I think, + attended you more than once at this vile house, + must know it to be a vile house. + + What can you then think of Tomlinson's declar- + ing himself in favour of it upon inquiry? + + Lovelace too must know it to be so; if not + before he brought you to it, soon after. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Perhaps the company he found there, may be the + most probable way of accounting for his bearing + with the house, and for his strange suspensions of + marriage, when it was in his power to call such an + angel of a woman his.— + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> O my dear, the man is a villain!—the greatest + of villains, in every light!—I am convinced that he + is.—And this Doleman must be another of his + implements! + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> There are so many wretches who think that to + be no sin, which is one of the greatest and most + ungrateful of all sins,—to ruin young creatures of + our sex who place their confidence in them; that + the wonder is less than the shame, that people, of + appearance at least, are found to promote the horrid + purposes of profligates of fortune and interest! + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> But can I think [you will ask with indignant + astonishment] that Lovelace can have designs upon + your honour? + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> That such designs he has had, if he still hold + them or not, I can have no doubt, now that I know + the house he has brought you to, to be a vile one. + This is a clue that has led me to account for all his + behaviour to you ever since you have been in his + hands. + + Allow me a brief retrospection of it all. + + We both know, that pride, revenge, and a delight + to tread in unbeaten paths, are principal ingredients + in the character of this finished libertine. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> He hates all your family—yourself excepted: + and I have several times thought, that I have seen + >>> him stung and mortified that love has obliged him + to kneel at your footstool, because you are a Har- + lowe. Yet is this wretch a savage in love.—Love + >>> that humanizes the fiercest spirits, has not been able + to subdue his. His pride, and the credit which a + >>> few plausible qualities, sprinkled among his odious + ones, have given him, have secured him too good + a reception from our eye-judging, our undistinguish- + ing, our self-flattering, our too-confiding sex, to + make assiduity and obsequiousness, and a conquest + of his unruly passions, any part of his study. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> He has some reason for his animosity to all the + men, and to one woman of your family. He has + always shown you, and his own family too, that he + >>> prefers his pride to his interest. He is a declared + marriage-hater; a notorious intriguer; full of his + inventions, and glorying in them: he never could + draw you into declarations of love; nor till your + >>> wise relations persecuted you as they did, to receive + his addresses as a lover. He knew that you pro- + fessedly disliked him for his immoralities; he could + not, therefore, justly blame you for the coldness + and indifference of your behaviour to him. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> The prevention of mischief was your first main + view in the correspondence he drew you into. He + ought not, then, to have wondered that you declared + your preference of the single life to any matrimonial + engagement. He knew that this was always your + >>> preference; and that before he tricked you away + so artfully. What was his conduct to you + afterwards, that you should of a sudden change + it? + + Thus was your whole behaviour regular, con- + sistent, and dutiful to those to whom by birth you + owed duty; and neither prudish, coquettish, nor + tyrannical to him. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> He had agreed to go on with you upon those + your own terms, and to rely only on his own merits + and future reformation for your favour. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> It was plain to me, indeed, to whom you com- + municated all that you knew of your own heart, + though not all of it that I found out, that love had + pretty early gained footing in it. And this you + yourself would have discovered sooner than you + >>> did, had not his alarming, his unpolite, his rough + conduct, kept it under. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> I knew by experience that love is a fire that is + not to be played with without burning one's fingers: + I knew it to be a dangerous thing for two single + persons of different sexes to enter into familiarity + and correspondence with each other: Since, as to + the latter, must not a person be capable of premedi- + tated art, who can sit down to write, and not write + from the heart?—And a woman to write her heart + to a man practised in deceit, or even to a man of + some character, what advantage does it give him + over her? + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> As this man's vanity had made him imagine, that + no woman could be proof against love, when his + address was honourable; no wonder that he + struggled, like a lion held in toils, against a passion + that he thought not returned. And how could + you, at first, show a return in love, to so fierce + a spirit, and who had seduced you away by vile + artifices, but to the approval of those artifices. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Hence, perhaps, it is not difficult to believe, that + it became possible for such a wretch as this to give + way to his old prejudices against marriage; and to + that revenge which had always been a first passion + with him. + + This is the only way, I think, to account for his + horrid views in bringing you to a vile house. + + And now may not all the rest be naturally + accounted for?—His delays—his teasing ways— + his bringing you to bear with his lodging in the + same house—his making you pass to the people of + >>> it as his wife, though restrictively so, yet with hope, + no doubt, (vilest of villains as he is!) to take you + >>> at an advantage—his bringing you into the com- + pany of his libertine companions—the attempt of + imposing upon you that Miss Partington for a + bedfellow, very probably his own invention for + the worst of purposes—his terrifying you at many + different times—his obtruding himself upon you + when you went out to church; no doubt to prevent + your finding out what the people of the house were + —the advantages he made of your brother's foolish + project with Singleton. + + See, my dear, how naturally all this follows from + >>> the discovery made by Miss Lardner. See how + the monster, whom I thought, and so often called, + >>> a fool, comes out to have been all the time one of + the greatest villains in the world! + + But if this is so, what, [it would be asked by + an indifferent person,] has hitherto saved you? + Glorious creature!—What, morally speaking, but + your watchfulness! What but that, and the + majesty of your virtue; the native dignity, which, + in a situation so very difficult, (friendless, destitute, + passing for a wife, cast into the company of crea- + tures accustomed to betray and ruin innocent hearts,) + has hitherto enabled you to baffle, over-awe, and + confound, such a dangerous libertine as this; so + habitually remorseless, as you have observed him + to be; so very various in his temper, so inventive, + so seconded, so supported, so instigated, too pro- + bably, as he has been!—That native dignity, that + heroism, I will call it, which has, on all proper + occasions, exerted itself in its full lustre, unmingled + >>> with that charming obligingness and condescending + sweetness, which is evermore the softener of that + dignity, when your mind is free and unapprehen- + sive! + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> Let me stop to admire, and to bless my beloved + friend, who, unhappily for herself, at an age so + tender, unacquainted as she was with the world, and + with the vile arts of libertines, having been called + upon to sustain the hardest and most shocking trials, + from persecuting relations on one hand, and from + a villanous lover on the other, has been enabled to + give such an illustrious example of fortitude and + prudence as never woman gave before her; and + who, as I have heretofore observed,* has made a + far greater figure in adversity, than she possibly + could have made, had all her shining qualities been + exerted in their full force and power, by the con- + >>> tinuance of that prosperous run of fortune which + attended her for eighteen years of life out of + nineteen. + </pre> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letters XXIV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *** + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> But now, my dear, do I apprehend, that you + are in greater danger than ever yet you have been + in; if you are not married in a week; and yet stay + in this abominable house. For were you out of it, + I own I should not be much afraid for you. + + These are my thoughts, on the most deliberate + >>> consideration: 'That he is now convinced, that + he has not been able to draw you off your guard: + that therefore, if he can obtain no new advantage + over you as he goes along, he is resolved to do you + all the poor justice that it is in the power of such a + wretch as he to do you. He is the rather induced to + this, as he sees that all his own family have warmly + engaged themselves in your cause: and that it is + >>> his highest interest to be just to you. Then the + horrid wretch loves you (as well he may) above all + women. I have no doubt of this: with such a love + >>> as such a wretch is capable of: with such a love as + Herod loved his Marianne. He is now therefore, + very probably, at last, in earnest.' + + I took time for inquiries of different natures, as + I knew, by the train you are in, that whatever his + designs are, they cannot ripen either for good or + >>> evil till something shall result from this device + of his about Tomlinson and your uncle. + + Device I have no doubt that it is, whatever this + dark, this impenetrable spirit intends by it. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> And yet I find it to be true, that Counsellor + Williams (whom Mr. Hickman knows to be a man + of eminence in his profession) has actually as good + >>> as finished the settlements: that two draughts of + them have been made; one avowedly to be sent to + one Captain Tomlinson, as the clerk says:—and I + find that a license has actually been more than once + endeavoured to be obtained; and that difficulties + have hitherto been made, equally to Lovelace's + >>> vexation and disappointment. My mother's proctor, + who is very intimate with the proctor applied to + by the wretch, has come at this information in + confidence; and hints, that, as Mr. Lovelace is a + man of high fortunes, these difficulties will probably + be got over. + + But here follow the causes of my apprehension of + your danger; which I should not have had a thought + >>> of (since nothing very vile has yet been attempted) + but on finding what a house you are in, and, on that + discovery, laying together and ruminating on past + occurrences. + + 'You are obliged, from the present favourable + >>> appearances, to give him your company whenever + he requests it.—You are under a necessity of for- + getting, or seeming to forget, past disobligations; + and to receive his addresses as those of a betrothed + lover.—You will incur the censure of prudery and + affectation, even perhaps in your own apprehension, + if you keep him at that distance which has hitherto + >>> been your security.—His sudden (and as suddenly + recovered) illness has given him an opportunity to + find out that you love him. [Alas! my dear, I + knew you loved him!] He is, as you relate, every + >>> hour more and more an encroacher upon it. He + has seemed to change his nature, and is all love and + >>> gentleness. The wolf has put on the sheep's cloth- + ing; yet more than once has shown his teeth, and + his hardly-sheathed claws. The instance you have + given of his freedom with your person,* which you + could not but resent; and yet, as matters are + circumstanced between you, could not but pass + over, when Tomlinson's letter called you into his + >>> company,** show the advantage he has now over + you; and also, that if he can obtain greater, he + will.—And for this very reason (as I apprehend) it + >>> is, that Tomlinson is introduced; that is to say, to + give you the greater security, and to be a mediator, + if mortal offence be given you by any villanous + attempt.—The day seems not now to be so much + in your power as it ought to be, since that now + partly depends on your uncle, whose presence, at + your own motion, he has wished on the occasion. + A wish, were all real, very unlikely, I think, to be + granted.' + </pre> + <p> + * She means the freedom Mr. Lovelace took with her before the fire-plot. + See Vol. V. Letter XI. When Miss Howe wrote this letter she could not know + of that. ** See Vol. V. Letter XII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> And thus situated, should he offer greater free- + doms, must you not forgive him? + + I fear nothing (as I know who has said) that + devil carnate or incarnate can fairly do against a + >>> virtue so established.*—But surprizes, my dear, in + such a house as you are in, and in such circum- + stances as I have mentioned, I greatly fear! the + >>> man one who has already triumphed over persons + worthy of his alliance. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> What then have you to do, but to fly this house, + this infernal house!—O that your heart would let + you fly the man! + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> If you should be disposed so to do, Mrs. Towns- + end shall be ready at your command.—But if you + meet with no impediments, no new causes of doubt, + I think your reputation in the eye of the world, + >>> though not your happiness, is concerned, that you + should be his—and yet I cannot bear that these + libertines should be rewarded for their villany with + the best of the sex, when the worst of it are too + good for them. + + But if you meet with the least ground for + suspicion; if he would detain you at the odious + house, or wish you to stay, now you know what + >>> the people are; fly him, whatever your prospects + are, as well as them. + + In one of your next airings, if you have no other + >>> way, refuse to return with him. Name me for your + intelligencer, that you are in a bad house, and if you + think you cannot now break with him, seem rather + >>> to believe that he may not know it to be so; and + that I do not believe he does: and yet this belief + in us both must appear to be very gross. + + But suppose you desire to go out of town for the + air, this sultry weather, and insist upon it? You + may plead your health for so doing. He dare not + >>> resist such a plea. Your brother's foolish scheme, + I am told, is certainly given up; so you need not + be afraid on that account. + + If you do not fly the house upon reading of this, + or some way or other get out of it, I shall judge of + his power over you, by the little you will have over + either him or yourself. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> One of my informers has made such slight inquiries + concerning Mrs. Fretchville. Did he ever name + to you the street or square she lived in?—I don't + >>> remember that you, in any of your's, mentioned the + place of her abode to me. Strange, very strange, + this, I think! No such person or house can be + found, near any of the new streets or squares, where + the lights I had from your letters led me to imagine + >>> her house might be.—Ask him what street the + house is in, if he has not told you; and let me + >>> know. If he make a difficulty of that circumstance, + it will amount to a detection.—And yet, I think, + you will have enough without this. + + I shall send this long letter by Collins, who + changes his day to oblige me; and that he may try + (now I know where you are) to get it into your + own hands. If he cannot, he will leave it at + Wilson's. As none of our letters by that convey- + ance have miscarried when you have been in more + apparently disagreeable situations than you are in at + present. I hope that this will go safe, if Collins + should be obliged to leave it there. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> I wrote a short letter to you in my first agitations. + It contained not above twenty lines, all full of fright, + alarm, and execration. But being afraid that my + vehemence would too much affect you, I thought it + better to wait a little, as well for the reasons already + hinted at, as to be able to give you as many par- + ticulars as I could, and my thoughts upon all. And + as they have offered, or may offer, you will be + sufficiently armed to resist all his machinations, be + what they will. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + >>> One word more. Command me up, if I can be + of the least service or pleasure to you. I value + not fame; I value not censure; nor even life itself, + I verily think, as I do your honour, and your friend- + ship—For, is not your honour my honour? And + is not your friendship the pride of my life? + + May Heaven preserve you, my dearest creature, + in honour and safety, is the prayer, the hourly + prayer, of + </pre> + <p> + Your ever-faithful and affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THURSDAY MORN. 5. I have + written all night +</pre> + <p> + *** TO MISS HOWE MY DEAREST CREATURE, + </p> + <p> + How you have shocked, confounded, surprised, astonished me, by your + dreadful communication!—My heart is too weak to bear up against such + a stroke as this!—When all hope was with me! When my prospects were + so much mended!—But can there be such villany in men, as in this + vile principal, and equally vile agent! + </p> + <p> + I am really ill—very ill—grief and surprise, and, now I will + say, despair, have overcome me!—All, all, you have laid down as + conjecture, appears to me now to be more than conjecture! + </p> + <p> + O that your mother would have the goodness to permit me the presence of + the only comforter that my afflicted, my half-broken heart, could be + raised by. But I charge you, think not of coming up without her indulgent + permission. I am too ill at present, my dear, to think of combating with + this dreadful man; and of flying from this horrid house!— My bad + writing will show you this.—But my illness will be my present + security, should he indeed have meditated villany.—Forgive, O + forgive me, my dearest friend, the trouble I have given you!—All + must soon—But why add I grief to grief, and trouble to trouble?—But + I charge you, my beloved creature, not to think of coming up without your + mother's love, to the truly desolate and broken-spirited + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. *** + </p> + <p> + Well, Jack!—And what thinkest thou of this last letter? Miss Howe + values not either fame or censure; and thinkest thou, that this letter + will not bring the little fury up, though she could procure no other + conveyance than her higgler's panniers, one for herself, the other for her + maid? She knows whither to come now. Many a little villain have I punished + for knowing more than I would have her know, and that by adding to her + knowledge and experience. What thinkest thou, Belford, if, by getting + hither this virago, and giving cause for a lamentable letter from her to + the fair fugitive, I should be able to recover her? Would she not visit + that friend in her distress, thinkest thou, whose intended visit to her in + her's brought her into the condition from which she herself had so + perfidiously escaped? + </p> + <p> + Let me enjoy the thought! + </p> + <p> + Shall I send this letter?—Thou seest I have left room, if I fail in + the exact imitation of so charming a hand, to avoid too strict a scrutiny. + Do they not both deserve it of me? Seest thou now how the raving girl + threatens her mother? Ought she not to be punished? And can I be a worse + devil, or villain, or monster, that she calls me in the long letter I + enclose (and has called me in her former letters) were I to punish them + both as my vengeance urges me to punish them? And when I have executed + that my vengeance, how charmingly satisfied may they both go down into the + country and keep house together, and have a much better reason than their + pride could give them, for living the single life they have both seemed so + fond of! + </p> + <p> + I will set about transcribing it this moment, I think. I can resolve + afterwards. Yet what has poor Hickman done to deserve this of me!—But + gloriously would it punish the mother (as well as daughter) for all her + sordid avarice; and for her undutifulness to honest Mr. Howe, whose heart + she actually broke. I am on tiptoe, Jack, to enter upon this project. Is + not one country as good to me as another, if I should be obliged to take + another tour upon it? + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + But I will not venture. Hickman is a good man, they tell me. I love a good + man. I hope one of these days to be a good man myself. Besides, I have + heard within this week something of this honest fellow that shows he has a + soul; when I thought, if he had one, that it lay a little of the deepest + to emerge to notice, except on very extraordinary occasions; and that then + it presently sunk again into its cellula adiposa.—The man is a plump + man.—Didst ever see him, Jack? + </p> + <p> + But the principal reason that withholds me [for 'tis a tempting project!] + is, for fear of being utterly blown up, if I should not be quick enough + with my letter, or if Miss Howe should deliberate on setting out, to try + her mother's consent first; in which time a letter from my frighted beauty + might reach her; for I have no doubt, wherever she has refuged, but her + first work was to write to her vixen friend. I will therefore go on + patiently; and take my revenge upon the little fury at my leisure. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of my compassion for Hickman, whose better character is + sometimes my envy, and who is one of those mortals that bring clumsiness + into credit with the mothers, to the disgrace of us clever fellows, and + often to our disappointment, with the daughters; and who has been very + busy in assisting these double-armed beauties against me; I swear by all + the dii majores, as well as minores, that I will have Miss Howe, if I + cannot have her more exalted friend! And then, if there be as much flaming + love between these girls as they pretend, will my charmer profit by her + escape? + </p> + <p> + And now, that I shall permit Miss Howe to reign a little longer, let me + ask thee, if thou hast not, in the enclosed letter, a fresh instance, that + a great many of my difficulties with her sister-toast are owing to this + flighty girl?—'Tis true that here was naturally a confounded sharp + winter air; and if a little cold water was thrown into the path, no wonder + that it was instantly frozen; and that the poor honest traveller found it + next to impossible to keep his way; one foot sliding back as fast as the + other advanced, to the endangering of his limbs or neck. But yet I think + it impossible that she should have baffled me as she has done (novice as + she is, and never before from under her parents' wings) had she not been + armed by a virago, who was formerly very near showing that she could + better advise than practise. But this, I believe, I have said more than + once before. + </p> + <p> + I am loth to reproach myself, now the cruel creature has escaped me; For + what would that do, but add to my torment? since evils self-caused, and + avoidable, admit not of palliation or comfort. And yet, if thou tellest + me, that all her strength was owing to my weakness, and that I have been a + cursed coward in this whole affair; why, then, Jack, I may blush, and be + vexed; but, by my soul, I cannot contradict thee. + </p> + <p> + But this, Belford, I hope—that if I can turn the poison of the + enclosed letter into wholesome ailment; that is to say, if I can make use + of it to my advantage; I shall have thy free consent to do it. + </p> + <p> + I am always careful to open covers cautiously, and to preserve seals + entire. I will draw out from this cursed letter an alphabet. Nor was Nick + Rowe ever half so diligent to learn Spanish, at the Quixote recommendation + of a certain peer, as I will be to gain the mastery of this vixen's hand. + </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> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8. + </p> + <p> + After my last, so full of other hopes, the contents of this will surprise + you. O my dearest friend, the man has at last proved himself to be a + villain! + </p> + <p> + It was with the utmost difficulty last night, that I preserved myself from + the vilest dishonour. He extorted from me a promise of forgiveness, and + that I would see him next day, as if nothing had happened: but if it were + possible to escape from a wretch, who, as I have too much reason to + believe, formed a plot to fire the house, to frighten me, almost naked, + into his arms, how could I see him next day? + </p> + <p> + I have escaped—Heaven be praised that I have!—And now have no + other concern, than that I fly from the only hope that could have made + such a husband tolerable to me; the reconciliation with my friends, so + agreeably undertaken by my uncle. + </p> + <p> + All my present hope is, to find some reputable family, or person of my own + sex, who is obliged to go beyond sea, or who lives abroad; I care not + whether; but if I might choose, in some one of our American colonies— + never to be heard of more by my relations, whom I have so grievously + offended. + </p> + <p> + Nor let your generous heart be moved at what I write. If I can escape the + dreadfullest part of my father's malediction, (for the temporary part is + already, in a manner, fulfilled, which makes me tremble in apprehension of + the other,) I shall think the wreck of my worldly fortunes a happy + composition. + </p> + <p> + Neither is there need of the renewal of your so-often-tendered goodness to + me: for I have with me rings and other valuables, that were sent me with + my clothes, which will turn into money to answer all I can want, till + Providence shall be pleased to put me into some want to help myself, if, + for my further punishment, my life is to be lengthened beyond my wishes. + </p> + <p> + Impute not this scheme, my beloved friend, either to dejection on one + hand, or to that romantic turn on the other, which we have supposed + generally to obtain with our sex, from fifteen to twenty-two: for, be + pleased to consider my unhappy situation, in the light in which it really + must appear to every considerate person who knows it. In the first place, + the man, who has endeavoured to make me, his property, will hunt me as a + stray: and he knows he may do so with impunity; for whom have I to protect + me from him? + </p> + <p> + Then as to my estate, the envied estate, which has been the original cause + of all my misfortunes, it shall never be mine upon litigated terms. What + is there in being enabled to boast, that I am worth more than I can use, + or wish to use? And if my power is circumscribed, I shall not have that to + answer for, which I should have, if I did not use it as I ought: which + very few do. I shall have no husband, of whose interest I ought to be so + regardful, as to prevent me doing more than justice to others, that I may + not do less for him. If therefore my father will be pleased (as I shall + presume, in proper time, to propose to him) to pay two annuities out of + it, one to my dear Mrs. Norton, which may make her easy for the remainder + of her life, as she is now growing into years; the other of 50£. per + annum, to the same good woman, for the use of my poor, as I had the vanity + to call a certain set of people, concerning whom she knows all my mind; + that so as few as possible may suffer by the consequences of my error; God + bless them, and give them heart's ease and content, with the rest! + </p> + <p> + Other reasons for my taking the step I have hinted at, are these. + </p> + <p> + This wicked man knows I have no friend in the world but you: your + neighbourhood therefore would be the first he would seek for me in, were + you to think it possible for me to be concealed in it: and in this case + you might be subjected to inconveniencies greater even than those which + you have already sustained on my account. + </p> + <p> + From my cousin Morden, were he to come, I could not hope protection; + since, by his letter to me, it is evident, that my brother has engaged him + in his party: nor would I, by any means, subject so worthy a man to + danger; as might be the case, from the violence of this ungovernable + spirit. + </p> + <p> + These things considered, what better method can I take, than to go abroad + to some one of the English colonies; where nobody but yourself shall know + any thing of me; nor you, let me tell you, presently, nor till I am fixed, + and (if it please God) in a course of living tolerably to my mind? For it + is no small part of my concern, that my indiscretions have laid so heavy a + tax upon you, my dear friend, to whom, once, I hoped to give more pleasure + than pain. + </p> + <p> + I am at present at one Mrs. Moore's at Hampstead. My heart misgave me at + coming to this village, because I had been here with him more than once: + but the coach hither was so ready a conveniency, that I knew not what to + do better. Then I shall stay here no longer than till I can receive your + answer to this: in which you will be pleased to let me know, if I cannot + be hid, according to your former contrivance, [happy, had I given into it + at the time!] by Mrs. Townsend's assistance, till the heat of his search + be over. The Deptford road, I imagine, will be the right direction to hear + of a passage, and to get safely aboard. + </p> + <p> + O why was the great fiend of all unchained, and permitted to assume so + specious a form, and yet allowed to conceal his feet and his talons, till + with the one he was ready to trample upon my honour, and to strike the + other into my heart!—And what had I done, that he should be let + loose particularly upon me! + </p> + <p> + Forgive me this murmuring question, the effect of my impatience, my guilty + impatience, I doubt: for, as I have escaped with my honour, and nothing + but my worldly prospects, and my pride, my ambition, and my vanity, have + suffered in this wretch of my hopefuller fortunes, may I not still be more + happy than I deserve to be? And is it not in my own power still, by the + Divine favour, to secure the greatest stake of all? And who knows but that + this very path into which my inconsideration has thrown me, strewed as it + is with briers and thorns, which tear in pieces my gaudier trappings, may + not be the right path to lead me into the great road to my future + happiness; which might have been endangered by evil communication? + </p> + <p> + And after all, are there not still more deserving persons than I, who + never failed in any capital point of duty, than have been more humbled + than myself; and some too, by the errors of parents and relations, by the + tricks and baseness of guardians and trustees, and in which their own + rashness or folly had no part? + </p> + <p> + I will then endeavour to make the best of my present lot. And join with + me, my best, my only friend, in praying, that my punishment may end here; + and that my present afflictions may be sanctified to me. + </p> + <p> + This letter will enable you to account for a line or two, which I sent to + Wilson's, to be carried to you, only for a feint, to get his servant out + of the way. He seemed to be left, as I thought, for a spy upon me. But he + returning too soon, I was forced to write a few lines for him to carry to + his master, to a tavern near Doctors Commons, with the same view: and this + happily answered my end. + </p> + <p> + I wrote early in the morning a bitter letter to the wretch, which I left + for him obvious enough; and I suppose he has it by this time. I kept no + copy of it. I shall recollect the contents, and give you the particulars + of all, at more leisure. + </p> + <p> + I am sure you will approve of my escape—the rather, as the people of + the house must be very vile: for they, and that Dorcas too, did hear me (I + know they did) cry out for help: if the fire had been other than a + villanous plot (although in the morning, to blind them, I pretended to + think it otherwise) they would have been alarmed as much as I; and have + run in, hearing me scream, to comfort me, supposing my terror was the + fire; to relieve me, supposing it was any thing else. But the vile Dorcas + went away as soon as she saw the wretch throw his arms about me!— + Bless me, my dear, I had only my slippers and an under-petticoat on. I was + frighted out of my bed, by her cries of fire; and that I should be burnt + to ashes in a moment—and she to go away, and never to return, nor + any body else! And yet I heard women's voices in the next room; indeed I + did—an evident contrivance of them all:—God be praised, I am + out of their house! + </p> + <p> + My terror is not yet over: I can hardly think myself safe: every well- + dressed man I see from my windows, whether on horseback or on foot, I + think to be him. + </p> + <p> + I know you will expedite an answer. A man and horse will be procured me + to-morrow early, to carry this. To be sure, you cannot return an answer by + the same man, because you must see Mrs. Townsend first: nevertheless, I + shall wait with impatience till you can; having no friend but you to apply + to; and being such a stranger to this part of the world, that I know not + which way to turn myself; whither to go; nor what to do—What a + dreadful hand have I made of it! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore, at whose house I am, is a widow, and of good character: and of + this one of her neighbours, of whom I bought a handkerchief, purposely to + make inquiry before I would venture, informed me. + </p> + <p> + I will not set my foot out of doors, till I have your direction: and I am + the more secure, having dropt words to the people of the house where the + coach set me down, as if I expected a chariot to meet me in my way to + Hendon; a village a little distance from this. And when I left their + house, I walked backward and forward upon the hill; at first, not knowing + what to do; and afterwards, to be certain that I was not watched before I + ventured to inquire after a lodging. + </p> + <p> + You will direct for me, my dear, by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas. + </p> + <p> + Had I not made my escape when I did, I was resolved to attempt it again + and again. He was gone to the Commons for a license, as he wrote me word; + for I refused to see him, notwithstanding the promise he extorted from me. + </p> + <p> + How hard, how next to impossible, my dear, to avoid many lesser + deviations, when we are betrayed into a capital one! + </p> + <p> + For fear I should not get away at my first effort, I had apprized him, + that I would not set eye upon him under a week, in order to gain myself + time for it in different ways. And were I so to have been watched as to + have made it necessary, I would, after such an instance of the connivance + of the women of the house, have run out into the street, and thrown myself + into the next house I could have entered, or claim protection from the + first person I had met—Women to desert the cause of a poor creature + of their own sex, in such a situation, what must they be!—Then, such + poor guilty sort of figures did they make in the morning after he was gone + out—so earnest to get me up stairs, and to convince me, by the + scorched window-boards, and burnt curtains and vallens, that the fire was + real—that (although I seemed to believe all they would have me + believe) I was more and more resolved to get out of their house at all + adventures. + </p> + <p> + When I began, I thought to write but a few lines. But, be my subject what + it will, I know not how to conclude when I write to you. It was always so: + it is not therefore owing peculiarly to that most interesting and unhappy + situation, which you will allow, however, to engross at present the whole + mind of + </p> + <p> + Your unhappy, but ever-affectionate CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXII + </p> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY MORNING, PAST TWO O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Io Triumphe!—Io Clarissa, sing!—Once more, what a happy man + thy friend!—A silly dear novice, to be heard to tell the coachman + where to carry her!—And to go to Hampstead, of all the villages + about London!— The place where we had been together more than once! + </p> + <p> + Methinks I am sorry she managed no better!—I shall find the recovery + of her too easy a task, I fear! Had she but known how much difficulty + enhances the value of any thing with me, and had she the least notion of + obliging me by it, she would never have stopt short at Hampstead, surely. + </p> + <p> + Well, but after al this exultation, thou wilt ask, If I have already got + back my charmer?—I have not;—But knowing where she is, is + almost the same thing as having her in my power. And it delights me to + think how she will start and tremble when I first pop upon her! How she + will look with conscious guilt, that will more than wipe off my guilt of + Wednesday night, when she sees her injured lover, and acknowledged + husband, from whom, the greatest of felonies, she would have stolen + herself. + </p> + <p> + But thou wilt be impatient to know how I came by my lights. Read the + enclosed letter, as I have told thee, I have given my fellow, in + apprehension of such an elopement; and that will tell thee all, and what I + may reasonably expect from the rascal's diligence and management, if he + wishes ever to see my face again. + </p> + <p> + I received it about half an hour ago, just as I was going to lie down in + my clothes, and it has made me so much alive, that, midnight as it is, I + have sent for a Blunt's chariot, to attend me here by day peep, with my + usual coachman, if possible; and knowing not what else to do with myself, + I sat down, and, in the joy of my heart, have not only written thus far, + but have concluded upon the measures I shall take when admitted to her + presence: for well am I aware of the difficulties I shall have to contend + with from her perverseness. + </p> + <p> + HONNERED SIR, + </p> + <p> + This is to sertifie your Honner, as how I am heer at Hamestet, where I + have found out my lady to be in logins at one Mrs. Moore's, near upon + Hamestet-Hethe. And I have so ordered matters, that her ladyship cannot + stur but I must have notice of her goins and comins. As I knowed I durst + not look into your Honner's fase, if I had not found out my lady, thoff + she was gone off the prems's in a quarter of an hour, as a man may say; so + I knowed you would be glad at hart to know I have found her out: and so I + send thiss Petur Patrick, who is to have 5 shillings, it being now near 12 + of the clock at nite; for he would not stur without a hearty drink too + besides: and I was willing all shulde be snug likeways at the logins + before I sent. + </p> + <p> + I have munny of youre Honner's; but I thought as how, if the man was payed + by me beforend, he mought play trix; so left that to your Honner. + </p> + <p> + My lady knows nothing of my being hereaway. But I thoute it best not to + leve the plase, because she has taken the logins but for a fue nites. + </p> + <p> + If your Honner come to the Upper Flax, I will be in site all the day about + the tapp-house or the Hethe. I have borrowed another cote, instead of your + Honner's liferie, and a blacke wigg; so cannot be knoen by my lady, iff as + howe she shuld see me: and have made as if I had the tooth- ake; so with + my hancriffe at my mothe, the teth which your Honner was pleased to bett + out with your Honner's fyste, and my dam'd wide mothe, as your Honner + notifys it to be, cannot be knoen to be mine. + </p> + <p> + The two inner letters I had from my lady, before she went off the prems's. + One was to be left at Mr. Wilson's for Miss Howe. The next was to be for + your Honner. But I knowed you was not at the plase directed; and being + afear'd of what fell out, so I kept them for your Honner, and so could not + give um to you, until I seed you. Miss How's I only made belief to her + ladyship as I carried it, and sed as how there was nothing left for hur, + as she wished to knoe: so here they be bothe. + </p> + <p> + I am, may it please your Honner, Your Honner's must dutiful, And, wonce + more, happy servant, WM. SUMMERS. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The two inner letters, as Will. calls them, 'tis plain, were written for + no other purpose, but to send him out of the way with them, and one of + them to amuse me. That directed to Miss Howe is only this:— + </p> + <p> + THURSDAY, JUNE 8. + </p> + <p> + I write this, my dear Miss Howe, only for a feint, and to see if it will + go current. I shall write at large very soon, if not miserably + prevented!!! + </p> + <p> + CL. H. *** + </p> + <p> + Now, Jack, will not her feints justify mine! Does she not invade my + province, thinkest thou? And is it not now fairly come to—Who shall + most deceive and cheat the other? So, I thank my stars, we are upon a par + at last, as to this point, which is a great ease to my conscience, thou + must believe. And if what Hudibras tells us is true, the dear fugitive has + also abundance of pleasure to come. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + In being cheated, as to cheat. + As lookers-on find most delight, + Who least perceive the juggler's sleight; + And still the less they understand, + The more admire the slight of hand. +</pre> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + This my dear juggler's letter to me; the other inner letter sent by Will. + </p> + <p> + THURSDAY, JUNE 8. MR. LOVELACE, + </p> + <p> + Do not give me cause to dread your return. If you would not that I should + hate you for ever, send me half a line by the bearer, to assure me that + you will not attempt to see me for a week to come. I cannot look you in + the face without equal confusion and indignation. The obliging me in this, + is but a poor atonement for your last night's vile behaviour. + </p> + <p> + You may pass this time in a journey to Lord M.'s; and I cannot doubt, if + the ladies of your family are as favourable to me, as you have assured me + they are, but that you will have interest enough to prevail with one of + them to oblige me with their company. After your baseness of last night, + you will not wonder, that I insist upon this proof of your future honour. + </p> + <p> + If Captain Tomlinson comes mean time, I can hear what he has to say, and + send you an account of it. + </p> + <p> + But in less than a week if you see me, it must be owing to a fresh act of + violence, of which you know not the consequence. + </p> + <p> + Send me the requested line, if ever you expect to have the forgiveness + confirmed, the promise of which you extorted from + </p> + <p> + The unhappy CL. H. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, what canst thou say in behalf of this sweet rogue of a lady? + What canst thou say for her? 'Tis apparent, that she was fully determined + upon an elopement when she wrote it. And thus would she make me of party + against myself, by drawing me in to give her a week's time to complete it. + And, more wicked still, send me upon a fool's errand to bring up one of my + cousins.