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diff --git a/old/11889-h/11889-h.htm b/old/11889-h/11889-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bb0b14 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11889-h/11889-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15413 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Clarissa Harlowe, Volume 7 (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> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clarissa, Volume 7, by Samuel Richardson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Clarissa, Volume 7 + +Author: Samuel Richardson + +Release Date: April 4, 2004 [EBook #11889] +[Last updated: October 16, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARISSA, VOLUME 7 *** + + + + +Produced by Julie C. Sparks and David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <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> + <h2> + By Samuel Richardson + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Volume VII. (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_4_0001"> DETAILED CONTENTS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> LETTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LETTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> LETTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LETTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> LETTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LETTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LETTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> LETTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> LETTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> LETTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> LETTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> LETTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> LETTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LETTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> LETTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> LETTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> LETTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> LETTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> LETTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> LETTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> LETTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> LETTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> LETTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> LETTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> LETTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> LETTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> LETTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> LETTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> LETTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> LETTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> LETTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> LETTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> LETTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> LETTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> LETTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> LETTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> LETTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> LETTER XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> LETTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> LETTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> LETTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> LETTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> LETTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> LETTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> LETTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> LETTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> LETTER XLIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> LETTER L </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> LETTER LI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> LETTER LII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> LETTER LIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> LETTER LIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> LETTER LV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> LETTER LVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> LETTER LVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> LETTER LVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> LETTER LIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> LETTER LX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> LETTER LXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> LETTER LXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> LETTER LXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> LETTER LXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> LETTER LXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> LETTER LXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> LETTER LXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> LETTER LXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> LETTER LXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> LETTER LXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> LETTER LXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> LETTER LXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> LETTER LXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> LETTER LXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> LETTER LXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> LETTER LXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> LETTER LXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> LETTER LXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> LETTER LXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> LETTER LXXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> LETTER LXXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> LETTER LXXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> LETTER LXXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> LETTER LXXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> LETTER LXXXV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>DETAILED CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LETTER I. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Beseeches her to take comfort, + and not despair. Is dreadfully apprehensive of her own safety from Mr. + Lovelace. An instruction to mothers. + </p> + <p> + LETTER II. Clarissa To Miss Howe.— Averse as she is to appear in a + court of justice against Lovelace, she will consent to prosecute him, + rather than Miss Howe shall live in terror. Hopes she shall not despair: + but doubts not, from so many concurrent circumstances, that the blow is + given. + </p> + <p> + LETTER III. IV. Lovelace to Belford.— Has no subject worth writing + upon now he has lost his Clarissa. Half in jest, half in earnest, [as + usual with him when vexed or disappointed,] he deplores the loss of her.—Humourous + account of Lord M., of himself, and of his two cousins Montague. His + Clarissa has made him eyeless and senseless to every other beauty. + </p> + <p> + LETTER V. VI. VII. VIII. From the same.— Lady Sarah Sadleir and + Lady Betty Lawrance arrive, and engage Lord M. and his two cousins + Montague against him, on account of his treatment of the lady. His + trial, as he calls it. After many altercations, they obtain his consent + that his two cousins should endeavour to engage Miss Howe to prevail + upon Clarissa to accept of him, on his unfeigned repentance. It is some + pleasure to him, he however rakishly reflects, to observe how placable + the ladies of his family would have been, had they met with a Lovelace. + MARRIAGE, says he, with these women, is an atonement for the worst we + can do to them; a true dramatic recompense. He makes several other + whimsical, but characteristic observations, some of which may serve as + cautions and warnings to the sex. + </p> + <p> + LETTER IX. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Has had a visit from the two + Miss Montague's. Their errand. Advises her to marry Lovelace. Reasons + for her advice. + </p> + <p> + LETTER X. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Chides her with friendly + impatience for not answering her letter. Re-urges her to marry Lovelace, + and instantly to put herself under Lady Betty's protection. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XI. Miss Howe to Miss Montague.— In a phrensy of her soul, + writes to her to demand news of her beloved friend, spirited away, as + she apprehends, by the base arts of the blackest of men. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XII. Lovelace to Belford.— The suffering innocent arrested + and confined, by the execrable woman, in a sham action. He curses + himself, and all his plots and contrivances. Conjures him to fly to her, + and clear him of this low, this dirty villany; to set her free without + conditions; and assure her, that he will never molest her more. Horribly + execrates the diabolical women, who thought to make themselves a merit + with him by this abominable insult. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XIII. XIV. Miss Montague to Miss Howe, with the particulars of + all that has happened to the lady.—Mr. Lovelace the most miserable + of men. Reflections on libertines. She, her sister, Lady Betty, Lady + Sarah, Lord M., and Lovelace himself, all sign letters to Miss Howe, + asserting his innocence of this horrid insult, and imploring her + continued interest in his and their favour with Clarissa. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XV. Belford to Lovelace.— Particulars of the vile arrest. + Insolent visits of the wicked women to her. Her unexampled meekness and + patience. Her fortitude. He admires it, and prefers it to the false + courage of men of their class. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVI. From the same.— Goes to the officer's house. A + description of the horrid prison-room, and of the suffering lady on her + knees in one corner of it. Her great and moving behaviour. Breaks off, + and sends away his letter, on purpose to harass him by suspense. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVII. Lovelace to Belford.— Curses him for his tormenting + abruption. Clarissa never suffered half what he suffers. That sex made + to bear pain. Conjures him to hasten to him the rest of his + soul-harrowing intelligence. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XVIII. Belford to Lovelace.— His farther proceedings. The + lady returns to her lodgings at Smith's. Distinction between revenge and + resentment in her character. Sends her, from the vile women, all her + apparel, as Lovelace had desired. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XIX. Belford to Lovelace.— Rejoices to find he can feel. + Will endeavour from time to time to add to his remorse. Insists upon his + promise not to molest the lady. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XX. From the same.— Describes her lodgings, and gives a + character of the people, and of the good widow Lovick. She is so ill, + that they provide her an honest nurse, and send for Mr. Goddard, a + worthy apothecary. Substance of a letter to Miss Howe, dictated by the + lady. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXI. From the same.— Admitted to the lady's presence. What + passed on the occasion. Really believes that she still loves him. Has a + reverence, and even a holy love for her. Astonished that Lovelace could + hold his purposes against such an angel of a woman. Condemns him for not + timely exerting himself to save her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXII. From the same.— Dr. H. called in. Not having a single + guinea to give him, she accepts of three from Mrs. Lovick on a diamond + ring. Her dutiful reasons for admitting the doctor's visit. His engaging + and gentlemanly behaviour. She resolves to part with some of her richest + apparel. Her reasons. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIII. Lovelace to Belford.— Raves at him. For what. + Rallies him, with his usual gayety, on several passages in his letters. + Reasons why Clarissa's heart cannot be broken by what she has suffered. + Passionate girls easily subdued. Sedate ones hardly ever pardon. He has + some retrograde motions: yet is in earnest to marry Clarissa. Gravely + concludes, that a person intending to marry should never be a rake. His + gay resolutions. Renews, however, his promises not to molest her. A + charming encouragement for a man of intrigue, when a woman is known not + to love her husband. Advantages which men have over women, when + disappointed in love. He knows she will permit him to make her amends, + after she has plagued him heartily. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIV. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Is shocked at receiving a + letter from her written by another hand. Tenderly consoles her, and + inveighs against Lovelace. Re-urges her, however, to marry him. Her + mother absolutely of her opinion. Praises Mr. Hickman's sister, who, + with her Lord, had paid her a visit. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXV. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— Her condition greatly mended. + In what particulars. Her mind begins to strengthen; and she finds + herself at times superior to her calamities. In what light she wishes + her to think of her. Desires her to love her still, but with a weaning + love. She is not now what she was when they were inseparable lovers. + Their views must now be different. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVI. Belford to Lovelace.— A consuming malady, and a + consuming mistress, as in Belton's case, dreadful things to struggle + with. Farther reflections on the life of keeping. The poor man afraid to + enter into his own house. Belford undertakes his cause. Instinct in + brutes equivalent to natural affection in men. Story of the ancient + Sarmatians, and their slaves. Reflects on the lives of rakes, and + free-livers; and how ready they are in sickness to run away from one + another. Picture of a rake on a sick bed. Will marry and desert them + all. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVII. From the same.— The lady parts with some of her + laces. Instances of the worthiness of Dr. H. and Mr. Goddard. He + severely reflects upon Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVIII. Lovelace to Belford.— Has an interview with Mr. + Hickman. On what occasion. He endeavours to disconcert him, by assurance + and ridicule; but finds him to behave with spirit. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXIX. From the same.— Rallies him on his intentional + reformation. Ascribes the lady's ill health entirely to the arrest, (in + which, he says, he had no hand,) and to her relations' cruelty. Makes + light of her selling her clothes and laces. Touches upon Belton's case. + Distinguishes between companionship and friendship. How he purposes to + rid Belton of his Thomasine and her cubs. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXX. Belford to Lovelace.— The lady has written to her + sister, to obtain a revocation of her father's malediction. Defends her + parents. He pleads with the utmost earnestness to her for his friend. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXI. From the same.— Can hardly forbear prostration to + her. Tenders himself as her banker. Conversation on this subject. + Admires her magnanimity. No wonder that a virtue so solidly based could + baffle all his arts. Other instances of her greatness of mind. Mr. Smith + and his wife invite him, and beg of her to dine with them, it being + their wedding day. Her affecting behaviour on the occasion. She briefly, + and with her usual noble simplicity, relates to them the particulars of + her life and misfortunes. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXII. Lovelace to Belford.— Ridicules him on his address + to the lady as her banker, and on his aspirations and prostrations. + Wants to come at letters she has written. Puts him upon engaging Mrs. + Lovick to bring this about. Weight that proselytes have with the good + people that convert them. Reasons for it. He has hopes still of the + lady's favour; and why. Never adored her so much as now. Is about to go + to a ball at Colonel Ambrose's. Who to be there. Censures affectation + and finery in the dress of men; and particularly with a view to exalt + himself, ridicules Belford on this subject. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. Sharp letters that pass + between Miss Howe and Arabella Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXVIII. Mrs. Harlowe to Mrs. Howe.— Sent with copies of + the five foregoing letters. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXXIX. Mrs. Howe to Mrs. Harlowe. In answer. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XL. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Desires an answer to her former + letters for her to communicate to Miss Montague. Farther enforces her + own and her mother's opinion, that she should marry Lovelace. Is obliged + by her mother to go to a ball at Colonel Ambrose's. Fervent professions + of her friendly love. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— Her noble reasons for refusing + Lovelace. Desires her to communicate extracts from this letter to the + Ladies of his family. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLII. From the same.— Begs, for her sake, that she will + forbear treating her relations with freedom and asperity. Endeavours, in + her usual dutiful manner, to defend their conduct towards her. Presses + her to make Mr. Hickman happy. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLIII. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.— Excuses her long silence. + Her family, who were intending to favour her, incensed against her by + means of Miss Howe's warm letters to her sister. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLIV. Clarissa to Mrs. Norton.— Is concerned that Miss Howe + should write about her to her friends. Gives her a narrative of all that + has befallen her since her last. Her truly christian frame of mind. + Makes reflections worthy of herself, upon her present situation, and + upon her hopes, with regard to a happy futurity. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLV. Copy of Clarissa's humble letter to her sister, imploring + the revocation of her father's heavy malediction. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLVI. Belford to Lovelace.— Defends the lady from the + perverseness he (Lovelace) imputes to her on parting with some of her + apparel. Poor Belton's miserable state both of body and mind. + Observations on the friendship of libertines. Admires the noble + simplicity, and natural ease and dignity of style, of the sacred books. + Expatiates upon the pragmatical folly of man. Those who know least, the + greatest scoffers. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLVII. From the same.— The lady parts with one of her best + suits of clothes. Reflections upon such purchasers as take advantage of + the necessities of their fellow-creatures. Self an odious devil. A + visible alteration in the lady for the worse. She gives him all Mr. + Lovelace's letters. He (Belford) takes this opportunity to plead for + him. Mr. Hickman comes to visit her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLVIII. From the same.— Breakfasts next morning with the + lady and Mr. Hickman. His advantageous opinion of that gentleman. + Censures the conceited pride and narrow-mindedness of rakes and + libertines. Tender and affecting parting between Mr. Hickman and the + lady. Observations in praise of intellectual friendship. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XLIX. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— Has no notion of coldness in + friendship. Is not a daughter of those whom she so freely treats. Delays + giving the desired negative to the solicitation of the ladies of + Lovelace's family; and why. Has been exceedingly fluttered by the + appearance of Lovelace at the ball given by Colonel Ambrose. What passed + on that occasion. Her mother and all the ladies of their select + acquaintance of opinion that she should accept of him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER L. Clarissa. In answer.— Chides her for suspending the + decisive negative. Were she sure she should live many years, she would + not have Mr. Lovelace. Censures of the world to be but of second regard + with any body. Method as to devotion and exercise she was in when so + cruelly arrested. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— Designed to be communicated to + Mr. Lovelace's relations. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LII. LIII. Lovelace to Belford.— Two letters entirely + characteristic yet intermingled with lessons and observations not + unworthy of a better character. He has great hopes from Miss Howe's + mediation in his favour. Picture of two rakes turned Hermits, in their + penitentials. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LIV. Miss Howe to Clarissa.— She now greatly approves of + her rejection of Lovelace. Admires the noble example she has given her + sex of a passion conquered. Is sorry she wrote to Arabella: but cannot + imitate her in her self-accusations, and acquittals of others who are + all in fault. Her notions of a husband's prerogative. Hopes she is + employing herself in penning down the particulars of her tragical story. + Use to be made of it to the advantage of her sex. Her mother earnest + about it. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LV. Miss Howe to Miss Montague.— With Clarissa's Letter, + No. XLI. of this volume. Her own sentiments of the villanous treatment + her beloved friend had met with from their kinsman. Prays for vengeance + upon him, if she do not recover. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LVI. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.— Acquaints her with some of + their movements at Harlowe-place. Almost wishes she would marry the + wicked man; and why. Useful reflections on what has befallen a young + lady so universally beloved. Must try to move her mother in her favour. + But by what means, will not tell her, unless she succeed. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LVII. Mrs. Norton to Mrs. Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LVIII. Mrs. Harlowe's affecting answer. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LIX. Clarissa to Mrs. Norton.— Earnestly begs, for reasons + equally generous and dutiful, that she may be left to her own way of + working with her relations. Has received her sister's answer to her + letter, No. XLV. of this volume. She tries to find an excuse for the + severity of it, though greatly affected by it. Other affecting and + dutiful reflections. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LX. Her sister's cruel letter, mentioned in the preceding. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXI. Clarissa to Miss Howe.— Is pleased that she now at + last approved of her rejecting Lovelace. Desires her to be comforted as + to her. Promises that she will not run away from life. Hopes she has + already got above the shock given her by the ill treatment she has met + with from Lovelace. Has had an escape, rather than a loss. Impossible, + were it not for the outrage, that she could have been happy with him; + and why. Sets in the most affecting, the most dutiful and generous + lights, the grief of her father, mother, and other relations, on her + account. Had begun the particulars of her tragical story; but would fain + avoid proceeding with it; and why. Opens her design to make Mr. Belford + her executor, and gives her reasons for it. Her father having withdrawn + his malediction, she now has only a last blessing to supplicate for. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXII. Clarissa to her sister.— Beseeching her, in the most + humble and earnest manner, to procure her a last blessing. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXIII. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.— Mr. Brand to be sent up to + inquire after her way of life and health. His pedantic character. + Believes they will withhold any favour till they hear his report. Doubts + not that matters will soon take a happy turn. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXIV. Clarissa. In answer.— The grace she asks for is only + a blessing to die with, not to live with. Their favour, if they design + her any, may come too late. Doubts her mother can do nothing for her of + herself. A strong confederacy against a poor girl, their daughter, + sister, niece. Her brother perhaps got it renewed before he went to + Edinburgh. He needed not, says she: his work is done, and more than + done. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXV. Lovelace to Belford.— Is mortified at receiving + letters of rejection. Charlotte writes to the lady in his favour, in the + name of all the family. Every body approves of what she has written; and + he has great hopes from it. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXVI. Copy of Miss Montague's letter to Clarissa.— + Beseeching her, in the names of all their noble family, to receive + Lovelace to favour. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXVII. Belford to Lovelace.— Proposes to put Belton's + sister into possession of Belton's house for him. The lady visibly + altered for the worse. Again insists upon his promise not to molest her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXVIII. Clarissa to Miss Montague.— In answer to her's, No. + LXVI. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXIX. Belford to Lovelace.— Has just now received a letter + from the lady, which he encloses, requesting extracts form the letters + written to him by Mr. Lovelace within a particular period. The reasons + which determine him to oblige her. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXX. Belford to Clarissa.— With the requested extracts; and + a plea in his friend's favour. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXI. Clarissa to Belford.— Thanks him for his + communications. Requests that he will be her executor; and gives her + reasons for her choice of him for that solemn office. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXII. Belford to Clarissa.— His cheerful acceptance of the + trust. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXIII. Belford to Lovelace.— Brief account of the extracts + delivered to the lady. Tells him of her appointing him her executor. The + melancholy pleasure he shall have in the perusal of her papers. Much + more lively and affecting, says he, must be the style of those who write + in the height of a present distress than the dry, narrative, unanimated + style of a person relating difficulties surmounted, can be. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXIV. Arabella to Clarissa.— In answer to her letter, No. + LXII., requesting a last blessing. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXV. Clarissa to her mother.— Written in the fervour of + her spirit, yet with the deepest humility, and on her knees, imploring + her blessing, and her father's, as what will sprinkle comfort through + her last hours. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXVI. Miss Montague to Clarissa.— In reply to her's, No. + LXVIII.—All their family love and admire her. Their kinsman has + not one friend among them. Beseech her to oblige them with the + acceptance of an annuity, and the first payment now sent her, at least + till she can be put in possession of her own estate. This letter signed + by Lord M., Lady Sarah, Lady Betty, and her sister and self. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXVII. Lovelace to Belford.— Raves against the lady for + rejecting him; yet adores her the more for it. Has one half of the house + to himself, and that the best; having forbid Lord M. and the ladies to + see him, in return for their forbidding him to see them. Incensed + against Belford for the extracts he has promised from his letters. Is + piqued to death at her proud refusal of him. Curses the vile women, and + their potions. But for these latter, the majesty of her virtue, he says, + would have saved her, as it did once before. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXVIII. Lovelace to Belford.— He shall not, he tells him, + be her executor. Nobody shall be any thing to her but himself. What a + reprobation of a man, who was once so dear to her! Farther instances of + his raving impatience. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXIX. Lovelace to Clarissa.— A letter full of penitence, + promises, praises, and admiration of her virtue. Has no hopes of + escaping from perdition but by her precepts and example. All he begs for + the present is a few lines to encourage him to hope for forgiveness, if + he can justify his vows by his future conduct. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXX. Clarissa to Lord M. and the ladies of the house.— + Thankfully declines accepting of their offered bounty. Pleads for their + being reconciled to their kinsman, for reasons respecting her own peace. + Hopes that they may be enabled to rejoice in the effects of his + reformation many years after she is laid low and forgotten. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXXI. Belford to Lovelace.— Brief account of his expelling + Thomasine, her sons, and her gallant. Farther reflections on keeping. A + state not calculated for a sick bed. Gives a short journal of what had + passed relating to the lady since his last. Mr. Brand inquires after her + character and behaviour of Mrs. Smith. His starchedness, conceit, and + pedantry. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXXII. From the same.— Farther particulars relating to the + lady. Power left her by her grandfather's will. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXXIII. Clarissa to Lovelace.— In answer to his letter, + No. LXXIX. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXXIV. Her uncle Harlowe's cruel answer, in answer to her's to + her mother, No. LXXV. Meditation stitched to it with black silk. + </p> + <p> + LETTER LXXXV. Clarissa to her uncle Harlowe. In reply. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE HISTORY OF CLARISSA HARLOWE + </h2> + <h3> + VOLUME SEVEN + </h3> + <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 I + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WED. NIGHT, JULY 12. + </p> + <p> + I write, my dearest creature, I cannot but write, to express my concern on + your dejection. Let me beseech you, my charming excellence, let me beseech + you, not to give way to it. + </p> + <p> + Comfort yourself, on the contrary, in the triumphs of a virtue unsullied; + a will wholly faultless. Who could have withstood the trials you have + surmounted?—Your cousin Morden will soon come. He will see justice + done you, I make no doubt, as well with regard to what concerns your + person as your estate. And many happy days may you yet see; and much good + may you still do, if you will not heighten unavoidable accidents into + guilty despondency. + </p> + <p> + But why, why, my dear, this pining solicitude continued after a + reconciliation with relations as unworthy as implacable; whose wills are + governed by an all-grasping brother, who finds his account in keeping the + breach open? On this over-solicitude it is now plain to me, that the + vilest of men built all his schemes. He saw that you thirsted after it + beyond all reason for hope. The view, the hope, I own, extremely + desirable, had your family been Christians: or even had they been Pagans + who had had bowels. + </p> + <p> + I shall send this short letter [I am obliged to make it a short one] by + young Rogers, as we call him; the fellow I sent to you to Hampstead; an + innocent, though pragmatical rustic. Admit him, I pray you, into you + presence, that he may report to me how you look, and how you are. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman should attend you; but I apprehend, that all his motions, and + mine own too, are watched by the execrable wretch: and indeed his are by + an agent of mine; for I own, that I am so apprehensive of his plots and + revenge, now I know that he has intercepted my vehement letters against + him, that he is the subject of my dreams, as well as of my waking fears. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + My mother, at my earnest importunity, has just given me leave to write, + and to receive your letters—but fastened this condition upon the + concession, that your's must be under cover to Mr. Hickman, [this is a + view, I suppose, to give him consideration with me]; and upon this further + consideration, that she is to see all we write.—'When girls are set + upon a point,' she told one who told me again, 'it is better for a mother, + if possible, to make herself of their party, than to oppose them; since + there will be then hopes that she will still hold the reins in her own + hands.' + </p> + <p> + Pray let me know what the people are with whom you lodge?—Shall I + send Mrs. Townsend to direct you to lodgings either more safe or more + convenient for you? + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to write to me by Rogers; who will wait on you for your answer, + at your own time. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest creature. Comfort yourself, as you would in the like + unhappy circumstances comfort + </p> + <p> + Your own ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER II + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, JULY 13. + </p> + <p> + I am extremely concerned, my dear Miss Howe, for being primarily the + occasion of the apprehensions you have of this wicked man's vindictive + attempts. What a wide-spreading error is mine!—— + </p> + <p> + If I find that he has set foot on any machination against you, or against + Mr. Hickman, I do assure you I will consent to prosecute him, although I + were sure I could not survive my first appearance at the bar he should be + arraigned at. + </p> + <p> + I own the justice of your mother's arguments on that subject; but must + say, that I think there are circumstances in my particular case, which + will excuse me, although on a slighter occasion than that you are + apprehensive of I should decline to appear against him. I have said, that + I may one day enter more particularly into this argument. + </p> + <p> + Your messenger has now indeed seen me. I talked with him on the cheat put + upon him at Hampstead: and am sorry to have reason to say, that had not + the poor young man been very simple, and very self-sufficient, he had not + been so grossly deluded. Mrs. Bevis has the same plea to make for herself. + A good-natured, thoughtless woman; not used to converse with so vile and + so specious a deceiver as him, who made his advantage of both these + shallow creatures. + </p> + <p> + I think I cannot be more private than where I am. I hope I am safe. All + the risque I run, is in going out, and returning from morning-prayers; + which I have two or three times ventured to do; once at Lincoln's-inn + chapel, at eleven; once at St. Dunstan's, Fleet-street, at seven in the + morning,* in a chair both times; and twice, at six in the morning, at the + neighbouring church in Covent-garden. The wicked wretches I have escaped + from, will not, I hope, come to church to look for me; especially at so + early prayers; and I have fixed upon the privatest pew in the latter + church to hide myself in; and perhaps I may lay out a little matter in an + ordinary gown, by way of disguise; my face half hid by my mob.—I am + very careless, my dear, of my appearance now. Neat and clean takes up the + whole of my attention. + </p> + <p> + * The seven-o'clock prayers at St. Dunstan's have been since discontinued. + </p> + <p> + The man's name at whose house I belong, is Smith—a glove maker, as + well as seller. His wife is the shop-keeper. A dealer also in stockings, + ribbands, snuff, and perfumes. A matron-like woman, plain-hearted, and + prudent. The husband an honest, industrious man. And they live in good + understanding with each other: a proof with me that their hearts are + right; for where a married couple live together upon ill terms, it is a + sign, I think, that each knows something amiss of the other, either with + regard to temper or morals, which if the world knew as well as themselves, + it would perhaps as little like them as such people like each other. Happy + the marriage, where neither man nor wife has any wilful or premeditated + evil in their general conduct to reproach the other with!— for even + persons who have bad hearts will have a veneration for those who have good + ones. + </p> + <p> + Two neat rooms, with plain, but clean furniture, on the first floor, are + mine; one they call the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + There is, up another pair of stairs, a very worthy widow-lodger, Mrs. + Lovick by name; who, although of low fortunes, is much respected, as Mrs. + Smith assures me, by people of condition of her acquaintance, for her + piety, prudence, and understanding. With her I propose to be well + acquainted. + </p> + <p> + I thank you, my dear, for your kind, your seasonable advice and + consolation. I hope I shall have more grace given me than to despond, in + the religious sense of the word: especially as I can apply to myself the + comfort you give me, that neither my will, nor my inconsiderateness, has + contributed to my calamity. But, nevertheless, the irreconcilableness of + my relations, whom I love with an unabated reverence; my apprehensions of + fresh violences, [this wicked man, I doubt, will not let me rest]; my + being destitute of protection; my youth, my sex, my unacquaintedness with + the world, subjecting me to insults; my reflections on the scandal I have + given, added to the sense of the indignities I have received from a man, + of whom I deserved not ill; all together will undoubtedly bring on the + effect that cannot be undesirable to me.—The situation; and, as I + presume to imagine, from principles which I hope will, in due time, and by + due reflection, set me above the sense of all worldly disappointments. + </p> + <p> + At present, my head is much disordered. I have not indeed enjoyed it with + any degree of clearness, since the violence done to that, and to my heart + too, by the wicked arts of the abandoned creatures I was cast among. + </p> + <p> + I must have more conflicts. At times I find myself not subdued enough to + my condition. I will welcome those conflicts as they come, as probationary + ones.—But yet my father's malediction—the temporary part so + strangely and so literally completed!—I cannot, however, think, when + my mind is strongest—But what is the story of Isaac, and Jacob, and + Esau, and of Rebekah's cheating the latter of the blessing designed for + him, (in favour of Jacob,) given us for in the 27th chapter of Genesis? My + father used, I remember, to enforce the doctrine deducible from it, on his + children, by many arguments. At least, therefore, he must believe there is + great weight in the curse he has announced; and shall I not be solicitous + to get it revoked, that he may not hereafter be grieved, for my sake, that + he did not revoke it? + </p> + <p> + All I will at present add, are my thanks to your mother for her indulgence + to us; due compliments to Mr. Hickman; and my request, that you will + believe me to be, to my last hour, and beyond it, if possible, my beloved + friend, and my dearer self (for what is now myself!) + </p> + <p> + Your obliged and affectionate CLARISSA 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 III + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, JULY 7. + </p> + <p> + I have three of thy letters at once before me to answer; in each of which + thou complainest of my silence; and in one of them tellest me, that thou + canst not live without I scribble to thee every day, or every other day at + least. + </p> + <p> + Why, then, die, Jack, if thou wilt. What heart, thinkest thou, can I have + to write, when I have lost the only subject worth writing upon? + </p> + <p> + Help me again to my angel, to my CLARISSA; and thou shalt have a letter + from me, or writing at least part of a letter, every hour. All that the + charmer of my heart shall say, that will I put down. Every motion, every + air of her beloved person, every look, will I try to describe; and when + she is silent, I will endeavour to tell thee her thoughts, either what + they are, or what I would have them to be—so that, having her, I + shall never want a subject. Having lost her, my whole soul is a blank: the + whole creation round me, the elements above, beneath, and every thing I + behold, (for nothing can I enjoy,) are a blank without her. + </p> + <p> + Oh! return, return, thou only charmer of my soul! return to thy adoring + Lovelace! What is the light, what the air, what the town, what the + country, what's any thing, without thee? Light, air, joy, harmony, in my + notion, are but parts of thee; and could they be all expressed in one word, + that word would be CLARISSA. + </p> + <p> + O my beloved CLARISSA, return thou then; once more return to bless thy + LOVELACE, who now, by the loss of thee, knows the value of the jewel he + has slighted; and rises every morning but to curse the sun that shines + upon every body but him! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Well, but, Jack, 'tis a surprising thing to me, that the dear fugitive + cannot be met with; cannot be heard of. She is so poor a plotter, (for + plotting is not her talent,) that I am confident, had I been at liberty, I + should have found her out before now; although the different emissaries I + have employed about town, round the adjacent villages, and in Miss Howe's + vicinage, have hitherto failed of success. But my Lord continues so weak + and low-spirited, that there is no getting from him. I would not disoblige + a man whom I think in danger still: for would his gout, now it has got him + down, but give him, like a fair boxer, the rising-blow, all would be over + with him. And here [pox of his fondness for me! it happens at a very bad + time] he makes me sit hours together entertaining him with my rogueries: + (a pretty amusement for a sick man!) and yet, whenever he has the gout, he + prays night and morning with his chaplain. But what must his notions of + religion be, who after he has nosed and mumbled over his responses, can + give a sigh or groan of satisfaction, as if he thought he had made up with + Heaven; and return with a new appetite to my stories? —encouraging + them, by shaking his sides with laughing at them, and calling me a sad + fellow, in such an accent as shows he takes no small delight in his + kinsman. + </p> + <p> + The old peer has been a sinner in his day, and suffers for it now: a + sneaking sinner, sliding, rather than rushing into vices, for fear of his + reputation.—Paying for what he never had, and never daring to rise + to the joy of an enterprise at first hand, which could bring him within + view of a tilting, or of the honour of being considered as a principal man + in a court of justice. + </p> + <p> + To see such an old Trojan as this, just dropping into the grave, which I + hoped ere this would have been dug, and filled up with him; crying out + with pain, and grunting with weakness; yet in the same moment crack his + leathern face into an horrible laugh, and call a young sinner charming + varlet, encoreing him, as formerly he used to do to the Italian eunuchs; + what a preposterous, what an unnatural adherence to old habits! + </p> + <p> + My two cousins are generally present when I entertain, as the old peer + calls it. Those stories must drag horribly, that have not more hearers and + applauders than relaters. + </p> + <p> + Applauders! + </p> + <p> + Ay, Belford, applauders, repeat I; for although these girls pretend to + blame me sometimes for the facts, they praise my manner, my invention, my + intrepidity.—Besides, what other people call blame, that call I + praise: I ever did; and so I very early discharged shame, that cold-water + damper to an enterprising spirit. + </p> + <p> + These are smart girls; they have life and wit; and yesterday, upon + Charlotte's raving against me upon a related enterprise, I told her, that + I had had in debate several times, whether she were or were not too near + of kin to me: and that it was once a moot point with me, whether I could + not love her dearly for a month or so: and perhaps it was well for her, + that another pretty little puss started up, and diverted me, just as I was + entering upon the course. + </p> + <p> + They all three held up their hands and eyes at once. But I observed that, + though the girls exclaimed against me, they were not so angry at this + plain speaking as I have found my beloved upon hints so dark that I have + wondered at her quick apprehension. + </p> + <p> + I told Charlotte, that, grave as she pretended to be in her smiling + resentments on this declaration, I was sure I should not have been put to + the expense of above two or three stratagems, (for nobody admired a good + invention more than she,) could I but have disentangled her conscience + from the embarrasses of consanguinity. + </p> + <p> + She pretended to be highly displeased: so did her sister for her. I told + her, she seemed as much in earnest as if she had thought me so; and dared + the trial. Plain words, I said, in these cases, were more shocking to + their sex than gradatim actions. And I bid Patty not be displeased at my + distinguishing her sister; since I had a great respect for her likewise. + </p> + <p> + An Italian air, in my usual careless way, a half-struggled-for kiss from + me, and a shrug of the shoulder, by way of admiration, from each pretty + cousin, and sad, sad fellow, from the old peer, attended with a + side-shaking laugh, made us all friends. + </p> + <p> + There, Jack!—Wilt thou, or wilt thou not, take this for a letter? + there's quantity, I am sure.—How have I filled a sheet (not a + short-hand one indeed) without a subject! My fellow shall take this; for + he is going to town. And if thou canst think tolerably of such execrable + stuff, I will send thee another. + </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 IV + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SIX, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 8. + </p> + <p> + Have I nothing new, nothing diverting, in my whimsical way, thou askest, + in one of thy three letters before me, to entertain thee with?—And + thou tellest me, that, when I have least to narrate, to speak, in the + Scottish phrase, I am most diverting. A pretty compliment, either to + thyself, or to me. To both indeed!—a sign that thou hast as frothy a + heart as I a head. But canst thou suppose that this admirable woman is not + all, is not every thing with me? Yet I dread to think of her too; for + detection of all my contrivances, I doubt, must come next. + </p> + <p> + The old peer is also full of Miss Harlowe: and so are my cousins. He hopes + I will not be such a dog [there's a specimen of his peer-like dialect] as + to think of doing dishonourably by a woman of so much merit, beauty, and + fortune; and he says of so good a family. But I tell him, that this is a + string he must not touch: that it is a very tender point: in short, is my + sore place; and that I am afraid he would handle it too roughly, were I to + put myself in the power of so ungentle an operator. + </p> + <p> + He shakes his crazy head. He thinks all is not as it should be between us; + longs to have me present her to him as my wife; and often tells me what + great things he will do, additional to his former proposals; and what + presents he will make on the birth of the first child. But I hope the + whole of his estate will be in my hands before such an event takes place. + No harm in hoping, Jack! Lord M. says, were it not for hope, the heart + would break. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Eight o'clock at Midsummer, and these lazy varletesses (in full health) + not come down yet to breakfast!—What a confounded indecency in young + ladies, to let a rake know that they love their beds so dearly, and, at + the same time, where to have them! But I'll punish them—they shall + breakfast with their old uncle, and yawn at one another as if for a wager; + while I drive my phaëton to Colonel Ambroses's, who yesterday gave me an + invitation both to breakfast and dine, on account of two Yorkshire nieces, + celebrated toasts, who have been with him this fortnight past; and who, he + says, want to see me. So, Jack, all women do not run away from me, thank + Heaven!—I wish I could have leave of my heart, since the dear + fugitive is so ungrateful, to drive her out of it with another beauty. But + who can supplant her? Who can be admitted to a place in it after Miss + Clarissa Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + At my return, if I can find a subject, I will scribble on, to oblige thee. + </p> + <p> + My phaëton's ready. My cousins send me word they are just coming down: so + in spite I'll be gone. + </p> + <p> + SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + I did stay to dine with the Colonel, and his lady, and nieces: but I could + not pass the afternoon with them, for the heart of me. There was enough in + the persons and faces of the two young ladies to set me upon comparisons. + Particular features held my attention for a few moments: but these served + but to whet my impatience to find the charmer of my soul; who, for person, + for air, for mind, never had any equal. My heart recoiled and sickened + upon comparing minds and conversation. Pert wit, a too-studied desire to + please; each in high good humour with herself; an open-mouth affectation + in both, to show white teeth, as if the principal excellence; and to + invite amorous familiarity, by the promise of a sweet breath; at the same + time reflecting tacitly upon breaths arrogantly implied to be less pure. + </p> + <p> + Once I could have borne them. + </p> + <p> + They seemed to be disappointed that I was so soon able to leave them. Yet + have I not at present so much vanity [my Clarissa has cured me of my + vanity] as to attribute their disappointment so much to particular liking + of me, as to their own self-admiration. They looked upon me as a + connoisseur in beauty. They would have been proud of engaging my + attention, as such: but so affected, so flimsy-witted, mere skin-deep + beauties!—They had looked no farther into themselves than what their + glasses were flattering-glasses too; for I thought them passive-faced, and + spiritless; with eyes, however, upon the hunt for conquests, and + bespeaking the attention of others, in order to countenance their own. + ——I believe I could, with a little pains, have given them life + and soul, and to every feature of their faces sparkling information—but + my Clarissa!—O Belford, my Clarissa has made me eyeless and + senseless to every other beauty!—Do thou find her for me, as a + subject worthy of my pen, or this shall be the last from + </p> + <p> + Thy LOVELACE. + </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 V + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SUNDAY NIGHT, JULY 9. + </p> + <p> + Now, Jack, have I a subject with a vengeance. I am in the very height of + my trial for all my sins to my beloved fugitive. For here to-day, at about + five o'clock, arrived Lady Sarah Sadleir and Lady Betty Lawrance, each in + her chariot-and-six. Dowagers love equipage; and these cannot travel ten + miles without a sett, and half a dozen horsemen. + </p> + <p> + My time had hung heavy upon my hands; and so I went to church after + dinner. Why may not handsome fellows, thought I, like to be looked at, as + well as handsome wenches? I fell in, when service was over, with Major + Warneton; and so came not home till after six; and was surprised, at + entering the court-yard here, to find it littered with equipages and + servants. I was sure the owners of them came for no good to me. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah, I soon found, was raised to this visit by Lady Betty; who has + health enough to allow her to look out to herself, and out of her own + affairs, for business. Yet congratulation to Lord M. on his amendment, + [spiteful devils on both accounts!] was the avowed errand. But coming in + my absence, I was their principal subject; and they had opportunity to set + each other's heart against me. + </p> + <p> + Simon Parsons hinted this to me, as I passed by the steward's office; for + it seems they talked loud; and he was making up some accounts with old + Pritchard. + </p> + <p> + However, I hastened to pay my duty to them—other people not + performing theirs, is no excuse for the neglect of our own, you know. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And now I enter upon my TRIAL. +</pre> + <p> + With horrible grave faces was I received. The two antiquities only bowed + their tabby heads; making longer faces than ordinary; and all the old + lines appearing strong in their furrowed foreheads and fallen cheeks; How + do you, Cousin? And how do you, Mr. Lovelace? looking all round at one + another, as who should say, do you speak first: and, do you: for they + seemed resolved to lose no time. + </p> + <p> + I had nothing for it, but an air as manly, as theirs was womanly. Your + servant, Madam, to Lady Betty; and, Your servant, Madam, I am glad to see + you abroad, to Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + I took my seat. Lord M. looked horribly glum; his fingers claspt, and + turning round and round, under and over, his but just disgouted thumb; his + sallow face, and goggling eyes, on his two kinswomen, by turns; but not + once deigning to look upon me. + </p> + <p> + Then I began to think of the laudanum, and wet cloth, I told thee of long + ago; and to call myself in question for a tenderness of heart that will + never do me good. + </p> + <p> + At last, Mr. Lovelace!——Cousin Lovelace!——Hem!—Hem!—I + am sorry, very sorry, hesitated Lady Sarah, that there is no hope of your + ever taking up—— + </p> + <p> + What's the matter now, Madam? + </p> + <p> + The matter now!——Why Lady Betty has two letters from Miss + Harlowe, which have told us what's the matter——Are all women + alike with you? + </p> + <p> + Yes; I could have answered; 'bating the difference which pride makes. + </p> + <p> + Then they all chorus'd upon me—Such a character as Miss Harlowe's! + cried one——A lady of so much generosity and good sense! + Another—How charmingly she writes! the two maiden monkeys, looking + at her find handwriting: her perfections my crimes. What can you expect + will be the end of these things! cried Lady Sarah—d——d, + d——d doings! vociferated the Peer, shaking his loose-fleshe'd + wabbling chaps, which hung on his shoulders like an old cow's dewlap. + </p> + <p> + For my part, I hardly knew whether to sing or say what I had to reply to + these all-at-once attacks upon me! Fair and softly, Ladies—one at a + time, I beseech you. I am not to be hunted down without being heard, I + hope. Pray let me see these letters. I beg you will let me see them. + </p> + <p> + There they are:—that's the first—read it out, if you can. + </p> + <p> + I opened a letter from my charmer, dated Thursday, June 29, our + wedding-day, that was to be, and written to Lady Betty Lawrance. By the + contents, to my great joy, I find the dear creature is alive and well, and + in charming spirits. But the direction where to send an answer to was so + scratched out that I could not read it; which afflicted me much. + </p> + <p> + She puts three questions in it to Lady Betty. + </p> + <p> + 1st. About a letter of her's, dated June 7, congratulating me on my + nuptials, and which I was so good as to save Lady Betty the trouble of + writing——A very civil thing of me, I think! + </p> + <p> + Again—'Whether she and one of her nieces Montague were to go to + town, on an old chancery suit?'—And, 'Whether they actually did go + to town accordingly, and to Hampstead afterwards?' and, 'Whether they + brought to town from thence the young creature whom they visited?' was the + subject of the second and third questions. + </p> + <p> + A little inquisitive, dear rogue! and what did she expect to be the better + for these questions?——But curiosity, d——d + curiosity, is the itch of the sex—yet when didst thou know it turned + to their benefit?— For they seldom inquire, but what they fear—and + the proverb, as my Lord has it, says, It comes with a fear. That is, I + suppose, what they fear generally happens, because there is generally + occasion for the fear. + </p> + <p> + Curiosity indeed she avows to be her only motive for these + interrogatories: for, though she says her Ladyship may suppose the + questions are not asked for good to me, yet the answer can do me no harm, + nor her good, only to give her to understand, whether I have told her a + parcel of d——d lyes; that's the plain English of her inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Well, Madam, said I, with as much philosophy as I could assume; and may I + ask—Pray, what was your Ladyship's answer? + </p> + <p> + There's a copy of it, tossing it to me, very disrespectfully. + </p> + <p> + This answer was dated July 1. A very kind and complaisant one to the lady, + but very so-so to her poor kinsman—That people can give up their own + flesh and blood with so much ease!—She tells her 'how proud all our + family would be of an alliance with such an excellence.' She does me + justice in saying how much I adore her, as an angel of a woman; and begs + of her, for I know not how many sakes, besides my soul's sake, 'that she + will be so good as to have me for a husband:' and answers—thou wilt + guess how—to the lady's questions. + </p> + <p> + Well, Madam; and pray, may I be favoured with the lady's other letter? I + presume it is in reply to your's. + </p> + <p> + It is, said the Peer: but, Sir, let me ask you a few questions, before you + read it—give me the letter, Lady Betty. + </p> + <p> + There it is, my Lord. + </p> + <p> + Then on went the spectacles, and his head moved to the lines—a + charming pretty hand!—I have often heard that this lady is a genius. + </p> + <p> + And so, Jack, repeating my Lord's wise comments and questions will let + thee into the contents of this merciless letter. + </p> + <p> + 'Monday, July 3,' [reads my Lord.]—Let me see!—that was last + Monday; no longer ago! 'Monday, July the third—Madam—I cannot + excuse myself'—um, um, um, um, um, um, [humming inarticulately, and + skipping,]—'I must own to you, Madam, that the honour of being + related'—— + </p> + <p> + Off went the spectacles—Now, tell me, Sir-r, Has not this lady lost + all the friends she had in the world for your sake? + </p> + <p> + She has very implacable friends, my Lord: we all know that. + </p> + <p> + But has she not lost them all for your sake?—Tell me that. + </p> + <p> + I believe so, my Lord. + </p> + <p> + Well then!—I am glad thou art not so graceless as to deny that. + </p> + <p> + On went the spectacles again—'I must own to you, Madam, that the + honour of being related to ladies as eminent for their virtue as for their + descent.'—Very pretty, truly! saith my Lord, repeating, 'as eminent + for their virtue as for their descent, was, at first, no small inducement + with me to lend an ear to Mr. Lovelace's address.' + </p> + <p> + There is dignity, born-dignity, in this lady, cried my Lord. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. She would have been a grace to our family. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. Indeed she would. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. To a royal family, I will venture to say. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. Then what a devil—- + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Please to read on, my Lord. It cannot be her letter, if it does not + make you admire her more and more as you read. Cousin Charlotte, Cousin + Patty, pray attend——Read on, my Lord. + </p> + <p> + Miss Charlotte. Amazing fortitude! + </p> + <p> + Miss Patty only lifted up her dove's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. [Reading.] 'And the rather, as I was determined, had it come to + effect, to do every thing in my power to deserve your favourable opinion.' + </p> + <p> + Then again they chorus'd upon me! + </p> + <p> + A blessed time of it, poor I!—I had nothing for it but impudence! + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Pray read on, my Lord—I told you how you would all admire her + ——or, shall I read? + </p> + <p> + Lord M. D——d assurance! [Then reading.] 'I had another motive, + which I knew would of itself give me merit with your whole family: [they + were all ear:] a presumptuous one; a punishably-presumptuous one, as it + has proved: in the hope that I might be an humble mean, in the hand of + Providence, to reclaim a man who had, as I thought, good sense enough at + bottom to be reclaimed; or at least gratitude enough to acknowledge the + intended obligation, whether the generous hope were to succeed or not.' + —Excellent young creature!— + </p> + <p> + Excellent young creature! echoed the Ladies, with their handkerchiefs at + their eyes, attended with music. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. By my soul, Miss Patty, you weep in the wrong place: you shall + never go with me to a tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. Hardened wretch. + </p> + <p> + His Lordship had pulled off his spectacles to wipe them. His eyes were + misty; and he thought the fault in his spectacles. + </p> + <p> + I saw they were all cocked and primed—to be sure that is a very + pretty sentence, said I——that is the excellency of this lady, + that in every line, as she writes on, she improves upon herself. Pray, my + Lord, proceed—I know her style; the next sentence will still rise + upon us. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. D——d fellow! [Again saddling, and reading.] 'But I + have been most egregiously mistaken in Mr. Lovelace!' [Then they all + clamoured again.]—'The only man, I persuade myself'—— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Ladies may persuade themselves to any thing: but how can she answer + for what other men would or would not have done in the same circumstances? + </p> + <p> + I was forced to say any thing to stifle their outcries. Pox take ye + altogether, thought I; as if I had not vexation enough in losing her! + </p> + <p> + Lord M. [Reading.] 'The only man, I persuade myself, pretending to be a + gentleman, in whom I could have been so much mistaken.' + </p> + <p> + They were all beginning again—Pray, my Lord, proceed!—Hear, + hear—pray, Ladies, hear!—Now, my Lord, be pleased to proceed. + The Ladies are silent. + </p> + <p> + So they were; lost in admiration of me, hands and eyes uplifted. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. I will, to thy confusion; for he had looked over the next + sentence. + </p> + <p> + What wretches, Belford, what spiteful wretches, are poor mortals!—So + rejoiced to sting one another! to see each other stung! + </p> + <p> + Lord M. [Reading.] 'For while I was endeavouring to save a drowning + wretch, I have been, not accidentally, but premeditatedly, and of set + purpose, drawn in after him.'—What say you to that, Sir-r? + </p> + <p> + Lady S. | Ay, Sir, what say you to this? Lady B. | + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Say! Why I say it is a very pretty metaphor, if it would but hold.—But, + if you please, my Lord, read on. Let me hear what is further said, and I + will speak to it all together. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. I will. 'And he has had the glory to add to the list of those he + has ruined, a name that, I will be bold to say, would not have disparaged + his own.' + </p> + <p> + They all looked at me, as expecting me to speak. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Be pleased to proceed, my Lord: I will speak to this by-and-by— + How came she to know I kept a list?—I will speak to this by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. [Reading on.] 'And this, Madam, by means that would shock humanity + to be made acquainted with.' + </p> + <p> + Then again, in a hurry, off went the spectacles. + </p> + <p> + This was a plaguy stroke upon me. I thought myself an oak in impudence; + but, by my troth, this almost felled me. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. What say you to this, SIR-R! + </p> + <p> + Remember, Jack, to read all their Sirs in this dialogue with a double rr, + Sir-r! denoting indignation rather than respect. + </p> + <p> + They all looked at me as if to see if I could blush. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Eyes off, my Lord!——Eyes off, Ladies! [Looking + bashfully, I believe.]—What say I to this, my Lord!—Why, I + say, that this lady has a strong manner of expressing herself!—That's + all.—There are many things that pass among lovers, which a man + cannot explain himself upon before grave people. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. Among lovers, Sir-r! But, Mr. Lovelace, can you say that this + lady behaved either like a weak, or a credulous person?—Can you say— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. I am ready to do the lady all manner of justice.—But, pray + now, Ladies, if I am to be thus interrogated, let me know the contents of + the rest of the letter, that I may be prepared for my defence, as you are + all for my arraignment. For, to be required to answer piecemeal thus, + without knowing what is to follow, is a cursed ensnaring way of + proceeding. + </p> + <p> + They gave me the letter: I read it through to myself:—and by the + repetition of what I said, thou wilt guess at the remaining contents. + </p> + <p> + You shall find, Ladies, you shall find, my Lord, that I will not spare + myself. Then holding the letter in my hand, and looking upon it, as a + lawyer upon his brief, + </p> + <p> + Miss Harlowe says, 'That when your Ladyship,' [turning to Lady Betty,] + 'shall know, that, in the progress to her ruin, wilful falsehoods, + repeated forgeries, and numberless perjuries, were not the least of my + crimes, you will judge that she can have no principles that will make her + worthy of an alliance with ladies of your's, and your noble sister's + character, if she could not, from her soul, declare, that such an alliance + can never now take place.' + </p> + <p> + Surely, Ladies, this is passion! This is not reason. If our family would + not think themselves dishonoured by my marrying a person whom I had so + treated; but, on the contrary, would rejoice that I did her this justice: + and if she has come out pure gold from the assay; and has nothing to + reproach herself with; why should it be an impeachment of her principles, + to consent that such an alliance take place? + </p> + <p> + She cannot think herself the worse, justly she cannot, for what was done + against her will. + </p> + <p> + Their countenances menaced a general uproar—but I proceeded. + </p> + <p> + Your Lordship read to us, that she had an hope, a presumptuous one: nay, a + punishably-presumptuous one, she calls it; 'that she might be a mean, in + the hand of Providence, to reclaim me; and that this, she knew, if + effected, would give her a merit with you all.' But from what would she + reclaim me?—She had heard, you'll say, (but she had only heard, at + the time she entertained that hope,) that, to express myself in the + women's dialect, I was a very wicked fellow!—Well, and what then?—Why, + truly, the very moment she was convinced, by her own experience, that the + charge against me was more than hearsay; and that, of consequence, I was a + fit subject for her generous endeavours to work upon; she would needs give + me up. Accordingly, she flies out, and declares, that the ceremony which + would repair all shall never take place!—Can this be from any other + motive than female resentment? + </p> + <p> + This brought them all upon me, as I intended it should: it was as a tub to + a whale; and after I had let them play with it a while, I claimed their + attention, and, knowing that they always loved to hear me prate, went on. + </p> + <p> + The lady, it is plain, thought, that the reclaiming of a man from bad + habits was a much easier task than, in the nature of things, it can be. + </p> + <p> + She writes, as your Lordship has read, 'That, in endeavouring to save a + drowning wretch, she had been, not accidentally, but premeditatedly, and + of set purpose, drawn in after him.' But how is this, Ladies?—You + see by her own words, that I am still far from being out of danger myself. + Had she found me, in a quagmire suppose, and I had got out of it by her + means, and left her to perish in it; that would have been a crime indeed. + —But is not the fact quite otherwise? Has she not, if her allegory + prove what she would have it prove, got out herself, and left me + floundering still deeper and deeper in?—What she should have done, + had she been in earnest to save me, was, to join her hand with mine, that + so we might by our united strength help one another out.—I held out + my hand to her, and besought her to give me her's:—But, no truly! + she was determined to get out herself as fast as she could, let me sink or + swim: refusing her assistance (against her own principles) because she saw + I wanted it.—You see, Ladies, you see, my Lord, how pretty tinkling + words run away with ears inclined to be musical. + </p> + <p> + They were all ready to exclaim again: but I went on, proleptically, as a + rhetorician would say, before their voices would break out into words. + </p> + <p> + But my fair accuser says, that, 'I have added to the list of those I have + ruined, a name that would not have disparaged my own.' It is true, I have + been gay and enterprising. It is in my constitution to be so. I know not + how I came by such a constitution: but I was never accustomed to check or + controul; that you all know. When a man finds himself hurried by passion + into a slight offence, which, however slight, will not be forgiven, he may + be made desperate: as a thief, who only intends a robbery, is often by + resistance, and for self-preservation, drawn in to commit murder. + </p> + <p> + I was a strange, a horrid wretch, with every one. But he must be a silly + fellow who has not something to say for himself, when every cause has its + black and its white side.—Westminster-hall, Jack, affords every day + as confident defences as mine. + </p> + <p> + But what right, proceeded I, has this lady to complain of me, when she as + good as says—Here, Lovelace, you have acted the part of a villain by + me! —You would repair your fault: but I won't let you, that I may + have the satisfaction of exposing you; and the pride of refusing you. + </p> + <p> + But, was that the case? Was that the case? Would I pretend to say, I would + now marry the lady, if she would have me? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You find she renounces Lady Betty's mediation—— + </p> + <p> + Lord M. [Interrupting me.] Words are wind; but deeds are mind: What + signifies your cursed quibbling, Bob?—Say plainly, if she will have + you, will you have her? Answer me, yes or no; and lead us not a wild-goose + chace after your meaning. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. She knows I would. But here, my Lord, if she thus goes on to expose + herself and me, she will make it a dishonour to us both to marry. + </p> + <p> + Charl. But how must she have been treated— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. [Interrupting her.] Why now, Cousin Charlotte, chucking her under + the chin, would you have me tell you all that has passed between the lady + and me? Would you care, had you a bold and enterprizing lover, that + proclamation should be made of every little piece of amorous roguery, that + he offered to you? + </p> + <p> + Charlotte reddened. They all began to exclaim. But I proceeded. + </p> + <p> + The lady says, 'She has been dishonoured' (devil take me, if I spare + myself!) 'by means that would shock humanity to be made acquainted with + them.' She is a very innocent lady, and may not be a judge of the means + she hints at. Over-niceness may be under-niceness: Have you not such a + proverb, my Lord?—tantamount to, One extreme produces another!——Such + a lady as this may possibly think her case more extraordinary than it is. + This I will take upon me to say, that if she has met with the only man in + the world who would have treated her, as she says I have treated her, I + have met in her with the only woman in the world who would have made such + a rout about a case that is uncommon only from the circumstances that + attend it. + </p> + <p> + This brought them all upon me; hands, eyes, voices, all lifted at once. + But my Lord M. who has in his head (the last seat of retreating lewdness) + as much wickedness as I have in my heart, was forced (upon the air I spoke + this with, and Charlotte's and all the rest reddening) to make a mouth + that was big enough to swallow up the other half of his face; crying out, + to avoid laughing, Oh! Oh!—as if under the power of a gouty twinge. + </p> + <p> + Hadst thou seen how the two tabbies and the young grimalkins looked at one + another, at my Lord, and at me, by turns, thou would have been ready to + split thy ugly face just in the middle. Thy mouth hath already done half + the work. And, after all, I found not seldom in this conversation, that my + humourous undaunted airs forced a smile into my service from the prim + mouths of the young ladies. They perhaps, had they met with such another + intrepid fellow as myself, who had first gained upon their affections, + would not have made such a rout as my beloved has done, about such an + affair as that we were assembled upon. Young ladies, as I have observed on + an hundred occasions, fear not half so much for themselves as their + mothers do for them. But here the girls were forced to put on grave airs, + and to seem angry, because the antiques made the matter of such high + importance. Yet so lightly sat anger and fellow-feeling at their hearts, + that they were forced to purse in their mouths, to suppress the smiles I + now-and-then laid out for: while the elders having had roses (that is to + say, daughters) of their own, and knowing how fond men are of a trifle, + would have been very loth to have had them nipt in the bud, without saying + to the mother of them, By your leave, Mrs. Rose-bush. + </p> + <p> + The next article of my indictment was for forgery; and for personating of + Lady Betty and my cousin Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + Two shocking charges, thou'lt say: and so they were!—The Peer was + outrageous upon the forgery charge. The Ladies vowed never to forgive the + personating part. + </p> + <p> + Not a peace-maker among them. So we all turned women, and scolded. + </p> + <p> + My Lord told me, that he believed in his conscience there was not a viler + fellow upon God's earth than me.—What signifies mincing the matter? + said he—and that it was not the first time I had forged his hand. + </p> + <p> + To this I answered, that I supposed, when the statute of Scandalum + Magnatum was framed, there were a good many in the peerage who knew they + deserved hard names; and that that law therefore was rather made to + privilege their qualities, than to whiten their characters. + </p> + <p> + He called upon me to explain myself, with a Sir-r, so pronounced, as to + show that one of the most ignominious words in our language was in his + head. + </p> + <p> + People, I said, that were fenced in by their quality, and by their years, + should not take freedoms that a man of spirit could not put up with, + unless he were able heartily to despise the insulter. + </p> + <p> + This set him in a violent passion. He would send for Pritchard instantly. + Let Pritchard be called. He would alter his will; and all he could leave + from me, he would. + </p> + <p> + Do, do, my Lord, said I: I always valued my own pleasure above your + estate. But I'll let Pritchard know, that if he draws, he shall sign and + seal. + </p> + <p> + Why, what would I do to Pritchard?—shaking his crazy head at me. + </p> + <p> + Only, what he, or any man else, writes with his pen, to despoil me of what + I think my right, he shall seal with his ears; that's all, my Lord. + </p> + <p> + Then the two Ladies interposed. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah told me, that I carried things a great way; and that neither + Lord M. nor any of them, deserved the treatment I gave them. + </p> + <p> + I said, I could not bear to be used ill by my Lord, for two reasons; + first, because I respected his Lordship above any man living; and next, + because it looked as if I were induced by selfish considerations to take + that from him, which nobody else would offer to me. + </p> + <p> + And what, returned he, shall be my inducement to take what I do at your + hands?—Hay, Sir? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Cousin Lovelace, said Lady Betty, with great gravity, we do not + any of us, as Lady Sarah says, deserve at your hands the treatment you + give us: and let me tell you, that I don't think my character and your + cousin Charlotte's ought to be prostituted, in order to ruin an innocent + lady. She must have known early the good opinion we all have of her, and + how much we wished her to be your wife. This good opinion of ours has been + an inducement to her (you see she says so) to listen to your address. And + this, with her friends' folly, has helped to throw her into your power. + How you have requited her is too apparent. It becomes the character we all + bear, to disclaim your actions by her. And let me tell you, that to have + her abused by wicked people raised up to personate us, or any of us, makes + a double call upon us to disclaim them. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Why this is talking somewhat like. I would have you all disclaim my + actions. I own I have done very vilely by this lady. One step led to + another. I am curst with an enterprizing spirit. I hate to be foiled— + </p> + <p> + Foiled! interrupted Lady Sarah. What a shame to talk at this rate!—Did + the lady set up a contention with you? All nobly sincere, and + plain-hearted, have I heard Miss Clarissa Harlowe is: above art, above + disguise; neither the coquette, nor the prude!—Poor lady! she + deserved a better fare from the man for whom she took the step which she + so freely blames! + </p> + <p> + This above half affected me.—Had this dispute been so handled by + every one, I had been ashamed to look up. I began to be bashful. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte asked if I did not still seem inclinable to do the lady justice, + if she would accept of me? It would be, she dared to say, the greatest + felicity the family could know (she would answer for one) that this fine + lady were of it. + </p> + <p> + They all declared to the same effect; and Lady Sarah put the matter home + to me. + </p> + <p> + But my Lord Marplot would have it that I could not be serious for six + minutes together. + </p> + <p> + I told his Lordship that he was mistaken; light as he thought I made of + his subject, I never knew any that went so near my heart. + </p> + <p> + Miss Patty said she was glad to hear that: and her soft eyes glistened + with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. called her sweet soul, and was ready to cry. + </p> + <p> + Not from humanity neither, Jack. This Peer has no bowels; as thou mayest + observe by this treatment of me. But when people's minds are weakened by a + sense of their own infirmities, and when they are drawing on to their + latter ends, they will be moved on the slightest occasions, whether those + offer from within or without them. And this, frequently, the unpenetrating + world, calls humanity; when all the time, in compassionating the miseries + of human nature, they are but pitying themselves; and were they in strong + health and spirits, would care as little for any body else as thou or I + do. + </p> + <p> + Here broke they off my trial for this sitting. Lady Sarah was much + fatigued. It was agreed to pursue the subject in the morning. They all, + however, retired together, and went into private conference. + </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 VI + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + The Ladies, instead of taking up the subject where we had laid it down, + must needs touch upon passage in my fair accuser's letter, which I was in + hopes they would have let rest, as we were in a tolerable way. But, truly, + they must hear all they could hear of our story, and what I had to say to + those passages, that they might be better enabled to mediate between us, + if I were really and indeed inclined to do her the hoped-for justice. + </p> + <p> + These passages were, 1st, 'That, after I had compulsorily tricked her into + the act of going off with me, I carried her to one of the worst houses in + London.' + </p> + <p> + 2nd, 'That I had made a wicked attempt upon her; in resentment of which + she fled to Hampstead privately.' + </p> + <p> + 3dly, Came the forgery, and personating charges again; and we were upon + the point of renewing out quarrel, before we could get to the next charge: + which was still worse. + </p> + <p> + For that (4thly) was 'That having betrayed her back to the vile house, I + first robbed her of her senses, and then her honour; detaining her + afterwards a prisoner there.' + </p> + <p> + Were I to tell thee the glosses I put upon these heavy charges, what would + it be, but repeat many of the extenuating arguments I have used in my + letters to thee?—Suffice it, therefore, to say, that I insisted + much, by way of palliation, on the lady's extreme niceness: on her + diffidence in my honour: on Miss Howe's contriving spirit; plots on their + parts begetting plots on mine: on the high passions of the sex. I + asserted, that my whole view, in gently restraining her, was to oblige her + to forgive me, and to marry me; and this for the honour of both families. + I boasted of my own good qualities; some of which none that knew me deny; + and to which few libertines can lay claim. + </p> + <p> + They then fell into warm admirations and praises of the lady; all of them + preparatory, as I knew, to the grand question: and thus it was introduced + by Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + We have said as much as I think we can say upon these letters of the poor + lady. To dwell upon the mischiefs that may ensue from the abuse of a + person of her rank, if all the reparation be not made that now can be + made, would perhaps be to little purpose. But you seem, Sir, still to have + a just opinion of her, as well as affection for her. Her virtue is not in + the least questionable. She could not resent as she does, had she any + thing to reproach herself with. She is, by every body's account, a fine + woman; has a good estate in her own right; is of no contemptible family; + though I think, with regard to her, they have acted as imprudently as + unworthily. For the excellency of her mind, for good economy, the common + speech of her, as the worthy Dr. Lewen once told me, is that her prudence + would enrich a poor man, and her piety reclaim a licentious one. I, who + have not been abroad twice this twelvemonth, came hither purposely, so did + Lady Betty, to see if justice may not be done her; and also whether we, + and my Lord M. (your nearest relations, Sir,) have, or have not, any + influence over you. And, for my own part, as your determination shall be + in this article, such shall be mine, with regard to the disposition of all + that is within my power. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. And mine. + </p> + <p> + And mine, said my Lord: and valiantly he swore to it. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. Far be it from me to think slightly of favours you may any of you + be glad I would deserve! but as far be it from me to enter into conditions + against my own liking, with sordid views!—As to future mischiefs, + let them come. I have not done with the Harlowes yet. They were the + aggressors; and I should be glad they would let me hear from them, in the + way they should hear from me in the like case. Perhaps I should not be + sorry to be found, rather than be obliged to seek, on this occasion. + </p> + <p> + Miss Charlotte. [Reddening.] Spoke like a man of violence, rather than a + man of reason! I hope you'll allow that, Cousin. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. Well, but since what is done, and cannot be undone, let us + think of the next best, Have you any objection against marrying Miss + Harlowe, if she will have you? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. There can possibly be but one: That she is to every body, no doubt, + as well as to Lady Betty, pursuing that maxim peculiar to herself, (and + let me tell you so it ought to be:) that what she cannot conceal from + herself, she will publish to the world. + </p> + <p> + Miss Patty. The lady, to be sure, writes this in the bitterness of her + grief, and in despair.—— + </p> + <p> + Lovel. And so when her grief is allayed; when her despairing fit is over—and + this from you, Cousin Patty!—Sweet girl! And would you, my dear, in + the like case [whispering her] have yielded to entreaty—would you + have meant no more by the like exclamations? + </p> + <p> + I had a rap with her fan, and blush; and from Lord M. a reflection, That I + turn'd into jest every thing they said. + </p> + <p> + I asked, if they thought the Harlowes deserved any consideration from me? + And whether that family would not exult over me, were I to marry their + daughter, as if I dared not to do otherwise? + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. Once I was angry with that family, as we all were. But now I + pity them; and think, that you have but too well justified the worse + treatment they gave you. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. Their family is of standing. All gentlemen of it, and rich, and + reputable. Let me tell you, that many of our coronets would be glad they + could derive their descents from no worse a stem than theirs. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. The Harlowes are a narrow-souled and implacable family. I hate + them: and, though I revere the lady, scorn all relation to them. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. I wish no worse could be said of him, who is such a scorner of + common failings in others. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. How would my sister Lovelace have reproached herself for all her + indulgent folly to this favourite boy of her's, had she lived till now, + and been present on this occasion! + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. Well, but, begging your Lordship's pardon, let us see if any + thing can be done for this poor lady. + </p> + <p> + Miss Ch. If Mr. Lovelace has nothing to object against the lady's + character, (and I presume to think he is not ashamed to do her justice, + though it may make against himself,) I cannot but see her honour and + generosity will compel from him all that we expect. If there be any + levities, any weaknesses, to be charged upon the lady, I should not open + my lips in her favour; though in private I would pity her, and deplore her + hard hap. And yet, even then, there might not want arguments, from honour + to gratitude, in so particular a case, to engage you, Sir, to make good + the vows it is plain you have broken. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. My niece Charlotte has called upon you so justly, and has put + the question to you so properly, that I cannot but wish you would speak to + it directly, and without evasion. + </p> + <p> + All in a breath then bespoke my seriousness, and my justice: and in this + manner I delivered myself, assuming an air sincerely solemn. + </p> + <p> + 'I am very sensible that the performance of the task you have put me upon + will leave me without excuse: but I will not have recourse either to + evasion or palliation. + </p> + <p> + 'As my cousin Charlotte has severely observed, I am not ashamed to do + justice to Miss Harlowe's merit. + </p> + <p> + 'I own to you all, and, what is more, with high regret, (if not with + shame, cousin Charlotte,) that I have a great deal to answer for in my + usage of this lady. The sex has not a nobler mind, nor a lovelier person + of it. And, for virtue, I could not have believed (excuse me, Ladies) that + there ever was a woman who gave, or could have given, such illustrious, + such uniform proofs of it: for, in her whole conduct, she has shown + herself to be equally above temptation and art; and, I had almost said, + human frailty. + </p> + <p> + 'The step she so freely blames herself for taking, was truly what she + calls compulsatory: for though she was provoked to think of going off with + me, she intended it not, nor was provided to do so: neither would she ever + have had the thought of it, had her relations left her free, upon her + offered composition to renounce the man she did not hate, in order to + avoid the man she did. + </p> + <p> + 'It piqued my pride, I own, that I could so little depend upon the force + of those impressions which I had the vanity to hope I had made in a heart + so delicate; and, in my worst devices against her, I encouraged myself + that I abused no confidence; for none had she in my honour. + </p> + <p> + 'The evils she has suffered, it would have been more than a miracle had + she avoided. Her watchfulness rendered more plots abortive than those + which contributed to her fall; and they were many and various. And all her + greater trials and hardships were owing to her noble resistance and just + resentment. + </p> + <p> + 'I know, proceeded I, how much I condemn myself in the justice I am doing + to this excellent creature. But yet I will do her justice, and cannot help + it if I would. And I hope this shows that I am not so totally abandoned as + I have been thought to be. + </p> + <p> + 'Indeed, with me, she has done more honour to her sex in her fall, if it + be to be called a fall, (in truth it ought not,) than ever any other could + do in her standing. + </p> + <p> + 'When, at length, I had given her watchful virtue cause of suspicion, I + was then indeed obliged to make use of power and art to prevent her + escaping from me. She then formed contrivances to elude mine; but all + her's were such as strict truth and punctilious honour would justify. She + could not stoop to deceit and falsehood, no, not to save herself. More + than once justly did she tell me, fired by conscious worthiness, that her + soul was my soul's superior!—Forgive me, Ladies, for saying, that + till I knew her, I questioned a soul in a sex, created, as I was willing + to suppose, only for temporary purposes.—It is not to be imagined + into what absurdities men of free principle run in order to justify to + themselves their free practices; and to make a religion to their minds: + and yet, in this respect, I have not been so faulty as some others. + </p> + <p> + 'No wonder that such a noble creature as this looked upon every studied + artifice as a degree of baseness not to be forgiven: no wonder that she + could so easily become averse to the man (though once she beheld him with + an eye not wholly indifferent) whom she thought capable of premeditated + guilt. Nor, give me leave, on the other hand, to say, is it to be wondered + at, that the man who found it so difficult to be forgiven for the slighter + offences, and who had not the grace to recede or repent, (made desperate,) + should be hurried on to the commission of the greater. + </p> + <p> + 'In short, Ladies, in a word, my Lord, Miss Clarissa Harlowe is an angel; + if ever there was or could be one in human nature: and is, and ever was, + as pure as an angel in her will: and this justice I must do her, although + the question, I see by every glistening eye, is ready to be asked, What + then, Lovelace, art thou?'— + </p> + <p> + Lord M. A devil!—a d——d devil! I must answer. And may + the curse of God follow you in all you undertake, if you do not make her + the best amends now in your power to make her! + </p> + <p> + Lovel. From you, my Lord, I could expect no other: but from the Ladies I + hope for less violence from the ingenuousness of my confession. + </p> + <p> + The Ladies, elder and younger, had their handkerchiefs to their eyes, at + the just testimony which I bore to the merits of this exalted creature; + and which I would make no scruple to bear at the bar of a court of + justice, were I to be called to it. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. Well, Sir, this is a noble character. If you think as you + speak, surely you cannot refuse to do the lady all the justice now in your + power to do her. + </p> + <p> + They all joined in this demand. + </p> + <p> + I pleaded, that I was sure she would not have me: that, when she had taken + a resolution, she was not to be moved. Unpersuadableness was an Harlowe + sin: that, and her name, I told them, were all she had of theirs. + </p> + <p> + All were of opinion, that she might, in her present desolate + circumstances, be brought to forgive me. Lady Sarah said, that Lady Betty + and she would endeavour to find out the noble sufferer, as they justly + called her; and would take her into their protection, and be guarantees of + the justice that I would do her; as well after marriage as before. + </p> + <p> + It was some pleasure to me, to observe the placability of these ladies of + my own family, had they, any or either of them, met with a LOVELACE. But + 'twould be hard upon us honest fellows, Jack, if all women were CLARISSAS. + </p> + <p> + Here I am obliged to break off. + </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 VII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + It is much better, Jack, to tell your own story, when it must be known, + than to have an adversary tell it for you. Conscious of this, I gave them + a particular account how urgent I had been with her to fix upon the + Thursday after I left her (it being her uncle Harlowe's anniversary + birth-day, and named to oblige her) for the private celebration; having + some days before actually procured a license, which still remained with + her. + </p> + <p> + That, not being able to prevail upon her to promise any thing, while under + a supposed restraint! I offered to leave her at full liberty, if she would + give me the least hope for that day. But neither did this offer avail me. + </p> + <p> + That this inflexibleness making me desperate, I resolved to add to my + former fault, by giving directions that she should not either go or + correspond out of the house, till I returned from M. Hall; well knowing, + that if she were at full liberty, I must for ever lose her. + </p> + <p> + That this constraint had so much incensed her, that although I wrote no + less than four different letters, I could not procure a single word in + answer; though I pressed her but for four words to signify the day and the + church. + </p> + <p> + I referred to my two cousins to vouch for me the extraordinary methods I + took to send messengers to town, though they knew not the occasion; which + now I told them was this. + </p> + <p> + I acquainted them, that I even had wrote to you, Jack, and to another + gentleman of whom I thought she had a good opinion, to attend her, in + order to press for her compliance; holding myself in readiness the last + day, at Salt-hill, to meet the messenger they should send, and proceed to + London, if his message were favourable. But that, before they could attend + her, she had found means to fly away once more: and is now, said I, + perched perhaps somewhere under Lady Betty's window at Glenham-hall; and + there, like the sweet Philomela, a thorn in her breast, warbles forth her + melancholy complaints against her barbarous Tereus. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty declared that she was not with her; nor did she know where she + was. She should be, she added, the most welcome guest to her that she ever + received. + </p> + <p> + In truth, I had a suspicion that she was already in their knowledge, and + taken into their protection; for Lady Sarah I imagined incapable of being + roused to this spirit by a letter only from Miss Harlowe, and that not + directed to herself; she being a very indolent and melancholy woman. But + her sister, I find had wrought her up to it: for Lady Betty is as + officious and managing a woman as Mrs. Howe; but of a much more generous + and noble disposition—she is my aunt, Jack. + </p> + <p> + I supposed, I said, that her Ladyship might have a private direction where + to send to her. I spoke as I wished: I would have given the world to have + heard that she was inclined to cultivate the interest of any of my family. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty answered that she had no direction but what was in the letter; + which she had scratched out, and which, it was probable, was only a + temporary one, in order to avoid me: otherwise she would hardly have + directed an answer to be left at an inn. And she was of opinion, that to + apply to Miss Howe would be the only certain way to succeed in any + application for forgiveness, would I enable that young lady to interest + herself in procuring it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Charlotte. Permit me to make a proposal.——Since we are + all of one mind, in relation to the justice due to Miss Harlowe, if Mr. + Lovelace will oblige himself to marry her, I will make Miss Howe a visit, + little as I am acquainted with her; and endeavour to engage her interest + to forward the desired reconciliation. And if this can be done, I make no + question but all may be happily accommodated; for every body knows the + love there is between Miss Harlowe and Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + MARRIAGE, with these women, thou seest, Jack, is an atonement for all we + can do to them. A true dramatic recompense! + </p> + <p> + This motion was highly approved of; and I gave my honour, as desired, in + the fullest manner they could wish. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. Well then, Cousin Charlotte, begin your treaty with Miss Howe, + out of hand. + </p> + <p> + Lady Betty. Pray do. And let Miss Harlowe be told, that I am ready to + receive her as the most welcome of guests: and I will not have her out of + my sight till the knot is tied. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah. Tell her from me, that she shall be my daughter, instead of my + poor Betsey!——And shed a tear in remembrance of her lost + daughter. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. What say you, Sir, to this? + </p> + <p> + Lovel. CONTENT, my Lord, I speak in the language of your house. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. We are not to be fooled, Nephew. No quibbling. We will have no + slur put upon us. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You shall not. And yet, I did not intend to marry, if she exceeded + the appointed Thursday. But, I think (according to her own notions) that I + have injured her beyond reparation, although I were to make her the best + of husbands; as I am resolved to be, if she will condescend, as I will + call it, to have me. And be this, Cousin Charlotte, my part of your + commission to say. + </p> + <p> + This pleased them all. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. Give me thy hand, Bob!—Thou talkest like a man of honour at + last. I hope we may depend upon what thou sayest! + </p> + <p> + The Ladies eyes put the same question to me. + </p> + <p> + Lovel. You may, my Lord—You may, Ladies—absolutely you may. + </p> + <p> + Then was the personal character of the lady, as well as her more + extraordinary talents and endowments again expatiated upon: and Miss + Patty, who had once seen her, launched out more than all the rest in her + praise. These were followed by such inquiries as are never forgotten to be + made in marriage-treaties, and which generally are the principal motives + with the sages of a family, though the least to be mentioned by the + parties themselves, and yet even by them, perhaps, the first thought of: + that is to say, inquisition into the lady's fortune; into the particulars + of the grandfather's estate; and what her father, and her single-souled + uncles, will probably do for her, if a reconciliation be effected; as, by + their means, they make no doubt but it will be between both families, if + it be not my fault. The two venerables [no longer tabbies with me now] + hinted at rich presents on their own parts; and my Lord declared that he + would make such overtures in my behalf, as should render my marriage with + Miss Harlowe the best day's work I ever made; and what, he doubted not, + would be as agreeable to that family as to myself. + </p> + <p> + Thus, at present, by a single hair, hangs over my head the matrimonial + sword. And thus ended my trial. And thus are we all friends, and Cousin + and Cousin, and Nephew and Nephew, at every word. + </p> + <p> + Did ever comedy end more happily than this long trial? + </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 VIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WEDN. JULY 12. + </p> + <p> + So, Jack, they think they have gained a mighty point. But, were I to + change my mind, were I to repent, I fancy I am safe.—And yet this + very moment it rises to my mind, that 'tis hard trusting too; for surely + there must be some embers, where there was fire so lately, that may be + stirred up to give a blaze to combustibles strewed lightly upon them. + Love, like some self-propagating plants, or roots, (which have taken + strong hold in the earth) when once got deep into the heart, is hardly + ever totally extirpated, except by matrimony indeed, which is the grave of + love, because it allows of the end of love. Then these ladies, all + advocates for herself, with herself, Miss Howe at their head, perhaps,——not + in favour to me—I don't expect that from Miss Howe—but perhaps + in favour to herself: for Miss Howe has reason to apprehend vengeance from + me, I ween. Her Hickman will be safe too, as she may think, if I marry her + beloved friend: for he has been a busy fellow, and I have long wished to + have a slap at him!—The lady's case desperate with her friends too; + and likely to be so, while single, and her character exposed to censure. + </p> + <p> + A husband is a charming cloke, a fig-leaved apron for a wife: and for a + lady to be protected in liberties, in diversions, which her heart pants + after—and all her faults, even the most criminal, were she to be + detected, to be thrown upon the husband, and the ridicule too; a charming + privilege for a wife! + </p> + <p> + But I shall have one comfort, if I marry, which pleases me not a little. + If a man's wife has a dear friend of her sex, a hundred liberties may be + taken with that friend, which could not be taken, if the single lady + (knowing what a title to freedoms marriage had given him with her friend) + was not less scrupulous with him than she ought to be as to herself. Then + there are broad freedoms (shall I call them?) that may be taken by the + husband with his wife, that may not be quite shocking, which, if the wife + bears before her friends, will serve for a lesson to that friend; and if + that friend bears to be present at them without check or bashfulness, will + show a sagacious fellow that she can bear as much herself, at proper time + and place. + </p> + <p> + Chastity, Jack, like piety, is an uniform thing. If in look, if in speech, + a girl give way to undue levity, depend upon it the devil has got one of + his cloven feet in her heart already—so, Hickman, take care of + thyself, I advise thee, whether I marry or not. + </p> + <p> + Thus, Jack, have I at once reconciled myself to all my relations—and + if the lady refuses me, thrown the fault upon her. This, I knew, would be + in my power to do at any time: and I was the more arrogant to them, in + order to heighten the merit of my compliance. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, it would be very whimsical, would it not, if all my plots + and contrivances should end in wedlock? What a punishment should this come + out to be, upon myself too, that all this while I have been plundering my + own treasury? + </p> + <p> + And then, can there be so much harm done, if it can be so easily repaired + by a few magical words; as I Robert take thee, Clarissa; and I Clarissa + take thee, Robert, with the rest of the for-better and for-worse + legerdemain, which will hocus pocus all the wrongs, the crying wrongs, + that I have done to Miss Harlowe, into acts of kindness and benevolence to + Mrs. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + But, Jack, two things I must insist upon with thee, if this is to be the + case.—Having put secrets of so high a nature between me and my + spouse into thy power, I must, for my own honour, and for the honour of my + wife and illustrious progeny, first oblige thee to give up the letters I + have so profusely scribbled to thee; and in the next place, do by thee, as + I have heard whispered in France was done by the true father of a certain + monarque; that is to say, cut thy throat, to prevent thy telling of tales. + </p> + <p> + I have found means to heighten the kind opinion my friends here have begun + to have of me, by communicating to them the contents of the four last + letters which I wrote to press my elected spouse to solemnize. My Lord + repeated one of his phrases in my favour, that he hopes it will come out, + that the devil is not quite so black as he is painted. + </p> + <p> + Now pr'ythee, dear Jack, since so many good consequences are to flow from + these our nuptials, (one of which to thyself; since the sooner thou diest, + the less thou wilt have to answer for); and that I now-and-then am apt to + believe there may be something in the old fellow's notion, who once told + us, that he who kills a man, has all that man's sins to answer for, as + well as his own, because he gave him not the time to repent of them that + Heaven designed to allow him, [a fine thing for thee, if thou consentest + to be knocked of the head; but a cursed one for the manslayer!] and since + there may be room to fear that Miss Howe will not give us her help; I + pr'ythee now exert thyself to find out my Clarissa Harlowe, that I may + make a LOVELACE of her. Set all the city bellmen, and the country criers, + for ten miles round the metropolis, at work, with their 'Oye's! and if any + man, woman, or child can give tale or tidings.' —Advertise her in + all the news-papers; and let her know, 'That if she will repair to Lady + Betty Lawrance, or to Miss Charlotte Montague, she may hear of something + greatly to her advantage.' + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + My two cousins Montague are actually to set out to-morrow to Mrs. Howe's, + to engage her vixen daughter's interest with her friend. They will flaunt + it away in a chariot-and-six, for the greater state and significance. + </p> + <p> + Confounded mortification to be reduced this low!—My pride hardly + knows how to brook it. + </p> + <p> + Lord M. has engaged the two venerables to stay here to attend the issue: + and I, standing very high at present in their good graces, am to gallant + them to Oxford, to Blenheim, and to several other places. + </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 IX + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY NIGHT, JULY 13. + </p> + <p> + Collins sets not out to-morrow. Some domestic occasion hinders him. Rogers + is but now returned from you, and cannot be well spared. Mr. Hickman is + gone upon an affair of my mother's, and has taken both his servants with + him, to do credit to his employer: so I am forced to venture this by post, + directed by your assumed name. + </p> + <p> + I am to acquaint you, that I have been favoured with a visit from Miss + Montague and her sister, in Lord M.'s chariot-and-six. My Lord's gentleman + rode here yesterday, with a request that I would receive a visit from the + two young ladies, on a very particular occasion; the greater favour if it + might be the next day. + </p> + <p> + As I had so little personal knowledge of either, I doubted not but it must + be in relation to the interests of my dear friend; and so consulting with + my mother, I sent them an invitation to favour me (because of the + distance) with their company at dinner; which they kindly accepted. + </p> + <p> + I hope, my dear, since things have been so very bad, that their errand to + me will be as agreeable to you, as any thing that can now happen. They + came in the name of Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty his two sisters, + to desire my interest to engage you to put yourself into the protection of + Lady Betty; who will not part with you till she sees all the justice done + you that now can be done. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah had not stirred out for a twelve-month before; never since she + lost her agreeable daughter whom you and I saw at Mrs. Benson's: but was + induced to take this journey by Lady Betty, purely to procure you + reparation, if possible. And their joint strength, united with Lord M.'s, + has so far succeeded, that the wretch has bound himself to them, and to + these young ladies, in the solemnest manner, to wed you in their presence, + if they can prevail upon you to give him your hand. + </p> + <p> + This consolation you may take to yourself, that all this honourable family + have a due (that is, the highest) sense of your merit, and greatly admire + you. The horrid creature has not spared himself in doing justice to your + virtue; and the young ladies gave us such an account of his confessions, + and self-condemnation, that my mother was quite charmed with you; and we + all four shed tears of joy, that there is one of our sex [I, that that one + is my dearest friend,] who has done so much honour to it, as to deserve + the exalted praises given you by a wretch so self-conceited; though pity + for the excellent creature mixed with our joy. + </p> + <p> + He promises by them to make the best of husbands; and my Lord, and Lady + Sarah, and Lady Betty, are all three to be guarantees that he will be so. + Noble settlements, noble presents, they talked of: they say, they left + Lord M. and his two sisters talking of nothing else but of those presents + and settlements, how most to do you honour, the greater in proportion for + the indignities you have suffered; and of changing of names by act of + parliament, preparative to the interest they will all join to make to get + the titles to go where the bulk of the estate must go, at my Lord's death, + which they apprehend to be nearer than they wish. Nor doubt they of a + thorough reformation in his morals, from your example and influence over + him. + </p> + <p> + I made a great many objections for you—all, I believe, that you + could have made yourself, had you been present. But I have no doubt to + advise you, my dear, (and so does my mother,) instantly to put yourself + into Lady Betty's protection, with a resolution to take the wretch for + your husband. All his future grandeur [he wants not pride] depends upon + his sincerity to you; and the young ladies vouch for the depth of his + concern for the wrongs he has done you. + </p> + <p> + All his apprehension is, in your readiness to communicate to every one, as + he fears, the evils you have suffered; which he thinks will expose you + both. But had you not revealed them to Lady Betty, you had not had so warm + a friend; since it is owing to two letters you wrote to her, that all this + good, as I hope it will prove, was brought about. But I advise you to be + more sparing in exposing what is past, whether you have thoughts of + accepting him or not: for what, my dear, can that avail now, but to give a + handle to vile wretches to triumph over your friends; since every one will + not know how much to your honour your very sufferings have been? + </p> + <p> + Your melancholy letter brought by Rogers,* with his account of your + indifferent health, confirmed to him by the woman of the house, as well as + by your looks and by your faintness while you talked with him, would have + given me inexpressible affliction, had I not been cheered by this agreeable + visit from the young ladies. I hope you will be equally so on my imparting + the subject of it to you. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter II. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, my dear, you must not hesitate. You must oblige them. The alliance + is splendid and honourable. Very few will know any thing of his brutal + baseness to you. All must end, in a little while, in a general + reconciliation; and you will be able to resume your course of doing the + good to every deserving object, which procured you blessings wherever you + set your foot. + </p> + <p> + I am concerned to find, that your father's inhuman curse affects you so + much as it does. Yet you are a noble creature to put it, as you put it— + I hope you are indeed more solicitous to get it revoked for their sakes + than for your own. It is for them to be penitent, who hurried you into + evils you could not well avoid. You are apt to judge by the unhappy event, + rather than upon the true merits of your case. Upon my honour, I think you + faultless almost in every step you have taken. What has not that + vilely-insolent and ambitious, yet stupid, brother of your's to answer + for?—that spiteful thing your sister too! + </p> + <p> + But come, since what is past cannot be helped, let us look forward. You + have now happy prospects opening to you: a family, already noble, prepared + to receive you with open arms and joyful heart; and who, by their love to + you, will teach another family (who know not what an excellence they have + confederated to persecute) how to value you. Your prudence, your piety, + will crown all. You will reclaim a wretch that, for an hundred sakes more + than for his own, one would wish to be reclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Like a traveller, who has been put out of his way, by the overflowing of + some rapid stream, you have only had the fore-right path you were in + overwhelmed. A few miles about, a day or two only lost, as I may say, and + you are in a way to recover it; and, by quickening your speed, will get up + the lost time. The hurry upon your spirits, mean time, will be all your + inconvenience; for it was not your fault you were stopped in your + progress. + </p> + <p> + Think of this, my dear; and improve upon the allegory, as you know how. If + you can, without impeding your progress, be the means of assuaging the + inundation, of bounding the waters within their natural channel, and + thereby of recovering the overwhelmed path for the sake of future + passengers who travel the same way, what a merit will your's be! + </p> + <p> + I shall impatiently expect your next letter. The young ladies proposed + that you should put yourself, if in town, or near it, into the Reading + stage-coach, which inns somewhere in Fleet-street: and, if you give notice + of the day, you will be met on the road, and that pretty early in your + journey, by some of both sexes; one of whom you won't be sorry to see. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman shall attend you at Slough; and Lady Betty herself, and one of + the Miss Montagues, with proper equipages, will be at Reading to receive + you; and carry you directly to the seat of the former: for I have + expressly stipulated, that the wretch himself shall not come into your + presence till your nuptials are to be solemnized, unless you give leave. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dearest friend. Be happy: and hundreds will then be happy of + consequence. Inexpressibly so, I am sure, will then be + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER X + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SUNDAY NIGHT, JULY 16. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST FRIEND, + </p> + <p> + Why should you permit a mind, so much devoted to your service, to labour + under such an impatience as you must know it would labour under, for want + of an answer to a letter of such consequence to you, and therefore to me, + as was mine of Thursday night?—Rogers told me, on Thursday, you were + so ill; your letter sent by him was so melancholy!—Yet you must be + ill indeed, if you could not write something to such a letter; were it but + a line, to say you would write as soon as you could. Sure you have + received it. The master of your nearest post-office will pawn his + reputation that it went safe: I gave him particular charge of it. + </p> + <p> + God send me good news of your health, of your ability to write; and then I + will chide you—indeed I will—as I never yet did chide you. + </p> + <p> + I suppose your excuse will be, that the subject required consideration— + Lord! my dear, so it might; but you have so right a mind, and the matter + in question is so obvious, that you could not want half an hour to + determine.—Then you intended, probably, to wait Collins's call for + your letter as on to-morrow!—Suppose something were to happen, as it + did on Friday, that he should not be able to go to town to-morrow?—How, + child, could you serve me so!—I know not how to leave off scolding + you! + </p> + <p> + Dear, honest Collins, make haste: he will: he will. He sets out, and + travels all night: for I have told him, that the dearest friend I have in + the world has it in her own choice to be happy, and to make me so; and + that the letter he will bring from her will assure it to me. + </p> + <p> + I have ordered him to go directly (without stopping at the + Saracen's-head-inn) to you at your lodgings. Matters are now in so good a + way, that he safely may. + </p> + <p> + Your expected letter is ready written I hope: if it can be not, he will + call for it at your hour. + </p> + <p> + You can't be so happy as you deserve to be: but I doubt not that you will + be as happy as you can; that is, that you will choose to put yourself + instantly into Lady Betty's protection. If you would not have the wretch + for your own sake; have him you must, for mine, for your family's, for + your honour's, sake!—Dear, honest Collins, make haste! make haste! + and relieve the impatient heart of my beloved's + </p> + <p> + Ever faithful, ever affectionate, ANNA HOWE. + </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 XI + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CHARLOTTE MONTAGUE TUESDAY MORN. JULY 18. + </p> + <p> + MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I take the liberty to write to you, by this special messenger. In the + phrensy of my soul I write to you, to demand of you, and of any of your + family who can tell news of my beloved friend, who, I doubt, has been + spirited away by the base arts of one of the blackest—O help me to a + name black enough to call him by! Her piety is proof against + self-attempts. It must, it must be he, the only wretch, who could injure + such an innocent; and now—who knows what he has done with her! + </p> + <p> + If I have patience, I will give you the occasion of this distracted + vehemence. + </p> + <p> + I wrote to her the very moment you and your sister left me. But being + unable to procure a special messenger, as I intended, was forced to send + by the post. I urged her, [you know I promised that I would: I urged her,] + with earnestness, to comply with the desires of all your family. Having no + answer, I wrote again on Sunday night; and sent it by a particular hand, + who travelled all night; chiding her for keeping a heart so impatient as + mine in such cruel suspense, upon a matter of so much importance to her, + and therefore to me. And very angry I was with her in my mind. + </p> + <p> + But, judge my astonishment, my distraction, when last night, the + messenger, returning post-haste, brought me word, that she had not been + heard of since Friday morning! and that a letter lay for her at her + lodgings, which came by the post; and must be mine! + </p> + <p> + She went out about six that morning; only intending, as they believe, to + go to morning-prayers at Covent-Garden church, just by her lodgings, as + she had done divers times before—Went on foot!—Left word she + should be back in an hour!—Very poorly in health! + </p> + <p> + Lord, have mercy upon me! What shall I do!—I was a distracted + creature all last night! + </p> + <p> + O Madam! you know not how I love her!—My own soul is not dearer to + me, than my Clarissa Harlowe!—Nay! she is my soul—for I now + have none—only a miserable one, however—for she was the joy, + the stay, the prop of my life. Never woman loved woman as we love one + another. It is impossible to tell you half her excellencies. It was my + glory and my pride, that I was capable of so fervent a love of so pure and + matchless a creature.— But now—who knows, whether the dear + injured has not all her woes, her undeserved woes, completed in death; or + is not reserved for a worse fate! —This I leave to your inquiry—for—your—[shall + I call the man—— your?] relation I understand is still with + you. + </p> + <p> + Surely, my good Ladies, you were well authorized in the proposals you made + in presence of my mother!—Surely he dare not abuse your confidence, + and the confidence of your noble relations! I make no apology for giving + you this trouble, nor for desiring you to favour with a line, by this + messenger, + </p> + <p> + Your almost distracted ANNA HOWE. + </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 XII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. M. HALL, SAT. NIGHT, JUNE 15. + </p> + <p> + All undone, undone, by Jupiter!—Zounds, Jack, what shall I do now! a + curse upon all my plots and contrivances!—But I have it——in + the very heart and soul of me I have it! + </p> + <p> + Thou toldest me, that my punishments were but beginning—Canst thou, + O fatal prognosticator, canst thou tell me, where they will end? + </p> + <p> + Thy assistance I bespeak. The moment thou receivest this, I bespeak thy + assistance. This messenger rides for life and death—and I hope he'll + find you at your town-lodgings; if he meet not with you at Edgware; where, + being Sunday, he will call first. + </p> + <p> + This cursed, cursed woman, on Friday dispatched man and horse with the + joyful news (as she thought it would be to me) in an exulting letter from + Sally Martin, that she had found out my angel as on Wednesday last; and on + Friday morning, after she had been at prayers at Covent-Garden church + —praying for my reformation perhaps—got her arrested by two + sheriff's officers, as she was returning to her lodgings, who (villains!) + put her into a chair they had in readiness, and carried her to one of the + cursed fellow's houses. + </p> + <p> + She has arrested her for 150£. pretendedly due for board and lodging: a + sum (besides the low villany of the proceeding) which the dear soul could + not possibly raise: all her clothes and effects, except what she had on + and with her when she went away, being at the old devil's. + </p> + <p> + And here, for an aggravation, has the dear creature lain already two days; + for I must be gallanting my two aunts and my two cousins, and giving Lord + M. an airing after his lying-in—pox upon the whole family of us! and + returned not till within this hour: and now returned to my distraction, on + receiving the cursed tidings, and the exulting letter. + </p> + <p> + Hasten, hasten, dear Jack; for the love of God, hasten to the injured + charmer! my heart bleeds for her!—she deserved not this!—I + dare not stir. It will be thought done by my contrivance—and if I am + absent from this place, that will confirm the suspicion. + </p> + <p> + Damnation seize quick this accursed woman!—Yet she thinks she has + made no small merit with me. Unhappy, thrice unhappy circumstances!—At + a time too, when better prospects were opening for the sweet creature! + </p> + <p> + Hasten to her!—Clear me of this cursed job. Most sincerely, by all + that's sacred, I swear you may!——Yet have I been such a + villanous plotter, that the charming sufferer will hardly believe it: + although the proceeding be so dirtily low. + </p> + <p> + Set her free the moment you see her: without conditioning, free!—On + your knees, for me, beg her pardon: and assure her, that, wherever she + goes, I will not molest her: no, nor come near her without her leave: and + be sure allow not any of the d——d crew to go near her—only + let her permit you to receive her commands from time to time.—You + have always been her friend and advocate. What would I now give, had I + permitted you to have been a successful one! + </p> + <p> + Let her have all her clothes and effects sent her instantly, as a small + proof of my sincerity. And force upon the dear creature, who must be + moneyless, what sums you can get her to take. Let me know how she has been + treated. If roughly, woe be to the guilty! + </p> + <p> + Take thy watch in thy hand, after thou hast freed her, and d—n the + whole brood, dragon and serpents, by the hour, till thou'rt tired; and + tell them, I bid thee do so for their cursed officiousness. + </p> + <p> + They had nothing to do when they had found her, but to wait my orders how + to proceed. + </p> + <p> + The great devil fly away with them all, one by one, through the roof of + their own cursed house, and dash them to pieces against the tops of + chimneys as he flies; and let the lesser devils collect the scattered + scraps, and bag them up, in order to put them together again in their + allotted place, in the element of fire, with cements of molten lead. + </p> + <p> + A line! a line! a kingdom for a line! with tolerable news, the first + moment thou canst write!—This fellow waits to bring it. + </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 XIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CHARLOTTE MONTAGUE, TO MISS HOWE M. HALL, TUESDAY AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + Your letter has infinitely disturbed us all. + </p> + <p> + This wretched man has been half distracted ever since Saturday night. + </p> + <p> + We knew not what ailed him, till your letter was brought. + </p> + <p> + Vile wretch, as he is, he is however innocent of this new evil. + </p> + <p> + Indeed he is, he must be; as I shall more at large acquaint you. + </p> + <p> + But will not now detain your messenger. + </p> + <p> + Only to satisfy your just impatience, by telling you, that the dear young + lady is safe, and we hope well. + </p> + <p> + A horrid mistake of his general orders has subjected her to the terror and + disgrace of an arrest. + </p> + <p> + Poor dear Miss Harlowe!—Her sufferings have endeared her to us, + almost as much as her excellencies can have endeared her to you. + </p> + <p> + But she must now be quite at liberty. + </p> + <p> + He has been a distracted man, ever since the news was brought him; and we + knew not what ailed him. + </p> + <p> + But that I said before. + </p> + <p> + My Lord M. my Lady Sarah Sadleir, and my Lady Betty Lawrance, will all + write to you this very afternoon. + </p> + <p> + And so will the wretch himself. + </p> + <p> + And send it by a servant of their own, not to detain your's. + </p> + <p> + I know not what I write. + </p> + <p> + But you shall have all the particulars, just, and true, and fair, from + </p> + <p> + Dear Madam, Your most faithful and obedient servant, CH. MONTAGUE. + </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 XIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS MONTAGUE, TO MISS HOWE M. HALL, JULY 18. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + In pursuance of my promise, I will minutely inform you of every thing we + know relating to this shocking transaction. + </p> + <p> + When we returned from you on Thursday night, and made our report of the + kind reception both we and our message met with, in that you had been so + good as to promise to use your interest with your dear friend, it put us + all into such good humour with one another, and with my cousin Lovelace, + that we resolved upon a little tour of two days, the Friday and Saturday, + in order to give an airing to my Lord, and Lady Sarah, both having been + long confined, one by illness, the other by melancholy. My Lord, Lady + Sarah, Lady Betty, and myself, were in the coach; and all our talk was of + dear Miss Harlowe, and of our future happiness with her: Mr. Lovelace and + my sister (who is his favourite, as he is her's) were in his phaëton: and, + whenever we joined company, that was still the subject. + </p> + <p> + As to him, never man praised woman as he did her: Never man gave greater + hopes, and made better resolutions. He is none of those that are governed + by interest. He is too proud for that. But most sincerely delighted was he + in talking of her; and of his hopes of her returning favour. He said, + however, more than once, that he feared she would not forgive him; for, + from his heart, he must say, he deserved not her forgiveness: and often + and often, that there was not such a woman in the world. + </p> + <p> + This I mention to show you, Madam, that he could not at this time be privy + to such a barbarous and disgraceful treatment of her. + </p> + <p> + We returned not till Saturday night, all in as good humour with one + another as we went out. We never had such pleasure in his company before. + If he would be good, and as he ought to be, no man would be better beloved + by relations than he. But never was there a greater alteration in man when + he came home, and received a letter from a messenger, who, it seems, had + been flattering himself in hopes of a reward, and had been waiting for his + return from the night before. In such a fury!—The man fared but + badly. He instantly shut himself up to write, and ordered man and horse to + be ready to set out before day-light the next morning, to carry the letter + to a friend in London. + </p> + <p> + He would not see us all that night; neither breakfast nor dine with us + next day. He ought, he said, never to see the light; and bid my sister, + whom he called an innocent, (and who was very desirous to know the + occasion of all this,) shun him, saying, he was a wretch, and made so by + his own inventions, and the consequences of them. + </p> + <p> + None of us could get out of him what so disturbed him. We should too soon + hear, he said, to the utter dissipation of all his hopes, and of all ours. + </p> + <p> + We could easily suppose that all was not right with regard to the worthy + young lady and him. + </p> + <p> + He went out each day; and said he wanted to run away from himself. + </p> + <p> + Late on Monday night he received a letter from Mr. Belford, his most + favoured friend, by his own messenger; who came back in a foam, man and + horse. Whatever were the contents, he was not easier, but like a madman + rather: but still would not let us know the occasion. But to my sister he + said, nobody, my dear Patsey, who can think but of half the plagues that + pursue an intriguing spirit, would ever quit the fore-right path. + </p> + <p> + He was out when your messenger came: but soon came in; and bad enough was + his reception from us all. And he said, that his own torments were greater + than ours, than Miss Harlowe's, or your's, Madam, all put together. He + would see your letter. He always carries every thing before him: and said, + when he had read it, that he thanked God, he was not such a villain, as + you, with too great an appearance of reason, thought him. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, he owned the matter to be. + </p> + <p> + He had left general instructions to the people of the lodgings the dear + lady went from, to find out where she was gone to, if possible, that he + might have an opportunity to importune her to be his, before their + difference was public. The wicked people (officious at least, if not + wicked) discovered where she was on Wednesday; and, for fear she should + remove before they could have his orders, they put her under a gentle + restraint, as they call it; and dispatched away a messenger to acquaint + him with it; and to take his orders. + </p> + <p> + This messenger arrived Friday afternoon; and staid here till we returned + on Saturday night:—and, when he read the letter he brought—I + have told you, Madam, what a fury he was in. + </p> + <p> + The letter he retired to write, and which he dispatched away so early on + Sunday morning, was to conjure his friend, Mr. Belford, on receipt of it, + to fly to the lady, and set her free; and to order all her things to be + sent to her; and to clear him of so black and villanous a fact, as he + justly called it. + </p> + <p> + And by this time he doubts not that all is happily over; and the beloved + of his soul (as he calls her at ever word) in an easier and happier way + than she was before the horrid fact. And now he owns that the reason why + Mr. Belford's letter set him into stronger ravings was, because of his + keeping him wilfully (and on purpose to torment him) in suspense; and + reflecting very heavily upon him, (for Mr. Belford, he says, was ever the + lady's friend and advocate); and only mentioning, that he had waited upon + her; referring to his next for further particulars; which Mr. Belford + could have told him at the time. + </p> + <p> + He declares, and we can vouch for him, that he has been, ever since last + Saturday night, the most miserable of men. + </p> + <p> + He forbore going up himself, that it might not be imagined he was guilty + of so black a contrivance; and that he went up to complete any base views + in consequence of it. + </p> + <p> + Believe us all, dear Miss Howe, under the deepest concern at this unhappy + accident; which will, we fear, exasperate the charming sufferer; not too + much for the occasion, but too much for our hopes. + </p> + <p> + O what wretches are these free-living men, who love to tread in intricate + paths; and, when once they err, know not how far out of the way their + headstrong course may lead them! + </p> + <p> + My sister joins her thanks with mine to your good mother and self, for the + favours you heaped upon us last Thursday. We beseech your continued + interest as to the subject of our visit. It shall be all our studies to + oblige and recompense the dear lady to the utmost of our power, and for + what she has suffered from the unhappy man. + </p> + <p> + We are, dear Madam, + </p> + <p> + Your obliged and faithful servants, + </p> + <p> + CHARLOTTE | MONTAGUE. MARTHA | *** DEAR MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + We join in the above request of Miss Charlotte and Miss Patty Montague, + for your favour and interest; being convinced that the accident was an + accident, and no plot or contrivance of a wretch too full of them. We are, + Madam, + </p> + <p> + Your most obedient humble servants, + </p> + <p> + M. SARAH SADLEIR. ELIZ. LAWRANCE. + </p> + <p> + *** DEAR MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + After what is written above, by names and characters of unquestionable + honour, I might have been excused signing a name almost as hateful to + myself, as I KNOW it is to you. But the above will have it so. Since, + therefore, I must write, it shall be the truth; which is, that if I may be + once more admitted to pay my duty to the most deserving and most injured + of her sex, I will be content to do it with a halter about my neck; and, + attended by a parson on my right hand, and the hangman on my left, be + doomed, at her will, either to the church or the gallows. + </p> + <p> + Your most humble servant, ROBERT LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + TUESDAY, JULY 18. <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XV + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. SUNDAY NIGHT, JULY 16. + </p> + <p> + What a cursed piece of work hast thou made of it, with the most excellent + of women! Thou mayest be in earnest, or in jest, as thou wilt; but the + poor lady will not be long either thy sport, or the sport of fortune! + </p> + <p> + I will give thee an account of a scene that wants but her affecting pen to + represent it justly; and it would wring all the black blood out of thy + callous heart. + </p> + <p> + Thou only, who art the author of her calamities, shouldst have attended + her in her prison. I am unequal to such a task: nor know I any other man + but would. + </p> + <p> + This last act, however unintended by thee, yet a consequence of thy + general orders, and too likely to be thought agreeable to thee, by those + who know thy other villanies by her, has finished thy barbarous work. And + I advise thee to trumpet forth every where, how much in earnest thou art + to marry her, whether true or not. + </p> + <p> + Thou mayest safely do it. She will not live to put thee to the trial; and + it will a little palliate for thy enormous usage of her, and be a mean to + make mankind, who know not what I know of the matter, herd a little longer + with thee, and forbear to hunt thee to thy fellow-savages in the Lybian + wilds and desarts. + </p> + <p> + Your messenger found me at Edgware expecting to dinner with me several + friends, whom I had invited three days before. I sent apologies to them, + as in a case of life and death; and speeded to town to the woman's: for + how knew I but shocking attempts might be made upon her by the cursed + wretches: perhaps by your connivance, in order to mortify her into your + measures? + </p> + <p> + Little knows the public what villanies are committed by vile wretches, in + these abominable houses upon innocent creatures drawn into their snares. + </p> + <p> + Finding the lady not there, I posted away to the officer's, although Sally + told me that she had but just come from thence; and that she had refused + to see her, or (as she sent down word) any body else; being resolved to + have the remainder of that Sunday to herself, as it might, perhaps, be the + last she should ever see. + </p> + <p> + I had the same thing told me, when I got thither. + </p> + <p> + I sent up to let her know, that I came with a commission to set her at + liberty. I was afraid of sending up the name of a man known to be your + friend. She absolutely refused to see any man, however, for that day, or + to answer further to any thing said from me. + </p> + <p> + Having therefore informed myself of all that the officer, and his wife, + and servant, could acquaint me with, as well in relation to the horrid + arrest, as to her behaviour, and the women's to her; and her ill state of + health; I went back to Sinclair's, as I will still call her, and heard the + three women's story. From all which I am enabled to give you the following + shocking particulars: which may serve till I can see the unhappy lady + herself to-morrow, if then I gain admittance to her. You will find that I + have been very minute in my inquiries. + </p> + <p> + Your villain it was that set the poor lady, and had the impudence to + appear, and abet the sheriff's officers in the cursed transaction. He + thought, no doubt, that he was doing the most acceptable service to his + blessed master. They had got a chair; the head ready up, as soon as + service was over. And as she came out of the church, at the door fronting + Bedford-street, the officers, stepping up to her, whispered that they had + an action against her. + </p> + <p> + She was terrified, trembled, and turned pale. + </p> + <p> + Action, said she! What is that!——I have committed no bad + action!—— Lord bless me! men, what mean you? + </p> + <p> + That you are our prisoner, Madam. + </p> + <p> + Prisoner, Sirs!—What—How—Why—What have I done? + </p> + <p> + You must go with us. Be pleased, Madam, to step into this chair. + </p> + <p> + With you!—With men! Must go with men!—I am not used to go with + strange men!——Indeed you must excuse me! + </p> + <p> + We can't excuse you. We are sheriff's officers, We have a writ against + you. You must go with us, and you shall know at whose suit. + </p> + <p> + Suit! said the charming innocent; I don't know what you mean. Pray, men, + don't lay hands upon me; (they offering to put her into the chair.) I am + not used to be thus treated—I have done nothing to deserve it. + </p> + <p> + She then spied thy villain—O thou wretch, said she, where is thy + vile master?—Am I again to be his prisoner? Help, good people! + </p> + <p> + A crowd had begun to gather. + </p> + <p> + My master is in the country, Madam, many miles off. If you please to go + with these men, they will treat you civilly. + </p> + <p> + The people were most of them struck with compassion. A fine young + creature!—A thousand pities cried some. While some few threw out + vile and shocking reflections! But a gentleman interposed, and demanded to + see the fellow's authority. + </p> + <p> + They showed it. Is your name Clarissa Harlowe, Madam? said he. + </p> + <p> + Yes, yes, indeed, ready to sink, my name was Clarissa Harlowe:—but + it is now Wretchedness!——Lord be merciful to me, what is to + come next? + </p> + <p> + You must go with these men, Madam, said the gentleman: they have authority + for what they do. + </p> + <p> + He pitied her, and retired. + </p> + <p> + Indeed you must, said one chairman. + </p> + <p> + Indeed you must, said the other. + </p> + <p> + Can nobody, joined in another gentleman, be applied to, who will see that + so fine a creature is not ill used? + </p> + <p> + Thy villain answered, orders were given particularly for that. She had + rich relations. She need but ask and have. She would only be carried to + the officer's house till matters could be made up. The people she had + lodged with loved her:—but she had left her lodgings privately. + </p> + <p> + Oh! had she those tricks already? cried one or two. + </p> + <p> + She heard not this—but said—Well, if I must go, I must—I + cannot resist —but I will not be carried to the woman's! I will + rather die at your feet, than be carried to the woman's. + </p> + <p> + You won't be carried there, Madam, cried thy fellow. + </p> + <p> + Only to my house, Madam, said one of the officers. + </p> + <p> + Where is that? + </p> + <p> + In High-Holborn, Madam. + </p> + <p> + I know not where High-Holborn is: but any where, except to the woman's. + ——But am I to go with men only? + </p> + <p> + Looking about her, and seeing the three passages, to wit, that leading to + Henrietta-street, that to King-street, and the fore-right one, to + Bedford-street, crowded, she started—Any where—any where, said + she, but to the woman's! And stepping into the chair, threw herself on the + seat, in the utmost distress and confusion—Carry me, carry me out of + sight— cover me—cover me up—for ever—were her + words. + </p> + <p> + Thy villain drew the curtain: she had not power: and they went away with + her through a vast crowd of people. + </p> + <p> + Here I must rest. I can write no more at present. + </p> + <p> + Only, Lovelace, remember, all this was to a Clarissa. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The unhappy lady fainted away when she was taken out of the chair at the + officer's house. + </p> + <p> + Several people followed the chair to the very house, which is in a + wretched court. Sally was there; and satisfied some of the inquirers, that + the young gentlewoman would be exceedingly well used: and they soon + dispersed. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas was also there; but came not in her sight. Sally, as a favour, + offered to carry her to her former lodgings: but she declared they should + carry her thither a corpse, if they did. + </p> + <p> + Very gentle usage the women boast of: so would a vulture, could it speak, + with the entrails of its prey upon its rapacious talons. Of this you'll + judge from what I have to recite. + </p> + <p> + She asked, what was meant by this usage of her? People told me, said she, + that I must go with the men: that they had authority to take me: so I + submitted. But now, what is to be the end of this disgraceful violence? + </p> + <p> + The end, said the vile Sally Martin, is, for honest people to come at + their own. + </p> + <p> + Bless me! have I taken away any thing that belongs to those who have + obtained the power over me?—I have left very valuable things behind + me; but have taken away that is not my own. + </p> + <p> + And who do you think, Miss Harlowe; for I understand, said the cursed + creature, you are not married; who do you think is to pay for your board + and your lodgings! such handsome lodgings! for so long a time as you were + at Mrs. Sinclair's? + </p> + <p> + Lord have mercy upon me!—Miss Martin, (I think you are Miss Martin!)— + And is this the cause of such a disgraceful insult upon me in the open + streets? + </p> + <p> + And cause enough, Miss Harlowe! (fond of gratifying her jealous revenge, + by calling her Miss,)—One hundred and fifty guineas, or pounds, is + no small sum to lose—and by a young creature who would have bilked + her lodgings. + </p> + <p> + You amaze me, Miss Martin!—What language do you talk in?—Bilk + my lodgings?—What is that? + </p> + <p> + She stood astonished and silent for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + But recovering herself, and turning from her to the window, she wrung her + hands [the cursed Sally showed me how!] and lifting them up—Now, + Lovelace: now indeed do I think I ought to forgive thee!—But who + shall forgive Clarissa Harlowe!——O my sister!—O my + brother!—Tender mercies were your cruelties to this! + </p> + <p> + After a pause, her handkerchief drying up her falling tears, she turned to + Sally: Now, have I nothing to do but acquiesce—only let me say, that + if this aunt of your's, this Mrs. Sinclair, or this man, this Mr. + Lovelace, come near me; or if I am carried to the horrid house; (for that, + I suppose, is the design of this new outrage;) God be merciful to the poor + Clarissa Harlowe!——Look to the consequence!——Look, + I charge you, to the consequence! + </p> + <p> + The vile wretch told her, it was not designed to carry her any where + against her will: but, if it were, they should take care not to be + frighted again by a penknife. + </p> + <p> + She cast up her eyes to Heaven, and was silent—and went to the + farthest corner of the room, and, sitting down, threw her handkerchief + over her face. + </p> + <p> + Sally asked her several questions; but not answering her, she told her, + she would wait upon her by-and-by, when she had found her speech. + </p> + <p> + She ordered the people to press her to eat and drink. She must be fasting—nothing + but her prayers and tears, poor thing!—were the merciless devil's + words, as she owned to me.—Dost think I did not curse her? + </p> + <p> + She went away; and, after her own dinner, returned. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy lady, by this devil's account of her, then seemed either + mortified into meekness, or to have made a resolution not to be provoked + by the insults of this cursed creature. + </p> + <p> + Sally inquired, in her presence, whether she had eat or drank any thing; + and being told by the woman, that she could not prevail upon her to taste + a morsel, or drink a drop, she said, this is wrong, Miss Harlowe! Very + wrong!—Your religion, I think, should teach you, that starving + yourself is self-murder. + </p> + <p> + She answered not. + </p> + <p> + The wretch owned she was resolved to make her speak. + </p> + <p> + She asked if Mabell should attend her, till it were seen what her friends + would do for her in discharge of the debt? Mabell, said she, had not yet + earned the clothes you were so good as to give her. + </p> + <p> + Am I not worthy an answer, Miss Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + I would answer you (said the sweet sufferer, without any emotion) if I + knew how. + </p> + <p> + I have ordered pen, ink, and paper, to be brought you, Miss Harlowe. There + they are. I know you love writing. You may write to whom you please. Your + friend, Miss Howe, will expect to hear from you. + </p> + <p> + I have no friend, said she, I deserve none. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, for that's the officer's name, told her, she had friends enow to + pay the debt, if she would write. + </p> + <p> + She would trouble nobody; she had no friends; was all they could get from + her, while Sally staid: but yet spoken with a patience of spirit, as if + she enjoyed her griefs. + </p> + <p> + The insolent creature went away, ordering them, in the lady's hearing, to + be very civil to her, and to let her want for nothing. Now had she, she + owned, the triumph of her heart over this haughty beauty, who kept them + all at such a distance in their own house! + </p> + <p> + What thinkest thou, Lovelace, of this!—This wretch's triumph was + over a Clarissa! + </p> + <p> + About six in the evening, Rowland's wife pressed her to drink tea. She + said, she had rather have a glass of water; for her tongue was ready to + cleave to the roof of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The woman brought her a glass, and some bread and butter. She tried to + taste the latter; but could not swallow it: but eagerly drank the water; + lifting up her eyes in thankfulness for that!!! + </p> + <p> + The divine Clarissa, Lovelace,—reduced to rejoice for a cup of cold + water!—By whom reduced? + </p> + <p> + About nine o'clock she asked if any body were to be her bedfellow. + </p> + <p> + Their maid, if she pleased; or, as she was so weak and ill, the girl + should sit up with her, if she chose she should. + </p> + <p> + She chose to be alone both night and day, she said. But might she not be + trusted with the key of the room where she was to lie down; for she should + not put off her clothes! + </p> + <p> + That, they told her, could not be. + </p> + <p> + She was afraid not, she said.—But indeed she would not get away, if + she could. + </p> + <p> + They told me, that they had but one bed, besides that they lay in + themselves, (which they would fain have had her accept of,) and besides + that their maid lay in, in a garret, which they called a hole of a garret: + and that that one bed was the prisoner's bed; which they made several + apologies to me about. I suppose it is shocking enough. + </p> + <p> + But the lady would not lie in theirs. Was she not a prisoner? she said + —let her have the prisoner's room. + </p> + <p> + Yet they owned that she started, when she was conducted thither. But + recovering herself, Very well, said she—why should not all be of a + piece?—Why should not my wretchedness be complete? + </p> + <p> + She found fault, that all the fastenings were on the outside, and none + within; and said, she could not trust herself in a room where others could + come in at their pleasure, and she not go out. She had not been used to + it!!! + </p> + <p> + Dear, dear soul!—My tears flow as I write!——Indeed, + Lovelace, she had not been used to such treatment. + </p> + <p> + They assured her, that it was as much their duty to protect her from other + persons' insults, as from escaping herself. + </p> + <p> + Then they were people of more honour, she said, than she had been of late + used to. + </p> + <p> + She asked if they knew Mr. Lovelace? + </p> + <p> + No, was their answer. + </p> + <p> + Have you heard of him? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, you may be good sort of folks in your way. + </p> + <p> + Pause here for a moment, Lovelace!—and reflect—I must. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Again they asked her if they should send any word to her lodgings? + </p> + <p> + These are my lodgings now; are they not?—was all her answer. + </p> + <p> + She sat up in a chair all night, the back against the door; having, it + seems, thrust a piece of a poker through the staples where a bolt had been + on the inside. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Next morning Sally and Polly both went to visit her. + </p> + <p> + She had begged of Sally, the day before, that she might not see Mrs. + Sinclair, nor Dorcas, nor the broken-toothed servant, called William. + </p> + <p> + Polly would have ingratiated herself with her; and pretended to be + concerned for her misfortunes. But she took no more notice of her than of + the other. + </p> + <p> + They asked if she had any commands?—If she had, she only need to + mention what they were, and she should be obeyed. + </p> + <p> + None at all, she said. + </p> + <p> + How did she like the people of the house? Were they civil to her? + </p> + <p> + Pretty well, considering she had no money to give them. + </p> + <p> + Would she accept of any money? they could put it to her account. + </p> + <p> + She would contract no debts. + </p> + <p> + Had she any money about her? + </p> + <p> + She meekly put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out half a guinea, and a + little silver. Yes, I have a little.——But here should be fees + paid, I believe. Should there not? I have heard of entrance-money to + compound for not being stript. But these people are very civil people, I + fancy; for they have not offered to take away my clothes. + </p> + <p> + They have orders to be civil to you. + </p> + <p> + It is very kind. + </p> + <p> + But we two will bail you, Miss, if you will go back with us to Mrs. + Sinclair's. + </p> + <p> + Not for the world! + </p> + <p> + Her's are very handsome apartments. + </p> + <p> + The fitter for those who own them! + </p> + <p> + These are very sad ones. + </p> + <p> + The fitter for me! + </p> + <p> + You may be happy yet, Miss, if you will. + </p> + <p> + I hope I shall. + </p> + <p> + If you refuse to eat or drink, we will give bail, and take you with us. + </p> + <p> + Then I will try to eat and drink. Any thing but go with you. + </p> + <p> + Will you not send to your new lodgings; the people will be frighted. + </p> + <p> + So they will, if I send. So they will, if they know where I am. + </p> + <p> + But have you no things to send for from thence? + </p> + <p> + There is what will pay for their lodgings and trouble: I shall not lessen + their security. + </p> + <p> + But perhaps letters or messages may be left for you there. + </p> + <p> + I have very few friends; and to those I have I will spare the + mortification of knowing what has befallen me. + </p> + <p> + We are surprised at your indifference, Miss Harlowe! Will you not write to + any of your friends? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + Why, you don't think of tarrying here always? + </p> + <p> + I shall not live always. + </p> + <p> + Do you think you are to stay here as long as you live? + </p> + <p> + That's as it shall please God, and those who have brought me hither. + </p> + <p> + Should you like to be at liberty? + </p> + <p> + I am miserable!—What is liberty to the miserable, but to be more + miserable. + </p> + <p> + How miserable, Miss?—You may make yourself as happy as you please. + </p> + <p> + I hope you are both happy. + </p> + <p> + We are. + </p> + <p> + May you be more and more happy! + </p> + <p> + But we wish you to be so too. + </p> + <p> + I shall never be of your opinion, I believe, as to what happiness is. + </p> + <p> + What do you take our opinion of happiness to be? + </p> + <p> + To live at Mrs. Sinclair's. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, said Sally, we were once as squeamish and narrow-minded as you. + </p> + <p> + How came it over with you? + </p> + <p> + Because we saw the ridiculousness of prudery. + </p> + <p> + Do you come hither to persuade me to hate prudery, as you call it, as much + as you do? + </p> + <p> + We came to offer our service to you. + </p> + <p> + It is out of your power to serve me. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps not. + </p> + <p> + It is not in my inclination to trouble you. + </p> + <p> + You may be worse offered. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I may. + </p> + <p> + You are mighty short, Miss. + </p> + <p> + As I wish your visit to be, Ladies. + </p> + <p> + They owned to me, that they cracked their fans, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, perverse beauty! + </p> + <p> + Your servant, Ladies. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, haughty airs! + </p> + <p> + You see me humbled— + </p> + <p> + As you deserve, Miss Harlowe. Pride will have a fall. + </p> + <p> + Better fall, with what you call pride, than stand with meanness. + </p> + <p> + Who does? + </p> + <p> + I had once a better opinion of you, Miss Horton!—Indeed you should + not insult the miserable. + </p> + <p> + Neither should the miserable, said Sally, insult people for their + civility. + </p> + <p> + I should be sorry if I did. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair shall attend you by-and-by, to know if you have any commands + for her. + </p> + <p> + I have no wish for any liberty, but that of refusing to see her, and one + more person. + </p> + <p> + What we came for, was to know if you had any proposals to make for your + enlargement. + </p> + <p> + Then, it seems, the officer put in. You have very good friends, Madam, I + understand. Is it not better that you make it up? Charges will run high. A + hundred and fifty guineas are easier paid than two hundred. Let these + ladies bail you, and go along with them; or write to your friends to make + it up. + </p> + <p> + Sally said, There is a gentleman who saw you taken, and was so much moved + for you, Miss Harlowe, that he would gladly advance the money for you, and + leave you to pay it when you can. + </p> + <p> + See, Lovelace, what cursed devils these are! This is the way, we know, + that many an innocent heart is thrown upon keeping, and then upon the + town. But for these wretches thus to go to work with such an angel as + this!—How glad would have been the devilish Sally, to have had the + least handle to report to thee a listening ear, or patient spirit, upon + this hint! + </p> + <p> + Sir, said she, with high indignation, to the officer, did not you say, + last night, that it was as much your business to protect me from the + insults of others, as from escaping?—Cannot I be permitted to see + whom I please? and to refuse admittance to those I like not? + </p> + <p> + Your creditors, Madam, will expect to see you. + </p> + <p> + Not if I declare I will not treat with them. + </p> + <p> + Then, Madam, you will be sent to prison. + </p> + <p> + Prison, friend!—What dost thou call thy house? + </p> + <p> + Not a prison, Madam. + </p> + <p> + Why these iron-barred windows, then? Why these double locks and bolts all + on the outside, none on the in? + </p> + <p> + And down she dropt into her chair, and they could not get another word + from her. She threw her handkerchief over her face, as one before, which + was soon wet with tears; and grievously, they own, she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + Gentle treatment, Lovelace!—Perhaps thou, as well as these wretches, + will think it so! + </p> + <p> + Sally then ordered a dinner, and said, They would soon be back a gain, and + see that she eat and drank, as a good christian should, comporting herself + to her condition, and making the best of it. + </p> + <p> + What has not this charming creature suffered, what has she not gone + through, in these last three months, that I know of!—Who would think + such a delicately-framed person could have sustained what she has + sustained! We sometimes talk of bravery, of courage, of fortitude!—Here + they are in perfection!—Such bravoes as thou and I should never have + been able to support ourselves under half the persecutions, the + disappointments, and contumelies, that she has met with; but, like + cowards, should have slid out of the world, basely, by some back-door; + that is to say, by a sword, by a pistol, by a halter, or knife;—but + here is a fine-principled woman, who, by dint of this noble consideration, + as I imagine, [What else can support her?] that she has not deserved the + evils she contends with; and that this world is designed but as a + transitory state of the probation; and that she is travelling to another + and better; puts up with all the hardships of the journey; and is not to + be diverted from her course by the attacks of thieves and robbers, or any + other terrors and difficulties; being assured of an ample reward at the + end of it. + </p> + <p> + If thou thinkest this reflection uncharacteristic from a companion and + friend of thine, imaginest thou, that I profited nothing by my long + attendance on my uncle in his dying state; and from the pious reflections + of the good clergyman, who, day by day, at the poor man's own request, + visited and prayed by him?—And could I have another such instance, + as this, to bring all these reflections home to me? + </p> + <p> + Then who can write of good persons, and of good subjects, and be capable + of admiring them, and not be made serious for the time? And hence may we + gather what a benefit to the morals of men the keeping of good company + must be; while those who keep only bad, must necessarily more and more + harden, and be hardened. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + 'Tis twelve of the clock, Sunday night—I can think of nothing but + this excellent creature. Her distresses fill my head and my heart. I was + drowsy for a quarter of an hour; but the fit is gone off. And I will + continue the melancholy subject from the information of these wretches. + Enough, I dare say, will arise in the visit I shall make, if admitted + to-morrow, to send by thy servant, as to the way I am likely to find her + in. + </p> + <p> + After the women had left her, she complained of her head and her heart; + and seemed terrified with apprehensions of being carried once more to + Sinclair's. + </p> + <p> + Refusing any thing for breakfast, Mrs. Rowland came up to her, and told + her, (as these wretches owned they had ordered her, for fear she should + starve herself,) that she must and should have tea, and bread and butter: + and that, as she had friends who could support her, if she wrote to them, + it was a wrong thing, both for herself and them, to starve herself thus. + </p> + <p> + If it be for your own sakes, said she, that is another thing: let coffee, + or tea, or chocolate, or what you will, be got: and put down a chicken to + my account every day, if you please, and eat it yourselves. I will taste + it, if I can. I would do nothing to hinder you. I have friends will pay + you liberally, when they know I am gone. + </p> + <p> + They wondered, they told her, at her strange composure in such distresses. + </p> + <p> + They were nothing, she said, to what she had suffered already from the + vilest of all men. The disgrace of seizing her in the street; multitudes + of people about her; shocking imputations wounding her ears; had indeed + been very affecting to her. But that was over.—Every thing soon + would! —And she should be still more composed, were it not for the + apprehensions of seeing one man, and one woman; and being tricked or + forced back to the vilest house in the world. + </p> + <p> + Then were it not better to give way to the two gentlewoman's offer to bail + her?—They could tell her, it was a very kind proffer; and what was + not to be met every day. + </p> + <p> + She believed so. + </p> + <p> + The ladies might, possibly, dispense with her going back to the house to + which she had such an antipathy. Then the compassionate gentleman, who was + inclined to make it up with her creditors on her own bond—it was + very strange to them she hearkened not to so generous a proposal. + </p> + <p> + Did the two ladies tell you who the gentleman was?—Or, did they say + any more on the subject? + </p> + <p> + Yes, they did! and hinted to me, said the woman, that you had nothing to + do but to receive a visit from the gentleman, and the money, they + believed, would be laid down on your own bond or note. + </p> + <p> + She was startled. + </p> + <p> + I charge you, said she, as you will answer it one day to my friends, I + charge you don't. If you do, you know not what may be the consequence. + </p> + <p> + They apprehended no bad consequence, they said, in doing their duty: and + if she knew not her own good, her friends would thank them for taking any + innocent steps to serve her, though against her will. + </p> + <p> + Don't push me upon extremities, man!—Don't make me desperate, woman!—I + have no small difficulty, notwithstanding the seeming composure you just + now took notice of, to bear, as I ought to bear, the evils I suffer. But + if you bring a man or men to me, be the pretence what it will—— + </p> + <p> + She stopt there, and looked so earnestly, and so wildly, they said, that + they did not know but she would do some harm to herself, if they disobeyed + her; and that would be a sad thing in their house, and might be their + ruin. They therefore promised, that no man should be brought to her but by + her own consent. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rowland prevailed on her to drink a dish of tea, and taste some bread + and butter, about eleven on Saturday morning: which she probably did to + have an excuse not to dine with the women when they returned. + </p> + <p> + But she would not quit her prison-room, as she called it, to go into their + parlour. + </p> + <p> + 'Unbarred windows, and a lightsomer apartment,' she said, 'had too + cheerful an appearance for her mind.' + </p> + <p> + A shower falling, as she spoke, 'What,' said she, looking up, 'do the + elements weep for me?' + </p> + <p> + At another time, 'The light of the sun was irksome to her. The sun seemed + to shine in to mock her woes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Methought,' added she, 'the sun darting in, and gilding these iron bars, + plays upon me like the two women, who came to insult my haggard looks, by + the word beauty; and my dejected heart, by the word haughty airs!' + </p> + <p> + Sally came again at dinner-time, to see how she fared, as she told her; + and that she did not starve herself: and, as she wanted to have some talk + with her, if she gave her leave, she would dine with her. + </p> + <p> + I cannot eat. + </p> + <p> + You must try, Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + And, dinner being ready just then, she offered her hand, and desired her + to walk down. + </p> + <p> + No; she would not stir out of her prison-room. + </p> + <p> + These sullen airs won't do, Miss Harlowe: indeed they won't. + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + You will have harder usage than any you have ever yet known, I can tell + you, if you come not into some humour to make matters up. + </p> + <p> + She was still silent. + </p> + <p> + Come, Miss, walk down to dinner. Let me entreat you, do. Miss Horton is + below: she was once your favourite. + </p> + <p> + She waited for an answer: but received none. + </p> + <p> + We came to make some proposals to you, for your good; though you affronted + us so lately. And we would not let Mrs. Sinclair come in person, because + we thought to oblige you. + </p> + <p> + This is indeed obliging. + </p> + <p> + Come, give me your hand. Miss Harlowe: you are obliged to me, I can tell + you that: and let us go down to Miss Horton. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me: I will not stir out of this room. + </p> + <p> + Would you have me and Miss Horton dine in this filthy bed-room? + </p> + <p> + It is not a bed-room to me. I have not been in bed; nor will, while I am + here. + </p> + <p> + And yet you care not, as I see, to leave the house.—And so, you + won't go down, Miss Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + I won't, except I am forced to it. + </p> + <p> + Well, well, let it alone. I sha'n't ask Miss Horton to dine in this room, + I assure you. I will send up a plate. + </p> + <p> + And away the little saucy toad fluttered down. + </p> + <p> + When they had dined, up they came together. + </p> + <p> + Well, Miss, you would not eat any thing, it seems?—Very pretty + sullen airs these!—No wonder the honest gentleman had such a hand + with you. + </p> + <p> + She only held up her hands and eyes; the tears trickling down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Insolent devils!—how much more cruel and insulting are bad women + even than bad men! + </p> + <p> + Methinks, Miss, said Sally, you are a little soily, to what we have seen + you. Pity such a nice lady should not have changes of apparel! Why won't + you send to your lodgings for linen, at least? + </p> + <p> + I am not nice now. + </p> + <p> + Miss looks well and clean in any thing, said Polly. But, dear Madam, why + won't you send to your lodgings? Were it but in kindness to the people? + They must have a concern about you. And your Miss Howe will wonder what's + become of you; for, no doubt, you correspond. + </p> + <p> + She turned from them, and, to herself, said, Too much! Too much!—She + tossed her handkerchief, wet before with her tears, from her, and held her + apron to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Don't weep, Miss! said the vile Polly. + </p> + <p> + Yet do, cried the viler Sally, it will be a relief. Nothing, as Mr. + Lovelace once told me, dries sooner than tears. For once I too wept + mightily. + </p> + <p> + I could not bear the recital of this with patience. Yet I cursed them not + so much as I should have done, had I not had a mind to get from them all + the particulars of their gentle treatment: and this for two reasons; the + one, that I might stab thee to the heart with the repetition; and the + other, that I might know upon what terms I am likely to see the unhappy + lady to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Well, but, Miss Harlowe, cried Sally, do you think these forlorn airs + pretty? You are a good christian, child. Mrs. Rowland tells me, she has + got you a Bible-book.—O there it lies!—I make no doubt but you + have doubled down the useful places, as honest Matt. Prior says. + </p> + <p> + Then rising, and taking it up.—Ay, so you have.—The Book of + Job! One opens naturally here, I see—My mamma made me a fine + Bible-scholar.—You see, Miss Horton, I know something of the book. + </p> + <p> + They proposed once more to bail her, and to go home with them. A motion + which she received with the same indignation as before. + </p> + <p> + Sally told her, That she had written in a very favourable manner, in her + behalf, to you; and that she every hour expected an answer; and made no + doubt, that you would come up with a messenger, and generously pay the + whole debt, and ask her pardon for neglecting it. + </p> + <p> + This disturbed her so much, that they feared she would have fallen into + fits. She could not bear your name, she said. She hoped she should never + see you more: and, were you to intrude yourself, dreadful consequences + might follow. + </p> + <p> + Surely, they said, she would be glad to be released from her confinement. + </p> + <p> + Indeed she should, now they had begun to alarm her with his name, who was + the author of all her woes: and who, she now saw plainly, gave way to this + new outrage, in order to bring her to his own infamous terms. + </p> + <p> + Why then, they asked, would she not write to her friends, to pay Mrs. + Sinclair's demand? + </p> + <p> + Because she hoped she should not trouble any body; and because she knew + that the payment of the money if she should be able to pay it, was not + what was aimed at. + </p> + <p> + Sally owned that she told her, That, truly, she had thought herself as + well descended, and as well educated, as herself, though not entitled to + such considerable fortunes. And had the impudence to insist upon it to me + to be truth. + </p> + <p> + She had the insolence to add, to the lady, That she had as much reason as + she to expect Mr. Lovelace would marry her; he having contracted to do so + before he knew Miss Clarissa Harlowe: and that she had it under his hand + and seal too—or else he had not obtained his end: therefore it was + not likely she should be so officious as to do his work against herself, + if she thought Mr. Lovelace had designs upon her, like what she presumed + to hint at: that, for her part, her only view was, to procure liberty to a + young gentlewoman, who made those things grievous to her which would not + be made such a rout about by any body else—and to procure the + payment of a just debt to her friend Mrs. Sinclair. + </p> + <p> + She besought them to leave her. She wanted not these instances, she said, + to convince her of the company she was in; and told them, that, to get rid + of such visiters, and of the still worse she was apprehensive of, she + would write to one friend to raise the money for her; though it would be + death for her to do so; because that friend could not do it without her + mother, in whose eye it would give a selfish appearance to a friendship + that was above all sordid alloys. + </p> + <p> + They advised her to write out of hand. + </p> + <p> + But how much must I write for? What is the sum? Should I not have had a + bill delivered me? God knows, I took not your lodgings. But he that could + treat me as he has done, could do this! + </p> + <p> + Don't speak against Mr. Lovelace, Miss Harlowe. He is a man I greatly + esteem. [Cursed toad!] And, 'bating that he will take his advantage, where + he can, of US silly credulous women, he is a man of honour. + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her hands and eyes, instead of speaking: and well she might! + For any words she could have used could not have expressed the anguish she + must feel on being comprehended in the US. + </p> + <p> + She must write for one hundred and fifty guineas, at least: two hundred, + if she were short of more money, might well be written for. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair, she said, had all her clothes. Let them be sold, fairly + sold, and the money go as far as it would go. She had also a few other + valuables; but no money, (none at all,) but the poor half guinea, and the + little silver they had seen. She would give bond to pay all that her + apparel, and the other maters she had, would fall short of. She had great + effects belonging to her of right. Her bond would, and must be paid, were + it for a thousand pounds. But her clothes she should never want. She + believed, if not too much undervalued, those, and her few valuables, would + answer every thing. She wished for no surplus but to discharge the last + expenses; and forty shillings would do as well for those as forty pounds. + 'Let my ruin, said she, lifting up her eyes, be LARGE! Let it be COMPLETE, + in this life!—For a composition, let it be COMPLETE.'—And + there she stopped. + </p> + <p> + The wretches could not help wishing to me for the opportunity of making + such a purchase for their own wear. How I cursed them! and, in my heart, + thee!—But too probable, thought I, that this vile Sally Martin may + hope, [though thou art incapable of it,] that her Lovelace, as she has the + assurance, behind thy back, to call thee, may present her with some of the + poor lady's spoils! + </p> + <p> + Will not Mrs. Sinclair, proceeded she, think my clothes a security, till + they can be sold? They are very good clothes. A suit or two but just put + on, as it were; never worn. They cost much more than it demanded of me. My + father loved to see me fine.—All shall go. But let me have the + particulars of her demand. I suppose I must pay for my destroyer [that was + her well-adapted word!] and his servants, as well as for myself. I am + content to do so—I am above wishing that any body, who could thus + act, should be so much as expostulated with, as to the justice and equity + of this payment. If I have but enough to pay the demand, I shall be + satisfied; and will leave the baseness of such an action as this, as an + aggravation of a guilt which I thought could not be aggravated. + </p> + <p> + I own, Lovelace, I have malice in this particularity, in order to sting + thee on the heart. And, let me ask thee, what now thou can'st think of thy + barbarity, thy unprecedented barbarity, in having reduced a person of her + rank, fortune, talents, and virtue, so low? + </p> + <p> + The wretched women, it must be owned, act but in their profession: a + profession thou hast been the principal means of reducing these two to act + in. And they know what thy designs have been, and how far prosecuted. It + is, in their opinions, using her gently, that they have forborne to bring + her to the woman so justly odious to her: and that they have not + threatened her with the introducing to her strange men: nor yet brought + into her company their spirit-breakers, and humbling-drones, (fellows not + allowed to carry stings,) to trace and force her back to their detested + house; and, when there, into all their measures. + </p> + <p> + Till I came, they thought thou wouldst not be displeased at any thing she + suffered, that could help to mortify her into a state of shame and + disgrace; and bring her to comply with thy views, when thou shouldst come + to release her from these wretches, as from a greater evil than cohabiting + with thee. + </p> + <p> + When thou considerest these things, thou wilt make no difficulty of + believing, that this their own account of their behaviour to this + admirable woman has been far short of their insults: and the less, when I + tell thee, that, all together, their usage had such effect upon her, that + they left her in violent hysterics; ordering an apothecary to be sent for, + if she should continue in them, and be worse; and particularly (as they + had done from the first) that they kept out of her way any edged or + pointed instrument; especially a pen-knife; which, pretending to mend a + pen, they said, she might ask for. + </p> + <p> + At twelve, Saturday night, Rowland sent to tell them, that she was so ill, + that he knew not what might be the issue; and wished her out of his house. + </p> + <p> + And this made them as heartily wish to hear from you. For their messenger, + to their great surprise, was not then returned from M. Hall. And they were + sure he must have reached that place by Friday night. + </p> + <p> + Early on Sunday morning, both devils went to see how she did. They had + such an account of her weakness, lowness, and anguish, that they forebore + (out of compassion, they said, finding their visits so disagreeable to + her) to see her. But their apprehension of what might be the issue was, no + doubt, their principal consideration: nothing else could have softened + such flinty bosoms. + </p> + <p> + They sent for the apothecary Rowland had had to her, and gave him, and + Rowland, and his wife and maid, strict orders, many times repeated, for + the utmost care to be taken of her—no doubt, with an Old-Bailey + forecast. And they sent up to let her know what orders they had given: but + that, understanding she had taken something to compose herself, they would + not disturb her. + </p> + <p> + She had scrupled, it seems, to admit the apothecary's visit over night, + because he was a MAN. Nor could she be prevailed upon to see him, till + they pleaded their own safety to her. + </p> + <p> + They went again, from church, [Lord, Bob., these creatures go to church!] + but she sent them down word that she must have all the remainder of the + day to herself. + </p> + <p> + When I first came, and told them of thy execrations for what they had + done, and joined my own to them, they were astonished. The mother said, + she had thought she had known Mr. Lovelace better; and expected thanks, + and not curses. + </p> + <p> + While I was with them, came back halting and cursing, most horribly, their + messenger; by reason of the ill-usage he had received from you, instead of + the reward he had been taught to expect for the supposed good news that he + carried down.—A pretty fellow, art thou not, to abuse people for the + consequences of thy own faults? + </p> + <p> + Dorcas, whose acquaintance this fellow is, and who recommended him for the + journey, had conditioned with him, it seems, for a share in the expected + bounty from you. Had she been to have had her share made good, I wish thou + hadst broken every bone in his skin. + </p> + <p> + Under what shocking disadvantages, and with this addition to them, that I + am thy friend and intimate, am I to make a visit to this unhappy lady + to-morrow morning! In thy name, too!—Enough to be refused, that I am + of a sex, to which, for thy sake, she has so justifiable an aversion: nor, + having such a tyrant of a father, and such an implacable brother, has she + the reason to make an exception in favour of any of it on their accounts. + </p> + <p> + It is three o'clock. I will close here; and take a little rest: what I + have written will be a proper preparative for what shall offer by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + Thy servant is not to return without a letter, he tells me; and that thou + expectest him back in the morning. Thou hast fellows enough where thou art + at thy command. If I find any difficulty in seeing the lady, thy messenger + shall post away with this.—Let him look to broken bones, and other + consequences, if what he carries answer not thy expectation. But, if I am + admitted, thou shalt have this and the result of my audience both + together. In the former case, thou mayest send another servant to wait the + next advices from + </p> + <p> + J. BELFORD. <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. MONDAY, JULY 17. + </p> + <p> + About six this morning, I went to Rowland's. Mrs. Sinclair was to follow + me, in order to dismiss the action; but not to come in sight. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, upon inquiry, told me, that the lady was extremely ill; and that + she had desired, that no one but his wife or maid should come near her. + </p> + <p> + I said, I must see her. I had told him my business over-night, and I must + see her. + </p> + <p> + His wife went up: but returned presently, saying, she could not get her to + speak to her; yet that her eyelids moved; though she either would not, or + could not, open them, to look up at her. + </p> + <p> + Oons, woman, said I, the lady may be in a fit: the lady may be dying—let + me go up. Show me the way. + </p> + <p> + A horrid hole of a house, in an alley they call a court; stairs wretchedly + narrow, even to the first-floor rooms: and into a den they led me, with + broken walls, which had been papered, as I saw by a multitude of tacks, + and some torn bits held on by the rusty heads. + </p> + <p> + The floor indeed was clean, but the ceiling was smoked with variety of + figures, and initials of names, that had been the woeful employment of + wretches who had no other way to amuse themselves. + </p> + <p> + A bed at one corner, with coarse curtains tacked up at the feet to the + ceiling; because the curtain-rings were broken off; but a coverlid upon it + with a cleanish look, though plaguily in tatters, and the corners tied up + in tassels, that the rents in it might go no farther. + </p> + <p> + The windows dark and double-barred, the tops boarded up to save mending; + and only a little four-paned eyelet-hole of a casement to let in air; + more, however, coming in at broken panes than could come in at that. + </p> + <p> + Four old Turkey-worked chairs, bursten-bottomed, the stuffing staring out. + </p> + <p> + An old, tottering, worm-eaten table, that had more nails bestowed in + mending it to make it stand, than the table cost fifty years ago, when + new. + </p> + <p> + On the mantle-piece was an iron shove-up candlestick, with a lighted + candle in it, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, four of them, I suppose, for a + penny. + </p> + <p> + Near that, on the same shelf, was an old looking-glass, cracked through + the middle, breaking out into a thousand points; the crack given it, + perhaps, in a rage, by some poor creature, to whom it gave the + representation of his heart's woes in his face. + </p> + <p> + The chimney had two half-tiles in it on one side, and one whole one on the + other; which showed it had been in better plight; but now the very mortar + had followed the rest of the tiles in every other place, and left the + bricks bare. + </p> + <p> + An old half-barred stove grate was in the chimney; and in that a large + stone-bottle without a neck, filled with baleful yew, as an evergreen, + withered southern-wood, dead sweet-briar, and sprigs of rue in flower. + </p> + <p> + To finish the shocking description, in a dark nook stood an old + broken-bottomed cane couch, without a squab, or coverlid, sunk at one + corner, and unmortised by the failing of one of its worm-eaten legs, which + lay in two pieces under the wretched piece of furniture it could no longer + support. + </p> + <p> + And this, thou horrid Lovelace, was the bed-chamber of the divine + Clarissa!!! + </p> + <p> + I had leisure to cast my eye on these things: for, going up softly, the + poor lady turned not about at our entrance; nor, till I spoke, moved her + head. + </p> + <p> + She was kneeling in a corner of the room, near the dismal window, against + the table, on an old bolster (as it seemed to be) of the cane couch, + half-covered with her handkerchief; her back to the door; which was only + shut to, [no need of fastenings;] her arms crossed upon the table, the + fore-finger of her right-hand in her Bible. She had perhaps been reading + in it, and could read no longer. Paper, pens, ink, lay by her book on the + table. Her dress was white damask, exceeding neat; but her stays seemed + not tight-laced. I was told afterwards, that her laces had been cut, when + she fainted away at her entrance into this cursed place; and she had not + been solicitous enough about her dress to send for others. Her head-dress + was a little discomposed; her charming hair, in natural ringlets, as you + have heretofore described it, but a little tangled, as if not lately + combed, irregularly shading one side of the loveliest neck in the world; + as her disordered rumpled handkerchief did the other. Her face [O how + altered from what I had seen it! yet lovely in spite of all her griefs and + sufferings!] was reclined, when we entered, upon her crossed arms; but so, + as not more than one side of it could be hid. + </p> + <p> + When I surveyed the room around, and the kneeling lady, sunk with majesty + too in her white flowing robes, (for she had not on a hoop,) spreading the + dark, though not dirty, floor, and illuminating that horrid corner; her + linen beyond imagination white, considering that she had not been + undressed every since she had been here; I thought my concern would have + choked me. Something rose in my throat, I know not what, which made me, + for a moment, guggle, as it were, for speech: which, at last, forcing its + way, con—con—confound you both, said I, to the man and woman, + is this an apartment for such a lady? and could the cursed devils of her + own sex, who visited this suffering angel, see her, and leave her, in so d——d + a nook? + </p> + <p> + Sir, we would have had the lady to accept of our own bed-chamber: but she + refused it. We are poor people—and we expect nobody will stay with + us longer than they can help it. + </p> + <p> + You are people chosen purposely, I doubt not, by the d——d + woman who has employed you: and if your usage of this lady has been but + half as bad as your house, you had better never to have seen the light. + </p> + <p> + Up then raised the charming sufferer her lovely face; but with such a + significance of woe overspreading it, that I could not, for the soul of + me, help being visibly affected. + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand two or three times towards the door, as if commanding + me to withdraw; and displeased at my intrusion; but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, Madam—I will not approach one step farther without your + leave —permit me, for one moment, the favour of your ear! + </p> + <p> + No—no—go, go, MAN! with an emphasis—and would have said + more; but, as if struggling in vain for words, she seemed to give up + speech for lost, and dropped her head down once more, with a deep sigh, + upon her left arm; her right, as if she had not the use of it (numbed, I + suppose) self-moved, dropping on her side. + </p> + <p> + O that thou hadst been there! and in my place!—But by what I then + felt, in myself, I am convinced, that a capacity of being moved by the + distresses of our fellow creatures, is far from being disgraceful to a + manly heart. With what pleasure, at that moment, could I have given up my + own life, could I but first have avenged this charming creature, and cut + the throat of her destroyer, as she emphatically calls thee, though the + friend that I best love: and yet, at the same time, my heart and my eyes + gave way to a softness of which (though not so hardened a wretch as thou) + they were never before so susceptible. + </p> + <p> + I dare not approach you, dearest lady, without your leave: but on my knees + I beseech you to permit me to release you from this d——d + house, and out of the power of the cursed woman, who was the occasion of + your being here! + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her sweet face once more, and beheld me on my knees. Never + knew I before what it was to pray so heartily. + </p> + <p> + Are you not—are you not Mr. Belford, Sir? I think your name is + Belford? + </p> + <p> + It is, Madam, and I ever was a worshipper of your virtues, and an advocate + for you; and I come to release you from the hands you are in. + </p> + <p> + And in whose to place me?—O leave me, leave me! let me never rise + from this spot! let me never, never more believe in man! + </p> + <p> + This moment, dearest lady, this very moment, if you please, you may depart + whithersoever you think fit. You are absolutely free, and your own + mistress. + </p> + <p> + I had now as lieve die here in this place, as any where. I will owe no + obligation to any friend of him in whose company you have seen me. So, + pray, Sir, withdraw. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the officer, Mr. Rowland I think your name is? I am better + reconciled to your house than I was at first. If you can but engage that I + shall have nobody come near me but your wife, (no man!) and neither of + those women who have sported with my calamities, I will die with you, and + in this very corner. And you shall be well satisfied for the trouble you + have had with me—I have value enough for that—for, see, I have + a diamond ring; taking it out of her bosom; and I have friends will redeem + it at a high price, when I am gone. + </p> + <p> + But for you, Sir, looking at me, I beg you to withdraw. If you mean well + by me, God, I hope, will reward you for your good meaning; but to the + friend of my destroyer will I not owe an obligation. + </p> + <p> + You will owe no obligation to me, nor to any body. You have been detained + for a debt you do not owe. The action is dismissed; and you will only be + so good as to give me your hand into the coach, which stands as near to + this house as it could draw up. And I will either leave you at the + coach-door, or attend you whithersoever you please, till I see you safe + where you would wish to be. + </p> + <p> + Will you then, Sir, compel me to be beholden to you? + </p> + <p> + You will inexpressibly oblige me, Madam, to command me to do you either + service or pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Why then, Sir, [looking at me]—but why do you mock me in that humble + posture! Rise, Sir! I cannot speak to you else. + </p> + <p> + I rose. + </p> + <p> + Only, Sir, take this ring. I have a sister, who will be glad to have it, + at the price it shall be valued at, for the former owner's sake!—Out + of the money she gives, let this man be paid! handsomely paid: and I have + a few valuables more at my lodging, (Dorcas, or the MAN William, can tell + where that is;) let them, and my clothes at the wicked woman's, where you + have seen me, be sold for the payment of my lodging first, and next of + your friend's debts, that I have been arrested for, as far as they will + go; only reserving enough to put me into the ground, any where, or any + how, no matter——Tell your friend, I wish it may be enough to + satisfy the whole demand; but if it be not, he must make it up himself; + or, if he think fit to draw for it on Miss Howe, she will repay it, and + with interest, if he insist upon it.——And this, Sir, if you + promise to perform, you will do me, as you offer, both pleasure and + service: and say you will, and take the ring and withdraw. If I want to + say any thing more to you (you seem to be an humane man) I will let you + know——and so, Sir, God bless you! + </p> + <p> + I approached her, and was going to speak—— + </p> + <p> + Don't speak, Sir: here's the ring. + </p> + <p> + I stood off. + </p> + <p> + And won't you take it? won't you do this last office for me?—I have + no other person to ask it of; else, believe me, I would not request it of + you. But take it, or not, laying it upon the table——you must + withdraw, Sir: I am very ill. I would fain get a little rest, if I could. + I find I am going to be bad again. + </p> + <p> + And offering to rise, she sunk down through excess of weakness and grief, + in a fainting fit. + </p> + <p> + Why, Lovelace, was thou not present thyself?——Why dost thou + commit such villanies, as even thou art afraid to appear in; and yet + puttest a weaker heart and head upon encountering with them? + </p> + <p> + The maid coming in just then, the woman and she lifted her up on a + decrepit couch; and I withdrew with this Rowland; who wept like a child, + and said, he never in his life was so moved. + </p> + <p> + Yet so hardened a wretch art thou, that I question whether thou wilt shed + a tear at my relation. + </p> + <p> + They recovered her by hartshorn and water. I went down mean while; for the + detestable woman had been below some time. O how I did curse her! I never + before was so fluent in curses. + </p> + <p> + She tried to wheedle me; but I renounced her; and, after she had dismissed + the action, sent her away crying, or pretending to cry, because of my + behaviour to her. + </p> + <p> + You will observe, that I did not mention one word to the lady about you. I + was afraid to do it. For 'twas plain, that she could not bear your name: + your friend, and the company you have seen me in, were the words nearest + to naming you she could speak: and yet I wanted to clear your intention of + this brutal, this sordid-looking villany. + </p> + <p> + I sent up again, by Rowland's wife, when I heard that the lady was + recovered, beseeching her to quit that devilish place; and the woman + assured her that she was at liberty to do so, for that the action was + dismissed. + </p> + <p> + But she cared not to answer her: and was so weak and low, that it was + almost as much out of her power as inclination, the woman told me, to + speak. + </p> + <p> + I would have hastened away for my friend Doctor H., but the house is such + a den, and the room she was in such a hole, that I was ashamed to be seen + in it by a man of his reputation, especially with a woman of such an + appearance, and in such uncommon distress; and I found there was no + prevailing upon her to quit it for the people's bed-room, which was neat + and lightsome. + </p> + <p> + The strong room she was in, the wretches told me, should have been in + better order, but that it was but the very morning that she was brought in + that an unhappy man had quitted it; for a more eligible prison, no doubt; + since there could hardly be a worse. + </p> + <p> + Being told that she desired not to be disturbed, and seemed inclined to + doze, I took this opportunity to go to her lodgings in Covent-garden: to + which Dorcas (who first discovered her there, as Will. was the setter from + church) had before given me a direction. + </p> + <p> + The man's name is Smith, a dealer in gloves, snuff, and such petty + merchandize: his wife the shopkeeper: he a maker of the gloves they sell. + Honest people, it seems. + </p> + <p> + I thought to have got the woman with me to the lady; but she was not + within. + </p> + <p> + I talked with the man, and told him what had befallen the lady; owing, as + I said, to a mistake of orders; and gave her the character she deserved; + and desired him to send his wife, the moment she came in, to the lady; + directing him whither; not doubting that her attendance would be very + welcome to her; which he promised. + </p> + <p> + He told me that a letter was left for her there on Saturday; and, about + half an hour before I came, another, superscribed by the same hand; the + first, by the post; the other, by a countryman; who having been informed + of her absence, and of all the circumstances they could tell him of it, + posted away, full of concern, saying, that the lady he was sent from would + be ready to break her heart at the tidings. + </p> + <p> + I thought it right to take the two letters back with me; and, dismissing + my coach, took a chair, as a more proper vehicle for the lady, if I (the + friend of her destroyer) could prevail upon her to leave Rowland's. + </p> + <p> + And here, being obliged to give way to an indispensable avocation, I will + make thee taste a little, in thy turn, of the plague of suspense; and + break off, without giving thee the least hint of the issue of my further + proceedings. I know, that those least bear disappointment, who love most + to give it. In twenty instances, hast thou afforded me proof of the truth + of this observation. And I matter not thy raving. + </p> + <p> + Another letter, however, shall be ready, send for it a soon as thou wilt. + But, were it not, have I not written enough to convince thee, that I am + </p> + <p> + Thy ready and obliging friend, J. BELFORD. + </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 XVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, JULY 17, ELEVEN AT NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + Curse upon thy hard heart, thou vile caitiff! How hast thou tortured me, + by thy designed abruption! 'tis impossible that Miss Harlowe should have + ever suffered as thou hast made me suffer, and as I now suffer! + </p> + <p> + That sex is made to bear pain. It is a curse that the first of it entailed + upon all her daughters, when she brought the curse upon us all. And they + love those best, whether man or child, who give them most—But to + stretch upon thy d——d tenter-hooks such a spirit as mine—No + rack, no torture, can equal my torture! + </p> + <p> + And must I still wait the return of another messenger? + </p> + <p> + Confound thee for a malicious devil! I wish thou wert a post-horse, and I + upon the back of thee! how would I whip and spur, and harrow up thy clumsy + sides, till I make thee a ready-roasted, ready-flayed, mess of dog's meat; + all the hounds in the country howling after thee, as I drove thee, to wait + my dismounting, in order to devour thee piece-meal; life still throbbing + in each churned mouthful! + </p> + <p> + Give this fellow the sequel of thy tormenting scribble. + </p> + <p> + Dispatch him away with it. Thou hast promised it shall be ready. Every + cushion or chair I shall sit upon, the bed I shall lie down upon (if I go + to bed) till he return, will be stuffed with bolt-upright awls, bodkins, + corking-pins, and packing needles: already I can fancy that, to pink my + body like my mind, I need only to be put into a hogshead stuck full of + steel-pointed spikes, and rolled down a hill three times as high as the + Monument. + </p> + <p> + But I lose time; yet know not how to employ it till this fellow returns + with the sequel of thy soul-harrowing intelligence! + </p> + <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 XVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. MONDAY NIGHT, JULY 17. + </p> + <p> + On my return to Rowland's, I found that the apothecary was just gone up. + Mrs. Rowland being above with him, I made the less scruple to go up too, + as it was probable, that to ask for leave would be to ask to be denied; + hoping also, that the letters had with me would be a good excuse. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on the side of the broken couch, extremely weak and low; + and, I observed, cared not to speak to the man: and no wonder; for I never + saw a more shocking fellow, of a profession tolerably genteel, nor heard a + more illiterate one prate—physician in ordinary to this house, and + others like it, I suppose! He put me in mind of Otway's apothecary in his + Caius Marius; as borrowed from the immortal Shakspeare: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Meagre and very rueful were his looks: + Sharp misery had worn him to the bones. + —————— Famine in his cheeks: + Need and oppression staring in his eyes: + Contempt and beggary hanging on his back: + The world no friend of his, nor the world's law. +</pre> + <p> + As I am in black, he took me, at my entrance, I believe, to be a doctor; + and slunk behind me with his hat upon his two thumbs, and looked as if he + expected the oracle to open, and give him orders. + </p> + <p> + The lady looked displeased, as well at me as at Rowland, who followed me, + and at the apothecary. It was not, she said, the least of her present + misfortunes, that she could not be left to her own sex; and to her option + to see whom she pleased. + </p> + <p> + I besought her excuse; and winking for the apothecary to withdraw, [which + he did,] told her, that I had been at her new lodgings, to order every + thing to be got ready for reception, presuming she would choose to go + thither: that I had a chair at the door: that Mr. Smith and his wife [I + named their names, that she should not have room for the least fear of + Sinclair's] had been full of apprehensions for her safety: that I had + brought two letters, which were left there fore her; the one by the post, + the other that very morning. + </p> + <p> + This took her attention. She held out her charming hand for them; took + them, and, pressing them to her lips—From the only friend I have in + the world! said she; kissing them again; and looking at the seals, as if + to see whether they had been opened. I can't read them, said she, my eyes + are too dim; and put them into her bosom. + </p> + <p> + I besought her to think of quitting that wretched hole. + </p> + <p> + Whither could she go, she asked, to be safe and uninterrupted for the + short remainder of her life; and to avoid being again visited by the + creatures who had insulted her before? + </p> + <p> + I gave her the solemnest assurances that she should not be invaded in her + new lodgings by any body; and said that I would particularly engage my + honour, that the person who had most offended her should not come near + her, without her own consent. + </p> + <p> + Your honour, Sir! Are you not that man's friend! + </p> + <p> + I am not a friend, Madam, to his vile actions to the most excellent of + women. + </p> + <p> + Do you flatter me, Sir? then you are a MAN.—But Oh, Sir, your + friend, holding her face forward with great earnestness, your barbarous + friend, what has he not to answer for! + </p> + <p> + There she stopt: her heart full; and putting her hand over her eyes and + forehead, the tears tricked through her fingers: resenting thy barbarity, + it seemed, as Caesar did the stab from his distinguished Brutus! + </p> + <p> + Though she was so very much disordered, I thought I would not lose this + opportunity to assert your innocence of this villanous arrest. + </p> + <p> + There is no defending the unhappy man in any of his vile actions by you, + Madam; but of this last outrage, by all that's good and sacred, he is + innocent. + </p> + <p> + O wretches; what a sex is your's!—Have you all one dialect? good and + sacred!—If, Sir, you can find an oath, or a vow, or an adjuration, + that my ears have not been twenty times a day wounded with, then speak it, + and I may again believe a MAN. + </p> + <p> + I was excessively touched at these words, knowing thy baseness, and the + reason she had for them. + </p> + <p> + But say you, Sir, for I would not, methinks, have the wretch capable of + this sordid baseness!—Say you, that he is innocent of this last + wickedness? can you truly say that he is? + </p> + <p> + By the great God of Heaven!—— + </p> + <p> + Nay, Sir, if you swear, I must doubt you!—If you yourself think your + WORD insufficient, what reliance can I have on your OATH!—O that + this my experience had not cost me so dear! but were I to love a thousand + years, I would always suspect the veracity of a swearer. Excuse me, Sir; + but is it likely, that he who makes so free with his GOD, will scruple any + thing that may serve his turn with his fellow creature? + </p> + <p> + This was a most affecting reprimand! + </p> + <p> + Madam, said I, I have a regard, a regard a gentleman ought to have, to my + word; and whenever I forfeit it to you—— + </p> + <p> + Nay, Sir, don't be angry with me. It is grievous to me to question a + gentleman's veracity. But your friend calls himself a gentleman—you + know not what I have suffered by a gentleman!——And then again + she wept. + </p> + <p> + I would give you, Madam, demonstration, if your grief and your weakness + would permit it, that he has no hand in this barbarous baseness: and that + he resents it as it ought to be resented. + </p> + <p> + Well, well, Sir, [with quickness,] he will have his account to make up + somewhere else; not to me. I should not be sorry to find him able to + acquit his intention on this occasion. Let him know, Sir, only one thing, + that when you heard me in the bitterness of my spirit, most vehemently + exclaim against the undeserved usage I have met with from him, that even + then, in that passionate moment, I was able to say [and never did I see + such an earnest and affecting exultation of hands and eyes,] 'Give him, + good God! repentance and amendment; that I may be the last poor creature, + who shall be ruined by him!—and, in thine own good time, receive to + thy mercy the poor wretch who had none on me!—' + </p> + <p> + By my soul, I could not speak.—She had not her Bible before her for + nothing. + </p> + <p> + I was forced to turn my head away, and to take out my handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + What an angel is this!—Even the gaoler, and his wife and maid, wept. + </p> + <p> + Again I wish thou hadst been there, that thou mightest have sunk down at + her feet, and begun that moment to reap the effect of her generous wishes + for thee; undeserving, as thou art, of any thing but perdition. + </p> + <p> + I represented to her that she would be less free where she was from visits + she liked not, than at her own lodgings. I told her, that it would + probably bring her, in particular, one visiter, who, otherwise I would + engage, [but I durst not swear again, after the severe reprimand she had + just given me,] should not come near her, without her consent. And I + expressed my surprize, that she should be unwilling to quit such a place + as this; when it was more than probable that some of her friends, when it + was known how bad she was, would visit her. + </p> + <p> + She said the place, when she was first brought into it, was indeed very + shocking to her: but that she had found herself so weak and ill, and her + griefs had so sunk her, that she did not expect to have lived till now: + that therefore all places had been alike to her; for to die in a prison, + was to die; and equally eligible as to die in a palace, [palaces, she + said, could have no attractions for a dying person:] but that, since she + feared she was not so soon to be released, as she had hoped; since she was + suffered to be so little mistress of herself here; and since she might, by + removal, be in the way of her dear friend's letters; she would hope that + she might depend upon the assurances I gave her of being at liberty to + return to her last lodgings, (otherwise she would provide herself with new + ones, out of my knowledge, as well as your's;) and that I was too much of + a gentleman, to be concerned in carrying her back to the house she had so + much reason to abhor, and to which she had been once before most vilely + betrayed to her ruin. + </p> + <p> + I assured her, in the strongest terms [but swore not,] that you were + resolved not to molest her: and, as a proof of the sincerity of my + professions, besought her to give me directions, (in pursuance of my + friend's express desire,) about sending all her apparel, and whatever + belonged to her, to her new lodgings. + </p> + <p> + She seemed pleased; and gave me instantly out of her pocket her keys; + asking me, If Mrs. Smith, whom I had named, might not attend me; and she + would give her further directions? To which I cheerfully assented; and + then she told me that she would accept of the chair I had offered her. + </p> + <p> + I withdrew; and took the opportunity to be civil to Rowland and his maid; + for she found no fault with their behaviour, for what they were; and the + fellow seems to be miserably poor. I sent also for the apothecary, who is + as poor as the officer, (and still poorer, I dare say, as to the skill + required in his business,) and satisfied him beyond his hopes. + </p> + <p> + The lady, after I had withdrawn, attempted to read the letters I had + brought her. But she could read but a little way in one of them, and had + great emotions upon it. + </p> + <p> + She told the woman she would take a speedy opportunity to acknowledge her + civilities and her husband's, and to satisfy the apothecary, who might + send her his bill to her lodgings. + </p> + <p> + She gave the maid something; probably the only half-guinea she had: and + then with difficulty, her limbs trembling under her, and supported by Mrs. + Rowland, got down stairs. + </p> + <p> + I offered my arm: she was pleased to lean upon it. I doubt, Sir, said she, + as she moved, I have behaved rudely to you: but, if you knew all, you + would forgive me. + </p> + <p> + I know enough, Madam, to convince me, that there is not such purity and + honour in any woman upon earth; nor any one that has been so barbarously + treated. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me very earnestly. What she thought, I cannot say; but, in + general, I never saw so much soul in a woman's eyes as in her's. + </p> + <p> + I ordered my servant, (whose mourning made him less observable as such, + and who had not been in the lady's eye,) to keep the chair in view; and to + bring me word, how she did, when set down. The fellow had the thought to + step into the shop, just before the chair entered it, under pretence of + buying snuff; and so enabled himself to give me an account, that she was + received with great joy by the good woman of the house; who told her, she + was but just come in; and was preparing to attend her in High Holborn.—O + Mrs. Smith, said she, as soon as she saw her, did you not think I was run + away?—You don't know what I have suffered since I saw you. I have + been in a prison!——Arrested for debts I owe not!—But, + thank God, I am here!—Will your maid—I have forgot her name + already—— + </p> + <p> + Catharine, Madam—— + </p> + <p> + Will you let Catharine assist me to bed?—I have not had my clothes + off since Thursday night. + </p> + <p> + What she further said the fellow heard not, she leaning upon the maid, and + going up stairs. + </p> + <p> + But dost thou not observe, what a strange, what an uncommon openness of + heart reigns in this lady? She had been in a prison, she said, before a + stranger in the shop, and before the maid-servant: and so, probably, she + would have said, had there been twenty people in the shop. + </p> + <p> + The disgrace she cannot hide from herself, as she says in her letter to + Lady Betty, she is not solicitous to conceal from the world! + </p> + <p> + But this makes it evident to me, that she is resolved to keep no terms + with thee. And yet to be able to put up such a prayer for thee, as she did + in her prison; [I will often mention the prison-room, to tease thee!] Does + this not show, that revenge has very little sway in her mind; though she + can retain so much proper resentment? + </p> + <p> + And this is another excellence in this admirable woman's character: for + whom, before her, have we met with in the whole sex, or in ours either, + that knew how, in practice, to distinguish between REVENGE and RESENTMENT, + for base and ungrateful treatment? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis a cursed thing, after all, that such a woman as this should be + treated as she has been treated. Hadst thou been a king, and done as thou + hast done by such a meritorious innocent, I believe, in my heart, it would + have been adjudged to be a national sin, and the sword, the pestilence, or + famine, must have atoned for it!—But as thou art a private man, thou + wilt certainly meet with thy punishment, (besides what thou mayest expect + from the justice of the country, and the vengeance of her friends,) as she + will her reward, HEREAFTER. + </p> + <p> + It must be so, if there be really such a thing as future remuneration; as + now I am more and more convinced there must:—Else, what a hard fate + is her's, whose punishment, to all appearance, has so much exceeded her + fault? And, as to thine, how can temporary burnings, wert thou by some + accident to be consumed in thy bed, expiate for thy abominable vileness to + her, in breach of all obligations moral and divine? + </p> + <p> + I was resolved to lose no time in having every thing which belonged to the + lady at the cursed woman's sent her. Accordingly, I took coach to Smith's, + and procured the lady, (to whom I sent up my compliments, and inquiries + how she bore her removal,) ill as she sent down word she was, to give + proper direction to Mrs. Smith: whom I took with me to Sinclair's: and who + saw every thing looked out, and put into the trunks and boxes they were + first brought in, and carried away in two coaches. + </p> + <p> + Had I not been there, Sally and Polly would each of them have taken to + herself something of the poor lady's spoils. This they declared: and I had + some difficulty to get from Sally a fine Brussels-lace head, which she had + the confidence to say she would wear for Miss Harlowe's sake. Nor should + either I or Mrs. Smith have known she had got it, had she not been in + search of the ruffles belonging to it. + </p> + <p> + My resentment on this occasion, and the conversation which Mrs. Smith and + I had, (in which I not only expatiated on the merits of the lady, but + expressed my concern for her sufferings; though I left her room to suppose + her married, yet without averring it,) gave me high credit with the good + woman: so that we are perfectly well acquainted already: by which means I + shall be enabled to give you accounts from time to time of all that + passes; and which I will be very industrious to do, provided I may depend + upon the solemn promises I have given the lady, in your name, as well as + in my own, that she shall be free from all personal molestation from you. + And thus shall I have it in my power to return in kind your writing + favours; and preserve my short-hand besides: which, till this + correspondence was opened, I had pretty much neglected. + </p> + <p> + I ordered the abandoned women to make out your account. They answered, + That they would do it with a vengeance. Indeed they breathe nothing but + vengeance. For now, they say, you will assuredly marry; and your example + will be followed by all your friends and companions—as the old one + says, to the utter ruin of her poor house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY MORN. JULY 18, SIX O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + Having sat up so late to finish and seal in readiness my letter to the + above period, I am disturbed before I wished to have risen, by the arrival + of thy second fellow, man and horse in a foam. + </p> + <p> + While he baits, I will write a few lines, most heartily to congratulate + thee on thy expected rage and impatience, and on thy recovery of mental + feeling. + </p> + <p> + How much does the idea thou givest me of thy deserved torments, by thy + upright awls, bodkins, pins, and packing-needles, by thy rolling hogshead + with iron spikes, and by thy macerated sides, delight me! + </p> + <p> + I will, upon every occasion that offers, drive more spikes into thy + hogshead, and roll thee down hill, and up, as thou recoverest to sense, or + rather returnest back to senselessness. Thou knowest therefore the terms + on which thou art to enjoy my correspondence. Am not I, who have all + along, and in time, protested against thy barbarous and ungrateful + perfidies to a woman so noble, entitled to drive remorse, if possible, + into thy hitherto-callous heart? + </p> + <p> + Only let me repeat one thing, which perhaps I mentioned too slightly + before. That the lady was determined to remove to new lodgings, where + neither you nor I should be able to find her, had I not solemnly assured + her, that she might depend upon being free from your visits. + </p> + <p> + These assurances I thought I might give her, not only because of your + promise, but because it is necessary for you to know where she is, in + order to address yourself to her by your friends. + </p> + <p> + Enable me therefore to make good to her this my solemn engagement; or + adieu to all friendship, at least to all correspondence, with thee for + ever. + </p> + <p> + J. BELFORD. <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XX + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY, JULY 18. AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + I renewed my inquiries after the lady's health, in the morning, by my + servant: and, as soon as I had dined, I went myself. + </p> + <p> + I had but a poor account of it: yet sent up my compliments. She returned + me thanks for all my good offices; and her excuses, that they could not be + personal just then, being very low and faint: but if I gave myself the + trouble of coming about six this evening, she should be able, she hoped, + to drink a dish of tea with me, and would then thank me herself. + </p> + <p> + I am very proud of this condescension; and think it looks not amiss for + you, as I am your avowed friend. Methinks I want fully to remove from her + mind all doubts of you in this last villanous action: and who knows then + what your noble relations may be able to do for you with her, if you hold + your mind? For your servant acquainted me with their having actually + engaged Miss Howe in their and your favour, before this cursed affair + happened. And I desire the particulars of all from yourself, that I may + the better know how to serve you. + </p> + <p> + She has two handsome apartments, a bed-chamber and dining-room, with light + closets in each. She has already a nurse, (the people of the house having + but one maid,) a woman whose care, diligence, and honesty, Mrs. Smith + highly commends. She has likewise the benefit of a widow gentlewoman, Mrs. + Lovick her name, who lodges over her apartment, and of whom she seems very + fond, having found something in her, she thinks, resembling the qualities + of her worthy Mrs. Norton. + </p> + <p> + About seven o'clock this morning, it seems, the lady was so ill, that she + yielded to their desires to have an apothecary sent for—not the + fellow, thou mayest believe, she had had before at Rowland's; but one Mr. + Goddard, a man of skill and eminence; and of conscience too; demonstrated + as well by general character, as by his prescriptions to this lady: for + pronouncing her case to be grief, he ordered, for the present, only + innocent juleps, by way of cordial; and, as soon as her stomach should be + able to bear it, light kitchen-diet; telling Mrs. Lovick, that that, with + air, moderate exercise, and cheerful company, would do her more good than + all the medicines in his shop. + </p> + <p> + This has given me, as it seems it has the lady, (who also praises his + modest behaviour, paternal looks, and genteel address,) a very good + opinion of the man; and I design to make myself acquainted with him, and, + if he advises to call in a doctor, to wish him, for the fair patient's + sake, more than the physician's, (who wants not practice,) my worthy + friend Dr. H.—whose character is above all exception, as his + humanity, I am sure, will distinguish him to the lady. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick gratified me with an account of a letter she had written from + the lady's mouth to Miss Howe; she being unable to write herself with + steadiness. + </p> + <p> + It was to this effect; in answer, it seems, to her two letters, whatever + were the contents of them: + </p> + <p> + 'That she had been involved in a dreadful calamity, which she was sure, + when known, would exempt her from the effects of her friendly displeasure, + for not answering her first; having been put under an arrest.—Could + she have believed it?—That she was released but the day before: and + was now so weak and so low, that she was obliged to account thus for her + silence to her [Miss Howe's] two letters of the 13th and 16th: that she + would, as soon as able, answer them—begged of her, mean time, not to + be uneasy for her; since (only that this was a calamity which came upon + her when she was far from being well, a load laid upon the shoulders of a + poor wretch, ready before to sink under too heavy a burden) it was nothing + to the evil she had before suffered: and one felicity seemed likely to + issue from it; which was, that she would be at rest, in an honest house, + with considerate and kind-hearted people; having assurance given her, that + she should not be molested by the wretch, whom it would be death for her + to see: so that now she, [Miss Howe,] needed not to send to her by private + and expensive conveyances: nor need Collins to take precautions for fear + of being dogged to her lodgings; nor need she write by a fictitious name + to her, but by her own.' + </p> + <p> + You can see I am in a way to oblige you: you see how much she depends upon + my engaging for your forbearing to intrude yourself into her company: let + not your flaming impatience destroy all; and make me look like a villain + to a lady who has reason to suspect every man she sees to be so.—Upon + this condition, you may expect all the services that can flow from + </p> + <p> + Your sincere well-wisher, J. BELFORD. + </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 XXI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. TUESDAY NIGHT, JULY 18. + </p> + <p> + I am just come from the lady. I was admitted into the dining-room, where + she was sitting in an elbow-chair, in a very weak and low way. She made an + effort to stand up when I entered; but was forced to keep her seat. You'll + excuse me, Mr. Belford: I ought to rise to thank you for all your kindness + to me. I was to blame to be so loth to leave that sad place; for I am in + heaven here, to what I was there; and good people about me too!—I + have not had good people about me for a long, long time before; so that + [with a half-smile] I had begun to wonder whither they were all gone. + </p> + <p> + Her nurse and Mrs. Smith, who were present, took occasion to retire: and, + when we were alone, You seem to be a person of humanity, Sir, said she: + you hinted, as I was leaving my prison, that you were not a stranger to my + sad story. If you know it truly, you must know that I have been most + barbarously treated; and have not deserved it at the man's hands by whom I + have suffered. + </p> + <p> + I told her I knew enough to be convinced that she had the merit of a + saint, and the purity of an angel: and was proceeding, when she said, No + flighty compliments! no undue attributes, Sir! + </p> + <p> + I offered to plead for my sincerity; and mentioned the word politeness; + and would have distinguished between that and flattery. Nothing can be + polite, said she, that is not just: whatever I may have had; I have now no + vanity to gratify. + </p> + <p> + I disclaimed all intentions of compliment: all I had said, and what I + should say, was, and should be, the effect of sincere veneration. My + unhappy friend's account of her had entitled her to that. + </p> + <p> + I then mentioned your grief, your penitence, your resolutions of making + her all the amends that were possible now to be made her: and in the most + earnest manner, I asserted your innocence as to the last villanous + outrage. + </p> + <p> + Her answer was to this effect—It is painful to me to think of him. + The amends you talk of cannot be made. This last violence you speak of, is + nothing to what preceded it. That cannot be atoned for: nor palliated: + this may: and I shall not be sorry to be convinced that he cannot be + guilty of so very low a wickedness.——Yet, after his vile + forgeries of hands—after his baseness in imposing upon me the most + infamous persons as ladies of honour of his own family—what are the + iniquities he is not capable of? + </p> + <p> + I would then have given her an account of the trial you stood with your + friends: your own previous resolutions of marriage, had she honoured you + with the requested four words: all your family's earnestness to have the + honour of her alliance: and the application of your two cousins to Miss + Howe, by general consent, for that young lady's interest with her: but, + having just touched upon these topics, she cut me short, saying, that was + a cause before another tribunal: Miss Howe's letters to her were upon the + subject; and as she would write her thoughts to her as soon as she was + able. + </p> + <p> + I then attempted more particularly to clear you of having any hand in the + vile Sinclair's officious arrest; a point she had the generosity to wish + you cleared of: and, having mentioned the outrageous letter you had + written to me on this occasion, she asked, If I had that letter about me? + </p> + <p> + I owned I had. + </p> + <p> + She wished to see it. + </p> + <p> + This puzzled me horribly: for you must needs think that most of the free + things, which, among us rakes, pass for wit and spirit, must be shocking + stuff to the ears or eyes of persons of delicacy of that sex: and then + such an air of levity runs through thy most serious letters; such a false + bravery, endeavouring to carry off ludicrously the subjects that most + affect thee; that those letters are generally the least fit to be seen, + which ought to be most to thy credit. + </p> + <p> + Something like this I observed to her; and would fain have excused myself + from showing it: but she was so earnest, that I undertook to read some + parts of it, resolving to omit the most exceptionable. + </p> + <p> + I know thou'lt curse me for that; but I thought it better to oblige her + than to be suspected myself; and so not have it in my power to serve thee + with her, when so good a foundation was laid for it; and when she knows as + bad of thee as I can tell her. + </p> + <p> + Thou rememberest the contents, I suppose, of thy furious letter.* Her + remarks upon the different parts of it, which I read to her, were to the + following effect: + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Upon the last two lines, All undone! undone, by Jupiter! Zounds, Jack, + what shall I do now? a curse upon all my plots and contrivances! thus she + expressed herself: + </p> + <p> + 'O how light, how unaffected with the sense of its own crimes, is the + heart that could dictate to the pen this libertine froth?' + </p> + <p> + The paragraph which mentions the vile arrest affected her a good deal. + </p> + <p> + In the next I omitted thy curse upon thy relations, whom thou wert + gallanting: and read on the seven subsequent paragraphs down to thy + execrable wish; which was too shocking to read to her. What I read + produced the following reflections from her: + </p> + <p> + 'The plots and contrivances which he curses, and the exultings of the + wicked wretches on finding me out, show me that all his guilt was + premeditated: nor doubt I that his dreadful perjuries, and inhuman arts, + as he went along, were to pass for fine stratagems; for witty sport; and + to demonstrate a superiority of inventive talents!—O my cruel, cruel + brother! had it not been for thee, I had not been thrown upon so + pernicious and so despicable a plotter!—But proceed, Sir; pray + proceed.' + </p> + <p> + At that part, Canst thou, O fatal prognosticator! tell me where my + punishment will end?—she sighed. And when I came to that sentence, + praying for my reformation, perhaps—Is that there? said she, sighing + again. Wretched man!—and shed a tear for thee.—By my faith, + Lovelace, I believe she hates thee not! she has at least a concern, a + generous concern for thy future happiness—What a noble creature hast + thou injured! + </p> + <p> + She made a very severe reflection upon me, on reading the words—On + your knees, for me, beg her pardon—'You had all your lessons, Sir, + said she, when you came to redeem me—You was so condescending as to + kneel: I thought it was the effect of your own humanity, and good-natured + earnestness to serve me—excuse me, Sir, I knew not that it was in + consequence of a prescribed lesson.' + </p> + <p> + This concerned me not a little; I could not bear to be thought such a + wretched puppet, such a Joseph Leman, such a Tomlinson. I endeavoured, + therefore, with some warmth, to clear myself of this reflection; and she + again asked my excuse: 'I was avowedly, she said, the friend of a man, + whose friendship, she had reason to be sorry to say, was no credit to any + body.'—And desired me to proceed. + </p> + <p> + I did; but fared not much better afterwards: for on that passage where you + say, I had always been her friend and advocate, this was her unanswerable + remark: 'I find, Sir, by this expression, that he had always designs + against me; and that you all along knew that he had. Would to Heaven, you + had had the goodness to have contrived some way, that might not have + endangered your own safety, to give me notice of his baseness, since you + approved not of it! But you gentlemen, I suppose, had rather see an + innocent fellow-creature ruined, than be thought capable of an action, + which, however generous, might be likely to loosen the bands of a wicked + friendship!' + </p> + <p> + After this severe, but just reflection, I would have avoided reading the + following, although I had unawares begun the sentence, (but she held me to + it:) What would I now give, had I permitted you to have been a successful + advocate! And this was her remark upon it—'So, Sir, you see, if you + had been the happy means of preventing the evils designed me, you would + have had your friend's thanks for it when he came to his consideration. + This satisfaction, I am persuaded every one, in the long run, will enjoy, + who has the virtue to withstand, or prevent, a wicked purpose. I was + obliged, I see, to your kind wishes—but it was a point of honour + with you to keep his secret; the more indispensable with you, perhaps, the + viler the secret. Yet permit me to wish, Mr. Belford, that you were + capable of relishing the pleasures that arise to a benevolent mind from + VIRTUOUS friendship!—none other is worthy of the sacred name. You + seem an humane man: I hope, for your own sake, you will one day experience + the difference: and, when you do, think of Miss Howe and Clarissa Harlowe, + (I find you know much of my sad story,) who were the happiest creatures on + earth in each other's friendship till this friend of your's'—And + there she stopt, and turned from me. + </p> + <p> + Where thou callest thyself a villanous plotter; 'To take a crime to + himself, said she, without shame, O what a hardened wretch is this man!' + </p> + <p> + On that passage, where thou sayest, Let me know how she has been treated: + if roughly, woe be to the guilty! this was her remark, with an air of + indignation: 'What a man is your friend, Sir!—Is such a one as he to + set himself up to punish the guilty?—All the rough usage I could + receive from them, was infinitely less'—And there she stopt a moment + or two: then proceeding—'And who shall punish him? what an assuming + wretch!— Nobody but himself is entitled to injure the innocent;—he + is, I suppose, on the earth, to act the part which the malignant fiend is + supposed to act below—dealing out punishments, at his pleasure, to + every inferior instrument of mischief!' + </p> + <p> + What, thought I, have I been doing! I shall have this savage fellow think + I have been playing him booty, in reading part of his letter to this + sagacious lady!—Yet, if thou art angry, it can only, in reason, be + at thyself; for who would think I might not communicate to her some of thy + sincerity in exculpating thyself from a criminal charge, which thou + wrotest to thy friend, to convince him of thy innocence? But a bad heart, + and a bad cause are confounded things: and so let us put it to its proper + account. + </p> + <p> + I passed over thy charge to me, to curse them by the hour; and thy names + of dragon and serpents, though so applicable; since, had I read them, thou + must have been supposed to know from the first what creatures they were; + vile fellow as thou wert, for bringing so much purity among them! And I + closed with thy own concluding paragraph, A line! a line! a kingdom for a + line! &c. However, telling her (since she saw that I omitted some + sentences) that there were farther vehemences in it; but as they were + better fitted to show to me the sincerity of the writer than for so + delicate an ear as her's to hear, I chose to pass them over. + </p> + <p> + You have read enough, said she—he is a wicked, wicked man!—I + see he intended to have me in his power at any rate; and I have no doubt + of what his purposes were, by what his actions have been. You know his + vile Tomlinson, I suppose—You know—But what signifies talking?—Never + was there such a premeditated false heart in man, [nothing can be truer, + thought I!] What has he not vowed! what has he not invented! and all for + what?—Only to ruin a poor young creature, whom he ought to have + protected; and whom he had first deceived of all other protection! + </p> + <p> + She arose and turned from me, her handkerchief at her eyes: and, after a + pause, came towards me again—'I hope, said she, I talk to a man who + has a better heart: and I thank you, Sir, for all your kind, though + ineffectual pleas in my favour formerly, whether the motives for them were + compassion, or principle, or both. That they were ineffectual, might very + probably be owing to your want of earnestness; and that, as you might + think, to my want of merit. I might not, in your eye, deserve to be saved!—I + might appear to you a giddy creature, who had run away from her true and + natural friends; and who therefore ought to take the consequence of the + lot she had drawn.' + </p> + <p> + I was afraid, for thy sake, to let her know how very earnest I had been: + but assured her that I had been her zealous friend; and that my motives + were founded upon a merit, that, I believed, was never equaled: that, + however indefensible Mr. Lovelace was, he had always done justice to her + virtue: that to a full conviction of her untainted honour it was owing + that he so earnestly desired to call so inestimable a jewel his—and + was proceeding, when she again cut me short— + </p> + <p> + Enough, and too much, of this subject, Sir!—If he will never more + let me behold his face, that is all I have now to ask of him.—Indeed, + indeed, clasping her hands, I never will, if I can, by any means not + criminally desperate, avoid it. + </p> + <p> + What could I say for thee?—There was no room, however, at that time, + to touch this string again, for fear of bringing upon myself a + prohibition, not only of the subject, but of ever attending her again. + </p> + <p> + I gave some distant intimations of money-matters. I should have told thee, + when I read to her that passage, where thou biddest me force what sums + upon her I can get her to take—she repeated, No, no, no, no! several + times with great quickness; and I durst no more than just intimate it + again—and that so darkly, as left her room to seem not to understand + me. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I know not the person, man or woman, I should be so much afraid of + disobliging, or incurring a censure from, as from her. She has so much + true dignity in her manner, without pride or arrogance, (which, in those + who have either, one is tempted to mortify,) such a piercing eye, yet + softened so sweetly with rays of benignity, that she commands all one's + reverence. + </p> + <p> + Methinks I have a kind of holy love for this angel of a woman; and it is + matter of astonishment to me, that thou couldst converse with her a + quarter of an hour together, and hold thy devilish purposes. + </p> + <p> + Guarded as she was by piety, prudence, virtue, dignity, family, fortune, + and a purity of heart that never woman before her boasted, what a real + devil must he be (yet I doubt I shall make thee proud!) who could resolve + to break through so many fences! + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I am more and more sensible that I ought not to have + contented myself with representing against, and expostulating with thee + upon, thy base intentions: and indeed I had it in my head, more than once, + to try to do something for her. But, wretch that I was! I was with-held by + notions of false honour, as she justly reproached me, because of thy own + voluntary communications to me of thy purposes: and then, as she was + brought into such a cursed house, and was so watched by thyself, as well + as by thy infernal agents, I thought (knowing my man!) that I should only + accelerate the intended mischiefs.—Moreover, finding thee so much + over-awed by her virtue, that thou hadst not, at thy first carrying her + thither, the courage to attempt her; and that she had, more than once, + without knowing thy base views, obliged thee to abandon them, and to + resolve to do her justice, and thyself honour; I hardly doubted, that her + merit would be triumphant at last. + </p> + <p> + It is my opinion, (if thou holdest thy purposes to marry,) that thou canst + not do better than to procure thy real aunts, and thy real cousins, to pay + her a visit, and to be thy advocates. But if they decline personal visits, + letters from them, and from my Lord M. supported by Miss Howe's interest, + may, perhaps, effect something in thy favour. + </p> + <p> + But these are only my hopes, founded on what I wish for thy sake. The + lady, I really think, would choose death rather than thee: and the two + women are of opinion, though they knew not half of what she has suffered, + that her heart is actually broken. + </p> + <p> + At taking my leave, I tendered my best services to her, and besought her + to permit me frequently to inquire after her health. + </p> + <p> + She made me no answer, but by bowing her head. + </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 XXII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, JULY 19. + </p> + <p> + This morning I took a chair to Smith's; and, being told that the lady had + a very bad night, but was up, I sent for her worthy apothecary; who, on + his coming to me, approving of my proposal of calling in Dr. H., I bid the + woman acquaint her with the designed visit. + </p> + <p> + It seems she was at first displeased; yet withdrew her objection: but, + after a pause, asked them, What she should do? She had effects of value, + some of which she intended, as soon as she could, to turn into money, but, + till then, had not a single guinea to give the doctor for his fee. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick said, she had five guineas by her; they were at her service. + </p> + <p> + She would accept of three, she said, if she would take that (pulling a + diamond ring from her finger) till she repaid her; but on no other terms. + </p> + <p> + Having been told I was below with Mr. Goddard, she desired to speak one + word with me, before she saw the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting in an elbow-chair, leaning her head on a pillow; Mrs. + Smith and the widow on each side her chair; her nurse, with a phial of + hartshorn, behind her; in her own hand her salts. + </p> + <p> + Raising her head at my entrance, she inquired if the Doctor knew Mr. + Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + I told her no; and that I believed you never saw him in your life. + </p> + <p> + Was the Doctor my friend? + </p> + <p> + He was; and a very worthy and skilful man. I named him for his eminence in + his profession: and Mr. Goddard said he knew not a better physician. + </p> + <p> + I have but one condition to make before I see the gentleman; that he + refuse not his fees from me. If I am poor, Sir, I am proud. I will not be + under obligation, you may believe, Sir, I will not. I suffer this visit, + because I would not appear ungrateful to the few friends I have left, nor + obstinate to such of my relations, as may some time hence, for their + private satisfaction, inquire after my behaviour in my sick hours. So, + Sir, you know the condition. And don't let me be vexed. 'I am very ill! + and cannot debate the matter.' + </p> + <p> + Seeing her so determined, I told her, if it must be so, it should. + </p> + <p> + Then, Sir, the gentleman may come. But I shall not be able to answer many + questions. Nurse, you can tell him at the window there what a night I have + had, and how I have been for two days past. And Mr. Goddard, if he be + here, can let him know what I have taken. Pray let me be as little + questioned as possible. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor paid his respects to her with the gentlemanly address for which + he is noted: and she cast up her sweet eyes to him with that benignity + which accompanies her every graceful look. + </p> + <p> + I would have retired: but she forbid it. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, the lily not of so beautiful a white: Indeed, Madam, you + are very low, said he: but give me leave to say, that you can do more for + yourself than all the faculty can do for you. + </p> + <p> + He then withdrew to the window. And, after a short conference with the + women, he turned to me, and to Mr. Goddard, at the other window: We can do + nothing here, (speaking low,) but by cordials and nourishment. What + friends has the lady? She seems to be a person of condition; and, ill as + she is, a very fine woman.