—When we came to have the satisfaction of finding her gone + off, and me exposed for ever!—What punishment can be bad enough for + such a little villain of a lady? + </p> + <p> + But mind, moreover, how plausibly she accounts by this billet, (supposing + she should not find an opportunity of eloping before I returned,) for the + resolution of not seeing me for a week; and for the bread and butter + expedient!—So childish as we thought it! + </p> + <p> + The chariot is not come; and if it were, it is yet too soon for every + thing but my impatience. And as I have already taken all my measures, and + can think of nothing but my triumph, I will resume her violent letter, in + order to strengthen my resolutions against her. I was before in too gloomy + a way to proceed with it. But now the subject is all alive to me, and my + gayer fancy, like the sunbeams, will irradiate it, and turn the solemn + deep-green into a brighter verdure. + </p> + <p> + When I have called upon my charmer to explain some parts of her letter, + and to atone for others, I will send it, or a copy of it, to thee. + </p> + <p> + Suffice it at present to tell thee, in the first place, that she is + determined never to be my wife.—To be sure there ought to be no + compulsion in so material a case. Compulsion was her parents' fault, which + I have censured so severely, that I shall hardly be guilty of the same. I + am therefore glad I know her mind as to this essential point. + </p> + <p> + I have ruined her! she says.—Now that's a fib, take it her own way—if + I had, she would not, perhaps, have run away from me. + </p> + <p> + She is thrown upon the wide world! Now I own that Hampstead-heath affords + very pretty and very extensive prospects; but 'tis not the wide world + neither. And suppose that to be her grievance, I hope soon to restore her + to a narrower. + </p> + <p> + I am the enemy of her soul, as well as of her honour!—Confoundedly + severe! Nevertheless, another fib!—For I love her soul very well; + but think no more of it in this case than of my own. + </p> + <p> + She is to be thrown upon strangers!—And is not that her own fault?—Much + against my will, I am sure! + </p> + <p> + She is cast from a state of independency into one of obligation. She never + was in a state of independency; nor is it fit a woman should, of any age, + or in any state of life. And as to the state of obligation, there is no + such thing as living without being beholden to somebody. Mutual obligation + is the very essence and soul of the social and commercial life:—Why + should she be exempt from it? I am sure the person she raves at desires + not such an exemption; has been long dependent upon her; and would rejoice + to owe further obligations to her than he can boast of hitherto. + </p> + <p> + She talks of her father's curse!—But have I not repaid him for it an + hundred fold in the same coin? But why must the faults of other people be + laid at my door? Have I not enow of my own? + </p> + <p> + But the grey-eyed dawn begins to peep—let me sum up all. + </p> + <p> + In short, then, the dear creature's letter is a collection of invectives + not very new to me: though the occasion for them, no doubt is new to her. + A little sprinkling of the romantic and contradictory runs through it. She + loves, and she hates; she encourages me to pursue her, by telling me I + safely may; and yet she begs I will not. She apprehends poverty and want, + yet resolves to give away her estate; To gratify whom?—Why, in + short, those who have been the cause of her misfortunes. And finally, + though she resolves never to be mine, yet she has some regrets at leaving + me, because of the opening prospects of a reconciliation with her friends. + </p> + <p> + But never did morning dawn so tardily as this!—Neither is the + chariot yet come. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + A gentleman to speak with me, Dorcas?—Who can want me thus early? + </p> + <p> + Captain Tomlinson, sayest thou? Surely he must have traveled all night! + Early riser as I am, how could he think to find me up thus early? + </p> + <p> + Let but the chariot come, and he shall accompany me in it to the bottom of + the hill, (though he return to town on foot; for the Captain is all + obliging goodness,) that I may hear all he has to say, and tell him all my + mind, and lose no time. + </p> + <p> + Well, now I am satisfied that this rebellious flight will turn to my + advantage, as all crushed rebellions do to the advantage of a sovereign in + possession. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Dear Captain, I rejoice to see you—just in the nick of time—See! + See! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rosy-finger'd morn appears, + And from her mantle shakes her tears: + The sun arising mortals cheers, + And drives the rising mists away, + In promise of a glorious day. +</pre> + <p> + Excuse me, Sir, that I salute you from my favourite bard. He that rises + with the lark will sing with the lark. Strange news since I saw you, + Captain!—Poor mistaken lady!—But you have too much goodness, I + know, to reveal to her uncle Harlowe the error of this capricious beauty. + It will all turn out for the best. You must accompany me part of the way. + I know the delight you take in composing differences. But 'tis the task of + the prudent to heal the breaches made by the rashness and folly of the + imprudent. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And now, (all around me so still and so silent,) the rattling of the + chariot-wheels at a street's distance do I hear! And to this angel of a + woman I fly! + </p> + <p> + Reward, O God of Love! [The cause is thy own!] Reward thou, as it + deserves, my suffering perseverance!—Succeed my endeavours to bring + back to thy obedience this charming fugitive! Make her acknowledge her + rashness; repent her insults; implore my forgiveness; beg to be reinstated + in my favour, and that I will bury in oblivion the remembrance of her + heinous offence against thee, and against me, thy faithful votary. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The chariot at the door!—I come! I come! + </p> + <p> + I attend you, good Captain— + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Sir— + </p> + <p> + Pray, Sir—civility is not ceremony. + </p> + <p> + And now, dressed as a bridegroom, my heart elated beyond that of the most + desiring one, (attended by a footman whom my beloved never saw,) I am + already at Hampstead! + </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 XXIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. UPPER-FLASK, HAMPSTEAD. FRI. MORN. 7 + O'CLOCK. (JUNE 9.) + </p> + <p> + I am now here, and here have been this hour and half.—What an + industrious spirit have I!—Nobody can say that I eat the bread of + idleness. I take true pains for all the pleasure I enjoy. I cannot but + admire myself strangely; for certainly, with this active soul, I should + have made a very great figure in whatever station I had filled. But had I + been a prince, (to be sure I should have made a most noble prince!) I + should have led up a military dance equal to that of the great Macedonian. + I should have added kingdom to kingdom, and despoiled all my neighbour + sovereigns, in order to have obtained the name of Robert the Great! And I + would have gone to war with the Great Turk, and the Persian, and Mogul, + for the seraglios; for not one of those eastern monarchs should have had a + pretty woman to bless himself with till I had done with her. + </p> + <p> + And now I have so much leisure upon my hands, that, after having informed + myself of all necessary particulars, I am set to my short-hand writing in + order to keep up with time as well as I can; for the subject is now become + worthy of me; and it is yet too soon, I doubt, to pay my compliments to my + charmer, after all her fatigues for two or three days past. And, moreover, + I have abundance of matters preparative to my future proceedings to + recount, in order to connect and render all intelligible. + </p> + <p> + I parted with the Captain at the foot of the hill, trebly instructed; that + is to say, as to the fact, to the probable, and to the possible. If my + beloved and I can meet, and make up without the mediating of this worthy + gentleman, it will be so much the better. As little foreign aid as + possible in my amorous conflicts has always been a rule with me; though + here I have been obliged to call in so much. And who knows but it may be + the better for the lady the less she makes necessary? I cannot bear that + she should sit so indifferent to me as to be in earnest to part with me + for ever upon so slight, or even upon any occasion. If I find she is—but + no more threatenings till she is in my power—thou knowest what I + have vowed. + </p> + <p> + All Will.'s account, from the lady's flight to his finding her again, all + the accounts of the people of the house, the coachman's information to + Will., and so forth, collected together, stand thus: + </p> + <p> + 'The Hampstead coach, when the dear fugitive came to it, had but two + passengers in it. But she made the fellow to go off directly, paying for + the vacant places. + </p> + <p> + 'The two passengers directing the coachman to set them down at the Upper + Flask, she bid him set her down there also. + </p> + <p> + 'They took leave of her, [very respectfully, no doubt,] and she went into + the house, and asked, if she could not have a dish of tea, and a room to + herself for half an hour. + </p> + <p> + 'They showed her up to the very room where I now am. She sat at the very + table I now write upon; and, I believe, the chair I sit in was her's.' O + Belford, if thou knowest what love is, thou wilt be able to account for + these minutiae. + </p> + <p> + 'She seemed spiritless and fatigued. The gentlewoman herself chose to + attend so genteel and lovely a guest. She asked her if she would have + bread and butter with her tea? + </p> + <p> + 'No. She could not eat. + </p> + <p> + 'They had very good biscuits. + </p> + <p> + 'As she pleased. + </p> + <p> + 'The gentlewoman stept out for some, and returning on a sudden, she + observed the sweet little fugitive endeavouring to restrain a violent + burst of grief to which she had given way in the little interval. + </p> + <p> + 'However, when the tea came, she made the landlady sit down with her, and + asked her abundance of questions, about the villages and roads in the + neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + 'The gentlewoman took notice to her, that she seemed to be troubled in + mind. + </p> + <p> + 'Tender spirits, she replied, could not part with dear friends without + concern.' + </p> + <p> + She meant me, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + 'She made no inquiry about a lodging, though by the sequel, thou'lt + observe, that she seemed to intend to go no farther that night than + Hampstead. But after she had drank two dishes, and put a biscuit in her + pocket, [sweet soul! to serve for her supper, perhaps,] she laid down + half-a-crown; and refusing change, sighing, took leave, saying she would + proceed towards Hendon; the distance to which had been one of her questions. + </p> + <p> + 'They offered to send to know if a Hampstead coach were not to go to + Hendon that evening. + </p> + <p> + 'No matter, she said—perhaps she might meet the chariot.' + </p> + <p> + Another of her feints, I suppose: for how, or with whom, could any thing + of this sort have been concerted since yesterday morning? + </p> + <p> + 'She had, as the people took notice to one another, something so + uncommonly noble in her air, and in her person and behaviour, that they + were sure she was of quality. And having no servant with her of either + sex, her eyes, [her fine eyes, the gentlewoman called them, stranger as + she was, and a woman!] being swelled and red, they were sure there was an + elopement in the case, either from parents or guardians; for they supposed + her too young and too maidenly to be a married lady; and were she married, + no husband would let such a fine young creature to be unattended and + alone; nor give her cause for so much grief, as seemed to be settled in + her countenance. Then at times she seemed to be so bewildered, they said, + that they were afraid she had it in her head to make away with herself. + </p> + <p> + 'All these things put together, excited their curiosity; and they engaged + a peery servant, as they called a footman who was drinking with Kit. the + hostler, at the tap-house, to watch all her motions. This fellow reported + the following particulars, as they re-reported to me: + </p> + <p> + 'She indeed went towards Hendon, passing by the sign of the Castle on the + Heath; then, stopping, looked about her, and down into the valley before + her. Then, turning her face towards London, she seemed, by the motion of + her handkerchief to her eyes, to weep; repenting [who knows?] the rash + step she had taken, and wishing herself back again.' + </p> + <p> + Better for her, if she do, Jack, once more I say!—Woe be to the girl + who could think of marrying me, yet to be able to run away from me, and + renounce me for ever! + </p> + <p> + 'Then, continuing on a few paces, she stopt again—and, as if + disliking her road, again seeming to weep, directed her course back + towards Hampstead.' + </p> + <p> + I am glad she wept so much, because no heart bursts, (be the occasion for + the sorrow what it will,) which has that kindly relief. Hence I hardly + ever am moved at the sight of these pellucid fugitives in a fine woman. + How often, in the past twelve hours, have I wished that I could cry most + confoundedly? + </p> + <p> + 'She then saw a coach-and-four driving towards her empty. She crossed the + path she was in, as if to meet it, and seemed to intend to speak to the + coachman, had he stopt or spoken first. He as earnestly looked at her.—Every + one did so who passed her, (so the man who dogged her was the less + suspected.')—Happy rogue of a coachman, hadst thou known whose + notice thou didst engage, and whom thou mightest have obliged!—It + was the divine Clarissa Harlowe at whom thou gazest!—Mine own + Clarissa Harlowe!—But it was well for me that thou wert as + undistinguishing as the beasts thou drovest; otherwise, what a wild-goose + chace had I been led? + </p> + <p> + 'The lady, as well as the coachman, in short, seemed to want resolution; + —the horses kept on—[the fellow's head and eyes, no doubt, + turned behind him,] and the distance soon lengthened beyond recall. With a + wistful eye she looked after him; sighed and wept again; as the servant + who then slyly passed her, observed. + </p> + <p> + 'By this time she had reached the houses. She looked up at every one as + she passed; now and then breathing upon her bared hand, and applying it to + her swelled eyes, to abate the redness, and dry the tears. At last, seeing + a bill up for letting lodgings, she walked backwards and forwards half a + dozen times, as if unable to determine what to do. And then went farther + into the town, and there the fellow, being spoken to by one of his + familiars, lost her for a few minutes: but he soon saw her come out of a + linen-drapery shop, attended with a servant-maid, having, as it proved, + got that maid-servant to go with her to the house she is now at.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + 'The fellow, after waiting about an hour, and not seeing her come out, + returned, concluding that she had taken lodgings there.' + </p> + <p> + And here, supposing my narrative of the dramatic kind, ends Act the first. + And now begins + </p> + <p> + ACT II SCENE.—Hampstead Heath continued. ENTER MY RASCAL. + </p> + <p> + Will. having got at all these particulars, by exchanging others as frankly + against them, with which I had formerly prepared him both verbally and in + writing.—I found the people already of my party, and full of good + wishes for my success, repeating to me all they told him. + </p> + <p> + But he had first acquainted me with the accounts he had given them of his + lady and me. It is necessary that I give thee the particulars of his tale, + and I have a little time upon my hands: for the maid of the house, who had + been out of an errand, tells us, that she saw Mrs. Moore, [with whom must + be my first business,] go into the house of a young gentleman, within a + few doors of her, who has a maiden sister, Miss Rawlins by name, so + notified for prudence, that none of her acquaintance undertake any thing + of consequence without consulting her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile my honest coachman is walking about Miss Rawlin's door, in order + to bring me notice of Mrs. Moore's return to her own house. I hope her + gossip's-tale will be as soon told as mine—which take as follows:— + </p> + <p> + Will. told them, before I came, 'That his lady was but lately married to + one of the finest gentlemen in the world. But that he, being very gay and + lively, she was mortal jealous of him; and, in a fit of that sort, had + eloped from him. For although she loved him dearly, and he doated upon + her, (as well he might, since, as they had seen, she was the finest + creature that ever the sun shone upon,) yet she was apt to be very wilful + and sullen, if he might take liberty to say so—but truth was truth;—and + if she could not have her own way in every thing, would be for leaving + him. That she had three or four times played his master such tricks; but + with all the virtue and innocence in the world; running away to an + intimate friend of her's, who, though a young lady of honour, was but too + indulgent to her in this only failing; for which reason his master has + brought her to London lodgings; their usual residence being in the + country: and that, on his refusing to satisfy her about a lady he had been + seen with in St. James's Park, she had, for the first time since she came + to town, served his master thus, whom he had left half-distracted on this + account.' + </p> + <p> + And truly well he might, poor gentleman! cried the honest folks, pitying + me before they saw me. + </p> + <p> + 'He told them how he came by his intelligence of her; and made himself + such an interest with them, that they helped him to a change of clothes + for himself; and the landlord, at his request, privately inquired, if the + lady actually remained at Mrs. Moore's, and for how long she had taken the + lodgings?—which he found only to be for a week certain; but she had + said, that she believed she should hardly stay so long. And then it was + that he wrote his letter, and sent it by honest Peter Patrick, as thou + hast heard.' + </p> + <p> + When I came, my person and dress having answered Will.'s description, the + people were ready to worship me. I now-and-then sighed, now-and-then put + on a lighter air; which, however, I designed should show more of vexation + ill-disguised, than of real cheerfulness; and they told Will. it was such + a thousand pities so fine a lady should have such skittish tricks; adding, + that she might expose herself to great dangers by them; for that there + were rakes every where—[Lovelaces in every corner, Jack!] and many + about that town, who would leave nothing unattempted to get into her + company; and although they might not prevail upon her, yet might they + nevertheless hurt her reputation; and, in time, estrange the affections of + so fine a gentleman from her. + </p> + <p> + Good sensible people these!—Hey, Jack! + </p> + <p> + Here, Landlord, one word with you.—My servant, I find, has + acquainted you with the reason of my coming this way.—An unhappy + affair, Landlord! —A very unhappy affair!—But never was there + a more virtuous woman. + </p> + <p> + So, Sir, she seems to be. A thousand pities her ladyship has such ways— + and to so good-humoured a gentleman as you seem to be, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Mother-spoilt, Landlord!—Mother-spoilt!—that's the thing!—But + [sighing] I must make the best of it. What I want you to do for me is to + lend me a great-coat.—I care not what it is. If my spouse should see + me at a distance, she would make it very difficult for me to get at her + speech. A great-coat with a cape, if you have one. I must come upon her + before she is aware. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid, Sir, I have none fit for such a gentleman as you. + </p> + <p> + O, any thing will do!—The worse the better. + </p> + <p> + Exit Landlord.—Re-enter with two great-coats. + </p> + <p> + Ay, Landlord, this will be best; for I can button the cape over the lower + part of my face. Don't I look devilishly down and concerned, Landlord? + </p> + <p> + I never saw a gentleman with a better-natured look.—'Tis pity you + should have such trials, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I must be very unhappy, no doubt of it, Landlord.—And yet I am a + little pleased, you must needs think, that I have found her out before any + great inconvenience has arisen to her. However, if I cannot break her of + these freaks, she'll break my heart; for I do love her with all her + failings. + </p> + <p> + The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much. + </p> + <p> + Pray, your Honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma? + </p> + <p> + No—[and I sighed.]—We have been but a little while married; + and as I may say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way. + [Not a word of a lie in this, Jack.] But to tell you truth, Madam, she may + be compared to the dog in the manger— + </p> + <p> + I understand you, Sir, [simpering,] she is but young, Sir. I have heard of + one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, Sir.—But when + madam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you, (and it would be + strange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the best + of wives. + </p> + <p> + That's all my hope. + </p> + <p> + She is a fine lady as I ever beheld.—I hope, Sir, you won't be too + severe. She'll get over all these freaks, if once she be a mamma, I + warrant. + </p> + <p> + I can't be severe to her—she knows that. The moment I see her, all + resentment is over with me, if she gives me but one kind look. + </p> + <p> + All this time I was adjusting the horseman's coat, and Will. was putting + in the ties of my wig,* and buttoning the cape over my chin. + </p> + <p> + * The fashionable wigs at that time. + </p> + <p> + I asked the gentlewoman for a little powder. She brought me a powder- box, + and I slightly shook the puff over my hat, and flapt one side of it, + though the lace looked a little too gay for my covering; and, slouching it + over my eyes, Shall I be known, think you, Madam? + </p> + <p> + Your Honour is so expert, Sir!—I wish, if I may be so bold, your + lady has not some cause to be jealous. But it will be impossible, if you + keep your laced clothes covered, that any body should know you in that + dress to be the same gentleman—except they find you out by your + clocked stockings. + </p> + <p> + Well observed—Can't you, Landlord, lend or sell me a pair of + stockings, that will draw over these? I can cut off the feet, if they + won't go into my shoes. + </p> + <p> + He could let me have a pair of coarse, but clean, stirrup stockings, if I + pleased. + </p> + <p> + The best in the world for the purpose. + </p> + <p> + He fetch'd them. Will. drew them on; and my legs then made a good gouty + appearance. + </p> + <p> + The good woman smiling, wished me success; and so did the landlord. And as + thou knowest that I am not a bad mimic, I took a cane, which I borrowed of + the landlord, and stooped in the shoulders to a quarter of a foot less + height, and stumped away cross to the bowling-green, to practise a little + the hobbling gait of a gouty man.—The landlady whispered her + husband, as Will. tells me, He's a good one, I warrant him —I dare + say the fault lies not at all of one side. While mine host replied, That I + was so lively and so good-natured a gentleman, that he did not know who + could be angry with me, do what I would. A sensible fellow!—I wish + my charmer were of the same opinion. + </p> + <p> + And now I am going to try if I can't agree with goody Moore for lodgings + and other conveniencies for my sick wife. + </p> + <p> + 'Wife, Lovelace?' methinks thou interrogatest. + </p> + <p> + Yes, wife, for who knows what cautions the dear fugitive may have given in + apprehension of me? + </p> + <p> + 'But has goody Moore any other lodgings to let?' + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes; I have taken care of that; and find that she has just such + conveniencies as I want. And I know that my wife will like them. For, + although married, I can do every thing I please; and that's a bold word, + you know. But had she only a garret to let, I would have liked it; and + been a poor author afraid of arrests, and made that my place of refuge; + yet would have made shift to pay beforehand for what I had. I can suit + myself to any condition, that's my comfort. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The widow Moore returned! say you?—Down, down, flutterer!—This + impertinent heart is more troublesome to me than my conscience, I think. + —I shall be obliged to hoarsen my voice, and roughen my character, + to keep up with its puppily dancings. + </p> + <p> + But let me see, shall I be angry or pleased when I am admitted to my + beloved's presence? + </p> + <p> + Angry to be sure.—Has she not broken her word with me?—At a + time too when I was meditating to do her grateful justice?—And is + not breach of word a dreadful crime in good folks?—I have ever been + for forming my judgment of the nature of things and actions, not so much + from what they are in themselves, as from the character of the actors. + Thus it would be as odd a thing in such as we to keep our words with a + woman, as it would be wicked in her to break her's to us. + </p> + <p> + Seest thou not that this unseasonable gravity is admitted to quell the + palpitations of this unmanageable heart? But still it will go on with its + boundings. I'll try as I ride in my chariot to tranquilize. + </p> + <p> + 'Ride, Bob! so little a way?' + </p> + <p> + Yes, ride, Jack; for am I not lame? And will it not look well to have a + lodger who keeps his chariot? What widow, what servant, asks questions of + a man with an equipage? + </p> + <p> + My coachman, as well as my other servant, is under Will.'s tuition. + </p> + <p> + Never was there such a hideous rascal as he has made himself. The devil + only and his other master can know him. They both have set their marks + upon him. As to my honour's mark, it will never be out of his dam'd wide + mothe, as he calls it. For the dog will be hanged before he can lose the + rest of his teeth by age. + </p> + <p> + I am gone. + </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 XXIV + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. HAMPSTEAD, FRIDAY NIGHT, JUNE 9. + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, for the narrative of narratives. I will continue it as I + have opportunity; and that so dexterously, that, if I break off twenty + times, thou shalt not discern where I piece my thread. + </p> + <p> + Although grievously afflicted with the gout, I alighted out of my chariot + (leaning very hard on my cane with one hand, and on my new servant's + shoulder with the other) the same instant almost that he had knocked at + the door, that I might be sure of admission into the house. + </p> + <p> + I took care to button my great coat about me, and to cover with it even + the pummel of my sword, it being a little too gay for my years. I knew not + what occasion I might have for my sword. I stooped forward; blinked with + my eyes to conceal their lustre (no vanity in saying that, Jack); my chin + wrapt up for the tooth-ache; my slouched, laced hat, and so much of my wig + as was visible, giving me, all together, the appearance of an antiquated + beau. + </p> + <p> + My wife, I resolved beforehand, should have a complication of disorders. + </p> + <p> + The maid came to the door. I asked for her mistress. She showed me into + one of the parlours; and I sat down with a gouty Oh!— + </p> + <p> + ENTER GOODY MOORE. + </p> + <p> + Your servant, Madam—but you must excuse me; I cannot well stand—I + find by the bill at the door, that you have lodgings to let [mumbling my + words as if, like my man Will., I had lost some of my fore-teeth]: be + pleased to inform me what they are; for I like your situation—and I + will tell you my family—I have a wife, a good old woman—older + than myself, by the way, a pretty deal. She is in a bad state of health, + and is advised into the Hampstead air. She will have two maid servants and + a footman. The coach or chariot (I shall not have them put up both + together) we can put up any where, and the coachman will be with his + horses. + </p> + <p> + When, Sir, shall you want to come in? + </p> + <p> + I will take them from this very day; and, if convenient, will bring my + wife in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, Sir, you would board, as well as lodge? + </p> + <p> + That as you please. It will save me the trouble of bringing my cook, if we + do. And I suppose you have servants who know how to dress a couple of + dishes. My wife must eat plain food, and I don't love kickshaws. + </p> + <p> + We have a single lady, who will be gone in two or three days. She has one + of the best apartments: that will then be at liberty. + </p> + <p> + You have one or two good ones mean time, I presume, Madam, just to receive + my wife; for we have lost time—these damn'd physicians—excuse + me, Madam, I am not used to curse; but it is owing to the love I have for + my wife—they have kept her in hand, till they are ashamed to take + more fees, and now advise her to the air. I wish we had sent her hither at + first. But we must now make the best of it. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Madam, [for she looked hard at me,] that I am muffled up in + this warm weather. I am but too sensible that I have left my chamber + sooner that I ought, and perhaps shall have a return of my gout for it. I + came out thus muffled up with a dreadful pain in my jaws; an ague in them, + I believe. But my poor dear will not be satisfied with any body's care but + mine. And, as I told thee, we have lost time. + </p> + <p> + You shall see what accommodations I have, if you please, Sir. But I doubt + you are too lame to walk up stairs. + </p> + <p> + I can make shift to hobble up now I have rested a little. I'll just look + upon the apartment my wife is to have. Any thing may do for the servants: + and as you seem to be a good sort of gentlewoman, I shan't stand for a + price, and will pay well besides for the trouble I shall give. + </p> + <p> + She led the way; and I, helping myself by the banisters, made shift to get + up with less fatigue than I expected from ancles so weak. But oh! Jack, + what was Sixtus the Vth.'s artful depression of his natural powers to + mine, when, as this half-dead Montalto, he gaped for the pretendedly + unsought pontificate, and the moment he was chosen leapt upon the prancing + beast, which it was thought by the amazed conclave he was not able to + mount, without help of chairs and men? Never was there a more joyful heart + and lighter heels than mine joined together; yet both denied their + functions; the one fluttering in secret, ready to burst its bars for + relief-ful expression, the others obliged to an hobbling motion; when, + unrestrained, they would, in their master's imagination, have mounted him + to the lunar world without the help of a ladder. + </p> + <p> + There were three rooms on a floor: two of them handsome; and the third, + she said, still handsomer; but the lady was in it. + </p> + <p> + I saw, I saw she was! for as I hobbled up, crying out upon my weak ancles, + in the hoarse mumbling voice I had assumed, I beheld a little piece of her + as she just cast an eye (with the door a-jar, as they call it) to observe + who was coming up; and, seeing such an old clumsy fellow, great coated in + weather so warm, slouched and muffled up, she withdrew, shutting the door + without any emotion. But it was not so with me; for thou canst not imagine + how my heart danced to my mouth, at the very glimpse of her; so that I was + afraid the thump, thump, thumping villain, which had so lately thumped as + much to no purpose, would have choked me. + </p> + <p> + I liked the lodging well; and the more as she said the third room was + still handsomer. I must sit down, Madam, [and chose the darkest part of + the room]: Won't you take a seat yourself?—No price shall part us—but + I will leave the terms to you and my wife, if you please. And also whether + for board or not. Only please to take this for earnest, putting a guinea + into her hand—and one thing I will say; my poor wife loves money; + but is not an ill-natured woman. She was a great fortune to me: but, as + the real estate goes away at her death, I would fain preserve her for that + reason, as well as for the love I bear her as an honest man. But if she + makes too close a bargain with you, tell me; and, unknown to her, I will + make it up. This is my constant way: she loves to have her pen'orths; and + I would not have her vexed or made uneasy on any account. + </p> + <p> + She said, I was a very considerate gentleman; and, upon the condition I + had mentioned, she was content to leave the terms to my lady. + </p> + <p> + But, Madam, cannot a body just peep into the other apartment; that I may + be more particular to my wife in the furniture of it? + </p> + <p> + The lady desires to be private, Sir—but—and was going to ask + her leave. + </p> + <p> + I caught hold of her arm—However, stay, stay, Madam: it mayn't be + proper, if the lady loves to be private. Don't let me intrude upon the + lady— + </p> + <p> + No intrusion, Sir, I dare say: the lady is good-humoured. She will be so + kind as to step down into the parlour, I dare say. As she stays so little + a while, I am sure she will not wish to stand in my way. + </p> + <p> + No, Madam, that's true, if she be good-humoured, as you say—Has she + been with you long, Madam? + </p> + <p> + She came but yesterday, Sir— + </p> + <p> + I believe I just now saw the glimpse of her. She seems to be an elderly + lady. + </p> + <p> + No, Sir! you're mistaken. She's a young lady; and one of the handsomest I + ever saw. + </p> + <p> + Cot so, I beg her pardon! Not but that I should have liked her the better, + were she to stay longer, if she had been elderly. I have a strange taste, + Madam, you'll say; but I really, for my wife's sake, love every elderly + woman. Indeed I ever thought age was to be reverenced, which made me + (taking the fortune into the scale too, that I own) make my addresses to + my present dear. + </p> + <p> + Very good of you, Sir, to respect age: we all hope to live to be old. + </p> + <p> + Right, Madam.—But you say the lady is beautiful. Now you must know, + that though I choose to converse with the elderly, yet I love to see a + beautiful young woman, just as I love to see fine flowers in a garden. + There's no casting an eye upon her, is there, without her notice? For in + this dress, and thus muffled up about my jaws, I should not care to be + seen any more than she, let her love privacy as much as she will. + </p> + <p> + I will go and ask if I may show a gentleman the apartment, Sir; and, as + you are a married gentleman, and not over young, she'll perhaps make the + less scruple. + </p> + <p> + Then, like me, she loves elderly folks best perhaps. But it may be she has + suffered by young ones. + </p> + <p> + I fancy she has, Sir, or is afraid she shall. She desired to be very + private; and if by description inquired after, to be denied. + </p> + <p> + Thou art a true woman, goody Moore, thought I. + </p> + <p> + Good lack—good lack!—What may be her story then, I pray? + </p> + <p> + She is pretty reserved in her story: but, to tell you my thoughts, I + believe love is in the case: she is always in tears, and does not much + care for company. + </p> + <p> + Nay, Madam, it becomes not me to dive into ladies' secrets; I want not to + pry into other people's affairs. But, pray, how does she employ herself?—Yet + she came but yesterday; so you can't tell. + </p> + <p> + Writing continually, Sir. + </p> + <p> + These women, Jack, when you ask them questions by way of information, + don't care to be ignorant of any thing. + </p> + <p> + Nay, excuse me, Madam, I am very far from being an inquisitive man. But if + her case be difficult, and not merely love, as she is a friend of your's, + I would give her my advice. + </p> + <p> + Then you are a lawyer, Sir— + </p> + <p> + Why, indeed, Madam, I was some time at the bar; but I have long left + practice; yet am much consulted by my friends in difficult points. In a + pauper case I frequently give money; but never take any from the richest. + </p> + <p> + You are a very good gentleman, then, Sir. + </p> + <p> + Ay, Madam, we cannot live always here; and we ought to do what good we can—but + I hate to appear officious. If the lady stay any time, and think fit, upon + better acquaintance, to let me into her case, it may be a happy day for + her, if I find it a just one; for, you must know, that when I was at the + bar, I never was such a sad fellow as to undertake, for the sake of a + paltry fee, to make white black, and black white: For what would that have + been, but to endeavour to establish iniquity by quirks, while I robbed the + innocent? + </p> + <p> + You are an excellent gentleman, Sir: I wish [and then she sighed] I had + had the happiness to know there was such a lawyer in the world; and to + have been acquainted with him. + </p> + <p> + Come, come, Mrs. Moore, I think your name is, it may not be too late— + when you and I are better acquainted, I may help you perhaps.—But + mention nothing of this to the lady: for, as I said, I hate to appear + officious. + </p> + <p> + This prohibition, I knew, if goody Moore answered the specimen she had + given of her womanhood, would make her take the first opportunity to tell, + were it to be necessary to my purpose that she should. + </p> + <p> + I appeared, upon the whole, so indifferent about seeing the room, or the + lady, that the good woman was the more eager I should see both. And the + rather, as I, to stimulate her, declared, that there was more required in + my eye to merit the character of a handsome woman, than most people + thought necessary; and that I had never seen six truly lovely women in my + life. + </p> + <p> + To be brief, she went in; and after a little while came out again. The + lady, Sir, is retired to her closet. So you may go in and look at the + room. + </p> + <p> + Then how my heart began again to play its pug's tricks! + </p> + <p> + I hobbled in, and stumped about, and liked it very much; and was sure my + wife would. I begged excuse for sitting down, and asked, who was the + minister of the place? If he were a good preacher? Who preached at the + Chapel? And if he were a good preacher, and a good liver too, Madam—I + must inquire after that: for I love, but I must needs say, that the clergy + should practise what they preach. + </p> + <p> + Very right, Sir; but that is not so often the case as were to be wished. + </p> + <p> + More's the pity, Madam. But I have a great veneration for the clergy in + general. It is more a satire upon human nature than upon the cloth, if we + suppose those who have the best opportunities to do good, less perfect + than other people. For my part, I don't love professional any more than + national reflections.—But I keep the lady in her closet. My gout + makes me rude. + </p> + <p> + Then up from my seat stumped I—what do you call these + window-curtains, Madam? + </p> + <p> + Stuff-damask, Sir. + </p> + <p> + It looks mighty well, truly. I like it better than silk. It is warmer to + be sure, and much fitter for lodgings in the country; especially for + people in years. The bed is in a pretty state. + </p> + <p> + It is neat and clean, Sir: that's all we pretend to. + </p> + <p> + Ay, mighty well—very well—a silk camblet, I think—very + well, truly!—I am sure my wife will like it. But we would not turn + the lady out of her lodgings for the world. The other two apartments will + do for us at present. + </p> + <p> + Then stumping towards the closet, over the door of which hung a picture—What + picture is that—Oh! I see; a St. Cecilia! + </p> + <p> + A common print, Sir! + </p> + <p> + Pretty well, pretty well! It is after an Italian master.—I would not + for the world turn the lady out of her apartment. We can make shift with + the other two, repeated I, louder still: but yet mumblingly hoarse: for I + had as great regard to uniformity in accent, as to my words. + </p> + <p> + O Belford! to be so near my angel, think what a painful constraint I was + under. + </p> + <p> + I was resolved to fetch her out, if possible: and pretending to be going—you + can't agree as to any time, Mrs. Moore, when we can have this third room, + can you?—Not that [whispered I, loud enough to be heard in the next + room; not that] I would incommode the lady: but I would tell my wife when + abouts—and women, you know, Mrs. Moore, love to have every thing + before them of this nature. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore (said my charmer) [and never did her voice sound so harmonious + to me: Oh! how my heart bounded again! It even talked to me, in a manner; + for I thought I heard, as well as felt, its unruly flutters; and every + vein about me seemed a pulse; Mrs. Moore] you may acquaint the gentleman, + that I shall stay here only for two or three days at most, till I receive + an answer to a letter I have written into the country; and rather than be + your hindrance, I will take up with any apartment a pair of stairs higher. + </p> + <p> + Not for the world!—Not for the world, young lady! cried I.—My + wife, as I love her, should lie in a garret, rather than put such a + considerate young lady, as you seem to be, to the least inconveniency. + </p> + <p> + She opened not the door yet; and I said, but since you have so much + goodness, Madam, if I could but just look into the closet as I stand, I + could tell my wife whether it is large enough to hold a cabinet she much + values, and ill have with her wherever she goes. + </p> + <p> + Then my charmer opened the door, and blazed upon me, as it were, in a + flood of light, like what one might imagine would strike a man, who, born + blind, had by some propitious power been blessed with his sight, all at + once, in a meridian sun. + </p> + <p> + Upon my soul, I never was so strangely affected before. I had much ado to + forbear discovering myself that instant: but, hesitatingly, and in great + disorder, I said, looking into the closet and around it, there is room, I + see, for my wife's cabinet; and it has many jewels in it of high price; + but, upon my soul, [for I could not forbear swearing, like a puppy: habit + is a cursed thing, Jack—] nothing so valuable as a lady I see, can + be brought into it. + </p> + <p> + She started, and looked at me with terror. The truth of the compliment, as + far as I know, had taken dissimulation from my accent. + </p> + <p> + I saw it was impossible to conceal myself longer from her, any more than + (from the violent impulses of my passion) to forbear manifesting myself. I + unbuttoned therefore my cape, I pulled off my flapt slouched hat; I threw + open my great coat, and, like the devil in Milton [an odd comparison + though!]— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I started up in my own form divine, + Touch'd by the beam of her celestial eye, + More potent than Ithuriel's spear!— +</pre> + <p> + Now, Belford, for a similitude—now for a likeness to illustrate the + surprising scene, and the effect it had upon my charmer, and the + gentlewoman!