——A single lady, I presume? + </p> + <p> + I whisperingly told him she was. That there were extraordinary + circumstances in her case; as I would have apprized him, had I met with + him yesterday: that her friends were very cruel to her; but that she could + not hear them named without reproaching herself; though they were much + more to blame than she. + </p> + <p> + I knew I was right, said the Doctor. A love-case, Mr. Goddard! a + love-case, Mr. Belford! there is one person in the world who can do her + more service than all the faculty. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goddard said he had apprehended her disorder was in her mind; and had + treated her accordingly: and then told the Doctor what he had done: which + he approving of, again taking her charming hand, said, My good young lady, + you will require very little of our assistance. You must, in a great + measure, be your own assistance. You must, in a great measure, be your own + doctress. Come, dear Madam, [forgive me the familiar tenderness; your + aspect commands love as well as reverence; and a father of children, some + of them older than yourself, may be excused for his familiar address,] + cheer up your spirits. Resolve to do all in your power to be well; and + you'll soon grow better. + </p> + <p> + You are very kind, Sir, said she. I will take whatever you direct. My + spirits have been hurried. I shall be better, I believe, before I am + worse. The care of my good friends here, looking at the women, shall not + meet with an ungrateful return. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor wrote. He would fain have declined his fee. As her malady, he + said, was rather to be relieved by the soothings of a friend, than by the + prescriptions of a physician, he should think himself greatly honoured to + be admitted rather to advise her in the one character, than to prescribe + to her in the other. + </p> + <p> + She answered, That she should be always glad to see so humane a man: that + his visits would keep her in charity with his sex: but that, where [sic] + she able to forget that he was her physician, she might be apt to abate of + the confidence in his skill, which might be necessary to effect the + amendment that was the end of his visits. + </p> + <p> + And when he urged her still further, which he did in a very polite manner, + and as passing by the door two or three times a day, she said she should + always have pleasure in considering him in the kind light he offered + himself to her: that that might be very generous in one person to offer, + which would be as ungenerous in another to accept: that indeed she was not + at present high in circumstance; and he saw by the tender, (which he must + accept of,) that she had greater respect to her own convenience than to + his merit, or than to the pleasure she should take in his visits. + </p> + <p> + We all withdrew together; and the Doctor and Mr. Goddard having a great + curiosity to know something more of her story, at the motion of the latter + we went into a neighbouring coffee-house, and I gave them, in confidence, + a brief relation of it; making all as light for you as I could; and yet + you'll suppose, that, in order to do but common justice to the lady's + character, heavy must be that light. + </p> + <p> + THREE O'CLOCK, AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + I just now called again at Smith's; and am told she is somewhat better; + which she attributed to the soothings of her Doctor. She expressed herself + highly pleased with both gentlemen; and said that their behaviour to her + was perfectly paternal.—— + </p> + <p> + Paternal, poor lady!——never having been, till very lately, + from under her parents' wings, and now abandoned by all her friends, she + is for finding out something paternal and maternal in every one, (the + latter qualities in Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith,) to supply to herself the + father and mother her dutiful heart pants after. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith told me, that, after we were gone, she gave the keys of her + trunk and drawers to her and the widow Lovick, and desired them to take an + inventory of them; which they did in her presence. + </p> + <p> + They also informed me, that she had requested them to find her a purchaser + for two rich dressed suits; one never worn, the other not above once or + twice. + </p> + <p> + This shocked me exceedingly—perhaps it may thee a little!!!—Her + reason for so doing, she told them, was, that she should never live to + wear them: that her sister, and other relations, were above wearing them: + that her mother would not endure in her sight any thing that was her's: + that she wanted the money: that she would not be obliged to any body, when + she had effects by her for which she had no occasion: and yet, said she, I + expect not that they will fetch a price answerable to their value. + </p> + <p> + They were both very much concerned, as they owned; and asked my advice + upon it: and the richness of her apparel having given them a still higher + notion of her rank than they had before, they supposed she must be of + quality; and again wanted to know her story. + </p> + <p> + I told them, that she was indeed a woman of family and fortune: I still + gave them room to suppose her married: but left it to her to tell them all + in her own time and manner: all I would say was, that she had been very + vilely treated; deserved it not; and was all innocence and purity. + </p> + <p> + You may suppose that they both expressed their astonishment, that there + could be a man in the world who could ill treat so fine a creature. + </p> + <p> + As to the disposing of the two suits of apparel, I told Mrs. Smith that + she should pretend that, upon inquiry, she had found a friend who would + purchase the richest of them; but (that she might not mistrust) would + stand upon a good bargain. And having twenty guineas about me, I left them + with her, in part of payment; and bid her pretend to get her to part with + it for as little more as she could induce her to take. + </p> + <p> + I am setting out for Edgeware with poor Belton—more of whom in my + next. I shall return to-morrow; and leave this in readiness for your + messenger, if he call in my absence. + </p> + <p> + ADIEU. <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. [IN ANSWER TO LETTER XXI. OF THIS + VOLUME.] M. HALL, WED. NIGHT, JULY 19. + </p> + <p> + You might well apprehend that I should think you were playing me booty in + communicating my letter to the lady. + </p> + <p> + You ask, Who would think you might not read to her the least exceptionable + parts of a letter written in my own defence?—I'll tell you who—the + man who, in the same letter that he asks this question, tells the friend + whom he exposes to her resentment, 'That there is such an air of levity + runs through his most serious letters, that those of this are least fit to + be seen which ought to be most to his credit:' And now what thinkest thou + of thyself-condemned folly? Be, however, I charge thee, more circumspect + for the future, that so this clumsy error may stand singly by itself. + </p> + <p> + 'It is painful to her to think of me!' 'Libertine froth!' 'So pernicious + and so despicable a plotter!' 'A man whose friendship is no credit to any + body!' 'Hardened wretch!' 'The devil's counterpart!' 'A wicked, wicked + man!'—But did she, could she, dared she, to say, or imply all this?—and + say it to a man whom she praises for humanity, and prefers to myself for + that virtue; when all the humanity he shows, and she knows it too, is by + my direction—so robs me of the credit of my own works; admirably + entitled, all this shows her, to thy refinement upon the words resentment + and revenge. But thou wert always aiming and blundering at some thing thou + never couldst make out. + </p> + <p> + The praise thou givest to her ingenuousness, is another of thy peculiars. + I think not as thou dost, of her tell-tale recapitulations and + exclamations:—what end can they answer?—only that thou hast a + holy love for her, [the devil fetch thee for thy oddity!] or it is + extremely provoking to suppose one sees such a charming creature stand + upright before a libertine, and talk of the sin against her, that cannot + be forgiven!—I wish, at my heart, that these chaste ladies would + have a little modesty in their anger!—It would sound very strange, + if I Robert Lovelace should pretend to have more true delicacy, in a point + that requires the utmost, than Miss Clarissa Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + I think I will put it into the head of her nurse Norton, and her Miss + Howe, by some one of my agents, to chide the dear novice for her + proclamations. + </p> + <p> + But to be serious: let me tell thee, that, severe as she is, and saucy, in + asking so contemptuously, 'What a man is your friend, Sir, to set himself + to punish guilty people!' I will never forgive the cursed woman, who could + commit this last horrid violence on so excellent a creature. + </p> + <p> + The barbarous insults of the two nymphs, in their visits to her; the + choice of the most execrable den that could be found out, in order, no + doubt, to induce her to go back to theirs; and the still more execrable + attempt, to propose to her a man who would pay the debt; a snare, I make + no question, laid for her despairing and resenting heart by that devilish + Sally, (thinking her, no doubt, a woman,) in order to ruin her with me; + and to provoke me, in a fury, to give her up to their remorseless cruelty; + are outrages, that, to express myself in her style, I never can, never + will forgive. + </p> + <p> + But as to thy opinion, and the two women's at Smith's, that her heart is + broken! that is the true women's language: I wonder how thou camest into + it: thou who hast seen and heard of so many female deaths and revivals. + </p> + <p> + I'll tell thee what makes against this notion of theirs. + </p> + <p> + Her time of life, and charming constitution: the good she ever delighted + to do, and fancified she was born to do; and which she may still continue + to do, to as high a degree as ever; nay, higher: since I am no sordid + varlet, thou knowest: her religious turn: a turn that will always teach + her to bear inevitable evils with patience: the contemplation upon her + last noble triumph over me, and over the whole crew; and upon her + succeeding escape from us all: her will unviolated: and the inward pride + of having not deserved the treatment she has met with. + </p> + <p> + How is it possible to imagine, that a woman, who has all these + consolations to reflect upon, will die of a broken heart? + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, I make no doubt, but that, as she recovers from the + dejection into which this last scurvy villany (which none but wretches of + her own sex could have been guilty of) has thrown her, returning love will + re-enter her time-pacified mind: her thoughts will then turn once more on + the conjugal pivot: of course she will have livelier notions in her head; + and these will make her perform all her circumvolutions with ease and + pleasure; though not with so high a degree of either, as if the dear proud + rogue could have exalted herself above the rest of her sex, as she turned + round. + </p> + <p> + Thou askest, on reciting the bitter invectives that the lady made against + thy poor friend, (standing before her, I suppose, with thy fingers in thy + mouth,) What couldst thou say FOR me? + </p> + <p> + Have I not, in my former letters, suggested an hundred things, which a + friend, in earnest to vindicate or excuse a friend, might say on such an + occasion? + </p> + <p> + But now to current topics, and the present state of matters here.—It + is true, as my servant told thee, that Miss Howe had engaged, before this + cursed woman's officiousness, to use her interest with her friend in my + behalf: and yet she told my cousins, in the visit they made her, that it + was her opinion that she would never forgive me. I send to thee enclosed + copies of all that passed on this occasion between my cousins Montague, + Miss Howe, myself, Lady Betty, Lady Sarah, and Lord M. + </p> + <p> + I long to know what Miss Howe wrote to her friend, in order to induce her + to marry the despicable plotter; the man whose friendship is no credit to + any body; the wicked, wicked man. Thou hadst the two letters in thy hand. + Had they been in mine, the seal would have yielded to the touch of my warm + finger, (perhaps without the help of the post-office bullet;) and the + folds, as other placations have done, opened of themselves to oblige my + curiosity. A wicked omission, Jack, not to contrive to send them down to + me by man and horse! It might have passed, that the messenger who brought + the second letter, took them both back. I could have returned them by + another, when copied, as from Miss Howe, and nobody but myself and thee + the wiser. + </p> + <p> + That's a charming girl! her spirit, her delightful spirit!—not to be + married to it—how I wish to get that lively bird into my cage! how + would I make her flutter and fly about!—till she left a feather upon + every wire! + </p> + <p> + Had I begun there, I am confident, as I have heretofore said,* that I + should not have had half the difficulty with her as I have had with her + charming friend. For these passionate girls have high pulses, and a clever + fellow may make what sport he pleases with their unevenness—now too + high, now too low, you need only to provoke and appease them by turns; to + bear with them, and to forbear to tease and ask pardon; and sometimes to + give yourself the merit of a sufferer from them; then catching them in the + moment of concession, conscious of their ill usage of you, they are all + your own. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. VI. Letter VII. + </p> + <p> + But these sedate, contemplative girls, never out of temper but with + reason; when that reason is given them, hardly ever pardon, or afford you + another opportunity to offend. + </p> + <p> + It was in part the apprehension that this would be so with my dear Miss + Harlowe, that made me carry her to a place where I believed she would be + unable to escape me, although I were not to succeed in my first attempts. + Else widow Sorlings's would have been as well for me as widow Sinclair's. + For early I saw that there was no credulity in her to graft upon: no + pretending to whine myself into her confidence. She was proof against + amorous persuasion. She had reason in her love. Her penetration and good + sense made her hate all compliments that had not truth and nature in them. + What could I have done with her in any other place? and yet how long, even + there, was I kept in awe, in spite of natural incitement, and unnatural + instigations, (as I now think them,) by the mere force of that native + dignity, and obvious purity of mind and manners, which fill every one with + reverence, if not with holy love, as thou callest it,* the moment he sees + her!—Else, thinkest thou not, it was easy for me to be a fine + gentleman, and a delicate lover, or, at least a specious and flattering + one? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah and Lady Betty, finding the treaty, upon the success of which + they have set their foolish hearts, likely to run into length, are about + departing to their own seats; having taken from me the best security the + nature of the case will admit of, that is to say, my word, to marry the + lady, if she will have me. + </p> + <p> + And after all, (methinks thou asked,) art thou still resolved to repair, + if reparation be put into thy power? + </p> + <p> + Why, Jack, I must needs own that my heart has now-and-then some retrograde + motions upon thinking seriously of the irrevocable ceremony. We do not + easily give up the desire of our hearts, and what we imagine essential to + our happiness, let the expectation or hope of compassing it be ever so + unreasonable or absurd in the opinion of others. Recurrings there will be; + hankerings that will, on every but-remotely-favourable incident, (however + before discouraged and beaten back by ill success,) pop up, and abate the + satisfaction we should otherwise take in contrariant overtures. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis ungentlemanly, Jack, man to man, to lie.——But matrimony I + do not heartily love—although with a CLARISSA—yet I am in + earnest to marry her. + </p> + <p> + But I am often thinking that if now this dear creature, suffering time, + and my penitence, my relations' prayers, and Miss Howe's mediation to + soften her resentments, (her revenge thou hast prettily* distinguished + away,) and to recall repulsed inclination, should consent to meet me at + the altar—How vain will she then make all thy eloquent periods of + execration!—How many charming interjections of her own will she + spoil! And what a couple of old patriarchs shall we become, going in the + mill-horse round; getting sons and daughters; providing nurses for them + first, governors and governesses next; teaching them lessons their fathers + never practised, nor which their mother, as her parents will say, was much + the better for! And at last, perhaps, when life shall be turned into the + dully sober stillness, and I become desirous to forget all my past + rogueries, what comfortable reflections will it afford to find them all + revived, with equal, or probably greater trouble and expense, in the + persons and manners of so many young Lovelaces of the boys; and to have + the girls run away with varlets, perhaps not half so ingenious as myself; + clumsy fellows, as it might happen, who could not afford the baggages one + excuse for their weakness, besides those disgraceful ones of sex and + nature!—O Belford! who can bear to think of these things!——Who, + at my time of life especially, and with such a bias for mischief! + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XVIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Of this I am absolutely convinced, that if a man ever intends to marry, + and to enjoy in peace his own reflections, and not be afraid retribution, + or of the consequences of his own example, he should never be a rake. + </p> + <p> + This looks like conscience; don't it, Belford? + </p> + <p> + But, being in earnest still, as I have said, all I have to do in my + present uncertainty, is, to brighten up my faculties, by filing off the + rust they have contracted by the town smoke, a long imprisonment in my + close attendance to so little purpose on my fair perverse; and to brace + up, if I can, the relaxed fibres of my mind, which have been twitched and + convulsed like the nerves of some tottering paralytic, by means of the + tumults she has excited in it; that so I may be able to present to her a + husband as worthy as I can be of her acceptance; or, if she reject me, be + in a capacity to resume my usual gaiety of heart, and show others of the + misleading sex, that I am not discouraged, by the difficulties I have met + with from this sweet individual of it, from endeavouring to make myself as + acceptable to them as before. + </p> + <p> + In this latter case, one tour to France and Italy, I dare say, will do the + business. Miss Harlowe will by that time have forgotten all she has + suffered from her ungrateful Lovelace: though it will be impossible that + her Lovelace should ever forget a woman, whose equal he despairs to meet + with, were he to travel from one end of the world to the other. + </p> + <p> + If thou continuest paying off the heavy debts my long letters, for so many + weeks together, have made thee groan under, I will endeavour to restrain + myself in the desires I have, (importunate as they are,) of going to town, + to throw myself at the feet of my soul's beloved. Policy and honesty, both + join to strengthen the restraint my own promise and thy engagement have + laid me under on this head. I would not afresh provoke: on the contrary, + would give time for her resentments to subside, that so all that follows + may be her own act and deed. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Hickman, [I have a mortal aversion to that fellow!] has, by a line which I + have just now received, requested an interview with me on Friday at Mr. + Dormer's, as at a common friend's. Does the business he wants to meet me + upon require that it should be at a common friend's?—A challenge + implied: Is it not, Belford?—I shall not be civil to him, I doubt. + He has been an intermeddler?—Then I envy him on Miss Howe's account: + for if I have a right notion of this Hickman, it is impossible that that + virago can ever love him. + </p> + <p> + Every one knows that the mother, (saucy as the daughter sometimes is,) + crams him down her throat. Her mother is one of the most violent-spirited + women in England. Her late husband could not stand in the matrimonial + contention of Who should? but tipt off the perch in it, neither knowing + how to yield, nor knowing how to conquer. + </p> + <p> + A charming encouragement for a man of intrigue, when he has reason to + believe that the woman he has a view upon has no love for her husband! + What good principles must that wife have, who is kept in against + temptation by a sense of her duty, and plighted faith, where affection has + no hold of her! + </p> + <p> + Pr'ythee let's know, very particularly, how it fares with poor Belton. + 'Tis an honest fellow. Something more than his Thomasine seems to stick + with him. + </p> + <p> + Thou hast not been preaching to him conscience and reformation, hast thou?—Thou + shouldest not take liberties with him of this sort, unless thou thoughtest + him absolutely irrecoverable. A man in ill health, and crop-sick, cannot + play with these solemn things as thou canst, and be neither better nor + worse for them.—Repentance, Jack, I have a notion, should be set + about while a man is in health and spirits. What's a man fit for, [not to + begin a new work, surely!] when he is not himself, nor master of his + faculties?—Hence, as I apprehend, it is that a death-bed repentance + is supposed to be such a precarious and ineffectual thing. + </p> + <p> + As to myself, I hope I have a great deal of time before me; since I intend + one day to be a reformed man. I have very serious reflections + now-and-then. Yet am I half afraid of the truth of what my charmer once + told me, that a man cannot repent when he will.—Not to hold it, I + suppose she meant! By fits and starts I have repented a thousand times. + </p> + <p> + Casting my eye over the two preceding paragraphs, I fancy there is + something like contradiction in them. But I will not reconsider them. The + subject is a very serious one. I don't at present quite understand it. But + now for one more airy. + </p> + <p> + Tourville, Mowbray, and myself, pass away our time as pleasantly as + possibly we can without thee. I wish we don't add to Lord M.'s gouty days + by the joy we give him. + </p> + <p> + This is one advantage, as I believe I have elsewhere observed, that we + male-delinquents in love-matters have of the other sex:—for while + they, poor things! sit sighing in holes and corners, or run to woods and + groves to bemoan themselves on their baffled hopes, we can rant and roar, + hunt and hawk; and, by new loves, banish from our hearts all remembrance + of the old ones. + </p> + <p> + Merrily, however, as we pass our time, my reflections upon the injuries + done to this noble creature bring a qualm upon my heart very often. But I + know she will permit me to make her amends, after she has plagued me + heartily; and that's my consolation. + </p> + <p> + An honest fellow still—clap thy wings, and crow, Jack!—— + </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 XXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY MORN. JUNE* 20. + </p> + <p> + * Text error: should be JULY. + </p> + <p> + What, my dearest creature, have been your sufferings!—What must have + been your anguish on so disgraceful an insult, committed in the open + streets, and in the broad day! + </p> + <p> + No end, I think, of the undeserved calamities of a dear soul, who had been + so unhappily driven and betrayed into the hands of a vile libertine! + —How was I shocked at the receiving of your letter written by + another hand, and only dictated by you!—You must be very ill. Nor is + it to be wondered at. But I hope it is rather from hurry, and surprise, + and lowness, which may be overcome, than from a grief given way to, which + may be attended with effects I cannot bear to think of. + </p> + <p> + But whatever you do, my dear, you must not despond! Indeed you must not + despond! Hitherto you have been in no fault: but despair would be all your + own: and the worst fault you can be guilty of. + </p> + <p> + I cannot bear to look upon another hand instead of your's. My dear + creature, send me a few lines, though ever so few, in your own hand, if + possible.—For they will revive my heart; especially if they can + acquaint me of your amended health. + </p> + <p> + I expect your answer to my letter of the 13th. We all expect it with + impatience. + </p> + <p> + His relations are persons of so much honour—they are so very earnest + to rank you among them—the wretch is so very penitent: every one of + his family says he is—your own are so implacable—your last + distress, though the consequence of his former villany, yet neither + brought on by his direction nor with his knowledge; and so much resented + by him—that my mother is absolutely of opinion that you should be + his—especially if, yielding to my wishes, as expressed in my letter, + and those of all his friends, you would have complied, had it not been for + this horrid arrest. + </p> + <p> + I will enclose the copy of the letter I wrote to Miss Montague last + Tuesday, on hearing that nobody knew what was become of you; and the + answer to it, underwritten and signed by Lord M., Lady Sarah Sadleir, and + Lady Betty Lawrance, as well as by the young Ladies; and also by the + wretch himself. + </p> + <p> + I own, that I like not the turn of what he has written to me; and, before + I will further interest myself in his favour, I have determined to inform + myself, by a friend, from his own mouth, of his sincerity, and whether his + whole inclination be, in his request to me, exclusive of the wishes of his + relations. Yet my heart rises against him, on the supposition that there + is the shadow of a reason for such a question, the woman Miss Clarissa + Harlowe. But I think, with my mother, that marriage is now the only means + left to make your future life tolerably easy—happy there is no + saying.—His disgraces, in that case, in the eye of the world itself, + will be more than your's: and, to those who know you, glorious will be + your triumph. + </p> + <p> + I am obliged to accompany my mother soon to the Isle of Wight. My aunt + Harman is in a declining way, and insists upon seeing us both—and + Mr. Hickman too, I think. + </p> + <p> + His sister, of whom we had heard so much, with her lord, were brought + t'other day to visit us. She strangely likes me, or says she does. + </p> + <p> + I can't say but that I think she answers the excellent character we heard + of her. + </p> + <p> + It would be death to me to set out for the little island, and not see you + first: and yet my mother (fond of exerting an authority that she herself, + by that exertion, often brings into question) insists, that my next visit + to you must be a congratulatory one as Mrs. Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + When I know what will be the result of the questions to be put in my name + to that wretch, and what is your mind on my letter of the 13th, I shall + tell you more of mine. + </p> + <p> + The bearer promises to make so much dispatch as to attend you this very + afternoon. May he return with good tidings to + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY AFTERNOON. + </p> + <p> + You pain me, Miss Howe, by the ardour of your noble friendship. I will be + brief, because I am not well; yet a good deal better than I was; and + because I am preparing an answer to your's of the 13th. But, before hand, + I must tell you, my dear, I will not have that man—don't be angry + with me. But indeed I won't. So let him be asked no questions about me, I + beseech you. + </p> + <p> + I do not despond, my dear. I hope I may say, I will not despond. Is not my + condition greatly mended? I thank Heaven it is! + </p> + <p> + I am no prisoner now in a vile house. I am not now in the power of that + man's devices. I am not now obliged to hide myself in corners for fear of + him. One of his intimate companions is become my warm friend, and engages + to keep him from me, and that by his own consent. I am among honest + people. I have all my clothes and effects restored to me. The wretch + himself bears testimony to my honour. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I am very weak and ill: but I have an excellent physician, Dr. H. + and as worthy an apothecary, Mr. Goddard.—Their treatment of me, my + dear, is perfectly paternal!—My mind too, I can find, begins to + strengthen: and methinks, at times, I find myself superior to my + calamities. + </p> + <p> + I shall have sinkings sometimes. I must expect such. And my father's + maledict——But you will chide me for introducing that, now I am + enumerating my comforts. + </p> + <p> + But I charge you, my dear, that you do not suffer my calamities to sit too + heavily upon your own mind. If you do, that will be to new-point some of + those arrows that have been blunted and lost their sharpness. + </p> + <p> + If you would contribute to my happiness, give way, my dear, to your own; + and to the cheerful prospects before you! + </p> + <p> + You will think very meanly of your Clarissa, if you do not believe, that + the greatest pleasure she can receive in this life is in your prosperity + and welfare. Think not of me, my only friend, but as we were in times + past: and suppose me gone a great, great way off!—A long journey!——How + often are the dearest of friends, at their country's call, thus parted— + with a certainty for years—with a probability for ever. + </p> + <p> + Love me still, however. But let it be with a weaning love. I am not what I + was, when we were inseparable lovers, as I may say.—Our views must + now be different—Resolve, my dear, to make a worthy man happy, + because a worthy man make you so.—And so, my dearest love, for the + present adieu! —adieu, my dearest love!—but I shall soon write + again, I hope! + </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 XXVI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. [IN ANSWER TO LETTER XXIII. OF THIS + VOLUME.] THURDAY, JULY 20. + </p> + <p> + I read that part of your conclusion to poor Belton, where you inquire + after him, and mention how merrily you and the rest pass your time at M. + Hall. He fetched a deep sigh: You are all very happy! were his words. + —I am sorry they were his words; for, poor fellow, he is going very + fast. Change of air, he hopes, will mend him, joined to the cheerful + company I have left him in. But nothing, I dare say, will. + </p> + <p> + A consuming malady, and a consuming mistress, to an indulgent keeper, are + dreadful things to struggle with both together: violence must be used to + get rid of the latter; and yet he has not spirit enough left him to exert + himself. His house is Thomasine's house; not his. He has not been within + his doors for a fortnight past. Vagabonding about from inn to inn; + entering each for a bait only; and staying two or three days without power + to remove; and hardly knowing which to go to next. His malady is within + him; and he cannot run away from it. + </p> + <p> + Her boys (once he thought them his) are sturdy enough to shoulder him in + his own house as they pass by him. Siding with the mother, they in a + manner expel him; and, in his absence, riot away on the remnant of his + broken fortunes. As to their mother, (who was once so tender, so + submissive, so studious to oblige, that we all pronounced him happy, and + his course of life the eligible,) she is now so termagant, so insolent, + that he cannot contend with her, without doing infinite prejudice to his + health. A broken-spirited defensive, hardly a defensive, therefore, + reduced to: and this to a heart, for so many years waging offensive war, + (not valuing whom the opponent,) what a reduction! now comparing himself + to the superannuated lion in the fable, kicked in the jaws, and laid + sprawling, by the spurning heel of an ignoble ass! + </p> + <p> + I have undertaken his cause. He has given me leave, yet not without + reluctance, to put him into possession of his own house; and to place in + it for him his unhappy sister, whom he has hitherto slighted, because + unhappy. It is hard, he told me, (and wept, poor fellow, when he said it,) + that he cannot be permitted to die quietly in his own house!—The + fruits of blessed keeping these!—— + </p> + <p> + Though but lately apprized of her infidelity, it now comes out to have + been of so long continuance, that he has no room to believe the boys to be + his: yet how fond did he use to be of them! + </p> + <p> + To what, Lovelace, shall we attribute the tenderness which a reputed + father frequently shows to the children of another man?—What is + that, I pray thee, which we call nature, and natural affection? And what + has man to boast of as to sagacity and penetration, when he is as easily + brought to cover and rear, and even to love, and often to prefer, the + product of another's guilt with his wife or mistress, as a hen or a goose + the eggs, and even young, of others of their kind? + </p> + <p> + Nay, let me ask, if instinct, as it is called, in the animal creation, + does not enable them to distinguish their own, much more easily than we, + with our boasted reason and sagacity, in this nice particular, can do? + </p> + <p> + If some men, who have wives but of doubtful virtue, considered this matter + duly, I believe their inordinate ardour after gain would be a good deal + cooled, when they could not be certain (though their mates could) for + whose children they were elbowing, bustling, griping, and perhaps + cheating, those with whom they have concerns, whether friends, neighbours, + or more certain next-of-kin, by the mother's side however. + </p> + <p> + But I will not push this notion so far as it might be carried; because, if + propagated, it might be of unsocial or unnatural consequence; since women + of virtue would perhaps be more liable to suffer by the mistrusts and + caprices or bad-hearted and foolish-headed husbands, than those who can + screen themselves from detection by arts and hypocrisy, to which a woman + of virtue cannot have recourse. And yet, were this notion duly and + generally considered, it might be attended with no bad effects; as good + education, good inclinations, and established virtue, would be the + principally-sought-after qualities; and not money, when a man (not biased + by mere personal attractions) was looking round him for a partner in his + fortunes, and for a mother of his future children, which are to be the + heirs of his possessions, and to enjoy the fruits of his industry. + </p> + <p> + But to return to poor Belton. + </p> + <p> + If I have occasion for your assistance, and that of our compeers, in + re-instating the poor fellow, I will give you notice. Mean time, I have + just now been told that Thomasine declares she will not stir; for, it + seems, she suspects that measures will be fallen upon to make her quit. + She is Mrs. Belton, she says, and will prove her marriage. + </p> + <p> + If she would give herself these airs in his life-time, what would she + attempt to do after his death? + </p> + <p> + Her boy threatens any body who shall presume to insult their mother. Their + father (as they call poor Belton) they speak of as an unnatural one. And + their probably true father is for ever there, hostilely there, passing for + her cousin, as usual: now her protecting cousin. + </p> + <p> + Hardly ever, I dare say, was there a keeper that did not make keeperess; + who lavished away on her kept-fellow what she obtained from the + extravagant folly of him who kept her. + </p> + <p> + I will do without you, if I can. The case will be only, as I conceive, + that like of the ancient Sarmatians, their wives then in possession of + their slaves. So that they had to contend not only with those wives, + conscious of their infidelity, and with their slaves, but with the + children of those slaves, grown up to manhood, resolute to defend their + mothers and their long-manumitted fathers. But the noble Sarmatians, + scorning to attack their slaves with equal weapons, only provided + themselves with the same sort of whips with which they used formerly to + chastise them. And attacking them with them, the miscreants fled before + them.—In memory of which, to this day, the device on the coin in + Novogrod, in Russia, a city of the antient Sarmatia, is a man on + horseback, with a whip in his hand. + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow takes it ill, that you did not press him more than you did + to be of your party at M. Hall. It is owing to Mowbray, he is sure, that + he had so very slight an invitation from one whose invitations used to be + so warm. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray's speech to him, he says, he never will forgive: 'Why, Tom,' said + the brutal fellow, with a curse, 'thou droopest like a pip or + roup-cloaking chicken. Thou shouldst grow perter, or submit to a solitary + quarantine, if thou wouldst not infect the whole brood.' + </p> + <p> + For my own part, only that this poor fellow is in distress, as well in his + affairs as in his mind, or I should be sick of you all. Such is the relish + I have of the conversation, and such my admiration of the deportment and + sentiments of this divine lady, that I would forego a month, even of thy + company, to be admitted into her's but for one hour: and I am highly in + conceit with myself, greatly as I used to value thine, for being able, + spontaneously as I may say, to make this preference. + </p> + <p> + It is, after all, a devilish life we have lived. And to consider how it + all ends in a very few years—to see to what a state of ill health + this poor fellow is so soon reduced—and then to observe how every + one of ye run away from the unhappy being, as rats from a falling house, + is fine comfort to help a man to look back upon companions ill-chosen, and + a life mis-spent! + </p> + <p> + It will be your turns by-and-by, every man of ye, if the justice of your + country interpose not. + </p> + <p> + Thou art the only rake we have herded with, if thou wilt not except + thyself, who hast preserved entire thy health and thy fortunes. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray indeed is indebted to a robust constitution that he has not yet + suffered in his health; but his estate is dwindled away year by year. + </p> + <p> + Three-fourths of Tourville's very considerable fortunes are already + dissipated; and the remaining fourth will probably soon go after the other + three. + </p> + <p> + Poor Belton! we see how it is with him!—His own felicity is, that he + will hardly live to want. + </p> + <p> + Thou art too proud, and too prudent, ever to be destitute; and, to do thee + justice, hath a spirit to assist such of thy friends as may be reduced; + and wilt, if thou shouldest then be living. But I think thou must, much + sooner than thou imaginest, be called to thy account—knocked on the + head perhaps by the friends of those whom thou hast injured; for if thou + escapest this fate from the Harlowe family, thou wilt go on tempting + danger and vengeance, till thou meetest with vengeance; and this, whether + thou marriest, or not: for the nuptial life will not, I doubt, till age + join with it, cure thee of that spirit for intrigue which is continually + running away with thee, in spite of thy better sense, and transitory + resolutions. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, I will suppose thee laid down quietly among thy worthier + ancestors. + </p> + <p> + And now let me look forward to the ends of Tourville and Mowbray, [Belton + will be crumbled into dust before thee, perhaps,] supposing thy early exit + has saved thee from gallows intervention. + </p> + <p> + Reduced, probably, by riotous waste to consequential want, behold them + refuged in some obscene hole or garret; obliged to the careless care of + some dirty old woman, whom nothing but her poverty prevails upon to attend + to perform the last offices for men, who have made such shocking ravage + among the young ones. + </p> + <p> + Then how miserably will they whine through squeaking organs; their big + voices turned into puling pity-begging lamentations! their now-offensive + paws, how helpless then!—their now-erect necks then denying support + to their aching heads; those globes of mischief dropping upon their + quaking shoulders. Then what wry faces will they make! their hearts, and + their heads, reproaching each other!—distended their parched mouths!—sunk + their unmuscled cheeks!—dropt their under jaws!—each grunting + like the swine he had resembled in his life! Oh! what a vile wretch have I + been! Oh! that I had my life to come over again!—Confessing to the + poor old woman, who cannot shrive them! Imaginary ghosts of deflowered + virgins, and polluted matrons, flitting before their glassy eyes! And old + Satan, to their apprehensions, grinning behind a looking-glass held up + before them, to frighten them with the horror visible in their own + countenances! + </p> + <p> + For my own part, if I can get some good family to credit me with a sister + or daughter, as I have now an increased fortune, which will enable me to + propose handsome settlements, I will desert ye all; marry, and live a life + of reason, rather than a life of a brute, for the time to come. + </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 XXVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY NIGHT. + </p> + <p> + I was forced to take back my twenty guineas. How the women managed it I + can't tell, (I suppose they too readily found a purchaser for the rich + suit;) but she mistrusted, that I was the advancer of the money; and would + not let the clothes go. But Mrs. Lovick has actually sold, for fifteen + guineas, some rich lace worth three times the sum; out of which she repaid + her the money she borrowed for fees to the doctor, in an illness + occasioned by the barbarity of the most savage of men. Thou knowest his + name! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor called on her in the morning it seems, and had a short debate + with her about fees. She insisted that he should take one every time he + came, write or not write; mistrusting that he only gave verbal directions + to Mrs. Lovick, or the nurse, to avoid taking any. + </p> + <p> + He said that it would be impossible for him, had he not been a physician, + to forbear inquiries after the health and welfare of so excellent a + person. He had not the thought of paying her a compliment in declining the + offered fee: but he knew her case could not so suddenly vary as to demand + his daily visits. She must permit him, therefore, to inquire of the women + below after her health; and he must not think of coming up, if he were to + be pecuniarily rewarded for the satisfaction he was so desirous to give + himself. + </p> + <p> + It ended in a compromise for a fee each other time; which she unwillingly + submitted to; telling him, that though she was at present desolate and in + disgrace, yet her circumstances were, of right, high; and no expenses + could rise so as to be scrupled, whether she lived or died. But she + submitted, she added, to the compromise, in hopes to see him as often as + he had opportunity; for she really looked upon him, and Mr. Goddard, from + their kind and tender treatment of her, with a regard next to filial. + </p> + <p> + I hope thou wilt make thyself acquainted with this worthy Doctor when thou + comest to town; and give him thy thanks, for putting her into conceit with + the sex that thou hast given her so much reason to execrate. + </p> + <p> + Farewell. + </p> + <p> + LETTER XXVIII + </p> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. M. HALL, FRIDAY, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + Just returned from an interview with this Hickman: a precise fop of a + fellow, as starched as his ruffles. + </p> + <p> + Thou knowest I love him not, Jack; and whom we love not we cannot allow a + merit to! perhaps not the merit they should be granted. However, I am in + earnest, when I say, that he seems to me to be so set, so prim, so + affected, so mincing, yet so clouterly in his person, that I dare engage + for thy opinion, if thou dost justice to him, and to thyself, that thou + never beheldest such another, except in a pier-glass. + </p> + <p> + I'll tell thee how I play'd him off. + </p> + <p> + He came in his own chariot to Dormer's; and we took a turn in the garden, + at his request. He was devilish ceremonious, and made a bushel of + apologies for the freedom he was going to take: and, after half a hundred + hums and haws, told me, that he came—that he came—to wait on + me—at the request of dear Miss Howe, on the account—on the + account—of Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, speak on, said I: but give me leave to say, that if your book + be as long as your preface, it will take up a week to read it. + </p> + <p> + This was pretty rough, thou'lt say: but there's nothing like balking these + formalities at first. When they are put out of their road, they are filled + with doubts of themselves, and can never get into it again: so that an + honest fellow, impertinently attacked, as I was, has all the game in his + own hand quite through the conference. + </p> + <p> + He stroked his chin, and hardly knew what to say. At last, after + parenthesis within parenthesis, apologizing for apologies, in imitation, I + suppose, of Swift's digression in praise of digressions—I presume—I + presume, Sir, you were privy to the visit made to Miss Howe by the young + Ladies your cousins, in the name of Lord M., and Lady Sarah Sadleir, and + Lady Betty Lawrance. + </p> + <p> + I was, Sir: and Miss Howe had a letter afterwards, signed by his Lordship + and by those Ladies, and underwritten by myself. Have you seen it, Sir? + </p> + <p> + I can't say but I have. It is the principal cause of this visit: for Miss + Howe thinks your part of it is written with such an air of levity— + pardon me, Sir—that she knows not whether you are in earnest or not, + in your address to her for her interest to her friend.* + </p> + <p> + * See Mr. Lovelace's billet to Miss Howe, Letter XIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Will Miss Howe permit me to explain myself in person to her, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + O Sir, by no means. Miss Howe, I am sure, would not give you that trouble. + </p> + <p> + I should not think it a trouble. I will most readily attend you, Sir, to + Miss Howe, and satisfy her in all her scruples. Come, Sir, I will wait + upon you now. You have a chariot. Are alone. We can talk as we ride. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, wriggled, winced, stroked his ruffles, set his wig, and + pulled his neckcloth, which was long enough for a bib.—I am not + going directly back to Miss Howe, Sir. It will be as well if you will be + so good as to satisfy Miss Howe by me. + </p> + <p> + What is it she scruples, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, Miss Howe observes, that in your part of the letter, you say— + but let me see, Sir—I have a copy of what you wrote, [pulling it + out,] will you give me leave, Sir?—Thus you begin—Dear Miss + Howe— + </p> + <p> + No offence, I hope, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + None in the least, Sir!—None at all, Sir!—Taking aim, as it + were, to read. + </p> + <p> + Do you use spectacles, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + Spectacles, Sir! His whole broad face lifted up at me: Spectacles!—What + makes you ask me such a question? such a young man as I use spectacles, + Sir!— + </p> + <p> + They do in Spain, Mr. Hickman: young as well as old, to save their eyes. + —Have you ever read Prior's Alma, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + I have, Sir—custom is every thing in nations, as well as with + individuals: I know the meaning of your question—but 'tis not the + English custom.— + </p> + <p> + Was you ever in Spain, Mr. Hickman? + </p> + <p> + No, Sir: I have been in Holland. + </p> + <p> + In Holland, Sir?—Never to France or Italy?—I was resolved to + travel with him into the land of puzzledom. + </p> + <p> + No, Sir, I cannot say I have, as yet. + </p> + <p> + That's a wonder, Sir, when on the continent! + </p> + <p> + I went on a particular affair: I was obliged to return soon. + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir; you was going to read—pray be pleased to proceed. + </p> + <p> + Again he took aim, as if his eyes were older than the rest of him; and + read, After what is written above, and signed by names and characters of + such unquestionable honour—to be sure, (taking off his eye,) nobody + questions the honour of Lord M. nor that of the good Ladies who signed the + letter. + </p> + <p> + I hope, Mr. Hickman, nobody questions mine neither? + </p> + <p> + If you please, Sir, I will read on.—I might have been excused + signing a name, almost as hateful to myself [you are pleased to say]—as + I KNOW it is to YOU— + </p> + <p> + Well, Mr. Hickman, I must interrupt you at this place. In what I wrote to + Miss Howe, I distinguished the word KNOW. I had a reason for it. Miss Howe + has been very free with my character. I have never done her any harm. I + take it very ill of her. And I hope, Sir, you come in her name to make + excuses for it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howe, Sir, is a very polite young lady. She is not accustomed to + treat any man's character unbecomingly. + </p> + <p> + Then I have the more reason to take it amiss, Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, you know the friendship— + </p> + <p> + No friendship should warrant such freedoms as Miss Howe has taken with my + character. + </p> + <p> + (I believed he began to wish he had not come near me. He seemed quite + disconcerted.) + </p> + <p> + Have you not heard Miss Howe treat my name with great— + </p> + <p> + Sir, I come not to offend or affront you: but you know what a love there + is between Miss Howe and Miss Harlowe.—I doubt, Sir, you have not + treated Miss Harlowe as so fine a young lady deserved to be treated. And + if love for her friend has made Miss Howe take freedoms, as you call them, + a mind not ungenerous, on such an occasion, will rather be sorry for + having given the cause, than— + </p> + <p> + I know your consequence, Sir!—but I'd rather have this reproof from + a lady than from a gentleman. I have a great desire to wait upon Miss + Howe. I am persuaded we should soon come to a good understanding. Generous + minds are always of kin. I know we should agree in every thing. Pray, Mr. + Hickman, be so kind as to introduce me to Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Sir—I can signify your desire, if you please, to Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Do so. Be pleased to read on, Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + He did very formally, as if I remembered not what I had written; and when + he came to the passage about the halter, the parson, and the hangman, + reading it, Why, Sir, says he, does not this look like a jest?—Miss + Howe thinks it does. It is not in the lady's power, you know, Sir, to doom + you to the gallows. + </p> + <p> + Then, if it were, Mr. Hickman, you think she would? + </p> + <p> + You say here to Miss Howe, proceeded he, that Miss Harlowe is the most + injured of her sex. I know, from Miss Howe, that she highly resents the + injuries you own: insomuch that Miss Howe doubts that she shall never + prevail upon her to overlook them: and as your family are all desirous you + should repair her wrongs, and likewise desire Miss Howe's interposition + with her friend; Miss Howe fears, from this part of your letter, that you + are too much in jest; and that your offer to do her justice is rather in + compliment to your friends' entreaties, than proceeding form your own + inclinations: and she desires to know your true sentiments on this + occasion, before she interposes further. + </p> + <p> + Do you think, Mr. Hickman, that, if I am capable of deceiving my own + relations, I have so much obligation to Miss Howe, who has always treated + me with great freedom, as to acknowledge to her what I don't to them? + </p> + <p> + Sir, I beg pardon: but Miss Howe thinks that, as you have written to her, + she may ask you, by me, for an explanation of what you have written. + </p> + <p> + You see, Mr. Hickman, something of me.—Do you think I am in jest, or + in earnest? + </p> + <p> + I see, Sir, you are a gay gentleman, of fine spirits, and all that. All I + beg in Miss Howe's name is, to know if you really and bonâ fide join with + your friends in desiring her to use her interest to reconcile you to Miss + Harlowe? + </p> + <p> + I should be extremely glad to be reconciled to Miss Harlowe; and should + owe great obligations to Miss Howe, if she could bring about so happy an + event. + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, and you have no objections to marriage, I presume, as the + condition of that reconciliation? + </p> + <p> + I never liked matrimony in my life. I must be plain with you, Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry for it: I think it a very happy state. + </p> + <p> + I hope you will find it so, Mr. Hickman. + </p> + <p> + I doubt not but I shall, Sir. And I dare say, so would you, if you were to + have Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + If I could be happy in it with any body, it would be with Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + I am surprised, Sir!——Then, after all, you don't think of + marrying Miss Harlowe!——After the hard usage—— + </p> + <p> + What hard usage, Mr. Hickman? I don't doubt but a lady of her niceness has + represented what would appear trifles to any other, in a very strong + light. + </p> + <p> + If what I have had hinted to me, Sir—excuse me—had been + offered to the lady, she has more than trifles to complain of. + </p> + <p> + Let me know what you have heard, Mr. Hickman? I will very truly answer to + the accusations. + </p> + <p> + Sir, you know best what you have done: you own the lady is the most + injured, as well as the most deserving of her sex. + </p> + <p> + I do, Sir; and yet I would be glad to know what you have heard: for on + that, perhaps, depends my answer to the questions Miss Howe puts to me by + you. + </p> + <p> + Why then, Sir, since you ask it, you cannot be displeased if I answer you:—in + the first place, Sir, you will acknowledge, I suppose, that you promised + Miss Harlowe marriage, and all that? + </p> + <p> + Well, Sir, and I suppose what you have to charge me with is, that I was + desirous to have all that, without marriage? + </p> + <p> + Cot-so, Sir, I know you are deemed to be a man of wit: but may I not ask + if these things sit not too light upon you? + </p> + <p> + When a thing is done, and cannot be helped, 'tis right to make the best of + it. I wish the lady would think so too. + </p> + <p> + I think, Sir, ladies should not be deceived. I think a promise to a lady + should be as binding as to any other person, at the least. + </p> + <p> + I believe you think so, Mr. Hickman: and I believe you are a very honest, + good sort of a man. + </p> + <p> + I would always keep my word, Sir, whether to man or woman. + </p> + <p> + You say well. And far be it from me to persuade you to do otherwise. But + what have you farther heard? + </p> + <p> + (Thou wilt think, Jack, I must be very desirous to know in what light my + elected spouse had represented things to Miss Howe; and how far Miss Howe + had communicated them to Mr. Hickman.) + </p> + <p> + Sir, this is no part of my present business. + </p> + <p> + But, Mr. Hickman, 'tis part of mine. I hope you would not expect that I + should answer your questions, at the same time that you refused to answer + mine. What, pray, have you farther heard? + </p> + <p> + Why then, Sir, if I must say, I am told, that Miss Harlowe was carried to + a very bad house. + </p> + <p> + Why, indeed, the people did not prove so good as they should be.—What + farther have you heard? + </p> + <p> + I have heard, Sir, that the lady had strange advantages taken of her, very + unfair ones: but what I cannot say. + </p> + <p> + And cannot you say? Cannot you guess?—Then I'll tell you, Sir. + Perhaps some liberty was taken with her when she was asleep. Do you think + no lady ever was taken at such an advantage?—You know, Mr. Hickman, + that ladies are very shy of trusting themselves with the modestest of our + sex, when they are disposed to sleep; and why so, if they did not expect + that advantages would be taken of them at such times? + </p> + <p> + But, Sir, had not the lady something given her to make her sleep? + </p> + <p> + Ay, Mr. Hickman, that's the question: I want to know if the lady says she + had? + </p> + <p> + I have not seen all she has written; but, by what I have heard, it is a + very black affair—Excuse me, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I do excuse you, Mr. Hickman: but, supposing it were so, do you think a + lady was never imposed upon by wine, or so?—Do you not think the + most cautious woman in the world might not be cheated by a stronger liquor + for a smaller, when she was thirsty, after a fatigue in this very warm + weather? And do you think, if she was thus thrown into a profound sleep, + that she is the only lady that was ever taken at such an advantage? + </p> + <p> + Even as you make it, Mr. Lovelace, this matter is not a light one. But I + fear it is a great deal heavier than as you put it. + </p> + <p> + What reasons have you to fear this, Sir? What has the lady said? Pray let + me know. I have reason to be so earnest. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, Miss Howe herself knows not the whole. The lady promises to give + her all the particulars at a proper time, if she lives; but has said + enough to make it out to be a very bad affair. + </p> + <p> + I am glad Miss Harlowe has not yet given all the particulars. And, since + she has not, you may tell Miss Howe from me, that neither she, nor any + woman in the world can be more virtuous than Miss Harlowe is to this hour, + as to her own mind. Tell her, that I hope she never will know the + particulars; but that she has been unworthily used: tell her, that though + I know not what she has said, yet I have such an opinion of her veracity, + that I would blindly subscribe to the truth of every tittle of it, though + it make me ever so black. Tell her, that I have but three things to blame + her for; one, that she won't give me an opportunity of repairing her + wrongs: the second, that she is so ready to acquaint every body with what + she has suffered, that it will put it out of my power to redress those + wrongs, with any tolerable reputation to either of us. Will this, Mr. + Hickman, answer any part of the intention of this visit? + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, this is talking like a man of honour, I own. But you say there + is a third thing you blame the lady for: May I ask what that is? + </p> + <p> + I don't know, Sir, whether I ought to tell it you, or not. Perhaps you + won't believe it, if I do. But though the lady will tell the truth, and + nothing but the truth, yet, perhaps, she will not tell the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + Pray, Sir—But it mayn't be proper—Yet you give me great + curiosity. Sure there is no misconduct in the lady. I hope there is not. I + am sure, if Miss Howe did not believe her to be faultless in every + particular, she would not interest herself so much in her favour as she + does, dearly as she loves her. + </p> + <p> + I love Miss Harlowe too well, Mr. Hickman, to wish to lessen her in Miss + Howe's opinion; especially as she is abandoned of every other friend. But, + perhaps, it would hardly be credited, if I should tell you. + </p> + <p> + I should be very sorry, Sir, and so would Miss Howe, if this poor lady's + conduct had laid her under obligation to you for this reserve.—You + have so much the appearance of a gentleman, as well as are so much + distinguished in your family and fortunes, that I hope you are incapable + of loading such a young lady as this, in order to lighten yourself—— + Excuse me, Sir. + </p> + <p> + I do, I do, Mr. Hickman. You say you came not with any intention to + affront me. I take freedom, and I give it. I should be very loth, I + repeat, to say any thing that may weaken Miss Harlowe in the good opinion + of the only friend she thinks she has left. + </p> + <p> + It may not be proper, said he, for me to know your third article against + this unhappy lady: but I never heard of any body, out of her own + implacable family, that had the least doubt of her honour. Mrs. Howe, + indeed, once said, after a conference with one of her uncles, that she + feared all was not right on her side.—But else, I never heard— + </p> + <p> + Oons, Sir, in a fierce tone, and with an erect mien, stopping short upon + him, which made him start back—'tis next to blasphemy to question + this lady's honour. She is more pure than a vestal; for vestals have often + been warmed by their own fires. No age, from the first to the present, + ever produced, nor will the future, to the end of the world, I dare aver, + ever produce, a young blooming lady, tried as she has been tried, who has + stood all trials, as she has done.—Let me tell you, Sir, that you + never saw, never knew, never heard of, such another woman as Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + Sir, Sir, I beg your pardon. Far be it from me to question the lady. You + have not heard me say a word that could be so construed. I have the utmost + honour for her. Miss Howe loves her, as she loves her own soul; and that + she would not do, if she were not sure she were as virtuous as herself. + </p> + <p> + As herself, Sir!—I have a high opinion of Miss Howe, Sir—but, + I dare say— + </p> + <p> + What, Sir, dare you say of Miss Howe!—I hope, Sir, you will not + presume to say any thing to the disparagement of Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Presume, Mr. Hickman!—that is presuming language, let me tell you, + Mr. Hickman! + </p> + <p> + The occasion for it, Mr. Lovelace, if designed, is presuming, if you + please.—I am not a man ready to take offence, Sir—especially + where I am employed as a mediator. But no man breathing shall say + disparaging things of Miss Howe, in my hearing, without observation. + </p> + <p> + Well said, Mr. Hickman. I dislike not your spirit, on such a supposed + occasion. But what I was going to say is this. That there is not, in my + opinion, a woman in the world, who ought to compare herself with Miss + Clarissa Harlowe till she has stood her trials, and has behaved under + them, and after them, as she has done. You see, Sir, I speak against + myself. You see I do. For, libertine as I am thought to be, I never will + attempt to bring down the measures of right and wrong to the standard of + my actions. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, this is very right. It is very noble, I will say. But 'tis pity, + that the man who can pronounce so fine a sentence, will not square his + actions accordingly. + </p> + <p> + That, Mr. Hickman, is another point. We all err in some things. I wish not + that Miss Howe should have Miss Harlowe's trials: and I rejoice that she + is in no danger of any such from so good a man. + </p> + <p> + (Poor Hickman!—he looked as if he knew not whether I meant a + compliment or a reflection!) + </p> + <p> + But, proceeded I, since I find that I have excited your curiosity, that + you may not go away with a doubt that may be injurious to the most + admirable of women, I am enclined to hint to you what I have in the third + place to blame her for. + </p> + <p> + Sir, as you please—it may not be proper— + </p> + <p> + It cannot be very improper, Mr. Hickman—So let me ask you, What + would Miss Howe think, if her friend is the more determined against me, + because she thinks (to revenge to me, I verily believe that!) of + encouraging another lover? + </p> + <p> + How, Sir!—Sure this cannot be the case!—I can tell you, Sir, + if Miss Howe thought this, she would not approve of it at all: for, little + as you think Miss Howe likes you, Sir, and little as she approves of your + actions by her friend, I know she is of opinion that she ought to have + nobody living but you: and should continue single all her life, if she be + not your's. + </p> + <p> + Revenge and obstinacy, Mr. Hickman, will make women, the best of them, do + very unaccountable things. Rather than not put out both eyes of a man they + are offended with, they will give up one of their own. + </p> + <p> + I don't know what to say to this, Sir: but sure she cannot encourage any + other person's address!—So soon too—Why, Sir, she is, as we + are told, so ill, and so weak—— + </p> + <p> + Not in resentment weak, I'll assure you. I am well acquainted with all her + movements—and I tell you, believe it, or not, that she refuses me in + view of another lover. + </p> + <p> + Can it be? + </p> + <p> + 'Tis true, by my soul!—Has she not hinted this to Miss Howe, do you + think? + </p> + <p> + No, indeed, Sir. If she had I should not have troubled you at this time + from Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Well then, you see I am right: that though she cannot be guilty of a + falsehood, yet she has not told her friend the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + What shall a man say to these things!—(looking most stupidly + perplexed.) + </p> + <p> + Say! Say! Mr. Hickman!—Who can account for the workings and ways of + a passionate and offended woman? Endless would be the histories I could + give you, within my own knowledge, of the dreadful effects of woman's + passionate resentments, and what that sex will do when disappointed. + </p> + <p> + There was Miss DORRINGTON, [perhaps you know her not,] who run away with + her father's groom, because he would not let her have a half-pay officer, + with whom (her passions all up) she fell in love at first sight, as he + accidentally passed under her window. + </p> + <p> + There was MISS SAVAGE; she married her mother's coachman, because her + mother refused her a journey to Wales; in apprehension that miss intended + to league herself with a remote cousin of unequal fortunes, of whom she + was not a little fond when he was a visiting-guest at their house for a + week. + </p> + <p> + There was the young widow SANDERSON, who believing herself slighted by a + younger brother of a noble family, (Sarah Stout like,) took it into her + head to drown herself. + </p> + <p> + Miss SALLY ANDERSON, [You have heard of her, no doubt?] being checked by + her uncle for encouraging an address beneath her, in spite, threw herself + into the arms of an ugly dog, a shoe-maker's apprentice, running away with + him in a pair of shoes he had just fitted to her feet, though she never + saw the fellow before, and hated him ever after: and, at last, took + laudanum to make her forget for ever her own folly. + </p> + <p> + But can there be a stronger instance in point than what the unaccountable + resentments of such a lady as Miss Clarissa Harlowe afford us? Who at this + instant, ill as she is, not only encourages, but, in a manner, makes court + to one of the most odious dogs that ever was seen? I think Miss Howe + should not be told this—and yet she ought too, in order to dissuade + her from such a preposterous rashness. + </p> + <p> + O fie! O strange! Miss Howe knows nothing of this! To be sure she won't + look upon her, if this be true! + </p> + <p> + 'Tis true, very true, Mr. Hickman! True as I am here to tell you so!— + And he is an ugly fellow too; uglier to look at than me. + </p> + <p> + Than you, Sir! Why, to be sure, you are one of the handsomest men in + England. + </p> + <p> + Well, but the wretch she so spitefully prefers to me is a mis-shapen, + meagre varlet; more like a skeleton than a man! Then he dresses—you + never saw a devil so bedizened! Hardly a coat to his back, nor a shoe to + his foot. A bald-pated villain, yet grudges to buy a peruke to his + baldness: for he is as covetous as hell, never satisfied, yet plaguy rich. + </p> + <p> + Why, Sir, there is some joke in this, surely. A man of common parts knows + not how to take such gentleman as you. But, Sir, if there be any truth in + the story, what is he? Some Jew or miserly citizen, I suppose, that may + have presumed on the lady's distressful circumstances; and your lively wit + points him out as it pleases. + </p> + <p> + Why, the rascal has estates in every county in England, and out of England + too. + </p> + <p> + Some East India governor, I suppose, if there be any thing in it. The lady + once had thoughts of going abroad. But I fancy all this time you are in + jest, Sir. If not, we must surely have heard of him—— + </p> + <p> + Heard of him! Aye, Sir, we have all heard of him—But none of us care + to be intimate with him—except this lady—and that, as I told + you, in spite of me—his name, in short, is DEATH!—DEATH! Sir, + stamping, and speaking loud, and full in his ears; which made him jump + half a yard high. + </p> + <p> + (Thou never beheldest any man so disconcerted. He looked as if the + frightful skeleton was before him, and he had not his accounts ready. When + a little recovered, he fribbled with his waistcoat buttons, as if he had + been telling his beads.) + </p> + <p> + This, Sir, proceeded I, is her wooer!—Nay, she is so forward a girl, + that she wooes him: but I hope it never will be a match. + </p> + <p> + He had before behaved, and now looked with more spirit than I expected + from him. + </p> + <p> + I came, Sir, said he, as a mediator of differences.—It behoves me to + keep my temper. But, Sir, and turned short upon me, as much as I love + peace, and to promote it, I will not be ill-used. + </p> + <p> + As I had played so much upon him, it would have been wrong to take him at + his more than half-menace: yet I think I owe him a grudge, for his + presuming to address Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + You mean no defiance, I presume, Mr. Hickman, any more than I do offence. + On that presumption, I ask your excuse. But this is my way. I mean no + harm. I cannot let sorrow touch my heart. I cannot be grave six minutes + together, for the blood of me. I am a descendant of old Chancellor Moore, + I believe; and should not forbear to cut a joke, were I upon the scaffold. + But you may gather, from what I have said, that I prefer Miss Harlowe, and + that upon the justest grounds, to all the women in the world: and I wonder + that there should be any difficulty to believe, from what I have signed, + and from what I have promised to my relations, and enabled them to promise + for me, that I should be glad to marry that excellent creature upon her + own terms. I acknowledge to you, Mr. Hickman, that I have basely injured + her. If she will honour me with her hand, I declare that is my intention + to make her the best of husbands.— But, nevertheless, I must say + that if she goes on appealing her case, and exposing us both, as she does, + it is impossible to think the knot can be knit with reputation to either. + And although, Mr. Hickman, I have delivered my apprehensions under so + ludicrous a figure, I am afraid that she will ruin her constitution: and, + by seeking Death when she may shun him, will not be able to avoid him when + she would be glad to do so. + </p> + <p> + This cool and honest speech let down his stiffened muscles into + complacence. He was my very obedient and faithful humble servant several + times over, as I waited on him to his chariot: and I was his almost as + often. + </p> + <p> + And so exit Hickman. + </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 XXIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. [IN ANSWER TO LETTERS XXII. XXVI. + XXVII. OF THIS VOLUME.] FRIDAY NIGHT, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + I will throw away a few paragraphs upon the contents of thy last shocking + letters just brought me; and send what I shall write by the fellow who + carries mine on the interview with Hickman. + </p> + <p> + Reformation, I see, is coming fast upon thee. Thy uncle's slow death, and + thy attendance upon him through every stage towards it, prepared thee for + it. But go thou on in thine own way, as I will in mine. Happiness consists + in being pleased with what we do: and if thou canst find delight in being + sad, it will be as well for thee as if thou wert merry, though no other + person should join to keep thee in countenance. + </p> + <p> + I am, nevertheless, exceedingly disturbed at the lady's ill health. It is + entirely owing to the cursed arrest. She was absolutely triumphant over me + and the whole crew before. Thou believest me guiltless of that: so, I + hope, does she.—The rest, as I have often said, is a common case; + only a little uncommonly circumstanced; that's all: Why, then, all these + severe things from her, and from thee? + </p> + <p> + As to selling her clothes, and her laces, and so forth, it has, I own, a + shocking sound to it. What an implacable as well as unjust set of wretches + are those of her unkindredly kin, who have money of her's in their hands, + as well as large arrears of her own estate; yet with-hold both, avowedly + to distress her! But may she not have money of that proud and saucy friend + of her's, Miss Howe, more than she wants?—And should not I be + overjoyed, thinkest thou, to serve her?——What then is there in + the parting with her apparel but female perverseness?—And I am not + sure, whether I ought not to be glad, if she does this out of spite to me.— + Some disappointed fair-ones would have hanged, some drowned themselves. My + beloved only revenges herself upon her clothes. Different ways of working + has passion in different bosoms, as humours or complexion induce. —Besides, + dost think I shall grudge to replace, to three times the value, what she + disposes of? So, Jack, there is no great matter in this. + </p> + <p> + Thou seest how sensible she is of the soothings of the polite doctor: this + will enable thee to judge how dreadfully the horrid arrest, and her gloomy + father's curse, must have hurt her. I have great hope, if she will but see + me, that my behaviour, my contrition, my soothings, may have some happy + effect upon her. + </p> + <p> + But thou art too ready to give up. Let me seriously tell thee that, all + excellence as she is, I think the earnest interposition of my relations; + the implored mediation of that little fury Miss Howe; and the commissions + thou actest under from myself; are such instances of condescension and + high value in them, and such contrition in me, that nothing farther can be + done.—So here let the matter rest for the present, till she + considers better of it. + </p> + <p> + But now a few words upon poor Belton's case. I own I was at first a little + startled at the disloyalty of his Thomasine. Her hypocrisy to be for so + many years undetected!—I have very lately had some intimations given + me of her vileness; and had intended to mention them to thee when I saw + thee. To say the truth, I always suspected her eye: the eye, thou knowest, + is the casement at which the heart generally looks out. Many a woman, who + will not show herself at the door, has tipt the sly, the intelligible wink + from the windows. + </p> + <p> + But Tom. had no management at all. A very careless fellow. Would never + look into his own affairs. The estate his uncle left him was his ruin: + wife, or mistress, whoever was, must have had his fortune to sport with. + </p> + <p> + I have often hinted his weakness of this sort to him; and the danger he + was in of becoming the property of designing people. But he hated to take + pains. He would ever run away from his accounts; as now, poor fellow! he + would be glad to do from himself. Had he not had a woman to fleece him, + his coachman or valet, would have been his prime-minister, and done it as + effectually. + </p> + <p> + But yet, for many years, I thought she was true to his bed. At least I + thought the boys were his own. For though they are muscular, and + big-boned, yet I supposed the healthy mother might have furnished them + with legs and shoulders: for she is not of a delicate frame; and then + Tom., some years ago, looked up, and spoke more like a man, than he has + done of late; squeaking inwardly, poor fellow! for some time past, from + contracted quail-pipes, and wheezing from lungs half spit away. + </p> + <p> + He complains, thou sayest, that we all run away from him. Why, after all, + Belford, it is no pleasant thing to see a poor fellow one loves, dying by + inches, yet unable to do him good. There are friendships which are only + bottle-deep: I should be loth to have it thought that mine for any of my + vassals is such a one. Yet, with gay hearts, which become intimate because + they were gay, the reason for their first intimacy ceasing, the friendship + will fade: but may not this sort of friendship be more properly + distinguished by the word companionship? + </p> + <p> + But mine, as I said, is deeper than this: I would still be as ready as + ever I was in my life, to the utmost of my power, to do him service. + </p> + <p> + As once instance of this my readiness to extricate him from all his + difficulties as to Thomasine, dost thou care to propose to him an + expedient, that is just come into my head? + </p> + <p> + It is this: I would engage Thomasine and her cubs (if Belton be convinced + they are neither of them his) in a party of pleasure. She was always + complaisant to me. It should be in a boat, hired for the purpose, to sail + to Tilbury, to the Isle Shepey, or pleasuring up the Medway; and 'tis but + contriving to turn the boat bottom upward. I can swim like a fish. Another + boat shall be ready to take up whom I should direct, for fear of the + worst: and then, if Tom. has a mind to be decent, one suit of mourning + will serve for all three: Nay, the hostler-cousin may take his plunge from + the steerage: and who knows but they may be thrown up on the beach, + Thomasine and he, hand in hand? + </p> + <p> + This, thou'lt say, is no common instance of friendship. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, do thou prevail on him to come down to us: he never was more + welcome in his life than he shall be now. If he will not, let him find me + some other service; and I will clap a pair of wings to my shoulders, and + he shall see me come flying in at his windows at the word of command. + </p> + <p> + Mowbray and Tourville each intend to give thee a letter; and I leave to + those rough varlets to handle thee as thou deservest, for the shocking + picture thou hast drawn of their last ends. Thy own past guilt has stared + thee full in the face, one may see by it; and made thee, in consciousness + of thy demerits, sketch out these cursed out-lines. I am glad thou hast + got the old fiend to hold the glass* before thy own face so soon. Thou + must be in earnest surely, when thou wrotest it, and have severe + conviction upon thee: for what a hardened varlet must he be, who could + draw such a picture as this in sport? + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XXVI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + As for thy resolution of repenting and marrying; I would have thee + consider which thou wilt set about first. If thou wilt follow my advice, + thou shalt make short work of it: let matrimony take place of the other; + for then thou wilt, very possibly, have repentance come tumbling in fast + upon thee, as a consequence, and so have both in one. + </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 XXX + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO MR. ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. FRIDAY NOON, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + This morning I was admitted, as soon as I sent up my name, into the + presence of the divine lady. Such I may call her; as what I have to relate + will fully prove. + </p> + <p> + She had had a tolerable night, and was much better in spirits; though weak + in person; and visibly declining in looks. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith were with her; and accused her, in a gentle + manner, of having applied herself too assiduously to her pen for her + strength, having been up ever since five. She said, she had rested better + than she had done for many nights: she had found her spirits free, and her + mind tolerably easy: and having, as she had reason to think, but a short + time, and much to do in it, she must be a good housewife of her hours. + </p> + <p> + She had been writing, she said, a letter to her sister: but had not + pleased herself in it; though she had made two or three essays: but that + the last must go. + </p> + <p> + By hints I had dropt from time to time, she had reason, she said, to think + that I knew every thing that concerned her and her family; and, if so, + must be acquainted with the heavy curse her father had laid upon her; + which had been dreadfully fulfilled in one part, as to her prospects in + this life, and that in a very short time; which gave her great + apprehensions of the other part. She had been applying herself to her + sister, to obtain a revocation of it. I hope my father will revoke it, + said she, or I shall be very miserable—Yet [and she gasped as she + spoke, with apprehension]—I am ready to tremble at what the answer + may be; for my sister is hard-hearted. + </p> + <p> + I said something reflecting upon her friends; as to what they would + deserve to be thought of, if the unmerited imprecation were not withdrawn. + Upon which she took me up, and talked in such a dutiful manner of her + parents as must doubly condemn them (if they remain implacable) for their + inhuman treatment of such a daughter. + </p> + <p> + She said, I must not blame her parents: it was her dear Miss Howe's fault + to do so. But what an enormity was there in her crime, which could set the + best of parents (they had been to her, till she disobliged them) in a bad + light, for resenting the rashness of a child from whose education they had + reason to expect better fruits! There were some hard circumstances in her + case, it was true: but my friend could tell me, that no one person, + throughout the whole fatal transaction, had acted out of character, but + herself. She submitted therefore to the penalty she had incurred. If they + had any fault, it was only that they would not inform themselves of such + circumstances, which would alleviate a little her misdeed; and that + supposing her a more guilty creature than she was, they punished her + without a hearing. + </p> + <p> + Lord!—I was going to curse thee, Lovelace! How every instance of + excellence, in this all excelling creature, condemns thee;—thou wilt + have reason to think thyself of all men the most accursed, if she die! + </p> + <p> + I then besought her, while she was capable of such glorious instances of + generosity, and forgiveness, to extend her goodness to a man, whose heart + bled in every vein of it for the injuries he had done her; and who would + make it the study of his whole life to repair them. + </p> + <p> + The women would have withdrawn when the subject became so particular. But + she would not permit them to go. She told me, that if after this time I + was for entering with so much earnestness into a subject so very + disagreeable to her, my visits must not be repeated. Nor was there + occasion, she said, for my friendly offices in your favour; since she had + begun to write her whole mind upon that subject to Miss Howe, in answer to + letters from her, in which Miss Howe urged the same arguments, in + compliment to the wishes of your noble and worthy relations. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, you may let him know, said she, that I reject him with my whole + heart:—yet, that although I say this with such a determination as + shall leave no room for doubt, I say it not however with passion. On the + contrary, tell him, that I am trying to bring my mind into such a frame as + to be able to pity him; [poor perjured wretch! what has he not to answer + for!] and that I shall not think myself qualified for the state I am + aspiring to, if, after a few struggles more, I cannot forgive him too: and + I hope, clasping her hands together, uplifted as were her eyes, my dear + earthly father will set me the example my heavenly one has already set us + all; and, by forgiving his fallen daughter, teach her to forgive the man, + who then, I hope, will not have destroyed my eternal prospects, as he has + my temporal! + </p> + <p> + Stop here, thou wretch!—but I need not bid thee!——for I + can go no farther! + </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 XXXI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD [IN CONTINUATION.] + </p> + <p> + You will imagine how affecting her noble speech and behaviour were to me, + at the time when the bare recollecting and transcribing them obliged me to + drop my pen. The women had tears in their eyes. I was silent for a few + moments.—At last, Matchless excellence! Inimitable goodness! I + called her, with a voice so accented, that I was half-ashamed of myself, + as it was before the women—but who could stand such sublime + generosity of soul in so young a creature, her loveliness giving grace to + all she said? Methinks, said I, [and I really, in a manner, involuntarily + bent my knee,] I have before me an angel indeed. I can hardly forbear + prostration, and to beg your influence to draw me after you to the world + you are aspiring to!—Yet—but what shall I say—Only, + dearest excellence, make me, in some small instances, serviceable to you, + that I may (if I survive you) have the glory to think I was able to + contribute to your satisfaction, while among us. + </p> + <p> + Here I stopt. She was silent. I proceeded—Have you no commission to + employ me in; deserted as you are by all your friends; among strangers, + though I doubt not, worthy people? Cannot I be serviceable by message, by + letter-writing, by attending personally, with either message or letter, + your father, your uncles, your brother, your sister, Miss Howe, Lord M., + or the Ladies his sisters?—any office to be employed to serve you, + absolutely independent of my friend's wishes, or of my own wishes to + oblige him?—Think, Madam, if I cannot? + </p> + <p> + I thank you, Sir: very heartily I thank you: but in nothing that I can at + present think of, or at least resolve upon, can you do me service. I will + see what return the letter I have written will bring me.—Till then + —— + </p> + <p> + My life and my fortune, interrupted I, are devoted to your service. Permit + me to observe, that here you are, without one natural friend; and (so much + do I know of your unhappy case) that you must be in a manner destitute of + the means to make friends—— + </p> + <p> + She was going to interrupt me, with a prohibitory kind of earnestness in + her manner. + </p> + <p> + I beg leave to proceed, Madam: I have cast about twenty ways how to + mention this before, but never dared till now. Suffer me now, that I have + broken the ice, to tender myself—as your banker only.—I know + you will not be obliged: you need not. You have sufficient of your own, if + it were in your hands; and from that, whether you live or die, will I + consent to be reimbursed. I do assure you, that the unhappy man shall + never know either my offer, or your acceptance—Only permit me this + small —— + </p> + <p> + And down behind her chair dropt a bank note of 100£. which I had brought + with me, intending some how or other to leave it behind me: nor shouldst + thou ever have known it, had she favoured me with the acceptance of it; as + I told her. + </p> + <p> + You give me great pain, Mr. Belford, said she, by these instances of your + humanity. And yet, considering the company I have seen you in, I am not + sorry to find you capable of such. Methinks I am glad, for the sake of + human nature, that there could be but one such man in the world, as he you + and I know. But as to your kind offer, whatever it be, if you take it not + up, you will greatly disturb me. I have no need of your kindness. I have + effects enough, which I never can want, to supply my present occasion: + and, if needful, can have recourse to Miss Howe. I have promised that I + would—So, pray, Sir, urge not upon me this favour.—Take it up + yourself.—If you mean me peace and ease of mind, urge not this + favour.—And she spoke with impatience. + </p> + <p> + I beg, Madam, but one word—— + </p> + <p> + Not one, Sir, till you have taken back what you have let fall. I doubt not + either the honour, or the kindness, of your offer; but you must not say + one word more on this subject. I cannot bear it. + </p> + <p> + She was stooping, but with pain. I therefore prevented her; and besought + her to forgive me for a tender, which, I saw, had been more discomposing + to her than I had hoped (from the purity of my intentions) it would be. + But I could not bear to think that such a mind as her's should be + distressed: since the want of the conveniencies she was used to abound in + might affect and disturb her in the divine course she was in. + </p> + <p> + You are very kind to me, Sir, said she, and very favourable in your + opinion of me. But I hope that I cannot now be easily put out of my + present course. My declining health will more and more confirm me in it. + Those who arrested and confined me, no doubt, thought they had fallen upon + the most ready method to distress me so as to bring me into all their + measures. But I presume to hope that I have a mind that cannot be debased, + in essential instances, by temporal calamities. + </p> + <p> + Little do those poor wretches know of the force of innate principles, + (forgive my own implied vanity, was her word,) who imagine, that a prison, + or penury, can bring a right-turned mind to be guilty of a wilful + baseness, in order to avoid such short-lived evils. + </p> + <p> + She then turned from me towards the window, with a dignity suitable to her + words; and such as showed her to be more of soul than of body at that + instant. + </p> + <p> + What magnanimity!—No wonder a virtue so solidly founded could baffle + all thy arts: and that it forced thee (in order to carry thy accursed + point) to have recourse to those unnatural ones, which robbed her of her + charming senses. + </p> + <p> + The women were extremely affected, Mrs. Lovick especially; who said, + whisperingly to Mrs. Smith, We have an angel, not a woman, with us, Mrs. + Smith! + </p> + <p> + I repeated my offers to write to any of her friends; and told her, that, + having taken the liberty to acquaint Dr. H. with the cruel displeasure of + her relations, as what I presumed lay nearest to her heart, he had + proposed to write himself, to acquaint her friends how ill she was, if she + would not take it amiss. + </p> + <p> + It was kind in the Doctor, she said: but begged, that no step of that sort + might be taken without her knowledge or consent. She would wait to see + what effects her letter to her sister would have. All she had to hope for + was, that her father would revoke his malediction, previous to the last + blessing she should then implore. For the rest, her friends would think + she could not suffer too much; and she was content to suffer: for now + nothing could happen that could make her wish to live. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith went down; and, soon returning, asked, if the lady and I would + not dine with her that day; for it was her wedding-day. She had engaged + Mrs. Lovick she said; and should have nobody else, if we would do her that + favour. + </p> + <p> + The charming creature sighed, and shook her head.—Wedding-day, + repeated she!—I wish you, Mrs. Smith, many happy wedding-days!—But + you will excuse me. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Smith came up with the same request. They both applied to me. + </p> + <p> + On condition the lady would, I should make no scruple; and would suspend + an engagement: which I actually had. + </p> + <p> + She then desired they would all sit down. You have several times, Mrs. + Lovick and Mrs. Smith, hinted your wishes, that I would give you some + little history of myself: now, if you are at leisure, that this gentleman, + who, I have reason to believe, knows it all, is present, and can tell you + if I give it justly, or not, I will oblige your curiosity. + </p> + <p> + They all eagerly, the man Smith too, sat down; and she began an account of + herself, which I will endeavour to repeat, as nearly in her own words as I + possibly can: for I know you will think it of importance to be apprized of + her manner of relating your barbarity to her, as well as what her + sentiments are of it; and what room there is for the hopes your friends + have in your favour for her. + </p> + <p> + 'At first when I took these lodgings, said she, I thought of staying but a + short time in them; and so Mrs. Smith, I told you: I therefore avoided + giving any other account of myself than that I was a very unhappy young + creature, seduced from good, and escaped from very vile wretches. + </p> + <p> + 'This account I thought myself obliged to give, that you might the less + wonder at seeing a young creature rushing through your shop, into your + back apartment, all trembling and out of breath; an ordinary garb over my + own; craving lodging and protection; only giving my bare word, that you + should be handsomely paid: all my effects contained in a + pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + 'My sudden absence, for three days and nights together when arrested, must + still further surprise you: and although this gentleman, who, perhaps, + knows more of the darker part of my story, than I do myself, has informed + you (as you, Mrs. Lovick, tell me) that I am only an unhappy, not a guilty + creature; yet I think it incumbent upon me not to suffer honest minds to + be in doubt about my character. + </p> + <p> + 'You must know, then, that I have been, in one instance (I had like to + have said but in one instance; but that was a capital one) an undutiful + child to the most indulgent of parents: for what some people call cruelty + in them, is owing but to the excess of their love, and to their + disappointment, having had reason to expect better from me. + </p> + <p> + 'I was visited (at first, with my friends connivance) by a man of birth + and fortune, but of worse principles, as it proved, than I believed any + man could have. My brother, a very headstrong young man, was absent at + that time; and, when he returned, (from an old grudge, and knowing the + gentleman, it is plain, better than I knew him) entirely disapproved of + his visits: and, having a great sway in our family, brought other + gentlemen to address me: and at last (several having been rejected) he + introduced one extremely disagreeable: in every indifferent person's eyes + disagreeable. I could not love him. They all joined to compel me to have + him; a rencounter between the gentleman my friends were set against, and + my brother, having confirmed them all his enemies. + </p> + <p> + 'To be short; I was confined, and treated so very hardly, that, in a rash + fit, I appointed to go off with the man they hated. A wicked intention, + you'll say! but I was greatly provoked. Nevertheless, I repented, and + resolved not to go off with him: yet I did not mistrust his honour to me + neither; nor his love; because nobody thought me unworthy of the latter, + and my fortune was not to be despised. But foolishly (wickedly and + contrivingly, as my friends still think, with a design, as they imagine, + to abandon them) giving him a private meeting, I was tricked away; poorly + enough tricked away, I must needs say; though others who had been first + guilty of so rash a step as the meeting of him was, might have been so + deceived and surprised as well as I. + </p> + <p> + 'After remaining some time at a farm-house in the country, and behaving to + me all the time with honour, he brought me to handsome lodgings in town + till still better provision could be made for me. But they proved to be + (as he indeed knew and designed) at a vile, a very vile creature's; though + it was long before I found her to be so; for I knew nothing of the town, + or its ways. + </p> + <p> + 'There is no repeating what followed: such unprecedented vile arts!—For + I gave him no opportunity to take me at any disreputable advantage.'— + </p> + <p> + And here (half covering her sweet face, with her handkerchief put to her + tearful eyes) she stopt. + </p> + <p> + Hastily, as if she would fly from the hateful remembrance, she resumed:— + 'I made escape afterward from the abominable house in his absence, and + came to your's: and this gentleman has almost prevailed on me to think, + that the ungrateful man did not connive at the vile arrest: which was + made, no doubt, in order to get me once more to those wicked lodgings: for + nothing do I owe them, except I were to pay them'—[she sighed, and + again wiped her charming eyes—adding in a softer, lower voice]—'for + being ruined.' + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Madam, said I, guilty, abominably guilty, as he is in all the + rest, he is innocent of this last wicked outrage. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, and so I wish him to be. That evil, heavy as it was, is one of the + slightest evils I have suffered. But hence you'll observe, Mrs. Lovick, + (for you seemed this morning curious to know if I were not a wife,) that I + never was married.—You, Mr. Belford, no doubt, knew before that I am + no wife: and now I never will be one. Yet, I bless God, that I am not a + guilty creature! + </p> + <p> + 'As to my parentage, I am of no mean family; I have in my own right, by + the intended favour of my grandfather, a fortune not contemptible: + independent of my father; if I had pleased; but I never will please. + </p> + <p> + 'My father is very rich. I went by another name when I came to you first: + but that was to avoid being discovered to the perfidious man: who now + engages, by this gentleman, not to molest me. + </p> + <p> + 'My real name you now know to be Harlowe: Clarissa Harlowe. I am not yet + twenty years of age. + </p> + <p> + 'I have an excellent mother, as well as father; a woman of family, and + fine sense—worthy of a better child!—they both doated upon me. + </p> + <p> + 'I have two good uncles: men of great fortune; jealous of the honour of + their family; which I have wounded. + </p> + <p> + 'I was the joy of their hearts; and, with theirs and my father's, I had + three houses to call my own; for they used to have me with them by turns, + and almost kindly to quarrel for me; so that I was two months in the year + with the one; two months with the other; six months at my father's; and + two at the houses of others of my dear friends, who thought themselves + happy in me: and whenever I was at any one's, I was crowded upon with + letters by all the rest, who longed for my return to them. + </p> + <p> + 'In short, I was beloved by every body. The poor—I used to make glad + their hearts: I never shut my hand to any distress, wherever I was—but + now I am poor myself! + </p> + <p> + 'So Mrs. Smith, so Mrs. Lovick, I am not married. It is but just to tell + you so. And I am now, as I ought to be, in a state of humiliation and + penitence for the rash step which has been followed by so much evil. God, + I hope, will forgive me, as I am endeavouring to bring my mind to forgive + all the world, even the man who has ungratefully, and by dreadful + perjuries, [poor wretch! he thought all his wickedness to be wit!] reduced + to this a young creature, who had his happiness in her view, and in her + wish, even beyond this life; and who was believed to be of rank, and + fortune, and expectations, considerable enough to make it the interest of + any gentleman in England to be faithful to his vows to her. But I cannot + expect that my parents will forgive me: my refuge must be death; the most + painful kind of which I would suffer, rather than be the wife of one who + could act by me, as the man has acted, upon whose birth, education, and + honour, I had so much reason to found better expectations. + </p> + <p> + 'I see, continued she, that I, who once was every one's delight, am now + the cause of grief to every one—you, that are strangers to me, are + moved for me! 'tis kind!—but 'tis time to stop. Your compassionate + hearts, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick, are too much touched,' [For the women + sobbed, and the man was also affected.] 'It is barbarous in me, with my + woes, thus to sadden your wedding-day.' Then turning to Mr. and Mrs. Smith— + 'May you see many happy ones, honest, good couple!—how agreeable is + it to see you both join so kindly to celebrate it, after many years are + gone over you!—I once—but no more!—All my prospects of + felicity, as to this life, are at an end. My hopes, like opening buds or + blossoms in an over-forward spring, have been nipt by a severe frost!—blighted + by an eastern wind!—but I can but once die; and if life be spared + me, but till I am discharged from a heavy malediction, which my father in + his wrath laid upon me, and which is fulfilled literally in every article + relating to this world; that, and a last blessing, are all I have to wish + for; and death will be welcomer to me, than rest to the most wearied + traveller that ever reached his journey's end.' + </p> + <p> + And then she sunk her head against the back of her chair, and, hiding her + face with her handkerchief, endeavoured to conceal her tears from us. + </p> + <p> + Not a soul of us could speak a word. Thy presence, perhaps, thou hardened + wretch, might have made us ashamed of a weakness which perhaps thou wilt + deride me in particular for, when thou readest this!—— + </p> + <p> + She retired to her chamber soon after, and was forced, it seems, to lie + down. We all went down together; and, for an hour and a half, dwelt upon + her praises; Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick repeatedly expressing their + astonishment, that there could be a man in the world, capable of + offending, much more of wilfully injuring such a lady; and repeating, that + they had an angel in their house.—I thought they had; and that as + assuredly as there is a devil under the roof of good Lord M. + </p> + <p> + I hate thee heartily!—by my faith I do!—every hour I hate thee + more than the former!—— + </p> + <p> + J. BELFORD. <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SATURDAY, JULY 22. + </p> + <p> + What dost hate me for, Belford!—and why more and more! have I been + guilty of any offence thou knewest not before?—If pathos can move + such a heart as thine, can it alter facts!—Did I not always do this + incomparable creature as much justice as thou canst do her for the heart + of thee, or as she can do herself?——What nonsense then thy + hatred, thy augmented hatred, when I still persist to marry her, pursuant + to word given to thee, and to faith plighted to all my relations? But + hate, if thou wilt, so thou dost but write. Thou canst not hate me so much + as I do myself: and yet I know if thou really hatedst me, thou wouldst not + venture to tell me so. + </p> + <p> + Well, but after all, what need of her history to these women? She will + certainly repent, some time hence, that she has thus needless exposed us + both. + </p> + <p> + Sickness palls every appetite, and makes us hate what we loved: but + renewed health changes the scene; disposes us to be pleased with + ourselves; and then we are in a way to be pleased with every one else. + Every hope, then, rises upon us: every hour presents itself to us on + dancing feet: and what Mr. Addison says of liberty, may, with still + greater propriety, be said of health, for what is liberty itself without + health? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It makes the gloomy face of nature gay; + Gives beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day. +</pre> + <p> + And I rejoice that she is already so much better, as to hold with + strangers such a long and interesting conversation. + </p> + <p> + Strange, confoundedly strange, and as perverse [that is to say, womanly] + as strange, that she should refuse, and sooner choose to die [O the + obscene word! and yet how free does thy pen make with it to me!] than be + mine, who offended her by acting in character, while her parents acted + shamefully out of theirs, and when I am now willing to act out of my own + to oblige her; yet I am not to be forgiven; they to be faultless with her!—and + marriage the only medium to repair all breaches, and to salve her own + honour!—Surely thou must see the inconsistence of her forgiving + unforgiveness, as I may call it!—yet, heavy varlet as thou art, thou + wantest to be drawn up after her! And what a figure dost thou make with + thy speeches, stiff as Hickman's ruffles, with thy aspirations and + protestations!—unused, thy weak head, to bear the sublimities that + fall, even in common conversation, from the lips of this ever-charming + creature! + </p> + <p> + But the prettiest whim of all was, to drop the bank note behind her chair, + instead of presenting it on thy knees to her hand!—To make such a + woman as this doubly stoop—by the acceptance, and to take it from + the ground!—What an ungrateful benefit-conferrer art thou!—How + awkward, to take in into thy head, that the best way of making a present + to a lady was to throw the present behind her chair! + </p> + <p> + I am very desirous to see what she has written to her sister; what she is + about to write to Miss Howe; and what return she will have from the + Harlowe-Arabella. Canst thou not form some scheme to come at the copies of + these letters, or the substance of them at least, and of that of her other + correspondencies? Mrs. Lovick, thou seemest to say, is a pious woman. The + lady, having given such a particular history of herself, will acquaint her + with every thing. And art thou not about to reform!—Won't this + consent of minds between thee and the widow, [what age is she, Jack? the + devil never trumpt up a friendship between a man and a woman, of any thing + like years, which did not end in matrimony, or in the ruin of their + morals!] Won't it strike out an intimacy between ye, that may enable thee + to gratify me in this particular? A proselyte, I can tell thee, has great + influence upon your good people: such a one is a saint of their own + creation: and they will water, and cultivate, and cherish him, as a plant + of their own raising: and this from a pride truly spiritual! + </p> + <p> + One of my lovers in Paris was a devotée. She took great pains to convert + me. I gave way to her kind endeavours for the good of my soul. She thought + it a point gained to make me profess some religion. The catholic has its + conveniencies. I permitted her to bring a father to me. My reformation + went on swimmingly. The father had hopes of me: he applauded her zeal: so + did I. And how dost thou think it ended?—Not a girl in England, + reading thus far, but would guess!—In a word, very happily: for she + not only brought me a father, but made me one: and then, being satisfied + with each other's conversation, we took different routes: she into + Navarre; I into Italy: both well inclined to propagate the good lessons in + which we had so well instructed each other. + </p> + <p> + But to return. One consolation arises to me, from the pretty regrets which + this admirable creature seems to have in indulging reflections on the + people's wedding-day.—I ONCE!—thou makest her break off with + saying. + </p> + <p> + She once! What—O Belford! why didst thou not urge her to explain + what she once hoped? + </p> + <p> + What once a woman hopes, in love matters, she always hopes, while there is + room for hope: And are we not both single? Can she be any man's but mine? + Will I be any woman's but her's? + </p> + <p> + I never will! I never can!—and I tell thee, that I am every day, + every hour, more and more in love with her: and, at this instant, have a + more vehement passion for her than ever I had in my life!—and that + with views absolutely honourable, in her own sense of the word: nor have I + varied, so much as in wish, for this week past; firmly fixed, and wrought + into my very nature, as the life of honour, or of generous confidence in + me, was, in preference to the life of doubt and distrust. That must be a + life of doubt and distrust, surely, where the woman confides nothing, and + ties up a man for his good behaviour for life, taking church-and-state + sanctions in aid of the obligation she imposes upon him. + </p> + <p> + I shall go on Monday to a kind of ball, to which Colonel Ambrose has + invited me. It is given on a family account. I care not on what: for all + that delights me in the thing is, that Mrs. and Miss Howe are to be there;—Hickman, + of course; for the old lady will not stir abroad without him. The Colonel + is in hopes that Miss Arabella Harlowe will be there likewise; for all the + men and women of fashion round him are invited. + </p> + <p> + I fell in by accident with the Colonel, who I believe, hardly thought I + would accept of the invitation. But he knows me not, if he thinks I am + ashamed to appear at any place, where women dare show their faces. Yet he + hinted to me that my name was up, on Miss Harlowe's account. But, to + allude to one of Lord M.'s phrases, if it be, I will not lie a bed when + any thing joyous is going forward. + </p> + <p> + As I shall go in my Lord's chariot, I would have had one of my cousins + Montague to go with me: but they both refused: and I shall not choose to + take either of thy brethren. It would look as if I thought I wanted a + bodyguard: besides, one of them is too rough, the other too smooth, and + too great a fop for some of the staid company that will be there; and for + me in particular. Men are known by their companions; and a fop [as + Tourville, for example] takes great pains to hang out a sign by his dress + of what he has in his shop. Thou, indeed, art an exception; dressing like + a coxcomb, yet a very clever fellow. Nevertheless so clumsy a beau, that + thou seemest to me to owe thyself a double spite, making thy + ungracefulness appear the more ungraceful, by thy remarkable tawdriness, + when thou art out of mourning. + </p> + <p> + I remember, when I first saw thee, my mind laboured with a strong puzzle, + whether I should put thee down for a great fool, or a smatterer in wit. + Something I saw was wrong in thee, by thy dress. If this fellow, thought + I, delights not so much in ridicule, that he will not spare himself, he + must be plaguy silly to take so much pains to make his ugliness more + conspicuous than it would otherwise be. + </p> + <p> + Plain dress, for an ordinary man or woman, implies at least modesty, and + always procures a kind quarter from the censorious. Who will ridicule a + personal imperfection in one that seems conscious, that it is an + imperfection? Who ever said an anchoret was poor? But who would spare so + very absurd a wrong-head, as should bestow tinsel to make his deformity + the more conspicuous? + </p> + <p> + But, although I put on these lively airs, I am sick at my soul!—My + whole heart is with my charmer! with what indifference shall I look upon + all the assembly at the Colonel's, my beloved in my ideal eye, and + engrossing my whole heart? + </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 XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE THURSDAY, JULY 20. + </p> + <p> + MISS HARLOWE, + </p> + <p> + I cannot help acquainting you (however it may be received, coming from me) + that your poor sister is dangerously ill, at the house of one Smith, who + keeps a glover's and perfume shop, in King-street, Covent-garden. She + knows not that I write. Some violent words, in the nature of an + imprecation, from her father, afflict her greatly in her weak state. I + presume not to direct you what to do in this case. You are her sister. I + therefore could not help writing to you, not only for her sake, but for + your own. I am, Madam, + </p> + <p> + Your humble servant, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE [IN ANSWER.] THURSDAY, JULY 20. + </p> + <p> + MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + I have your's of this morning. All that has happened to the unhappy body + you mentioned, is what we foretold and expected. Let him, for whose sake + she abandoned us, be her comfort. We are told he has remorse, and would + marry her. We don't believe it, indeed. She may be very ill. Her + disappointment may make her so, or ought. Yet is she the only one I know + who is disappointed. + </p> + <p> + I cannot say, Miss, that the notification from you is the more welcome, + for the liberties you have been pleased to take with our whole family for + resenting a conduct, that it is a shame any young lady should justify. + Excuse this freedom, occasioned by greater. I am, Miss, + </p> + <p> + Your humble servant, ARABELLA HARLOWE. + </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 XXXV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE [IN REPLY.] FRIDAY, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE, + </p> + <p> + If you had half as much sense as you have ill-nature, you would + (notwithstanding the exuberance of the latter) have been able to + distinguish between a kind intention to you all (that you might have the + less to reproach yourselves with, if a deplorable case should happen) and + an officiousness I owed you not, by reason of freedoms at least + reciprocal. I will not, for the unhappy body's sake, as you call a sister + you have helped to make so, say all that I could say. If what I fear + happen, you shall hear (whether desired or not) all the mind of + </p> + <p> + ANNA HOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE FRIDAY, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + MISS ANNA HOWE, + </p> + <p> + Your pert letter I have received. You, that spare nobody, I cannot expect + should spare me. You are very happy in a prudent and watchful mother.—But + else mine cannot be exceeded in prudence; but we had all too good an + opinion of somebody, to think watchfulness needful. There may possibly be + some reason why you are so much attached to her in an error of this + flagrant nature. + </p> + <p> + I help to make a sister unhappy!—It is false, Miss!—It is all + her own doings!—except, indeed, what she may owe to somebody's + advice—you know who can best answer for that. + </p> + <p> + Let us know your mind as soon as you please: as we shall know it to be + your mind, we shall judge what attention to give it. That's all, from, + &c. + </p> + <p> + AR. H. LETTER XXXVII + </p> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE SAT. JULY 22. + </p> + <p> + It may be the misfortune of some people to engage every body's notice: + others may be the happier, though they may be the more envious, for + nobody's thinking them worthy of any. But one would be glad people had the + sense to be thankful for that want of consequence, which subject them not + to hazards they would heartily have been able to manage under. + </p> + <p> + I own to you, that had it not been for the prudent advice of that + admirable somebody (whose principal fault is the superiority of her + talents, and whose misfortune to be brother'd and sister'd by a couple of + creatures, who are not able to comprehend her excellencies) I might at one + time have been plunged into difficulties. But pert as the superlatively + pert may think me, I thought not myself wiser, because I was older; nor + for that poor reason qualified to prescribe to, much less to maltreat, a + genius so superior. + </p> + <p> + I repeat it with gratitude, that the dear creature's advice was of very + great service to me—and this before my mother's watchfulness became + necessary. But how it would have fared with me, I cannot say, had I had a + brother or sister, who had deemed it their interest, as well as a + gratification of their sordid envy, to misrepresent me. + </p> + <p> + Your admirable sister, in effect, saved you, Miss, as well as me—with + this difference—you, against your will—me with mine: and but + for your own brother, and his own sister, would not have been lost + herself. + </p> + <p> + Would to Heaven both sisters had been obliged with their own wills!—the + most admirable of her sex would never then have been out of her father's + house!—you, Miss—I don't know what had become of you.—But, + let what would have happened, you would have met with the humanity you + have not shown, whether you had deserved it or not:—nor, at the + worst, lost either a kind sister, or a pitying friend, in the most + excellent of sisters. + </p> + <p> + But why run I into length to such a poor thing? why push I so weak an + adversary? whose first letter is all low malice, and whose next is made up + of falsehood and inconsistence, as well as spite and ill-manners! yet I + was willing to give you a part of my mind. Call for more of it; it shall + be at your service: from one, who, though she thanks God she is not your + sister, is not your enemy: but that she is not the latter, is withheld but + by two considerations; one that you bear, though unworthily, a relation to + a sister so excellent; the other, that you are not of consequence enough + to engage any thing but the pity and contempt of + </p> + <p> + A.H. <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + MRS. HARLOWE, TO MRS. HOWE SAT. JULY 22. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I send you, enclosed, copies of five letters that have passed between Miss + Howe and my Arabella. You are a person of so much prudence and good sense, + and (being a mother yourself) can so well enter into the distresses of all + our family, upon the rashness and ingratitude of a child we once doated + upon, that, I dare say, you will not countenance the strange freedoms your + daughter has taken with us all. These are not the only ones we have to + complain of; but we were silent on the others, as they did not, as these + have done, spread themselves out upon paper. We only beg, that we may not + be reflected upon by a young lady who knows not what we have suffered, and + do suffer by the rashness of a naughty creature who has brought ruin upon + herself, and disgrace upon a family which she had robbed of all comfort. I + offer not to prescribe to your known wisdom in this case; but leave it to + you to do as you think most proper. I am, Madam, + </p> + <p> + Your most humble servant, CHARL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + MRS. HOWE [IN ANSWER.] SAT. JULY 22. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I am highly offended with my daughter's letters to Miss Harlowe. I knew + nothing at all of her having taken such a liberty. These young creatures + have such romantic notions, some of life, some of friendship, that there + is no governing them in either. Nothing but time, and dear experience, + will convince them of their absurdities in both. I have chidden Miss Howe + very severely. I had before so just a notion of what your whole family's + distress must be, that, as I told your brother, Mr. Antony Harlowe, I had + often forbid her corresponding with the poor fallen angel —for + surely never did young lady more resemble what we imagine of angels, both + in person and mind. But, tired out with her headstrong ways, [I am sorry + to say this of my own child,] I was forced to give way to it again. And, + indeed, so sturdy was she in her will, that I was afraid it would end in a + fit of sickness, as too often it did in fits of sullens. + </p> + <p> + None but parents know the trouble that children give. They are happiest, I + have often thought, who have none. And these women-grown girls, bless my + heart! how ungovernable! + </p> + <p> + I believe, however, you will have no more such letters from my Nancy. I + have been forced to use compulsion with her upon Miss Clary's illness, + [and it seems she is very bad,] or she would have run away to London, to + attend upon her: and this she calls doing the duty of a friend; forgetting + that she sacrifices to her romantic friendship her duty to her fond + indulgent mother. + </p> + <p> + There are a thousand excellencies in the poor sufferer, notwithstanding + her fault: and, if the hints she has given to my daughter be true, she has + been most grievously abused. But I think your forgiveness and her father's + forgiveness of her ought to be all at your own choice; and nobody should + intermeddle in that, for the sake of due authority in parents: and + besides, as Miss Harlowe writes, it was what every body expected, though + Miss Clary would not believe it till she smarted for her credulity. And, + for these reasons, I offer not to plead any thing in alleviation of her + fault, which is aggravated by her admirable sense, and a judgment above + her years. + </p> + <p> + I am, Madam, with compliments to good Mr. Harlowe, and all your afflicted + family, + </p> + <p> + Your most humble servant, ANNABELLA HOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I shall set out for the Isle of Wight in a few days, with my daughter. I + will hasten our setting out, on purpose to break her mind from her + friend's distresses; which afflict us as much, nearly, as Miss + Clary's rashness has done you. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XL + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SAT. JULY 22. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST FRIEND, + </p> + <p> + We are busy in preparing for our little journey and voyage: but I will be + ill, I will be very ill, if I cannot hear you are better before I go. + </p> + <p> + Rogers greatly afflicted me, by telling me the bad way you are in. But now + you have been able to hold a pen, and as your sense is strong and clear, I + hope that the amusement you will receive from writing will make you + better. + </p> + <p> + I dispatch this by an extraordinary way, that it may reach you time enough + to move you to consider well before you absolutely decide upon the + contents of mine of the 13th, on the subject of the two Misses Montague's + visit to me; since, according to what you write, must I answer them. + </p> + <p> + In your last, conclude very positively that you will not be his. To be + sure, he rather deserves an infamous death than such a wife. But as I + really believe him innocent of the arrest, and as all his family are such + earnest pleaders, and will be guarantees, for him, I think the compliance + with their entreaties, and his own, will be now the best step you can + take; your own family remaining implacable, as I can assure you they do. + He is a man of sense; and it is not impossible but he may make you a good + husband, and in time may become no bad man. + </p> + <p> + My mother is entirely of my opinion: and on Friday, pursuant to a hint I + gave you in my last, Mr. Hickman had a conference with the strange wretch: + and though he liked not, by any means, his behaviour to himself; nor + indeed, had reason to do so; yet he is of opinion that he is sincerely + determined to marry you, if you will condescend to have him. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Mr. Hickman may make you a private visit before we set out. If I + may not attend you myself, I shall not be easy except he does. And he will + then give you an account of the admirable character the surprising wretch + gave of you, and of the justice he does to your virtue. + </p> + <p> + He was as acknowledging to his relations, though to his own condemnation, + as his two cousins told me. All he apprehends, as he said to Mr. Hickman, + is that if you go on exposing him, wedlock itself will not wipe off the + dishonour to both: and moreover, 'that you would ruin your constitution by + your immoderate sorrow; and, by seeking death when you might avoid it, + would not be able to escape it when you would wish to do so.' + </p> + <p> + So, my dearest friend, I charge you, if you can, to get over your aversion + to this vile man. You may yet live to see many happy days, and be once + more the delight of all your friends, neighbours, and acquaintance, as + well as a stay, a comfort, and a blessing to your Anna Howe. + </p> + <p> + I long to have your answer to mine of the 13th. Pray keep the messenger + till it be ready. If he return on Monday night, it will be time enough for + his affairs, and to find me come back from Colonel Ambrose's; who gives a + ball on the anniversary of Mrs. Ambrose's birth and marriage both in one. + The gentry all round the neighbourhood are invited this time, on some good + news they have received from Mrs. Ambrose's brother, the governor. + </p> + <p> + My mother promised the Colonel for me and herself, in my absence. I would + fain have excused myself to her; and the rather, as I had exceptions on + account of the day:* but she is almost as young as her daughter; and + thinking it not so well to go without me, she told me. And having had a + few sparring blows with each other very lately, I think I must comply. For + I don't love jingling when I can help it; though I seldom make it my study + to avoid the occasion, when it offers of itself. I don't know, if either + were not a little afraid of the other, whether it would be possible that + we could live together:—I, all my father!—My mamma—What?—All + my mother—What else should I say? + </p> + <p> + * The 24th of July, Miss Clarissa Harlowe's birth-day. + </p> + <p> + O my dear, how many things happen in this life to give us displeasure! How + few to give us joy!—I am sure I shall have none on this occasion; + since the true partner of my heart, the principal of the one soul, that it + used to be said, animated the pair of friends, as we were called; you, my + dear, [who used to irradiate every circle you set your foot into, and to + give me real significance in a second place to yourself,] cannot be there!—One + hour of your company, my ever instructive friend, [I thirst for it!] how + infinitely preferable would it be to me to all the diversions and + amusements with which our sex are generally most delighted —Adieu, + my dear! + </p> + <p> + A. HOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY, JULY 23. + </p> + <p> + What pain, my dearest friend, does your kind solicitude for my welfare + give me! How much more binding and tender are the ties of pure friendship, + and the union of like minds, than the ties of nature! Well might the + sweet-singer of Israel, when he was carrying to the utmost extent the + praises of the friendship between him and his beloved friend, say, that + the love of Jonathan to him was wonderful; that it surpassed the love of + women! What an exalted idea does it give of the soul of Jonathan, sweetly + attempered for the sacred band, if we may suppose it but equal to that of + my Anna Howe for her fallen Clarissa?—But, although I can glory in + your kind love for me, think, my dear, what concern must fill a mind, not + ungenerous, when the obligation lies all on one side. And when, at the + same time that your light is the brighter for my darkness, I must give + pain to a dear friend, to whom I delighted to give pleasure; and not pain + only, but discredit, for supporting my blighted fame against the busy + tongues of uncharitable censures! + </p> + <p> + This is that makes me, in the words of my admired exclaimer, very little + altered, often repeat: 'Oh! that I were as in months past! as in the days + when God preserved me! when his candle shined upon my head, and when by + his light I walked through darkness! As I was in the days of my childhood—when + the Almighty was yet with me: when I was in my father's house: when I + washed my steps with butter, and the rock poured me out rivers of oil.' + </p> + <p> + You set before me your reasons, enforced by the opinion of your honoured + mother, why I should think of Mr. Lovelace for a husband.* + </p> + <p> + * See the preceding Letter. + </p> + <p> + And I have before me your letter of the 13th,* containing the account of + the visit and proposals, and kind interposition of the two Misses + Montague, in the names of the good Ladies Sadleir and Betty Lawrance, and + in that of my Lord M. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter IX. of this vol. + </p> + <p> + Also your's of the 18th,* demanding me, as I may say, of those ladies, and + of that family, when I was so infamously and cruelly arrested, and you + knew not what was become of me. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XI. ibid. + </p> + <p> + The answer likewise of those ladies, signed in so full and generous a + manner by themselves,* and by that nobleman, and those two venerable + ladies; and, in his light way, by the wretch himself. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XIV. ibid. + </p> + <p> + Thse, my dearest Miss Howe; and your letter of the 16th,* which came when + I was under arrest, and which I received not till some days after; are all + before me. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter X. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + And I have as well weighed the whole matter, and your arguments in support + of your advice, as at present my head and my heart will let me weigh them. + </p> + <p> + I am, moreover, willing to believe, not only from your own opinion, but + from the assurances of one of Mr. Lovelace's friends, Mr. Belford, a + good-natured and humane man, who spares not to censure the author of my + calamities (I think, with undissembled and undesigning sincerity) that + that man is innocent of the disgraceful arrest. + </p> + <p> + And even, if you please, in sincere compliment to your opinion, and to + that of Mr. Hickman, that (over-persuaded by his friends, and ashamed of + his unmerited baseness to me) he would in earnest marry me, if I would + have him. + </p> + <p> + '*Well, and now, what is the result of all?—It is this—that I + must abide by what I have already declared—and that is, [don't be + angry at me, my best friend,] that I have much more pleasure in thinking + of death, than of such a husband. In short, as I declared in my last, that + I cannot [forgive me, if I say, I will not] ever be his. + </p> + <p> + * Those parts of this letter which are marked with an inverted comma [thus + ' ] were afterwards transcribed by Miss Howe in Letter LV. written to the + Ladies of Mr. Lovelace's family; and are thus distinguished to avoid the + necessity of repeating them in that letter. + </p> + <p> + 'But you will expect my reasons; I know you will: and if I give them not, + will conclude me either obstinate, or implacable, or both: and those would + be sad imputations, if just, to be laid to the charge of a person who + thinks and talks of dying. And yet, to say that resentment and + disappointment have no part in my determination, would be saying a thing + hardly to be credited. For I own I have resentment, strong resentment, but + not unreasonable ones, as you will be convinced, if already you are not + so, when you know all my story—if ever you do know it—for I + begin to fear (so many things more necessary to be thought of than either + this man, or my own vindication, have I to do) that I shall not have time + to compass what I have intended, and, in a manner, promised you.* + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. VI. Letter LXXIII. + </p> + <p> + 'I have one reason to give in support of my resolution, that, I believe, + yourself will allow of: but having owned that I have resentments, I will + begin with those considerations in which anger and disappointment have too + great a share; in hopes that, having once disburdened my mind upon paper, + and to my Anna Howe, of those corroding uneasy passions, I shall prevent + them for ever from returning to my heart, and to have their place supplied + by better, milder, and more agreeable ones. + </p> + <p> + 'My pride, then, my dearest friend, although a great deal mortified, is + not sufficiently mortified, if it be necessary for me to submit to make + that man my choice, whose actions are, and ought to be, my abhorrence!— + What!—Shall I, who have been treated with such premeditated and + perfidious barbarity, as is painful to be thought of, and cannot, with + modesty be described, think of taking the violator to my heart? Can I vow + duty to one so wicked, and hazard my salvation by joining myself to so + great a profligate, now I know him to be so? Do you think your Clarissa + Harlowe so lost, so sunk, at least, as that she could, for the sake of + patching up, in the world's eye, a broken reputation, meanly appear + indebted to the generosity, or perhaps compassion, of a man, who has, by + means so inhuman, robbed her of it? Indeed, my dear, I should not think my + penitence for the rash step I took, any thing better than a specious + delusion, if I had not got above the least wish to have Mr. Lovelace for + my husband. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, I warrant, I must creep to the violator, and be thankful to him for + doing me poor justice! + </p> + <p> + 'Do you not already see me (pursuing the advice you give) with a downcast + eye, appear before his friends, and before my own, (supposing the latter + would at last condescend to own me,) divested of that noble confidence + which arises from a mind unconscious of having deserved reproach? + </p> + <p> + 'Do you not see me creep about mine own house, preferring all my honest + maidens to myself—as if afraid, too, to open my lips, either by way + of reproof or admonition, lest their bolder eyes should bid me look + inward, and not expect perfection from them? + </p> + <p> + 'And shall I entitle the wretch to upbraid me with his generosity, and his + pity; and perhaps to reproach me for having been capable of forgiving + crimes of such a nature? + </p> + <p> + 'I once indeed hoped, little thinking him so premeditatedly vile a man, + that I might have the happiness to reclaim him: I vainly believed that he + loved me well enough to suffer my advice for his good, and the example I + humbly presumed I should be enabled to set him, to have weight with him; + and the rather, as he had no mean opinion of my morals and understanding: + But now what hope is there left for this my prime hope?—Were I to + marry him, what a figure should I make, preaching virtue and morality to a + man whom I had trusted with opportunities to seduce me from all my own + duties!—And then, supposing I were to have children by such a + husband, must it not, think you, cut a thoughtful person to the heart; to + look round upon her little family, and think she had given them a father + destined, without a miracle, to perdition; and whose immoralities, + propagated among them by his vile example, might, too probably, bring down + a curse upon them? And, after all, who knows but that my own sinful + compliances with a man, who might think himself entitled to my obedience, + might taint my own morals, and make me, instead of a reformer, an imitator + of him?—For who can touch pitch, and not be defiled? + </p> + <p> + 'Let me then repeat, that I truly despise this man! If I know my own + heart, indeed I do!—I pity him! beneath my very pity as he is, I + nevertheless pity him!—But this I could not do, if I still loved + him: for, my dear, one must be greatly sensible of the baseness and + ingratitude of those we love. I love him not, therefore! my soul disdains + communion with him. + </p> + <p> + 'But, although thus much is due to resentment, yet have I not been so far + carried away by its angry effects as to be rendered incapable of casting + about what I ought to do, and what could be done, if the Almighty, in + order to lengthen the time of my penitence, were to bid me to live. + </p> + <p> + 'The single life, at such times, has offered to me, as the life, the only + life, to be chosen. But in that, must I not now sit brooding over my past + afflictions, and mourning my faults till the hour of my release? And would + not every one be able to assign the reason why Clarissa Harlowe chose + solitude, and to sequester herself from the world? Would not the look of + every creature, who beheld me, appear as a reproach to me? And would not + my conscious eye confess my fault, whether the eyes of others accused me + or not? One of my delights was, to enter the cots of my poor neighbours, + to leave lessons to the boys, and cautions to the elder girls: and how + should I be able, unconscious, and without pain, to say to the latter, fly + the delusions of men, who had been supposed to have run away with one? + </p> + <p> + 'What then, my dear and only friend, can I wish for but death?—And + what, after all, is death? 'Tis but a cessation from mortal life: 'tis but + the finishing of an appointed course: the refreshing inn after a fatiguing + journey; the end of a life of cares and troubles; and, if happy, the + beginning of a life of immortal happiness. + </p> + <p> + 'If I die not now, it may possibly happen that I may be taken when I am + less prepared. Had I escaped the evils I labour under, it might have been + in the midst of some gay promising hope; when my heart had beat high with + the desire of life; and when the vanity of this earth had taken hold of + me. + </p> + <p> + 'But now, my dear, for your satisfaction let me say that, although I wish + not for life, yet would I not, like a poor coward, desert my post when I + can maintain it, and when it is my duty to maintain it. + </p> + <p> + 'More than once, indeed, was I urged by thoughts so sinful: but then it + was in the height of my distress: and once, particularly, I have reason to + believe, I saved myself by my desperation from the most shocking personal + insults; from a repetition, as far as I know, of his vileness; the base + women (with so much reason dreaded by me) present, to intimidate me, if + not to assist him!—O my dear, you know not what I suffered on that + occasion!—Nor do I what I escaped at the time, if the wicked man had + approached me to execute the horrid purposes of his vile heart.' + </p> + <p> + As I am of opinion, that it would have manifested more of revenge and + despair than of principle, had I committed a violence upon myself, when + the villany was perpetrated; so I should think it equally criminal, were I + now wilfully to neglect myself; were I purposely to run into the arms of + death, (as that man supposes I shall do,) when I might avoid it. + </p> + <p> + Nor, my dear, whatever are the suppositions of such a short-sighted, such + a low-souled man, must you impute to gloom, to melancholy, to despondency, + nor yet to a spirit of faulty pride, or still more faulty revenge, the + resolution I have taken never to marry this: and if not this, any man. So + far from deserving this imputation, I do assure you, (my dear and only + love,) that I will do every thing I can to prolong my life, till God, in + mercy to me, shall be pleased to call for it. I have reason to think my + punishment is but the due consequence of my fault, and I will not run away + from it; but beg of Heaven to sanctify it to me. When appetite serves, I + will eat and drink what is sufficient to support nature. A very little, + you know, will do for that. And whatever my physicians shall think fit to + prescribe, I will take, though ever so disagreeable. In short, I will do + every thing I can do to convince all my friends, who hereafter may think + it worth their while to inquire after my last behaviour, that I possessed + my soul with tolerable patience; and endeavoured to bear with a lot of my + own drawing; for thus, in humble imitation of the sublimest exemplar, I + often say:—Lord, it is thy will; and it shall be mine. Thou art just + in all thy dealings with the children of men; and I know thou wilt not + afflict me beyond what I can bear: and, if I can bear it, I ought to bear + it; and (thy grace assisting me) I will bear it. + </p> + <p> + 'But here, my dear, is another reason; a reason that will convince you + yourself that I ought not to think of wedlock; but of a preparation for a + quite different event. I am persuaded, as much as that I am now alive, + that I shall not long live. The strong sense I have ever had of my fault, + the loss of my reputation, my disappointments, the determined resentment + of my friends, aiding the barbarous usage I have met with where I least + deserved it, have seized upon my heart: seized upon it, before it was so + well fortified by religious considerations as I hope it now is. Don't be + concerned, my dear—But I am sure, if I may say it with as little + presumption as grief, That God will soon dissolve my substance; and bring + me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.' + </p> + <p> + And now, my dearest friend, you know all my mind. And you will be pleased + to write to the ladies of Mr. Lovelace's family, that I think myself + infinitely obliged to them for their good opinion of me; and that it has + given me greater pleasure than I thought I had to come in this life, that, + upon the little knowledge they have of me, and that not personal, I was + thought worthy (after the ill usage I have received) of an alliance with + their honourable family: but that I can by no means think of their kinsman + for a husband: and do you, my dear, extract from the above such reasons as + you think have any weight with them. + </p> + <p> + I would write myself to acknowledge their favour, had I not more employment + for my head, my heart, and my fingers, than I doubt they will be able to + go through. + </p> + <p> + I should be glad to know when you set out on your journey; as also your + little stages; and your time of stay at your aunt Harman's; that my + prayers may locally attend you whithersoever you go, and wherever you are. + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY, JULY 23. + </p> + <p> + The letter accompanying this being upon a very particular subject, I would + not embarrass it, as I may say, with any other. And yet having some + farther matters upon my mind, which will want your excuse for directing + them to you, I hope the following lines will have that excuse. + </p> + <p> + My good Mrs. Norton, so long ago as in a letter dated the 3d of this + month,* hinted to me that my relations took amiss some severe things you + were pleased, in love to me, to say to them. Mrs. Norton mentioned it with + that respectful love which she bears to my dearest friend: but wished, for + my sake, that you would rein in a vivacity, which, on most other + occasions, so charmingly becomes you. This was her sense. You know that I + am warranted to speak and write freer to my Anna Howe than Mrs. Norton + would do. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. VI. Letter LXIII. + </p> + <p> + I durst not mention it to you at that time, because appearances were so + strong against me, on Mr. Lovelace's getting me again into his power, + (after my escape to Hampstead,) as made you very angry with me when you + answered mine on my second escape. And, soon afterwards, I was put under + that barbarous arrest; so that I could not well touch upon the subject + till now. + </p> + <p> + Now, therefore, my dearest Miss Howe, let me repeat my earnest request + (for this is not the first time by several that I have been obliged to + chide you on this occasion,) that you will spare my parents, and other + relations, in all your conversations about me. Indeed, I wish they had + thought fit to take other measures with me: But who shall judge for them? + —The event has justified them, and condemned me.—They expected + nothing good of this vile man; he had not, therefore, deceived them: but + they expected other things from me; and I have. And they have the more + reason to be set against me, if (as my aunt Hervey wrote* formerly,) they + intended not to force my inclinations in favour of Mr. Solmes; and if they + believe that my going off was the effect of choice and premeditation. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. III. Letter LII. + </p> + <p> + I have no desire to be received to favour by them: For why should I sit + down to wish for what I have no reason to expect?—Besides, I could + not look them in the face, if they would receive me. Indeed I could not. + All I have to hope for is, first, that my father will absolve me from his + heavy malediction: and next, for a last blessing. The obtaining of these + favours are needful to my peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + I have written to my sister; but have only mentioned the absolution. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid I shall receive a very harsh answer from her: my fault, in the + eyes of my family, is of so enormous a nature, that my first application + will hardly be encouraged. Then they know not (nor perhaps will believe) + that I am so very ill as I am. So that, were I actually to die before they + could have time to take the necessary informations, you must not blame + them too severely. You must call it a fatality. I know not what you must + call it: for, alas! I have made them as miserable as I am myself. And yet + sometimes I think that, were they cheerfully to pronounce me forgiven, I + know not whether my concern for having offended them would not be + augmented: since I imagine that nothing can be more wounding to a spirit + not ungenerous than a generous forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + I hope your mother will permit our correspondence for one month more, + although I do not take her advice as to having this man. When catastrophes + are winding up, what changes (changes that make one's heart shudder to + think of,) may one short month produce?—But if she will not— + why then, my dear, it becomes us both to acquiesce. + </p> + <p> + You can't think what my apprehensions would have been, had I known Mr. + Hickman was to have had a meeting (on such a questioning occasion as must + have been his errand from you) with that haughty and uncontroulable man. + </p> + <p> + You give me hope of a visit from Mr. Hickman: let him expect to see me + greatly altered. I know he loves me: for he loves every one whom you love. + A painful interview, I doubt! But I shall be glad to see a man whom you + will one day, and that on an early day, I hope, make happy; whose gentle + manners, and unbounded love for you, will make you so, if it be not your + own fault. + </p> + <p> + I am, my dearest, kindest friend, the sweet companion of my happy hours, + the friend ever dearest and nearest to my fond heart, + </p> + <p> + Your equally obliged and faithful, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIII + </h2> + <p> + MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE MONDAY, JULY 24. + </p> + <p> + Excuse, my dearest young lady, my long silence. I have been extremely ill. + My poor boy has also been at death's door; and, when I hoped that he was + better, he has relapsed. Alas! my dear, he is very dangerously ill. Let us + both have your prayers! + </p> + <p> + Very angry letters have passed between your sister and Miss Howe. Every + one of your family is incensed against that young lady. I wish you would + remonstrate against her warmth; since it can do no good; for they will not + believe but that her interposition had your connivance; nor that you are + so ill as Miss Howe assures them you are. + </p> + <p> + Before she wrote, they were going to send up young Mr. Brand, the + clergyman, to make private inquiries of your health, and way of life.— + But now they are so exasperated that they have laid aside their intention. + </p> + <p> + We have flying reports here, and at Harlowe-place, of some fresh insults + which you have undergone: and that you are about to put yourself into Lady + Betty Lawrance's protection. I believe they would not be glad (as I should + be) that you would do so; and this, perhaps, will make them suspend, for + the present, any determination in your favour. + </p> + <p> + How unhappy am I, that the dangerous way my son is in prevents my + attendance on you! Let me beg of you to write to me word how you are, both + as to person and mind. A servant of Sir Robert Beachcroft, who rides post + on his master's business to town, will present you with this; and, + perhaps, will bring me the favour of a few lines in return. He will be + obliged to stay in town several hours for an answer to his dispatches. + </p> + <p> + This is the anniversary that used to give joy to as many as had the + pleasure and honour of knowing you. May the Almighty bless you, and grant + that it may be the only unhappy one that may ever be known by you, my + dearest young lady, and by + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate JUDITH NORTON. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON MONDAY NIGHT, JULY 24. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MRS. NORTON, + </p> + <p> + Had I not fallen into fresh troubles, which disabled me for several days + from holding a pen, I should not have forborne inquiring after your + health, and that of your son; for I should have been but too ready to + impute your silence to the cause to which, to my very great concern, I + find it was owing. I pray to Heaven, my dear good friend, to give you + comfort in the way most desirable to yourself. + </p> + <p> + I am exceedingly concerned at Miss Howe's writing about me to my friends. + I do assure you, that I was as ignorant of her intention so to do as of + the contents of her letter. Nor has she yet let me know (discouraged, I + suppose, by her ill success) that she did write. It is impossible to share + the delight which such charming spirits give, without the inconvenience + that will attend their volatility.—So mixed are our best enjoyments! + </p> + <p> + It was but yesterday that I wrote to chide the dear creature for freedoms + of that nature, which her unseasonably-expressed love for me had made her + take, as you wrote me word in your former. I was afraid that all such + freedoms would be attributed to me. And I am sure that nothing but my own + application to my friends, and a full conviction of my contrition, will + procure me favour. Least of all can I expect that either your mediation or + her's (both of whose fond and partial love of me is so well known) will + avail me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[She then gives a brief account of the arrest: of her dejection under it: + of her apprehensions of being carried to her former lodgings: of + Mr. Lovelace's avowed innocence as to that insult: of her release + by Mr. Belford: of Mr. Lovelace's promise not to molest her: of her + clothes being sent her: of the earnest desire of all his friends, + and of himself, to marry her: of Miss Howe's advice to comply with + their requests: and of her declared resolution rather to die than + be his, sent to Miss Howe, to be given to his relations, but as the + day before. After which she thus proceeds:] +</pre> + <p> + Now, my dear Mrs. Norton, you will be surprised, perhaps, that I should + have returned such an answer: but when you have every thing before you, + you, who know me so well, will not think me wrong. And, besides, I am upon + a better preparation than for an earthly husband. + </p> + <p> + Nor let it be imagined, my dear and ever venerable friend, that my present + turn of mind proceeds from gloominess or melancholy; for although it was + brought on by disappointment, (the world showing me early, even at my + first rushing into it, its true and ugly face,) yet I hope that it has + obtained a better root, and will every day more and more, by its fruits, + demonstrate to me, and to all my friends, that it has. + </p> + <p> + I have written to my sister. Last Friday I wrote. So the die is thrown. I + hope for a gentle answer. But, perhaps, they will not vouchsafe me any. It + is my first direct application, you know. I wish Miss Howe had left me to + my own workings in this tender point. + </p> + <p> + It will be a great satisfaction to me to hear of your perfect recovery; + and that my foster-brother is out of danger. But why, said I, out of + danger?—When can this be justly said of creatures, who hold by so + uncertain a tenure? This is one of those forms of common speech, that + proves the frailty and the presumption of poor mortals at the same time. + </p> + <p> + Don't be uneasy, you cannot answer your wishes to be with me. I am happier + than I could have expected to be among mere strangers. It was grievous at + first; but use reconciles every thing to us. The people of the house where + I am are courteous and honest. There is a widow who lodges in it [have I + not said so formerly?] a good woman; who is the better for having been a + proficient in the school of affliction. + </p> + <p> + An excellent school! my dear Mrs. Norton, in which we are taught to know + ourselves, to be able to compassionate and bear with one another, and to + look up to a better hope. + </p> + <p> + I have as humane a physician, (whose fees are his least regard,) and as + worthy an apothecary, as ever patient was visited by. My nurse is + diligent, obliging, silent, and sober. So I am not unhappy without: and + within—I hope, my dear Mrs. Norton, that I shall be every day more + and more happy within. + </p> + <p> + No doubt it would be one of the greatest comforts I could know to have you + with me: you, who love me so dearly: who have been the watchful sustainer + of my helpless infancy: you, by whose precepts I have been so much + benefited!—In your dear bosom could I repose all my griefs: and by + your piety and experience in the ways of Heaven, should I be strengthened + in what I am still to go through. + </p> + <p> + But, as it must not be, I will acquiesce; and so, I hope, will you: for + you see in what respects I am not unhappy; and in those that I am, they + lie not in your power to remedy. + </p> + <p> + Then as I have told you, I have all my clothes in my own possession. So I + am rich enough, as to this world, in common conveniencies. + </p> + <p> + You see, my venerable and dear friend, that I am not always turning the + dark side of my prospects, in order to move compassion; a trick imputed to + me, too often, by my hard-hearted sister; when, if I know my own heart, it + is above all trick or artifice. Yet I hope at last I shall be so happy as + to receive benefit rather than reproach from this talent, if it be my + talent. At last, I say; for whose heart have I hitherto moved? —Not + one, I am sure, that was not predetermined in my favour. + </p> + <p> + As to the day—I have passed it, as I ought to pass it. It has been a + very heavy day to me!—More for my friends sake, too, than for my + own!— How did they use to pass it!—What a festivity!—How + have they now passed it?—To imagine it, how grievous!—Say not + that those are cruel, who suffer so much for my fault; and who, for + eighteen years together, rejoiced in me, and rejoiced me by their + indulgent goodness!—But I will think the rest!—Adieu, my + dearest Mrs. Norton!— + </p> + <p> + Adieu! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE FRIDAY, JULY 21. + </p> + <p> + If, my dearest Sister, I did not think the state of my health very + precarious, and that it was my duty to take this step, I should hardly + have dared to approach you, although but with my pen, after having found + your censures so dreadfully justified as they have been. + </p> + <p> + I have not the courage to write to my father himself, nor yet to my + mother. And it is with trembling that I address myself to you, to beg of + you to intercede for me, that my father will have the goodness to revoke + that heaviest part of the very heavy curse he laid upon me, which relates + to HEREAFTER; for, as to the HERE, I have indeed met with my punishment + from the very wretch in whom I was supposed to place my confidence. + </p> + <p> + As I hope not for restoration to favour, I may be allowed to be very + earnest on this head: yet will I not use any arguments in support of my + request, because I am sure my father, were it in his power, would not have + his poor child miserable for ever. + </p> + <p> + I have the most grateful sense of my mother's goodness in sending me up my + clothes. I would have acknowledged the favour the moment I received them, + with the most thankful duty, but that I feared any line from me would be + unacceptable. + </p> + <p> + I would not give fresh offence: so will decline all other commendations of + duty and love: appealing to my heart for both, where both are flaming with + an ardour that nothing but death can extinguish: therefore only subscribe + myself, without so much as a name, + </p> + <p> + My dear and happy Sister, Your afflicted servant. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +A letter directed for me, at Mr. Smith's, a glover, in King-street, + Covent-garden, will come to hand. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. [IN ANSWER TO LETTERS XXIX. XXXII. + OF THIS VOLUME.] EDGWARE, MONDAY, JULY 24. + </p> + <p> + What pains thou takest to persuade thyself, that the lady's ill health is + owing to the vile arrest, and to the implacableness of her friends. Both + primarily (if they were) to be laid at thy door. What poor excuses will + good hearts make for the evils they are put upon by bad hearts!—But + 'tis no wonder that he who can sit down premeditatedly to do a bad action, + will content himself with a bad excuse: and yet what fools must he suppose + the rest of the world to be, if he imagines them as easy to be imposed + upon as he can impose upon himself? + </p> + <p> + In vain dost thou impute to pride or wilfulness the necessity to which + thou hast reduced this lady of parting with her clothes; For can she do + otherwise, and be the noble-minded creature she is? + </p> + <p> + Her implacable friends have refused her the current cash she left behind + her; and wished, as her sister wrote to her, to see her reduced to want: + probably therefore they will not be sorry that she is reduced to such + straights; and will take it for a justification from Heaven of their + wicked hard heartedness. Thou canst not suppose she would take supplies + from thee: to take them from me would, in her opinion, be taking them from + thee. Miss Howe's mother is an avaricious woman; and, perhaps, the + daughter can do nothing of that sort unknown to her; and, if she could, is + too noble a girl to deny it, if charged. And then Miss Harlowe is firmly + of opinion, that she shall never want nor wear the thing she disposes of. + </p> + <p> + Having heard nothing from town that obliges me to go thither, I shall + gratify poor Belton with my company till to-morrow, or perhaps till + Wednesday. For the unhappy man is more and more loth to part with me. I + shall soon set out for Epsom, to endeavour to serve him there, and + re-instate him in his own house. Poor fellow! he is most horribly low + spirited; mopes about; and nothing diverts him. I pity him at my heart; + but can do him no good.—What consolation can I give him, either from + his past life, or from his future prospects? + </p> + <p> + Our friendships and intimacies, Lovelace, are only calculated for strong + life and health. When sickness comes, we look round us, and upon one + another, like frighted birds, at the sight of a kite ready to souse upon + them. Then, with all our bravery, what miserable wretches are we! + </p> + <p> + Thou tellest me that thou seest reformation is coming swiftly upon me. I + hope it is. I see so much difference in the behaviour of this admirable + woman in her illness, and that of poor Belton in his, that it is plain to + me the sinner is the real coward, and the saint the true hero; and, sooner + or later, we shall all find it to be so, if we are not cut off suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The lady shut herself up at six o'clock yesterday afternoon; and intends + not to see company till seven or eight this; not even her nurse—imposing + upon herself a severe fast. And why? It is her BIRTH-DAY!—Every + birth-day till this, no doubt, happy!—What must be her reflections!— + What ought to be thine! + </p> + <p> + What sport dost thou make with my aspirations, and my prostrations, as + thou callest them; and with my dropping of the banknote behind her chair! + I had too much awe of her at the time, to make it with the grace that + would better have become my intention. But the action, if awkward, was + modest. Indeed, the fitter subject for ridicule with thee; who canst no + more taste the beauty and delicacy of modest obligingness than of modest + love. For the same may be said of inviolable respect, that the poet says + of unfeigned affection, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I speak! I know not what!— + Speak ever so: and if I answer you + I know not what, it shows the more of love. + Love is a child that talks in broken language; + Yet then it speaks most plain. +</pre> + <p> + The like may be pleaded in behalf of that modest respect which made the + humble offerer afraid to invade the awful eye, or the revered hand; but + awkwardly to drop its incense behind the altar it should have been laid + upon. But how should that soul, which could treat delicacy itself + brutally, know any thing of this! + </p> + <p> + But I am still more amazed at thy courage, to think of throwing thyself in + the way of Miss Howe, and Miss Arabella Harlowe!—Thou wilt not dare, + surely, to carry this thought into execution! + </p> + <p> + As to my dress, and thy dress, I have only to say, that the sum total of + thy observation is this: that my outside is the worst of me; and thine the + best of thee: and what gettest thou by the comparison? Do thou reform the + one, I'll try to mend the other. I challenge thee to begin. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick gave me, at my request, the copy of a meditation she showed + me, which was extracted by the lady from the scriptures, while under + arrest at Rowland's, as appears by the date. The lady is not to know that + I have taken a copy. + </p> + <p> + You and I always admired the noble simplicity, and natural ease and + dignity of style, which are the distinguishing characteristics of these + books, whenever any passages from them, by way of quotation in the works + of other authors, popt upon us. And once I remember you, even you, + observed, that those passages always appeared to you like a rich vein of + golden ore, which runs through baser metals; embellishing the work they + were brought to authenticate. + </p> + <p> + Try, Lovelace, if thou canst relish a Divine beauty. I think it must + strike transient (if not permanent) remorse into thy heart. Thou boastest + of thy ingenuousness: let this be the test of it; and whether thou canst + be serious on a subject too deep, the occasion of it resulting from + thyself. + </p> + <p> + MEDITATION Saturday, July 15. + </p> + <p> + O that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the + balance together! + </p> + <p> + For now it would be heavier than the sand of the sea: therefore my words + are swallowed up! + </p> + <p> + For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; the poison whereof drinketh + up my spirit. The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me. + </p> + <p> + When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise? When will the night be gone? + And I am full of tossings to and fro, unto the dawning of the day. + </p> + <p> + My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope— + mine eye shall no more see good. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore is light given to her that is in misery; and life unto the + bitter in soul? + </p> + <p> + Who longeth for death; but it cometh not; and diggeth for it more than for + hid treasures? + </p> + <p> + Why is light given to one whose way is hid; and whom God hath hedged in? + </p> + <p> + For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me! + </p> + <p> + I was not in safety; neither had I rest; neither was I quiet; yet trouble + came. + </p> + <p> + But behold God is mighty, and despiseth not any. + </p> + <p> + He giveth right to the poor—and if they be found in fetters, and + holden in cords of affliction, then he showeth them their works and their + transgressions. + </p> + <p> + I have a little leisure, and am in a scribbing vein: indulge me, Lovelace, + a few reflections on these sacred books. + </p> + <p> + We are taught to read the Bible, when children, as a rudiment only; and, + as far as I know, this may be the reason why we think ourselves above it + when at a maturer age. For you know that our parents, as well as we, + wisely rate our proficiency by the books we are advanced to, and not by + our understanding of those we have passed through. But, in my uncle's + illness, I had the curiosity, in some of my dull hours, (lighting upon one + in his closet,) to dip into it: and then I found, wherever I turned, that + there were admirable things in it. I have borrowed one, on receiving from + Mrs. Lovick the above meditation; for I had a mind to compare the passages + contained in it by the book, hardly believing they could be so exceedingly + apposite as I find they are. And one time or another, it is very likely, + that I shall make a resolution to give the whole Bible a perusal, by way + of course, as I may say. + </p> + <p> + This, meantime, I will venture to repeat, is certain, that the style is + that truly easy, simple, and natural one, which we should admire in each + other authors excessively. Then all the world join in an opinion of the + antiquity, and authenticity too, of the book; and the learned are fond of + strengthening their different arguments by its sanctions. Indeed, I was so + much taken with it at my uncle's, that I was half ashamed that it appeared + so new to me. And yet, I cannot but say, that I have some of the Old + Testament history, as it is called, in my head: but, perhaps, am more + obliged for it to Josephus than to the Bible itself. + </p> + <p> + Odd enough, with all our pride of learning, that we choose to derive the + little we know from the under currents, perhaps muddy ones too, when the + clear, the pellucid fountain-head, is much nearer at hand, and easier to + be come at—slighted the more, possibly, for that very reason! + </p> + <p> + But man is a pragmatical, foolish creature; and the more we look into him, + the more we must despise him—Lords of the creation!—Who can + forbear indignant laughter! When we see not one of the individuals of that + creation (his perpetually-eccentric self excepted) but acts within its own + natural and original appointment: is of fancied and self-dependent + excellence, he is obliged not only for the ornaments, but for the + necessaries of life, (that is to say, for food as well as raiment,) to all + the other creatures; strutting with their blood and spirits in his veins, + and with their plumage on his back: for what has he of his own, but a very + mischievous, monkey-like, bad nature! Yet thinks himself at liberty to + kick, and cuff, and elbow out every worthier creature: and when he has + none of the animal creation to hunt down and abuse, will make use of his + power, his strength, or his wealth, to oppress the less powerful and + weaker of his own species! + </p> + <p> + When you and I meet next, let us enter more largely into this subject: + and, I dare say, we shall take it by turns, in imitation of the two sages + of antiquity, to laugh and to weep at the thoughts of what miserable, yet + conceited beings, men in general, but we libertines in particular, are. + </p> + <p> + I fell upon a piece at Dorrell's, this very evening, intituled, The Sacred + Classics, written by one Blackwell. + </p> + <p> + I took it home with me, and had not read a dozen pages, when I was + convinced that I ought to be ashamed of myself to think how greatly I have + admired less noble and less natural beauties in Pagan authors; while I + have known nothing of this all-exciting collection of beauties, the Bible! + By my faith, Lovelace, I shall for the future have a better opinion of the + good sense and taste of half a score of parsons, whom I have fallen in + with in my time, and despised for magnifying, as I thought they did, the + language and the sentiments to be found in it, in preference to all the + ancient poets and philosophers. And this is now a convincing proof to me, + and shames as much an infidel's presumption as his ignorance, that those + who know least are the greatest scoffers. A pretty pack of would-be wits + of us, who censure without knowledge, laugh without reason, and are most + noisy and loud against things we know least of! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDNESDAY, JULY 26. + </p> + <p> + I came not to town till this morning early: poor Belton clinging to me, as + a man destitute of all other hold. + </p> + <p> + I hastened to Smith's, and had but a very indifferent account of the + lady's health. I sent up my compliments; and she desired to see me in the + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick told me, that after I went away on Saturday, she actually + parted with one of her best suits of clothes to a gentlewoman who is her + [Mrs. Lovick's] benefactress, and who bought them for a niece who is very + speedily to be married, and whom she fits out and portions as her intended + heiress. The lady was so jealous that the money might come from you or me, + that she would see the purchaser: who owned to Mrs. Lovick that she bought + them for half their worth: but yet, though her conscience permitted her to + take them at such an under rate, the widow says her friend admired the + lady, as one of the loveliest of her sex: and having been let into a + little of her story, could not help shedding tears at taking away her + purchase. + </p> + <p> + She may be a good sort of woman: Mrs. Lovick says she is: but SELF is an + odious devil, that reconciles to some people the most cruel and dishonest + actions. But, nevertheless, it is my opinion, that those who can suffer + themselves to take advantage of the necessities of their fellow-creatures, + in order to buy any thing at a less rate than would allow them the legal + interest of their purchase-money (supposing they purchase before they + want) are no better than robbers for the difference. —To plunder a + wreck, and to rob at a fire, are indeed higher degrees of wickedness: but + do not those, as well as these, heighten the distresses of the distressed, + and heap misery on the miserable, whom it is the duty of every one to + relieve? + </p> + <p> + About three o'clock I went again to Smith's. The lady was writing when I + sent up my name; but admitted of my visit. I saw a miserable alteration in + her countenance for the worse; and Mrs. Lovick respectfully accusing her + of too great assiduity to her pen, early and late, and of her abstinence + the day before, I took notice of the alteration; and told her, that her + physician had greater hopes of her than she had of herself; and I would + take the liberty to say, that despair of recovery allowed not room for + cure. + </p> + <p> + She said she neither despaired nor hoped. Then stepping to the glass, with + great composure, My countenance, said she, is indeed an honest picture of + my heart. But the mind will run away with the body at any time. + </p> + <p> + Writing is all my diversion, continued she: and I have subjects that + cannot be dispensed with. As to my hours, I have always been an early + riser: but now rest is less in my power than ever. Sleep has a long time + ago quarreled with me, and will not be friends, although I have made the + first advances. What will be, must. + </p> + <p> + She then stept to her closet, and brought me a parcel sealed up with three + seals: Be so kind, said she, as to give this to your friend. A very + grateful present it ought to be to him: for, Sir, this packet contains + such letters of his to me, as, compared with his actions, would reflect + dishonour upon all his sex, were they to fall into other hands. + </p> + <p> + As to my letters to him, they are not many. He may either keep or destroy + them, as he pleases. + </p> + <p> + I thought, Lovelace, I ought not to forego this opportunity to plead for + you: I therefore, with the packet in my hand, urged all the arguments I + could think of in your favour. + </p> + <p> + She heard me out with more attention than I could have promised myself, + considering her determined resolution. + </p> + <p> + I would not interrupt you, Mr. Belford, said she, though I am far from + being pleased with the subject of your discourse. The motives for your + pleas in his favour are generous. I love to see instances of generous + friendship in either sex. But I have written my full mind on this subject + to Miss Howe, who will communicate it to the ladies of his family. No + more, therefore, I pray you, upon a topic that may lead to disagreeable + recrimination. + </p> + <p> + Her apothecary came in. He advised her to the air, and blamed her for so + great an application, as he was told she made to her pen; and he gave it + as the doctor's opinion, as well as his own, that she would recover, if + she herself desired to recover, and would use the means. + </p> + <p> + She may possibly write too much for her health: but I have observed, on + several occasions, that when the medical men are at a loss what to + prescribe, they inquire what their patients like best, or are most + diverted with, and forbid them that. + </p> + <p> + But, noble minded as they see this lady is, they know not half her + nobleness of mind, nor how deeply she is wounded; and depend too much upon + her youth, which I doubt will not do in this case; and upon time, which + will not alleviate the woes of such a mind: for, having been bent upon + doing good, and upon reclaiming a libertine whom she loved, she is + disappointed in all her darling views, and will never be able, I fear, to + look up with satisfaction enough in herself to make life desirable to her. + For this lady had other views in living, than the common ones of eating, + sleeping, dressing, visiting, and those other fashionable amusements, + which fill up the time of most of her sex, especially of those of it who + think themselves fitted to shine in and adorn polite assemblies. Her + grief, in short, seems to me to be of such a nature, that time, which + alleviates most other person's afflictions, will, as the poet says, give + increase to her's. + </p> + <p> + Thou, Lovelace, mightest have seen all this superior excellence, as thou + wentest along. In every word, in every sentiment, in every action, is it + visible.—But thy cursed inventions and intriguing spirit ran away + with thee. 'Tis fit that the subject of thy wicked boast, and thy + reflections on talents so egregiously misapplied, should be thy punishment + and thy curse. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goddard took his leave; and I was going to do so too, when the maid + came up, and told her a gentleman was below, who very earnestly inquired + after her health, and desired to see her: his name Hickman. + </p> + <p> + She was overjoyed; and bid the maid desire the gentleman to walk up. + </p> + <p> + I would have withdrawn; but I supposed she thought it was likely I should + have met him upon the stairs; and so she forbid it. + </p> + <p> + She shot to the stairs-head to receive him, and, taking his hand, asked + half a dozen questions (without waiting for any answer) in relation to + Miss Howe's health; acknowledging, in high terms, her goodness in sending + him to see her, before she set out upon her little journey. + </p> + <p> + He gave her a letter from that young lady, which she put into her bosom, + saying, she would read it by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + He was visibly shocked to see how ill she looked. + </p> + <p> + You look at me with concern, Mr. Hickman, said she—O Sir! times are + strangely altered with me since I saw you last at my dear Miss Howe's!— + What a cheerful creature was I then!—my heart at rest! my prospects + charming! and beloved by every body!—but I will not pain you! + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Madam, said he, I am grieved for you at my soul. + </p> + <p> + He turned away his face, with visible grief in it. + </p> + <p> + Her own eyes glistened: but she turned to each of us, presenting one to + the other—him to me, as a gentleman truly deserving to be called so—me + to him, as your friend, indeed, [how was I at that instant ashamed of + myself!] but, nevertheless, as a man of humanity; detesting my friend's + baseness; and desirous of doing her all manner of good offices. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman received my civilities with a coldness, which, however, was + rather to be expected on your account, than that it deserved exception on + mine. And the lady invited us both to breakfast with her in the morning; + he being obliged to return the next day. + </p> + <p> + I left them together, and called upon Mr. Dorrell, my attorney, to consult + him upon poor Belton's affairs; and then went home, and wrote thus far, + preparative to what may occur in my breakfasting-visit in the morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY, JULY 27. + </p> + <p> + I went this morning, according to the lady's invitation, to breakfast, and + found Mr. Hickman with her. + </p> + <p> + A good deal of heaviness and concern hung upon his countenance: but he + received me with more respect than he did yesterday; which, I presume, was + owing to the lady's favourable character of me. + </p> + <p> + He spoke very little; for I suppose they had all their talk out yesterday, + and before I came this morning. + </p> + <p> + By the hints that dropped, I perceived that Miss Howe's letter gave an + account of your interview with her at Col. Ambrose's—of your + professions to Miss Howe; and Miss Howe's opinion, that marrying you was + the only way now left to repair her wrongs. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman, as I also gathered, had pressed her, in Miss Howe's name, to + let her, on her return from the Isle of Wight, find her at a neighbouring + farm-house, where neat apartments would be made ready to receive her. She + asked how long it would be before they returned? And he told her, it was + proposed to be no more than a fortnight out and in. Upon which she said, + she should then perhaps have time to consider of that kind proposal. + </p> + <p> + He had tendered her money from Miss Howe; but could not induce her to take + any. No wonder I was refused! she only said, that, if she had occasion, + she would be obliged to nobody but Miss Howe. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goddard, her apothecary, came in before breakfast was over. At her + desire he sat down with us. Mr. Hickman asked him, if he could give him + any consolation in relation to Miss Harlowe's recovery, to carry down to a + friend who loved her as she loved her own life? + </p> + <p> + The lady, said he, will do very well, if she will resolve upon it herself. + Indeed you will, Madam. The doctor is entirely of this opinion; and has + ordered nothing for you but weak jellies and innocent cordials, lest you + should starve yourself. And let me tell you, Madam, that so much watching, + so little nourishment, and so much grief, as you seem to indulge, is + enough to impair the most vigorous health, and to wear out the strongest + constitution. + </p> + <p> + What, Sir, said she, can I do? I have no appetite. Nothing you call + nourishing will stay on my stomach. I do what I can: and have such kind + directors in Dr. H. and you, that I should be inexcusable if I did not. + </p> + <p> + I'll give you a regimen, Madam, replied he; which, I am sure, the doctor + will approve of, and will make physic unnecessary in your case. And that + is, 'go to rest at ten at night. Rise not till seven in the morning. Let + your breakfast be watergruel, or milk-pottage, or weak broths: your dinner + any thing you like, so you will but eat: a dish of tea, with milk, in the + afternoon; and sago for your supper: and, my life for your's, this diet, + and a month's country air, will set you up.' + </p> + <p> + We were much pleased with the worthy gentleman's disinterested regimen: + and she said, referring to her nurse, (who vouched for her,) Pray, Mr. + Hickman, let Miss Howe know the good hands I am in: and as to the kind + charge of the gentleman, assure her, that all I promised to her, in the + longest of my two last letters, on the subject of my health, I do and + will, to the utmost of my power, observe. I have engaged, Sir, (to Mr. + Goddard,) I have engaged, Sir, (to me,) to Miss Howe, to avoid all wilful + neglects. It would be an unpardonable fault, and very ill become the + character I would be glad to deserve, or the temper of mind I wish my + friends hereafter to think me mistress of, if I did not. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman and I went afterwards to a neighbouring coffee-house; and he + gave me some account of your behaviour at the ball on Monday night, and of + your treatment of him in the conference he had with you before that; which + he represented in a more favourable light than you had done yourself: and + yet he gave his sentiments of you with great freedom, but with the + politeness of a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + He told me how very determined the lady was against marrying you; that she + had, early this morning, set herself to write a letter to Miss Howe, in + answer to one he brought her, which he was to call for at twelve, it being + almost finished before he saw her at breakfast; and that at three he + proposed to set out on his return. + </p> + <p> + He told me that Miss Howe, and her mother, and himself, were to begin + their little journey for the Isle of Wight on Monday next: but that he + must make the most favourable representation of Miss Harlowe's bad health, + or they should have a very uneasy absence. He expressed the pleasure he + had in finding the lady in such good hands. He proposed to call on Dr. H. + to take his opinion whether it were likely she would recover; and hoped he + should find it favourable. + </p> + <p> + As he was resolved to make the best of the matter, and as the lady had + refused to accept of the money offered by Mr. Hickman, I said nothing of + her parting with her clothes. I thought it would serve no other end to + mention it, but to shock Miss Howe: for it has such a sound with it, that + a woman of her rank and fortune should be so reduced, that I cannot myself + think of it with patience; nor know I but one man in the world who can. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman is a little finical and formal. Modest or diffident men + wear not soon off those little precisenesses, which the confident, if ever + they had them, presently get above; because they are too confident to + doubt any thing. But I think Mr. Hickman is an agreeable, sensible man, + and not at all deserving of the treatment or the character you give him. + </p> + <p> + But you are really a strange mortal: because you have advantages in your + person, in your air, and intellect, above all the men I know, and a face + that would deceive the devil, you can't think any man else tolerable. + </p> + <p> + It is upon this modest principle that thou deridest some of us, who, not + having thy confidence in their outside appearance, seek to hide their + defects by the tailor's and peruke-maker's assistance; (mistakenly enough, + if it be really done so absurdly as to expose them more;) and sayest, that + we do but hang out a sign, in our dress, of what we have in the shop of + our minds. This, no doubt, thou thinkest, is smartly observed: but + pr'ythee, Lovelace, let me tell thee, if thou canst, what sort of a sign + must thou hang out, wert thou obliged to give us a clear idea by it of the + furniture of thy mind? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman tells me, he should have been happy with Miss Howe some weeks + ago, (for all the settlements have been some time engrossed;) but that she + will not marry, she declares, while her dear friend is so unhappy. + </p> + <p> + This is truly a charming instance of the force of female friendship; which + you and I, and our brother rakes, have constantly ridiculed as a + chimerical thing in women of equal age, and perfections. + </p> + <p> + But really, Lovelace, I see more and more that there are not in the world, + with our conceited pride, narrower-souled wretches than we rakes and + libertines are. And I'll tell thee how it comes about. + </p> + <p> + Our early love of roguery makes us generally run away from instruction; + and so we become mere smatterers in the sciences we are put to learn; and, + because we will know no more, think there is no more to be known. + </p> + <p> + With an infinite deal of vanity, un-reined imaginations, and no judgments + at all, we next commence half-wits, and then think we have the whole field + of knowledge in possession, and despise every one who takes more pains, + and is more serious, than ourselves, as phlegmatic, stupid fellows, who + have no taste for the most poignant pleasures of life. + </p> + <p> + This makes us insufferable to men of modesty and merit, and obliges us to + herd with those of our own cast; and by this means we have no + opportunities of seeing or conversing with any body who could or would + show us what we are; and so we conclude that we are the cleverest fellows + in the world, and the only men of spirit in it; and looking down with + supercilious eyes on all who gave not themselves the liberties we take, + imagine the world made for us, and for us only. + </p> + <p> + Thus, as to useful knowledge, while others go to the bottom, we only skim + the surface; are despised by people of solid sense, of true honour, and + superior talents; and shutting our eyes, move round and round, like so + many blind mill-horses, in one narrow circle, while we imagine we have all + the world to range in. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I threw myself in Mr. Hickman's way, on his return from the lady. + </p> + <p> + He was excessively moved at taking leave of her; being afraid, as he said + to me, (though he would not tell her so,) that he should never see her + again. She charged him to represent every thing to Miss Howe in the most + favourable light that the truth would bear. + </p> + <p> + He told me of a tender passage at parting; which was, that having saluted + her at her closet-door, he could not help once more taking the same + liberty, in a more fervent manner, at the stairs-head, whither she + accompanied him; and this in the thought, that it was the last time he + should ever have that honour; and offering to apologize for his freedom + (for he had pressed her to his heart with a vehemence, that he could + neither account for or resist)—'Excuse you, Mr. Hickman! that I + will: you are my brother and my friend: and to show you that the good man, + who is to be happy with my beloved Miss Howe, is very dear to me, you + shall carry to her this token of my love,' [offering her sweet face to his + salute, and pressing his hand between her's:] 'and perhaps her love of me + will make it more agreeable to her, than her punctilio would otherwise + allow it to be: and tell her, said she, dropping on one knee, with clasped + hands, and uplifted eyes, that in this posture you see me, in the last + moment of our parting, begging a blessing upon you both, and that you may + be the delight and comfort of each other, for many, very many happy + years!' + </p> + <p> + Tears, said he, fell from my eyes: I even sobbed with mingled joy and + sorrow; and she retreating as soon as I raised her, I went down stairs + highly dissatisfied with myself for going; yet unable to stay; my eyes + fixed the contrary way to my feet, as long as I could behold the skirts of + her raiment. + </p> + <p> + I went to the back-shop, continued the worthy man, and recommended the + angelic lady to the best care of Mrs. Smith; and, when I was in the + street, cast my eye up at her window: there, for the last time, I doubt, + said he, that I shall ever behold her, I saw her; and she waved her + charming hand to me, and with such a look of smiling goodness, and mingled + concern, as I cannot describe. + </p> + <p> + Pr'ythee tell me, thou vile Lovelace, if thou hast not a notion, even from + these jejune descriptions of mine, that there must be a more exalted + pleasure in intellectual friendship, than ever thou couldst taste in the + gross fumes of sensuality? And whether it may not be possible for thee, in + time, to give that preference to the infinitely preferable, which I hope, + now, that I shall always give? + </p> + <p> + I will leave thee to make the most of this reflection, from + </p> + <p> + Thy true friend, J. BELFORD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER XLIX + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE THURSDAY, JULY 25.* + </p> + <p> + * Text error: should be Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + Your two affecting letters were brought to me (as I had directed any + letter from you should be) to the Colonel's, about an hour before we broke + up. I could not forbear dipping into them there; and shedding more tears + over them than I will tell you of; although I dried my eyes as well as I + could, that the company I was obliged to return to, and my mother, should + see as little of my concern as possible. + </p> + <p> + I am yet (and was then still more) excessively fluttered. The occasion I + will communicate to you by-and-by: for nothing but the flutters given by + the stroke of death could divert my first attention from the sad and + solemn contents of your last favour. These therefore I must begin with. + </p> + <p> + How can I bear the thoughts of losing so dear a friend! I will not so much + as suppose it. Indeed I cannot! such a mind as your's was not vested in + humanity to be snatched away from us so soon. There must still be a great + deal for you to do for the good of all who have the happiness to know you. + </p> + <p> + You enumerate in your letter of Thursday last,* the particulars in which + your situation is already mended: let me see by effects that you are in + earnest in that enumeration; and that you really have the courage to + resolve to get above the sense of injuries you could not avoid; and then + will I trust to Providence and my humble prayers for your perfect + recovery: and glad at my heart shall I be, on my return from the little + island, to find you well enough to be near us according to the proposal + Mr. Hickman has to make to you. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. VII. Letter XXV. + </p> + <p> + You chide me in your's of Sunday on the freedom I take with your friends.* + </p> + <p> + * Ibid. Letter XLII. + </p> + <p> + I may be warm. I know I am—too warm. Yet warmth in friendship, + surely, cannot be a crime; especially when our friend has great merit, + labours under oppression, and is struggling with undeserved calamity. + </p> + <p> + I have no opinion of coolness in friendship, be it dignified or + distinguished by the name of prudence, or what it will. + </p> + <p> + You may excuse your relations. It was ever your way to do so. But, my + dear, other people must be allowed to judge as they please. I am not their + daughter, nor the sister of your brother and sister—I thank Heaven, + I am not. + </p> + <p> + But if you are displeased with me for the freedoms I took so long ago as + you mention, I am afraid, if you knew what passed upon an application I + made to your sister very lately, (in hopes to procure you the absolution + your heart is so much set upon,) that you would be still more concerned. + But they have been even with me—but I must not tell you all. I hope, + however, that these unforgivers [my mother is among them] were always + good, dutiful, passive children to their parents. + </p> + <p> + Once more forgive me. I owned I was too warm. But I have no example to the + contrary but from you: and the treatment you meet with is very little + encouragement to me to endeavour to imitate you in your dutiful meekness. + </p> + <p> + You leave it to me to give a negative to the hopes of the noble family, + whose only disgrace is, that so very vile a man is so nearly related to + them. But yet—alas! my dear, I am so fearful of consequences, so + selfishly fearful, if this negative must be given—I don't know what + I should say—but give me leave to suspend, however, this negative + till I hear from you again. + </p> + <p> + This earnest courtship of you into their splendid family is so very + honourable to you—they so justly admire you—you must have had + such a noble triumph over the base man—he is so much in earnest—the + world knows so much of the unhappy affair—you may do still so much + good—your will is so inviolate—your relations are so + implacable—think, my dear, and re-think. + </p> + <p> + And let me leave you to do so, while I give you the occasion of the + flutter I mentioned at the beginning of this letter; in the conclusion of + which you will find the obligation I have consented to lay myself under, + to refer this important point once more to your discussion, before I give, + in your name, the negative that cannot, when given, be with honour to + yourself repented of or recalled. + </p> + <p> + Know, then, my dear, that I accompanied my mother to Colonel Ambrose's on + the occasion I mentioned to you in my former. Many ladies and gentlemen + were there whom you know; particularly Miss Kitty D'Oily, Miss Lloyd, Miss + Biddy D'Ollyffe, Miss Biddulph, and their respective admirers, with the + Colonel's two nieces; fine women both; besides many whom you know not; for + they were strangers to me but by name. A splendid company, and all pleased + with one another, till Colonel Ambrose introduced one, who, the moment he + was brought into the great hall, set the whole assembly into a kind of + agitation. + </p> + <p> + It was your villain. + </p> + <p> + I thought I should have sunk as soon as I set my eyes upon him. My mother + was also affected; and, coming to me, Nancy, whispered she, can you bear + the sight of that wretch without too much emotion?—If not, withdraw + into the next apartment. + </p> + <p> + I could not remove. Every body's eyes were glanced from him to me. I sat + down and fanned myself, and was forced to order a glass of water. Oh! that + I had the eye the basilisk is reported to have, thought I, and that his + life were within the power of it!—directly would I kill him. + </p> + <p> + He entered with an air so hateful to me, but so agreeable to every other + eye, that I could have looked him dead for that too. + </p> + <p> + After the general salutations he singled out Mr. Hickman, and told him he + had recollected some parts of his behaviour to him, when he saw him last, + which had made him think himself under obligation to his patience and + politeness. + </p> + <p> + And so, indeed, he was. + </p> + <p> + Miss D'Oily, upon his complimenting her, among a knot of ladies, asked + him, in their hearing, how Miss Clarissa Harlowe did? + </p> + <p> + He heard, he said, you were not so well as he wished you to be, and as you + deserved to be. + </p> + <p> + O Mr. Lovelace, said she, what have you to answer for on that young lady's + account, if all be true that I have heard. + </p> + <p> + I have a great deal to answer for, said the unblushing villain: but that + dear lady has so many excellencies, and so much delicacy, that little sins + are great ones in her eye. + </p> + <p> + Little sins! replied Miss D'Oily: Mr. Lovelace's character is so well + known, that nobody believes he can commit little sins. + </p> + <p> + You are very good to me, Miss D'Oily. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I am not. + </p> + <p> + Then I am the only person to whom you are not very good: and so I am the + less obliged to you. + </p> + <p> + He turned, with an unconcerned air, to Miss Playford, and made her some + genteel compliments. I believe you know her not. She visits his cousins + Montague. Indeed he had something in his specious manner to say to every + body: and this too soon quieted the disgust each person had at his + entrance. + </p> + <p> + I still kept my seat, and he either saw me not, or would not yet see me; + and addressing himself to my mother, taking her unwilling hand, with an + air of high assurance, I am glad to see you here, Madam, I hope Miss Howe + is well. I have reason to complain greatly of her: but hope to owe to her + the highest obligation that can be laid on man. + </p> + <p> + My daughter, Sir, is accustomed to be too warm and too zealous in her + friendships for either my tranquility or her own. + </p> + <p> + There had indeed been some late occasion given for mutual displeasure + between my mother and me: but I think she might have spared this to him; + though nobody heard it, I believe, but the person to whom it was spoken, + and the lady who told it me; for my mother spoke it low. + </p> + <p> + We are not wholly, Madam, to live for ourselves, said the vile hypocrite: + it is not every one who had a soul capable of friendship: and what a heart + must that be, which can be insensible to the interests of a suffering + friend? + </p> + <p> + This sentiment from Mr. Lovelace's mouth! said my mother—forgive me, + Sir; but you can have no end, surely, in endeavouring to make me think as + well of you as some innocent creatures have thought of you to their cost. + </p> + <p> + She would have flung from him. But, detaining her hand—Less severe, + dear Madam, said he, be less severe in this place, I beseech you. You will + allow, that a very faulty person may see his errors; and when he does, and + owns them, and repents, should he not be treated mercifully? + </p> + <p> + Your air, Sir, seems not to be that of a penitent. But the place may as + properly excuse this subject, as what you call my severity. + </p> + <p> + But, dearest Madam, permit me to say, that I hope for your interest with + your charming daughter (was his syncophant word) to have it put in my + power to convince all the world that there never was a truer penitent. And + why, why this anger, dear Madam, (for she struggled to get her hand out of + his,) these violent airs—so maidenly! [impudent fellow!]—May I + not ask, if Miss Howe be here? + </p> + <p> + She would not have been here, replied my mother, had she known whom she + had been to see. + </p> + <p> + And is she here, then?—Thank Heaven!—he disengaged her hand, + and stept forward into company. + </p> + <p> + Dear Miss Lloyd, said he, with an air, (taking her hand as he quitted my + mother's,) tell me, tell me, is Miss Arabella Harlowe here? Or will she be + here? I was informed she would—and this, and the opportunity of + paying my compliments to your friend Miss Howe, were great inducements + with me to attend the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + Superlative assurance! was it not, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Miss Arabella Harlowe, excuse me, Sir, said Miss Lloyd, would be very + little inclined to meet you here, or any where else. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps so, my dear Miss Lloyd: but, perhaps, for that very reason, I am + more desirous to see her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Harlowe, Sir, and Miss Biddulph, with a threatening air, will hardly + be here without her brother. I imagine, if one comes, both will come. + </p> + <p> + Heaven grant they both may! said the wretch. Nothing, Miss Biddulph, shall + begin from me to disturb this assembly, I assure you, if they do. One calm + half-hour's conversation with that brother and sister, would be a most + fortunate opportunity to me, in presence of the Colonel and his lady, or + whom else they should choose. + </p> + <p> + Then, turning round, as if desirous to find out the one or the other, he + 'spied me, and with a very low bow, approached me. + </p> + <p> + I was all in a flutter, you may suppose. He would have taken my hand. I + refused it, all glowing with indignation: every body's eyes upon us. + </p> + <p> + I went down from him to the other end of the room, and sat down, as I + thought, out of his hated sight; but presently I heard his odious voice, + whispering, behind my chair, (he leaning upon the back of it, with + impudent unconcern,) Charming Miss Howe! looking over my shoulder: one + request—[I started up from my seat; but could hardly stand neither, + for very indignation]—O this sweet, but becoming disdain! whispered + on the insufferable creature—I am sorry to give you all this + emotion: but either here, or at your own house, let me entreat from you + one quarter of an hour's audience.—I beseech you, Madam, but one + quarter of an hour, in any of the adjoining apartments. + </p> + <p> + Not for a kingdom, fluttering my fan. I knew not what I did.—But I + could have killed him. + </p> + <p> + We are so much observed—else on my knees, my dear Miss Howe, would I + beg your interest with your charming friend. + </p> + <p> + She'll have nothing to say to you. + </p> + <p> + (I had not then your letters, my dear.) + </p> + <p> + Killing words!—But indeed I have deserved them, and a dagger in my + heart besides. I am so conscious of my demerits, that I have no hope, but + in your interposition—could I owe that favour to Miss Howe's + mediation which I cannot hope for on any other account— + </p> + <p> + My mediation, vilest of men!—My mediation!—I abhor you!—From + my soul, I abhor you, vilest of men!—Three or four times I repeated + these words, stammering too.—I was excessively fluttered. + </p> + <p> + You can tell me nothing, Madam, so bad as I will call myself. I have been, + indeed, the vilest of men; but now I am not so. Permit me—every + body's eyes are upon us!—but one moment's audience—to exchange + but ten words with you, dearest Miss Howe—in whose presence you + please—for your dear friend's sake—but ten words with you in + the next apartment. + </p> + <p> + It is an insult upon me to presume that I would exchange with you, if I + could help it!—Out of my way! Out of my sight—fellow! + </p> + <p> + And away I would have flung: but he took my hand. I was excessively + disordered—every body's eyes more and more intent upon us. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman, whom my mother had drawn on one side, to enjoin him a + patience, which perhaps needed not to have been enforced, came up just + then, with my mother who had him by his leading-strings—by his + sleeve I should say. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hickman, said the bold wretch, be my advocate but for ten words in the + next apartment with Miss Howe, in your presence; and in your's, Madam, to + my mother. + </p> + <p> + Hear, Nancy, what he has to say to you. To get rid of him, hear his ten + words. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, Madam! his very breath—Unhand me, Sir! + </p> + <p> + He sighed and looked—O how the practised villain sighed and looked! + He then let go my hand, with such a reverence in his manner, as brought + blame upon me from some, that I would not hear him.—And this + incensed me the more. O my dear, this man is a devil! This man is indeed a + devil!— So much patience when he pleases! So much gentleness!—Yet + so resolute, so persisting, so audacious! + </p> + <p> + I was going out of the assembly in great disorder. He was at the door as + soon as I. + </p> + <p> + How kind this is, said the wretch; and, ready to follow me, opened the + door for me. + </p> + <p> + I turned back upon this: and, not knowing what I did, snapped my fan just + in his face, as he turned short upon me; and the powder flew from his + hair. + </p> + <p> + Every body seemed as much pleased as I was vexed. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Mr. Hickman, nettled at the powder flying, and at the smiles + of the company upon him; Mr. Hickman, you will be one of the happiest men + in the world, because you are a good man, and will do nothing to provoke + this passionate lady; and because she has too much good sense to be + provoked without reason: but else the Lord have mercy upon you! + </p> + <p> + This man, this Mr. Hickman, my dear, is too meek for a man. Indeed he is.—But + my patient mother twits me, that her passionate daughter ought to like him + the better for that. But meek men abroad are not always meek at home. I + have observed that in more instances than one: and if they were, I should + not, I verily think, like them the better for being so. + </p> + <p> + He then turned to my mother, resolved to be even with her too: Where, good + Madam, could Miss Howe get all this spirit? + </p> + <p> + The company around smiled; for I need not tell you that my mother's high + spiritedness is pretty well known; and she, sadly vexed, said, Sir, you + treat me, as you do the rest of the world—but— + </p> + <p> + I beg pardon, Madam, interrupted he: I might have spared my question—and + instantly (I retiring to the other end of the hall) he turned to Miss + Playford; What would I give, Madam, to hear you sing that song you obliged + us with at Lord M.'s! + </p> + <p> + He then, as if nothing had happened, fell into a conversation with her and + Miss D'Ollyffe, upon music; and whisperingly sung to Miss Playford; + holding her two hands, with such airs of genteel unconcern, that it vexed + me not a little to look round, and see how pleased half the giddy fools of + our sex were with him, notwithstanding his notorious wicked character. To + this it is that such vile fellows owe much of their vileness: whereas, if + they found themselves shunned, and despised, and treated as beasts of + prey, as they are, they would run to their caverns; there howl by + themselves; and none but such as sad accident, or unpitiable presumption, + threw in their way, would suffer by them. + </p> + <p> + He afterwards talked very seriously, at times, to Mr. Hickman: at times, I + say; for it was with such breaks and starts of gaiety, turning to this + lady, and to that, and then to Mr. Hickman again, resuming a serious or a + gay air at pleasure, that he took every body's eye, the women's + especially; who were full of their whispering admirations of him, + qualified with if's and but's, and what pity's, and such sort of stuff, + that showed in their very dispraises too much liking. + </p> + <p> + Well may our sex be the sport and ridicule of such libertines! Unthinking + eye-governed creatures!—Would not a little reflection teach us, that + a man of merit must be a man of modesty, because a diffident one? and that + such a wretch as this must have taken his degrees in wickedness, and gone + through a course of vileness, before he could arrive at this impenetrable + effrontery? an effrontery which can produce only from the light opinion he + has of us, and the high one of himself. + </p> + <p> + But our sex are generally modest and bashful themselves, and are too apt + to consider that which in the main is their principal grace, as a defect: + and finely do they judge, when they think of supplying that defect by + choosing a man that cannot be ashamed. + </p> + <p> + His discourse to Mr. Hickman turned upon you, and his acknowledged + injuries of you: though he could so lightly start from the subject, and + return to it. + </p> + <p> + I have no patience with such a devil—man he cannot be called. To be + sure he would behave in the same manner any where, or in any presence, + even at the altar itself, if a woman were with him there. + </p> + <p> + It shall ever be a rule with me, that he who does not regard a woman with + some degree of reverence, will look upon her and occasionally treat her + with contempt. + </p> + <p> + He had the confidence to offer to take me out; but I absolutely refused + him, and shunned him all I could, putting on the most contemptuous airs; + but nothing could mortify him. + </p> + <p> + I wished twenty times I had not been there. + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen were as ready as I to wish he had broken his neck, rather + than been present, I believe: for nobody was regarded but he. So little of + the fop; yet so elegant and rich in his dress: his person so specious: his + air so intrepid: so much meaning and penetration in his face: so much + gaiety, yet so little affectation; no mere toupet-man; but all manly; and + his courage and wit, the one so known, the other so dreaded, you must + think the petits-maîtres (of which there were four or five present) were + most deplorably off in his company; and one grave gentleman observed to + me, (pleased to see me shun him as I did,) that the poet's observation was + too true, that the generality of ladies were rakes in their hearts, or + they could not be so much taken with a man who had so notorious a + character. + </p> + <p> + I told him the reflection both of the poet and applier was much too + general, and made with more ill-nature than good manners. + </p> + <p> + When the wretch saw how industriously I avoided him, (shifting from one + part of the hall to another,) he at last boldly stept up to me, as my + mother and Mr. Hickman were talking to me; and thus before them accosted + me: + </p> + <p> + I beg your pardon, Madam; but by your mother's leave, I must have a few + moments' conversation with you, either here, or at your own house; and I + beg you will give me the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Nancy, said my mother, hear what he has to say to you. In my presence you + may: and better in the adjoining apartment, if it must be, than to come to + you at our own house. + </p> + <p> + I retired to one corner of the hall, my mother following me, and he, + taking Mr. Hickman under his arm, following her—Well, Sir, said I, + what have you to say?—Tell me here. + </p> + <p> + I have been telling Mr. Hickman, said he, how much I am concerned for the + injuries I have done to the most excellent woman in the world: and yet, + that she obtained such a glorious triumph over me the last time I had the + honour to see her, as, with my penitence, ought to have abated her former + resentments: but that I will, with all my soul, enter into any measures to + obtain her forgiveness of me. My cousins Montague have told you this. Lady + Betty and Lady Sarah and my Lord M. are engaged for my honour. I know your + power with the dear creature. My cousins told me you gave them hopes you + would use it in my behalf. My Lord M. and his two sisters are impatiently + expecting the fruits of it. You must have heard from her before now: I + hope you have. And will you be so good as to tell me, if I may have any + hopes? + </p> + <p> + If I must speak on this subject, let me tell you that you have broken her + heart. You know not the value of the lady you have injured. You deserve + her not. And she despises you, as she ought. + </p> + <p> + Dear Miss Howe, mingle not passion with denunciations so severe. I must + know my fate. I will go abroad once more, if I find her absolutely + irreconcileable. But I hope she will give me leave to attend upon her, to + know my doom from her own mouth. + </p> + <p> + It would be death immediate for her to see you. And what must you be, to + be able to look her in the face? + </p> + <p> + I then reproached him (with vehemence enough you may believe) on his + baseness, and the evils he had made you suffer: the distress he had + reduced you to; all your friends made your enemies: the vile house he had + carried you to; hinted at his villanous arts; the dreadful arrest: and + told him of your present deplorable illness, and resolution to die rather + than to have him. + </p> + <p> + He vindicated not any part of his conduct, but that of the arrest; and so + solemnly protested his sorrow for his usage of you, accusing himself in + the freest manner, and by deserved appellations, that I promised to lay + before you this part of our conversation. And now you have it. + </p> + <p> + My mother, as well as Mr. Hickman, believes, from what passed on this + occasion, that he is touched in conscience for the wrongs he has done you: + but, by his whole behaviour, I must own, it seems to me that nothing can + touch him for half an hour together. Yet I have no doubt that he would + willingly marry you; and it piques his pride, I could see, that he should + be denied; as it did mine, that such a wretch had dared to think it in his + power to have such a woman whenever he pleased; and that it must be + accounted a condescension, and matter of obligation (by all his own family + at least) that he would vouchsafe to think of marriage. + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear, you have before you the reason why I suspend the decisive + negative to the ladies of his family. My mother, Miss Lloyd, and Miss + Biddulph, who were inquisitive after the subject of our retired + conversation, and whose curiosity I thought it was right, in some degree, + to gratify, (especially as these young ladies are of our select + acquaintance,) are all of opinion that you should be his. + </p> + <p> + You will let Mr. Hickman know your whole mind; and when he acquaint me + with it, I will tell you all my own. + </p> + <p> + Mean time, may the news he will bring me of the state of your health be + favourable! prays, with the utmost fervency, + </p> + <p> + Your ever faithful and affectionate ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER L + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE THURSDAY, JULY 27. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + After I have thankfully acknowledged your favour in sending Mr. Hickman to + visit me before you set out upon your intended journey, I must chide you + (in the sincerity of that faithful love, which could not be the love it is + if it would not admit of that cementing freedom) for suspending the + decisive negative, which, upon such full deliberation, I had entreated you + to give to Mr. Lovelace's relations. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry that I am obliged to repeat to you, my dear, who know me so + well, that, were I sure I should live many years, I would not have Mr. + Lovelace; much less can I think of him, as it is probable I may not live + one. + </p> + <p> + As to the world and its censures, you know, my dear, that, however + desirous I always was of a fair fame, yet I never thought it right to give + more than a second place to the world's opinion. The challenges made to + Mr. Lovelace, by Miss D'Oily, in public company, are a fresh proof that I + have lost my reputation: and what advantage would it be to me, were it + retrievable, and were I to live long, if I could not acquit myself to + myself? + </p> + <p> + Having in my former said so much on the freedoms you have taken with my + friends, I shall say the less now; but your hint, that something else has + newly passed between some of them and you, gives me great concern, and + that as well for my own sake as for theirs, since it must necessarily + incense them against me. I wise, my dear, that I had been left to my own + course on an occasion so very interesting to myself. But, since what is + done cannot be helped, I must abide the consequences: yet I dread more + than before, what may be my sister's answer, if an answer will be at all + vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + Will you give me leave, my dear, to close this subject with one remark? + —It is this: that my beloved friend, in points where her own + laudable zeal is concerned, has ever seemed more ready to fly from the + rebuke, than from the fault. If you will excuse this freedom, I will + acknowledge thus far in favour of your way of thinking, as to the conduct + of some parents in these nice cases, that indiscreet opposition does + frequently as much mischief as giddy love. + </p> + <p> + As to the invitation you are so kind as to give me, to remove privately + into your neighbourhood, I have told Mr. Hickman that I will consider of + it; but believe, if you will be so good as to excuse me, that I shall not + accept of it, even should I be able to remove. I will give you my reasons + for declining it; and so I ought, when both my love and my gratitude would + make a visit now-and-then from my dear Miss Howe the most consolate thing + in the world to me. + </p> + <p> + You must know then, that this great town, wicked as it is, wants not + opportunities of being better; having daily prayers at several churches in + it; and I am desirous, as my strength will permit, to embrace those + opportunities. The method I have proposed to myself (and was beginning to + practise when that cruel arrest deprived me of both freedom and strength) + is this: when I was disposed to gentle exercise, I took a chair to St. + Dunstan's church in Fleet-street, where are prayers at seven in the + morning; I proposed if the weather favoured, to walk (if not, to take + chair) to Lincoln's-inn chapel, where, at eleven in the morning, and at + five in the afternoon, are the same desirable opportunities; and at other + times to go no farther than Covent-garden church, where are early morning + prayers likewise. + </p> + <p> + This method pursued, I doubt not, will greatly help, as it has already + done, to calm my disturbed thoughts, and to bring me to that perfect + resignation after which I aspire: for I must own, my dear, that sometimes + still my griefs and my reflections are too heavy for me; and all the aid I + can draw from religious duties is hardly sufficient to support my + staggering reason. I am a very young creature you know, my dear, to be + left to my own conduct in such circumstances as I am in. + </p> + <p> + Another reason why I choose not to go down into your neighbourhood, is the + displeasure that might arise, on my account, between your mother and you. + </p> + <p> + If indeed you were actually married, and the worthy man (who would then + have a title to all your regard) were earnestly desirous of near + neighbourhood, I know not what I might do: for although I might not + perhaps intend to give up my other important reasons at the time I should + make you a congratulatory visit, yet I might not know how to deny myself + the pleasure of continuing near you when there. + </p> + <p> + I send you enclosed the copy of my letter to my sister. I hope it will be + thought to be written with a true penitent spirit; for indeed it is. I + desire that you will not think I stoop too low in it; since there can be + no such thing as that in a child to parents whom she has unhappily + offended. + </p> + <p> + But if still (perhaps more disgusted than before at your freedom with + them) they should pass it by with the contempt of silence, (for I have not + yet been favoured with an answer,) I must learn to think it right in them + to do so; especially as it is my first direct application: for I have + often censured the boldness of those, who, applying for a favour, which it + is in a person's option to grant or refuse, take the liberty of being + offended, if they are not gratified; as if the petitioned had not as good + a right to reject, as the petitioner to ask. + </p> + <p> + But if my letter should be answered, and that in such terms as will make + me loth to communicate it to so warm a friend—you must not, my dear, + take it upon yourself to censure my relations; but allow for them as they + know not what I have suffered; as being filled with just resentments + against me, (just to them if they think them just;) and as not being able + to judge of the reality of my penitence. + </p> + <p> + And after all, what can they do for me?—They can only pity me: and + what will that but augment their own grief; to which at present their + resentment is an alleviation? for can they by their pity restore to me my + lost reputation? Can they by it purchase a sponge that will wipe out from + the year the past fatal four months of my life?* + </p> + <p> + * She takes in the time that she appointed to meet Mr. Lovelace. + </p> + <p> + Your account of the gay, unconcerned behaviour of Mr. Lovelace, at the + Colonel's, does not surprise me at all, after I am told that he had the + intrepidity to go there, knowing who were invited and expected.—Only + this, my dear, I really wonder at, that Miss Howe could imagine that I + could have a thought of such a man for a husband. + </p> + <p> + Poor wretch! I pity him, to see him fluttering about; abusing talents that + were given him for excellent purposes; taking in consideration for + courage; and dancing, fearless of danger, on the edge of a precipice! + </p> + <p> + But indeed his threatening to see me most sensibly alarms and shocks me. I + cannot but hope that I never, never more shall see him in this world. + </p> + <p> + Since you are so loth, my dear, to send the desired negative to the ladies + of his family, I will only trouble you to transmit the letter I shall + enclose for that purpose; directed indeed to yourself, because it was to + you that those ladies applied themselves on this occasion; but to be sent + by you to any one of the ladies, at your own choice. + </p> + <p> + I commend myself, my dearest Miss Howe, to your prayers; and conclude with + repeated thanks for sending Mr. Hickman to me; and with wishes for your + health and happiness, and for the speedy celebration of your nuptials; + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate and obliged, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE [ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.] THURSDAY, + JULY 27. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST MISS HOWE, + </p> + <p> + Since you seem loth to acquiesce in my determined resolution, signified to + you as soon as I was able to hold a pen, I beg the favour of you, by this, + or by any other way you think most proper, to acquaint the worthy ladies, + who have applied to you in behalf of their relation, that although I am + infinitely obliged to their generous opinion of me, yet I cannot consent + to sanctify, as I may say, Mr. Lovelace's repeated breaches of all moral + sanctions, and hazard my future happiness by a union with a man, through + whose premeditated injuries, in a long train of the basest contrivances, I + have forfeited my temporal hopes. + </p> + <p> + He himself, when he reflects upon his own actions, must surely bear + testimony to the justice as well as fitness of my determination. The + ladies, I dare say, would, were they to know the whole of my unhappy + story. + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to acquaint them that I deceive myself, if my resolution on + this head (however ungratefully and even inhumanely he has treated me) be + not owing more to principle than passion. Nor can I give a stronger proof + of the truth of this assurance, on this one easy condition, that he will + never molest me more. + </p> + <p> + In whatever way you choose to make this declaration, be pleased to let my + most respectful compliments to the ladies of that noble family, and to my + Lord M., accompany it. And do you, my dear, believe that I shall be, to + the last moment of my life, + </p> + <p> + Your ever obliged and affectionate CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, JULY 28. + </p> + <p> + I have three letters of thine to take notice of:* but am divided in my + mind, whether to quarrel with thee on thy unmerciful reflections, or to + thank thee for thy acceptable particularity and diligence. But several of + my sweet dears have I, indeed, in my time, made to cry and laugh before + the cry could go off the other: Why may I not, therefore, curse and + applaud thee in the same moment? So take both in one: and what follows, as + it shall rise from my pen. + </p> + <p> + * Letters XLVI. XLVII. and XLVIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + How often have I ingenuously confessed my sins against this excellent + creature?—Yet thou never sparest me, although as bad a man as + myself. Since then I get so little by my confessions, I had a good mind to + try to defend myself; and that not only from antient and modern story, but + from common practice; and yet avoid repeating any thing I have suggested + before in my own behalf. + </p> + <p> + I am in a humour to play the fool with my pen: briefly then, from antient + story first:—Dost thou not think that I am as much entitled to + forgiveness on Miss Harlowe's account, as Virgil's hero was on Queen + Dido's? For what an ungrateful varlet was that vagabond to the hospitable + princess, who had willingly conferred upon him the last favour?—Stealing + away, (whence, I suppose, the ironical phrase of trusty Trojan to this + day,) like a thief—pretendedly indeed at the command of the gods; + but could that be, when the errand he went upon was to rob other princes, + not only of their dominions, but of their lives?—Yet this fellow is, + at every word, the pious Æneas, with the immortal bard who celebrates him. + </p> + <p> + Should Miss Harlowe even break her heart, (which Heaven forbid!) for the + usage she has received, (to say nothing of her disappointed pride, to + which her death would be attributable, more than to reason,) what + comparison will her fate hold to Queen Dido's? And have I half the + obligation to her, that Æneas had to the Queen of Carthage? The latter + placing a confidence, the former none, in her man?—Then, whom else + have I robbed? Whom else have I injured? Her brother's worthless life I + gave him, instead of taking any man's; while the Trojan vagabond destroyed + his thousands. Why then should it not be the pious Lovelace, as well as + the pious Æneas? For, dost thou think, had a conflagration happened, and + had it been in my power, that I would not have saved my old Anchises, (as + he did his from the Ilion bonfire,) even at the expense of my Creüsa, had + I a wife of that name? + </p> + <p> + But for a more modern instance in my favour—Have I used Miss + Harlowe, as our famous Maiden Queen, as she was called, used one of her + own blood, a sister-queen, who threw herself into her protection from her + rebel-subjects, and whom she detained prisoner eighteen years, and at last + cut off her head? Yet do not honest protestants pronounce her pious too?—And + call her particularly their Queen? + </p> + <p> + As to common practice—Who, let me ask, that has it in his power to + gratify a predominant passion, be it what it will, denies himself the + gratification?—Leaving it to cooler deliberation, (and, if he be a + great man, to his flatterers,) to find a reason for it afterwards? + </p> + <p> + Then, as to the worst part of my treatment of this lady, How many men are + there, who, as well as I, have sought, by intoxicating liquors, first to + inebriate, then to subdue? What signifies what the potations were, when + the same end was in view? + </p> + <p> + Let me tell thee, upon the whole, that neither the Queen of Carthage, nor + the Queen of Scots, would have thought they had any reason to complain of + cruelty, had they been used no worse than I have used the queen of my + heart: And then do I not aspire with my whole soul to repair by marriage? + Would the pious Æneas, thinkest thou, have done such a piece of justice by + Dido, had she lived? + </p> + <p> + Come, come, Belford, let people run away with notions as they will, I am + comparatively a very innocent man. And if by these, and other like + reasonings, I have quieted my own conscience, a great end is answered. + What have I to do with the world? + </p> + <p> + And now I sit me peaceably down to consider thy letters. + </p> + <p> + I hope thy pleas in my favour,* when she gave thee, (so generously gave + thee,) for me my letters, were urged with an honest energy. But I suspect + thee much for being too ready to give up thy client. Then thou hast such a + misgiving aspect, an aspect rather inviting rejection than carrying + persuasion with it; and art such an hesitating, such a humming and hawing + caitiff; that I shall attribute my failure, if I do fail, rather to the + inability and ill looks of my advocate, than to my cause. Again, thou art + deprived of the force men of our cast give to arguments; for she won't let + thee swear!—Art, moreover, a very heavy, thoughtless fellow; tolerable + only at a second rebound; a horrid dunce at the impromptu. These, + encountering with such a lady, are great disadvantages.—And still a + greater is thy balancing, (as thou dost at present,) between old rakery + and new reformation; since this puts thee into the same situation with + her, as they told me, at Leipsick, Martin Luther was in, at the first + public dispute which he held in defence of his supposed new doctrines with + Eckius. For Martin was then but a linsey-wolsey reformer. He retained some + dogmas, which, by natural consequence, made others, that he held, + untenable. So that Eckius, in some points, had the better of him. But, + from that time, he made clear work, renouncing all that stood in his way: + and then his doctrines ran upon all fours. He was never puzzled + afterwards; and could boldly declare that he would defend them in the face + of angels and men; and to his friends, who would have dissuaded him from + venturing to appear before the Emperor Charles at Spires, That, were there + as many devils at Spires, as tiles upon the houses, he would go. An answer + that is admired by every protestant Saxon to this day. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Since then thy unhappy awkwardness destroys the force of thy arguments, I + think thou hadst better (for the present, however) forbear to urge her on + the subject of accepting the reparation I offer; lest the continual + teasing of her to forgive me should but strengthen her in her denials of + forgiveness; till, for consistency sake, she'll be forced to adhere to a + resolution so often avowed—Whereas, if left to herself, a little + time, and better health, which will bring on better spirits, will give her + quicker resentments; those quicker resentments will lead her into + vehemence; that vehemence will subside, and turn into expostulation and + parley: my friends will then interpose, and guaranty for me: and all our + trouble on both sides will be over.—Such is the natural course of + things. + </p> + <p> + I cannot endure thee for thy hopelessness in the lady's recovery;* and + that in contradiction to the doctor and apothecary. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Time, in the words of Congreve, thou sayest, will give increase to her + afflictions. But why so? Knowest thou not that those words (so contrary to + common experience) were applied to the case of a person, while passion was + in its full vigour?—At such a time, every one in a heavy grief + thinks the same: but as enthusiasts do by Scripture, so dost thou by the + poets thou hast read: any thing that carries the most distant allusion + from either to the case in hand, is put down by both for gospel, however + incongruous to the general scope of either, and to that case. So once, in + a pulpit, I heard one of the former very vehemently declare himself to be + a dead dog; when every man, woman, and child, were convinced to the + contrary by his howling. + </p> + <p> + I can tell thee that, if nothing else will do, I am determined, in spite + of thy buskin-airs, and of thy engagements for me to the contrary, to see + her myself. + </p> + <p> + Face to face have I known many a quarrel made up, which distance would + have kept alive, and widened. Thou wilt be a madder Jack than he in the + tale of a Tub, if thou givest an active opposition to this interview. + </p> + <p> + In short, I cannot bear the thought, that a woman whom once I had bound to + me in the silken cords of love, should slip through my fingers, and be + able, while my heart flames out with a violent passion for her, to despise + me, and to set both love and me at defiance. Thou canst not imagine how + much I envy thee, and her doctor, and her apothecary, and every one who I + hear are admitted to her presence and conversation; and wish to be the one + or the other in turn. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, if nothing else will do, I will see her. I'll tell thee of an + admirable expedient, just come cross me, to save thy promise, and my own. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick, you say, is a good woman: if the lady be worse, you shall + advise her to send for a parson to pray by her: unknown to her, unknown to + the lady, unknown to thee, (for so it may pass,) I will contrive to be the + man, petticoated out, and vested in a gown and cassock. I once, for a + certain purpose, did assume the canonicals; and I was thought to make a + fine sleek appearance; my broad rose-bound beaver became me mightily; and + I was much admired upon the whole by all who saw me. + </p> + <p> + Methinks it must be charmingly a propos to see me kneeling down by her + bed-side, (I am sure I shall pray heartily,) beginning out of the + common-prayer book the sick-office for the restoration of the languishing + lady, and concluding with an exhortation to charity and forgiveness for + myself. + </p> + <p> + I will consider of this matter. But, in whatever shape I shall choose to + appear, of this thou mayest assure thyself, I will apprize thee beforehand + of my visit, that thou mayst contrive to be out of the way, and to know + nothing of the matter. This will save thy word; and, as to mine, can she + think worse of me than she does at present? + </p> + <p> + An indispensable of true love and profound respect, in thy wise opinion,* + is absurdity or awkwardness.—'Tis surprising that thou shouldst be + one of those partial mortals who take their measures of right and wrong + from what they find themselves to be, and cannot help being!—So + awkwardness is a perfection in the awkward!—At this rate, no man + ever can be in the wrong. But I insist upon it, that an awkward fellow + will do every thing awkwardly: and, if he be like thee, will, when he has + done foolishly, rack his unmeaning brain for excuses as awkward as his + first fault. Respectful love is an inspirer of actions worthy of itself; + and he who cannot show it, where he most means it, manifests that he is an + unpolite rough creature, a perfect Belford, and has it not in him. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + But here thou'lt throw out that notable witticism, that my outside is the + best of me, thine the worst of thee; and that, if I set about mending my + mind, thou wilt mend thy appearance. + </p> + <p> + But, pr'ythee, Jack, don't stay for that; but set about thy amendment in + dress when thou leavest off thy mourning; for why shouldst thou prepossess + in thy disfavour all those who never saw thee before?—It is hard to + remove early-taken prejudices, whether of liking or distaste. People will + hunt, as I may say, for reasons to confirm first impressions, in + compliment to their own sagacity: nor is it every mind that has the + ingenuousness to confess itself half mistaken, when it finds itself to be + wrong. Thou thyself art an adept in the pretended science of reading men; + and, whenever thou art out, wilt study to find some reasons why it was + more probable that thou shouldst have been right; and wilt watch every + motion and action, and every word and sentiment, in the person thou hast + once censured, for proofs, in order to help thee to revive and maintain + thy first opinion. And, indeed, as thou seldom errest on the favourable + side, human nature is so vile a thing that thou art likely to be right + five times in six on what thou findest in thine own heart, to have reason + to compliment thyself on thy penetration. + </p> + <p> + Here is preachment for thy preachment: and I hope, if thou likest thy own, + thou wilt thank me for mine; the rather, as thou mayest be the better for + it, if thou wilt: since it is calculated for thy own meridian. + </p> + <p> + Well, but the lady refers my destiny to the letter she has written, + actually written, to Miss Howe; to whom it seems she has given her reasons + why she will not have me. I long to know the contents of this letter: but + am in great hopes that she has so expressed her denials, as shall give + room to think she only wants to be persuaded to the contrary, in order to + reconcile herself to herself. + </p> + <p> + I could make some pretty observations upon one or two places of the lady's + mediation: but, wicked as I am thought to be, I never was so abandoned as + to turn into ridicule, or even to treat with levity, things sacred. I + think it the highest degree of ill manners to jest upon those subjects + which the world in general look upon with veneration, and call divine. I + would not even treat the mythology of the heathen to a heathen, with the + ridicule that perhaps would fairly lie from some of the absurdities that + strike every common observer. Nor, when at Rome, and in other popish + countries, did I ever behave indecently at those ceremonies which I + thought very extraordinary: for I saw some people affected, and seemingly + edified, by them; and I contented myself to think, though they were any + good end to the many, there was religion enough in them, or civil policy + at least, to exempt them from the ridicule of even a bad man who had + common sense and good manners. + </p> + <p> + For the like reason I have never given noisy or tumultuous instances of + dislike to a new play, if I thought it ever so indifferent: for I + concluded, first, that every one was entitled to see quietly what he paid + for: and, next, as the theatre (the epitome of the world) consisted of + pit, boxes, and gallery, it was hard, I thought, if there could be such a + performance exhibited as would not please somebody in that mixed + multitude: and, if it did, those somebodies had as much right to enjoy + their own judgments, undisturbedly, as I had to enjoy mine. + </p> + <p> + This was my way of showing my disapprobation; I never went again. And as a + man is at his option, whether he will go to a play or not, he has not the + same excuse for expressing his dislike clamorously as if he were compelled + to see it. + </p> + <p> + I have ever, thou knowest, declared against those shallow libertines, who + could not make out their pretensions to wit, but on two subjects, to which + every man of true wit will scorn to be beholden: PROFANENESS and + OBSCENITY, I mean; which must shock the ears of every man or woman of + sense, without answering any end, but of showing a very low and abandoned + nature. And, till I came acquainted with the brutal Mowbray, [no great + praise to myself from such a tutor,] I was far from making so free as I do + now, with oaths and curses; for then I was forced to out-swear him + sometimes in order to keep him in his allegiance to me his general: nay, I + often check myself to myself, for this empty unprofitable liberty of + speech; in which we are outdone by the sons of the common-sewer. + </p> + <p> + All my vice is women, and the love of plots and intrigues; and I cannot + but wonder how I fell into those shocking freedoms of speech; since, + generally speaking, they are far from helping forward my main end: only, + now-and-then, indeed, a little novice rises to one's notice, who seems to + think dress, and oaths, and curses, the diagnostics of the rakish spirit + she is inclined to favour: and indeed they are the only qualifications + that some who are called rakes and pretty fellows have to boast of. But + what must the women be, who can be attracted by such empty-souled + profligates!—since wickedness with wit is hardly tolerable; but, + without it, is equally shocking and contemptible. + </p> + <p> + There again is preachment for thy preachment; and thou wilt be apt to + think that I am reforming too: but no such matter. If this were new light + darting in upon me, as thy morality seems to be to thee, something of this + kind might be apprehended: but this was always my way of thinking; and I + defy thee, or any of thy brethren, to name a time when I have either + ridiculed religion, or talked obscenely. On the contrary, thou knowest how + often I have checked that bear, in love-matters, Mowbray, and the finical + Tourville, and thyself too, for what ye have called the double-entendre. + In love, as in points that required a manly-resentment, it has always been + my maxim, to act, rather than to talk; and I do assure thee, as to the + first, the women themselves will excuse the one sooner than the other. + </p> + <p> + As to the admiration thou expressest for the books of scripture, thou art + certainly right in it. But 'tis strange to me, that thou wert ignorant of + their beauty, and noble simplicity, till now. Their antiquity always made + me reverence them: And how was it possible that thou couldest not, for + that reason, if for no other, give them a perusal? + </p> + <p> + I'll tell thee a short story, which I had from my tutor, admonishing me + against exposing myself by ignorant wonder, when I should quit college, to + go to town, or travel. + </p> + <p> + 'The first time Dryden's Alexander's Feast fell into his hands, he told + me, he was prodigiously charmed with it: and, having never heard any body + speak of it before, thought, as thou dost of the Bible, that he had made a + new discovery. + </p> + <p> + 'He hastened to an appointment which he had with several wits, (for he was + then in town,) one of whom was a noted critic, who, according to him, had + more merit than good fortune; for all the little nibblers in wit, whose + writings would not stand the test of criticism, made it, he said, a common + cause to run him down, as men would a mad dog. + </p> + <p> + 'The young gentleman (for young he then was) set forth magnificently in + the praises of that inimitable performance; and gave himself airs of + second-hand merit, for finding out its beauties. + </p> + <p> + 'The old bard heard him out with a smile, which the collegian took for + approbation, till he spoke; and then it was in these mortifying words: + 'Sdeath, Sir, where have you lived till now, or with what sort of company + have you conversed, young as you are, that you have never before heard of + the finest piece in the English language?' + </p> + <p> + This story had such an effect upon me, who had ever a proud heart, and + wanted to be thought a clever fellow, that, in order to avoid the like + disgrace, I laid down two rules to myself. The first, whenever I went into + company where there were strangers, to hear every one of them speak, + before I gave myself liberty to prate: The other, if I found any of them + above my match, to give up all title to new discoveries, contenting myself + to praise what they praised, as beauties familiar to me, though I had + never heard of them before. And so, by degrees, I got the reputation of a + wit myself: and when I threw off all restraint, and books, and learned + conversation, and fell in with some of our brethren who are now wandering + in Erebus, and with such others as Belton, Mowbray, Tourville, and + thyself, I set up on my own stock; and, like what we have been told of Sir + Richard, in his latter days, valued myself on being the emperor of the + company; for, having fathomed the depth of them all, and afraid of no + rival but thee, whom also I had got a little under, (by my gaiety and + promptitude at least) I proudly, like Addison's Cato, delighted to give + laws to my little senate. + </p> + <p> + Proceed with thee by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LIII + </h2> + <h3> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + </h3> + <p> + But now I have cleared myself of any intentional levity on occasion of my + beloved's meditation; which, as you observe, is finely suited to her case, + (that is to say, as she and you have drawn her case;) I cannot help + expressing my pleasure, that by one or two verses of it, [the arrow, Jack, + and what she feared being come upon her!] I am encouraged to hope, what it + will be very surprising to me if it do not happen: that is, in plain + English, that the dear creature is in the way to be a mamma. + </p> + <p> + This cursed arrest, because of the ill effects the terror might have had + upon her, in that hoped-for circumstance, has concerned me more than on + any other account. It would be the pride of my life to prove, in this + charming frost-piece, the triumph of Nature over principle, and to have a + young Lovelace by such an angel: and then, for its sake, I am confident + she will live, and will legitimate it. And what a meritorious little + cherub would it be, that should lay an obligation upon both parents before + it was born, which neither of them would be able to repay!—Could I + be sure it is so, I should be out of all pain for her recovery: pain, I + say; since, were she to die—[die! abominable word! how I hate it!] I + verily think I should be the most miserable man in the world. + </p> + <p> + As for the earnestness she expresses for death, she has found the words + ready to her hand in honest Job; else she would not have delivered herself + with such strength and vehemence. + </p> + <p> + Her innate piety (as I have more than once observed) will not permit her + to shorten her own life, either by violence or neglect. She has a mind too + noble for that; and would have done it before now, had she designed any + such thing: for to do it, like the Roman matron, when the mischief is + over, and it can serve no end; and when the man, however a Tarquin, as + some may think me in this action, is not a Tarquin in power, so that no + national point can be made of it; is what she has too much good sense to + think of. + </p> + <p> + Then, as I observed in a like case, a little while ago, the distress, when + this was written, was strong upon her; and she saw no end of it: but all + was darkness and apprehension before her. Moreover, has she it not in her + power to disappoint, as much as she has been disappointed? Revenge, Jack, + has induced many a woman to cherish a life, to which grief and despair + would otherwise have put an end. + </p> + <p> + And, after all, death is no such eligible thing, as Job in his calamities, + makes it. And a death desired merely from worldly disappointments shows + not a right mind, let me tell this lady, whatever she may think of it.* + You and I Jack, although not afraid, in the height of passion or + resentment, to rush into those dangers which might be followed by a sudden + and violent death, whenever a point of honour calls upon us, would shudder + at his cool and deliberate approach in a lingering sickness, which had + debilitated the spirits. + </p> + <p> + * Mr. Lovelace could not know, that the lady was so thoroughly sensible of + the solidity of this doctrine, as she really was: for, in her letter to + Mrs. Norton, (Letter XLIV. of this volume,) she says,—'Nor let it be + imagined, that my present turn of mind proceeds from gloominess or + melancholy: for although it was brought on by disappointment, (the world + showing me early, even at my first rushing into it, its true and ugly + face,) yet I hope, that it has obtained a better root, and will every day + more and more, by its fruits, demonstrate to me, and to all my friends, + that it has.' + </p> + <p> + So we read of a famous French general [I forget as well the reign of the + prince as the name of the man] who, having faced with intrepidity the + ghastly varlet on an hundred occasions in the field, was the most dejected + of wretches, when, having forfeited his life for treason, he was led with + all the cruel parade of preparation, and surrounding guards, to the + scaffold. + </p> + <p> + The poet says well: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Tis not the stoic lesson, got by rote, + The pomp of words, and pedant dissertation, + That can support us in the hour of terror. + Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it: + But when the trial comes, they start, and stand aghast. +</pre> + <p> + Very true: for then it is the old man in the fable, with his bundle of + sticks. + </p> + <p> + The lady is well read in Shakspeare, our English pride and glory; and must + sometimes reason with herself in his words, so greatly expressed, that the + subject, affecting as it is, cannot produce any thing greater. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; + To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; + This sensible, warm motion to become + A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit + To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside + In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice: + To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, + Or blown, with restless violence, about + The pendant worlds; or to be worse than worst + Of those that lawless and uncertain thought + Imagines howling: 'tis too horrible! + The weariest and most loaded worldly life, + That pain, age, penury, and imprisonment, + Can lay on nature, is a paradise + To what we fear of death.—— +</pre> + <p> + I find, by one of thy three letters, that my beloved had some account from + Hickman of my interview with Miss Howe, at Col. Ambrose's. I had a very + agreeable time of it there; although severely rallied by several of the + assembly. It concerns me, however, not a little, to find our affair so + generally known among the flippanti of both sexes. It is all her own + fault. There never, surely, was such an odd little soul as this.—Not + to keep her own secret, when the revealing of it could answer no possible + good end; and when she wants not (one would think) to raise to herself + either pity or friends, or to me enemies, by the proclamation!—Why, + Jack, must not all her own sex laugh in their sleeves at her weakness? + what would become of the peace of the world, if all women should take it + into their heads to follow her example? what a fine time of it would the + heads of families have? Their wives always filling their ears with their + confessions; their daughters with theirs: sisters would be every day + setting their brothers about cutting of throats, if the brothers had at + heart the honour of their families, as it is called; and the whole world + would either be a scene of confusion; or cuckoldom as much the fashion as + it is in Lithuania.* + </p> + <p> + * In Lithuania, the women are said to have so allowedly their gallants, + called adjutores, that the husbands hardly ever enter upon any part of + pleasure without them. + </p> + <p> + I am glad, however, that Miss Howe (as much as she hates me) kept her word + with my cousins on their visit to her, and with me at the Colonel's, to + endeavour to persuade her friend to make up all matters by matrimony; + which, no doubt, is the best, nay, the only method she can take, for her + own honour, and that of her family. + </p> + <p> + I had once thoughts of revenging myself on that vixen, and, particularly, + as thou mayest* remember, had planned something to this purpose on the + journey she is going to take, which had been talked of some time. But, I + think—let me see—yet, I think, I will let this Hickman have + her safe and entire, as thou believest the fellow to be a tolerable sort + of a mortal, and that I have made the worst of him: and I am glad, for his + own sake, he has not launched out too virulently against me to thee. + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. IV. Letter LIV. + </p> + <p> + But thou seest, Jack, by her refusal of money from him, or Miss Howe,* + that the dear extravagant takes a delight in oddnesses, choosing to part + with her clothes, though for a song. Dost think she is not a little + touched at times? I am afraid she is. A little spice of that insanity, I + doubt, runs through her, that she had in a stronger degree, in the first + week of my operations. Her contempt of life; her proclamations; her + refusal of matrimony; and now of money from her most intimate friends; are + sprinklings of this kind, and no other way, I think, to be accounted for. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Her apothecary is a good honest fellow. I like him much. But the silly + dear's harping so continually upon one string, dying, dying, dying, is + what I have no patience with. I hope all this melancholy jargon is owing + entirely to the way I would have her to be in. And it being as new to her, + as the Bible beauties to thee,* no wonder she knows not what to make of + herself; and so fancies she is breeding death, when the event will turn + out quite the contrary. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + Thou art a sorry fellow in thy remarks on the education and qualification + of smarts and beaux of the rakish order; if by thy we's and us's thou + meanest thyself or me:* for I pretend to say, that the picture has no + resemblance of us, who have read and conversed as we have done. It may + indeed, and I believe it does, resemble the generality of the fops and + coxcombs about town. But that let them look to; for, if it affects not me, + to what purpose thy random shot?—If indeed thou findest, by the new + light darted in upon thee, since thou hast had the honour of conversing + with this admirable creature, that the cap fits thy own head, why then, + according to the qui capit rule, e'en take and clap it on: and I will add + a string of bells to it, to complete thee for the fore-horse of the idiot + team. + </p> + <p> + * Ibid. and Letter LXVIII. + </p> + <p> + Although I just now said a kind thing or two for this fellow Hickman; yet + I can tell thee, I could (to use one of my noble peer's humble phrases) + eat him up without a corn of salt, when I think of his impudence to salute + my charmer twice at parting:* And have still less patience with the lady + herself for presuming to offer her cheek or lip [thou sayest not which] to + him, and to press his clumsy fist between her charming hands. An honour + worth a king's ransom; and what I would give—what would I not give? + to have!—And then he, in return, to press her, as thou sayest he + did, to his stupid heart; at that time, no doubt, more sensible, than ever + it was before! + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLVIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + By thy description of their parting, I see thou wilt be a delicate fellow + in time. My mortification in this lady's displeasure, will be thy + exaltation from her conversation. I envy thee as well for thy + opportunities, as for thy improvements: and such an impression has thy + concluding paragraph* made upon me, that I wish I do not get into a + reformation-humour as well as thou: and then what a couple of lamentable + puppies shall we make, howling in recitative to each other's discordant + music! + </p> + <p> + * Ibid. + </p> + <p> + Let me improve upon the thought, and imagine that, turned hermits, we have + opened the two old caves at Hornsey, or dug new ones; and in each of our + cells set up a death's head, and an hour-glass, for objects of + contemplation—I have seen such a picture: but then, Jack, had not + the old penitent fornicator a suffocating long grey beard? What figures + would a couple of brocaded or laced-waistcoated toupets make with their + sour screw'd up half-cock'd faces, and more than half shut eyes, in a + kneeling attitude, recapitulating their respective rogueries? This scheme, + were we only to make trial of it, and return afterwards to our old ways, + might serve to better purpose by far, than Horner's in the Country Wife, + to bring the pretty wenches to us. + </p> + <p> + Let me see; the author of Hudibras has somewhere a description that would + suit us, when met in one of our caves, and comparing our dismal notes + together. This is it. Suppose me described— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —He sat upon his rump, + His head like one in doleful dump: + Betwixt his knees his hands apply'd + Unto his cheeks, on either side: + And by him, in another hole, + Sat stupid Belford, cheek by jowl. +</pre> + <p> + I know thou wilt think me too ludicrous. I think myself so. It is truly, + to be ingenuous, a forced put: for my passions are so wound up, that I am + obliged either to laugh or cry. Like honest drunken Jack Daventry, [poor + fellow!—What an unhappy end was his!]—thou knowest, I used to + observe, that whenever he rose from an entertainment, which he never did + sober, it was his way, as soon as he got to the door, to look round him + like a carrier pigeon just thrown up, in order to spy out his course; and + then, taking to his heels, he would run all the way home, though it were a + mile or two, when he could hardly stand, and must have tumbled on his nose + if he had attempted to walk moderately. This then must be my excuse, in + this my unconverted estate, for a conclusion so unworthy of the conclusion + to thy third letter. + </p> + <p> + What a length have I run!—Thou wilt own, that if I pay thee not in + quality, I do in quantity: and yet I leave a multitude of things + unobserved upon. Indeed I hardly at this present know what to do with + myself but scribble. Tired with Lord M. who, in his recovery, has played + upon me the fable of the nurse, the crying child, and the wolf—tired + with my cousins Montague, though charming girls, were they not so near of + kin—tired with Mowbray and Tourville, and their everlasting identity— + tired with the country—tired of myself—longing for what I have + not—I must go to town; and there have an interview with the charmer + of my soul: for desperate diseases must have desperate remedies; and I + only wait to know my doom from Miss Howe! and then, if it be rejection, I + will try my fate, and receive my sentence at her feet.—But I will + apprize thee of it beforehand, as I told thee, that thou mayest keep thy + parole with the lady in the best manner thou canst. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF JULY 27, SEE + LETTERS L. LI. OF THIS VOLUME.] FRIDAY NIGHT, JULY 28. + </p> + <p> + I will now, my dearest friend, write to you all my mind, without reserve, + on your resolution not to have this vilest of men. You gave me, in your's + of Sunday the 23d, reasons so worthy of the pure mind of my Clarissa, in + support of this your resolution, that nothing but self-love, lest I should + lose my ever-amiable friend, could have prevailed upon me to wish you to + alter it. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I thought it was impossible there could be (however desirable) so + noble an instance given by any of our sex, of a passion conquered, when + there were so many inducements to give way to it. And, therefore, I was + willing to urge you once more to overcome your just indignation, and to be + prevailed upon by the solicitations of his friends, before you carried + your resentments to so great a height, that it would be more difficult for + you, and less to your honour to comply, than if you had complied at first. + </p> + <p> + But now, my dear, that I see you fixed in your noble resolution; and that + it is impossible for your pure mind to join itself with that of so + perjured a miscreant; I congratulate you most heartily upon it; and beg + your pardon for but seeming to doubt that theory and practice were not the + same thing with my beloved Clarissa. + </p> + <p> + I have only one thing that saddens my heart on this occasion; and that is, + the bad state of health Mr. Hickman (unwillingly) owns you are in. + Hitherto you have well observed the doctrine you always laid down to me, + That a cursed person should first seek the world's opinion of her; and, in + all cases where the two could not be reconciled, have preferred the first + to the last; and are, of consequence, well justified to your own heart, as + well as to your Anna Howe. Let me therefore beseech you to endeavour, by + all possible means, to recover your health and spirits: and this, as what, + if it can be effected, will crown the work, and show the world, that you + were indeed got above the base wretch; and, though put out of your course + for a little while, could resume it again, and go on blessing all within + your knowledge, as well by your example as by your precepts. + </p> + <p> + For Heaven's sake, then, for the world's sake, for the honour of our sex, + and for my sake, once more I beseech you, try to overcome this shock: and, + if you can overcome it, I shall then be as happy as I wish to be; for I + cannot, indeed I cannot, think of parting with you, for many, many years + to come. + </p> + <p> + The reasons you give for discouraging my wishes to have you near us are so + convincing, that I ought at present to acquiesce in them: but, my dear, + when your mind is fully settled, as, (now you are so absolutely determined + in it, with regard this wretch,) I hope it will soon be, I shall expect + you with us, or near us: and then you shall chalk out every path that I + will set my foot in; nor will I turn aside either to the right hand or to + the left. + </p> + <p> + You wish I had not mediated for you to your friends. I wish so too; + because my mediation was ineffectual; because it may give new ground for + the malice of some of them to work upon; and because you are angry with me + for doing so. But how, as I said in my former, could I sit down in quiet, + when I knew how uneasy their implacableness made you?—But I will + tear myself from the subject; for I see I shall be warm again—and + displease you—and there is not one thing in the world that I would + do, however agreeable to myself, if I thought it would disoblige you; nor + any one that I would omit to do, if I knew it would give you pleasure. And + indeed, my dear half-severe friend, I will try if I cannot avoid the fault + as willingly as I would the rebuke. + </p> + <p> + For this reason, I forbear saying any thing on so nice a subject as your + letter to your sister. It must be right, because you think it so—and + if it be taken as it ought, that will show you that it is. But if it beget + insults and revilings, as it is but too likely, I find you don't intend to + let me know it. + </p> + <p> + You were always so ready to accuse yourself for other people's faults, and + to suspect your own conduct rather than the judgment of your relations, + that I have often told you I cannot imitate you in this. It is not a + necessary point of belief with me, that all people in years are therefore + wise; or that all young people are therefore rash and headstrong: it may + be generally the case, as far as I know: and possibly it may be so in the + case of my mother and her girl: but I will venture to say that it has not + yet appeared to be so between the principals of Harlowe-place and their + second daughter. + </p> + <p> + You are for excusing them beforehand for their expected cruelty, as not + knowing what you have suffered, nor how ill you are: they have heard of + the former, and are not sorry for it: of the latter they have been told, + and I have most reason to know how they have taken it—but I shall be + far from avoiding the fault, and as surely shall incur the rebuke, if I + say any more upon this subject. I will therefore only add at present, That + your reasonings in their behalf show you to be all excellence; their + returns to you that they are all——Do, my dear, let me end with + a little bit of spiteful justice—but you won't, I know—so I + have done, quite done, however reluctantly: yet if you think of the word I + would have said, don't doubt the justice of it, and fill up the blank with + it. + </p> + <p> + You intimate that were I actually married, and Mr. Hickman to desire it, + you would think of obliging me with a visit on the occasion; and that, + perhaps, when with me, it would be difficult for you to remove far from + me. + </p> + <p> + Lord, my dear, what a stress do you seem to lay upon Mr. Hickman's + desiring it!—To be sure he does and would of all things desire to + have you near us, and with us, if we might be so favoured—policy, as + well as veneration for you, would undoubtedly make the man, if not a fool, + desire this. But let me tell you, that if Mr. Hickman, after marriage, + should pretend to dispute with me my friendships, as I hope I am not quite + a fool, I should let him know how far his own quiet was concerned in such + an impertinence; especially if they were such friendships as were + contracted before I knew him. + </p> + <p> + I know I always differed from you on this subject: for you think more + highly of a husband's prerogative than most people do of the royal one. + These notions, my dear, from a person of your sense and judgment, are no + way advantageous to us; inasmuch as they justify the assuming sex in their + insolence; when hardly one out of ten of them, their opportunities + considered, deserves any prerogative at all. Look through all the families + we know; and we shall not find one-third of them have half the sense of + their wives. And yet these are to be vested with prerogatives! And a woman + of twice their sense has nothing to do but hear, tremble, and obey—and + for conscience-sake too, I warrant! + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Hickman and I may perhaps have a little discourse upon these sorts + of subjects, before I suffer him to talk of the day: and then I shall let + him know what he has to trust to; as he will me, if he be a sincere man, + what he pretends to expect from me. But let me tell you, my dear, that it + is more in your power than, perhaps, you think it, to hasten the day so + much pressed for by my mother, as well as wished for by you—for the + very day that you can assure me that you are in a tolerable state of + health, and have discharged your doctor and apothecary, at their own + motions, on that account—some day in a month from that desirable + news shall be it. So, my dear, make haste and be well, and then this + matter will be brought to effect in a manner more agreeable to your Anna + Howe than it otherwise ever can. + </p> + <p> + I sent this day, by a particular hand, to the Misses Montague, your letter + of just reprobation of the greatest profligate in the kingdom; and hope I + shall not have done amiss that I transcribe some of the paragraphs of your + letter of the 23d, and send them with it, as you at first intended should + be done. + </p> + <p> + You are, it seems, (and that too much for your health,) employed in + writing. I hope it is in penning down the particulars of your tragical + story. And my mother has put me in mind to press you to it, with a view + that one day, if it might be published under feigned names, it would be as + much use as honour to the sex. My mother says she cannot help admiring you + for the propriety of your resentment of the wretch; and she would be + extremely glad to have her advice of penning your sad story complied with. + And then, she says, your noble conduct throughout your trials and + calamities will afford not only a shining example to your sex, but at the + same time, (those calamities befalling SUCH a person,) a fearful warning + to the inconsiderate young creatures of it. + </p> + <p> + On Monday we shall set out on our journey; and I hope to be back in a + fortnight, and on my return will have one pull more with my mother for a + London journey: and, if the pretence must be the buying of clothes, the + principal motive will be that of seeing once more my dear friend, while I + can say I have not finally given consent to the change of a visiter into a + relation, and so can call myself MY OWN, as well as + </p> + <p> + Your ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LV + </h2> + <p> + MISS HOWE, TO THE TWO MISSES MONTAGUE SAT. JULY 29. + </p> + <p> + DEAR LADIES, + </p> + <p> + I have not been wanting to use all my interest with my beloved friend, to + induce her to forgive and be reconciled to your kinsman, (though he has so + ill deserved it;) and have even repeated my earnest advice to her on this + head. This repetition, and the waiting for her answer, having taken up + time, have been the cause that I could not sooner do myself the honour of + writing to you on this subject. + </p> + <p> + You will see, by the enclosed, her immovable resolution, grounded on noble + and high-souled motives, which I cannot but regret and applaud at the same + time: applaud, for the justice of her determination, which will confirm + all your worthy house in the opinion you had conceived of her unequalled + merit; and regret, because I have but too much reason to apprehend, as + well by that, as by the report of a gentleman just come from her, that she + is in a declining way, as to her health, that her thoughts are very + differently employed than on a continuance here. + </p> + <p> + The enclosed letter she thought fit to send to me unsealed, that, after I + had perused it, I might forward it to you: and this is the reason it is + superscribed by myself, and sealed with my seal. It is very full and + peremptory; but as she had been pleased, in a letter to me, dated the 23d + instant, (as soon as she could hold a pen,) to give me more ample reasons + why she could not comply with your pressing requests, as well as mine, I + will transcribe some of the passages in that letter, which will give one + of the wickedest men in the world, (if he sees them,) reason to think + himself one of the most unhappy, in the loss of so incomparable a wife as + he might have gloried in, had he not been so superlatively wicked. These + are the passages. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[See, for these passages, Miss Harlowe's letter, No. XLI. of this volume, + dated July 23, marked with a turned comma, thus '] +</pre> + <p> + And now, Ladies, you have before you my beloved friend's reasons for her + refusal of a man unworthy of the relation he bears to so many excellent + persons: and I will add, [for I cannot help it,] that the merit and rank + of the person considered, and the vile manner of his proceedings, there + never was a greater villany committed: and since she thinks her first and + only fault cannot be expiated but by death, I pray to God daily, and will + hourly from the moment I shall hear of that sad catastrophe, that He will + be pleased to make him the subject of His vengeance, in some such way, as + that all who know of his perfidious crime, may see the hand of Heaven in + the punishment of it! + </p> + <p> + You will forgive me, Ladies: I love not mine own soul better than I do + Miss Clarissa Harlowe. And the distresses she has gone through; the + persecution she suffers from all her friends; the curse she lies under, + for his sake, from her implacable father; her reduced health and + circumstances, from high health and affluence; and that execrable arrest + and confinement, which have deepened all her other calamities, [and which + must be laid at his door, as it was the act of his vile agents, that, + whether from his immediate orders or not, naturally flowed from his + preceding baseness;] the sex dishonoured in the eye of the world, in the + person of one of the greatest ornaments of it; the unmanly methods, + whatever they were, [for I know not all as yet,] by which he compassed her + ruin; all these considerations join to justify my warmth, and my + execrations of a man whom I think excluded by his crimes from the benefit + even of christian forgiveness—and were you to see all she writes, + and to know the admirable talents she is mistress of, you yourselves would + join with me to admire her, and execrate him. + </p> + <p> + Believe me to be, with a high sense of your merits, + </p> + <p> + Dear Ladies, Your most obedient and humble servant, ANNA HOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LVI + </h2> + <p> + MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE FRIDAY, JULY 28. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST YOUNG LADY, + </p> + <p> + I have the consolation to tell you that my son is once again in a hopeful + way, as to his health. He desires his duty to you. He is very low and + weak. And so am I. But this is the first time that I have been able, for + several days past, to sit up to write, or I would not have been so long + silent. + </p> + <p> + Your letter to your sister is received and answered. You have the answer + by this time, I suppose. I wish it may be to your satisfaction: but am + afraid it will not: for, by Betty Barnes, I find they were in a great + ferment on receiving your's, and much divided whether it should be + answered or not. They will not yet believe that you are so ill, as [to my + infinite concern] I find you are. What passed between Miss Harlowe and + Miss Howe has been, as I feared it would be, an aggravation. + </p> + <p> + I showed Betty two or three passages in your letter to me; and she seemed + moved, and said, She would report them favourably, and would procure me a + visit from Miss Harlowe, if I would promise to show the same to her. But I + have heard no more of that. + </p> + <p> + Methinks, I am sorry you refuse the wicked man: but doubt not, + nevertheless, that your motives for doing so are more commendable than my + wishes that you would not. But as you would be resolved, as I may say, on + life, if you gave way to such a thought; and as I have so much interest in + your recovery; I cannot forbear showing this regard to myself; and to ask + you, If you cannot get over your just resentments?— But I dare say + no more on this subject. + </p> + <p> + What a dreadful thing indeed was it for my dearest tender young lady to be + arrested in the streets of London!—How does my heart go over again + and again for you, what your's must have suffered at that time!—Yet + this, to such a mind as your's, must be light, compared to what you had + suffered before. + </p> + <p> + O my dearest Miss Clary, how shall we know what to pray for, when we pray, + but that God's will may be done, and that we may be resigned to it! + —When at nine years old, and afterwards at eleven, you had a + dangerous fever, how incessantly did we grieve, and pray, and put up our + vows to the Throne of Grace, for your recovery!—For all our lives + were bound up in your life—yet now, my dear, as it has proved, + [especially if we are soon to lose you,] what a much more desirable event, + both for you and for us, would it have been, had we then lost you! + </p> + <p> + A sad thing to say! But as it is in pure love to you that I say it, and in + full conviction that we are not always fit to be our own choosers, I hope + it may be excusable; and the rather, as the same reflection will naturally + lead both you and me to acquiesce under the dispensation; since we are + assured that nothing happens by chance; and the greatest good may, for + aught we know, be produced from the heaviest evils. + </p> + <p> + I am glad you are with such honest people; and that you have all your + effects restored. How dreadfully have you been used, that one should be + glad of such a poor piece of justice as that! + </p> + <p> + Your talent at moving the passions is always hinted at; and this Betty of + your sister's never comes near me that she is not full of it. But, as you + say, whom has it moved, that you wished to move? Yet, were it not for this + unhappy notion, I am sure your mother would relent. Forgive me, my dear + Miss Clary; for I must try one way to be convinced if my opinion be not + just. But I will not tell you what that is, unless it succeeds. I will + try, in pure duty and love to them, as to you. + </p> + <p> + May Heaven be your support in all your trials, is the constant prayer, my + dearest young lady, of + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate friend and servant, JUDITH NORTON. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LVII + </h2> + <p> + MRS. NORTON, TO MRS. HARLOWE FRIDAY, JULY 28. + </p> + <p> + HONOURED MADAM, + </p> + <p> + Being forbid (without leave) to send you any thing I might happen to + receive from my beloved Miss Clary, and so ill, that I cannot attend you + to ask your leave, I give you this trouble, to let you know that I have + received a letter from her; which, I think, I should hereafter be held + inexcusable, as things may happen, if I did not desire permission to + communicate to you, and that as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + Applications have been made to the dear young lady from Lord M., from the + two ladies his sisters, and from both his nieces, and from the wicked man + himself, to forgive and marry him. This, in noble indignation for the + usage she has received from him, she has absolutely refused. And perhaps, + Madam, if you and the honoured family should be of opinion that to comply + with their wishes is now the properest measure that can be taken, the + circumstances of things may require your authority or advice, to induce + her to change her mind. + </p> + <p> + I have reason to believe that one motive for her refusal is her full + conviction that she shall not long be a trouble to any body; and so she + would not give a husband a right to interfere with her family, in relation + to the estate her grandfather devised to her. But of this, however, I have + not the least intimation from her. Nor would she, I dare say, mention it + as a reason, having still stronger reasons, from his vile treatment of + her, to refuse him. + </p> + <p> + The letter I have received will show how truly penitent the dear creature + is; and, if I have your permission, I will send it sealed up, with a copy + of mine, to which it is an answer. But as I resolve upon this step without + her knowledge, [and indeed I do,] I will not acquaint her with it, unless + it be attended with desirable effects: because, otherwise, besides making + me incur her displeasure, it might quite break her already half-broken + heart. I am, + </p> + <p> + Honoured Madam, Your dutiful and ever-obliged servant, JUDITH NORTON. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LVIII + </h2> + <p> + MRS. HARLOWE, TO MRS. JUDITH NORTON SUNDAY, JULY 30. + </p> + <p> + We all know your virtuous prudence, worthy woman: we all do. But your + partiality to this your rash favourite is likewise known. And we are no + less acquainted with the unhappy body's power of painting her distresses + so as to pierce a stone. + </p> + <p> + Every one is of opinion that the dear naughty creature is working about to + be forgiven and received: and for this reason it is that Betty has been + forbidden, [not by me, you may be assured!] to mention any more of her + letters; for she did speak to my Bella of some moving passages you read to + her. + </p> + <p> + This will convince you that nothing will be heard in her favour. To what + purpose then should I mention any thing about her?—But you may be + sure that I will, if I can have but one second. However, that is not at + all likely, until we see what the consequences of her crime will be: And + who can tell that?—She may—How can I speak it, and my once + darling daughter unmarried?—She may be with child!—This would + perpetuate her stain. Her brother may come to some harm; which God forbid!—One + child's ruin, I hope, will not be followed by another's murder! + </p> + <p> + As to her grief, and her present misery, whatever it be, she must bear + with it; and it must be short of what I hourly bear for her! Indeed I am + afraid nothing but her being at the last extremity of all will make her + father, and her uncles, and her other friends, forgive her. + </p> + <p> + The easy pardon perverse children meet with, when they have done the + rashest and most rebellious thing they can do, is the reason (as is + pleaded to us every day) that so may follow their example. They depend + upon the indulgent weakness of their parents' tempers, and, in that + dependence, harden their own hearts: and a little humiliation, when they + have brought themselves into the foretold misery, is to be a sufficient + atonement for the greatest perverseness. + </p> + <p> + But for such a child as this [I mention what others hourly say, but what I + must sorrowfully subscribe to] to lay plots and stratagems to deceive her + parents as well as herself! and to run away with a libertine! Can there be + any atonement for her crime? And is she not answerable to God, to us, to + you, and to all the world who knew her, for the abuse of such talents as + she has abused? + </p> + <p> + You say her heart is half-broken: Is it to be wondered at? Was not her sin + committed equally against warning and the light of her own knowledge? + </p> + <p> + That he would now marry her, or that she would refuse him, if she believed + him in earnest, as she has circumstanced herself, is not at all probable; + and were I inclined to believe it, nobody else here would. He values not + his relations; and would deceive them as soon as any others: his aversion + to marriage he has always openly declared; and still occasionally declares + it. But, if he be now in earnest, which every one who knows him must + doubt, which do you think (hating us too as he professes to hate and + despise us all) would be most eligible here, To hear of her death, or of + her marriage to such a vile man? + </p> + <p> + To all of us, yet, I cannot say! For, O my good Mrs. Norton, you know what + a mother's tenderness for the child of her heart would make her choose, + notwithstanding all that child's faults, rather than lose her for ever! + </p> + <p> + But I must sail with the tide; my own judgment also joining with the + general resentment; or I should make the unhappiness of the more worthy + still greater, [my dear Mr. Harlowe's particularly;] which is already more + than enough to make them unhappy for the remainder of their days. This I + know; if I were to oppose the rest, our son would fly out to find this + libertine; and who could tell what would be the issue of that with such a + man of violence and blood as that Lovelace is known to be? + </p> + <p> + All I can expect to prevail for her is, that in a week, or so, Mr. Brand + may be sent up to inquire privately about her present state and way of + life, and to see she is not altogether destitute: for nothing she writes + herself will be regarded. + </p> + <p> + Her father indeed has, at her earnest request, withdrawn the curse, which, + in a passion, he laid upon her, at her first wicked flight from us. But + Miss Howe, [it is a sad thing, Mrs. Norton, to suffer so many ways at + once,] had made matters so difficult by her undue liberties with us all, + as well by speech in all companies, as by letters written to my Bella, + that we could hardly prevail upon him to hear her letter read. + </p> + <p> + These liberties of Miss Howe with us; the general cry against us abroad + wherever we are spoken of; and the visible, and not seldom audible, + disrespectfulness, which high and low treat us with to our faces, as we go + to and from church, and even at church, (for no where else have we the + heart to go,) as if none of us had been regarded but upon her account; and + as if she were innocent, we all in fault; are constant aggravations, you + must needs think, to the whole family. + </p> + <p> + She has made my lot heavy, I am sure, that was far from being light + before!—To tell you truth, I am enjoined not to receive any thing of + her's, from any hand, without leave. Should I therefore gratify my + yearnings after her, so far as to receive privately the letter you + mention, what would the case be, but to torment myself, without being able + to do her good?—And were it to be known—Mr. Harlowe is so + passionate—And should it throw his gout into his stomach, as her + rash flight did—Indeed, indeed, I am very unhappy!—For, O my + good woman, she is my child still!—But unless it were more in my + power—Yet do I long to see the letter—you say it tells of her + present way and circumstances. The poor child, who ought to be in + possession of thousands!—And will!—For her father will be a + faithful steward for her.—But it must be in his own way, and at his + own time. + </p> + <p> + And is she really ill?—so very ill?—But she ought to sorrow—she + has given a double measure of it. + </p> + <p> + But does she really believe she shall not long trouble us?—But, O my + Norton!—She must, she will, long trouble us—For can she think + her death, if we should be deprived of her, will put an end to our + afflictions?—Can it be thought that the fall of such a child will + not be regretted by us to the last hour of our lives? + </p> + <p> + But, in the letter you have, does she, without reserve, express her + contrition? Has she in it no reflecting hints? Does she not aim at + extenuations?—If I were to see it, will it not shock me so much, + that my apparent grief may expose me to harshnesses?—Can it be + contrived— + </p> + <p> + But to what purpose?—Don't send it—I charge you don't—I + dare not see it— + </p> + <p> + Yet— + </p> + <p> + But alas!— + </p> + <p> + Oh! forgive the almost distracted mother! You can.—You know how to + allow for all this—so I will let it go.—I will not write over + again this part of my letter. + </p> + <p> + But I choose not to know more of her than is communicated to us all— + no more than I dare own I have seen—and what some of them may rather + communicate to me, than receive from me: and this for the sake of my + outward quiet: although my inward peace suffers more and more by the + compelled reserve. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I was forced to break off. But I will now try to conclude my long letter. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry you are ill. But if you were well, I could not, for your own + sake, wish you to go up, as Betty tells us you long to do. If you went, + nothing would be minded that came from you. As they already think you too + partial in her favour, your going up would confirm it, and do yourself + prejudice, and her no good. And as every body values you here, I advise + you not to interest yourself too warmly in her favour, especially before + my Bella's Betty, till I can let you know a proper time. Yet to forbid you + to love the dear naughty creature, who can? O my Norton! you must love + her!—And so must I! + </p> + <p> + I send you five guineas, to help you in your present illness, and your + son's; for it must have lain heavy upon you. What a sad, sad thing, my + dear good woman, that all your pains, and all my pains, for eighteen or + nineteen years together, have, in so few months, been rendered thus + deplorably vain! Yet I must be always your friend, and pity you, for the + very reason that I myself deserve every one's pity. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I may find an opportunity to pay you a visit, as in your illness; + and then may weep over the letter you mention with you. But, for the + future, write nothing to me about the poor girl that you think may not be + communicated to us all. + </p> + <p> + And I charge you, as you value my friendship, as you wish my peace, not to + say any thing of a letter you have from me, either to the naughty one, or + to any body else. It was with some little relief (the occasion given) to + write to you, who must, in so particular a manner, share my affliction. A + mother, Mrs. Norton, cannot forget her child, though that child could + abandon her mother; and, in so doing, run away with all her mother's + comforts!—As I truly say is the case of + </p> + <p> + Your unhappy friend, CHARLOTTE HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LIX + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. JUDITH NORTON SAT. JULY 29. + </p> + <p> + I congratulate you, my dear Mrs. Norton, with all my heart, on your son's + recovery; which I pray to God, with all your own health, to perfect. + </p> + <p> + I write in some hurry, being apprehensive of the sequence of the hints you + give of some method you propose to try in my favour [with my relations, I + presume, you mean]: but you will not tell me what, you say, if it prove + unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + Now I must beg of you that you will not take any step in my favour, with + which you do not first acquaint me. + </p> + <p> + I have but one request to make to them, besides what is contained in my + letter to my sister; and I would not, methinks, for the sake of their own + future peace of mind, that they should be teased so by your well-meant + kindness, and that of Miss Howe, as to be put upon denying me that. And + why should more be asked for me than I can partake of? More than is + absolutely necessary for my own peace? + </p> + <p> + You suppose I should have my sister's answer to my letter by the time + your's reached my hand. I have it: and a severe one, a very severe one, it + is. Yet, considering my fault in their eyes, and the provocations I am to + suppose they so newly had from my dear Miss Howe, I am to look upon it as + a favour that it was answered at all. I will send you a copy of it soon; + as also of mine, to which it is an answer. + </p> + <p> + I have reason to be very thankful that my father has withdrawn that heavy + malediction, which affected me so much—A parent's curse, my dear + Mrs. Norton! What child could die in peace under a parent's curse? so + literally fulfilled too as this has been in what relates to this life! + </p> + <p> + My heart is too full to touch upon the particulars of my sister's letter. + I can make but one atonement for my fault. May that be accepted! And may + it soon be forgotten, by every dear relation, that there was such an + unhappy daughter, sister, or niece, as Clarissa Harlowe! + </p> + <p> + My cousin Morden was one of those who was so earnest in prayer for my + recovery, at nine and eleven years of age, as you mention. My sister + thinks he will be one of those who wish I never had had a being. But pray, + when he does come, let me hear of it with the first. + </p> + <p> + You think that, were it not for that unhappy notion of my moving talent, + my mother would relent. What would I give to see her once more, and, + although unknown to her, to kiss but the hem of her garment! + </p> + <p> + Could I have thought that the last time I saw her would have been the + last, with what difficulty should I have been torn from her embraced feet!—And + when, screened behind the yew-hedge on the 5th of April last,* I saw my + father, and my uncle Antony, and my brother and sister, how little did I + think that that would be the last time I should ever see them; and, in so + short a space, that so many dreadful evils would befal me! + </p> + <p> + * See Vol. II. Letter XXXVI. + </p> + <p> + But I can write nothing but what must give you trouble. I will therefore, + after repeating my desire that you will not intercede for me but with my + previous consent, conclude with the assurance, that I am, and ever will + be, + </p> + <p> + Your most affectionate and dutiful CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LX + </h2> + <p> + MISS AR. HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF FRIDAY, JULY + 21, LETTER XLV. OF THIS VOLUME.] THURSDAY, JULY 27. + </p> + <p> + O MY UNHAPPY LOST SISTER! + </p> + <p> + What a miserable hand have you made of your romantic and giddy expedition!—I + pity you at my heart. + </p> + <p> + You may well grieve and repent!—Lovelace has left you!—In what + way or circumstances you know best. + </p> + <p> + I wish your conduct had made your case more pitiable. But 'tis your own + seeking! + </p> + <p> + God help you!—For you have not a friend will look upon you!—Poor, + wicked, undone creature!—Fallen, as you are, against warning, + against expostulation, against duty! + </p> + <p> + But it signifies nothing to reproach you. I weep over you. + </p> + <p> + My poor mother!—Your rashness and folly have made her more miserable + than you can be.—Yet she has besought my father to grant your + request. + </p> + <p> + My uncles joined with her: for they thought there was a little more + modesty in your letter than in the letters of your pert advocate: and my + father is pleased to give me leave to write; but only these words for him, + and no more: 'That he withdraws the curse he laid upon you, at the first + hearing of your wicked flight, so far as it is in his power to do it; and + hopes that your present punishment may be all that you will meet with. For + the rest, he will never own you, nor forgive you; and grieves he has such + a daughter in the world.' + </p> + <p> + All this, and more you have deserved from him, and from all of us: But + what have you done to this abandoned libertine, to deserve what you have + met with at his hands?—I fear, I fear, Sister!—But no more!—A + blessed four months' work have you made of it. + </p> + <p> + My brother is now at Edinburgh, sent thither by my father, [though he + knows not this to be the motive,] that he may not meet your triumphant + deluder. + </p> + <p> + We are told he would be glad to marry you: But why, then, did he abandon + you? He had kept you till he was tired of you, no question; and it is not + likely he would wish to have you but upon the terms you have already + without all doubt been his. + </p> + <p> + You ought to advise your friend Miss Howe to concern herself less in your + matters than she does, except she could do it with more decency. She has + written three letters to me: very insolent ones. Your favourer, poor Mrs. + Norton, thinks you know nothing of the pert creature's writing. I hope you + don't. But then the more impertinent the writer. But, believing the fond + woman, I sat down the more readily to answer your letter; and I write with + less severity, I can tell you, than otherwise I should have done, if I had + answered it all. + </p> + <p> + Monday last was your birth-day. Think, poor ungrateful wretch, as you are! + how we all used to keep it; and you will not wonder to be told, that we + ran away from one another that day. But God give you true penitence, if + you have it not already! and it will be true, if it be equal to the shame + and the sorrow you have given us all. + </p> + <p> + Your afflicted sister, ARABELLA HARLOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Your cousin Morden is every day expected in England. He, as well as + others of the family, when he comes to hear what a blessed piece of + work you have made of it, will wish you never had had a being. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE SUNDAY, JULY 30. + </p> + <p> + You have given me great pleasure, my dearest friend, by your approbation + of my reasonings, and of my resolution founded upon them, never to have + Mr. Lovelace. This approbation is so right a thing, give me leave to say, + from the nature of the case, and from the strict honour and true dignity + of mind, which I always admired in my Anna Howe, that I could hardly tell + to what, but to my evil destiny, which of late would not let me please any + body, to attribute the advice you gave me to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + But let not the ill state of my health, and what that may naturally tend + to, sadden you. I have told you, that I will not run away from life, nor + avoid the means that may continue it, if God see fit: and if He do not, + who shall repine at His will! + </p> + <p> + If it shall be found that I have not acted unworthy of your love, and of + my own character, in my greater trials, that will be a happiness to both + on reflection. + </p> + <p> + The shock which you so earnestly advise me to try to get above, was a + shock, the greatest that I could receive. But, my dear, as it was not + occasioned by my fault, I hope I am already got above it. I hope I am. + </p> + <p> + I am more grieved (at times however) for others, than for myself. And so I + ought. For as to myself, I cannot but reflect that I have had an escape, + rather than a loss, in missing Mr. Lovelace for a husband—even had + he not committed the vilest of all outrages. + </p> + <p> + Let any one, who knows my story, collect his character from his behaviour + to me before that outrage; and then judge whether it was in the least + probable that such a man should make me happy. But to collect his + character from his principles with regard to the sex in general, and from + his enterprizes upon many of them, and to consider the cruelty of his + nature, and the sportiveness of his invention, together with the high + opinion he has of himself, it will not be doubted that a wife of his must + have been miserable; and more miserable if she loved him, than she could + have been were she to be indifferent to him. + </p> + <p> + A twelvemonth might very probably have put a period to my life; situated + as I was with my friends; persecuted and harassed as I had been by my + brother and sister; and my very heart torn in pieces by the wilful, and + (as it is now apparent) premeditated suspenses of the man, whose gratitude + I wished to engage, and whose protection I was the more entitled to + expect, as he had robbed me of every other, and reduced me to an absolute + dependence upon himself. Indeed I once thought that it was all his view to + bring me to this, (as he hated my family;) and uncomfortable enough for + me, if it had been all. + </p> + <p> + Can it be thought, my dear, that my heart was not more than half broken + (happy as I was before I knew Mr. Lovelace) by a grievous change in my + circumstances?—Indeed it was. Nor perhaps was the wicked violence + wanting to have cut short, though possibly not so very short, a life that + he has sported with. + </p> + <p> + Had I been his but a month, he must have possessed the estate on which my + relations had set their hearts; the more to their regret, as they hated + him as much as he hated them. + </p> + <p> + Have I not reason, these things considered, to think myself happier + without Mr. Lovelace than I could have been with him?—My will too + unviolated; and very little, nay, not any thing as to him, to reproach + myself with? + </p> + <p> + But with my relations it is otherwise. They indeed deserve to be pitied. + They are, and no doubt will long be, unhappy. + </p> + <p> + To judge of their resentments, and of their conduct, we must put ourselves + in their situation:—and while they think me more in fault than + themselves, (whether my favourers are of their opinion, or not,) and have + a right to judge for themselves, they ought to have great allowances made + for them; my parents especially. They stand at least self-acquitted, (that + I cannot;) and the rather, as they can recollect, to their pain, their + past indulgencies to me, and their unquestionable love. + </p> + <p> + Your partiality for the friend you so much value will not easily let you + come into this way of thinking. But only, my dear, be pleased to consider + the matter in the following light. + </p> + <p> + 'Here was my MOTHER, one of the most prudent persons of her sex, married + into a family, not perhaps so happily tempered as herself; but every one + of which she had the address, for a great while, absolutely to govern as + she pleased by her directing wisdom, at the same time that they knew not + but her prescriptions were the dictates of their own hearts; such a sweet + heart had she of conquering by seeming to yield. Think, my dear, what must + be the pride and the pleasure of such a mother, that in my brother she + could give a son to the family she distinguished with her love, not + unworthy of their wishes; a daughter, in my sister, of whom she had no + reason to be ashamed; and in me a second daughter, whom every body + complimented (such was their partial favour to me) as being the still more + immediate likeness of herself? How, self pleased, could she smile round + upon a family she had so blessed! What compliments were paid her upon the + example she had given us, which was followed with such hopeful effects! + With what a noble confidence could she look upon her dear Mr. Harlowe, as + a person made happy by her; and be delighted to think that nothing but + purity streamed from a fountain so pure! + </p> + <p> + 'Now, my dear, reverse, as I daily do, this charming prospect. See my dear + mother, sorrowing in her closet; endeavouring to suppress her sorrow at + her table, and in those retirements where sorrow was before a stranger: + hanging down her pensive head: smiles no more beaming over her benign + aspect: her virtue made to suffer for faults she could not be guilty of: + her patience continually tried (because she has more of it than any other) + with repetitions of faults she is as much wounded by, as those can be from + whom she so often hears of them: taking to herself, as the fountain-head, + a taint which only had infected one of the under-currents: afraid to open + her lips (were she willing) in my favour, lest it should be thought she + has any bias in her own mind to failings that never could have been + suspected in her: robbed of that pleasing merit, which the mother of + well-nurtured and hopeful children may glory in: every one who visits her, + or is visited by her, by dumb show, and looks that mean more than words + can express, condoling where they used to congratulate: the affected + silence wounding: the compassionating look reminding: the half-suppressed + sigh in them, calling up deeper sighs from her; and their averted eyes, + while they endeavour to restrain the rising tear, provoking tears from + her, that will not be restrained. + </p> + <p> + 'When I consider these things, and, added to these, the pangs that tear in + pieces the stronger heart of my FATHER, because it cannot relieve itself + by those which carry the torturing grief to the eyes of softer spirits: + the overboiling tumults of my impatient and uncontroulable BROTHER, piqued + to the heart of his honour, in the fall of a sister, in whom he once + gloried: the pride of an ELDER SISTER, who had given unwilling way to the + honours paid over her head to one born after her: and, lastly, the + dishonour I have brought upon two UNCLES, who each contended which should + most favour their then happy niece:—When, I say, I reflect upon my + fault in these strong, yet just lights, what room can there be to censure + any body but my unhappy self? and how much reason have I to say, If I + justify myself, mine own heart shall condemn me: if I say I am perfect, it + shall also prove me perverse?' + </p> + <p> + Here permit me to lay down my pen for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + You are very obliging to me, intentionally, I know, when you tell me, it + is in my power to hasten the day of Mr. Hickman's happiness. But yet, give + me leave to say, that I admire this kind assurance less than any other + paragraph of your letter. + </p> + <p> + In the first place you know it is not in my power to say when I can + dismiss my physician; and you should not put the celebration of a marriage + intended by yourself, and so desirable to your mother, upon so precarious + an issue. Nor will I accept of a compliment, which must mean a slight to + her. + </p> + <p> + If any thing could give me a relish for life, after what I have suffered, + it would be the hopes of the continuance of the more than sisterly love, + which has, for years, uninterruptedly bound us together as one mind.—And + why, my dear, should you defer giving (by a tie still stronger) another + friend to one who has so few? + </p> + <p> + I am glad you have sent my letter to Miss Montague. I hope I shall hear no + more of this unhappy man. + </p> + <p> + I had begun the particulars of my tragical story: but it is so painful a + task, and I have so many more important things to do, and, as I apprehend, + so little time to do them in, that, could I avoid it, I would go no + farther in it. + </p> + <p> + Then, to this hour, I know not by what means several of his machinations + to ruin me were brought about; so that some material parts of my sad story + must be defective, if I were to sit down to write it. But I have been + thinking of a way that will answer the end wished for by your mother and + you full as well, perhaps better. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lovelace, it seems, had communicated to his friend Mr. Belford all + that has passed between himself and me, as he went on. Mr. Belford has not + been able to deny it. So that (as we may observe by the way) a poor young + creature, whose indiscretion has given a libertine power over her, has a + reason she little thinks of, to regret her folly; since these wretches, + who have no more honour in one point than in another, scruple not to make + her weakness a part of their triumph to their brother libertines. + </p> + <p> + I have nothing to apprehend of this sort, if I have the justice done me in + his letters which Mr. Belford assures me I have: and therefore the + particulars of my story, and the base arts of this vile man, will, I + think, be best collected from those very letters of his, (if Mr. Belford + can be prevailed upon to communicate them;) to which I dare appeal with + the same truth and fervour as he did, who says—O that one would hear + me! and that mine adversary had written a book!—Surely, I would take + it upon my shoulders, and bind it to me as a crown! for I covered not my + transgressions as Adam, by hiding mine iniquity in my bosom. + </p> + <p> + There is one way which may be fallen upon to induce Mr. Belford to + communicate these letters; since he seems to have (and declares he always + had) a sincere abhorrence of his friend's baseness to me: but that, you'll + say, when you hear it, is a strange one. Nevertheless, I am very earnest + upon it at present. + </p> + <p> + It is no other than this: + </p> + <p> + I think to make Mr. Belford the executor of my last will: [don't be + surprised:] and with this view I permit his visits with the less scruple: + and every time I see him, from his concern for me, am more and more + inclined to do so. If I hold in the same mind, and if he accept the trust, + and will communicate the materials in his power, those, joined with what + you can furnish, will answer the whole end. + </p> + <p> + I know you will start at my notion of such an executor; but pray, my dear, + consider, in my present circumstances, what I can do better, as I am + empowered to make a will, and have considerable matters in my own + disposal. + </p> + <p> + Your mother, I am sure, would not consent that you should take this office + upon you. It might subject Mr. Hickman to the insults of that violent man. + Mrs. Norton cannot, for several reasons respecting herself. My brother + looks upon what I ought to have as his right. My uncle Harlowe is already + one of my trustees (as my cousin Morden is the other) for the estate my + grandfather left me: but you see I could not get from my own family the + few guineas I left behind me at Harlowe-place; and my uncle Antony once + threatened to have my grandfather's will controverted. My father!—To + be sure, my dear, I could not expect that my father would do all I wish + should be done: and a will to be executed by a father for a daughter, + (parts of it, perhaps, absolutely against his own judgment,) carries + somewhat daring and prescriptive in the very word. + </p> + <p> + If indeed my cousin Morden were to come in time, and would undertake this + trust—but even him it might subject to hazards; and the more, as he + is a man of great spirit; and as the other man (of as great) looks upon me + (unprotected as I have long been) as his property. + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Belford, as I have already mentioned, knows every thing that has + passed. He is a man of spirit, and, it seems, as fearless as the other, + with more humane qualities. You don't know, my dear, what instances of + sincere humanity this Mr. Belford has shown, not only on occasion of the + cruel arrest, but on several occasions since. And Mrs. Lovick has taken + pains to inquire after his general character; and hears a very good one of + him, his justice and generosity in all his concerns of meum and tuum, as + they are called: he has a knowledge of law-matters; and has two + executorships upon him at this time, in the discharge of which his honour + is unquestioned. + </p> + <p> + All these reasons have already in a manner determined me to ask this + favour of him; although it will have an odd sound with it to make an + intimate friend of Mr. Lovelace my executor. + </p> + <p> + This is certain: my brother will be more acquiescent a great deal in such + a case with the articles of the will, as he will see that it will be to no + purpose to controvert some of them, which else, I dare say, he would + controvert, or persuade my other friends to do so. And who would involve + an executor in a law-suit, if they could help it?—Which would be the + case, if any body were left, whom my brother could hope to awe or + controul; since my father has possession of all, and is absolutely + governed by him. [Angry spirits, my dear, as I have often seen, will be + overcome by more angry ones, as well as sometimes be disarmed by the meek.]—Nor + would I wish, you may believe, to have effects torn out of my father's + hands: while Mr. Belford, who is a man of fortune, (and a good economist + in his own affairs) would have no interest but to do justice. + </p> + <p> + Then he exceedingly presses for some occasion to show his readiness to + serve me: and he would be able to manage his violent friend, over whom he + has more influence than any other person. + </p> + <p> + But after all, I know not if it were not more eligible by far, that my + story, and myself too, should be forgotten as soon as possible. And of + this I shall have the less doubt, if the character of my parents [you will + forgive my, my dear] cannot be guarded against the unqualified bitterness + which, from your affectionate zeal for me, has sometimes mingled with your + ink—a point that ought, and (I insist upon it) must be well + considered of, if any thing be done which your mother and you are desirous + to have done. The generality of the world is too apt to oppose a duty—and + general duties, my dear, ought not to be weakened by the justification of + a single person, however unhappily circumstanced. + </p> + <p> + My father has been so good as to take off the heavy malediction he laid me + under. I must be now solicitous for a last blessing; and that is all I + shall presume to petition for. My sister's letter, communicating this + grace, is a severe one: but as she writes to me as from every body, how + could I expect it to be otherwise? + </p> + <p> + If you set out to-morrow, this letter cannot reach you till you get to + your aunt Harman's. I shall therefore direct it thither, as Mr. Hickman + instructed me. + </p> + <p> + I hope you will have met with no inconveniencies in your little journey + and voyage; and that you will have found in good health all whom you wish + to see well. + </p> + <p> + If your relations in the little island join their solicitations with your + mother's commands, to have your nuptials celebrated before you leave them, + let me beg of you, my dear, to oblige them. How grateful will the + notification that you have done so be to + </p> + <p> + Your ever faithful and affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HARLOWE SATURDAY, JULY 29. + </p> + <p> + I repine not, my dear Sister, at the severity you have been pleased to + express in the letter you favoured me with; because that severity was + accompanied with the grace I had petitioned for; and because the + reproaches of mine own heart are stronger than any other person's + reproaches can be: and yet I am not half so culpable as I am imagined to + be: as would be allowed, if all the circumstances of my unhappy story were + known: and which I shall be ready to communicate to Mrs. Norton, if she be + commissioned to inquire into them; or to you, my Sister, if you can have + patience to hear them. + </p> + <p> + I remembered with a bleeding heart what day the 24th of July was. I began + with the eve of it; and I passed the day itself—as it was fit I + should pass it. Nor have I any comfort to give to my dear and + ever-honoured father and mother, and to you, my Bella, but this—that, + as it was the first unhappy anniversary of my birth, in all probability, + it will be the last. + </p> + <p> + Believe me, my dear Sister, I say not this merely to move compassion, but + from the best grounds. And as, on that account, I think it of the highest + importance to my peace of mind to obtain one farther favour, I would + choose to owe to your intercession, as my sister, the leave I beg, to + address half a dozen lines (with the hope of having them answered as I + wish) to either or to both my honoured parents, to beg their last + blessing. + </p> + <p> + This blessing is all the favour I have now to ask: it is all I dare to + ask: yet am I afraid to rush at once, though by letter, into the presence + of either. And if I did not ask it, it might seem to be owing to + stubbornness and want of duty, when my heart is all humility penitence. + Only, be so good as to embolden me to attempt this task— write but + this one line, 'Clary Harlowe, you are at liberty to write as you desire.' + This will be enough—and shall, to my last hour, be acknowledged as + the greatest favour, by + </p> + <p> + Your truly penitent sister, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXIII + </h2> + <p> + MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE MONDAY, JULY 31. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST YOUNG LADY, + </p> + <p> + I must indeed own that I took the liberty to write to your mother, + offering to enclose to her, if she gave me leave, your's of the 24th: by + which I thought she would see what was the state of your mind; what the + nature of your last troubles was from the wicked arrest; what the people + are where you lodge; what proposals were made you from Lord M.'s family; + also your sincere penitence; and how much Miss Howe's writing to them, in + the terms she wrote in, disturbed you—but, as you have taken the + matter into your own hands, and forbid me, in your last, to act in this + nice affair unknown to you, I am glad the letter was not required of me—and + indeed it may be better that the matter lie wholly between you and them; + since my affection for you is thought to proceed from partiality. + </p> + <p> + They would choose, no doubt, that you should owe to themselves, and not to + my humble mediation, the favour for which you so earnestly sue, and of + which I would not have your despair: for I will venture to assure you, + that your mother is ready to take the first opportunity to show her + maternal tenderness: and this I gather from several hints I am not at + liberty to explain myself upon. + </p> + <p> + I long to be with you, now I am better, and now my son is in a fair way of + recovery. But is it not hard to have it signified to me that at present it + will not be taken well if I go?—I suppose, while the reconciliation, + which I hope will take place, is negotiating by means of the + correspondence so newly opened between you and your sister. But if you + will have me come, I will rely on my good intentions, and risque every + one's displeasure. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brand has business in town; to solicit for a benefice which it is + expected the incumbent will be obliged to quit for a better preferment: + and, when there, he is to inquire privately after your way of life, and of + your health. + </p> + <p> + He is a very officious young man; and, but that your uncle Harlowe (who + has chosen him for this errand) regards him as an oracle, your mother had + rather any body else had been sent. + </p> + <p> + He is one of those puzzling, over-doing gentlemen, who think they see + farther into matters than any body else, and are fond of discovered + mysteries where there are none, in order to be thought shrewd men. + </p> + <p> + I can't say I like him, either in the pulpit or out of it: I, who had a + father one of the soundest divines and finest scholars in the kingdom; who + never made an ostentation of what he knew; but loved and venerated the + gospel he taught, preferring it to all other learning: to be obliged to + hear a young man depart from his text as soon as he has named it, (so + contrary, too, to the example set him by his learned and worthy + principal,* when his health permits him to preach;) and throwing about, to + a christian and country audience, scraps of Latin and Greek from the Pagan + Classics; and not always brought in with great propriety neither, (if I am + to judge by the only way given me to judge of them, by the English he puts + them into;) is an indication of something wrong, either in his head, or + his heart, or both; for, otherwise, his education at the university must + have taught him better. You know, my dear Miss Clary, the honour I have + for the cloth: it is owing to that, that I say what I do. + </p> + <p> + * Dr. Lewen. + </p> + <p> + I know not the day he is to set out; and, as his inquiries are to be + private, be pleased to take no notice of this intelligence. I have no + doubt that your life and conversation are such as may defy the scrutinies + of the most officious inquirer. + </p> + <p> + I am just now told that you have written a second letter to your sister: + but am afraid they will wait for Mr. Brand's report, before farther favour + will be obtained from them; for they will not yet believe you are so ill + as I fear you are. + </p> + <p> + But you would soon find that you have an indulgent mother, were she at + liberty to act according to her own inclination. And this gives me great + hopes that all will end well at last: for I verily think you are in the + right way to a reconciliation. God give a blessing to it, and restore your + health, and you to all your friends, prays + </p> + <p> + Your ever affectionate, JUDITH NORTON. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Your mother has privately sent me five guineas: she is pleased to say to + help us in the illness we have been afflicted with; but, more + likely, that I might send them to you, as from myself. I hope, + therefore, I may send them up, with ten more I have still left. + + I will send you word of Mr. Morden's arrival, the moment I know it. + +If agreeable, I should be glad to know all that passes between your + relations and you. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON WEDNESDAY, AUG. 2. + </p> + <p> + You give me, my dear Mrs. Norton, great pleasure in hearing of your's and + your son's recovery. May you continue, for many, many years, a blessing to + each other! + </p> + <p> + You tell me that you did actually write to my mother, offering to enclose + to her mine of the 24th past: and you say it was not required of you. That + is to say, although you cover it over as gently as you could, that your + offer was rejected; which makes it evident that no plea could be made for + me. Yet, you bid me hope, that the grace I sued for would, in time, be + granted. + </p> + <p> + The grace I then sued for was indeed granted; but you are afraid, you say, + that they will wait for Mr. Brand's report, before favour will be obtained + in return to the second letter which I wrote to my sister; and you add, + that I have an indulgent mother, were she at liberty to act according to + her own inclination; and that all will end well at last. + </p> + <p> + But what, my dear Mrs. Norton, what is the grace I sue for in my second + letter?—It is not that they will receive me into favour—If + they think it is, they are mistaken. I do not, I cannot expect that. Nor, + as I have often said, should I, if they would receive me, bear to live in + the eye of those dear friends whom I have so grievously offended. 'Tis + only, simply, a blessing I ask: a blessing to die with; not to lie with.—Do + they know that? and do they know that their unkindness will perhaps + shorten my date; so that their favour, if ever they intend to grant it, + may come too late? + </p> + <p> + Once more, I desire you not to think of coming to me. I have no uneasiness + now, but what proceeds from the apprehension of seeing a man I would not + see for the world, if I could help it; and from the severity of my nearest + and dearest relations: a severity entirely their own, I doubt; for you + tell me that my brother is at Edinburgh! You would therefore heighten + their severity, and make yourself enemies besides, if you were to come to + me—Don't you see you would? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brand may come, if he will. He is a clergyman, and must mean well; or + I must think so, let him say of me what he will. All my fear is, that, as + he knows I am in disgrace with a family whose esteem he is desirous to + cultivate; and as he has obligations to my uncle Harlowe and to my father; + he will be but a languid acquitter—not that I am afraid of what he, + or any body in the world, can hear as to my conduct. You may, my revered + and dear friend, indeed you may, rest satisfied, that that is such as may + warrant me to challenge the inquiries of the most officious. + </p> + <p> + I will send you copies of what passes, as you desire, when I have an + answer to my second letter. I now begin to wish that I had taken the heart + to write to my father himself; or to my mother, at least; instead of to my + sister; and yet I doubt my poor mother can do nothing for me of herself. A + strong confederacy, my dear Mrs. Norton, (a strong confederacy indeed!) + against a poor girl, their daughter, sister, niece! —My brother, + perhaps, got it renewed before he left them. He needed not—his work + is done; and more than done. + </p> + <p> + Don't afflict yourself about money-matters on my account. I have no + occasion for money. I am glad my mother was so considerate to you. I was + in pain for you on the same subject. But Heaven will not permit so good a + woman to want the humble blessings she was always satisfied with. I wish + every individual of our family were but as rich as you!—O my mamma + Norton, you are rich! you are rich indeed!—the true riches are such + content as you are blessed with.—And I hope in God that I am in the + way to be rich too. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my ever-indulgent friend. You say all will be at last happy—and + I know it will—I confide that it will, with as much security, as you + may, that I will be, to my last hour, + </p> + <p> + Your ever grateful and affectionate CL. HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXV + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. TUESDAY, AUG. 1. + </p> + <p> + I am most confoundedly chagrined and disappointed: for here, on Saturday, + arrived a messenger from Miss Howe, with a letter to my cousins;* which I + knew nothing of till yesterday; when Lady Sarah and Lady Betty were + procured to be here, to sit in judgment upon it with the old Peer, and my + two kinswomen. And never was bear so miserably baited as thy poor friend!—And + for what?—why for the cruelty of Miss Harlowe: For have I committed + any new offence? and would I not have re-instated myself in her favour + upon her own terms, if I could? And is it fair to punish me for what is my + misfortune, and not my fault? Such event-judging fools as I have for my + relations! I am ashamed of them all. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter LV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + In that of Miss Howe was enclosed one to her from Miss Harlowe,* to be + transmitted to my cousins, containing a final rejection of me; and that in + very vehement and positive terms; yet she pretends that, in this + rejection, she is governed more by principle than passion—[D——d + lie, as ever was told!] and, as a proof that she is, says, that she can + forgive me, and does, on this one condition, that I will never molest her + more—the whole letter so written as to make herself more admired, me + more detested. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter XLI. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + What we have been told of the agitations and workings, and sighings and + sobbings, of the French prophets among us formerly, was nothing at all to + the scene exhibited by these maudlin souls, at the reading of these + letters; and of some affecting passages extracted from another of my fair + implacable's to Miss Howe—such lamentations for the loss of so + charming a relation! such applaudings of her virtue, of her exaltedness of + soul and sentiment! such menaces of disinherisons! I, not needing their + reproaches to be stung to the heart with my own reflections, and with the + rage of disappointment; and as sincerely as any of them admiring her— + 'What the devil,' cried I, 'is all this for? Is it not enough to be + despised and rejected? Can I help her implacable spirit? Would I not + repair the evils I have made her suffer?'