—But nothing was like it, or equal to it. The plain fact + can only describe it, and set it off—thus then take it. + </p> + <p> + She no sooner saw who it was, than she gave three violent screams; and, + before I could catch her in my arms, (as I was about to do the moment I + discovered myself,) down she sunk at my feet in a fit; which made me curse + my indiscretion for so suddenly, and with so much emotion, revealing + myself. + </p> + <p> + The gentlewoman, seeing so strange an alteration in my person, and + features, and voice, and dress, cried out, Murder, help! murder, help! by + turns, for half a dozen times running. This alarmed the house, and up ran + two servant maids, and my servant after them. I cried out for water and + hartshorn, and every one flew a different way, one of the maids as fast + down as she came up; while the gentlewoman ran out of one room into + another, and by turns up and down the apartment we were in, without + meaning or end, wringing her foolish hands, and not knowing what she did. + </p> + <p> + Up then came running a gentleman and his sister, fetched, and brought in + by the maid, who had run down, and having let in a cursed crabbed old + wretch, hobbling with his gout, and mumbling with his hoarse + broken-toothed voice, who was metamorphosed all at once into a lively, gay + young fellow, with a clear accent, and all his teeth, she would have it, + that I was neither more nor less than the devil, and could not keep her + eye from my foot, expecting, no doubt, every minute to see it discover + itself to be cloven. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I was so intent upon restoring my angel, that I regarded + nobody else. And, at last, she slowly recovering motion, with bitter sighs + and sobs, (only the whites of her eyes however appearing for some + moments,) I called upon her in the tenderest accent, as I kneeled by her, + my arm supporting her head, My angel! my charmer! my Clarissa! look upon + me, my dearest life!—I am not angry with you; I will forgive you, my + best beloved. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman and his sister knew not what to make of all this: and the + less, when my fair-one, recovering her sight, snatched another look at me; + and then again groaned, and fainted away. + </p> + <p> + I threw up the closet-sash for air, and then left her to the care of the + young gentlewoman, the same notable Miss Rawlins, who I had heard of at + the Flask: and to that of Mrs. Moore; who by this time had recovered + herself; and then retiring to one corner of the room, I made my servant + pull off my gouty stockings, brush my hat, and loop it up into the usual + smart cock. + </p> + <p> + I then stept to the closet to Mr. Rawlins, whom, in the general confusion, + I had not much minded before.—Sir, said I, you have an uncommon + scene before you. The lady is my wife, and no gentleman's presence is + necessary here but my own. + </p> + <p> + I beg pardon, Sir; if the lady be your wife, I have no business here. But, + Sir, by her concern at seeing you— + </p> + <p> + Pray, Sir, none of your if's and but's, I beseech you: nor your concern + about the lady's concern. You are a very unqualified judge in this cause; + and I beg of you, Sir, to oblige me with your absence. The women only are + proper to be present on this occasion, added I; and I think myself obliged + to them for their care and kind assistance. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis well he made not another word: for I found my choler begin to rise. I + could not bear, that the finest neck, and arms, and foot, in the world, + should be exposed to the eyes of any man living but mine. + </p> + <p> + I withdrew once more from the closet, finding her beginning to recover, + lest the sight of me too soon should throw her back again. + </p> + <p> + The first words she said, looking round her with great emotion, were, Oh! + hide me, hide me! Is he gone?—Oh! hide me!—Is he gone? + </p> + <p> + Sir, said Miss Rawlins, coming to me with an air both peremptory and + assured, This is some surprising case. The lady cannot bear the sight of + you. What you have done is best known to yourself. But another such fit + will probably be her last. It would be but kind therefore for you to + retire. + </p> + <p> + It behoved me to have so notable a person of my party; and the rather as I + had disobliged her impertinent brother. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature, said I, may well, be concerned to see me. If you, + Madam, had a husband who loved you as I love her, you would not, I am + confident, fly from him, and expose yourself to hazards, as she does + whenever she has not all her way—and yet with a mind not capable of + intentional evil—but mother-spoilt!—This is her fault, and all + her fault: and the more inexcusable it is, as I am the man of her choice, + and have reason to think she loves me above all the men in the world. + </p> + <p> + Here, Jack, was a story to support to the lady; face to face too!* + </p> + <p> + * And here, Belford, lest thou, through inattention, should be surprised + at my assurance, let me remind thee (and that, thus, by way of marginal + observation, that I may not break in upon my narrative) that this my + intrepidity concerted (as I have from time to time acquainted thee) in + apprehension of such an event as has fallen out. For had not the dear + creature already passed for my wife before no less than four worthy + gentlemen of family and fortune?** and before Mrs. Sinclair, and her + household, and Miss Partington? And had she not agreed to her uncle's + expedient, that she should pass for such, from the time of Mr. Hickman's + application to that uncle;*** and that the worthy Capt. Tomlinson should + be allowed to propagate that belief: as he had actually reported to two + families (they possibly to more); purposely that it might come to the ears + of James Harlowe; and serve for a foundation for uncle John to build his + reconciliation-scheme upon?**** And canst thou think that nothing was + meant by all this contrivance? and that I am not still further prepared to + support my story? + </p> + <p> + ** See Vol. IV. Letter IV. towards the conclusion. *** Ibid. Letter XVI. + **** Ibid. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I little thought, at the time that I formed these precautionary + schemes, that she would ever have been able, if willing, to get out of my + hands. All that I hoped I should have occasion to have recourse to them + for, was only, in case I should have the courage to make the grand + attempt, and should succeed in it, to bring the dear creature [and this + out of tenderness to her, for what attention did I ever yet pay to the + grief, the execrations, the tears of a woman I had triumphed over?] to + bear me in her sight: to expostulate with me, to be pacified by my pleas, + and by my own future hopes, founded upon the reconciliatory-project, upon + my reiterated vows, and upon the Captain's assurances. Since in that case, + to forgive me, to have gone on with me, for a week, would have been to + forgive me, to have gone on with me, for ever. And that, had my eligible + life of honour taken place, her trials would all have been then over: and + she would have known nothing but gratitude, love, and joy, to the end of + one of our lives. For never would I, never could I, have abandoned such an + admirable creature as this. Thou knowest I never was a sordid villain to + any of her inferiors—Her inferiors, I may say—For who is not + her inferior? + </p> + <p> + You speak like a gentleman; you look like a gentleman, said Miss Rawlins—but, + Sir, this is a strange case; the lady sees to dread the sight of you. + </p> + <p> + No wonder, Madam; taking her a little on one side, nearer to Mrs. Moore. I + have three times already forgiven the dear creature—but this is + jealousy!—There is a spice of that in it—and of phrensy too + [whispered I, that it might have the face of a secret, and of consequence + the more engage their attention]—but our story is too long. + </p> + <p> + I then made a motion to go to my beloved. But they desired that I would + walk into the next room; and they would endeavour to prevail upon her to + lie down. + </p> + <p> + I begged that they would not suffer her to talk; for that she was + accustomed to fits, and, when in this way, would talk of any thing that + came uppermost: and the more she was suffered to run on, the worse she + was; and if not kept quiet, would fall into ravings: which might possibly + hold her a week. + </p> + <p> + They promised to keep her quiet; and I withdrew into the next room; + ordering every one down but Mrs. Moore and Miss Rawlins. + </p> + <p> + She was full of exclamations! Unhappy creature! miserable! ruined! and + undone! she called herself; wrung her hands, and begged they would assist + her to escape from the terrible evils she should otherwise be made to + suffer. + </p> + <p> + They preached patience and quietness to her; and would have had her to lie + down: but she refused; sinking, however, into an easy chair; for she + trembled so she could not stand. + </p> + <p> + By this time, I hoped, that she was enough recovered to bear a presence + that it behoved me to make her bear; and fearing she would throw out + something in her exclamations, that would still more disconcert me, I went + into the room again. + </p> + <p> + O there he is! said she, and threw her apron over her face—I cannot + see him!—I cannot look upon him!—Begone, begone! touch me not!— + </p> + <p> + For I took her struggling hand, beseeching her to be pacified; and + assuring her, that I would make all up with her upon her own terms and + wishes. + </p> + <p> + Base man! said the violent lady, I have no wishes, but never to behold you + more! Why must I be thus pursued and haunted? Have you not made me + miserable enough already?—Despoiled of all succour and help, and of + every friend, I am contented to be poor, low, and miserable, so I may live + free from your persecutions. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins stared at me [a confident slut this Miss Rawlins, thought I]: + so did Mrs. Moore. I told you so! whispering said I, turning to the women; + shaking my head with a face of great concern and pity; and then to my + charmer, My dear creature, how you rave! You will not easily recover from + the effects of this violence. Have patience, my love. Be pacified; and we + will coolly talk this matter over: for you expose yourself, as well as me: + these ladies will certainly think you have fallen among robbers, and that + I am the chief of them. + </p> + <p> + So you are! so you are! stamping, her face still covered [she thought of + Wednesday night, no doubt]; and, sighing as if her heart were breaking, + she put her hand to her forehead—I shall be quite distracted! + </p> + <p> + I will not, my dearest love, uncover your face. You shall not look upon + me, since I am so odious to you. But this is a violence I never thought + you capable of. + </p> + <p> + And I would have pressed her hand, as I held it, with my lips; but she + drew it from me with indignation. + </p> + <p> + Unhand me, Sir, said she. I will not be touched by you. Leave me to my + fate. What right, what title, have you to persecute me thus? + </p> + <p> + What right, what title, my dear!—But this is not a time—I have + a letter from Captain Tomlinson—here it is—offering it to her— + </p> + <p> + I will receive nothing from your hands—tell me not of Captain + Tomlinson—tell me not of any body—you have no right to invade + me thus— once more leave me to my fate—have you not made me + miserable enough? + </p> + <p> + I touched a delicate string, on purpose to set her in such a passion + before the women, as might confirm the intimation I had given of a + phrensical disorder. + </p> + <p> + What a turn is here!—Lately so happy—nothing wanting but a + reconciliation between you and your friends!—That reconciliation in + such a happy train—shall so slight, so accidental an occasion be + suffered to overturn all our happiness? + </p> + <p> + She started up with a trembling impatience, her apron falling from her + indignant face—now, said she, that thou darest to call the occasion + slight and accidental, and that I am happily out of thy vile hands, and + out of a house I have reason to believe as vile, traitor and wretch as + thou art, I will venture to cast an eye upon thee—and Oh! that it + were in my power, in mercy to my sex, to look thee first into shame and + remorse, and then into death! + </p> + <p> + This violent tragedy-speech, and the high manner in which she uttered it, + had its desired effect. I looked upon the women, and upon her by turns, + with a pitying eye; and they shook their wise heads, and besought me to + retire, and her to lie down to compose herself. + </p> + <p> + This hurricane, like other hurricanes, was presently allayed by a shower. + She threw herself once more into her armed chair, and begged pardon of the + women for her passionate excess; but not of me: yet I was in hopes, that + when compliments were stirring, I should have come in for a share. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Ladies, said I, [with assurance enough, thou'lt say,] this + violence is not natural to my beloved's temper—misapprehension— + </p> + <p> + Misapprehension, wretch!—And want I excuses from thee! + </p> + <p> + By what a scorn was every lovely feature agitated! + </p> + <p> + Then turning her face from me, I have not patience, O thou guileful + betrayer, to look upon thee! Begone! Begone! With a face so unblushing, + how darest thou appear in my presence? + </p> + <p> + I thought then, that the character of a husband obliged me to be angry. + </p> + <p> + You may one day, Madam, repent this treatment:—by my soul, you may. + You know I have not deserved it of you—you know—I have not. + </p> + <p> + Do I know you have not?—Wretch! Do I know— + </p> + <p> + You do, Madam—and never did man of my figure and consideration, [I + thought it was proper to throw that in] meet with such treatment— + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her hands: indignation kept her silent. + </p> + <p> + But all is of a piece with the charge you bring against me of despoiling + you of all succour and help, of making you poor and low, and with other + unprecedented language. I will only say, before these two gentlewomen, + that since it must be so, and since your former esteem for me is turned + into so riveted an aversion, I will soon, very soon, make you entirely + easy. I will be gone:—I will leave you to your own fate, as you call + it; and may that be happy!—Only, that I may not appear to be a + spoiler, a robber indeed, let me know whither I shall send your apparel, + and every thing that belongs to you, and I will send it. + </p> + <p> + Send it to this place; and assure me, that you will never molest me more; + never more come near me; and that is all I ask of you. + </p> + <p> + I will do so, Madam, said I, with a dejected air. But did I ever think I + should be so indifferent to you?—However, you must permit me to + insist on your reading this letter; and on your seeing Captain Tomlinson, + and hearing what he has to say from your uncle. He will be here by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + Don't trifle with me, said she in an imperious tone—do as you offer. + I will not receive any letter from your hands. If I see Captain Tomlinson, + it shall be on his own account, not on your's. You tell me you will send + me my apparel—if you would have me believe any thing you say, let + this be the test of your sincerity.—Leave me now, and send my + things. + </p> + <p> + The women started.—They did nothing but stare; and appeared to be + more and more at a loss what to make of the matter between us. + </p> + <p> + I pretended to be going from her in a pet; but, when I had got to the + door, I turned back; and, as if I had recollected myself—One word + more, my dearest creature!—Charming, even in your anger!—O my + fond soul! said I, turning half round, and pulling out my handkerchief.— + </p> + <p> + I believe, Jack, my eyes did glisten a little. I have no doubt but they + did. The women pitied me—honest souls! They showed they had each of + them a handkerchief as well as I. So, has thou not observed (to give a + familiar illustration,) every man in a company of a dozen, or more, + obligingly pull out his watch, when some one has asked what's o'clock?— + As each man of a like number, if one talks of his beard, will fall to + stroking his chin with his four fingers and thumb. + </p> + <p> + One word only, Madam, repeated I, (as soon as my voice had recovered its + tone,) I have represented to Captain Tomlinson in the most favourable + light the cause of our present misunderstanding. You know what your uncle + insists upon, and with which you have acquiesced.—The letter in my + hand, [and again I offered it to her,] will acquaint you with what you + have to apprehend from your brother's active malice. + </p> + <p> + She was going to speak in a high accent, putting the letter from her, with + an open palm—Nay, hear me out, Madam—The Captain, you know, + has reported our marriage to two different persons. It is come to your + brother's ears. My own relations have also heard of it.—Letters were + brought me from town this morning, from Lady Betty Lawrance, and Miss + Montague. Here they are. [I pulled them out of my pocket, and offered them + to her, with that of the Captain; but she held back her still open palm, + that she might not receive them.] Reflect, Madam, I beseech you, reflect + upon the fatal consequences with which this, your high resentment, may be + attended. + </p> + <p> + Ever since I knew you, said she, I have been in a wilderness of doubt and + error. I bless God that I am out of your hands. I will transact for myself + what relates to myself. I dismiss all your solicitude for me.— Am I + not my own mistress?—Have you any title?— + </p> + <p> + The women stared—[the devil stare ye, thought I!—Can ye do + nothing but stare?]—It was high time to stop her here. + </p> + <p> + I raised my voice to drown her's.—You used, my dearest creature, to + have a tender and apprehensive heart.—You never had so much reason + for such a one as now. + </p> + <p> + Let me judge for myself, upon what I shall see, not upon what I shall + hear.—Do you think I shall ever?— + </p> + <p> + I dreaded her going on—I must be heard, Madam, (raising my voice + still higher,)—you must let me read one paragraph or two out of this + letter to you, if you will not read it yourself— + </p> + <p> + Begone from me, Man!—Begone from me with thy letters! What pretence + hast thou for tormenting me thus? What right?—What title?— + </p> + <p> + Dearest creature! what questions you ask!—Questions that you can as + well answer yourself— + </p> + <p> + I can, I will, and thus I answer them— + </p> + <p> + Still louder I raised my voice.—She was overborne.—Sweet soul! + It would be hard, thought I, [and yet I was very angry with her,] if such + a spirit as thine cannot be brought to yield to such a one as mine! + </p> + <p> + I lowered my voice on her silence. All gentle, all intreative, my accent. + My head bowed—one hand held out—the other on my honest heart. + —For heaven's sake, my dearest creature, resolve to see Captain + Tomlinson with temper. He would have come along with me, but I was willing + to try to soften your mind first on this fatal misapprehension, and this + for the same of your own wishes. For what is it otherwise to me, whether + your friends are, or are not, reconciled to us?—Do I want any favour + from them?—For your own mind's sake, therefore, frustrate not + Captain Tomlinson's negociation. That worthy gentleman will be here in the + afternoon; Lady Betty will be in town, with my cousin Montague, in a day + or two.—They will be your visiters. I beseech you do not carry this + misunderstanding so far, as that Lord M. and Lady Betty, and Lady Sarah, + may know it. [How considerable this made me look to the women!] Lady Betty + will not let you rest till you consent to accompany her to her own seat—and + to that lady may you safely intrust your cause. + </p> + <p> + Again, upon my pausing a moment, she was going to break out. I liked not + the turn of her countenance, nor the tone of her voice—'And thinkest + thou, base wretch,' were the words she did utter: I again raised my voice, + and drowned her's.—Base wretch, Madam?—You know that I have + not deserved the violent names you have called me. Words so opprobrious + from a mind so gentle!—But this treatment is from you, Madam?—From + you, whom I love more than my own soul!—By that soul, I swear that I + do.—[The women looked upon each other—they seemed pleased with + my ardour.—Women, whether wives, maids, or widows, love ardours: + even Miss Howe, thou knowest, speaks up for ardours,*]—Nevertheless, + I must say, that you have carried matters too far for the occasion. I see + you hate me— + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letters XXIX. and XXXIV. + </p> + <p> + She was just going to speak—If we are to separate for ever, in a + strong and solemn voice, proceeded I, this island shall not long be + troubled with me. Mean time, only be pleased to give these letters a + perusal, and consider what is to be said to your uncle's friend, and what + he is to say to your uncle.—Any thing will I come into, (renounce + me, if you will,) that shall make for your peace, and for the + reconciliation your heart was so lately set upon. But I humbly conceive, + that it is necessary that you should come into better temper with me, were + it but to give a favourable appearance to what has passed, and weight to + any future application to your friends, in whatever way you shall think + proper to make it. + </p> + <p> + I then put the letters into her lap, and retired into the next apartment + with a low bow, and a very solemn air. + </p> + <p> + I was soon followed by the two women. Mrs. Moore withdrew to give the fair + perverse time to read them: Miss Rawlins for the same reason, and because + she was sent for home. + </p> + <p> + The widow besought her speedy return. I joined in the same request; and + she was ready enough to promise to oblige us. + </p> + <p> + I excused myself to Mrs. Moore for the disguise I had appeared in at + first, and for the story I had invented. I told her that I held myself + obliged to satisfy her for the whole floor we were upon; and for an upper + room for my servant, and that for a month certain. + </p> + <p> + She made many scruples, and begged she might not be urged, on this head, + till she had consulted Miss Rawlins. + </p> + <p> + I consented; but told her, that she had taken my earnest, and I hoped + there was no room for dispute. + </p> + <p> + Just then Miss Rawlins returned, with an air of eager curiosity; and + having been told what had passed between Mrs. Moore and me, she gave + herself airs of office immediately: which I humoured, plainly perceiving + that if I had her with me I had the other. + </p> + <p> + She wished, if there were time for it, and if it were not quite + impertinent in her to desire it, that I would give Mrs. Moore and her a + brief history of an affair, which, as she said, bore the face of novelty, + mystery, and surprise. For sometimes it looked to her as if we were + married; at other times that point appeared doubtful; and yet the lady did + not absolutely deny it, but, upon the whole, thought herself highly + injured. + </p> + <p> + I said that our's was a very particular case.—That, were I to + acquaint them with it, some part of it would hardly appear credible. But, + however, as they seemed hardly to be persons of discretion, I would give + them a brief account of the whole; and this in so plain and sincere a + manner, that it should clear up, to their satisfaction, every thing that + had passed, or might hereafter pass between us. + </p> + <p> + They sat down by me and threw every feature of their faces into attention. + I was resolved to go as near the truth as possible, lest any thing should + drop from my spouse to impeach my veracity; and yet keep in view what + passed at the Flask. + </p> + <p> + It is necessary, although thou knowest my whole story, and a good deal of + my views, that thou shouldst be apprized of the substance of what I told + them. + </p> + <p> + 'I gave them, in as concise a manner as I was able, this history of our + families, fortunes, alliances, antipathies, her brother's and mine + particularly. I averred the truth of our private marriage.' The Captain's + letter, which I will enclose, will give thee my reasons for that. And, + besides, the women might have proposed a parson to me by way of + compromise. 'I told them the condition my spouse had made me swear to; and + to which she held me, in order, I said, to induce me the sooner to be + reconciled to her relations. + </p> + <p> + 'I owned, that this restraint made me sometimes ready to fly out.' And + Mrs. Moore was so good as to declare, that she did not much wonder at it. + </p> + <p> + Thou art a very good sort of woman, Mrs. Moore, thought I. + </p> + <p> + As Miss Howe has actually detected our mother, and might possibly find + some way still to acquaint her friend with her discoveries, I thought it + proper to prepossess them in favour of Mrs. Sinclair and her two nieces. + </p> + <p> + I said, 'they were gentlewomen born; that they had not bad hearts; that + indeed my spouse did not love them; they having once taken the liberty to + blame her for her over-niceness with regard to me. People, I said, even + good people, who knew themselves to be guilty of a fault they had no + inclination to mend, were too often least patient when told of it; as they + could less bear than others to be thought indifferently of.' + </p> + <p> + Too often the case, they owned. + </p> + <p> + 'Mrs. Sinclair's house was a very handsome house, and fit to receive the + first quality, [true enough, Jack!] Mrs. Sinclair was a woman very easy in + her circumstances:—A widow gentlewoman, as you, Mrs. Moore, are.— + Lets lodgings, as you, Mrs. Moore, do.—Once had better prospects as + you, Mrs. Moore, may have had: the relict of Colonel Sinclair;—you, + Mrs. Moore, might know Colonel Sinclair—he had lodgings at + Hampstead.' + </p> + <p> + She had heard of the name. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh! he was related to the best families in Scotland!—And his widow + is not to be reflected upon because she lets lodgings you know, Mrs. Moore— + you know, Miss Rawlins.' + </p> + <p> + Very true, and very true.—And they must needs say, it did not look + quite so pretty, in such a lady as my spouse, to be so censorious. + </p> + <p> + A foundation here, thought I, to procure these women's help to get back + the fugitive, or their connivance, at least, at my doing so; as well as + for anticipating any future information from Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + I gave them a character of that virago; and intimated, 'that for a head to + contrive mischief, and a heart to execute it, she had hardly her equal in + her sex.' + </p> + <p> + To this Miss Howe it was, Mrs. Moore said, she supposed, that my spouse + was so desirous to dispatch a man and horse, by day-dawn, with a letter + she wrote before she went to bed last night, proposing to stay no longer + than till she had received an answer to it. + </p> + <p> + The very same, said I; I knew she would have immediate recourse to her. I + should have been but too happy, could I have prevented such a letter from + passing, or so to have it managed, as to have it given into Mrs. Howe's + hands, instead of her daughter's. Women who had lived some time in the + world knew better, than to encourage such skittish pranks in young wives. + </p> + <p> + Let me just stop to tell thee, while it is in my head, that I have since + given Will. his cue to find out where the man lives who is gone with the + fair fugitive's letter; and, if possible, to see him on his return, before + he sees her. + </p> + <p> + I told the women, 'I despaired that it would ever be better with us while + Miss Howe had so strange an ascendancy over my spouse, and remained + herself unmarried. And until the reconciliation with her friends could be + effected; or a still happier event—as I should think it, who am the + last male of my family; and which my foolish vow, and her rigour, had + hitherto'— + </p> + <p> + Here I stopt, and looked modest, turning my diamond ring round my finger; + while goody Moore looked mighty significant, calling it a very particular + case; and the maiden fanned away, and primm'd, and purs'd, to show that + what I had said needed no farther explanantion. + </p> + <p> + 'I told them the occasion of our present difference. I avowed the reality + of the fire; but owned, that I would have made no scruple of breaking the + unnatural oath she had bound me in, (having a husband's right on my side,) + when she was so accidentally frighted into my arms; and I blamed myself + excessively, that I did not; since she thought fit to carry her resentment + so high, and had the injustice to suppose the fire to be a contrivance of + mine.' + </p> + <p> + Nay, for that matter, Mrs. Moore said, as we were married, and madam was + so odd—every gentleman would not—and stopt there Mrs. Moore. + </p> + <p> + 'To suppose I should have recourse to such a poor contrivance, said I, + when I saw the dear creature every hour.'—Was not this a bold put, + Jack? + </p> + <p> + A most extraordinary case, truly, cried the maiden; fanning, yet coming in + with her Well-but's!—and her sifting Pray, Sir's!—and her + restraining Enough, Sir's.—flying from the question to the question—her + seat now-and-then uneasy, for fear my want of delicacy should hurt her + abundant modesty; and yet it was difficult to satisfy her super-abundant + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + 'My beloved's jealousy, [and jealousy of itself, to female minds, accounts + for a thousand unaccountablenesses,] and the imputation of her + half-phrensy, brought upon her by her father's wicked curse, and by the + previous persecutions she had undergone from all her family, were what I + dwelt upon, in order to provide against what might happen.' + </p> + <p> + In short, 'I owned against myself most of the offences which I did not + doubt but she would charge me with in their hearing; and as every cause + has a black and white side, I gave the worst parts of our story the + gentlest turn. And when I had done, acquainted them with some of the + contents of that letter of Captain Tomlinson which I left with the lady. I + concluded with James Harlowe, and of Captain Singleton, or of any + sailor-looking men.' + </p> + <p> + This thou wilt see, from the letter itself, was necessary to be done. + Here, therefore, thou mayest read it. And a charming letter to my purpose + wilt thou find it to be, if thou givest the least attention to its + contents. + </p> + <p> + TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDN. JUNE 7. + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR, + </p> + <p> + Although I am obliged to be in town to-morrow, or next day at farthest, + yet I would not dispense with writing to you, by one of my servants, (whom + I send up before upon a particular occasion,) in order to advertise you, + that it is probable you will hear from some of your own relations on your + [supposed*] nuptials. One of the persons, (Mr. Lilburne by name,) to whom + I hinted my belief of your marriage, happens to be acquainted with Mr. + Spurrier, Lady Betty Lawrance's steward, and (not being under any + restriction) mentioned it to Mr. Spurrier, and he to Lady Betty, as a + thing certain; and this, (though I have not the honour to be personally + known to her Ladyship,) brought on an inquiry from her Ladyship to me by + her gentleman; who coming to me in company with Mr. Lilburne, I had no way + but to confirm the report.—And I understand, that Lady Betty takes + it amiss that she was not acquainted with so desirable a piece of news + from yourself. + </p> + <p> + * What is between hooks [ ] thou mayest suppose, Jack, I sunk upon the + women, in the account I gave them of the contents of this letter. + </p> + <p> + Her Ladyship, it seems, has business that calls her to town [and you will + possibly choose to put her right. If you do, it will, I presume, be in + confidence; that nothing may transpire from your own family to contradict + what I have given out.] + </p> + <p> + [I have ever been of opinion, That truth ought to be strictly adhered to + on all occasions: and am concerned that I have, (though with so good a + view,) departed from my old maxim. But my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe + would have it so. Yet I never knew a departure of this kind a single + departure. But, to make the best of it now, allow me, Sir, once more to + beg the lady, as soon as possible, to authenticate the report given out.] + When both you and the lady join in the acknowledgement of your marriage, + it will be impertinent in any one to be inquisitive as to the day or week. + [And if as privately celebrated as you intend, (while the gentlewomen with + whom you lodge are properly instructed, as you say they are, and who shall + actually believe you were married long ago,) who shall be able to give a + contradiction to my report?] + </p> + <p> + And yet it is very probable, that minute inquiries will be made; and this + is what renders precaution necessary; for Mr. James Harlowe will not + believe that you are married; and is sure, he says, that you both lived + together when Mr. Hickman's application was made to Mr. John Harlowe: and + if you lived together any time unmarried, he infers from your character, + Mr. Lovelace, that it is not probable that you would ever marry. And he + leaves it to his two uncles to decide, if you even should be married, + whether there be not room to believe, that his sister was first + dishonoured; and if so, to judge of the title she will have to their + favour, or to the forgiveness of any of her family.—I believe, Sir, + this part of my letter had best be kept from the lady. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Harlowe is resolved to find this out, and to come at his + sister's speech likewise: and for that purpose sets out to-morrow, as I am + well informed, with a large attendance armed; and Mr. Solmes is to be of + the party. And what makes him the more earnest to find it out is this:—Mr. + John Harlowe has told the whole family that he will alter, and new-settle + his will. Mr. Antony Harlowe is resolved to do the same by his; for, it + seems, he has now given over all thoughts of changing his condition, + having lately been disappointed in a view he had of that sort with Mrs. + Howe. These two brothers generally act in concert; and Mr. James Harlowe + dreads (and let me tell you, that he has reason for it, on my Mr. + Harlowe's account) that his younger sister will be, at last, more + benefited than he wishes for, by the alteration intended. He has already + been endeavouring to sound his uncle Harlowe on this subject; and wanted + to know whether any new application had been made to him on his sister's + part. Mr. Harlowe avoided a direct answer, and expressed his wishes for a + general reconciliation, and his hopes that his niece were married. This + offended the furious young man, and he reminded his uncle of engagements + they had all entered into at his sister's going away, not to be reconciled + but by general consent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. John Harlowe complains to me often of the uncontroulableness of his + nephew; and says, that now that the young man has not any body of whose + superior sense he stands in awe, he observes not decency in his behaviour + to any of them, and this makes my Mr. Harlowe still more desirous than + ever of bringing his younger niece into favour again. I will not say all I + might of this young man's extraordinary rapaciousness:—but one would + think, that these grasping men expect to live for ever! + </p> + <p> + 'I took the liberty but within these two hours to propose to set on foot + (and offered my cover to) a correspondence between my friend and his + daughter-niece, as she still sometimes fondly calls her. She was mistress + of so much prudence, I said, that I was sure she could better direct every + thing to its desirable end, than any body else could. But he said, he did + not think himself entirely at liberty to take such a step at present; and + that it was best that he should have it in his power to say, occasionally, + that he had not any correspondence with her, or letter from her. + </p> + <p> + 'You will see, Sir, from all this, the necessity of keeping our treaty an + absolute secret; and if the lady has mentioned it to her worthy friend + Miss Howe, I hope it is in confidence.' + </p> + <p> + [And now, Sir, a few lines in answer to your's of Monday last.] + </p> + <p> + [Mr. Harlowe was very well pleased with your readiness to come into his + proposal. But as to what you both desire, that he will be present at the + ceremony, he said, that his nephew watched all his steps so narrowly, that + he thought it was not practicable (if he were inclinable) to oblige you: + but that he consented, with all his heart, that I should be the person + whom he had stipulated should be privately present at the ceremony on his + part.] + </p> + <p> + [However, I think, I have an expedient for this, if your lady continues to + be very desirous of her uncle's presence (except he should be more + determined than his answer to me seemed to import); of which I shall + acquaint you, and perhaps of what he says to it, when I have the pleasure + to see you in town. But, indeed, I think you have no time to lose. Mr. + Harlowe is impatient to hear, that you are actually one; and I hope I may + carry him down word, when I leave you next, that I saw the ceremony + performed.] + </p> + <p> + [If any obstacle arises from the lady, (from you it cannot,) I shall be + tempted to think a little hardly of her punctilio.] + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harlowe hopes, Sir, that you will rather take pains to avoid, than to + meet, this violent young man. He has the better opinion of you, let me + tell you, Sir, from the account I gave him of your moderation and + politeness; neither of which are qualities with his nephew. But we have + all of us something to amend. + </p> + <p> + You cannot imagine how dearly my friend still loves this excellent niece + of his.—I will give you an instance of it, which affected me a good + deal—-'If once more, said he, (the last time but one we were + together,) I can but see this sweet child gracing the upper end of my + table, as mistress of my house, in my allotted month; all the rest of my + family present but as her guests; for so I formerly would have it; and had + her mother's consent for it—' There he stopt; for he was forced to + turn his reverend face from me. Tears ran down his cheeks. Fain would he + have hid them: but he could not—'Yet—yet, said he—how—how—' + [poor gentleman, he perfectly sobbed,] 'how shall I be able to bear the + first meeting!' + </p> + <p> + I bless God I am no hard-hearted man, Mr. Lovelace: my eyes showed to my + worthy friend, that he had no reason to be ashamed of his humanity before + me. + </p> + <p> + I will put an end to this long epistle. Be pleased to make my compliments + acceptable to the most excellent of women; as well as believe me to be, + </p> + <p> + Dear Sir, Your faithful friend, and humble servant, ANTONY TOMLINSON. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + During the conversation between me and the women, I had planted myself at + the farthest end of the apartment we were in, over against the door, which + was open; and opposite to the lady's chamber-door, which was shut. I spoke + so low that it was impossible for her, at that distance, to hear what we + said; and in this situation I could see if her door was opened. + </p> + <p> + I told the women, that what I had mentioned to my spouse of Lady Betty's + coming to town with her niece Montague, and of their intention to visit my + beloved, whom they had never seen, nor she them, was real; and that I + expected news of their arrival every hour. I then showed them copies of + the other two letters, which I had left with her; the one from Lady Betty, + the other from my cousin Montague.—And here thou mayest read them if + thou wilt. + </p> + <p> + Eternally reproaching, eternally upbraiding me, are my impertinent + relations. But they are fond of occasions to find fault with me. Their + love, their love, Jack, and their dependence on my known good humour, are + their inducements. + </p> + <p> + TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WED. MORN. JUNE 7. + </p> + <p> + DEAR NEPHEW, + </p> + <p> + I understand that at length all our wishes are answered in your happy + marriage. But I think we might as well have heard of it directly from you, + as from the round-about way by which we have been made acquainted with it. + Methinks, Sir, the power and the will we have to oblige you, should not + expose us the more to your slights and negligence. My brother had set his + heart upon giving to you the wife we have all so long wished you to have. + But if you were actually married at the time you made him that request + (supposing, perhaps, that his gout would not let him attend you) it is but + like you.*—If your lady had her reasons to wish it to be private + while the differences between her family and self continue, you might + nevertheless have communicated it to us with that restriction; and we + should have forborne the public manifestations of our joy upon an event we + have so long desired. + </p> + <p> + * I gave Mrs. Moore and Miss Rawlins room to think this reproach just, + Jack. + </p> + <p> + The distant way we have come to know it is by my steward; who is + acquainted with a friend of Captain Tomlinson, to whom that gentleman + revealed it: and he, it seems, had it from yourself and lady, with such + circumstances as leave it not to be doubted. + </p> + <p> + I am, indeed, very much disobliged with you: so is Lady Sarah. But I have + a very speedy opportunity to tell you so in person; being obliged to go to + town to my old chancery affair. My cousin Leeson, who is, it seems, + removed to Albemarle-street, has notice of it. I shall be at her house, + where I bespeak your attendance of Sunday night. I have written to my + cousin Charlotte for either her, or her sister, to meet me at Reading, and + accompany me to town. I shall stay but a few days; my business being + matter of form only. On my return I shall pop upon Lord M. at M. Hall, to + see in what way his last fit has left him. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, having told you my mind on your negligence, I cannot help + congratulating you both on the occasion.—Your fair lady + particularly, upon her entrance into a family which is prepared to admire + and love her. + </p> + <p> + My principal intention of writing to you (dispensing with the necessary + punctilio) is, that you may acquaint my dear new niece, that I will not be + denied the honour of her company down with me into Oxfordshire. I + understand that your proposed house and equipages cannot be soon ready. + She shall be with me till they are. I insist upon it. This shall make all + up. My house shall be her own. My servants and equipages her's. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah, who has not been out of her own house for months, will oblige + me with her company for a week, in honour of a niece so dearly beloved, as + I am sure she will be of us all. + </p> + <p> + Being but in lodgings in town, neither you nor your lady can require much + preparation. + </p> + <p> + Some time on Monday I hope to attend the dear young lady, to make her my + compliments; and to receive her apology for your negligence: which, and + her going down with me, as I said before, shall be full satisfaction. Mean + time, God bless her for her courage, (tell her I say so;) and bless you + both in each other; and that will be happiness to us all— + particularly to + </p> + <p> + Your truly affectionate Aunt, ELIZ. LAWRANCE. + </p> + <p> + TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. DEAR COUSIN, + </p> + <p> + At last, as we understand, there is some hope of you. Now does my good + Lord run over his bead-roll of proverbs; of black oxen, wild oats, long + lanes, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + Now, Cousin, say I, is your time come; and you will be no longer, I hope, + an infidel either to the power or excellence of the sex you have pretended + hitherto so much as undervalue; nor a ridiculer or scoffer at an + institution which all sober people reverence, and all rakes, sooner or + later, are brought to reverence, or to wish they had. + </p> + <p> + I want to see how you become your silken fetters: whether the charming + yoke sits light upon your shoulders. If with such a sweet yoke-fellow it + does not, my Lord, and my sister, as well as I, think that you will + deserve a closer tie about your neck. + </p> + <p> + His Lordship is very much displeased, that you have not written him word + of the day, the hour, the manner, and every thing. But I ask him, how he + can already expect any mark of deference or politeness from you? He must + stay, I tell him, till that sign of reformation, among others, appear from + the influence and example of your lady: but that, if ever you will be good + for any thing, it will be quickly seen. And, O Cousin, what a vast, vast + journey have you to take from the dreary land of libertinism, through the + bright province of reformation, into the serene kingdom of happiness!—You + had need to lose no time. You have many a weary step to tread, before you + can overtake those travellers who set out for it from a less remote + quarter. But you have a charming pole-star to guide you; that's your + advantage. I wish you joy of it: and as I have never yet expected any + highly complaisant thing from you, I make no scruple to begin first; but + it is purely, I must tell you, in respect to my new cousin; whose + accession into our family we most heartily congratulate and rejoice in. + </p> + <p> + I have a letter from Lady Betty. She commands either my attendance or my + sister's to my cousin Leeson's. She puts Lord M. in hopes, that she shall + certainly bring down with her our lovely new relation; for she says, she + will not be denied. His Lordship is the willinger to let me be the person, + as I am in a manner wild to see her; my sister having two years ago had + that honour at Sir Robert Biddulph's. So get ready to accompany us in our + return; except your lady had objections strong enough to satisfy us all. + Lady Sarah longs to see her; and says, This accession to the family will + supply to it the loss of her beloved daughter. + </p> + <p> + I shall soon, I hope, pay my compliments to the dear lady in person: so + have nothing to add, but that I am + </p> + <p> + Your old mad Playfellow and Cousin, CHARLOTTE MONTAGUE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The women having read the copies of these two letters, I thought that I + might then threaten and swagger—'But very little heart have I, said + I, to encourage such a visit from Lady Betty and Miss Montague to my + spouse. For after all, I am tired out with her strange ways. She is not + what she was, and (as I told her in your hearing, Ladies) I will leave + this plaguy island, though the place of my birth, and though the stake I + have in it is very considerable, and go and reside in France or Italy, and + never think of myself as a married man, nor live like one.' + </p> + <p> + O dear! said one. + </p> + <p> + That would be a sad thing! said the other. + </p> + <p> + Nay, Madam, [turning to Mrs. Moore,]—Indeed, Madam, [to Miss + Rawlins,]— I am quite desperate. I can no longer bear such usage. I + have had the good fortune to be favoured by the smiles of very fine + ladies, though I say it [and I looked very modest] both abroad and at home—[Thou + knowest this to be true, Jack]. With regard to my spouse here, I have but + one hope left, (for as to the reconciliation with her friends, I left, I + scorn them all too much to value that, but for her sake,) and that was, + that if it pleased God to bless us with children, she might entirely + recover her usual serenity; and we might then be happy. But the + reconciliation her heart was so much set upon, is now, as I hinted before, + entirely hopeless—made so, by this rash step of her's, and by the + rash temper she is in; since (as you will believe) her brother and sister, + when they come to know it, will make a fine handle of it against us both;—affecting, + as they do at present, to disbelieve our marriage— and the dear + creature herself too ready to countenance such a disbelief —as + nothing more than the ceremony—as nothing more—hem!—as + nothing more than the ceremony— + </p> + <p> + Here, as thou wilt perceive, I was bashful; for Miss Rawlins, by her + preparatory primness, put me in mind that it was proper to be so— + </p> + <p> + I turned half round; then facing the fan-player, and the matron—you + yourselves, Ladies, knew not what to believe till now, that I have told + you our story; and I do assure you, that I shall not give myself the same + trouble to convince people I hate; people from whom I neither expect nor + desire any favour; and who are determined not to be convinced. And what, + pray, must be the issue, when her uncle's friend comes, although he seems + to be a truly worthy man? It is not natural for him to say, 'To what + purpose, Mr. Lovelace, should I endeavour to bring about a reconciliation + between Mrs. Lovelace and her friends, by means of her elder uncle, when a + good understanding is wanting between yourselves?'—A fair inference, + Mrs. Moore!—A fair inference, Miss Rawlins.—And here is the + unhappiness—till she is reconciled to them, this cursed oath, in her + notion, is binding. + </p> + <p> + The women seemed moved; for I spoke with great earnestness, though low—and + besides, they love to have their sex, and its favours, appear of + importance to us. They shook their deep heads at each other, and looked + sorrowful: and this moved my tender heart too. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis an unheard-of case, Ladies—had she not preferred me to all + mankind—There I stopped—and that, resumed I, feeling for my + handkerchief, is what staggered Captain Tomlinson when he heard of her + flight; who, the last time he saw us together, saw the most affectionate + couple on earth!—the most affectionate couple on earth!—in the + accent-grievous, repeated I. + </p> + <p> + Out then I pulled my handkerchief, and putting it to my eyes, arose, and + walked to the window—It makes me weaker than a woman, did I not love + her, as never man loved his wife! [I have no doubt but I do, Jack.] + </p> + <p> + There again I stopt; and resuming—Charming creature, as you see she + is, I wish I had never beheld her face!—Excuse me, Ladies; + traversing the room, and having rubbed my eyes till I supposed them red, I + turned to the women; and, pulling out my letter-case, I will show you one + letter—here it is—read it, Miss Rawlins, if you please—it + will confirm to you how much all my family are prepared to admire her. I + am freely treated in it;—so I am in the two others: but after what I + have told you, nothing need be a secret to you two. + </p> + <p> + She took it, with an air of eager curiosity, and looked at the seal, + ostentatiously coroneted; and at the superscription, reading out, To + Robert Lovelace, Esq.—Ay, Madam—Ay, Miss, that's my name, + [giving myself an air, though I had told it to them before,] I am not + ashamed of it. My wife's maiden name—unmarried name, I should rather + say—fool that I am!—and I rubbed my cheek for vexation [Fool + enough in conscience, Jack!] was Harlowe—Clarissa Harlowe—you + heard me call her my Clarissa— + </p> + <p> + I did—but thought it to be a feigned or love-name, said Miss + Rawlins. + </p> + <p> + I wonder what is Miss Rawlins's love-name, Jack. Most of the fair + romancers have in their early womanhood chosen love-names. No parson ever + gave more real names, than I have given fictitious ones. And to very good + purpose: many a sweet dear has answered me a letter for the sake of owning + a name which her godmother never gave her. + </p> + <p> + No—it was her real name, I said. + </p> + <p> + I bid her read out the whole letter. If the spelling be not exact, Miss + Rawlins, said I, you will excuse it; the writer is a lord. But, perhaps, I + may not show it to my spouse; for if those I have left with her have no + effect upon her, neither will this: and I shall not care to expose my Lord + M. to her scorn. Indeed I begin to be quite careless of consequences. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins, who could not but be pleased with this mark of my + confidence, looked as if she pitied me. + </p> + <p> + And here thou mayest read the letter, No. III. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. M. HALL, WEDN. JUNE 7. + </p> + <p> + COUSIN LOVELACE, + </p> + <p> + I think you might have found time to let us know of your nuptials being + actually solemnized. I might have expected this piece of civility from + you. But perhaps the ceremony was performed at the very time that you + asked me to be your lady's father—but I should be angry if I proceed + in my guesses—and little said is soon amended. + </p> + <p> + But I can tell you, that Lady Betty Lawrance, whatever Lady Sarah does, + will not so soon forgive you, as I have done. Women resent slights longer + than men. You that know so much of the sex (I speak it not, however, to + your praise) might have known that. But never was you before acquainted + with a lady of such an amiable character. I hope there will be but one + soul between you. I have before now said, that I will disinherit you, and + settle all I can upon her, if you prove not a good husband to her. + </p> + <p> + May this marriage be crowned with a great many fine boys (I desire no + girls) to build up again a family so antient! The first boy shall take my + surname by act of parliament. That is my will. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty and niece Charlotte will be in town about business before you + know where you are. They long to pay their compliments to your fair bride. + I suppose you will hardly be at The Lawn when they get to town; because + Greme informs me, you have sent no orders there for your lady's + accommodation. + </p> + <p> + Pritchard has all things in readiness for signing. I will take no + advantage of your slights. Indeed I am too much used to them—more + praise to my patience than to your complaisance, however. + </p> + <p> + One reason for Lady Betty's going up, as I may tell you under the rose, + is, to buy some suitable presents for Lady Sarah and all of us to make on + this agreeable occasion. + </p> + <p> + We would have blazed it away, could we have had timely notice, and thought + it would have been agreeable to all round. The like occasions don't happen + every day. + </p> + <p> + My most affectionate compliments and congratulations to my new niece, + conclude me, for the present, in violent pain, that with all your + heroicalness would make you mad, + </p> + <p> + Your truly affectionate uncle, M. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + This letter clench'd the nail. Not but that, Miss Rawlins said, she saw I + had been a wild gentleman; and, truly she thought so the moment she beheld + me. + </p> + <p> + They began to intercede for my spouse, (so nicely had I turned the + tables;) and that I would not go abroad and disappoint a reconciliation so + much wished for on one side, and such desirable prospects on the other in + my own family. + </p> + <p> + Who knows, thought I to myself, but more may come of this plot, than I had + even promised myself? What a happy man shall I be, if these women can be + brought to join to carry my marriage into consummation! + </p> + <p> + Ladies, you are exceedingly good to us both. I should have some hopes, if + my unhappily nice spouse could be brought to dispense with the unnatural + oath she has laid me under. You see what my case is. Do you think I may + not insist upon her absolving me from this abominable oath? Will you be so + good as to give your advice, that one apartment may serve for a man and + his wife at the hour of retirement?—[Modestly put, Belford!—And + let me here observe, that few rakes would find a language so decent as to + engage modest women to talk with him in, upon such subjects.] + </p> + <p> + They both simpered, and looked upon one another. + </p> + <p> + These subjects always make women simper, at least. No need but of the most + delicate hints to them. A man who is gross in a woman's company, ought to + be knocked down with a club: for, like so many musical instruments, touch + but a single wire, and the dear souls are sensible all over. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Miss Rawlins learnedly said, playing with her fan, a casuist + would give it, that the matrimonial vow ought to supercede any other + obligation. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore, for her part, was of opinion, that, if the lady owned herself + to be a wife, she ought to behave like one. + </p> + <p> + Whatever be my luck, thought I, with this all-eyed fair-one, any other + woman in the world, from fifteen to five-and-twenty, would be mine upon my + own terms before the morning. + </p> + <p> + And now, that I may be at hand to take all advantages, I will endeavour, + said I to myself, to make sure of good quarters. + </p> + <p> + I am your lodger, Mrs. Moore, in virtue of the earnest I have given you + for these apartments, and for any one you can spare above for my servants. + Indeed for all you have to spare—For who knows what my spouse's + brother may attempt? I will pay you to your own demand; and that for a + month or two certain, (board included,) as I shall or shall not be your + hindrance. Take that as a pledge; or in part of payment— offering + her a thirty pound bank note. + </p> + <p> + She declined taking it; desiring she might consult the lady first; adding, + that she doubted not my honour; and that she would not let her apartments + to any other person, whom she knew not something of, while I and the lady + were here. + </p> + <p> + The Lady! The Lady! from both women's mouth's continually (which still + implied a doubt in their hearts): and not Your Spouse, and Your Lady, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I never met with such women, thought I:—so thoroughly convinced but + this moment, yet already doubting—I am afraid I have a couple of + skeptics to deal with. + </p> + <p> + I knew no reason, I said, for my wife to object to my lodging in the same + house with her here, any more than in town, at Mrs. Sinclair's. But were + she to make such objection, I would not quit possession since it was not + unlikely that the same freakish disorder which brought her to Hampstead, + might carry her absolutely out of my knowledge. + </p> + <p> + They both seemed embarrassed; and looked upon one another; yet with such + an air, as if they thought there was reason in what I said. And I declared + myself her boarder, as well as lodger; and dinner-time approaching, was + not denied to be the former. + </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 XXV + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + I thought it was now high time to turn my whole mind to my beloved; who + had had full leisure to weigh the contents of the letters I had left with + her. + </p> + <p> + I therefore requested Mrs. Moore to step in, and desire to know whether + she would be pleased to admit me to attend her in her apartment, on + occasion of the letters I had left with her; or whether she would favour + me with her company in the dining-room? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore desired Miss Rawlins to accompany her in to the lady. They + tapped at the door, and were both admitted. + </p> + <p> + I cannot but stop here for one minute to remark, though against myself, + upon that security which innocence gives, that nevertheless had better + have in it a greater mixture of the serpent with the dove. For here, + heedless of all I could say behind her back, because she was satisfied + with her own worthiness, she permitted me to go on with my own story, + without interruption, to persons as great strangers to her as me; and who, + as strangers to both, might be supposed to lean to the side most injured; + and that, as I managed it, was to mine. A dear, silly soul, thought I, at + the time, to depend upon the goodness of her own heart, when the heart + cannot be seen into but by its actions; and she, to appearance, a runaway, + an eloper, from a tender, a most indulgent husband!—To neglect to + cultivate the opinion of individuals, when the whole world is governed by + appearance! + </p> + <p> + Yet what can be expected of an angel under twenty?—She has a world + of knowledge:—knowledge speculative, as I may say, but no + experience.—How should she?—Knowledge by theory only is a + vague, uncertain light: a Will o' the Wisp, which as often misleads the + doubting mind, as puts it right. + </p> + <p> + There are many things in the world, could a moralizer say, that would + afford inexpressible pleasure to a reflecting mind, were it not for the + mixture they come to us with. To be graver still, I have seen parents, + [perhaps my own did so,] who delighted in those very qualities in their + children while young, the natural consequences of which, (too much + indulged and encouraged,) made them, as they grew up, the plague of their + hearts.—To bring this home to my present purpose, I must tell thee, + that I adore this charming creature for her vigilant prudence; but yet I + would not, methinks, wish her, by virtue of that prudence, which is, + however, necessary to carry her above the devices of all the rest of the + world, to be too wise for mine. + </p> + <p> + My revenge, my sworn revenge, is, nevertheless, (adore her as I will,) + uppermost in my heart.—Miss Howe says that my love is a Herodian + love.* By my soul, that girl's a witch! I am half sorry to say, that I + find a pleasure in playing the tyrant over what I love. Call it an + ungenerous pleasure, if thou wilt: softer hearts than mine know it. The + women, to a woman, know it, and show it too, whenever they are trusted + with power. And why should it be thought strange, that I, who love them so + dearly, and study them so much, should catch the infection of them? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </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 XXVI + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + I will now give thee the substance of the dialogue that passed between the + two women and the lady. Wonder not, that a perverse wife makes a listening + husband. The event, however, as thou wilt find, justified the old + observation, That listners seldom hear good of themselves. Conscious of + their own demerits, if I may guess by myself, [There's ingenuousness, + Jack!] and fearful of censure, they seldom find themselves disappointed. + There is something of sense, after all in these proverbs, in these + phrases, in this wisdom of nations. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore was to be the messenger, but Miss Rawlins began the dialogue. + </p> + <p> + Your SPOUSE, Madam,—[Devil!—only to fish for a negative or + affirmative declaration.] + </p> + <p> + Cl. My spouse, Madam— + </p> + <p> + Miss R. Mr. Lovelace, Madam, avers that you are married to him; and begs + admittance, or your company in the dining-room, to talk upon the subject + of the letters he left with you. + </p> + <p> + Cl. He is a poor wicked wretch. Let me beg of you, Madam, to favour me + with your company as often as possible while he is hereabouts, and I + remain here. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. I shall with pleasure attend you, Madam: but, methinks, I could + wish you would see the gentleman, and hear what he has to say on the + subject of the letters. + </p> + <p> + Cl. My case is a hard, a very hard one—I am quite bewildered!-I know + not what to do!—I have not a friend in the world that can or will + help me! Yet had none but friends till I knew that man! + </p> + <p> + Miss R. The gentleman neither looks nor talks like a bad man.—Not a + very bad man, as men go. + </p> + <p> + As men go! Poor Miss Rawlins, thought I; and dost thou know how men go? + </p> + <p> + Cl. O Madam, you know him not! He can put on the appearance of an angel of + light; but has a black, a very black heart! + </p> + <p> + Poor I!— + </p> + <p> + Miss R. I could not have thought it, truly! But men are very deceitful, + now-a-days. + </p> + <p> + Now-a-days!—A fool!—Have not her history-books told her that + they were always so? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore, sighing. I have found it so, I am sure, to my cost!— + </p> + <p> + Who knows but in her time poor goody Moore may have met with a Lovelace, + or a Belford, or some such vile fellow? My little harum-scarum beauty + knows not what strange histories every woman living, who has had the least + independence of will, could tell her, were such to be as communicative as + she is. But here's the thing—I have given her cause enough of + offence; but not enough to make her hold her tongue. + </p> + <p> + Cl. As to the letters he has left with me, I know not what to say to them: + but am resolved never to have any thing to say to him. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. If, Madam, I may be allowed to say so, I think you carry matters + very far. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Has he been making a bad cause a good one with you, Madam?—That + he can do with those who know him not. Indeed I heard him talking, thought + not what he said, and am indifferent about it.—But what account does + he give of himself? + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to hear this. To arrest, to stop her passion, thought I, in + the height of its career, is a charming presage. + </p> + <p> + Then the busy Miss Rawlins fished on, to find out from her either a + confirmation or disavowal of my story—Was Lord M. my uncle? Did I + court her at first with the allowance of her friends, her brother + excepted? Had I a rencounter with that brother? Was she so persecuted in + favour of a very disagreeable man, one Solmes, as to induce her to throw + herself into my protection? + </p> + <p> + None of these were denied. All the objections she could have made, were + stifled, or kept in, by the considerations, (as she mentioned,) that she + should stay there but a little while, and that her story was too long; but + Miss Rawlins would not be thus easily answered. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. He says, Madam, that he could not prevail for marriage, till he + had consented, under a solemn oath, to separate beds, while your family + remained unreconciled. + </p> + <p> + Cl. O the wretch! What can be still in his head, to endeavour to pass + these stories upon strangers? + </p> + <p> + So no direct denial, thought I.—Admirable!—All will do + by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. He has owned that an accidental fire had frightened you very much + on Wednesday night—and that—and that—an accidental fire + had frightened you—very much frightened you—last Wednesday + night! + </p> + <p> + Then, after a short pause—In short, he owned, that he had taken some + innocent liberties, which might have led to a breach of the oath you had + imposed upon him; and that this was the cause of your displeasure. + </p> + <p> + I would have been glad to see how my charmer then looked.—To be sure + she was at a loss in her own mind, to justify herself for resenting so + highly an offence so trifling.—She hesitated—did not presently + speak.—When she did, she wished that she, (Miss Rawlins,) might + never meet with any man who would take such innocent liberties with her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins pushed further. + </p> + <p> + Your case, to be sure, Madam, is very particular: but if the hope of a + reconciliation with your own friends is made more distant by your leaving + him, give me leave to say, that 'tis pity—'tis pity—[I suppose + the maiden then primm'd, fann'd, and blush'd—'tis pity] the oath + cannot be dispensed with; especially as he owns he has not been so strict + a liver. + </p> + <p> + I could have gone in and kissed the girl. + </p> + <p> + Cl. You have heard his story. Mine, as I told you before, is too long, and + too melancholy: my disorder on seeing the wretch is too great; and my time + here is too short, for me to enter upon it. And if he has any end to serve + by his own vindication, in which I shall not be a personal sufferer, let + him make himself appear as white as an angel, with all my heart. + </p> + <p> + My love for her, and the excellent character I gave her, were then + pleaded. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Specious seducer!—Only tell me if I cannot get away from him by + some back way? + </p> + <p> + How my heart then went pit-a-pat, to speak in the female dialect. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Let me look out—[I heard the sash lifted up.]—Whither does + that path lead? Is there no possibility of getting to a coach? Surely he + must deal with some fiend, or how could he have found me out? Cannot I + steal to some neighbouring house, where I may be concealed till I can get + quite away? You are good people!—I have not been always among such!— + O help me, help me, Ladies! [with a voice of impatience,] or I am ruined! + </p> + <p> + Then pausing, Is that the way to Hendon? [pointing, I suppose.] Is Hendon + a private place?—The Hampstead coach, I am told, will carry + passengers thither. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore. I have an honest friend at Mill-Hill, [Devil fetch her! + thought I,] where, if such be your determination, Madam, and if you think + yourself in danger, you may be safe, I believe. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Any where, if I can but escape from this man! Whither does that path + lead, out yonder?—What is that town on the right hand called? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore. Highgate, Madam. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. On the side of the heath is a little village, called North-end. A + kinswoman of mine lives there. But her house is small. I am not sure she + could accommodate such a lady. + </p> + <p> + Devil take her too! thought I,—I imagined that I had made myself a + better interest in these women. But the whole sex love plotting—and + plotters too, Jack. + </p> + <p> + Cl. A barn, an outhouse, a garret, will be a palace to me, if it will but + afford me a refuge from this man! + </p> + <p> + Her senses, thought I, are much livelier than mine.—What a devil + have I done, that she should be so very implacable? I told thee, Belford, + all I did: Was there any thing in it so very much amiss? Such prospects of + a family reconciliation before her too! To be sure she is a very sensible + lady! + </p> + <p> + She then espied my new servant walking under the window, and asked if he + were not one of mine? + </p> + <p> + Will. was on the look-out for old Grimes, [so is the fellow called whom my + beloved has dispatched to Miss Howe.] And being told that the man she saw + was my servant; I see, said she, that there is no escaping, unless you, + Madam, [to Miss Rawlins, I suppose,] can befriend me till I can get + farther. I have no doubt that the fellow is planted about the house to + watch my steps. But the wicked wretch his master has no right to controul + me. He shall not hinder me from going where I please. I will raise the + town upon him, if he molests me. Dear Ladies, is there no back-door for me + to get out at while you hold him in talk? + </p> + <p> + Miss R. Give me leave to ask you, Madam, Is there no room to hope for + accommodation? Had you not better see him? He certainly loves you dearly: + he is a fine gentleman; you may exasperate him, and make matters more + unhappy for yourself. + </p> + <p> + Cl. O Mrs. Moore! O Miss Rawlins! you know not the man! I wish not to see + his face, nor to exchange another word with him as long as I live. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore. I don't find, Miss Rawlins, that the gentleman has + misrepresented any thing. You see, Madam, [to my Clarissa,] how respectful + he is; not to come in till permitted. He certainly loves you dearly. Pray, + Madam, let him talk to you, as he wishes to do, on the subject of his + letters. + </p> + <p> + Very kind of Mrs. Moore!—Mrs. Moore, thought I, is a very good + woman. I did not curse her then. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins said something; but so low that I could not hear what it was. + Thus it was answered. + </p> + <p> + Cl. I am greatly distressed! I know not what to do!—But, Mrs. Moore, + be so good as to give his letters to him—here they are.—Be + pleased to tell him, that I wish him and Lady Betty and Miss Montague a + happy meeting. He never can want excuses to them for what has happened, + any more than pretences to those he would delude. Tell him, that he has + ruined me in the opinion of my own friends. I am for that reason the less + solicitous how I appear to his. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore then came to me; and I, being afraid that something would pass + mean time between the other two, which I should not like, took the + letters, and entered the room, and found them retired into the closet; my + beloved whispering with an air of earnestness to Miss Rawlins, who was all + attention. + </p> + <p> + Her back was towards me; and Miss Rawlins, by pulling her sleeve, giving + intimation of my being there—Can I have no retirement uninvaded, + Sir, said she, with indignation, as if she were interrupted in some talk + her heart was in?—What business have you here, or with me?—You + have your letters; have you not? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. I have, my dear; and let me beg of you to consider what you are + about. I every moment expect Captain Tomlinson here. Upon my soul, I do. + He has promised to keep from your uncle what has happened: but what will + he think if he find you hold in this strange humour? + </p> + <p> + Cl. I will endeavour, Sir, to have patience with you for a moment or two, + while I ask you a few questions before this lady, and before Mrs. Moore, + [who just then came in,] both of whom you have prejudiced in your favour + by your specious stories:—Will you say, Sir, that we are married + together? Lay your hand upon your heart, and answer me, am I your wedded + wife? + </p> + <p> + I am gone too far, thought I, to give up for such a push as this, home one + as it is. + </p> + <p> + My dearest soul! how can you put such a question? It is either for your + honour or my own, that it should be doubted?—Surely, surely, Madam, + you cannot have attended to the contents of Captain Tomlinson's letter. + </p> + <p> + She complained often of want of spirits throughout our whole contention, + and of weakness of person and mind, from the fits she had been thrown + into: but little reason had she for this complaint, as I thought, who was + able to hold me to it, as she did. I own that I was excessively concerned + for her several times. + </p> + <p> + You and I! Vilest of Men!— + </p> + <p> + My name is Lovelace, Madam— + </p> + <p> + Therefore it is that I call you the vilest of men. [Was this pardonable, + Jack!]—You and I know the truth, the whole truth.—I want not + to clear up my reputation with these gentlewomen:—that is already + lost with every one I had most reason to value: but let me have this new + specimen of what you are capable of—say, wretch, (say, Lovelace, if + thou hadst rather,) art thou really and truly my wedded husband?—Say; + answer without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + She trembled with impatient indignation; but had a wildness in her manner, + which I took some advantage of, in order to parry this cursed thrust. And + a cursed thrust it was; since, had I positively averred it, she would + never have believed any thing I said: and had I owned that I was not + married, I had destroyed my own plot, as well with the women as with her; + and could have no pretence for pursuing her, or hindering her from going + wheresoever she pleased. Not that I was ashamed to aver it, had it been + consistent with policy. I would not have thee think me such a milk-sop + neither. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. My dearest love, how wildly you talk! What would you have me + answer? It is necessary that I should answer? May I not re-appeal this to + your own breast, as well as to Captain Tomlinson's treaty and letter? You + know yourself how matters stand between us.—And Captain Tomlinson— + </p> + <p> + Cl. O wretch! Is this an answer to my question? Say, are we married, or + are we not? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. What makes a marriage, we all know. If it be the union of two + hearts, [there was a turn, Jack!] to my utmost grief, I must say that we + are not; since now I see you hate me. If it be the completion of marriage, + to my confusion and regret, I must own we are not. But, my dear, will you + be pleased to consider what answer half a dozen people whence you came, + could give to your question? And do not now, in the disorder of your mind, + and the height of passion, bring into question before these gentlewomen a + point you have acknowledged before those who know us better. + </p> + <p> + I would have whispered her about the treaty with her uncle, and about the + contents of the Captain's letter; but, retreating, and with a rejecting + hand, Keep thy distance, man, cried the dear insolent—to thine own + heart I appeal, since thou evadest me thus pitifully!—I own no + marriage with thee!—Bear witness, Ladies, I do not. And cease to + torment me, cease to follow me.—Surely, surely, faulty as I have + been, I have not deserved to be thus persecuted!—I resume, + therefore, my former language: you have no right to pursue me: you know + you have not: begone then, and leave me to make the best of my hard lot. O + my dear, cruel father! said she, in a violent fit of grief [falling upon + her knees, and clasping her uplifted hands together] thy heavy curse is + completed upon thy devoted daughter! I am punished, dreadfully punished, + by the very wretch in whom I had placed my wicked confidence! + </p> + <p> + By my soul, Belford, the little witch with her words, but more by her + manner, moved me! Wonder not then that her action, her grief, her tears, + set the women into the like compassionate manifestations. + </p> + <p> + Had I not a cursed task of it? + </p> + <p> + The two women withdrew to the further end of the room, and whispered, a + strange case! There is no phrensy here—I just heard said. + </p> + <p> + The charming creature threw her handkerchief over her head and neck, + continuing kneeling, her back towards me, and her face hid upon a chair, + and repeatedly sobbed with grief and passion. + </p> + <p> + I took this opportunity to step to the women to keep them steady. + </p> + <p> + You see, Ladies, [whispering,] what an unhappy man I am! You see what a + spirit this dear creature has!—All, all owing to her implacable + relations, and to her father's curse.—A curse upon them all! they + have turned the head of the most charming woman in the world! + </p> + <p> + Ah! Sir, Sir, replied Miss Rawlins, whatever be the fault of her + relations, all is not as it should be between you and her. 'Tis plain she + does not think herself married: 'tis plain she does not: and if you have + any value for the poor lady, and would not totally deprive her of her + senses, you had better withdraw, and leave to time and cooler + consideration the event in your favour. + </p> + <p> + She will compel me to this at last, I fear, Miss Rawlins; I fear she will; + and then we are both undone: for I cannot live without her; she knows it + too well: and she has not a friend who will look upon her: this also she + knows. Our marriage, when her uncle's friend comes, will be proved + incontestably. But I am ashamed to think I have given her room to believe + it no marriage: that's what she harps upon! + </p> + <p> + Well, 'tis a strange case, a very strange one, said Miss Rawlins; and was + going to say further, when the angry beauty, coming towards the door, + said, Mrs. Moore, I beg a word with you. And they both stepped into the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + I saw her just before put a parcel into her pocket; and followed them out, + for fear she should slip away; and stepping to the stairs, that she might + not go by me, Will., cried I, aloud [though I knew he was not near] + —Pray, child, to a maid, who answered, call either of my servants to + me. + </p> + <p> + She then came up to me with a wrathful countenance: do you call your + servant, Sir, to hinder me, between you, from going where I please? + </p> + <p> + Don't, my dearest life, misinterpret every thing I do. Can you think me so + mean and unworthy as to employ a servant to constrain you?—I call + him to send to the public-houses, or inns in this town, to inquire after + Captain Tomlinson, who may have alighted at some one of them, and be now, + perhaps, needlessly adjusting his dress; and I would have him come, were + he to be without clothes, God forgive me! for I am stabbed to the heart by + your cruelty. + </p> + <p> + Answer was returned, that neither of my servants was in the way. + </p> + <p> + Not in the way, said I!—Whither can the dogs be gone? + </p> + <p> + O Sir! with a scornful air; not far, I'll warrant. One of them was under + the window just now; according to order, I suppose, to watch my steps— + but I will do what I please, and go where I please; and that to your face. + </p> + <p> + God forbid, that I should hinder you in any thing that you may do with + safety to yourself! + </p> + <p> + Now I verily believe that her design was to slip out, in pursuance of the + closet-whispering between her and Miss Rawlins; perhaps to Miss Rawlins's + house. + </p> + <p> + She then stept back to Mrs. Moore, and gave her something, which proved to + be a diamond ring, and desired her [not whisperingly, but with an air of + defiance to me] that that might be a pledge for her, till she defrayed her + demands; which she should soon find means to do; having no more money + about her than she might have occasion for before she came to an + acquaintance's. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore would have declined taking it; but she would not be denied; and + then, wiping her eyes, she put on her gloves—nobody has a right to + stop me, said she!—I will go!—Whom should I be afraid of?—Her + very question, charming creature! testifying her fear. + </p> + <p> + I beg pardon, Madam, [turning to Mrs. Moore, and courtesying,] for the + trouble I have given you.—I beg pardon, Madam, to Miss Rawlins, + [courtesying likewise to her,]—you may both hear of me in a happier + hour, if such a one fall to my lot—and God bless you both!—struggling + with her tears till she sobbed—and away was tripping. + </p> + <p> + I stepped to the door: I put it to; and setting my back against it, took + her struggling hand—My dearest life! my angel! said I, why will you + thus distress me?—Is this the forgiveness which you so solemnly + promised?— + </p> + <p> + Unhand me, Sir!—You have no business with me! You have no right over + me! You know you have not. + </p> + <p> + But whither, whither, my dearest love, would you go!—Think you not + that I will follow you, were it to the world's end!—Whither would + you go? + </p> + <p> + Well do you ask me, whither I would go, who have been the occasion that I + have not a friend left!—But God, who knows my innocence, and my + upright intentions, will not wholly abandon me when I am out of your + power; but while I am in it, I cannot expect a gleam of the divine grace + or favour to reach me. + </p> + <p> + How severe is this!—How shockingly severe!—Out of your + presence, my angry fair-one, I can neither hope for the one nor the other. + As my cousin Montague, in the letter you have read, observes, You are my + polar star and my guide, and if ever I am to be happy, either here or + hereafter, it must be in and by you. + </p> + <p> + She would then have opened the door. But I, respectfully opposing her, + Begone, man! Begone, Mr. Lovelace! said she, stop not in my way. If you + would not that I should attempt the window, give me passage by the door; + for, once more, you have no right to detain me. + </p> + <p> + Your resentments, my dearest life, I will own to be well grounded. I will + acknowledge that I have been all in fault. On my knee, [and down I dropt,] + I ask your pardon. And can you refuse to ratify your own promise? Look + forward to the happy prospect before us. See you not my Lord M. and Lady + Sarah longing to bless you, for blessing me, and their whole family? Can + you take no pleasure in the promised visit of Lady Betty and my cousin + Montague? And in the protection they offer you, if you are dissatisfied + with mine? Have you no wish to see your uncle's friend? Stay only till + Captain Tomlinson comes. Receive from him the news of your uncle's + compliance with the wishes of both. + </p> + <p> + She seemed altogether distressed; was ready to sink; and forced to lean + against the wainscot, as I kneeled at her feet. A stream of tears at last + burst from her less indignant eyes. Good heaven! said she, lifting up her + lovely face, and clasped hands, what is at last to be my destiny? Deliver + me from this dangerous man; and direct me—I know not what to do, + what I can do, nor what I ought to do! + </p> + <p> + The women, as I had owned our marriage to be but half completed, heard + nothing in this whole scene to contradict (not flagrantly to contradict) + what I had asserted. They believed they saw in her returning temper, and + staggered resolution, a love for me, which her indignation had before + suppressed; and they joined to persuade her to tarry till the Captain + came, and to hear his proposals; representing the dangers to which she + would be exposed; the fatigues she might endure; a lady of her appearance, + unguarded, unprotected. On the other hand they dwelt upon my declared + contrition, and on my promises; for the performance of which they offered + to be bound. So much had my kneeling humility affected them. + </p> + <p> + Women, Jack, tacitly acknowledge the inferiority of their sex, in the + pride they take to behold a kneeling lover at their feet. + </p> + <p> + She turned from me, and threw herself into a chair. + </p> + <p> + I arose and approached her with reverence. My dearest creature, said I, + and was proceeding, but, with a face glowing with conscious dignity, she + interrupted me—Ungenerous, ungrateful Lovelace! You know not the + value of the heart you have insulted! Nor can you conceive how much my + soul despises your meanness. But meanness must ever be the portion of the + man, who can act vilely! + </p> + <p> + The women believing we were likely to be on better terms, retired. The + dear perverse opposed their going; but they saw I was desirous of their + absence; and when they had withdrawn, I once more threw myself at her + feet, and acknowledged my offences; implored her forgiveness for this one + time, and promised the most exact circumspection for the future. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for her she said to keep her memory and forgive me. What + hadst thou seen in the conduct of Clarissa Harlowe, that should encourage + such an insult upon her as thou didst dare to make? How meanly must thou + think of her, that thou couldst presume to be so guilty, and expect her to + be so weak as to forgive thee? + </p> + <p> + I besought her to let me read over to her Captain Tomlinson's letter. I + was sure it was impossible she could have given it the requisite + attention. + </p> + <p> + I have given it the requisite attention, said she; and the other letters + too. So that what I say is upon deliberation. And what have I to fear from + my brother and sister? They can but complete the ruin of my fortunes with + my father and uncles. Let them and welcome. You, Sir, I thank you, have + lowered my fortunes; but, I bless God, that my mind is not sunk with my + fortunes. It is, on the contrary, raised above fortune, and above you; and + for half a word they shall have the estate they envied me for, and an + acquittal from me of all the expectations from my family that may make + them uneasy. + </p> + <p> + I lifted up my hands and eyes in silent admiration of her. + </p> + <p> + My brother, Sir, may think me ruined; to the praise of your character, he + may think it impossible to be with you and be innocent. You have but too + well justified their harshest censures by every part of your conduct. But + now that I have escaped from you, and that I am out of the reach of your + mysterious devices, I will wrap myself up in mine own innocence, [and then + the passionate beauty folded her arms about herself,] and leave to time, + and to my future circumspection, the re-establishment of my character. + Leave me then, Sir, pursue me not!— + </p> + <p> + Good Heaven! [interrupting her]—and all this, for what?—Had I + not yielded to your entreaties, (forgive me, Madam,) you could not have + carried farther your resentments— + </p> + <p> + Wretch! Was it not crime enough to give occasion for those entreaties? + Wouldst thou make a merit to me, that thou didst not utterly ruin her whom + thou oughtest to have protected? Begone, man! (turning from me, her face + crimsoned over with passion.)—See me no more!—I cannot bear + thee in my sight!— + </p> + <p> + Dearest, dearest creature! + </p> + <p> + If I forgive thee, Lovelace—And there she stopped.—To + endeavour, proceeded she, to endeavour by premeditation, by low + contrivances, by cries of Fire! to terrify a poor creature who had + consented to take a wretched chance with thee for life! + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake,—offering to take her repulsing hand, as she was + flying from me towards the closet. + </p> + <p> + What hast thou to do to plead for the sake of Heaven in thy favour!—O + darkest of human minds! + </p> + <p> + Then turning from me, wiping her eyes, and again turning towards me, but + her sweet face half aside, What difficulties hast thou involved me in! + That thou hadst a plain path before thee, after thou hadst betrayed me + into thy power.—At once my mind takes in the whole of thy crooked + behaviour; and if thou thinkest of Clarissa Harlowe as her proud heart + tells her thou oughtest to think of her, thou wilt seek thy fortunes + elsewhere. How often hast thou provoked me to tell thee, that my soul is + above thee! + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake, Madam, for a soul's sake, which it is in your power to + save from perdition, forgive me the past offence. I am the greatest + villain on earth if it was a premeditated one; yet I presume not to excuse + myself. On your mercy I throw myself. I will not offer at any plea but + that of penitence. See but Captain Tomlinson.—See but Lady Betty and + my cousin; let them plead for me; let them be guarantees for my honour. + </p> + <p> + If Captain Tomlinson come while I stay here, I may see him; but as for + you, Sir— + </p> + <p> + Dearest creature! let me beg of you not to aggravate my offence to the + Captain when he comes. Let me beg of you— + </p> + <p> + What askest thou? It is not that I shall be of party against myself? That + I shall palliate— + </p> + <p> + Do not charge me, Madam, interrupted I, with villainous premeditation! + —Do not give such a construction to my offence as may weaken your + uncle's opinion—as may strengthen your brother's— + </p> + <p> + She flung from me to the further end of the room, [she could go no + further,] and just then Mrs. Moore came up, and told her that dinner was + ready, and that she had prevailed upon Miss Rawlins to give her her + company. + </p> + <p> + You must excuse me, Mrs. Moore, said she. Miss Rawlins I hope also will + —but I cannot eat—I cannot go down. As for you, Sir, I suppose + you will think it right to depart hence; at least till the gentleman comes + whom you expect. + </p> + <p> + I respectfully withdrew into the next room, that Mrs. Moore might acquaint + her, (I durst not myself,) that I was her lodger and boarder, as, + whisperingly, I desired that she would; and meeting Miss Rawlins in the + passage, Dearest Miss Rawlins, said I, stand my friend; join with Mrs. + Moore to pacify my spouse, if she has any new flights upon my having taken + lodgings, and intending to board here. I hope she will have more + generosity than to think of hindering a gentlewoman from letting her + lodgings. + </p> + <p> + I suppose Mrs. Moore, (whom I left with my fair-one,) had apprized her of + this before Miss Rawlins went in; for I heard her say, while I withheld + Miss Rawlins,—'No, indeed: he is much mistaken—surely he does + not think I will.' + </p> + <p> + They both expostulated with her, as I could gather from bits and scraps of + what they said; for they spoke so low, that I could not hear any distinct + sentence, but from the fair perverse, whose anger made her louder. And to + this purpose I heard her deliver herself in answer to different parts of + their talk to her:—'Good Mrs. Moore, dear Miss Rawlins, press me no + further:—I cannot sit down at table with him!' + </p> + <p> + They said something, as I suppose in my behalf—'O the insinuating + wretch! What defence have I against a man, who, go where I will, can turn + every one, even of the virtuous of my sex, in his favour?' + </p> + <p> + After something else said, which I heard not distinctly—'This is + execrable cunning!—Were you to know his wicked heart, he is not + without hope of engaging you two good persons to second him in the vilest + of his machinations.' + </p> + <p> + How came she, (thought I, at the instant,) by all this penetration? My + devil surely does not play me booty. If I thought he did, I would marry, + and live honest, to be even with him. + </p> + <p> + I suppose then they urged the plea which I hinted to Miss Rawlins at going + in, that she would not be Mrs. Moore's hindrance; for thus she expressed + herself—'He will no doubt pay you your own price. You need not + question his liberality; but one house cannot hold us.—Why, if it + would, did I fly from him, to seek refuge among strangers?' + </p> + <p> + Then, in answer to somewhat else they pleaded—''Tis a mistake, + Madam; I am not reconciled to him, I will believe nothing he says. Has he + not given you a flagrant specimen of what a man he is, and of what his is + capable, by the disguises you saw him in? My story is too long, and my + stay here will be but short; or I could convince you that my resentments + against him are but too well founded.' + </p> + <p> + I suppose that they pleaded for her leave for my dining with them; for she + said—'I have nothing to say to that: it is your own house, Mrs. + Moore—it is your own table—you may admit whom you please to + it, only leave me at my liberty to choose my company.' + </p> + <p> + Then, in answer, as I suppose, to their offer of sending her up a plate— + 'A bit of bread, if you please, and a glass of water; that's all I can + swallow at present. I am really very much discomposed. Saw you not how bad + I was? Indignation only could have supported my spirits!— + </p> + <p> + 'I have no objections to his dining with you, Madam;' added she, in reply, + I suppose, to a farther question of the same nature—'But I will not + stay a night in the same house where he lodges.' + </p> + <p> + I presume Miss Rawlins had told her that she would not stay dinner: for + she said,—'Let me not deprive Mrs. Moore of your company, Miss + Rawlins. You will not be displeased with his talk. He can have no design + upon you.' + </p> + <p> + Then I suppose they pleaded what I might say behind her back, to make my + own story good:—'I care not what he says or what he thinks of me. + Repentance and amendment are all the harm I wish him, whatever becomes of + me!' + </p> + <p> + By her accent she wept when she spoke these last words. + </p> + <p> + They came out both of them wiping their eyes; and would have persuaded me + to relinquish the lodgings, and to depart till her uncle's friend came. + But I knew better. I did not care to trust the Devil, well as she and Miss + Howe suppose me to be acquainted with him, for finding her out again, if + once more she escaped me. + </p> + <p> + What I am most afraid of is, that she will throw herself among her own + relations; and, if she does, I am confident they will not be able to + withstand her affecting eloquence. But yet, as thou'lt see, the Captain's + letter to me is admirably calculated to obviate my apprehensions on this + score; particularly in that passage where it is said, that her uncle + thinks not himself at liberty to correspond directly with her, or to + receive applications from her—but through Captain Tomlinson, as is + strongly implied.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I must own, (notwithstanding the revenge I have so solemnly vowed,) that I + would very fain have made for her a merit with myself in her returning + favour, and have owed as little as possible to the mediation of Captain + Tomlinson. My pride was concerned in this: and this was one of my reasons + for not bringing him with me.—Another was, that, if I were obliged + to have recourse to his assistance, I should be better able, (by visiting + without him,) to direct him what to say or do, as I should find out the + turn of her humour. + </p> + <p> + I was, however, glad at my heart that Mrs. Moore came up so seasonably + with notice that dinner was ready. The fair fugitive was all in all. She + had the excuse for withdrawing, I had time to strengthen myself; the + Captain had time to come; and the lady to cool.—Shakspeare advises + well: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oppose not rage, whilst rage is in its force; + But give it way awhile, and let it waste. + The rising deluge is not stopt with dams; + Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hope of harvest. + But, wisely manag'd, its divided strength + Is sluic'd in channels, and securely drain'd: + And when its force is spent, and unsupply'd, + The residue with mounds may be restrain'd, + And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford. +</pre> + <p> + I went down with the women to dinner. Mrs. Moore sent her fair boarder up + a plate, but she only ate a little bit of bread, and drank a glass of + water. I doubted not but she would keep her word, when it was once gone + out. Is she not an Harlowe? She seems to be enuring herself to hardships, + which at the worst she can never know; since, though she should ultimately + refuse to be obliged to me, or (to express myself more suitable to my own + heart,) to oblige me, every one who sees her must befriend her. + </p> + <p> + But let me ask thee, Belford, Art thou not solicitous for me in relation + to the contents of the letter which the angry beauty had written and + dispatched away by man and horse; and for what may be Miss Howe's answer + to it? Art thou not ready to inquire, Whether it be not likely that Miss + Howe, when she knows of her saucy friend's flight, will be concerned about + her letter, which she must know could not be at Wilson's till after that + flight, and so, probably, would fall into my hands?— + </p> + <p> + All these things, as thou'lt see in the sequel, are provided for with as + much contrivance as human foresight can admit. + </p> + <p> + I have already told thee that Will. is upon the lookout for old Grimes— + old Grimes is, it seems, a gossiping, sottish rascal; and if Will. can but + light of him, I'll answer for the consequence; For has not Will. been my + servant upwards of seven years? + </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 XXVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + We had at dinner, besides Miss Rawlins, a young widow-niece of Mrs. Moore, + who is come to stay a month with her aunt—Bevis her name; very + forward, very lively, and a great admirer of me, I assure you;—hanging + smirkingly upon all I said; and prepared to approve of every word before I + spoke: and who, by the time we had half-dined, (by the help of what she + had collected before,) was as much acquainted with our story as either of + the other two. + </p> + <p> + As it behoved me to prepare them in my favour against whatever might come + from Miss Howe, I improved upon the hint I had thrown out above-stairs + against that mischief-making lady. I represented her to be an arrogant + creature, revengeful, artful, enterprising, and one who, had she been a + man, would have sworn and cursed, and committed rapes, and played the + devil, as far as I knew: [I have no doubt of it, Jack!] but who, by + advantage of a female education, and pride and insolence, I believed was + personally virtuous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bevis allowed, that there was a vast deal in education—and in + pride too, she said. While Miss Rawlins came with a prudish God forbid + that virtue should be owing to education only! However, I declared that + Miss Howe was a subtle contriver of mischief; one who had always been my + enemy: her motives I knew not: but despised the man whom her mother was + desirous she should have, one Hickman; although I did not directly aver + that she would rather have had me; yet they all immediately imagined that + that was the ground of her animosity to me, and of her envy to my beloved: + and it was pity, they said, that so fine a young lady did not see through + such a pretended friend. + </p> + <p> + And yet nobody [added I] has more reason than she to know by experience + the force of a hatred founded in envy; as I hinted to you above, Mrs. + Moore, and to you, Miss Rawlins, in the case of her sister Arabella. + </p> + <p> + I had compliments made to my person and talents on this occasion: which + gave me a singular opportunity of displaying my modesty, by disclaiming + the merit of them, with a No, indeed!—I should be very vain, Ladies, + if I thought so. While thus abusing myself, and exalting Miss Howe, I got + their opinion both for modesty and generosity; and had all the graces + which I disclaimed thrown in upon me besides. + </p> + <p> + In short, they even oppressed that modesty, which (to speak modestly of + myself) their praises created, by disbelieving all I said against myself. + </p> + <p> + And, truly, I must needs say, they have almost persuaded even me myself, + that Miss Howe is actually in love with me. I have often been willing to + hope this. And who knows but she may? The Captain and I have agreed, that + it shall be so insinuated occasionally—And what's thy opinion, Jack? + She certainly hates Hickman; and girls who are disengaged seldom hate, + though they may not love: and if she had rather have another, why not that + other ME? For am I not a smart fellow, and a rake? And do not your + sprightly ladies love your smart fellow, and your rakes? And where is the + wonder, that the man who could engage the affections of Miss Harlowe, + should engage those of a lady (with her* alas's) who would be honoured in + being deemed her second? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume, where Miss Howe says, Alas! my dear, I + know you loved him! + </p> + <p> + Nor accuse thou me of SINGULAR vanity in this presumption, Belford. Wert + thou to know the secret vanity that lurks in the hearts of those who + disguise or cloke it best, thou wouldst find great reason to acquit, at + least, to allow for me: since it is generally the conscious over-fulness + of conceit, that makes the hypocrite most upon his guard to conceal it. + Yet with these fellows, proudly humble as they are, it will break out + sometimes in spite of their clokes, though but in self-denying, + compliment-begging self-degradation. + </p> + <p> + But now I have undervalued myself, in apologizing to thee on this + occasion, let me use another argument in favour of my observation, that + the ladies generally prefer a rake to a sober man; and of my presumption + upon it, that Miss Howe is in love with me: it is this: common fame says, + That Hickman is a very virtuous, a very innocent fellow—a + male-virgin, I warrant!—An odd dog I always thought him. Now women, + Jack, like not novices. Two maidenheads meeting together in wedlock, the + first child must be a fool, is their common aphorism. They are pleased + with a love of the sex that is founded in the knowledge of it. Reason + good; novices expect more than they can possibly find in the commerce with + them. The man who knows them, yet has ardours for them, to borrow a word + from Miss Howe,* though those ardours are generally owing more to the + devil within him, than to the witch without him, is the man who makes them + the highest and most grateful compliment. He knows what to expect, and + with what to be satisfied. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letters XXIX. and XXXIV. + </p> + <p> + Then the merit of a woman, in some cases, must be ignorance, whether real + or pretended. The man, in these cases, must be an adept. Will it then be + wondered at, that a woman prefers a libertine to a novice?—While she + expects in the one the confidence she wants, she considers the other and + herself as two parallel lines, which, though they run side by side, can + never meet. + </p> + <p> + Yet in this the sex is generally mistaken too; for these sheepish fellows + are sly. I myself was modest once; and this, as I have elsewhere hinted to + thee,* has better enabled me to judge of both sexes. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXIII. + </p> + <p> + But to proceed with my narrative: + </p> + <p> + Having thus prepared every one against any letter should come from Miss + Howe, and against my beloved's messenger returns, I thought it proper to + conclude that subject with a hint, that my spouse could not bear to have + any thing said that reflected upon Miss Howe; and, with a deep sigh, + added, that I had been made very unhappy more than once by the ill-will of + ladies whom I had never offended. + </p> + <p> + The widow Bevis believed that might very easily be. Will. both without and + within, [for I intend he shall fall in love with widow Moore's maid, and + have saved one hundred pounds in my service, at least,] will be great + helps, as things may happen. + </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 XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + We had hardly dined, when my coachman, who kept a look-out for Captain + Tomlinson, as Will. did for old Grimes, conducted hither that worthy + gentleman, attended by one servant, both on horseback. He alighted. I went + out to meet him at the door. + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest his solemn appearance, and unblushing freedom; and yet canst + not imagine what a dignity the rascal assumed, nor how respectful to him I + was. + </p> + <p> + I led him into the parlour, and presented him to the women, and them to + him. I thought it highly imported me (as they might still have some + diffidences about our marriage, from my fair-one's home-pushed questions + on that head) to convince them entirely of the truth of all I had + asserted. And how could I do this better, than by dialoguing a little with + him before them? + </p> + <p> + Dear Captain, I thought you long; for I have had a terrible conflict with + my spouse. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I am sorry that I am later than my intention—my account with + my banker—[There's a dog, Jack!] took me up longer time to adjust + than I had foreseen [all the time pulling down and stroking his ruffles]: + for there was a small difference between us—only twenty pounds, + indeed, which I had taken no account of. + </p> + <p> + The rascal has not seen twenty pounds of his own these ten years. + </p> + <p> + Then had we between us the character of the Harlowe family; I railed + against them all; the Captain taking his dear friend Mr. John Harlowe's + part; with a Not so fast!—not so fast, young gentleman!—and + the like free assumptions. + </p> + <p> + He accounted for their animosity by my defiances: no good family, having + such a charming daughter, would care to be defied, instead of courted: he + must speak his mind: never was a double-tongued man.—He appealed to + the ladies, if he were not right? + </p> + <p> + He got them on his side. + </p> + <p> + The correction I had given the brother, he told me, must have aggravated + matters. + </p> + <p> + How valiant this made me look to the women!—The sex love us mettled + fellows at their hearts. + </p> + <p> + Be that as it would, I should never love any of the family but my spouse; + and wanting nothing from them, I would not, but for her sake, have gone so + far as I had gone towards a reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + This was very good of me; Mrs. Moore said. + </p> + <p> + Very good indeed; Miss Rawlins. + </p> + <p> + Good;—It is more than good; it is very generous; said the widow. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Why so it is, I must needs say: for I am sensible that Mr. Lovelace + has been rudely treated by them all—more rudely, than it could have + been imagined a man of his quality and spirit would have put up with. But + then, Sir, [turning to me,] I think you are amply rewarded in such a lady; + and that you ought to forgive the father for the daughter's sake. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore. Indeed so I think. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. So must every one think who has seen the lady. + </p> + <p> + Widow B. A fine lady, to be sure! But she has a violent spirit; and some + very odd humours too, by what I have heard. The value of good husbands is + not known till they are lost! + </p> + <p> + Her conscience then drew a sigh from her. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Nobody must reflect upon my angel!—An angel she is—some + little blemishes, indeed, as to her over-hasty spirit, and as to her + unforgiving temper. But this she has from the Harlowes; instigated too by + that Miss Howe.—But her innumerable excellencies are all her own. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Ay, talk of spirit, there's a spirit, now you have named Miss Howe! + [And so I led him to confirm all I had said of that vixen.] Yet she was to + be pitied too; looking with meaning at me. + </p> + <p> + As I have already hinted, I had before agreed with him to impute secret + love occasionally to Miss Howe, as the best means to invalidate all that + might come from her in my disfavour. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Mr. Lovelace, but that I know your modesty, or you could give a + reason— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Looking down, and very modest—I can't think so, Captain—but + let us call another cause. + </p> + <p> + Every woman present could look me in the face, so bashful was I. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Well, but as to our present situation—only it mayn't be proper— + looking upon me, and round upon the women. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. O Captain, you may say any thing before this company—only, + Andrew, [to my new servant, who attended us at table,] do you withdraw: + this good girl [looking at the maid-servant] will help us to all we want. + </p> + <p> + Away went Andrew: he wanted not his cue; and the maid seemed pleased at my + honour's preference of her. + </p> + <p> + Capt. As to our present situation, I say, Mr. Lovelace—why, Sir, we + shall be all untwisted, let me tell you, if my friend Mr. John Harlowe + were to know what that is. He would as much question the truth of your + being married, as the rest of the family do. + </p> + <p> + Here the women perked up their ears; and were all silent attention. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I asked you before for particulars, Mr. Lovelace; but you declined + giving them.—Indeed it may not be proper for me to be acquainted + with them.—But I must own, that it is past my comprehension, that a + wife can resent any thing a husband can do (that is not a breach of the + peace) so far as to think herself justified for eloping from him. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Captain Tomlinson:—Sir—I do assure you, that I shall be + offended—I shall be extremely concerned—if I hear that word + eloping mentioned again— + </p> + <p> + Capt. Your nicety and your love, Sir, may make you take offence—but + it is my way to call every thing by its proper name, let who will be + offended— + </p> + <p> + Thou canst not imagine, Belford, how brave and how independent the rascal + looked. + </p> + <p> + Capt. When, young gentleman, you shall think proper to give us + particulars, we will find a word for this rash act in so admirable a lady, + that shall please you better.—You see, Sir, that being the + representative of my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe, I speak as freely as I + suppose he would do, if present. But you blush, Sir—I beg your + pardon, Mr. Lovelace: it becomes not a modest man to pry into those + secrets, which a modest man cannot reveal. + </p> + <p> + I did not blush, Jack; but denied not the compliment, and looked down: the + women seemed delighted with my modesty: but the widow Bevis was more + inclined to laugh at me than praise me for it. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Whatever be the cause of this step, (I will not again, Sir, call it + elopement, since that harsh word wounds your tenderness,) I cannot but + express my surprise upon it, when I recollect the affectionate behaviour, + to which I was witness between you, when I attended you last. Over-love, + Sir, I think you once mention—but over-love [smiling] give me leave + to say, Sir, it is an odd cause of quarrel—few ladies— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Dear Captain!—And I tried to blush. + </p> + <p> + The women also tried; and being more used to it, succeeded better.—Mrs. + Bevis indeed has a red-hot countenance, and always blushes. + </p> + <p> + Miss R. It signifies nothing to mince the matter: but the lady above as + good as denies her marriage. You know, Sir, that she does; turning to me. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Denies her marriage! Heavens! how then have I imposed upon my dear + friend Mr. John Harlowe! + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Poor dear!—But let not her veracity be called into question. + She would not be guilty of a wilful untruth for the world. + </p> + <p> + Then I had all their praises again. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Dear creature!—She thinks she has reason for her denial. You + know, Mrs. Moore; you know, Miss Rawlins; what I owned to you above as my + vow. + </p> + <p> + I looked down, and, as once before, turned round my diamond ring. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore looked awry, and with a leer at Miss Rawlins, as to her partner + in the hinted-at reference. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins looked down as well as I; her eyelids half closed, as if + mumbling a pater-noster, meditating her snuff-box, the distance between + her nose and chin lengthened by a close-shut mouth. + </p> + <p> + She put me in mind of the pious Mrs. Fetherstone at Oxford, whom I pointed + out to thee once, among other grotesque figures, at St. Mary's church, + whither we went to take a view of her two sisters: her eyes shut, not + daring to trust her heart with them open; and but just half-rearing her + lids, to see who the next comer was; and falling them again, when her + curiosity was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + The widow Bevis gazed, as if on the hunt for a secret. + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked archly, as if half in the possession of one. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore at last broke the bashful silence. Mrs. Lovelace's behaviour, + she said, could be no otherwise so well accounted for, as by the ill + offices of that Miss Howe; and by the severity of her relations; which + might but too probably have affected her head a little at times: adding, + that it was very generous in me to give way to the storm when it was up, + rather than to exasperate at such a time. + </p> + <p> + But let me tell you, Sirs, said the widow Bevis, that is not what one + husband in a thousand would have done. + </p> + <p> + I desired, that no part of this conversation might be hinted to my spouse; + and looked still more bashfully. Her great fault, I must own, was + over-delicacy. + </p> + <p> + The Captain leered round him; and said, he believed he could guess from + the hints I had given him in town (of my over-love) and from what had now + passed, that we had not consummated our marriage. + </p> + <p> + O Jack! how sheepishly then looked, or endeavoured to look, thy friend! + how primly goody Moore! how affectedly Miss Rawlins!—while the + honest widow Bevis gazed around her fearless; and though only simpering + with her mouth, her eyes laughed outright, and seemed to challenge a laugh + from every eye in the company. + </p> + <p> + He observed, that I was a phoenix of a man, if so; and he could not but + hope that all matters would be happily accommodated in a day or two; and + that then he should have the pleasure to aver to her uncle, that he was + present, as he might say, on our wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + The women seemed all to join in the same hope. + </p> + <p> + Ah, Captain! Ah, Ladies! how happy should I be, if I could bring my dear + spouse to be of the same mind! + </p> + <p> + It would be a very happy conclusion of a very knotty affair, said the + widow Bevis; and I see not why we may not make this very night a merry + one. + </p> + <p> + The Captain superciliously smiled at me. He saw plainly enough, he said, + that we had been at children's play hitherto. A man of my character, who + could give way to such a caprice as this, must have a prodigious value for + his lady. But one thing he would venture to tell me; and that was this—that, + however desirous young skittish ladies might be to have their way in this + particular, it was a very bad setting-out for the man; as it gave his + bride a very high proof of the power she had over him: and he would + engage, that no woman, thus humoured, ever valued the man the more for it; + but very much the contrary—and there were reasons to be given why + she should not. + </p> + <p> + Well, well, Captain, no more of this subject before the ladies.—One + feels [shrugging my shoulders in a bashful try-to-blush manner] that one + is so ridiculous—I have been punished enough for my tender folly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins had taken her fan, and would needs hide her face behind it— + I suppose because her blush was not quite ready. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore hemmed, and looked down; and by that gave her's over. + </p> + <p> + While the jolly widow, laughing out, praised the Captain as one of + Hudibras's metaphysicians, repeating, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He knew what's what, and that's as high + As metaphysic wit can fly. +</pre> + <p> + This made Miss Rawlins blush indeed:—Fie, fie, Mrs. Bevis! cried + she, unwilling, I suppose, to be thought absolutely ignorant. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, I began to think that I had not made a bad exchange of our + professing mother, for the unprofessing Mrs. Moore. And indeed the women + and I, and my beloved too, all mean the same thing: we only differ about + the manner of coming at the proposed end. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + It was now high time to acquaint my spouse, that Captain Tomlinson was + come. And the rather, as the maid told us, that the lady had asked her if + such a gentleman [describing him] was not in the parlour? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore went up, and requested, in my name, that she would give us + audience. + </p> + <p> + But she returned, reporting my beloved's desire, that Captain Tomlinson + would excuse her for the present. She was very ill. Her spirits were too + weak to enter into conversation with him; and she must lie down. + </p> + <p> + I was vexed, and at first extremely disconcerted. The Captain was vexed + too. And my concern, thou mayest believe, was the greater on his account. + </p> + <p> + She had been very much fatigued, I own. Her fits in the morning must have + disordered her: and she had carried her resentment so high, that it was + the less wonder she should find herself low, when her raised spirits had + subsided. Very low, I may say; if sinkings are proportioned to risings; + for she had been lifted up above the standard of a common mortal. + </p> + <p> + The Captain, however, sent up his own name, that if he could be admitted + to drink one dish of tea with her, he should take it for a favour: and + would go to town, and dispatch some necessary business, in order, if + possible, to leave his morning free to attend her. + </p> + <p> + But she pleaded a violent head-ache; and Mrs. Moore confirmed the plea to + be just. + </p> + <p> + I would have had the Captain lodge there that night, as well in compliment + to him, as introductory to my intention of entering myself upon my + new-taken apartment: but his hours were of too much importance to him to + stay the evening. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed very inconvenient for him, he said, to return in the + morning; but he is willing to do all in his power to heal this breach, and + that as well for the sakes of me and my lady, as for that of his dear + friend Mr. John Harlowe; who must not know how far this misunderstanding + had gone. He would therefore only drink one dish of tea with the ladies + and me. + </p> + <p> + And accordingly, after he had done so, and I had had a little private + conversation with him, he hurried away. + </p> + <p> + His fellow had given him, in the interim, a high character to Mrs. Moore's + servants: and this reported by the widow Bevis (who being no proud woman, + is hail fellow well met, as the saying is, with all her aunt's servants) + he was a fine gentleman, a discreet gentleman, a man of sense and + breeding, with them all: and it was pity, that, with such great business + upon his hands, he should be obliged to come again. + </p> + <p> + My life for your's, audibly whispered the widow Bevis, there is humour as + well as head-ache in somebody's declining to see this worthy gentleman.— + Ah, Lord! how happy might some people be if they would! + </p> + <p> + No perfect happiness in this world, said I, very gravely, and with a sigh; + for the widow must know that I heard her. If we have not real unhappiness, + we can make it, even from the overflowings of our good fortune. + </p> + <p> + Very true, and very true, the two widows. A charming observation! Mrs. + Bevis. Miss Rawlins smiled her assent to it; and I thought she called me + in her heart charming man! for she professes to be a great admirer of + moral observations. + </p> + <p> + I had hardly taken leave of the Captain, and sat down again with the + women, when Will. came; and calling me out, 'Sir, Sir,' said he, grinning + with a familiarity in his looks as if what he had to say entitled him to + take liberties; 'I have got the fellow down!—I have got old Grimes—hah, + hah, hah, hah!—He is at the Lower Flask—almost in the + condition of David's sow, and please your honour—[the dog himself + not much better] here is his letter—from—from Miss Howe—ha, + ha, ha, ha,' laughed the varlet; holding it fast, as if to make conditions + with me, and to excite my praises, as well as my impatience. + </p> + <p> + I could have knocked him down; but he would have his say out—'old + Grimes knows not that I have the letter—I must get back to him + before he misses it—I only make a pretence to go out for a few + minutes—but—but'—and then the dog laughed again—'he + must stay—old Grimes must stay—till I go back to pay the + reckoning.' + </p> + <p> + D—n the prater; grinning rascal! The letter! The letter! + </p> + <p> + He gathered in his wide mothe, as he calls it, and gave me the letter; but + with a strut, rather than a bow; and then sidled off like one of widow + Sorlings's dunghill cocks, exulting after a great feat performed. And all + the time that I was holding up the billet to the light, to try to get at + its contents without breaking the seal, [for, dispatched in a hurry, it + had no cover,] there stood he, laughing, shrugging, playing off his legs; + now stroking his shining chin, now turning his hat upon his thumb! then + leering in my face, flourishing with his head—O Christ! now-and-then + cried the rascal— + </p> + <p> + What joy has this dog in mischief!—More than I can have in the + completion of my most favourite purposes!—These fellows are ever + happier than their masters. + </p> + <p> + I was once thinking to rumple up this billet till I had broken the seal. + Young families [Miss Howe's is not an ancient one] love ostentatious + sealings: and it might have been supposed to have been squeezed in pieces + in old Grimes's breeches-pocket. But I was glad to be saved the guilt as + well as suspicion of having a hand in so dirty a trick; for thus much of + the contents (enough for my purpose) I was enabled to scratch out in + character without it; the folds depriving me only of a few connecting + words, which I have supplied between hooks. + </p> + <p> + My Miss Harlowe, thou knowest, had before changed her name to Miss + Laetitia Beaumont. Another alias now, Jack, to it; for this billet was + directed to her by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas. I have learned her to + be half a rogue, thou seest. + </p> + <p> + 'I congratulate you, my dear, with all my heart and soul, upon [your + escape] from the villain. [I long] for the particulars of all. [My mother] + is out; but, expecting her return every minute, I dispatched [your] + messenger instantly. [I will endeavour to come at] Mrs. Townsend without + loss of time; and will write at large in a day or two, if in that time I + can see her. [Mean time I] am excessively uneasy for a letter I sent you + yesterday by Collins, [who must have left it at] Wilson's after you got + away. [It is of very] great importance. [I hope the] villain has it not. I + would not for the world [that he should.] Immediately send for it, if, by + doing so, the place you are at [will not be] discovered. If he has it, let + me know it by some way [out of] hand. If not, you need not send. + </p> + <p> + 'Ever, ever your's, 'A.H. 'June 9.' + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + O Jack! what heart's-ease does this interception give me!—I sent the + rascal back with the letter to old Grimes, and charged him to drink no + deeper. He owned, that he was half-seas over, as he phrased it. + </p> + <p> + Dog! said I, are you not to court one of Mrs. Moore's maids to-night?— + </p> + <p> + Cry your mercy, Sir!—I will be sober.—I had forgot that—but + old Grimes is plaguy tough, I thought I should never have got him down. + </p> + <p> + Away, villain! Let old Grimes come, and on horseback too, to the door— + </p> + <p> + He shall, and please your honour, if I can get him on the saddle, and if + he can sit— + </p> + <p> + And charge him not to have alighted, nor to have seen any body— + </p> + <p> + Enough, Sir, familiarly nodding his head, to show he took me. And away + went the villain—into the parlour, to the women, I. + </p> + <p> + In a quarter of an hour came old Grimes on horseback, waving to his + saddle-bow, now on this side, now on that; his head, at others, joining to + that of his more sober beast. + </p> + <p> + It looked very well to the women that I made no effort to speak to old + Grimes, (though I wished, before them, that I knew the contents of what he + brought;) but, on the contrary, desired that they would instantly let my + spouse know that her messenger was returned. + </p> + <p> + Down she flew, violently as she had the head-ache! + </p> + <p> + O how I prayed for an opportunity to be revenged of her for the ungrateful + trouble she had given to her uncle's friend! + </p> + <p> + She took the letter from old Grimes with her own hands, and retired to an + inner parlour to read it. + </p> + <p> + She presently came out again to the fellow, who had much ado to sit his + horse—Here is your money, friend.—I thought you long: but what + shall I do to get somebody to go to town immediately for me? I see you + cannot. + </p> + <p> + Old Grimes took his money, let fall his hat in doffing it; had it given + him, and rode away; his eyes isinglass, and set in his head, as I saw + through the window, and in a manner speechless—all his language + hiccup. My dog needed not to have gone so deep with this tough old Grimes. + But the rascal was in his kingdom with him. + </p> + <p> + The lady applied to Mrs. Moore; she mattered not the price. Could a man + and horse be engaged for her?—Only to go for a letter left for her, + at one Mr. Wilson's, in Pall-mall. + </p> + <p> + A poor neighbour was hired—a horse procured for him—he had his + directions. + </p> + <p> + In vain did I endeavour to engaged my beloved, when she was below. Her + head-ache, I suppose, returned.—She, like the rest of her sex, can + be ill or well when she pleases. + </p> + <p> + I see her drift, thought I; it is to have all her lights from Miss Howe + before she resolves, and to take her measures accordingly. + </p> + <p> + Up she went expressing great impatience about the letter she had sent for; + and desired Mrs. Moore to let her know if I offered to send any one of my + servants to town—to get at the letter, I suppose, was her fear; but + she might have been quite easy on that head; and yet, perhaps, would not, + had she known that the worthy Captain Tomlinson, (who will be in town + before her messenger,) will leave there the important letter, which I hope + will help to pacify her, and reconcile her to me. + </p> + <p> + O Jack, Jack! thinkest thou that I will take all this roguish pains, and + be so often called villain for nothing? + </p> + <p> + But yet, is it not taking pains to come at the finest creature in the + world, not for a transitory moment only, but for one of our lives! The + struggle only, Whether I am to have her in my own way, or in her's? + </p> + <p> + But now I know thou wilt be frightened out of thy wits for me—What, + Lovelace! wouldest thou let her have a letter that will inevitably blow + thee up; and blow up the mother, and all her nymphs!—yet not intend + to reform, nor intend to marry? + </p> + <p> + Patience, puppy!—Canst thou not trust thy master? + </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> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + I went up to my new-taken apartment, and fell to writing in character, as + usual. I thought I had made good my quarters, but the cruel creature, + understanding that I intended to take up my lodgings there, declared with + so much violence against it, that I was obliged to submit, and to accept + of another lodging, about twelve doors off, which Mrs. Moore recommended. + And all the advantage I could obtain was, that Will., unknown to my + spouse, and for fear of a freak, should lie in the house. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore, indeed, was unwilling to disoblige either of us. But Miss + Rawlins was of opinion, that nothing more ought to be allowed me: and yet + Mrs. Moore owned, that the refusal was a strange piece of tyranny to a + husband, if I were a husband. + </p> + <p> + I had a good mind to make Miss Rawlins smart for it. Come and see Miss + Rawlins, Jack.—If thou likest her, I'll get her for thee with a + wet-finger, as the saying is! + </p> + <p> + The widow Bevis indeed stickled hard for me. [An innocent, or injured man, + will have friends every where.] She said, that to bear much with some + wives, was to be obliged to bear more; and I reflected, with a sigh, that + tame spirits must always be imposed upon. And then, in my heart, I renewed + my vows of revenge upon this haughty and perverse beauty. + </p> + <p> + The second fellow came back from town about nine o'clock, with Miss Howe's + letter of Wednesday last. 'Collins, it seems, when he left it, had + desired, that it might be safely and speedily delivered into Miss Laetitia + Beaumont's own hands. But Wilson, understanding that neither she nor I + were in town, [he could not know of our difference thou must think,] + resolved to take care of it till our return, in order to give it into one + of our own hands; and now delivered it to her messenger.' + </p> + <p> + This was told her. Wilson, I doubt not, is in her favour upon it. + </p> + <p> + She took the letter with great eagerness; opened it in a hurry, [am glad + she did; yet, I believe, all was right,] before Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Bevis, + [Miss Rawlins was gone home;] and said, she would not for the world that I + should have had that letter, for the sake of her dear friend the writer, + who had written to her very uneasily about it. + </p> + <p> + Her dear friend! repeated Mrs. Bevis, when she told me this:—such + mischief-makers are always deemed dear friends till they are found out! + </p> + <p> + The widow says that I am the finest gentleman she ever beheld. + </p> + <p> + I have found a warm kiss now-and-then very kindly taken. + </p> + <p> + I might be a very wicked fellow, Jack, if I were to do all the mischief in + my power. But I am evermore for quitting a too-easy prey to reptile rakes! + What but difficulty, (though the lady is an angel,) engages me to so much + perseverance here?—And here, conquer or die! is now the + determination! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I have just now parted with this honest widow. She called upon me at my + new lodgings. I told her, that I saw I must be further obliged to her in + the course of this difficult affair. She must allow me to make her a + handsome present when all was happily over. But I desired that she would + take no notice of what should pass between us, not even to her aunt; for + that she, as I saw, was in the power of Miss Rawlins: and Miss Rawlins, + being a maiden gentlewoman, knew not the right and the fit in matrimonial + matters, as she, my dear widow, did. + </p> + <p> + Very true: How should she? said Mrs. Bevis, proud of knowing—nothing! + But, for her part, she desired no present. It was enough if she could + contribute to reconcile man and wife, and disappoint mischief-makers. She + doubted not, that such an envious creature as Miss Howe was glad that Mrs. + Lovelace had eloped—jealousy and love was Old Nick! + </p> + <p> + See, Belford, how charmingly things work between me and my new + acquaintance, the widow!—Who knows, but that she may, after a little + farther intimacy, (though I am banished the house on nights,) contrive a + midnight visit for me to my spouse, when all is still and fast asleep? + </p> + <p> + Where can a woman be safe, who has once entered the lists with a + contriving and intrepid lover? + </p> + <p> + But as to this letter, methinkest thou sayest, of Miss Howe? + </p> + <p> + I knew thou wouldest be uneasy for me. But did not I tell thee that I had + provided for every thing? That I always took care to keep seals entire, + and to preserve covers?* Was it not easy then, thinkest thou, to contrive + a shorter letter out of a longer; and to copy the very words? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I can tell thee, it was so well ordered, that, not being suspected to have + been in my hands, it was not easy to find me out. Had it been my beloved's + hand, there would have been no imitating it for such a length. Her + delicate and even mind is seen in the very cut of her letters. Miss Howe's + hand is no bad one, but it is not so equal and regular. That little + devil's natural impatience hurrying on her fingers, gave, I suppose, from + the beginning, her handwriting, as well as the rest of her, its fits and + starts, and those peculiarities, which, like strong muscular lines in a + face, neither the pen, nor the pencil, can miss. + </p> + <p> + Hast thou a mind tot see what it was I permitted Miss Howe to write to her + lovely friend? Why then, read it here, so extracted from her's of + Wednesday last, with a few additions of my own. The additions + underscored.* + </p> + <p> + * Editor's note: In place of italics, as in the original, I have + substituted hooks [ ]. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST FRIEND, + </p> + <p> + You will perhaps think that I have been too long silent. But I had begun + two letters at different times since my last, and written a great deal + each time; and with spirit enough I assure you; incensed as I was against + the abominable wretch you are with; particularly on reading your's of the + 21st of the past month. + </p> + <p> + The FIRST I intended to keep open till I could give you some account of my + proceedings with Mrs. Townsend. It was some days before I saw her: and + this intervenient space giving me time to reperuse what I had written, I + thought it proper to lay that aside, and to write in a style a little less + fervent; for you would have blamed me, I knew, for the freedom of some of + my expressions, (execrations, if you please.) And when I had gone a good + way in the SECOND, and change your prospects, on his communicating to you + Miss Montague's letter, and his better behaviour, occasioning a change in + your mind, I laid that aside also. And in this uncertainty thought I would + wait to see the issue of affairs between you before I wrote again; + believing that all would soon be decided one way or other. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + [Here I was forced to break off. I am too little my own mistress:—My + mother* is always up and down—and watching as if I were writing to a + fellow. What need I (she asks me,) lock myself in,** if I am only reading + past correspondencies? For that is my pretence, when she comes poking in + with her face sharpened to an edge, as I may say, by a curiosity that + gives her more pain than pleasure.—The Lord forgive me; but I + believe I shall huff her next time she comes in.] + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. ** Ibid. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Do you forgive me too, my dear—my mother ought; because she says I + am my father's girl; and because I am sure I am her's. + </p> + <p> + [Upon my life, my dear, I am sometimes of opinion, that this vile man was + capable of meaning you dishonour. When I look back upon his past conduct, + I cannot help, and verily believe, that he has laid aside such thoughts. + My reasons for both opinions I will give you.] + </p> + <p> + [For the first: to-wit, that he had it once in his head to take you at + advantage if he could, I consider* that] pride, revenge, and a delight to + tread in unbeaten paths, are principal ingredients in the character of + this finished libertine. He hates all your family, yourself excepted— + yet is a savage in love. His pride, and the credit which a few plausible + qualities, sprinkled among his odious ones, have given him, have secured + him too good a reception from our eye-judging, our undistinguishing, our + self—flattering, our too-confiding sex, to make assiduity and + obsequiousness, and a conquest of his unruly passions, any part of his + study. + </p> + <p> + He has some reason for his animosity to all the men, and to one woman of + your family. He has always shown you, and his own family too, that he + prefers his pride to his interest. He is a declared marriage-hater; a + notorious intriguer; full of his inventions, and glorying in them.—As + his vanity had made him imagine that no woman could be proof against his + love, no wonder that he struggled like a lion held in toils,* against a + passion that he thought not returned.** Hence, perhaps, it is not + difficult to believe, that it became possible for such a wretch as this to + give way to his old prejudices against marriage; and to that revenge which + had always been a first passion with him.*** + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. ** Ibid. *** Ibid. + </p> + <p> + [And hence we may account for] his delays—his teasing ways—his + bringing you to bear with his lodging in the same house—his making + you pass to the other people of it as his wife—his bringing you into + the company of his libertine companions—the attempt of imposing upon + you that Miss Partington for a bedfellow, &c. + </p> + <p> + [My reasons for a contrary opinion, to wit, that he is now resolved to do + you all the justice in his power to do you,] are these:—That he sees + that all his own family* have warmly engaged themselves in your cause: + that the horrid wretch loves you; with such a love, however, as Herod + loved his Mariamne: that, on inquiry, I find it to be true, that + Counsellor Williams, (whom Mr. Hickman knows to be a man of eminence in + his profession,) has actually as good as finished the settlements: that + two draughts of them have been made; one avowedly to be sent to this very + Captain Tomlinson:—and I find, that a license has actually been more + than once endeavoured to be obtained, and that difficulties have hitherto + been made, equally to Lovelace's vexation and disappointment. My mother's + proctor, who is very intimate with the proctor applied to by the wretch, + has come at this information in confidence; and hints, that, as Mr. + Lovelace is a man of high fortunes, these difficulties will probably be + got over. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + [I had once resolved to make strict inquiry about Tomlinson; and still, if + you will, your uncle's favourite housekeeper may be sounded at a + distance.] + </p> + <p> + [I know that the matter is so laid,*] that Mrs. Hodges is supposed to know + nothing of the treaty set on foot by means of Captain Tomlinson. But your + uncle is an— + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + But your uncle is an old man;* and old men imagine themselves to be under + obligation to their paramours, if younger than themselves, and seldom keep + any thing from their knowledge.—Yet, methinks, there can be no need; + since Tomlinson, as you describe him, is so good a man, and so much of a + gentleman; the end to be answered by his being an impostor so much more + than necessary, if Lovelace has villany in his head.—And thus what + he communicated to you of Mr. Hickman's application to your uncle, and of + Mrs. Norton's to your mother (some of which particulars I am satisfied his + vile agent Joseph Leman could not reveal to his viler employer); his + pushing on the marriage-day in the name of your uncle; which it could not + answer any wicked purpose for him to do; and what he writes of your + uncle's proposal, to have it thought that you were married from the time + that you had lived in one house together; and that to be made to agree + with the time of Mr. Hickman's visit to your uncle; the insisting on a + trusty person's being present at the ceremony, at that uncle's nomination + —these things make me [assured that he now at last means + honourably.] + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + [But if any unexpected delays should happen on his side, acquaint me, my + dear, with the very street where Mrs. Sinclair lives; and where Mrs. + Fretchville's house is situated (which I cannot find that you have ever + mentioned in your former letters—which is a little odd); and I will + make strict inquiries of them, and of Tomlinson too; and I will (if your + heart will let you take my advice) soon procure you a refuge from him with + Mrs. Townsend.] + </p> + <p> + [But why do I now, when you seem to be in so good a train, puzzle and + perplex you with my retrospections? And yet they may be of use to you, if + any delay happen on his part.] + </p> + <p> + [But that I think cannot well be. What you have therefore now to do, is so + to behave to this proud-spirited wretch, as may banish from his mind all + remembrance of] past disobligations,* and to receive his addresses, as + those of a betrothed lover. You will incur the censure of prudery and + affectation, if you keep him at that distance which you have hitherto + [kept him at.] His sudden (and as suddenly recovered) illness has given + him an opportunity to find out that you love him (Alas! my dear, I knew + you loved him!) He has seemed to change his nature, and is all love and + gentleness. [And no more quarrels now, I beseech you.] + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + [I am very angry with him, nevertheless, for the freedoms which he took + with your person;* and I think some guard is necessary, as he is certainly + an encroacher. But indeed all men are so; and you are such a charming + creature, and have kept him at such a distance!—But no more of this + subject. Only, my dear, be not over-nice, now you are so near the state. + You see what difficulties you laid yourself under,] when Tomlinson's + letter called you again into [the wretch's] company. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + If you meet with no impediments, no new causes of doubt,* your reputation + in the eye of the world is concerned, that you should be his, [and, as + your uncle rightly judges, be thought to have been his before now.] And + yet, [let me tell you,] I [can hardly] bear [to think,] that these + libertines should be rewarded for their villany with the best of the sex, + when the worst of it are too good for them. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I shall send this long letter by Collins,* who changes his day to oblige + me. As none of our letters by Wilson's conveyance have miscarried, when + you have been in more apparently-disagreeable situations than you are in + at present, [I have no doubt] that this will go safe. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lardner* (whom you have seen hat her cousin Biddulph's) saw you at + St. James's church on Sunday was fortnight. She kept you in her eye during + the whole time; but could not once obtain the notice of your's, though she + courtesied to you twice. She thought to pay her compliments to you when + the service was over; for she doubted not but you were married—and + for an odd reason—because you came to church by yourself. Every eye, + (as usual, wherever you are,) she said was upon you; and this seeming to + give you hurry, and you being nearer the door than she, you slid out + before she could get to you. But she ordered her servant to follow you + till you were housed. This servant saw you step into a chair which waited + for you; and you ordered the men to carry you to the place where they took + you up. She [describes the house] as a very genteel house, and fit to + receive people of fashion: [and what makes me mention this, is, that + perhaps you will have a visit from her; or message, at least.] + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + [So that you have Mr. Doleman's testimony to the credit of the house and + people you are with; and he is] a man of fortune, and some reputation; + formerly a rake indeed; but married to a woman of family; and having had a + palsy blow, one would think a penitent.* You have [also Mr. Mennell's at + least passive testimony; Mr.] Tomlinson's; [and now, lastly, Miss + Lardner's; so that there will be the less need for inquiry: but you know + my busy and inquisitive temper, as well as my affection for you, and my + concern for your honour. But all doubt will soon be lost in certainty.] + </p> + <p> + [Nevertheless I must add, that I would have you] command me up, if I can + be of the least service or pleasure to you.* I value not fame; I value not + censure; nor even life itself, I verily think, as I do your honour, and + your friendship—For is not your honour my honour? And is not your + friendship the pride of my life? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + May Heaven preserve you, my dearest creature, in honour and safety, is the + prayer, the hourly prayer, of + </p> + <p> + Your ever-faithful and affectionate, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + THURSDAY MORN. 5. + </p> + <p> + I have written all night. [Excuse indifferent writing; my crow-quills are + worn to the stumps, and I must get a new supply.] + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + These ladies always write with crow-quills, Jack. + </p> + <p> + If thou art capable of taking in all my providences, in this letter, thou + wilt admire my sagacity and contrivance almost as much as I do myself. + Thou seest, that Miss Lardner, Mrs. Sinclair, Tomlinson, Mrs. Fretchville, + Mennell, are all mentioned in it. My first liberties with her person also. + [Modesty, modesty, Belford, I doubt, is more confined to time, place, and + occasion, even by the most delicate minds, than these minds would have it + believed to be.] And why all these taken notice of by me from the genuine + letter, but for fear some future letter from the vixen should escape my + hands, in which she might refer to these names? And, if none of them were + to have been found in this that is to pass for her's, I might be routed + horse and foot, as Lord M. would phrase it in a like case. + </p> + <p> + Devilish hard (and yet I may thank myself) to be put to all this plague + and trouble:—And for what dost thou ask?—O Jack, for a triumph + of more value to me beforehand than an imperial crown!—Don't ask me + the value of it a month hence. But what indeed is an imperial crown itself + when a man is used to it? + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe might well be anxious about the letter she wrote. Her sweet + friend, from what I have let pass of her's, has reason to rejoice in the + thought that it fell not into my hands. + </p> + <p> + And now must all my contrivances be set at work, to intercept the expected + letter from Miss Howe: which is, as I suppose, to direct her to a place of + safety, and out of my knowledge. Mrs. Townsend is, no doubt, in this case, + to smuggle her off: I hope the villain, as I am so frequently called + between these two girls, will be able to manage this point. + </p> + <p> + But what, perhaps, thou askest, if the lady should take it into her head, + by the connivance of Miss Rawlins, to quit this house privately in the + night? + </p> + <p> + I have thought of this, Jack. Does not Will. lie in the house? And is not + the widow Bevis my fast friend? + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SATURDAY, SIX O'CLOCK, JUNE 10. + </p> + <p> + The lady gave Will.'s sweetheart a letter last night to be carried to the + post-house, as this morning, directed for Miss Howe, under cover to + Hickman. I dare say neither cover nor letter will be seen to have been + opened. The contents but eight lines—To own—'The receipt of + her double-dated letter in safety; and referring to a longer letter, which + she intends to write, when she shall have a quieter heart, and less + trembling fingers. But mentions something to have happened [My detecting + her she means] which has given her very great flutters, confusions, and + apprehensions: but which she will wait the issue of [Some hopes for me + hence, Jack!] before she gives her fresh perturbation or concern on her + account.—She tells her how impatient she shall be for her next,' + &c. + </p> + <p> + Now, Belford, I thought it would be but kind in me to save Miss Howe's + concern on these alarming hints; since the curiosity of such a spirit must + have been prodigiously excited by them. Having therefore so good a copy to + imitate, I wrote; and, taking out that of my beloved, put under the same + cover the following short billet; inscriptive and conclusive parts of it + in her own words. + </p> + <p> + HAMPSTEAD, TUES. EVEN. MY EVER-DEAR MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + A few lines only, till calmer spirits and quieter fingers be granted me, + and till I can get over the shock which your intelligence has given me— + to acquaint you—that your kind long letter of Wednesday, and, as I + may say, of Thursday morning, is come safe to my hands. On receipt of + your's by my messenger to you, I sent for it from Wilson's. There, thank + Heaven! it lay. May that Heaven reward you for all your past, and for all + your intended goodness to + </p> + <p> + Your for-ever obliged, CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I took great pains in writing this. It cannot, I hope, be suspected. Her + hand is so very delicate. Yet her's is written less beautifully than she + usually writes: and I hope Miss Howe will allow somewhat for hurry of + spirits, and unsteady fingers. + </p> + <p> + My consideration for Miss Howe's ease of mind extended still farther than + to the instance I have mentioned. + </p> + <p> + That this billet might be with her as soon as possible, (and before it + could have reached Hickman by the post,) I dispatched it away by a servant + of Mowbray's. Miss Howe, had there been any failure or delay, might, as + thou wilt think, have communicated her anxieties to her fugitive friend; + and she to me perhaps in a way I should not have been pleased with. + </p> + <p> + Once more wilt thou wonderingly question—All this pains for a single + girl? + </p> + <p> + Yes, Jack—But is not this girl a CLARISSA?—And who knows, but + kind fortune, as a reward for my perseverance, may toss me in her charming + friend? Less likely things have come to pass, Belford. And to be sure I + shall have her, if I resolve upon it. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. EIGHT O'CLOCK, SAT. MORN. JUNE 10. + </p> + <p> + I am come back from Mrs. Moore's, whither I went in order to attend my + charmer's commands. But no admittance—a very bad night. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless she must be as much concerned that she has carried her + resentments so very far, as I have reason to be that I made such poor use + of the opportunity I had on Wednesday night. + </p> + <p> + But now, Jack, for a brief review of my present situation; and a slight + hint or two of my precautions. + </p> + <p> + I have seen the women this morning, and find them half-right, half- + doubting. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins's brother tells her, that she lives at Mrs. Moore's. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore can do nothing without Miss Rawlins. + </p> + <p> + People who keep lodgings at public places expect to get by every one who + comes into their purlieus. Though not permitted to lodge there myself, I + have engaged all the rooms she has to spare, to the very garrets; and + that, as I have told thee before, for a month certain, and at her own + price, board included; my spouse's and all: but she must not at present + know it. So I hope I have Mrs. Moore fast by the interest. + </p> + <p> + This, devil-like, is suiting temptations to inclinations. + </p> + <p> + I have always observed, and, I believe, I have hinted as much formerly,* + that all dealers, though but for pins, may be taken in by customers for + pins, sooner than by a direct bribe of ten times the value; especially if + pretenders to conscience: for the offer of a bribe would not only give + room for suspicion, but would startle and alarm their scrupulousness; + while a high price paid for what you buy, is but submitting to be cheated + in the method of the person makes a profession to get by. Have I not said + that human nature is a rogue?**—And do not I know that it is? + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XXXIV. ** See Vol. III. Letter XXXV. and Vol. IV. + Letter XXI. + </p> + <p> + To give a higher instance, how many proud senators, in the year 1720, were + induced, by presents or subscription of South-sea stock, to contribute to + a scheme big with national ruin; who yet would have spurned the man who + should have presumed to offer them even twice the sum certain that they + had a chance to gain by the stock?—But to return to my review and to + my precautions. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins fluctuates, as she hears the lady's story, or as she hears + mine. Somewhat of an infidel, I doubt, is this Miss Rawlins. I have not + yet considered her foible. The next time I see her, I will take particular + notice of all the moles and freckles in her mind; and then infer and + apply. + </p> + <p> + The widow Bevis, as I have told thee, is all my own. + </p> + <p> + My man Will. lies in the house. My other new fellow attends upon me; and + cannot therefore be quite stupid. + </p> + <p> + Already is Will. over head and ears in love with one of Mrs. Moore's + maids. He was struck with her the moment he set his eyes upon her. A raw + country wench too. But all women, from the countess to the cook- maid, are + put into high good humour with themselves when a man is taken with them at + first sight. Be they ever so plain [no woman can be ugly, Jack!] they'll + find twenty good reasons, besides the great one (for sake's sake) by the + help of the glass without (and perhaps in spite of it) and conceit within, + to justify the honest fellow's caption. + </p> + <p> + 'The rogue has saved 150£. in my service.'—More by 50 than I bid him + save. No doubt, he thinks he might have done so; though I believe not + worth a groat. 'The best of masters I—passionate, indeed; but soon + appeased.' + </p> + <p> + The wench is extremely kind to him already. The other maid is also very + civil to him. He has a husband for her in his eye. She cannot but say, + that Mr. Andrew, my other servant [the girl is for fixing the person] is a + very well spoken civil young man. + </p> + <p> + 'We common folks have our joys, and please your honour, says honest Joseph + Leman, like as our betters have.'* And true says honest Joseph— did + I prefer ease to difficulty, I should envy these low-born sinners some of + their joys. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XLVII. + </p> + <p> + But if Will. had not made amorous pretensions to the wenches, we all know, + that servants, united in one common compare-note cause, are intimate the + moment they see one another—great genealogists too; they know + immediately the whole kin and kin's kin of each other, though dispersed + over the three kingdoms, as well as the genealogies and kin's kin of those + whom they serve. + </p> + <p> + But my precautions end not here. + </p> + <p> + O Jack, with such an invention, what occasion had I to carry my beloved to + Mrs. Sinclair's? + </p> + <p> + My spouse may have farther occasion for the messengers whom she + dispatched, one to Miss Howe, the other to Wilson's. With one of these + Will. is already well-acquainted, as thou hast heard—to mingle + liquor is to mingle souls with these fellows; with the other messenger he + will soon be acquainted, if he be not already. + </p> + <p> + The Captain's servant has his uses and instructions assigned him. I have + hinted at some of them already.* He also serves a most humane and + considerate master. I love to make every body respected to my power. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + The post, general and penny, will be strictly watched likewise. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe's Collins is remembered to be described. Miss Howe's and + Hickman's liveries also. + </p> + <p> + James Harlowe and Singleton are warned against. I am to be acquainted with + any inquiry that shall happen to be made after my spouse, whether by her + married or maiden name, before she shall be told of it—and this that + I may have it in my power to prevent mischief. + </p> + <p> + I have ordered Mowbray and Tourville (and Belton, if his health permit) to + take their quarters at Hampstead for a week, with their fellows to attend + them. I spare thee for the present, because of thy private concerns. But + hold thyself in cheerful readiness, however, as a mark of thy allegiance. + </p> + <p> + As to my spouse herself, has she not reason to be pleased with me for + having permitted her to receive Miss Howe's letter from Wilson's? A plain + case, either that I am no deep plotter, or that I have no farther views + than to make my peace with her for an offence so slight and so accidental. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe says, though prefaced with an alas! that her charming friend + loves me: she must therefore yearn after this reconciliation—prospects + so fair—if she showed me any compassion; seemed inclinable to spare + me, and to make the most favourable construction: I cannot but say, that + it would be impossible not to show her some. But, to be insulted and + defied by a rebel in one's power, what prince can bear that? + </p> + <p> + But I must return to the scene of action. I must keep the women steady. I + had no opportunity to talk to my worthy Mrs. Bevis in private. + </p> + <p> + Tomlinson, a dog, not come yet! + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FROM MY APARTMENTS AT MRS. MOORE'S. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins at her brothers; Mrs. Moore engaged in household matters; + widow Bevis dressing; I have nothing to do but write. This cursed + Tomlinson not yet arrived!—Nothing to be done without him. + </p> + <p> + I think he shall complain in pretty high language of the treatment he met + with yesterday. 'What are our affairs to him? He can have no view but to + serve us. Cruel to send back to town, un-audienced, unseen, a man of his + business and importance. He never stirs a-foot, but something of + consequence depends upon his movements. A confounded thing to trifle thus + humoursomely with such a gentleman's moments!—These women think, + that all the business of the world must stand still for their figaries [a + good female word, Jack!] the greatest triflers in the creation, to fancy + themselves the most important beings in it—marry come up! as I have + heard goody Sorlings say to her servants, when she has rated at them with + mingled anger and disdain.' + </p> + <p> + After all, methinks I want those tostications [thou seest how women, and + women's words, fill my mind] to be over, happily over, that I may sit down + quietly, and reflect upon the dangers I have passed through, and the + troubles I have undergone. I have a reflecting mind, as thou knowest; but + the very word reflecting implies all got over. + </p> + <p> + What briars and thorns does the wretch rush into (a scratched face and + tattered garments the unavoidable consequence) who will needs be for + striking out a new path through overgrown underwood; quitting that beaten + out for him by those who have travelled the same road before him! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + A visit from the widow Bevis, in my own apartment. She tells me, that my + spouse had thoughts last night, after I was gone to my lodgings, of + removing from Mrs. Moore's. + </p> + <p> + I almost wish she had attempted to do so. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins, it seems, who was applied to upon it, dissuaded her from it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore also, though she did not own that Will. lay in the house, (or + rather set up in it, courting,) set before her the difficulties, which, in + her opinion, she would have to get clear off, without my knowledge; + assuring her, that she could be no where more safe than with her, till she + had fixed whither to go. And the lady herself recollected, that if she + went, she might miss the expected letter from her dear friend Miss Howe! + which, as she owned, was to direct her future steps. + </p> + <p> + She must also surely have some curiosity to know what her uncle's friend + had to say to her from her uncle, contemptuously as she yesterday treated + a man of his importance. Nor could she, I should think, be absolutely + determined to put herself out of the way of receiving the visits of two of + the principal ladies of my family, and to break entirely with me in the + face of them all.—Besides, whither could she have gone?—Moreover, + Miss Howe's letter coming (after her elopement) so safely to her hands, + must surely put her into a more confiding temper with me, and with every + one else, though she would not immediately own it. + </p> + <p> + But these good folks have so little charity!—Are such severe + censurers! —Yet who is absolutely perfect?—It were to be + wished, however, that they would be so modest as to doubt themselves + sometimes: then would they allow for others, as others (excellent as they + imagine themselves to be) must for them. + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY, ONE O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Tomlinson at last is come. Forced to ride five miles about (though I shall + impute his delay to great and important business) to avoid the sight of + two or three impertinent rascals, who, little thinking whose affairs he + was employed in, wanted to obtrude themselves upon him. I think I will + make this fellow easy, if he behave to my liking in this affair. + </p> + <p> + I sent up the moment he came. + </p> + <p> + She desired to be excused receiving his visit till four this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Intolerable!—No consideration!—None at all in this sex, when + their cursed humours are in the way!—Pay-day, pay-hour, rather, will + come!— Oh! that it were to be the next! + </p> + <p> + The Captain is in a pet. Who can blame him? Even the women think a man of + his consequence, and generously coming to serve us, hardly used. Would to + heaven she had attempted to get off last night! The women not my enemies, + who knows but the husband's exerted authority might have met with such + connivance, as might have concluded either in carrying her back to her + former lodgings, or in consummation at Mrs. Moore's, in spite of + exclamations, fits, and the rest of the female obsecrations? + </p> + <p> + My beloved has not appeared to any body this day, except to Mrs. Moore. + Is, it seems, extremely low: unfit for the interesting conversation that + is to be held in the afternoon. Longs to hear from her dear friend Miss + Howe—yet cannot expect a letter for a day or two. Has a bad opinion + of all mankind.—No wonder!—Excellent creature as she is! with + such a father, such uncles, such a brother, as she has! + </p> + <p> + How does she look? + </p> + <p> + Better than could be expected from yesterday's fatigue, and last night's + ill rest. + </p> + <p> + These tender doves know not, till put to it, what they can bear; + especially when engaged in love affairs; and their attention wholly + engrossed. But the sex love busy scenes. Still life is their aversion. A + woman will create a storm, rather than be without one. So that they can + preside in the whirlwind, and direct it, they are happy.—But my + beloved's misfortune is, that she must live in tumult; yet neither raise + them herself, nor be able to controul them. + </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> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SAT NIGHT, JUNE 10. + </p> + <p> + What will be the issue of all my plots and contrivances, devil take me if + I am able to divine. But I will not, as Lord M. would say, forestall my + own market. + </p> + <p> + At four, the appointed hour, I sent up, to desire admittance in the + Captain's name and my own. + </p> + <p> + She would wait upon the Captain presently; [not upon me!] and in the + parlour, if it were not engaged. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room being mine, perhaps that was the reason of her naming the + parlour—mighty nice again, if so! No good sign for me, thought I, + this stiff punctilio. + </p> + <p> + In the parlour, with me and the Captain, were Mrs. Moore, Miss Rawlins, + and Mrs. Bevis. + </p> + <p> + The women said, they would withdraw when the lady came down. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Not, except she chooses you should, Ladies.—People who are so + much above-board as I am, need not make secrets of any of their affairs. + Besides, you three ladies are now acquainted with all our concerns. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I have some things to say to your lady, that perhaps she would not + herself choose that any body should hear; not even you, Mr. Lovelace, as + you and her family are not upon such a good foot of understanding as were + to be wished. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Well, well, Captain, I must submit. Give us a sign to withdraw, and + we will withdraw. + </p> + <p> + It was better that the exclusion of the women should come from him, than + from me. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I will bow, and wave my hand, thus—when I wish to be alone + with the lady. Her uncle dotes upon her. I hope, Mr. Lovelace, you will + not make a reconciliation more difficult, for the earnestness which my + dear friend shows to bring it to bear. But indeed I must tell you, as I + told you more than once before, that I am afraid you have made lighter of + the occasion of this misunderstanding to me, than it ought to have been + made. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. I hope, Captain Tomlinson, you do not question my veracity! + </p> + <p> + Capt. I beg your pardon, Mr. Lovelace—but those things which we men + may think lightly of, may not be light to a woman of delicacy.—And + then, if you have bound yourself by a vow, you ought— + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins bridling, her lips closed, (but her mouth stretched to a + smile of approbation, the longer for not buttoning,) tacitly showed + herself pleased with the Captain for his delicacy. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore could speak—Very true, however, was all she said, with a + motion of her head that expressed the bow-approbatory. + </p> + <p> + For my part, said the jolly widow, staring with eyes as big as eggs, I + know what I know.—But man and wife are man and wife; or they are not + man and wife.—I have no notion of standing upon such niceties. + </p> + <p> + But here she comes! cried one, hearing her chamber-door open—Here + she comes! another, hearing it shut after her—And down dropt the + angel among us. + </p> + <p> + We all stood up, bowing and courtesying, and could not help it; for she + entered with such an air as commanded all our reverence. Yet the Captain + looked plaguy grave. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Pray keep your seats, Ladies—Pray do not go, [for they made + offers to withdraw; yet Miss Rawlins would have burst had she been + suffered to retire.] Before this time you have all heard my story, I make + no doubt— pray keep your seats—at least all Mr. Lovelace's. + </p> + <p> + A very saucy and whimsical beginning, thought I. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tomlinson, your servant, addressing herself to him with inimitable + dignity. I hope you did not take amiss my declining your visit yesterday. + I was really incapable of talking upon any subject that required + attention. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I am glad to see you better now, Madam. I hope I do. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Indeed I am not well. I would not have excused myself from attending + you some hours ago, but in hopes I should have been better. I beg your + pardon, Sir, for the trouble I have given you; and shall the rather expect + it, as this day will, I hope, conclude it all. + </p> + <p> + Thus set; thus determined; thought I,—yet to have slept upon it!—But, + as what she said was capable of a good, as well as a bad, construction, I + would not put an unfavourable one upon it. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. The Captain was sorry, my dear, he did not offer his attendance the + moment he arrived yesterday. He was afraid that you took it amiss that he + did not. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Perhaps I thought that my uncle's friend might have wished to see me + as soon as he came, [how we stared!]—But, Sir, [to me,] it might be + convenient to you to detain him. + </p> + <p> + The devil, thought I!—So there really was resentment as well as + head- ache, as my good friend Mrs. Bevis observed, in her refusing to see + the honest gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Capt. You would detain me, Mr. Lovelace—I was for paying my respects + to the lady the moment I came— + </p> + <p> + Cl. Well, Sir, [interrupting him,] to wave this; for I would not be + thought captious—if you have not suffered inconvenience, in being + obliged to come again, I shall be easy. + </p> + <p> + Capt. [Half disconcerted.] A little inconvenience, I can't say but I have + suffered. I have, indeed, too many affairs upon my hands; but the desire I + have to serve you and Mr. Lovelace, as well as to oblige my dear friend, + your uncle Harlowe, make great inconveniencies but small ones. + </p> + <p> + Cl. You are very obliging, Sir.—Here is a great alteration since you + parted with us last. + </p> + <p> + Capt. A great one indeed, Madam! I was very much surprised at it, on + Thursday evening, when Mr. Lovelace conducted me to your lodgings, where + we hoped to find you. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Have you any thing to say to me, Sir, from my uncle himself, that + requires my private ear!—Don't go, Ladies, [for the women stood up, + and offered to withdraw,]—if Mr. Lovelace stays, I am sure you may. + </p> + <p> + I frowned—I bit my lip—I looked at the women—and shook + my head. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I have nothing to offer, but what Mr. Lovelace is a party to, and + may hear, except one private word or two, which may be postponed to the + last. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Pray, Ladies, keep your seats.—Things are altered, Sir, since I + saw you. You can mention nothing that relates to me now, to which that + gentleman can be a party. + </p> + <p> + Capt. You surprise me, Madam! I am sorry to hear this!—Sorry for + your uncle's sake!—Sorry for your sake!—Sorry for Mr. + Lovelace's sake!—And yet I am sure he must have given greater + occasion than he has mentioned to me, or— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Indeed, Captain,—indeed, Ladies, I have told you great part + of my story!—And what I told you of my offence was the truth:—what + I concealed of my story was only what I apprehended would, if known, cause + this dear creature to be thought more censorious than charitable. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Well, well, Sir, say what you please. Make me as black as you please—make + yourself as white as you can—I am not now in your power: that + consideration will comfort me for all. + </p> + <p> + Capt. God forbid that I should offer to plead in behalf of a crime, that a + woman of virtue and honour cannot forgive! But surely, surely, Madam, this + is going too far. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Do not blame me, Captain Tomlinson. I have a good opinion of you, as + my uncle's friend; but if you are Mr. Lovelace's friend, that is another + thing; for my interest and Mr. Lovelace's must now be for ever separated. + </p> + <p> + Capt. One word with you, Madam, if you please—offering to retire. + </p> + <p> + Cl. You may say all that you please to say before these gentlewomen.