—Then was I ready to curse + them all, herself and Miss Howe for company: and heartily swore that she + should yet be mine. + </p> + <p> + I now swear it over again to thee—'Were her death to follow in a + week after the knot is tied, by the Lord of Heaven, it shall be tied, and + she shall die a Lovelace!'—Tell her so, if thou wilt: but, at the + same time, tell her that I have no view to her fortune; and that I will + solemnly resign that, and all pretensions to it, in whose favour she + pleases, if she resign life issueless.—I am not so low-minded a + wretch, as to be guilty of any sordid views to her fortune.—Let her + judge for herself, then, whether it be not for her honour rather to leave + this world a Lovelace than a Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + But do not think I will entirely rest a cause so near my heart upon an + advocate who so much more admires his client's adversary than his client. + I will go to town, in a few days, in order to throw myself at her feet: + and I will carry with me, or have at hand, a resolute, well-prepared + parson; and the ceremony shall be performed, let what will be the + consequence. + </p> + <p> + But if she will permit me to attend her for this purpose at either of the + churches mentioned in the license, (which she has by her, and, thank + Heaven! has not returned me with my letters,) then will I not disturb her; + but meet her at the altar in either church, and will engage to bring my + two cousins to attend her, and even Lady Sarah and Lady Betty; and my Lord + M. in person shall give her to me. + </p> + <p> + Or, if it be still more agreeable to her, I will undertake that either + Lady Sarah or Lady Betty, or both, shall go to town and attend her down; + and the marriage shall be celebrated in their presence, and in that of + Lord M., either here or elsewhere, at her own choice. + </p> + <p> + Do not play me booty, Belford; but sincerely and warmly use all the + eloquence thou art master of, to prevail upon her to choose one of these + three methods. One of them she must choose—by my soul, she must. + </p> + <p> + Here is Charlotte tapping at my closet-door for admittance. What a devil + wants Charlotte?—I will hear no more reproaches!—Come in, + girl! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + My cousin Charlotte, finding me writing on with too much earnestness to + have any regard for politeness to her, and guessing at my subject, + besought me to let her see what I had written. + </p> + <p> + I obliged her. And she was so highly pleased on seeing me so much in + earnest, that she offered, and I accepted her offer, to write a letter to + Miss Harlowe; with permission to treat me in it as she thought fit. + </p> + <p> + I shall enclose a copy of her letter. + </p> + <p> + When she had written it, she brought it to me, with apologies for the + freedom taken with me in it: but I excused it; and she was ready to give + me a kiss for it; telling her I had hopes of success from it; and that I + thought she had luckily hit it off. + </p> + <p> + Every one approves of it, as well as I; and is pleased with me for so + patiently submitting to be abused, and undertaken for.—If it do not + succeed, all the blame will be thrown upon the dear creature's + perverseness: her charitable or forgiving disposition, about which she + makes such a parade, will be justly questioned; and the piety, of which + she is now in full possession, will be transferred to me. + </p> + <p> + Putting, therefore, my whole confidence in this letter, I postpone all my + other alternatives, as also my going to town, till my empress send an + answer to my cousin Montague. + </p> + <p> + But if she persist, and will not promise to take time to consider of the + matter, thou mayest communicate to her what I had written, as above, + before my cousin entered; and, if she be still perverse, assure her, that + I must and will see her—but this with all honour, all humility: and, + if I cannot move her in my favour, I will then go abroad, and perhaps + never more return to England. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry thou art, at this critical time, so busily employed, as thou + informest me thou art, in thy Watford affairs, and in preparing to do + Belton justice. If thou wantest my assistance in the latter, command me. + Though engrossed by this perverse beauty, and plagued as I am, I will obey + thy first summons. + </p> + <p> + I have great dependence upon thy zeal and thy friendship: hasten back to + her, therefore, and resume a task so interesting to me, that it is equally + the subject of my dreams, as of my waking hours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXVI + </h2> + <p> + MISS MONTAGUE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TUESDAY, AUG. 1. + </p> + <p> + DEAREST MADAM, + </p> + <p> + All our family is deeply sensible of the injuries you have received at the + hands of one of it, whom you only can render in any manner worthy of the + relation he stands in to us all: and if, as an act of mercy and charity, + the greatest your pious heart can show, you will be pleased to look over + his past wickedness and ingratitude, and suffer yourself to be our + kinswoman, you will make us the happiest family in the world: and I can + engage, that Lord M., and Lady Sarah Sadleir, and Lady Betty Lawrance, and + my sister, who are all admirers of your virtues, and of your nobleness of + mind, will for ever love and reverence you, and do every thing in all + their powers to make you amends for what you have suffered from Mr. + Lovelace. This, Madam, we should not, however, dare to petition for, were + we not assured, that Mr. Lovelace is most sincerely sorry for his past + vileness to you; and that he will, on his knees, beg your pardon, and vow + eternal love and honour to you. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, my dearest cousin, [how you will charm us all, if this + agreeable style may be permitted!] for all our sakes, for his soul's sake, + [you must, I am sure, be so good a lady, as to wish to save a soul!] and + allow me to say, for your own fame's sake, condescend to our joint + request: and if, by way of encouragement, you will but say you will be + glad to see, and to be as much known personally, as you are by fame, to + Charlotte Montague, I will, in two days' time from the receipt of your + permission, wait upon you with or without my sister, and receive your + farther commands. + </p> + <p> + Let me, our dearest cousin, [we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of + calling you so; let me] entreat you to give me your permission for my + journey to London; and put it in the power of Lord M. and of the ladies of + the family, to make you what reparation they can make you, for the + injuries which a person of the greatest merit in the world has received + from one of the most audacious men in it; and you will infinitely oblige + us all; and particularly her, who repeatedly presumes to style herself + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate cousin, and obliged servant, CHARLOTTE MONTAGUE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY MORNING, AUG. 3. SIX + O'CLOCK. + </p> + <p> + I have been so much employed in my own and Belton's affairs, that I could + not come to town till last night; having contented myself with sending to + Mrs. Lovick, to know, from time to time, the state of the lady's health; + of which I received but very indifferent accounts, owing, in a great + measure, to letters or advices brought her from her implacable family. + </p> + <p> + I have now completed my own affairs; and, next week, shall go to Epsom, to + endeavour to put Belton's sister into possession of his own house for him: + after which, I shall devote myself wholly to your service, and to that of + the lady. + </p> + <p> + I was admitted to her presence last night; and found her visibly altered + for the worse. When I went home, I had your letter of Tuesday last put + into my hands. Let me tell thee, Lovelace, that I insist upon the + performance of thy engagement to me that thou wilt not personally molest + her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Belford dates again on Thursday morning, ten o'clock; and gives an + account of a conversation which he had just held with the Lady upon + the subject of Miss Montague's letter to her, preceding, and upon + Mr. Lovelace's alternatives, as mentioned in Letter LXV., which Mr. + Belford supported with the utmost earnestness. But, as the result + of this conversation will be found in the subsequent letters, Mr. + Belford's pleas and arguments in favour of his friend, and the + Lady's answers, are omitted.] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXVIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS MONTAGUE THURSDAY, AUG. 3. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I am infinitely obliged to you for your kind and condescending letter. A + letter, however, which heightens my regrets, as it gives me a new instance + of what a happy creature I might have been in an alliance so much approved + of by such worthy ladies; and which, on their accounts, and on that of + Lord M. would have been so reputable to myself, and was once so desirable. + </p> + <p> + But indeed, indeed, Madam, my heart sincerely repulses the man who, + descended from such a family, could be guilty, first, of such premeditated + violence as he has been guilty of; and, as he knows, farther intended me, + on the night previous to the day he set out for Berkshire; and, next, + pretending to spirit, could be so mean as to wish to lift into that family + a person he was capable of abasing into a companionship with the most + abandoned of her sex. + </p> + <p> + Allow me then, dear Madam, to declare with favour, that I think I never + could be ranked with the ladies of a family so splendid and so noble, if, + by vowing love and honour at the altar to such a violator, I could + sanctify, as I may say, his unprecedented and elaborate wickedness. + </p> + <p> + Permit me, however, to make one request to my good Lord M., and to Lady + Betty, and Lady Sarah, and to your kind self, and your sister.—It + is, that you will all be pleased to join your authority and interests to + prevail upon Mr. Lovelace not to molest me farther. + </p> + <p> + Be pleased to tell him, that, if I am designed for life, it will be very + cruel in him to attempt to hunt me out of it; for I am determined never to + see him more, if I can help it. The more cruel, because he knows that I + have nobody to defend me from him: nor do I wish to engage any body to his + hurt, or to their own. + </p> + <p> + If I am, on the other hand, destined for death, it will be no less cruel, + if he will not permit me to die in peace—since a peaceable and happy + end I wish him; indeed I do. + </p> + <p> + Every worldly good attend you, dear Madam, and every branch of the + honourable family, is the wish of one, whose misfortune it is that she is + obliged to disclaim any other title than that of, + </p> + <p> + Dear Madam, Your and their obliged and faithful servant, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY AFTERNOON, AUG. 3. + </p> + <p> + I am just now agreeably surprised by the following letter, delivered into + my hands by a messenger from the lady. The letter she mentions, as + enclosed,* I have returned, without taking a copy of it. The contents of + it will soon be communicated to you, I presume, by other hands. They are + an absolute rejection of thee—Poor Lovelace! + </p> + <p> + * See Miss Harlowe's Letter, No. LXVIII. + </p> + <p> + TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. AUG. 3. + </p> + <p> + SIR, + </p> + <p> + You have frequently offered to oblige me in any thing that shall be within + your power: and I have such an opinion of you, as to be willing to hope + that, at the times you made these offers, you meant more than mere + compliment. + </p> + <p> + I have therefore two requests to make to you: the first I will now + mention; the other, if this shall be complied with, otherwise not. + </p> + <p> + It behoves me to leave behind me such an account as may clear up my + conduct to several of my friends who will not at present concern + themselves about me: and Miss Howe, and her mother, are very solicitous + that I will do so. + </p> + <p> + I am apprehensive that I shall not have time to do this; and you will not + wonder that I have less and less inclination to set about such a painful + task; especially as I find myself unable to look back with patience on + what I have suffered; and shall be too much discomposed by the + retrospection, were I obliged to make it, to proceed with the requisite + temper in a task of still greater importance which I have before me. + </p> + <p> + It is very evident to me that your wicked friend has given you, from time + to time, a circumstantial account of all his behaviour to me, and devices + against me; and you have more than once assured me, that he has done my + character all the justice I could wish for, both by writing and speech. + </p> + <p> + Now, Sir, if I may have a fair, a faithful specimen from his letters or + accounts to you, written upon some of the most interesting occasions, I + shall be able to judge whether there will or will not be a necessity for + me, for my honour's sake, to enter upon the solicited task. + </p> + <p> + You may be assured, from my enclosed answer to the letter which Miss + Montague has honoured me with, (and which you'll be pleased to return me + as soon as read,) that it is impossible for me ever to think of your + friend in the way I am importuned to think of him: he cannot therefore + receive any detriment from the requested specimen: and I give you my + honour, that no use shall be made of it to his prejudice, in law, or + otherwise. And that it may not, after I am no more, I assure you, that it + is a main part of my view that the passages you shall oblige me with shall + be always in your own power, and not in that of any other person. + </p> + <p> + If, Sir, you think fit to comply with my request, the passages I would + wish to be transcribed (making neither better nor worse of the matter) are + those which he has written to you, on or about the 7th and 8th of June, + when I was alarmed by the wicked pretence of a fire; and what he has + written from Sunday, June 11, to the 19th. And in doing this you will much + oblige + </p> + <p> + Your humble servant, CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Now, Lovelace, since there are no hopes for thee of her returning favour—since + some praise may lie for thy ingenuousness, having neither offered [as more + diminutive-minded libertines would have done] to palliate thy crimes, by + aspersing the lady, or her sex—since she may be made easier by it—since + thou must fare better from thine own pen than from her's—and, + finally, since thy actions have manifested that thy letters are not the + most guilty part of what she knows of thee—I see not why I may not + oblige her, upon her honour, and under the restrictions, and for the + reasons she has given; and this without breach of the confidence due to + friendly communication; especially, as I might have added, since thou + gloriest in thy pen and in thy wickedness, and canst not be ashamed. + </p> + <p> + But, be this as it may, she will be obliged before thy remonstrances or + clamours against it can come; so, pr'ythee now, make the best of it, and + rave not; except for the sake of a pretence against me, and to exercise + thy talent of execration:—and, if thou likest to do so for these + reasons, rave and welcome. + </p> + <p> + I long to know what the second request is: but this I know, that if it be + any thing less than cutting thy throat, or endangering my own neck, I will + certainly comply; and be proud of having it in my power to oblige her. + </p> + <p> + And now I am actually going to be busy in the extracts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXX + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE AUG. 3, 4. + </p> + <p> + MADAM, + </p> + <p> + You have engaged me to communicate to you, upon my honour, (making neither + better nor worse of the matter,) what Mr. Lovelace has written to me, in + relation to yourself, in the period preceding your going to Hampstead, and + in that between the 11th and 19th of June: and you assure me you have no + view in this request, but to see if it be necessary for you, from the + account he gives, to touch upon the painful subjects yourself, for the + sake of your own character. + </p> + <p> + Your commands, Madam, are of a very delicate nature, as they may seem to + affect the secrets of private friendship: but as I know you are not + capable of a view, the motives to which you will not own; and as I think + the communication may do some credit to my unhappy friend's character, as + an ingenuous man; though his actions by the most excellent woman in the + world have lost him all title to that of an honourable one; I obey you + with the greater cheerfulness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[He then proceeds with his extracts, and concludes them with an address + to her in his friend's behalf, in the following words:] +</pre> + <p> + 'And now, Madam, I have fulfilled your commands; and, I hope, have not + dis-served my friend with you; since you will hereby see the justice he + does to your virtue in every line he writes. He does the same in all his + letters, though to his own condemnation: and, give me leave to add, that + if this ever-amiable sufferer can think it in any manner consistent with + her honour to receive his vows on the altar, on his truly penitent turn of + mind, I have not the least doubt but that he will make her the best and + tenderest of husbands. What obligation will not the admirable lady hereby + lay upon all his noble family, who so greatly admire her! and, I will + presume to say, upon her own, when the unhappy family aversion (which + certainly has been carried to an unreasonable height against him) shall be + got over, and a general reconciliation takes place! For who is it that + would not give these two admirable persons to each other, were not his + morals an objection? + </p> + <p> + However this be, I would humbly refer to you, Madam, whether, as you will + be mistress of very delicate particulars from me his friend, you should + not in honour think yourself concerned to pass them by, as if you had + never seen them; and not to take advantage of the communication, not even + in an argument, as some perhaps might lie, with respect to the + premeditated design he seems to have had, not against you, as you; but as + against the sex; over whom (I am sorry I can bear witness myself) it is + the villanous aim of all libertines to triumph: and I would not, if any + misunderstanding should arise between him and me, give him room to + reproach me that his losing of you, and (through his usage of you) of his + own friends, were owing to what perhaps he would call breach of trust, + were he to judge rather by the event than by my intention. + </p> + <p> + I am, Madam, with the most profound veneration, + </p> + <p> + Your most faithful humble servant, J. BELFORD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXI + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. FRIDAY, AUG. 4. + </p> + <p> + SIR, + </p> + <p> + I hold myself extremely obliged to you for your communications. I will + make no use of them, that you shall have reason to reproach either + yourself or me with. I wanted no new lights to make the unhappy man's + premeditated baseness to me unquestionable, as my answer to Miss + Montague's letter might convince you.* + </p> + <p> + * See Letter LXVIII. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + I must own, in his favour, that he has observed some decency in his + accounts to you of the most indecent and shocking actions. And if all his + strangely-communicative narrations are equally decent, nothing will be + rendered criminally odious by them, but the vile heart that could meditate + such contrivances as were much stronger evidences of his inhumanity than + of his wit: since men of very contemptible parts and understanding may + succeed in the vilest attempts, if they can once bring themselves to + trample on the sanctions which bind man to man; and sooner upon an + innocent person than upon any other; because such a one is apt to judge of + the integrity of others' hearts by its own. + </p> + <p> + I find I have had great reason to think myself obliged to your intention + in the whole progress of my sufferings. It is, however, impossible, Sir, + to miss the natural inference on this occasion that lies against his + predetermined baseness. But I say the less, because you shall not think I + borrow, from what you have communicated, aggravations that are not needed. + </p> + <p> + And now, Sir, that I may spare you the trouble of offering any future + arguments in his favour, let me tell you that I have weighed every thing + thoroughly—all that human vanity could suggest—all that a + desirable reconciliation with my friends, and the kind respects of his + own, could bid me hope for—the enjoyment of Miss Howe's friendship, + the dearest consideration to me, now, of all the worldly ones—all + these I have weighed: and the result is, and was before you favoured me + with these communications, that I have more satisfaction in the hope that, + in one month, there will be an end of all with me, than in the most + agreeable things that could happen from an alliance with Mr. Lovelace, + although I were to be assured he would make the best and tenderest of + husbands. But as to the rest; if, satisfied with the evils he has brought + upon me, he will forbear all further persecutions of me, I will, to my + last hour, wish him good: although he hath overwhelmed the fatherless, and + digged a pit for his friend: fatherless may she well be called, and + motherless too, who has been denied all paternal protection, and motherly + forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + And now, Sir, acknowledging gratefully your favour in the extracts, I come + to the second request I had to make you; which requires a great deal of + courage to mention; and which courage nothing but a great deal of + distress, and a very destitute condition, can give. But, if improper, I + can but be denied; and dare to say I shall be at least excused. Thus, + then, I preface it: + </p> + <p> + 'You see, Sir, that I am thrown absolutely into the hands of strangers, + who, although as kind and compassionate as strangers can be wished to be, + are, nevertheless, persons from whom I cannot expect any thing more than + pity and good wishes; nor can my memory receive from them any more + protection than my person, if either should need it. + </p> + <p> + 'If then I request it, of the only person possessed of materials that will + enable him to do my character justice; + </p> + <p> + 'And who has courage, independence, and ability to oblige me; + </p> + <p> + 'To be the protector or my memory, as I may say; + </p> + <p> + 'And to be my executor; and to see some of my dying requests performed; + </p> + <p> + 'And if I leave it to him to do the whole in his own way, manner, and + time; consulting, however, in requisite cases, my dear Miss Howe; + </p> + <p> + 'I presume to hope that this my second request may be granted.' + </p> + <p> + And if it may, these satisfactions will accrue to me from the favour done + me, and the office undertaken: + </p> + <p> + 'It will be an honour to my memory, with all those who shall know that I + was so well satisfied of my innocence, that, having not time to write my + own story, I could intrust it to the relation which the destroyer of my + fame and fortunes has given of it. + </p> + <p> + 'I shall not be apprehensive of involving any one in my troubles or + hazards by this task, either with my own relations, or with your friend; + having dispositions to make which perhaps my own friends will not be so + well pleased with as it were to be wished they would be;' as I intend not + unreasonable ones; but you know, Sir, where self is judge, matters, even + with good people, will not always be rightly judged of. + </p> + <p> + 'I shall also be freed from the pain of recollecting things that my soul + is vexed at; and this at a time when its tumults should be allayed, in + order to make way for the most important preparation. + </p> + <p> + 'And who knows, but that Mr. Belford, who already, from a principle of + humanity, is touched at my misfortunes, when he comes to revolve the whole + story, placed before him in one strong light: and when he shall have the + catastrophe likewise before him; and shall become in a manner interested + in it; who knows, but that, from a still higher principle, he may so + regulate his future actions as to find his own reward in the everlasting + welfare which is wished him by his + </p> + <p> + 'Obliged servant, 'CLARISSA HARLOWE?' + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE FRIDAY, AUG. 4. + </p> + <p> + MADAM, + </p> + <p> + I am so sensible of the honour done me in your's of this day, that I would + not delay for one moment the answering of it. I hope you will live to see + many happy years; and to be your own executrix in those points which your + heart is most set upon. But, in the case of survivorship, I most + cheerfully accept of the sacred office you are pleased to offer me; and + you may absolutely rely upon my fidelity, and, if possible, upon the + literal performance of every article you shall enjoin me. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the kind wish you conclude with, had been my concern ever + since I have been admitted to the honour of your conversation. It shall be + my whole endeavour that it be not vain. The happiness of approaching you, + which this trust, as I presume, will give me frequent opportunities of + doing, must necessarily promote the desired end: since it will be + impossible to be a witness of your piety, equanimity, and other virtues, + and not aspire to emulate you. All I beg is, that you will not suffer any + future candidate, or event, to displace me; unless some new instances of + unworthiness appear either in the morals or behaviour of, + </p> + <p> + Madam, Your most obliged and faithful servant, J. BELFORD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. FRIDAY NIGHT, AUG. 4. + </p> + <p> + I have actually delivered to the lady the extracts she requested me to + give her from your letters. I do assure you that I have made the very best + of the matter for you, not that conscience, but that friendship, could + oblige me to make. I have changed or omitted some free words. The warm + description of her person in the fire-scene, as I may call it, I have + omitted. I have told her, that I have done justice to you, in the justice + you have done to her by her unexampled virtue. But take the very words + which I wrote to her immediately following the extracts: + </p> + <p> + 'And now, Madam,'—See the paragraph marked with an inverted comma + [thus '], Letter LXX. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + The lady is extremely uneasy at the thoughts of your attempting to visit + her. For Heaven's sake, (your word being given,) and for pity's sake, (for + she is really in a very weak and languishing way,) let me beg of you not + to think of it. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday afternoon she received a cruel letter (as Mrs. Lovick supposes + it to be, by the effect it had upon her) from her sister, in answer to one + written last Saturday, entreating a blessing and forgiveness from her + parents. + </p> + <p> + She acknowledges, that if the same decency and justice are observed in all + of your letters, as in the extracts I have obliged her with, (as I have + assured her they are,) she shall think herself freed from the necessity of + writing her own story: and this is an advantage to thee which thou + oughtest to thank me for. + </p> + <p> + But what thinkest thou is the second request she had to make to me? no + other than that I would be her executor!—Her motives will appear + before thee in proper time; and then, I dare to answer, will be + satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + You cannot imagine how proud I am of this trust. I am afraid I shall too + soon come into the execution of it. As she is always writing, what a + melancholy pleasure will be the perusal and disposition of her papers + afford me! such a sweetness of temper, so much patience and resignation, + as she seems to be mistress of; yet writing of and in the midst of present + distresses! how much more lively and affecting, for that reason, must her + style be; her mind tortured by the pangs of uncertainty, (the events then + hidden in the womb of fate,) than the dry, narrative, unanimated style of + persons, relating difficulties and dangers surmounted; the relater + perfectly at ease; and if himself unmoved by his own story, not likely + greatly to affect the reader! + </p> + <p> + *** SATURDAY MORNING, AUG. 5. + </p> + <p> + I am just returned from visiting the lady, and thanking her in person for + the honour she has done me; and assuring her, if called to the sacred + trust, of the utmost fidelity and exactness. + </p> + <p> + I found her very ill. I took notice of it. She said, she had received a + second hard-hearted letter from her sister; and she had been writing a + letter (and that on her knees) directly to her mother; which, before, she + had not had the courage to do. It was for a last blessing and forgiveness. + No wonder, she said, that I saw her affected. Now that I had accepted of + the last charitable office for her, (for which, as well as for complying + with her other request, she thanked me,) I should one day have all these + letters before me: and could she have a kind one in return to that she had + been now writing, to counterbalance the unkind one she had from her + sister, she might be induced to show me both together— otherwise, + for her sister's sake, it were no matter how few saw the poor Bella's + letter. + </p> + <p> + I knew she would be displeased if I had censured the cruelty of her + relations: I therefore only said, that surely she must have enemies, who + hoped to find their account in keeping up the resentments of her friends + against her. + </p> + <p> + It may be so, Mr. Belford, said she: the unhappy never want enemies. One + fault, wilfully committed, authorizes the imputation of many more. Where + the ear is opened to accusations, accusers will not be wanting; and every + one will officiously come with stories against a disgraced child, where + nothing dare be said in her favour. I should have been wise in time, and + not have needed to be convinced, by my own misfortunes, of the truth of + what common experience daily demonstrates. Mr. Lovelace's baseness, my + father's inflexibility, my sister's reproaches, are the natural + consequences of my own rashness; so I must make the best of my hard lot. + Only, as these consequences follow one another so closely, while they are + new, how can I help being anew affected? + </p> + <p> + I asked, if a letter written by myself, by her doctor or apothecary, to + any of her friends, representing her low state of health, and great + humility, would be acceptable? or if a journey to any of them would be of + service, I would gladly undertake it in person, and strictly conform to + her orders, to whomsoever she should direct me to apply. + </p> + <p> + She earnestly desired that nothing of this sort might be attempted, + especially without her knowledge and consent. Miss Howe, she said, had + done harm by her kindly-intended zeal; and if there were room to expect + favour by mediation, she had ready at hand a kind friend, Mrs. Norton, who + for piety and prudence had few equals; and who would let slip no + opportunity to endeavour to do her service. + </p> + <p> + I let her know that I was going out of town till Monday: she wished me + pleasure; and said she should be glad to see me on my return. + </p> + <p> + Adieu! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXIV + </h2> + <p> + MISS AR. HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF JULY 29. SEE + LETTER LXII. OF THIS VOLUME.] THURSDAY MORN. AUG. 3. + </p> + <p> + SISTER CLARY, + </p> + <p> + I wish you would not trouble me with any more of your letters. You had + always a knack at writing; and depended upon making every one do what you + would when you wrote. But your wit and folly have undone you. And now, as + all naughty creatures do, when they can't help themselves, you come + begging and praying, and make others as uneasy as yourself. + </p> + <p> + When I wrote last to you, I expected that I should not be at rest. + </p> + <p> + And so you'd creep on, by little and little, till you'll want to be + received again. + </p> + <p> + But you only hope for forgiveness and a blessing, you say. A blessing for + what, sister Clary? Think for what!—However, I read your letter to + my father and mother. + </p> + <p> + I won't tell you what my father said—one who has the true sense you + boast to have of your misdeeds, may guess, without my telling you, what a + justly-incensed father would say on such an occasion. + </p> + <p> + My poor mother—O wretch! what has not your ungrateful folly cost my + poor mother!—Had you been less a darling, you would not, perhaps, + have been so graceless: But I never in my life saw a cockered favourite + come to good. + </p> + <p> + My heart is full, and I can't help writing my mind; for your crimes have + disgraced us all; and I am afraid and ashamed to go to any public or + private assembly or diversion: And why?—I need not say why, when + your actions are the subjects either of the open talk, or of the + affronting whispers, of both sexes at all such places. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, I am sorry I have no more comfort to send you: but I find + nobody willing to forgive you. + </p> + <p> + I don't know what time may do for you; and when it is seen that your + penitence is not owing more to disappointment than to true conviction: for + it is too probable, Miss Clary, that, had not your feather-headed villain + abandoned you, we should have heard nothing of these moving supplications; + nor of any thing but defiances from him, and a guilt gloried in from you. + And this is every one's opinion, as well as that of + </p> + <p> + Your afflicted sister, ARABELLA HARLOWE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I send this by a particular hand, who undertakes to give it you or leave + it for you by to-morrow night. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO HER MOTHER SATURDAY, AUG. 5 + </p> + <p> + HONOURED MADAM, + </p> + <p> + No self-convicted criminal ever approached her angry and just judge with + greater awe, nor with a truer contrition, than I do you by these lines. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I must say, that if the latter of my humble prayer had not + respected my future welfare, I had not dared to take this liberty. But my + heart is set upon it, as upon a thing next to God Almighty's forgiveness + necessary for me. + </p> + <p> + Had my happy sister known my distresses, she would not have wrung my + heart, as she has done, by a severity, which I must needs think unkind and + unsisterly. + </p> + <p> + But complaint of any unkindness from her belongs not to me: yet, as she is + pleased to write that it must be seen that my penitence is less owing to + disappointment than to true conviction, permit me, Madam, to insist upon + it, that, if such a plea can be allowed me, I an actually entitled to the + blessing I sue for; since my humble prayer is founded upon a true and + unfeigned repentance: and this you will the readier believe, if the + creature who never, to the best of her remembrance, told her mamma a + wilful falsehood may be credited, when she declares, as she does, in the + most solemn manner, that she met the seducer with a determination not to + go off with him: that the rash step was owing more to compulsion than to + infatuation: and that her heart was so little in it, that she repented and + grieved from the moment she found herself in his power; and for every + moment after, for several weeks before she had any cause from him to + apprehend the usage she met with. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, on my knees, my ever-honoured Mamma, (for on my knees I write + this letter,) I do most humbly beg your blessing: say but, in so many + words, (I ask you not, Madam, to call me your daughter,)—Lost, + unhappy wretch, I forgive you! and may God bless you!—This is all! + Let me, on a blessed scrap of paper, but see one sentence to this effect, + under your dear hand, that I may hold it to my heart in my most trying + struggles, and I shall think it a passport to Heaven. And, if I do not too + much presume, and it were WE instead of I, and both your honoured names + subjoined to it, I should then have nothing more to wish. Then would I + say, 'Great and merciful God! thou seest here in this paper thy poor + unworthy creature absolved by her justly-offended parents: Oh! join, for + my Redeemer's sake, thy all-gracious fiat, and receive a repentant sinner + to the arms of thy mercy!' + </p> + <p> + I can conjure you, Madam, by no subject of motherly tenderness, that will + not, in the opinion of my severe censurers, (before whom this humble + address must appear,) add to reproach: let me therefore, for God's sake, + prevail upon you to pronounce me blest and forgiven, since you will + thereby sprinkle comfort through the last hours of + </p> + <p> + Your CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXVI + </h2> + <p> + MISS MONTAGUE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF AUG. 3. SEE + LETTER LXVIII. OF THIS VOLUME.] MONDAY, AUG. 7. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MADAM, + </p> + <p> + We were all of opinion, before your letter came, that Mr. Lovelace was + utterly unworthy of you, and deserved condign punishment, rather than to + be blessed with such a wife: and hoped far more from your kind + consideration for us, than any we supposed you could have for so base an + injurer. For we were all determined to love you, and admire you, let his + behaviour to you be what it would. + </p> + <p> + But, after your letter, what can be said? + </p> + <p> + I am, however, commanded to write in all the subscribing names, to let you + know how greatly your sufferings have affected us: to tell you that my + Lord M. has forbid him ever more to enter the doors of the apartments + where he shall be: and as you labour under the unhappy effects of your + friends' displeasure, which may subject you to inconveniencies, his + Lordship, and Lady Sarah, and Lady Betty, beg of you to accept, for your + life, or, at least, till you are admitted to enjoy your own estate, of one + hundred guineas per quarter, which will be regularly brought you by an + especial hand, and of the enclosed bank-bill for a beginning. And do not, + dearest Madam, we all beseech you, do not think you are beholden (for this + token of Lord M.'s, and Lady Sarah's, and Lady Betty's, love to you) to + the friends of this vile man; for he has not one friend left among us. + </p> + <p> + We each of us desire to be favoured with a place in your esteem; and to be + considered upon the same foot of relationship as if what once was so much + our pleasure to hope would be, had been. And it shall be our united + prayer, that you may recover health and spirits, and live to see many + happy years: and, since this wretch can no more be pleaded for, that, when + he is gone abroad, as he now is preparing to do, we may be permitted the + honour of a personal acquaintance with a lady who has no equal. These are + the earnest requests, dearest young lady, of + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate friends, and most faithful servants, M. SARAH SADLEIR. + ELIZ. LAWRANCE. CHARL. MONTAGUE. MARTH. MONTAGUE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +You will break the hearts of the three first-named more particularly, if + you refuse them your acceptance. Dearest young lady, punish not + them for his crimes. We send by a particular hand, which will + bring us, we hope, your accepting favour. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Mr. Lovelace writes by the same hand; but he knows nothing of our letter, + nor we of his: for we shun each other; and one part of the house + holds us, another him, the remotest from each other. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXVII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. SAT. AUG. 23. + </p> + <p> + I am so disturbed at the contents of Miss Harlowe's answer to my cousin + Charlotte's letter of Tuesday last, (which was given her by the same + fellow that gave me your's,) that I have hardly patience or consideration + enough to weigh what you write. + </p> + <p> + She had need indeed to cry out for mercy for herself from her friends, who + knows not how to show any! She is a true daughter of the Harlowes!— + By my soul, Jack, she is a true daughter of the Harlowes! Yet has she so + many excellencies, that I must love her; and, fool that I am, love her the + more for despising me. + </p> + <p> + Thou runnest on with thy cursed nonsensical reformado rote, of dying, + dying, dying! and, having once got the word by the end, canst not help + foisting it in at every period! The devil take me, if I don't think thou + wouldst rather give her poison with thy own hands, rather than she should + recover, and rob thee of the merit of being a conjurer! + </p> + <p> + But no more of thy cursed knell; thy changes upon death's candlestick + turned bottom-upwards: she'll live to bury me; I see that: for, by my + soul, I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep, nor, what is still worse, love + any woman in the world but her. Nor care I to look upon a woman now: on + the contrary, I turn my head from every one I meet: except by chance an + eye, an air, a feature, strikes me, resembling her's in some glancing-by + face; and then I cannot forbear looking again: though the second look + recovers me; for there can be nobody like her. + </p> + <p> + But surely, Belford, the devil's in this woman! The more I think of her + nonsense and obstinacy, the less patience I have with her. Is it possible + she can do herself, her family, her friends, so much justice any other + way, as by marrying me? Were she sure she should live but a day, she ought + to die a wife. If her christian revenge will not let her wish to do so for + her own sake, ought she not for the sake of her family, and of her sex, + which she pretends sometimes to have so much concern for? And if no sake + is dear enough to move her Harlowe-spirit in my favour, has she any title + to the pity thou so pitifully art always bespeaking for her? + </p> + <p> + As to the difference which her letter has made between me and the stupid + family here, [and I must tell thee we are all broke in pieces,] I value + not that of a button. They are fools to anathematize and curse me, who can + give them ten curses for one, were they to hold it for a day together. + </p> + <p> + I have one half of the house to myself; and that the best; for the great + enjoy that least which costs them most: grandeur and use are two things: + the common part is their's; the state part is mine: and here I lord it, + and will lord it, as long as I please; while the two pursy sisters, the + old gouty brother, and the two musty nieces, are stived up in the other + half, and dare not stir for fear of meeting me: whom, (that's the jest of + it,) they have forbidden coming into their apartments, as I have them into + mine. And so I have them all prisoners, while I range about as I please. + Pretty dogs and doggesses to quarrel and bark at me, and yet, whenever I + appear, afraid to pop out of their kennels; or, if out before they see me, + at the sight of me run growling in again, with their flapt ears, their + sweeping dewlaps, and their quivering tails curling inwards. + </p> + <p> + And here, while I am thus worthily waging war with beetles, drones, wasps, + and hornets, and am all on fire with the rage of slighted love, thou art + regaling thyself with phlegm and rock-water, and art going on with thy + reformation-scheme and thy exultations in my misfortunes! + </p> + <p> + The devil take thee for an insensible dough-baked varlet! I have no more + patience with thee than with the lady; for thou knowest nothing either of + love or friendship, but art as unworthy of the one, as incapable of the + other; else wouldst thou not rejoice, as thou dost under the grimace of + pity, in my disappointments. + </p> + <p> + And thou art a pretty fellow, art thou not? to engage to transcribe for + her some parts of my letters written to thee in confidence? Letters that + thou shouldest sooner have parted with thy cursed tongue, than have owned + that thou ever hadst received such: yet these are now to be communicated + to her! But I charge thee, and woe be to thee if it be too late! that thou + do not oblige her with a line of mine. + </p> + <p> + If thou hast done it, the least vengeance I will take is to break through + my honour given to thee not to visit her, as thou wilt have broken through + thine to me, in communicating letters written under the seal of + friendship. + </p> + <p> + I am now convinced, too sadly for my hopes, by her letter to my cousin + Charlotte, that she is determined never to have me. + </p> + <p> + Unprecedented wickedness, she calls mine to her. But how does she know + what love, in its flaming ardour, will stimulate men to do? How does she + know the requisite distinctions of the words she uses in this case?—To + think the worst, and to be able to make comparisons in these very delicate + situations, must she not be less delicate than I had imagined her to be?—But + she has heard that the devil is black; and having a mind to make one of me, + brays together, in the mortar of her wild fancy, twenty chimney-sweepers, + in order to make one sootier than ordinary rise out of the dirty mass. + </p> + <p> + But what a whirlwind does she raise in my soul by her proud contempts of + me! Never, never, was mortal man's pride so mortified! How does she sink + me, even in my own eyes!—'Her heart sincerely repulses me, she says, + for my MEANNESS!'—Yet she intends to reap the benefit of what she + calls so!—Curse upon her haughtiness, and her meanness, at the same + time!—Her haughtiness to me, and her meanness to her own relations; + more unworthy of kindred with her, than I can be, or I am mean indeed. + </p> + <p> + Yet who but must admire, who but must adore her; Oh! that cursed, cursed + house! But for the women of that!—Then their d——d + potions! But for those, had her unimpaired intellects, and the majesty of + her virtue, saved her, as once it did by her humble eloquence,* another + time by her terrifying menaces against her own life.** + </p> + <p> + * In the fire-scene, Vol. V. Letter XVI. ** Vol. VI. Letter XXXVI. in the + pen-knife-scene. + </p> + <p> + Yet in both these to find her power over me, and my love for her, and to + hate, to despise, and to refuse me!—She might have done this with + some show of justice, had the last-intended violation been perpetrated:—but + to go away conqueress and triumphant in every light!—Well may she + despise me for suffering her to do so. + </p> + <p> + She left me low and mean indeed!—And the impression holds with her.—I + could tear my flesh, that I gave her not cause—that I humbled her + not indeed;—or that I staid not in town to attend her motions + instead of Lord M.'s, till I could have exalted myself, by giving to + myself a wife superior to all trial, to all temptation. + </p> + <p> + I will venture one more letter to her, however; and if that don't do, or + procure me an answer, then will I endeavour to see her, let what will be + the consequence. If she get out of my way, I will do some noble mischief + to the vixen girl whom she most loves, and then quit the kingdom for ever. + </p> + <p> + And now, Jack, since thy hand is in at communicating the contents of + private letters, tell her this, if thou wilt. And add to it, That if SHE + abandon me, GOD will: and what then will be the fate of + </p> + <p> + Her LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. [IN ANSWER TO LETTER LXV. OF THIS + VOLUME.] MONDAY, AUG. 7. + </p> + <p> + And so you have actually delivered to the fair implacable extracts of + letters written in the confidence of friendship! Take care—take + care, Belford—I do indeed love you better than I love any man in the + world: but this is a very delicate point. The matter is grown very serious + to me. My heart is bent upon having her. And have her I will, though I + marry her in the agonies of death. + </p> + <p> + She is very earnest, you say, that I will not offer to molest her. That, + let me tell her, will absolutely depend upon herself, and the answer she + returns, whether by pen and ink, or the contemptuous one of silence, which + she bestowed upon my last four to her: and I will write it in such humble, + and in such reasonable terms, that, if she be not a true Harlowe, she + shall forgive me. But as to the executorship which she is for conferring + upon thee—thou shalt not be her executor: let me perish if thou + shalt.—Nor shall she die. Nobody shall be any thing, nobody shall + dare to be any thing, to her, but I—thy happiness is already too + great, to be admitted daily to her presence; to look upon her, to talk to + her, to hear her talk, while I am forbid to come within view of her window— + What a reprobation is this, of the man who was once more dear to her than + all the men in the world!—And now to be able to look down upon me, + while her exalted head is hid from me among the stars, sometimes with + scorn, at other times with pity; I cannot bear it. + </p> + <p> + This I tell thee, that if I have not success in my effort by letter, I + will overcome the creeping folly that has found its way to my heart, or I + will tear it out in her presence, and throw it at her's, that she may see + how much more tender than her own that organ is, which she, and you, and + every one else, have taken the liberty to call callous. + </p> + <p> + Give notice of the people who live back and edge, and on either hand, of + the cursed mother, to remove their best effects, if I am rejected: for the + first vengeance I shall take will be to set fire to that den of serpents. + Nor will there be any fear of taking them when they are in any act that + has the relish of salvation in it, as Shakspeare says—so that my + revenge, if they perish in the flames I shall light up, will be complete + as to them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXIX + </h2> + <p> + MR. LOVELACE TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE MONDAY, AUG. 7. + </p> + <p> + Little as I have reason to expect either your patient ear, or forgiving + heart, yet cannot I forbear to write to you once more, (as a more + pardonable intrusion, perhaps, than a visit would be,) to beg of you to + put it in my power to atone, as far as it is possible to atone, for the + injuries I have done you. + </p> + <p> + Your angelic purity, and my awakened conscience, are standing records of + your exalted merit, and of my detestable baseness: but your forgiveness + will lay me under an eternal obligation to you.—Forgive me then, my + dearest life, my earthly good, the visible anchor of my future hope!—As + you, (who believe you have something to be forgiven for,) hope for pardon + yourself, forgive me, and consent to meet me, upon your own conditions, + and in whose company you please, at the holy altar, and to give yourself a + title to the most repentant and affectionate heart that ever beat in a + human bosom. + </p> + <p> + But, perhaps, a time of probation may be required. It may be impossible + for you, as well from indisposition as doubt, so soon to receive me to + absolute favour as my heart wishes to be received. In this case, I will + submit to your pleasure; and there shall be no penance which you can + impose that I will not cheerfully undergo, if you will be pleased to give + me hope that, after an expiation, suppose of months, wherein the + regularity of my future life and actions shall convince you of my + reformation, you will at last be mine. + </p> + <p> + Let me beg then the favour of a few lines, encouraging me in this + conditional hope, if it must not be a still nearer hope, and a more + generous encouragement. + </p> + <p> + If you refuse me this, you will make me desperate. But even then I must, + at all events, throw myself at your feet, that I may not charge myself + with the omission of any earnest, any humble effort, to move you in my + favour: for in YOU, Madam, in YOUR forgiveness, are centred my hopes as to + both worlds: since to be reprobated finally by you, will leave me without + expectation of mercy from above! For I am now awakened enough to think + that to be forgiven by injured innocents is necessary to the Divine + pardon; the Almighty putting into the power of such, (as is reasonable to + believe,) the wretch who causelessly and capitally offends them. And who + can be entitled to this power, if YOU are not? + </p> + <p> + Your cause, Madam, in a word, I look upon to be the cause of virtue, and, + as such, the cause of God. And may I not expect that He will assert it in + the perdition of a man, who has acted by a person of the most spotless + purity as I have done, if you, by rejecting me, show that I have offended + beyond the possibility of forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + I do most solemnly assure you that no temporal or worldly views induce me + to this earnest address. I deserve not forgiveness from you. Nor do my + Lord M. and his sisters from me. I despise them from my heart for + presuming to imagine that I will be controuled by the prospect of any + benefits in their power to confer. There is not a person breathing, but + yourself, who shall prescribe to me. Your whole conduct, Madam, has been + so nobly principled, and your resentments are so admirably just, that you + appear to me even in a divine light; and in an infinitely more amiable one + at the same time than you could have appeared in, had you not suffered the + barbarous wrongs, that now fill my mind with anguish and horror at my own + recollected villany to the most excellent of women. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, that all I beg for the present is a few lines to guide my + doubtful steps; and, if possible for you so far to condescend, to + encourage me to hope that, if I can justify my present vows by my future + conduct, I may be permitted the honour to style myself, + </p> + <p> + Eternally your's, R. LOVELACE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXX + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO LORD M. AND TO THE LADIES OF HIS HOUSE [IN REPLY + TO MISS MONTAGUE'S OF AUG. 7. SEE LETTER LXXVI. OF THIS VOLUME.] TUESDAY, + AUG. 8. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me, my good Lord, and my ever-honoured Ladies, from accepting of + your noble quarterly bounty; and allow me to return, with all grateful + acknowledgement, and true humility, the enclosed earnest of your goodness + to me. Indeed I have no need of the one, and cannot possibly want the + other: but, nevertheless have such a sense of your generous favour, that, + to my last hour, I shall have pleasure in contemplating upon it, and be + proud of the place I hold in the esteem of such venerable persons, to whom + I once had the ambition to hope to be related. + </p> + <p> + But give me leave to express my concern that you have banished your + kinsman from your presence and favour: since now, perhaps, he will be + under less restraint than ever; and since I in particular, who had hoped + by your influence to remain unmolested for the remainder of my days, may + again be subjected to his persecutions. + </p> + <p> + He has not, my good Lord, and my dear Ladies, offended against you, as he + has against me; yet you could all very generously intercede for him with + me: and shall I be very improper, if I desire, for my own peace-sake; for + the sake of other poor creatures, who may still be injured by him, if he + be made quite desperate; and for the sake of all your worthy family; that + you will extend to him that forgiveness which you hope for from me? and + this the rather, as I presume to think, that his daring and impetuous + spirit will not be subdued by violent methods; since I have no doubt that + the gratifying of a present passion will be always more prevalent with him + than any future prospects, however unwarrantable the one, or beneficial + the other. + </p> + <p> + Your resentments on my account are extremely generous, as your goodness to + me is truly noble: but I am not without hope that he will be properly + affected by the evils he has made me suffer; and that, when I am laid low + and forgotten, your whole honourable family will be enabled to rejoice in + his reformation; and see many of those happy years together, which, my + good Lord, and my dear Ladies, you so kindly wish to + </p> + <p> + Your ever-grateful and obliged CLARISSA HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXXI + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. THURSDAY NIGHT, AUG. 10. + </p> + <p> + You have been informed by Tourville, how much Belton's illness and affairs + have engaged me, as well as Mowbray and him, since my former. I called at + Smith's on Monday, in my way to Epsom. + </p> + <p> + The lady was gone to chapel: but I had the satisfaction to hear she was + not worse; and left my compliments, and an intimation that I should be out + of town for three or four days. + </p> + <p> + I refer myself to Tourville, who will let you know the difficulty we had + to drive out this meek mistress, and frugal manager, with her cubs, and to + give the poor fellow's sister possession for him of his own house; he + skulking mean while at an inn at Croydon, too dispirited to appear in his + own cause. + </p> + <p> + But I must observe that we were probably but just in time to save the + shattered remains of his fortune from this rapacious woman, and her + accomplices: for, as he cannot live long, and she thinks so, we found she + had certainly taken measures to set up a marriage, and keep possession of + all for herself and her sons. + </p> + <p> + Tourville will tell you how I was forced to chastise the quondam hostler + in her sight, before I could drive him out of the house. He had the + insolence to lay hands on me: and I made him take but one step from the + top to the bottom of a pair of stairs. I thought his neck and all his + bones had been broken. And then, he being carried out neck-and-heels, + Thomasine thought fit to walk out after him. + </p> + <p> + Charming consequences of keeping; the state we have been so fond of + extolling!—Whatever it may be thought of in strong health, sickness + and declining spirits in the keeper will bring him to see the difference. + </p> + <p> + She should soon have him, she told a confidant, in the space of six foot + by five; meaning his bed: and then she would let nobody come near him but + whom she pleased. This hostler-fellow, I suppose, would then have been his + physician; his will ready made for him; and widows' weeds probably ready + provided; who knows, but she to appear in them in his own sight? as once I + knew an instance in a wicked wife; insulting a husband she hated, when she + thought him past recovery: though it gave the man such spirits, and such a + turn, that he got over it, and lived to see her in her coffin, dressed out + in the very weeds she had insulted him in. + </p> + <p> + So much, for the present, for Belton and his Thomasine. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + I begin to pity thee heartily, now I see thee in earnest in the fruitless + love thou expressest to this angel of a woman; and the rather, as, say + what thou wilt, it is impossible she should get over her illness, and her + friends' implacableness, of which she has had fresh instances. + </p> + <p> + I hope thou art not indeed displeased with the extracts I have made from + thy letters for her. The letting her know the justice thou hast done to + her virtue in them, is so much in favour of thy ingenuousness, (a quality, + let me repeat, that gives thee a superiority over common libertines,) that + I think in my heart I was right; though to any other woman, and to one who + had not known the worst of thee that she could know, it might have been + wrong. + </p> + <p> + If the end will justify the means, it is plain, that I have done well with + regard to ye both; since I have made her easier, and thee appear in a + better light to her, than otherwise thou wouldst have done. + </p> + <p> + But if, nevertheless, thou art dissatisfied with my having obliged her in + a point, which I acknowledge to be delicate, let us canvas this matter at + our first meeting: and then I will show thee what the extracts were, and + what connections I gave them in thy favour. + </p> + <p> + But surely thou dost not pretend to say what I shall, or shall not do, as + to the executorship. + </p> + <p> + I am my own man, I hope. I think thou shouldst be glad to have the + justification of her memory left to one, who, at the same time, thou + mayest be assured, will treat thee, and thy actions, with all the lenity + the case will admit. + </p> + <p> + I cannot help expressing my surprise at one instance of thy + self-partiality; and that is, where thou sayest she has need, indeed, to + cry out for mercy herself from her friends, who knows not how to show any. + </p> + <p> + Surely thou canst not think the cases alike—for she, as I + understand, desires but a last blessing, and a last forgiveness, for a + fault in a manner involuntary, if a fault at all; and does not so much as + hope to be received; thou, to be forgiven premeditated wrongs, (which, + nevertheless, she forgives, on condition to be no more molested by thee;) + and hopest to be received into favour, and to make the finest jewel in the + world thy absolute property in consequence of that forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + I will now briefly proceed to relate what has passed since my last, as to + the excellent lady. By the account I shall give thee, thou wilt see that + she has troubles enough upon her, all springing originally from thyself, + without needing to add more to them by new vexations. And as long as thou + canst exert thyself so very cavalierly at M. Hall, where every one is thy + prisoner, I see not but the bravery of thy spirit may be as well gratified + in domineering there over half a dozen persons of rank and distinction, as + it could be over an helpless orphan, as I may call this lady, since she + has not a single friend to stand by her, if I do not; and who will think + herself happy, if she can refuge herself from thee, and from all the + world, in the arms of death. + </p> + <p> + My last was dated on Saturday. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday, in compliance with her doctor's advice, she took a little + airing. Mrs. Lovick, and Mr. Smith and his wife, were with her. After + being at Highgate chapel at divine service, she treated them with a little + repast; and in the afternoon was at Islington church, in her way home; + returning tolerably cheerful. + </p> + <p> + She had received several letters in my absence, as Mrs. Lovick acquainted + me, besides your's. Your's, it seems, much distressed her; but she ordered + the messenger, who pressed for an answer, to be told that it did not + require an immediate one. + </p> + <p> + On Wednesday she received a letter from her uncle Harlowe,* in answer to + one she had written to her mother on Saturday on her knees. It must be a + very cruel one, Mrs. Lovick says, by the effects it had upon her: for, + when she received it, she was intending to take an afternoon airing in a + coach: but was thrown into so violent a fit of hysterics upon it, that she + was forced to lie down; and (being not recovered by it) to go to bed about + eight o'clock. + </p> + <p> + * See Letter LXXXIV. of this volume. + </p> + <p> + On Thursday morning she was up very early; and had recourse to the + Scriptures to calm her mind, as she told Mrs. Lovick: and, weak as she + was, would go in a chair to Lincoln's-inn chapel, about eleven. She was + brought home a little better; and then sat down to write to her uncle. But + was obliged to leave off several times—to struggle, as she told Mrs. + Lovick, for an humble temper. 'My heart, said she to the good woman, is a + proud heart, and not yet, I find, enough mortified to my condition; but, + do what I can, will be for prescribing resenting things to my pen.' + </p> + <p> + I arrived in town from Belton's this Thursday evening; and went directly + to Smith's. She was too ill to receive my visit. But, on sending up my + compliments, she sent me down word that she should be glad to see me in + the morning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lovick obliged me with the copy of a meditation collected by the lady + from the Scriptures. She has entitled it Poor mortals the cause of their + own misery; so entitled, I presume, with intention to take off the edge of + her repinings at hardships so disproportioned to her fault, were her fault + even as great as she is inclined to think it. We may see, by this, the + method she takes to fortify her mind, and to which she owes, in a great + measure, the magnanimity with which she bears her undeserved persecutions. + </p> + <p> + MEDITATION POOR MORTALS THE CAUSE OF THEIR OWN MISERY. + </p> + <p> + Say not thou, it is through the Lord that I fell away; for thou oughtest + not to do the thing that he hateth. + </p> + <p> + Say not thou, he hath caused me to err; for he hath no need of the sinful + man. + </p> + <p> + He himself made man from the beginning, and left him in the hand of his + own counsel; + </p> + <p> + If thou wilt, to keep the commandments, and to perform acceptable + faithfulness. + </p> + <p> + He hath set fire and water before thee: stretch forth thine hand to + whither thou wilt. + </p> + <p> + He hath commanded no man to do wickedly: neither hath he given any man + license to sin. + </p> + <p> + And now, Lord, what is my hope? Truly my hope is only in thee. + </p> + <p> + Deliver me from all my offences: and make me not a rebuke unto the + foolish. + </p> + <p> + When thou with rebuke dost chasten man for sin, thou makest his beauty to + consume away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment: every man, + therefore, is vanity. + </p> + <p> + Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and + afflicted. + </p> + <p> + The troubles of my heart are enlarged. O bring thou me out of my + distresses! + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith gave me the following particulars of a conversation that passed + between herself and a young clergyman, on Tuesday afternoon, who, as it + appears, was employed to make inquiries about the lady by her friends. + </p> + <p> + He came into the shop in a riding-habit, and asked for some Spanish snuff; + and finding only Mrs. Smith there, he desired to have a little talk with + her in the back-shop. + </p> + <p> + He beat about the bush in several distant questions, and at last began to + talk more directly about Miss Harlowe. + </p> + <p> + He said he knew her before her fall, [that was his impudent word;] and + gave the substance of the following account of her, as I collected it from + Mrs. Smith: + </p> + <p> + 'She was then, he said, the admiration and delight of every body: he + lamented, with great solemnity, her backsliding; another of his phrases. + Mrs. Smith said, he was a fine scholar; for he spoke several things she + understood not; and either in Latin or Greek, she could not tell which; + but was so good as to give her the English of them without asking. A fine + thing, she said, for a scholar to be so condescending!' + </p> + <p> + He said, 'Her going off with so vile a rake had given great scandal and + offence to all the neighbouring ladies, as well as to her friends.' + </p> + <p> + He told Mrs. Smith 'how much she used to be followed by every one's eye, + whenever she went abroad, or to church; and praised and blessed by every + tongue, as she passed; especially by the poor: that she gave the fashion + to the fashionable, without seeming herself to intend it, or to know she + did: that, however, it was pleasant to see ladies imitate her in dress and + behaviour, who being unable to come up to her in grace and ease, exposed + but their own affectation and awkwardness, at the time that they thought + themselves secure of general approbation, because they wore the same + things, and put them on in the same manner, that she did, who had every + body's admiration; little considering, that were her person like their's, + or if she had their defects, she would have brought up a very different + fashion; for that nature was her guide in every thing, and ease her study; + which, joined with a mingled dignity and condescension in her air and + manner, whether she received or paid a compliment, distinguished her above + all her sex. + </p> + <p> + 'He spoke not, he said, his own sentiments only on this occasion, but + those of every body: for that the praises of Miss Clarissa Harlowe were + such a favourite topic, that a person who could not speak well upon any + other subject, was sure to speak well upon that; because he could say + nothing but what he had heard repeated and applauded twenty times over.' + </p> + <p> + Hence it was, perhaps, that this novice accounted for the best things he + said himself; though I must own that the personal knowledge of the lady, + which I am favoured with, made it easy to me to lick into shape what the + good woman reported to me, as the character given her by the young Levite: + For who, even now, in her decline of health, sees not that all these + attributes belong to her? + </p> + <p> + I suppose he has not been long come from college, and now thinks he has + nothing to do but to blaze away for a scholar among the ignorant; as such + young fellows are apt to think those who cannot cap verses with them, and + tell us how an antient author expressed himself in Latin on a subject, + upon which, however, they may know how, as well as that author, to express + themselves in English. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith was so taken with him, that she would fain have introduced him + to the lady, not questioning but it would be very acceptable to her to see + one who knew her and her friends so well. But this he declined for several + reasons, as he call them; which he gave. One was, that persons of his + cloth should be very cautious of the company they were in, especially + where sex was concerned, and where a woman had slurred her reputation—[I + wish I had been there when he gave himself these airs.] Another, that he + was desired to inform himself of her present way of life, and who her + visiters were; for, as to the praises Mrs. Smith gave the lady, he hinted, + that she seemed to be a good-natured woman, and might (though for the + lady's sake he hoped not) be too partial and short-sighted to be trusted + to, absolutely, in a concern of so high a nature as he intimated the task + was which he had undertaken; nodding out words of doubtful import, and + assuming airs of great significance (as I could gather) throughout the + whole conversation. And when Mrs. Smith told him that the lady was in a + very bad state of health, he gave a careless shrug—She may be very + ill, says he: her disappointments must have touched her to the quick: but + she is not bad enough, I dare say, yet, to atone for her very great lapse, + and to expect to be forgiven by those whom she has so much disgraced. + </p> + <p> + A starched, conceited coxcomb! what would I give he had fallen in my way! + </p> + <p> + He departed, highly satisfied with himself, no doubt, and assured of Mrs. + Smith's great opinion of his sagacity and learning: but bid her not say + any thing to the lady about him or his inquiries. And I, for very + different reasons, enjoined the same thing. + </p> + <p> + I am glad, however, for her peace of mind's sake, that they begin to think + it behoves them to inquire about her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXXII + </h2> + <p> + MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. FRIDAY, AUG. 11. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Belford acquaints his friend with the generosity of Lord M. and the + Ladies of his family; and with the Lady's grateful sentiments upon + the occasion. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He says, that in hopes to avoid the pain of seeing him, (Mr. Lovelace,) + she intends to answer his letter of the 7th, though much against + her inclination.] +</pre> + <p> + 'She took great notice,' says Mr. Belford, 'of that passage in your's, + which makes necessary to the Divine pardon, the forgiveness of a person + causelessly injured. + </p> + <p> + 'Her grandfather, I find, has enabled her at eighteen years of age to make + her will, and to devise great part of his estate to whom she pleases of + the family, and the rest out of it (if she die single) at her own + discretion; and this to create respect to her! as he apprehended that she + would be envied: and she now resolves to set about making her will out of + hand.' + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Mr. Belford insists upon the promise he had made him, not to molest the + Lady: and gives him the contents of her answer to Lord M. and the + Ladies of his Lordship's family, declining their generous offers. + See Letter LXXX. of this volume. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXXIII + </h2> + <p> + MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. FRIDAY, AUG. 11. + </p> + <p> + It is a cruel alternative to be either forced to see you, or to write to + you. But a will of my own has been long denied me; and to avoid a greater + evil, nay, now I may say, the greatest, I write. + </p> + <p> + Were I capable of disguising or concealing my real sentiments, I might + safely, I dare say, give you the remote hope you request, and yet keep all + my resolutions. But I must tell you, Sir, (it becomes my character to tell + you, that, were I to live more years than perhaps I may weeks, and there + were not another man in the world, I could not, I would not, be your's. + </p> + <p> + There is no merit in performing a duty. + </p> + <p> + Religion enjoins me not only to forgive injuries, but to return good for + evil. It is all my consolation, and I bless God for giving me that, that I + am now in such a state of mind, with regard to you, that I can cheerfully + obey its dictates. And accordingly I tell you, that, wherever you go, I + wish you happy. And in this I mean to include every good wish. + </p> + <p> + And now having, with great reluctance I own, complied with one of your + compulsatory alternatives, I expect the fruits of it. + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXXIV + </h2> + <p> + MR. JOHN HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE [IN ANSWER TO HER'S TO HER MOTHER. + SEE LETTER LXXV. OF THIS VOLUME.] MONDAY, AUG. 7. + </p> + <p> + POOR UNGRATEFUL, NAUGHTY KINSWOMAN! + </p> + <p> + Your mother neither caring, nor being permitted, to write, I am desired to + set pen to paper, though I had resolved against it. + </p> + <p> + And so I am to tell you, that your letters, joined to the occasion of + them, almost break the hearts of us all. + </p> + <p> + Were we sure you had seen your folly, and were truly penitent, and, at the + same time, that you were so very ill as you pretend, I know not what might + be done for you. But we are all acquainted with your moving ways when you + want to carry a point. + </p> + <p> + Unhappy girl! how miserable have you made us all! We, who used to visit + with so much pleasure, now cannot endure to look upon one another. + </p> + <p> + If you had not know, upon an hundred occasions, how dear you once was to + us, you might judge of it now, were you to know how much your folly has + unhinged us all. + </p> + <p> + Naughty, naughty girl! You see the fruits of preferring a rake and + libertine to a man of sobriety and morals, against full warning, against + better knowledge. And such a modest creature, too, as you were! How could + you think of such an unworthy preference! + </p> + <p> + Your mother can't ask, and your sister knows not in modesty how to ask; + and so I ask you, if you have any reason to think yourself with child by + this villain?—You must answer this, and answer it truly, before any + thing can be resolved upon about you. + </p> + <p> + You may well be touched with a deep remorse for your misdeeds. Could I + ever have thought that my doting-piece, as every one called you, would + have done thus? To be sure I loved you too well. But that is over now. + Yet, though I will not pretend to answer for any body but myself, for my + own part I say God forgive you! and this is all from + </p> + <p> + Your afflicted uncle, JOHN HARLOWE. + </p> + <p> + *** + </p> + <p> + The following MEDITATION was stitched to the bottom of this letter with + black silk. + </p> + <p> + MEDITATION + </p> + <p> + O that thou wouldst hide me in the grave! that thou wouldst keep me + secret, till thy wrath be past! + </p> + <p> + My face is foul with weeping; and on my eye-lid is the shadow of death. + </p> + <p> + My friends scorn me; but mine eye poureth out tears unto God. + </p> + <p> + A dreadful sound is in my ears; in prosperity the destroyer came upon me! + </p> + <p> + I have sinned! what shall I do unto thee, O thou Preserver of men! why + hast thou set me as a mark against thee; so that I am a burden to myself! + </p> + <p> + When I say my bed shall comfort me; my couch shall ease my complaint; + </p> + <p> + Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions. + </p> + <p> + So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than life. + </p> + <p> + I loath it! I would not live always!—Let me alone; for my days are + vanity! + </p> + <p> + He hath made me a bye-word of the people; and aforetime I was as a tabret. + </p> + <p> + My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my + heart. + </p> + <p> + When I looked for good, then evil came unto me; and when I waited for + light, then came darkness. + </p> + <p> + And where now is my hope?— + </p> + <p> + Yet all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LETTER LXXXV + </h2> + <p> + MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. THURSDAY, AUG. 10. + </p> + <p> + HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + It was an act of charity I begged: only for a last blessing, that I might + die in peace. I ask not to be received again, as my severe sister [Oh! + that I had not written to her!] is pleased to say, is my view. Let that + grace be denied me when I do. + </p> + <p> + I could not look forward to my last scene with comfort, without seeking, + at least, to obtain the blessing I petitioned for; and that with a + contrition so deep, that I deserved not, were it known, to be turned over + from the tender nature of a mother, to the upbraiding pen of an uncle! and + to be wounded by a cruel question, put by him in a shocking manner: and + which a little, a very little time, will better answer than I can: for I + am not either a hardened or shameless creature: if I were, I should not + have been so solicitous to obtain the favour I sued for. + </p> + <p> + And permit me to say that I asked it as well for my father and mother's + sake, as for my own; for I am sure they at least will be uneasy, after I + am gone, that they refused it to me. + </p> + <p> + I should still be glad to have theirs, and your's, Sir, and all your + blessings, and your prayers: but, denied in such a manner, I will not + presume again to ask it: relying entirely on the Almighty's; which is + never denied, when supplicated for with such true penitence as I hope mine + is. + </p> + <p> + God preserve my dear uncle, and all my honoured friends! prays + </p> + <p> + Your unhappy + </p> + <p> + CLARISSA HARLOWE. END OF VOL. 7. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clarissa, Volume 7, by Samuel Richardson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARISSA, VOLUME 7 *** + +***** This file should be named 11889-h.htm or 11889-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/8/8/11889/ + +Produced by Julie C. Sparks and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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