— + Mr. Lovelace may have secrets—I have none:—you seem to think + me faulty: I should be glad that all the world knew my heart. Let my + enemies sit in judgment upon my actions; fairly scanned, I fear not the + result; let them even ask me my most secret thoughts, and, whether they + make for me, or against me, I will reveal them. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Noble Lady! who can say as you say? + </p> + <p> + The women held up their hands and eyes; each, as if she had said,—Not + I. + </p> + <p> + No disorder here! said Miss Rawlins:—but, (judging by her own + heart,) a confounded deal of improbability, I believe she thought. + </p> + <p> + Finely said, to be sure, said the widow Bevis, shrugging her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore sighed. + </p> + <p> + Jack Belford, thought I, knows all mine; and in this I am more ingenuous + than any of the three, and a fit match for this paragon. + </p> + <p> + Cl. How Mr. Lovelace has found me out here I cannot tell: but such mean + devices, such artful, such worse than Waltham disguises put on, to obtrude + himself into my company; such bold, such shocking untruths— + </p> + <p> + Capt. The favour of but one word, Madam, in private— + </p> + <p> + Cl. In order to support a right which he has not over me!—O Sir!—O + Captain Tomlinson!—I think I have reason to say, that the man, + (there he stands!) is capable of any vileness!— + </p> + <p> + The women looked upon one another, and upon me, by turns, to see how I + bore it. I had such dartings in my head at the instant, that I thought I + should have gone distracted. My brain seemed on fire. What would I have + given to have had her alone with me!—I traversed the room; my + clenched fist to my forehead. O that I had any body here, thought I, that, + Hercules-like, when flaming in the tortures of Dejanira's poisoned shirt, + I could tear in pieces! + </p> + <p> + Capt. Dear Lady! see you not how the poor gentleman—Lord, how have I + imposed upon your uncle, at this rate! How happy did I tell him I saw you! + How happy I was sure you would be in each other! + </p> + <p> + Cl. O Sir, you don't know how many premeditated offences I had forgiven + when I saw you last, before I could appear to you what I hoped then I + might for the future be!—But now you may tell my uncle, if you + please, that I cannot hope for his mediation. Tell him, that my guilt, in + giving this man an opportunity to spirit me away from my tried, my + experienced, my natural friends, (harshly as they treated me,) stares me + every day more and more in the face; and still the more, as my fate seems + to be drawing to a crisis, according to the malediction of my offended + father! + </p> + <p> + And then she burst into tears, which even affected that dog, who, brought + to abet me, was himself all Belforded over. + </p> + <p> + The women, so used to cry without grief, as they are to laugh without + reason, by mere force of example, [confound their promptitudes;] must + needs pull out their handkerchiefs. The less wonder, however, as I myself, + between confusion, surprise, and concern, could hardly stand it. + </p> + <p> + What's a tender heart good for?—Who can be happy that has a feeling + heart?—And yet, thou'lt say, that he who has it not, must be a + tiger, and no man. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Let me beg the favour of one word with you, Madam, in private; and + that on my own account. + </p> + <p> + The women hereupon offered to retire. She insisted that, if they went, I + should not stay. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Sir, bowing to me, shall I beg— + </p> + <p> + I hope, thought I, that I may trust this solemn dog, instructed as he is. + She does not doubt him. I'll stay out no longer than to give her time to + spend her first fire. + </p> + <p> + I then passively withdrew with the women.—But with such a bow to my + goddess, that it won for me every heart but that I wanted most to win; for + the haughty maid bent not her knee in return. + </p> + <p> + The conversation between the Captain and the lady, when we were retired, + was to the following effect:—They both talked loud enough for me to + hear them—the lady from anger, the Captain with design; and thou + mayest be sure there was no listener but myself. What I was imperfect in + was supplied afterwards; for I had my vellum-leaved book to note all down. + If she had known this, perhaps she would have been more sparing of her + invectives—and but perhaps neither. + </p> + <p> + He told her that as her brother was absolutely resolved to see her; and as + he himself, in compliance with her uncle's expedient, had reported her + marriage; and as that report had reached the ears of Lord M., Lady Betty, + and the rest of my relations; and as he had been obliged, in consequence + of his first report, to vouch it; and as her brother might find out where + she was, and apply to the women here for a confirmation or refutation of + the marriage; he had thought himself obliged to countenance the report + before the women. That this had embarrassed him not a little, as he would + not for the world that she should have cause to think him capable of + prevarication, contrivance, or double dealing; and that this made him + desirous of a private conversation with her. + </p> + <p> + It was true, she said, she had given her consent to such an expedient, + believing it was her uncle's; and little thinking that it would lead to so + many errors. Yet she might have known that one error is frequently the + parent of many. Mr. Lovelace had made her sensible of the truth of that + observation, on more occasions than one; and it was an observation that + he, the Captain, had made, in one of the letters that was shown her + yesterday.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIV. + </p> + <p> + He hoped that she had no mistrust of him: that she had no doubt of his + honour. If, Madam, you suspect me—if you think me capable—what + a man! the Lord be merciful to me!—What a man must you think me! + </p> + <p> + I hope, Sir, there cannot be a man in the world who could deserve to be + suspected in such a case as this. I do not suspect you. If it were + possible there could be one such a man, I am sure, Captain Tomlinson, a + father of children, a man in years, of sense and experience, cannot be + that man. + </p> + <p> + He told me, that just then, he thought he felt a sudden flash from her + eye, an eye-beam as he called it, dart through his shivering reins; and he + could not help trembling. + </p> + <p> + The dog's conscience, Jack!—Nothing else!—I have felt half a + dozen such flashes, such eye-beams, in as many different conversations + with this soul-piercing beauty. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle, she must own, was not accustomed to think of such expedients; + but she had reconciled this to herself, as the case was unhappily + uncommon; and by the regard he had for her honour. + </p> + <p> + This set the puppy's heart at ease, and gave him more courage. + </p> + <p> + She asked him if he thought Lady Betty and Miss Montague intended her a + visit? + </p> + <p> + He had no doubt but they did. + </p> + <p> + And does he imagine, said she, that I could be brought to countenance to + them the report you have given out? + </p> + <p> + [I had hoped to bring her to this, Jack, or she had seen their letters. + But I had told the Captain that I believed I must give up this + expectation.] + </p> + <p> + No.—He believed that I had not such a thought. He was pretty sure, + that I intended, when I saw them, to tell them, (as in confidence,) the + naked truth. + </p> + <p> + He then told her that her uncle had already made some steps towards a + general reconciliation. The moment, Madam, that he knows you are really + married, he will enter into confidence with your father upon it; having + actually expressed to your mother his desire to be reconciled to you. + </p> + <p> + And what, Sir, said my mother? What said my dear mother? + </p> + <p> + With great emotion she asked this question; holding out her sweet face, as + the Captain described her, with the most earnest attention, as if she + would shorten the way which his words were to have to her heart. + </p> + <p> + Your mother, Madam, burst into tears upon it: and your uncle was so + penetrated by her tenderness, that he could not proceed with the subject. + But he intends to enter upon it with her in form, as soon as he hears that + the ceremony is over. + </p> + <p> + By the tone of her voice she wept. The dear creature, thought I, begins to + relent!—And I grudged the dog his eloquence. I could hardly bear the + thought that any man breathing should have the power which I had lost, of + persuading this high-souled woman, though in my own favour. And wouldest + thou think it? this reflection gave me more uneasiness at the moment than + I felt from her reproaches, violent as they were; or than I had pleasure + in her supposed relenting: for there is beauty in every thing she says and + does!—Beauty in her passion!—Beauty in her tears!—Had + the Captain been a young fellow, and of rank and fortune, his throat would + have been in danger; and I should have thought very hardly of her. + </p> + <p> + O Captain Tomlinson, said she, you know not what I have suffered by this + man's strange ways! He had, as I was not ashamed to tell him yesterday, a + plain path before him. He at first betrayed me into his power—but + when I was in it—There she stopt.—Then resuming—O Sir, + you know not what a strange man he has been!—An unpolite, a + rough-manner'd man! In disgrace of his birth, and education, and + knowledge, an unpolite man!— And so acting, as if his worldly and + personal advantages set him above those graces which distinguish a + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + The first woman that ever said, or that ever thought so of me, that's my + comfort, thought I!—But this, (spoken of to her uncle's friend, + behind my back,) helps to heap up thy already-too-full measure, dearest!—It + is down in my vellum-book. + </p> + <p> + Cl. When I look back on his whole behaviour to a poor young creature, (for + I am but a very young creature,) I cannot acquit him either of great folly + or of deep design. And, last Wednesday—There she stopt; and I + suppose turned away her face. + </p> + <p> + I wonder she was not ashamed to hint at what she thought so shameful; and + that to a man, and alone with him. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Far be it from me, Madam, to offer to enter too closely into so + tender a subject. Mr. Lovelace owns, that you have reason to be displeased + with him. But he so solemnly clears himself of premeditated offence— + </p> + <p> + Cl. He cannot clear himself, Captain Tomlinson. The people of the house + must be very vile, as well as he. I am convinced that there was a wicked + confederacy—but no more upon such a subject. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Only one word more, Madam.—He tells me, that you promised to + pardon him. He tells me— + </p> + <p> + He knew, interrupted she, that he deserved not pardon, or he had not + extorted the promise from me. Nor had I given it to him, but to shield + myself from the vilest outrage— + </p> + <p> + Capt. I could wish, Madam, inexcusable as his behaviour has been, since he + has something to plead in the reliance he made upon your promise, that, + for the sake of appearances to the world, and to avoid the mischiefs that + may follow if you absolutely break with him, you could prevail upon your + naturally-generous mind to lay an obligation upon him by your forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Your father and mother, Madam, deplore a daughter lost to them, whom + your generosity to Mr. Lovelace may restore: do not put it to the possible + chance, that they may have cause to deplore a double loss; the losing of a + son, as well as a daughter, who, by his own violence, which you may + perhaps prevent, may be for ever lost to them, and to the whole family. + </p> + <p> + She paused—she wept—she owned that she felt the force of this + argument. + </p> + <p> + I will be the making of this fellow, thought I. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Permit me, Madam, to tell you, that I do not think it would be + difficult to prevail upon your uncle, if you insist upon it, to come up + privately to town, and to give you with his own hand to Mr. Lovelace— + except, indeed, your present misunderstanding were to come to his ears. + Besides, Madam, your brother, it is likely, may at this very time be in + town; and he is resolved to find you out— + </p> + <p> + Cl. Why, Sir, should I be so much afraid of my brother? My brother has + injured me, not I him. Will my brother offer to me what Mr. Lovelace has + offered?—Wicked, ungrateful man! to insult a friendless, unprotected + creature, made friendless by himself!—I cannot, cannot think of him + in the light I once thought of him. What, Sir, to put myself into the + power of a wretch, who has acted by me with so much vile premeditation!—Who + shall pity, who shall excuse me, if I do, were I to suffer ever so much + from him?—No, Sir.—Let Mr. Lovelace leave me—let my + brother find me. I am not such a poor creature as to be afraid to face the + brother who has injured me. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Were you and your brother to meet only to confer together, to + expostulate, to clear up difficulties, it were another thing. But what, + Madam, can you think will be the issue of an interview, (Mr. Solmes with + him,) when he finds you unmarried, and resolved never to have Mr. + Lovelace; supposing Mr. Lovelace were not to interfere, which cannot be + imagined? + </p> + <p> + Cl. Well, Sir, I can only say, I am a very unhappy creature!—I must + resign to the will of Providence, and be patient under evils, which that + will not permit me to shun. But I have taken my measures. Mr. Lovelace can + never make me happy, nor I him. I wait here only for a letter from Miss + Howe—that must determine me— + </p> + <p> + Determine you as to Mr. Lovelace, Madam? interrupted the Captain. + </p> + <p> + Cl. I am already determined as to him. + </p> + <p> + Capt. If it be not in his favour, I have done. I cannot use stronger + arguments than I have used, and it would be impertinent to repeat them. If + you cannot forgive his offence, I am sure it must have been much greater + than he has owned to me. If you are absolutely determined, be pleased to + let me know what I shall say to your uncle? You were pleased to tell me, + that this day would put an end to what you called my trouble: I should not + have thought it any, could I have been an humble mean of reconciling + persons of worth and honour to each other. + </p> + <p> + Here I entered with a solemn air. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Captain Tomlinson, I have heard a part of what has passed between + you and this unforgiving (however otherwise excellent) lady. I am cut to + the heart to find the dear creature so determined. I could not have + believed it possible, with such prospects, that I had so little share in + her esteem. Nevertheless I must do myself justice with regard to the + offence I was so unhappy as to give, since I find you are ready to think + it much greater than it really was. + </p> + <p> + Cl. I hear not, Sir, your recapitulations. I am, and ought to be, the sole + judge of insults offered to my person. I enter not into discussion with + you, nor hear you on the shocking subject. And was going. + </p> + <p> + I put myself between her and the door—You may hear all I have to + say, Madam. My fault is not of such a nature, but that you may. I will be + a just accuser of myself; and will not wound your ears. + </p> + <p> + I then protested that the fire was a real fire. [So it was.] I disclaimed + [less truly] premeditation. I owned that I was hurried on by the violence + of a youthful passion, and by a sudden impulse, which few other persons, + in the like situation, would have been able to check: that I withdrew, at + her command and entreaty, on the promise of pardon, without having offered + the least indecency, or any freedom, that would not have been forgiven by + persons of delicacy, surprised in an attitude so charming—her + terror, on the alarm of fire, calling for a soothing behaviour, and + personal tenderness, she being ready to fall into fits: my hoped-for happy + day so near, that I might be presumed to be looked upon as a betrothed + lover—and that this excuse might be pleaded even for the women of + the house, that they, thinking us actually married, might suppose + themselves to be the less concerned to interfere on so tender an occasion.—[There, + Jack, was a bold insinuation on behalf of the women!] + </p> + <p> + High indignation filled her disdainful eye, eye-beam after eye-beam + flashing at me. Every feature of her sweet face had soul in it. Yet she + spoke not. Perhaps, Jack, she had a thought, that this plea for the women + accounted for my contrivance to have her pass to them as married, when I + first carried her thither. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Indeed, Sir, I must say that you did not well to add to the + apprehensions of a lady so much terrified before. + </p> + <p> + The dear creature offered to go by me. I set my back against the door, and + besought her to stay a few moments. I had not said thus much, my dearest + creature, but for your sake, as well as for my own, that Captain Tomlinson + should not think I had been viler than I was. Nor will I say one word more + on the subject, after I have appealed to your own heart, whether it was + not necessary that I should say so much; and to the Captain, whether + otherwise he would not have gone away with a much worse opinion of me, if + he had judged of my offence by the violence of your resentment. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Indeed I should. I own I should. And I am very glad, Mr. Lovelace, + that you are able to defend yourself thus far. + </p> + <p> + Cl. That cause must be well tried, where the offender takes his seat upon + the same bench with the judge.—I submit not mine to men—nor, + give me leave to say, to you, Captain Tomlinson, though I am willing to + have a good opinion of you. Had not the man been assured that he had + influenced you in his favour, he would not have brought you up to + Hampstead. + </p> + <p> + Capt. That I am influenced, as you call it, Madam, is for the sake of your + uncle, and for your own sake, more (I will say to Mr. Lovelace's face) + than for his. What can I have in view but peace and reconciliation? I + have, from the first, blamed, and I now, again, blame Mr. Lovelace, for + adding distress to distress, and terror to terror; the lady, as you + acknowledge, Sir, [looking valiantly,] ready before to fall into fits. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Let me own to you, Captain Tomlinson, that I have been a very + faulty, a very foolish man; and, if this dear creature ever honoured me + with her love, an ungrateful one. But I have had too much reason to doubt + it. And this is now a flagrant proof that she never had the value for me + which my proud heart wished for; that, with such prospects before us; a + day so near; settlements approved and drawn; her uncle meditating a + general reconciliation which, for her sake, not my own, I was desirous to + give into; she can, for an offence so really slight, on an occasion so + truly accidental, renounce me for ever; and, with me, all hopes of that + reconciliation in the way her uncle had put it in, and she had acquiesced + with; and risque all consequences, fatal ones as they may too possibly be.—By + my soul, Captain Tomlinson, the dear creature must have hated me all the + time she was intending to honour me with her hand. And now she must + resolve to abandon me, as far as I know, with a preference in her heart of + the most odious of men—in favour of that Solmes, who, as you tell + me, accompanies her brother: and with what hopes, with what view, + accompanies him!—How can I bear to think of this?— + </p> + <p> + Cl. It is fit, Sir, that you should judge of my regard for you by your own + conscienceness of demerit. Yet you know, or you would not have dared to + behave to me as sometimes you did, that you had more of it than you + deserved. + </p> + <p> + She walked from us; and then returning, Captain Tomlinson, said she, I + will own to you, that I was not capable of resolving to give my hand, and + —nothing but my hand. Had I not given a flagrant proof of this to + the once most indulgent of parents? which has brought me into a distress, + which this man has heightened, when he ought, in gratitude and honour, to + have endeavoured to render it supportable. I had even a bias, Sir, in his + favour, I scruple not to own it. Long (much too long!) bore I with his + unaccountable ways, attributing his errors to unmeaning gaiety, and to a + want of knowing what true delicacy, and true generosity, required from a + heart susceptible of grateful impressions to one involved by his means in + unhappy circumstances. + </p> + <p> + It is now wickedness in him (a wickedness which discredits all his + professions) to say, that this last cruel and ungrateful insult was not a + premeditated one—But what need I say more of this insult, when it + was of such a nature, and that it has changed that bias in his favour, and + make me choose to forego all the inviting prospects he talks of, and to + run all hazards, to free myself from his power? + </p> + <p> + O my dearest creature! how happy for us both, had I been able to discover + that bias, as you condescend to call it, through such reserves as man + never encountered with! + </p> + <p> + He did discover it, Capt. Tomlinson. He brought me, more than once, to own + it; the more needlessly brought me to own it, as I dare say his own vanity + gave him no cause to doubt it; and as I had apparently no other motive in + not being forward to own it, than my too-justly-founded apprehensions of + his want of generosity. In a word, Captain Tomlinson, (and now, that I am + determined upon my measures, I the less scruple to say,) I should have + despised myself, had I found myself capable of affectation or tyranny to + the man I intended to marry. I have always blamed the dearest friend I + have in the world for a fault of this nature. In a word— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. And had my angel really and indeed the favour for me she is pleased + to own?—Dearest creature, forgive me. Restore me to your good + opinion. Surely I have not sinned beyond forgiveness. You say that I + extorted from you the promise you made me. But I could not have presumed + to make that promise the condition of my obedience, had I not thought + there was room to expect forgiveness. Permit, I beseech you, the prospects + to take place, that were opening so agreeably before us. I will go to + town, and bring the license. All difficulties to the obtaining of it are + surmounted. Captain Tomlinson shall be witness to the deeds. He will be + present at the ceremony on the part of your uncle. Indeed he gave me hope + that your uncle himself— + </p> + <p> + Capt. I did, Mr. Lovelace: and I will tell you my grounds for the hope I + gave. I promised to my dear friend, (your uncle, Madam,) that he should + give out that he would take a turn with me to my little farm-house, as I + call it, near Northampton, for a week or so.—Poor gentleman! he has + of late been very little abroad!—Too visibly declining!—Change + of air, it might be given out, was good for him.—But I see, Madam, + that this is too tender a subject— + </p> + <p> + The dear creature wept. She knew how to apply as meant the Captain's hint + to the occasion of her uncle's declining state of health. + </p> + <p> + Capt. We might indeed, I told him, set out in that road, but turn short to + town in my chariot; and he might see the ceremony performed with his own + eyes, and be the desired father, as well as the beloved uncle. + </p> + <p> + She turned from us, and wiped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Capt. And, really, there seem now to be but two objections to this, as Mr. + Harlowe discouraged not the proposal—The one, the unhappy + misunderstanding between you; which I would not by any means he should + know; since then he might be apt to give weight to Mr. James Harlowe's + unjust surmises.—The other, that it would necessarily occasion some + delay to the ceremony; which certainly may be performed in a day or two + —if— + </p> + <p> + And then he reverently bowed to my goddess.—Charming fellow!—But + often did I curse my stars, for making me so much obliged to his + adroitness. + </p> + <p> + She was going to speak; but, not liking the turn of her countenance + (although, as I thought, its severity and indignation seemed a little + abated) I said, and had like to have blown myself up by it—one + expedient I have just thought of— + </p> + <p> + Cl. None of your expedients, Mr. Lovelace!—I abhor your expedients, + your inventions—I have had too many of them. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. See, Capt. Tomlinson!—See, Sir!—O how we expose + ourselves to you!—Little did you think, I dare say, that we have + lived in such a continued misunderstanding together!—But you will + make the best of it all. We may yet be happy. Oh! that I could have been + assured that this dear creature loved me with the hundredth part of the + love I have for her!—Our diffidences have been mutual. I presume to + say that she has too much punctilio: I am afraid that I have too little. + Hence our difficulties. But I have a heart, Captain Tomlinson, a heart, + that bids me hope for her love, because it is resolved to deserve it as + much as man can deserve it. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I am indeed surprised at what I have seen and heard. I defend not + Mr. Lovelace, Madam, in the offence he has given you—as a father of + daughters myself, I cannot defend him; though his fault seems to be + lighter than I had apprehended—but in my conscience, Madam, I think + you carry your resentment too high. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Too high, Sir!—Too high to the man that might have been happy if + he would! Too high to the man that has held my soul in suspense an hundred + times, since (by artifice and deceit) he obtained a power over me!—Say, + Lovelace, thyself say, art thou not the very Lovelace, who by insulting + me, hast wronged thine own hopes?—The wretch that appeared in vile + disguises, personating an old, lame creature, seeking for lodgings for thy + sick wife?—Telling the gentlewomen here stories all of thine own + invention; and asserting to them an husband's right over me, which thou + hast not!—And is it [turning to the Captain] to be expected, that I + should give credit to the protestations of such a man? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Treat me, my dearest creature, as you please, I will bear it: and + yet your scorn and your violence have fixed daggers in my heart—But + was it possible, without those disguises, to come at your speech?—And + could I lose you, if study, if invention, would put it in my power to + arrest your anger, and give me hope to engage you to confirm to me the + promised pardon? The address I made to you before the women, as if the + marriage-ceremony had passed, was in consequence of what your uncle had + advised, and what you had acquiesced with; and the rather made, as your + brother, and Singleton, and Solmes, were resolved to find out whether what + was reported of your marriage were true or not, that they might take their + measures accordingly; and in hopes to prevent that mischief, which I have + been but too studious to prevent, since this tameness has but invited + insolence from your brother and his confederates. + </p> + <p> + Cl. O thou strange wretch, how thou talkest!—But, Captain Tomlinson, + give me leave to say, that, were I inclined to enter farther upon this + subject, I would appeal to Miss Rawlins's judgment (whom else have I to + appeal to?) She seems to be a person of prudence and honour; but not to + any man's judgment, whether I carry my resentment beyond fit bounds, when + I resolve— + </p> + <p> + Capt. Forgive, Madam, the interruption—but I think there can be no + reason for this. You ought, as you said, to be the sole judge of + indignities offered you. The gentlewomen here are strangers to you. You + will perhaps stay but a little while among them. If you lay the state of + your case before any of them, and your brother come to inquire of them, + your uncle's intended mediation will be discovered, and rendered abortive + —I shall appear in a light that I never appeared in, in my life—for + these women may not think themselves obliged to keep the secret. + </p> + <p> + Charming fellow! + </p> + <p> + Cl. O what difficulties has one fatal step involved me in—but there + is no necessity for such an appeal to any body. I am resolved on my + measures. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Absolutely resolved, Madam? + </p> + <p> + Cl. I am. + </p> + <p> + Capt. What shall I say to your uncle Harlowe, Madam?—Poor gentleman! + how will he be surprised!—You see, Mr. Lovelace—you see, Sir,—turning + to me with a flourishing hand—but you may thank yourself—and + admirably stalked he from us. + </p> + <p> + True, by my soul, thought I. I traversed the room, and bit my unpersuasive + lips, now upper, now under, for vexation. + </p> + <p> + He made a profound reverence to her—and went to the window, where + lay his hat and whip; and, taking them up, opened the door. Child, said + he, to some body he saw, pray order my servant to bring my horse to the + door— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You won't go, Sir—I hope you won't!—I am the unhappiest + man in the world!—You won't go—yet, alas!—But you won't + go, Sir!—there may be yet hopes that Lady Betty may have some weight— + </p> + <p> + Capt. Dear Mr. Lovelace! and may not my worthy friend, and affectionate + uncle, hope for some influence upon his daughter-niece?—But I beg + pardon —a letter will always find me disposed to serve the lady, and + that as well for her sake as for the sake of my dear friend. + </p> + <p> + She had thrown herself into her chair: her eyes cast down: she was + motionless, as in a profound study. + </p> + <p> + The Captain bowed to her again: but met with no return to his bow. Mr. + Lovelace, said he, (with an air of equality and independence,) I am + your's. + </p> + <p> + Still the dear unaccountable sat as immovable as a statue; stirring + neither hand, foot, head, nor eye—I never before saw any one in so + profound a reverie in so waking a dream. + </p> + <p> + He passed by her to go out at the door she sat near, though the passage by + the other door was his direct way; and bowed again. She moved not. I will + not disturb the lady in her meditations, Sir.—Adieu, Mr. Lovelace + —no farther, I beseech you. + </p> + <p> + She started, sighing—Are you going, Sir? + </p> + <p> + Capt. I am, Madam. I could have been glad to do you service; but I see it + is not in my power. + </p> + <p> + She stood up, holding out one hand, with inimitable dignity and sweetness + —I am sorry you are going, Sir!—can't help it—I have no + friend to advise with—Mr. Lovelace has the art (or good fortune, + perhaps I should call it) to make himself many.—Well, Sir—if + you will go, I can't help it. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I will not go, Madam; his eyes twinkling. [Again seized with a fit + of humanity!] I will not go, if my longer stay can do you either service + or pleasure. What, Sir, [turning to me,] what, Mr. Lovelace, was your + expedient;—perhaps something may be offered, Madam— + </p> + <p> + She sighed, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + REVENGE, invoked I to myself, keep thy throne in my heart. If the usurper + LOVE once more drive thee from it, thou wilt never again regain + possession! + </p> + <p> + Lovel. What I had thought of, what I had intended to propose, [and I + sighed,] was this, that the dear creature, if she will not forgive me, as + she promised, will suspend the displeasure she has conceived against me, + till Lady Betty arrives.—That lady may be the mediatrix between us. + This dear creature may put herself into her protection, and accompany her + down to her seat in Oxfordshire. It is one of her Ladyship's purposes to + prevail on her supposed new niece to go down with her. It may pass to + every one but to Lady Betty, and to you, Captain Tomlinson, and to your + friend Mr. Harlowe (as he desires) that we have been some time married: + and her being with my relations will amount to a proof to James Harlowe + that we are; and our nuptials may be privately, and at this beloved + creature's pleasure, solemnized; and your report, Captain, authenticated. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Upon my honour, Madam, clapping his hand upon his breast, a charming + expedient!—This will answer every end. + </p> + <p> + She mused—she was greatly perplexed—at last, God direct me! + said she: I know not what to do—a young unfriended creature! Whom + can I have to advise with?—Let me retire, if I can retire. + </p> + <p> + She withdrew with slow and trembling feet, and went up to her chamber. + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake, said the penetrated varlet [his hands lifted up]; for + Heaven's sake, take compassion upon this admirable woman!—I cannot + proceed—she deserves all things— + </p> + <p> + Softly!—d—n the fellow!—the women are coming in. + </p> + <p> + He sobbed up his grief—turned about—hemm'd up a more manly + accent—Wipe thy cursed eyes—He did. The sunshine took place on + one cheek, and spread slowly to the other, and the fellow had his whole + face again. + </p> + <p> + The women all three came in, led by that ever-curious Miss Rawlins. I told + them, that the lady was gone up to consider of every thing: that we had + hopes of her. And such a representation we made of all that had passed, as + brought either tacit or declared blame upon the fair perverse for hardness + of heart and over-delicacy. + </p> + <p> + The widow Bevis, in particular, put out one lip, tossed up her head, + wrinkled her forehead, and made such motions with her now lifted-up, now + cast-down eyes, as showed that she thought there was a great deal of + perverseness and affectation in the lady. Now-and-then she changed her + censuring looks to looks of pity of me—but (as she said) she loved + not to aggravate!—A poor business, God help's! shrugging up her + shoulders, to make such a rout about! And then her eyes laughed heartily— + Indulgence was a good thing! Love was a good thing!—but too much was + too much! + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins, however, declared, after she had called the widow Bevis, + with a prudish simper, a comical gentlewoman! that there must be something + in our story, which she could not fathom; and went from us into a corner, + and sat down, seemingly vexed that she could not. + </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. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + The lady staid longer above than we wished; and I hoping that (lady-like) + she only waited for an invitation to return to us, desired the widow + Bevis, in the Captain's name, (who wanted to go to town,) to request the + favour of her company. + </p> + <p> + I cared not to send up either Miss Rawlins or Mrs. Moore on the errand, + lest my beloved should be in a communicative disposition; especially as + she had hinted at an appeal to Miss Rawlins; who, besides, has such an + unbounded curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bevis presently returned with an answer (winking and pinking at me) + that the lady would follow her down. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rawlins could not but offer to retire, as the others did. Her eyes, + however, intimated that she had rather stay. But they not being answered + as she seemed to wish, she went with the rest, but with slower feet; and + had hardly left the parlour, when the lady entered it by the other door; a + melancholy dignity in her person and air. + </p> + <p> + She sat down. Pray, Mr. Tomlinson, be seated. + </p> + <p> + He took his chair over against her. I stood behind her's that I might give + him agreed-upon signals, should there be occasion for them. + </p> + <p> + As thus—a wink of the left eye was to signify push that point, + Captain. + </p> + <p> + A wink of the right, and a nod, was to indicate approbation of what he had + said. + </p> + <p> + My fore-finger held up, and biting my lip, get off of that, as fast as + possible. + </p> + <p> + A right-forward nod, and a frown, swear to it, Captain. + </p> + <p> + My whole spread hand, to take care not to say too much on that particular + subject. + </p> + <p> + A scowling brow, and a positive nod, was to bid him rise in temper. + </p> + <p> + And these motions I could make, even those with my hand, without holding + up my arm, or moving my wrist, had the women been there; as, when the + motions were agreed upon, I knew not but they would. + </p> + <p> + She hemmed—I was going to speak, to spare her supposed confusion: + but this lady never wants presence of mind, when presence of mind is + necessary either to her honour, or to that conscious dignity which + distinguishes her from all the women I ever knew. + </p> + <p> + I have been considering, said she, as well as I was able, of every thing + that has passed; and of all that has been said; and of my unhappy + situation. I mean no ill, I wish no ill, to any creature living, Mr. + Tomlinson. I have always delighted to draw favourable rather than + unfavourable conclusions; sometimes, as it has proved, for very bad + hearts. Censoriousness, whatever faults I have, is not naturally my fault.—But, + circumstanced as I am, treated as I have been, unworthily treated, by a + man who is full of contrivances, and glories in them— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. My dearest life!—But I will not interrupt you. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Thus treated, it becomes me to doubt—it concerns my honour to + doubt, to fear, to apprehend—your intervention, Sir, is so + seasonable, so kind, for this man—my uncle's expedient, the first of + the kind he ever, I believe, thought of! a plain, honest, good-minded man, + as he is, not affecting such expedients—your report in conformity to + it—the consequences of that report; the alarm taken by my brother; + his rash resolution upon it—the alarm taken by Lady Betty, and the + rest of Mr. Lovelace's relations—the sudden letters written to him + upon it, which, with your's, he showed me—all ceremony, among + persons born observers of ceremony, and entitled to value themselves upon + their distinction, dispensed with—all these things have happened so + quick, and some of them so seasonable— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Lady Betty, you see, Madam, in her letter, dispenses with punctilo, + avowedly in compliment to you. Charlotte, in her's, professes to do the + same for the same reason. Good Heaven! that the respect intended you by my + relations, who, in every other case, are really punctilious, should be + thus construed! They were glad, Madam, to have an opportunity to + compliment you at my expense. Every one of my family takes delight in + rallying me. But their joy on the supposed occasion— + </p> + <p> + Cl. Do I doubt, Sir, that you have not something to say for any thing you + think fit to do? I am speaking to Captain Tomlinson, Sir. I will you would + be pleased to withdraw—at least to come from behind my chair. + </p> + <p> + And she looked at the Captain, observing, no doubt, that his eyes seemed + to take lessons from mine. + </p> + <p> + A fair match, by Jupiter! + </p> + <p> + The Captain was disconcerted. The dog had not had such a blush upon his + face for ten years before. I bit my lip for vexation: walked about the + room; but nevertheless took my post again; and blinked with my eyes to the + Captain, as a caution for him to take more care of his: and then scouling + with my brows, and giving the nod positive, I as good as said, resent + that, Captain. + </p> + <p> + Capt. I hope, Madam, you have no suspicion that I am capable— + </p> + <p> + Cl. Be not displeased with me, Captain Tomlinson. I have told you that I + am not of a suspicious temper. Excuse me for the sake of my sincerity. + There is not, I will be bold to say, a sincerer heart in the world than + her's before you. + </p> + <p> + She took out her handkerchief, and put it to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + I was going, at that instant, after her example, to vouch for the honesty + of my heart; but my conscience Mennelled upon me; and would not suffer the + meditated vow to pass my lips.—A devilish thing, thought I, for a + man to be so little himself, when he has most occasion for himself! + </p> + <p> + The villain Tomlinson looked at me with a rueful face, as if he begged + leave to cry for company. It might have been as well, if he had cried. A + feeling heart, or the tokens of it given by a sensible eye, are very + reputable things, when kept in countenance by the occasion. + </p> + <p> + And here let me fairly own to thee, that twenty times in this trying + conversation I said to myself, that could I have thought that I should + have had all this trouble, and incurred all this guilt, I would have been + honest at first. But why, Jack, is this dear creature so lovely, yet so + invincible?—Ever heardst thou before that the sweets of May + blossomed in December? + </p> + <p> + Capt. Be pleased—be pleased, Madam—if you have any doubts of + my honour— + </p> + <p> + A whining varlet! He should have been quite angry—For what gave I + him the nod positive? He should have stalked again to the window, as for + his whip and hat. + </p> + <p> + Cl. I am only making such observations as my youth, my inexperience, and + my present unhappy circumstances, suggest to me—a worthy heart + (such, I hope, as Captain Tomlinson's) need not fear an examination— + need not fear being looked into—whatever doubts that man, who has + been the cause of my errors, and, as my severe father imprecated, the + punisher of the errors he has caused, might have had of me, or of my + honour, I would have forgiven him for them, if he had fairly proposed them + to me: for some doubts perhaps such a man might have of the future conduct + of a creature whom he could induce to correspond with him against parental + prohibition, and against the lights which her own judgment threw in upon + her: and if he had propounded them to me like a man and a gentleman, I + would have been glad of the opportunity given me to clear my intentions, + and to have shown myself entitled to his good opinion—and I hope + you, Sir— + </p> + <p> + Capt. I am ready to hear all your doubts, Madam, and to clear them up— + </p> + <p> + Cl. I will only put it, Sir, to your conscience and honour— + </p> + <p> + The dog sat uneasy—he shuffled with his feet—her eye was upon + him—he was, therefore, after the rebuff he had met with, afraid to + look at me for my motions; and now turned his eyes towards me, then from + me, as if he would unlook his own looks. + </p> + <p> + Cl. That all is true, that you have written, and that you have told me. + </p> + <p> + I gave him a right forward nod, and a frown—as much as to say, swear + to it, Captain. But the varlet did not round it off as I would have had + him. However, he averred that it was. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped, he said, that the circumstances with which his commission + was attended, and what he had communicated to her, which he could not know + but from his dear friend, her uncle, might have shielded him even from the + shadow of suspicion. But I am contented, said he, stammering, to be + thought—to be thought—what—what you please to think of + me—till, till, you are satisfied— + </p> + <p> + A whore's-bird! + </p> + <p> + Cl. The circumstances you refer to, I must own ought to shield you, Sir, + from suspicion; but the man before you is a man that would make an angel + suspected, should that angel plead for him. + </p> + <p> + I came forward,—traversed the room,—was indeed in a bl—dy + passion.—I have no patience, Madam!—and again I bit my + unpersuasive lips. + </p> + <p> + Cl. No man ought to be impatient at imputations he is not ashamed to + deserve. An innocent man will not be outrageous upon such imputations. A + guilty man ought not. [Most excellently would this charming creature cap + sentences with Lord M.!] But I am not now trying you, Sir, [to me,] on the + foot of your merits. I am only sorry that I am constrained to put + questions to this worthier gentleman, [worthier gentleman, Jack!] which, + perhaps, I ought not to put, so far as they regard himself. And I hope, + Captain Tomlinson, that you, who know not Mr. Lovelace so well, as, to my + unhappiness, I do, and who have children of your own, will excuse a poor + young creature, who is deprived of all worldly protection, and who has + been insulted and endangered by the most designing man in the world, and, + perhaps, by a confederacy of his creatures. + </p> + <p> + There she stopt; and stood up, and looked at me; fear, nevertheless, + apparently mingled with her anger.—And so it ought. I was glad, + however, of this poor sign of love; no one fears whom they value not. + </p> + <p> + Women's tongues were licensed, I was going to say; but my conscience would + not let me call her a woman; nor use to her so vulgar a phrase. I could + only rave by my motions, lift up my eyes, spread my hands, rub my face, + pull my wig, and look like a fool. Indeed, I had a great mind to run mad. + Had I been alone with her, I would; and she should have taken + consequences. + </p> + <p> + The Captain interposed in my behalf; gently, however, and as a man not + quite sure that he was himself acquitted. Some of the pleas we had both + insisted on he again enforced; and, speaking low, Poor gentleman! said he, + who can but pity him? Indeed, Madam, it is easy to see, with all his + failings, the power you have over him! + </p> + <p> + Cl. I have no pleasure, Sir, in distressing any one; not even him, who has + so much distressed me. But, Sir, when I THINK, and when I see him before + me, I cannot command my temper! Indeed, indeed, Captain Tomlinson, Mr. + Lovelace has not acted by me either as a grateful or a generous man, nor + even as a prudent one!—He knows not, as I told him yesterday, the + value of the heart he has insulted! + </p> + <p> + There the angel stopt; her handkerchief at her eyes. + </p> + <p> + O Belford, Belford! that she should so greatly excel, as to make me, at + times, appear as a villain in my own eyes! + </p> + <p> + I besought her pardon. I promised that it should be the study of my whole + life to deserve it. My faults, I said, whatever they had been, were rather + faults in her apprehension than in fact. I besought her to give way to the + expedient I had hit upon—I repeated it. The Captain enforced it, for + her uncle's sake. I, once more, for the sake of the general + reconciliation; for the sake of all my family; for the sake of preventing + further mischief. + </p> + <p> + She wept. She seemed staggered in her resolution—she turned from me. + I mentioned the letter of Lord M. I besought her to resign to Lady Betty's + mediation all our differences, if she would not forgive me before she saw + her. + </p> + <p> + She turned towards me—she was going to speak; but her heart was + full, and again she turned away her eyes,—And do you really and + indeed expect Lady Betty and Miss Montague?—And do you—Again + she stopt. + </p> + <p> + I answered in a solemn manner. + </p> + <p> + She turned from me her whole face, and paused, and seemed to consider. + But, in a passionate accent, again turning towards me, [O how difficult, + Jack, for a Harlowe spirit to forgive!] Let her Ladyship come, if she + pleases, said she, I cannot, cannot, wish to see her; and if I did see + her, and she were to plead for you, I cannot wish to hear her! The more I + think, the less I can forgive an attempt, that I am convinced was intended + to destroy me. [A plaguy strong word for the occasion, supposing she was + right!] What has my conduct been, that an insult of such a nature should + be offered to me, and it would be a weakness in me to forgive? I am sunk + in my own eyes! And how can I receive a visit that must depress me more? + </p> + <p> + The Captain urged her in my favour with greater earnestness than before. + We both even clamoured, as I may say, for mercy and forgiveness. [Didst + thou never hear the good folks talk of taking Heaven by storm?]— + Contrition repeatedly avowed; a total reformation promised; the happy + expedient again urged. + </p> + <p> + Cl. I have taken my measures. I have gone too far to recede, or to wish to + recede. My mind is prepared for adversity. That I have not deserved the + evils I have met with is my consolation; I have written to Miss Howe what + my intentions are. My heart is not with you—it is against you, Mr. + Lovelace. I had not written to you as I did in the letter I left behind + me, had I not resolved, whatever became of me, to renounce you for ever. + </p> + <p> + I was full of hope now. Severe as her expressions were, I saw she was + afraid that I should think of what she had written. And, indeed, her + letter is violence itself.—Angry people, Jack, should never write + while their passion holds. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. The severity you have shown me, Madam, whether by pen or by speech, + shall never have place in my remembrance, but for your honor. In the light + you have taken things, all is deserved, and but the natural result of + virtuous resentment; and I adore you, even for the pangs you have given + me. + </p> + <p> + She was silent. She had employment enough with her handkerchief at her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You lament, sometimes, that you have no friends of your own sex to + consult with. Miss Rawlins, I must confess, is too inquisitive to be + confided in, [I liked not, thou mayest think, her appeal to Miss Rawlins.] + She may mean well. But I never in my life knew a person, who was fond of + prying into the secrets of others, that was fit to be trusted. The + curiosity of such is governed by pride, which is not gratified but by + whispering about a secret till it becomes public, in order to show either + their consequence, or their sagacity. It is so in every case. What man or + woman, who is covetous of power, or of making a right use of it? But in + the ladies of my family you may confide. It is their ambition to think of + you as one of themselves. Renew but your consent to pass to the world, for + the sake of your uncle's expedient, and for the prevention of mischief, as + a lady some time married. Lady Betty may be acquainted with the naked + truth; and you may, (as she hopes you will,) accompany her to her seat; + and, if it must be so, consider me as in a state of penitence or + probation, to be accepted or rejected, as I may appear to deserve. + </p> + <p> + The Captain again clapt his hands on his breast, and declared, upon his + honour, that this was a proposal that, were the case that of his own + daughter, and she were not resolved upon immediate marriage, (which yet he + thought by far the more eligible choice,) he should be very much concerned + were she to refuse it. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Were I with Mr. Lovelace's relations, and to pass as his wife to the + world, I could not have any choice. And how could he be then in a state of + probation?—O Mr. Tomlinson, you are too much his friend to see into + his drift. + </p> + <p> + Capt. His friend, Madam, as I said before, as I am your's and your + uncle's, for the sake of a general reconciliation, which must begin with a + better understanding between yourselves. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Only, my dearest life, resolve to attend the arrival and visit of + Lady Betty; and permit her to arbitrate between us. + </p> + <p> + Capt. There can be no harm in that, Madam. You can suffer no inconvenience + from that. If Mr. Lovelace's offence be such, that a woman of Lady Betty's + character judges it to be unpardonable, why then— + </p> + <p> + Cl. [Interrupting; and to me,] If I am not invaded by you, Sir; if I am, + (as I ought to be,) my own mistress, I think to stay here, in this honest + house, [and then had I an eye-beam, as the Captain calls it, flashed at + me,] till I receive a letter from Miss Howe. That, I hope, will be in a + day or two. If in that time the ladies come whom you expect, and if they + are desirous to see the creature whom you have made unhappy, I shall know + whether I can or cannot receive their visit. + </p> + <p> + She turned short to the door, and, retiring, went up stairs to her + chamber. + </p> + <p> + O Sir, said the Captain, as soon as she was gone, what an angel of a woman + is this! I have been, and I am a very wicked man. But if any thing should + happen amiss to this admirable lady, through my means, I shall have more + cause for self-reproach than for all the bad actions of my life put + together. + </p> + <p> + And his eyes glistened. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can happen amiss, thou sorrowful dog!—What can happen amiss? + Are we to form our opinion of things by the romantic notions of a girl, + who supposes that to be the greatest which is the slightest of evils? Have + I not told thee our whole story? Has she not broken her promise? Did I not + generously spare her, when in my power? I was decent, though I had her at + such advantage.—Greater liberties have I taken with girls of + character at a common romping 'bout, and all has been laughed off, and + handkerchief and head-clothes adjusted, and petticoats shaken to rights, + in my presence. Never man, in the like circumstances, and resolved as I + was resolved, goaded on as I was goaded on, as well by her own sex, as by + the impulses of a violent passion, was ever so decent. Yet what mercy does + she show me? + </p> + <p> + Now, Jack, this pitiful dog was such another unfortunate one as thyself + —his arguments serving to confirm me in the very purpose he brought + them to prevail upon me to give up. Had he left me to myself, to the + tenderness of my own nature, moved as I was when the lady withdrew, and + had he set down, and made odious faces, and said nothing—it is very + possible that I should have taken the chair over against him, which she + had quitted, and have cried and blubbered with him for half an hour + together. But the varlet to argue with me!—to pretend to convince a + man, who knows in is heart that he is doing a wrong thing!—He must + needs think that this would put me upon trying what I could say for + myself; and when the extended compunction can be carried from the heart to + the lips it must evaporate in words. + </p> + <p> + Thou, perhaps, in this place, wouldst have urged the same pleas that he + urged. What I answered to him therefore may do for thee, and spare thee + the trouble of writing, and me of reading, a good deal of nonsense. + </p> + <p> + Capt. You were pleased to tell me, Sir, that you only proposed to try her + virtue; and that you believed you should actually marry her. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. So I shall, and cannot help it. I have no doubt but I shall. And as + to trying her, is she not now in the height of her trial? Have I not + reason to think that she is coming about? Is she not now yielding up her + resentment for an attempt which she thinks she ought not to forgive? And + if she do, may she not forgive the last attempt?—Can she, in a word, + resent that more than she does this? Women often, for their own sakes, + will keep the last secret; but will ostentatiously din the ears of gods + and men with their clamours upon a successless offer. It was my folly, my + weakness, that I gave her not more cause for this her unsparing violence! + </p> + <p> + Capt. O Sir, you will never be able to subdue this lady without force. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Well, then, puppy, must I not endeavour to find a proper time and + place— + </p> + <p> + Capt. Forgive me, Sir! but can you think of force to such a fine creature? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Force, indeed, I abhor the thought of; and for what, thinkest thou, + have I taken all the pains I have taken, and engaged so many persons in my + cause, but to avoid the necessity of violent compulsion? But yet, + imaginest thou that I expect direct consent from such a lover of forms as + this lady is known to be! Let me tell thee, M'Donald, that thy master, + Belford, has urged on thy side of the question all that thou canst urge. + Must I have every sorry fellow's conscience to pacify, as well as my own?—By + my soul, Patrick, she has a friend here, [clapping my hand on my breast,] + that pleads for her with greater and more irresistible eloquence than all + the men in the world can plead for her. And had she not escaped me—And + yet how have I answered my first design of trying her,* and in her the + virtue of the most virtuous of the sex?— Perseverance, man!—Perseverance!—What! + wouldst thou have me decline a trial that they make for the honour of a + sex we all so dearly love? + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter XVIII. + </p> + <p> + Then, Sir, you have no thoughts—no thoughts—[looking still + more sorrowfully,] of marrying this wonderful lady? + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes, Patrick, but I have. But let me, first, to gratify my pride, + bring down her's. Let me see, that she loves me well enough to forgive me + for my own sake. Has she not heretofore lamented that she staid not in her + father's house, though the consequence must have been, if she had, that + she would have been the wife of the odious Solmes? If now she be brought + to consent to be mine, seest thou not that the reconciliation with her + detested relations is the inducement, as it always was, and not love of + me?—Neither her virtue nor her love can be established but upon full + trial; the last trial—but if her resistance and resentment be such + as hitherto I have reason to expect they will be, and if I find in that + resentment less of hatred of me than of the fact, then shall she be mine + in her own way. Then, hateful as is the life of shackles to me, will I + marry her. + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, I can only say, that I am dough in your hands, to be moulded + into what shape you please. But if, as I said before— + </p> + <p> + None of thy Said-before's, Patrick. I remember all thou saidst—and I + know all thou canst farther say—thou art only, Pontius Pilate like, + washing thine own hands, (don't I know thee?) that thou mayest have + something to silence thy conscience with by loading me. But we have gone + too far to recede. Are not all our engines in readiness? Dry up thy + sorrowful eyes. Let unconcern and heart's ease once more take possession + of thy solemn features. Thou hast hitherto performed extremely well.— + Shame not thy past by thy future behaviour; and a rich reward awaits thee. + If thou art dough be dough; and I slapt him on the shoulder— Resume + but thy former shape, and I'll be answerable for the event. + </p> + <p> + He bowed assent and compliance; went to the glass; and began to untwist + and unsadden his features; pulled his wig right, as if that, as well as + his head and heart had been discomposed by his compunction, and once more + became old Lucifer's and mine. + </p> + <p> + But didst thou think, Jack, that there was so much—What-shall-I-call-it? + —in this Tomlinson? Didst thou imagine that such a fellow as that + had bowels? That nature, so long dead and buried in him, as to all humane + effects, should thus revive and exert itself?—Yet why do I ask this + question of thee, who, to my equal surprise, hast shown, on the same + occasion, the like compassionate sensibilities? + </p> + <p> + As to Tomlinson, it looks as if poverty had made him the wicked fellow he + is; as plenty and wantonness have made us what we are. Necessity, after + all, is the test of principle. But what is there in this dull word, or + thing, called HONESTY, that even I, who cannot in my present views be + served by it, cannot help thinking even the accidental emanations of it + amiable in Tomlinson, though demonstrated in a female case; and judging + better of him for being capable of such? + </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> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + This debate between the Captain and me was hardly over when the three + women, led by Miss Rawlins, entered, hoping no intrusion, but very + desirous, the maiden said, to know if we were likely to accommodate. + </p> + <p> + O yes, I hope so. You know, Ladies, that your sex must, in these cases, + preserve their forms. They must be courted to comply with their own + happiness. A lucky expedient we have hit upon. The uncle has his doubts of + our marriage. He cannot believe, nor will any body, that it is possible + that a man so much in love, the lady so desirable— + </p> + <p> + They all took the hint. It was a very extraordinary case, the two widows + allowed. Women, Jack, [as I believe I have observed* elsewhere,] have a + high opinion of what they can do for us. Miss Rawlins desired, if I + pleased, to let them know the expedient; and looked as if there was no + need to proceed in the rest of my speech. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I begged that they would not let the lady know I had told them what this + expedient was; and they should hear it. + </p> + <p> + They promised. + </p> + <p> + It was this: that to oblige and satisfy Mr. Harlowe, the ceremony was to + be again performed. He was to be privately present, and to give his niece + to me with his own hands—and she was retired to consider of it. + </p> + <p> + Thou seest, Jack, that I have provided an excuse, to save my veracity to + the women here, in case I should incline to marriage, and she should + choose to have Miss Rawlins's assistance at the ceremony. Nor doubted I to + bring my fair-one to save my credit on this occasion, if I could get her + to consent to be mine. + </p> + <p> + A charming expedient! cried the widow. They were all three ready to clap + their hands for joy upon it. Women love to be married twice at least, + Jack; though not indeed to the same man. And all blessed the + reconciliatory scheme and the proposer of it; and, supposing it came from + the Captain, they looked at him with pleasure, while his face shined with + the applause implied. He should think himself very happy, if he could + bring about a general reconciliation; and he flourished with his head like + my man Will. on his victory over old Grimes; bridling by turns, like Miss + Rawlins in the height of a prudish fit. + </p> + <p> + But now it was time for the Captain to think of returning to town, having + a great deal of business to dispatch before morning. Nor was he certain + that he should be able again to attend us at Hampstead before he went + home. + </p> + <p> + And yet, as every thing was drawing towards a crisis, I did not intend + that he should leave Hampstead that night. + </p> + <p> + A message to the above effect was carried up, at my desire, by Mrs. Moore; + with the Captain's compliments, and to know if she had any commands for + him to her uncle? + </p> + <p> + But I hinted to the women, that it would be proper for them to withdraw, + if the lady did come down; lest she should not care to be so free before + them on a proposal so particular, as she would be to us, who had offered + it to her consideration. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moore brought down word that the lady was following her. They all + three withdrew; and she entered at one door, as they went out at the + other. + </p> + <p> + The Captain accosted her, repeating the contents of the message sent up; + and desired that she would give him her commands in relation to the report + he was to make to her uncle Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + I know not what to say, Sir, nor what I would have you to say, to my uncle—perhaps + you may have business in town—perhaps you need not see my uncle till + I have heard from Miss Howe; till after Lady Betty—I don't know what + to say. + </p> + <p> + I implored the return of that value which she had so generously + acknowledged once to have had for me. I presumed, I said, to flatter + myself that Lady Betty, in her own person, and in the name of all my + family, would be able, on my promised reformation and contrition, to + prevail in my favour, especially as our prospects in other respects with + regard to the general reconciliation wished for were so happy. But let me + owe to your own generosity, my dearest creature, said I, rather than to + the mediation of any person on earth, the forgiveness I am an humble + suitor for. How much more agreeable to yourself, O best beloved of my + soul, must it be, as well as obliging to me, that your first personal + knowledge of my relations, and theirs of you, (for they will not be denied + attending you) should not be begun in recriminations, in appeals? As Lady + Betty will be here soon, it will not perhaps be possible for you to + receive her visit with a brow absolutely serene. But, dearest, dearest + creature, I beseech you, let the misunderstanding pass as a slight one—as + a misunderstanding cleared up. Appeals give pride and superiority to the + persons appealed to, and are apt to lessen the appellant, not only in + their eye, but in her own. Exalt not into judges those who are prepared to + take lessons and instructions from you. The individuals of my family are + as proud as I am said to be. But they will cheerfully resign to your + superiority—you will be the first woman of the family in every one's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + This might have done with any other woman in the world but this; and yet + she is the only woman in the world of whom it may with truth be said. But + thus, angrily, did she disclaim the compliment. + </p> + <p> + Yes, indeed!—[and there she stopt a moment, her sweet bosom heaving + with a noble disdain]—cheated out of myself from the very first!—A + fugitive from my own family! Renounced by my relations! Insulted by you!—Laying + humble claim to the protection of your's!—Is not this the light in + which I must appear not only to the ladies of your family, but to all the + world?—Think you, Sir, that in these circumstances, or even had I + been in the happiest, that I could be affected by this plea of undeserved + superiority?—You are a stranger to the mind of Clarissa Harlowe, if + you think her capable of so poor and so undue a pride! + </p> + <p> + She went from us to the farther end of the room. + </p> + <p> + The Captain was again affected—Excellent creature! I called her; + and, reverently approaching her, urged farther the plea I had last made. + </p> + <p> + It is but lately, said I, that the opinions of my relations have been more + than indifferent to me, whether good or bad; and it is for your sake, more + than for my own, that I now wish to stand well with my whole family. The + principal motive of Lady Betty's coming up, is, to purchase presents for + the whole family to make on the happy occasion. + </p> + <p> + This consideration, turning to the Captain, with so noble-minded a dear + creature, I know, can have no weight; only as it will show their value and + respect. But what a damp would their worthy hearts receive, were they to + find their admired new niece, as they now think her, not only not their + niece, but capable of renouncing me for ever! They love me. They all love + me. I have been guilty of carelessness and levity to them, indeed; but of + carelessness and levity only; and that owing to a pride that has set me + above meanness, though it has not done every thing for me. + </p> + <p> + My whole family will be guaranties for my good behaviour to this dear + creature, their niece, their daughter, their cousin, their friend, their + chosen companion and directress, all in one.—Upon my soul, Captain, + we may, we must be happy. + </p> + <p> + But, dearest, dearest creature, let me on my knees [and down I dropt, her + face all the time turned half from me, as she stood at the window, her + handkerchief often at her eyes] on my knees let me plead your promised + forgiveness; and let us not appear to them, on their visit, thus unhappy + with each other. Lady Betty, the next hour that she sees you, will write + her opinion of you, and of the likelihood of our future happiness, to Lady + Sarah her sister, a weak-spirited woman, who now hopes to supply to + herself, in my bride, the lost daughter she still mourns for! + </p> + <p> + The Captain then joined in, and re-urged her uncle's hopes and + expectations, and his resolution effectually to set about the general + reconciliation; the mischief that might be prevented; and the certainty + that there was that her uncle might be prevailed on to give her to me with + his own hand, if she made it her choice to wait for his coming up. but, + for his own part, he humbly advised, and fervently pressed her, to make + the very next day, or Monday at farthest, my happy day. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, dearest lady, said he, and I could kneel to you myself, + [bending his knee,] though I have no interest in my earnestness, but the + pleasure I should have to be able to serve you all, to beseech you to give + me an opportunity to assure your uncle that I myself saw with my own eyes + the happy knot tied!—All misunderstandings, all doubts, all + diffidences, will then be at an end. + </p> + <p> + And what, Madam, rejoined I, still kneeling, can there be in your new + measures, be they what they will, that can so happily, so reputably, I + will presume to say, for all around, obviate the present difficulties? + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe herself, if she love you, and if she love your fame, Madam, + urged the Captain, his knee still bent, must congratulate you on such + happy conclusion. + </p> + <p> + Then turning her face, she saw the Captain half-kneeling—O Sir! O + Capt. Tomlinson!—Why this undue condescension? extending her hand to + his elbow, to raise him. I cannot bear this!—Then casting her eye on + me, Rise, Mr. Lovelace—kneel not to the poor creature whom you have + insulted!—How cruel the occasion for it!—And how mean the + submission! + </p> + <p> + Not mean to such an angel!—Nor can I rise but to be forgiven! + </p> + <p> + The Captain then re-urged once more the day—he was amazed, he said, + if she ever valued me— + </p> + <p> + O Captain Tomlinson, interrupted she, how much are you the friend of this + man!—If I had never valued him, he never would have had it in his + power to insult me; nor could I, if I had never regarded him, have taken + to heart as I do, the insult (execrable as it was) so undeservedly, so + ungratefully given—but let him retire—for a moment let him + retire. + </p> + <p> + I was more than half afraid to trust the Captain by himself with her. He + gave me a sign that I might depend upon him. And then I took out of my + pocket his letter to me, and Lady Betty's and Miss Montague's, and Lord + M.'s letters (which last she had not then seen); and giving them to him, + procure for me, in the first place, Mr. Tomlinson, a re-perusal of these + three letters; and of this from Lord M. And I beseech you, my dearest + life, give them due consideration: and let me on my return find the happy + effects of that consideration. + </p> + <p> + I then withdrew; with slow feet, however, and a misgiving heart. + </p> + <p> + The Captain insisted upon this re-perusal previously to what she had to + say to him, as he tells me. She complied, but with some difficulty; as if + she were afraid of being softened in my favour. + </p> + <p> + She lamented her unhappy situation; destitute of friends, and not knowing + whither to go, or what to do. She asked questions, sifting-questions, + about her uncle, about her family, and after what he knew of Mr. Hickman's + fruitless application in her favour. + </p> + <p> + He was well prepared in this particular; for I had shown him the letters + and extracts of letter of Miss Howe, which I had so happily come at.* + Might she be assured, she asked him, that her brother, with Singleton and + Solmes, were actually in quest of her? + </p> + <p> + * Vol. IV. Letter XLIV. + </p> + <p> + He averred that they were. + </p> + <p> + She asked, if he thought I had hopes of prevailing on her to go back to + town? + </p> + <p> + He was sure I had not. + </p> + <p> + Was he really of opinion that Lady Betty would pay her a visit? + </p> + <p> + He had no doubt of it. + </p> + <p> + But, Sir; but, Captain Tomlinson—[impatiently turning from him, and + again to him] I know not what to do—but were I your daughter, Sir—were + you my own father—Alas! Sir, I have neither father nor mother! + </p> + <p> + He turned from her and wiped his eyes. + </p> + <p> + O Sir! you have humanity! [She wept too.] There are some men in the world, + thank Heaven, that can be moved. O Sir, I have met with hard- hearted men—in + my own family too—or I could not have been so unhappy as I am—but + I make every body unhappy! + </p> + <p> + His eyes no doubt ran over.— + </p> + <p> + Dearest Madam! Heavenly Lady!—Who can—who can—hesitated + and blubbered the dog, as he owned. And indeed I heard some part of what + passed, though they both talked lower than I wished; for, from the nature + of their conversation, there was no room for altitudes. + </p> + <p> + THEM, and BOTH, and THEY!—How it goes against me to include this + angel of a creature, and any man on earth but myself, in one world! + </p> + <p> + Capt. Who can forbear being affected?—But, Madam, you can be no + other man's. + </p> + <p> + Cl. Nor would I be. But he is so sunk with me!—To fire the house!—An + artifice so vile!—contrived for the worst of purposes!—Would + you have a daughter of your's—But what would I say?—Yet you + see that I have nobody in whom I can confide!—Mr. Lovelace is a + vindictive man!—He could not love the creature whom he could insult + as he has insulted me! + </p> + <p> + She paused. And then resuming—in short, I never, never can forgive + him, nor he me.—Do you think, Sir, I never would have gone so far as + I have gone, if I had intended ever to draw with him in one yoke?—I + left behind me such a letter— + </p> + <p> + You know, Madam, he has acknowledged the justice of your resentment— + </p> + <p> + O Sir, he can acknowledge, and he can retract, fifty times a day—but + do not think I am trifling with myself and you, and want to be persuaded + to forgive him, and to be his. There is not a creature of my sex, who + would have been more explicit, and more frank, than I would have been, + from the moment I intended to be his, had I a heart like my own to deal + with. I was always above reserve, Sir, I will presume to say, where I had + no cause of doubt. Mr. Lovelace's conduct has made me appear, perhaps, + over-nice, when my heart wanted to be encouraged and assured! and when, if + it had been so, my whole behaviour would have been governed by it. + </p> + <p> + She stopt; her handkerchief at her eyes. + </p> + <p> + I inquired after the minutest part of her behaviour, as well as after her + words. I love, thou knowest, to trace human nature, and more particularly + female nature, through its most secret recesses. + </p> + <p> + The pitiful fellow was lost in silent admiration of her. And thus the + noble creature proceeded. + </p> + <p> + It is the fate in unequal unions, that tolerable creatures, through them, + frequently incur censure, when more happily yoked they might be entitled + to praise. And shall I not shun a union with a man, that might lead into + errors a creature who flatters herself that she is blest with an + inclination to be good; and who wishes to make every one happy with whom + she has any connection, even to her very servants? + </p> + <p> + She paused, taking a turn about the room—the fellow, devil fetch + him, a mummy all the time:—Then proceeded. + </p> + <p> + Formerly, indeed, I hoped to be an humble mean of reforming him. But, when + I have no such hope, is it right [you are a serious man, Sir] to make a + venture that shall endanger my own morals? + </p> + <p> + Still silent was the varlet. If my advocate had nothing to say for me, + what hope of carrying my cause? + </p> + <p> + And now, Sir, what is the result of all?—It is this—that you + will endeavour, if you have that influence over him which a man of your + sense and experience ought to have, to prevail upon him, and that for his + own sake, as well as for mine, to leave me free, to pursue my own destiny. + And of this you may assure him, that I will never be any other man's. + </p> + <p> + Impossible, Madam! I know that Mr. Lovelace would not hear me with + patience on such a topic. And I do assure you that I have some spirit, and + should not care to take an indignity from him or from any man living. + </p> + <p> + She paused—then resuming—and think you, Sir, that my uncle + will refuse to receive a letter from me? [How averse, Jack, to concede a + tittle in my favour!] + </p> + <p> + I know, Madam, as matters are circumstanced, that he would not answer it. + If you please I will carry one down from you. + </p> + <p> + And will he not pursue his intentions in my favour, nor be himself + reconciled to me, except I am married? + </p> + <p> + From what your brother gives out, and effects to believe, on Mr. + Lovelace's living with you in the same— + </p> + <p> + No more, Sir—I am an unhappy creature! + </p> + <p> + He then re-urged, that it would be in her power instantly, or on the + morrow, to put an end to all her difficulties. + </p> + <p> + How can that be? said she: the license still to be obtained? The + settlements still to be signed? Miss Howe's answer to my last unreceived?—And + shall I, Sir, be in such a HURRY, as if I thought my honour in danger if I + delayed? Yet marry the man from whom only it can be endangered!—Unhappy, + thrice unhappy Clarissa Harlowe!—In how many difficulties has one + rash step involved thee!—And she turned from him and wept. + </p> + <p> + The varlet, by way of comfort, wept too: yet her tears, as he might have + observed, were tears that indicated rather a yielding than a perverse + temper. + </p> + <p> + There is a sort of stone, thou knowest, so soft in the quarry, that it may + in manner be cut with a knife; but if the opportunity not be taken, and it + is exposed to the air for any time, it will become as hard as marble, and + then with difficulty it yields to the chisel.* So this lady, not taken at + the moment, after a turn or two across the room, gained more resolution! + and then she declared, as she had done once before, that she would wait + the issue of Miss Howe's answer to the letter she had sent her from hence, + and take her measures accordingly—leaving it to him, mean time, to + make what report he thought fit to her uncle—the kindest that truth + could bear, she doubted not from Captain Tomlinson: and she should be glad + of a few lines from him, to hear what that was. + </p> + <p> + * The nature of the Bath stone, in particular. + </p> + <p> + She wished him a good journey. She complained of her head; and was about + to withdraw: but I stept round to the door next the stairs, as if I had + but just come in from the garden (which, as I entered, I called a very + pretty one) and took her reluctant hand as she was going out: My dearest + life, you are not going?—What hopes, Captain?—Have you not + some hopes to give me of pardon and reconciliation? + </p> + <p> + She said she would not be detained. But I would not let her go till she + had promised to return, when the Captain had reported to me what her + resolution was. + </p> + <p> + And when he had, I sent up and claimed her promise; and she came down + again, and repeated (as what she was determined upon) that she would wait + for Miss Howe's answers to the letter she had written to her, and take her + measures according to its contents. + </p> + <p> + I expostulated with her upon it, in the most submissive and earnest + manner. She made it necessary for me to repeat many of the pleas I had + before urged. The Captain seconded me with equal earnestness. At last, + each fell down on our knees before her. + </p> + <p> + She was distressed. I was afraid at one time she would have fainted. Yet + neither of us would rise without some concessions. I pleaded my own sake; + the Captain, his dear friend, her uncle's; and both re-pleaded the + prevention of future mischief; and the peace and happiness of the two + families. + </p> + <p> + She owned herself unequal to the conflict. She sighed. She sobbed. She + wept. She wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + I was perfectly eloquent in my vows and protestations. Her tearful eyes + were cast down upon me; a glow upon each charming cheek; a visible anguish + in every lovely feature—at last, her trembling knees seemed to fail + her, she dropt into the next chair; her charming face, as if seeking for a + hiding place (which a mother's bosom would have best supplied) sinking + upon her own shoulder. + </p> + <p> + I forgot at the instant all my vows of revenge. I threw myself at her + feet, as she sat; and, snatching her hand, pressed it with my lips. I + besought Heaven to forgive my past offences, and prosper my future hopes, + as I designed honourably and justly by the charmer of my heart, if once + more she should restore me to her favour. And I thought I felt drops of + scalding water [could they be tears?] trickle down upon my cheeks; while + my cheeks, glowing like fire, seemed to scorch up the unwelcome strangers. + </p> + <p> + I then arose, not doubting of an implied pardon in this silent distress. I + raised the Captain. I whispered him—by my soul, man, I am in + earnest. —Now talk of reconciliation, of her uncle, of the license, + of settlement —and raising my voice, If now at last, Captain + Tomlinson, my angel will give me leave to call so great a blessing mine, + it will be impossible that you should say too much to her uncle in praise + of my gratitude, my affection, and fidelity to his charming niece; and he + may begin as soon as he pleases his kind schemes for effecting the + desirable reconciliation!—Nor shall he prescribe any terms to me + that I will not comply with. + </p> + <p> + The Captain blessed me with his eyes and hands—Thank God! whispered + he. We approached the lady together. + </p> + <p> + Capt. What hinders, dearest Madam, what now hinders, but that Lady Betty + Lawrance, when she comes, may be acquainted with the truth of every thing? + And that then she may assist privately at your nuptials? I will stay till + they are celebrated; and then shall go down with the happy tidings to my + dear Mr. Harlowe. And all will, all must, soon be happy. + </p> + <p> + I must have an answer from Miss Howe, replied the still trembling fair- + one. I cannot change my new measures but with her advice. I will forfeit + all my hopes of happiness in this world, rather than forfeit her good + opinion, and that she should think me giddy, unsteady, or precipitate. All + I shall further say on the present subject is this, that when I have her + answer to what I have written, I will write to her the whole state of the + matter, as I shall then be enabled to do. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Then must I despair for ever!—O Captain Tomlinson, Miss Howe + hates me!—Miss Howe— + </p> + <p> + Capt. Not so, perhaps—when Miss Howe knows your concern for having + offended, she will never advise that, with such prospects of general + reconciliation, the hopes of so many considerable persons in both families + should be frustrated. Some little time, as this excellent lady had + foreseen and hinted, will necessarily be taken up in actually procuring + the license, and in perusing and signing the settlements. In that time + Miss Howe's answer may be received; and Lady Betty may arrive; and she, no + doubt, will have weight to dissipate the lady's doubts, and to accelerate + the day. It shall be my part, mean time, to make Mr. Harlowe easy. All I + fear is from Mr. James Harlowe's quarter; and therefore all must be + conducted with prudence and privacy: as your uncle, Madam, has proposed. + </p> + <p> + She was silent, I rejoiced in her silence. The dear creature, thought I, + has actually forgiven me in her heart!—But why will she not lay me + under obligation to her, by the generosity of an explicit declaration?—And + yet, as that would not accelerate any thing, while the license is not in + my hands, she is the less to be blamed (if I do her justice) for taking + more time to descend. + </p> + <p> + I proposed, as on the morrow night, to go to town; and doubted not to + bring the license up with me on Monday morning; would she be pleased to + assure me, that she would not depart form Mrs. Moore's. + </p> + <p> + She should stay at Mrs. Moore's till she had an answer from Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + I told her that I hoped I might have her tacit consent at least to the + obtaining of the license. + </p> + <p> + I saw by the turn of her countenance that I should not have asked this + question. She was so far from tacitly consenting, that she declared to the + contrary. + </p> + <p> + As I never intended, I said, to ask her to enter again into a house, with + the people of which she was so much offended, would she be pleased to give + orders for her clothes to be brought up hither? Or should Dorcas attend + her for any of her commands on that head? + </p> + <p> + She desired not ever more to see any body belonging to that house. She + might perhaps get Mrs. Moore or Mrs. Bevis to go thither for her, and take + her keys with them. + </p> + <p> + I doubted not, I said, that Lady Betty would arrive by that time. I hoped + she had no objection to my bringing that lady and my cousin Montague up + with me? + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain, the lady can have no objection + to this. + </p> + <p> + She was still silent. So silence in this case was assent. + </p> + <p> + Would she be pleased to write to Miss Howe?— + </p> + <p> + Sir! Sir! peevishly interrupting—no more questions; no prescribing + to me —you will do as you think fit—so will I, as I please. I + own no obligation to you. Captain Tomlinson, your servant. Recommend me to + my uncle Harlowe's favour. And was going. + </p> + <p> + I took her reluctant hand, and besought her only to promise to meet me + early in the morning. + </p> + <p> + To what purpose meet you? Have you more to say than has been said? I have + had enough of vows and protestations, Mr. Lovelace. To what purpose should + I meet you to-morrow morning? + </p> + <p> + I repeated my request, and that in the most fervent manner, naming six in + the morning. + </p> + <p> + 'You know that I am always stirring before that hour, at this season of + the year,' was the half-expressed consent. + </p> + <p> + She then again recommended herself to her uncle's favour; and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + And thus, Belford, has she mended her markets, as Lord M. would say, and I + worsted mine. Miss Howe's next letter is now the hinge on which the fate + of both must turn. I shall be absolutely ruined and undone, if I cannot + intercept it. + </p> + <p> + END OF VOL.5 + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10799 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |