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diff --git a/12180-0.txt b/12180-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8784a9f --- /dev/null +++ b/12180-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11913 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12180 *** + +CLARISSA HARLOWE + +or the + +HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY + +Nine Volumes +Volume VIII. + + + +CONTENTS OF VOLUME VIII + + +LETTER I. Miss Howe, from the Isle of Wight.-- +In answer to her's, No. LXI. of Vol. VII. Approves not of her choice of +Belford for her executor; yet thinks she cannot appoint for that office +any of her own family. Hopes she will live any years. + +LETTER II. Clarissa to Miss Howe.-- +Sends her a large packet of letters; but (for her relations' sake) not +all she has received. Must now abide by the choice of Mr. Belford for +executor; but farther refers to the papers she sends her, for her +justification on this head. + +LETTER III. Antony Harlowe to Clarissa.-- +A letter more taunting and reproachful than that of her other uncle. To +what owing. + +LETTER IV. Clarissa. In answer.-- +Wishes that the circumstances of her case had been inquired into. +Concludes with a solemn and pathetic prayer for the happiness of the +whole family. + +LETTER V. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.-- +Her friends, through Brand's reports, as she imagines, intent upon her +going to the plantations. Wishes her to discourage improper visiters. +Difficult situations the tests of prudence as well as virtue. Dr. +Lewen's solicitude for her welfare. Her cousin Morden arrived in +England. Farther pious consolations. + +LETTER VI. Clarissa. In answer.-- +Sends her a packet of letters, which, for her relations' sake, she cannot +communicate to Miss Howe. From these she will collect a good deal of her +story. Defends, yet gently blames her mother. Afraid that her cousin +Morden will be set against her; or, what is worse, that he will seek to +avenge her. Her affecting conclusion on her Norton's divine +consolations. + +LETTER VII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Is very ill. The lady, if he die, will repent her refusal of him. One +of the greatest felicities that can befal a woman, what. Extremely ill. +His ludicrous behaviour on awaking, and finding a clergyman and his +friends praying for him by his bedside. + +LETTER VIII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Concerned at his illness. Wishes that he had died before last April. +The lady, he tells him, generously pities him; and prays that he may meet +with the mercy he has not shown. + +LETTER IX. Lovelace to Belford.-- +In raptures on her goodness to him. His deep regrets for his treatment +of her. Blesses her. + +LETTER X. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Congratulates him on his amendment. The lady's exalted charity to him. +Her story a fine subject for tragedy. Compares with it, and censures, +the play of the Fair Penitent. She is very ill; the worse for some new +instances of the implacableness of her relations. A meditation on the +subject. Poor Belton, he tells him, is at death's door; and desirous to +see him. + +LETTER XI. Belford to Clarissa.-- +Acquaints her with the obligation he is under to go to Belton, and (lest +she should be surprised) with Lovelace's resolution (as signified in the +next letter) to visit her. + +LETTER XII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Resolves to throw himself at the lady's feet. Lord M. of opinion that +she ought to admit of one interview. + +LETTER XIII. From the same.-- +Arrived in London, he finds the lady gone abroad. Suspects Belford. His +unaccountable freaks at Smith's. His motives for behaving so ludicrously +there. The vile Sally Martin entertains him with her mimicry of the +divine lady. + +LETTER XIV. From the same.-- +His frightful dream. How affected by it. Sleeping or waking, his +Clarissa always present with him. Hears she is returned to her lodgings. +Is hastening to her. + +LETTER XV. From the same.-- +Disappointed again. Is affected by Mrs. Lovick's expostulations. Is +shown a meditation on being hunted after by the enemy of her soul, as it +is entitled. His light comments upon it. Leaves word that he resolves +to see her. Makes several other efforts for that purpose. + +LETTER XVI. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Reproaches him that he has not kept his honour with him. Inveighs +against, and severely censures him for his light behaviour at Smith's. +Belton's terrors and despondency. Mowbray's impenetrable behaviour. + +LETTER XVII. From the same.-- +Mowbray's impatience to run from a dying Belton to a too-lively Lovelace. +Mowbray abuses Mr. Belton's servant in the language of a rake of the +common class. Reflection on the brevity of life. + +LETTER XVIII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Receives a letter from Clarissa, written by way of allegory to induce him +to forbear hunting after her. Copy of it. He takes it in a literal +sense. Exults upon it. Will now hasten down to Lord M. and receive the +gratulations of all his family on her returning favour. Gives an +interpretation of his frightful dream to his own liking. + +LETTER XIX. XX. From the same.-- +Pities Belton. Rakishly defends him on the issue of a duel, which now +adds to the poor man's terrors. His opinion of death, and the fear of +it. Reflections upon the conduct of play-writers with regard +servants. He cannot account for the turn his Clarissa has taken in his +favour. Hints at one hopeful cause of it. Now matrimony seems to be in +his power, he has some retrograde motions. + +LETTER XXI. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Continuation of his narrative of Belton's last illness and impatience. +The poor man abuses the gentlemen of the faculty. Belford censures some +of them for their greediness after fees. Belton dies. Serious +reflections on the occasion. + +LETTER XXII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Hopes Belton is happy; and why. He is setting out for Berks. + +LETTER XXIII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Attends the lady. She is extremely ill, and receives the sacrament. +Complains of the harasses his friend had given her. Two different +persons (from her relations, he supposes) inquire after her. Her +affecting address to the doctor, apothecary, and himself. Disposes of +some more of her apparel for a very affecting purpose. + +LETTER XXIV. Dr. Lewen to Clarissa.-- +Writes on his pillow, to prevail upon her to prosecute Lovelace for his +life. + +LETTER XXV. Her pathetic and noble answer. + +LETTER XXVI. Miss Arabella Harlowe to Clarissa.-- +Proposes, in a most taunting and cruel manner, the prosecution of +Lovelace; or, if not, her going to Pensylvania. + +LETTER XXVII. Clarissa's affecting answer. + +LETTER XXVIII. XXIX. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.-- +Her uncle's cruel letter to what owing. Colonel Morden resolved on a +visit to Lovelace.--Mrs. Hervey, in a private conversation with her, +accounts for, yet blames, the cruelty of her family. Miss Dolly Hervey +wishes to attend her. + +LETTER XXX. Clarissa. In answer.-- +Thinks she has been treated with great rigour by her relations. +Expresses more warmth than usual on this subject. Yet soon checks +herself. Grieves that Colonel Morden resolves on a visit to Lovelace. +Touches upon her sister's taunting letter. Requests Mrs. Norton's +prayers for patience and resignation. + +LETTER XXXI. Miss Howe to Clarissa.-- +Approves now of her appointment of Belford for an executor. Admires her +greatness of mind in despising Lovelace. Every body she is with taken +with Hickman; yet she cannot help wantoning with the power his obsequious +love gives her over him. + +LETTER XXXII. XXXIII. Clarissa to Miss Howe.-- +Instructive lessons and observations on her treatment of Hickman.-- +Acquaints her with all that has happened since her last. Fears that all +her allegorical letter is not strictly right. Is forced by illness to +break off. Resumes. Wishes her married. + +LETTER XXXIV. Mr. Wyerley to Clarissa.-- +A generous renewal of his address to her now in her calamity; and a +tender of his best services. + +LETTER XXXV. Her open, kind, and instructive answer. + +LETTER XXXVI. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Uneasy, on a suspicion that her letter to him was a stratagem only. What +he will do, if he find it so. + +LETTER XXXVII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Brief account of his proceedings in Belton's affairs. The lady extremely +ill. Thought to be near her end. Has a low-spirited day. Recovers her +spirits; and thinks herself above this world. She bespeaks her coffin. +Confesses that her letter to Lovelace was allegorical only. The light in +which Belford beholds her. + +LETTER XXXVIII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +An affecting conversation that passed between the lady and Dr. H. She +talks of death, he says, and prepares for it, as if it were an occurrence +as familiar to her as dressing and undressing. Worthy behaviour of the +doctor. She makes observations on the vanity of life, on the wisdom of +an early preparation for death, and on the last behaviour of Belton. + +LETTER XXXIX. XL. XLI. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Particulars of what passed between himself, Colonel Morden, Lord M., and +Mowbray, on the visit made him by the Colonel. Proposes Belford to Miss +Charlotte Montague, by way of raillery, for an husband.--He encloses +Brand's letter, which misrepresents (from credulity and officiousness, +rather than ill-will) the lady's conduct. + +LETTER XLII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Expatiates on the baseness of deluding young creatures, whose confidence +has been obtained by oaths, vows, promises. Evil of censoriousness. +People deemed good too much addicted to it. Desires to know what he +means my his ridicule with regard to his charming cousin. + +LETTER XLIII. From the same.-- +A proper test of the purity of writing. The lady again makes excuses for +her allegorical letter. Her calm behaviour, and generous and useful +reflections, on his communicating to her Brand's misrepresentations of +her conduct. + +LETTER XLIV. Colonel Morden to Clarissa.-- +Offers his assistance and service to make the best of what has happened. +Advises her to marry Lovelace, as the only means to bring about a general +reconciliation. Has no doubt of his resolution to do her justice. +Desires to know if she has. + +LETTER XLV. Clarissa. In answer. + +LETTER XLVI. Lovelace to Belford.-- +His reasonings and ravings on finding the lady's letter to him only an +allegorical one. In the midst of these, the natural gayety of his heart +runs him into ridicule on Belford. His ludicrous image drawn from a +monument in Westminster Abbey. Resumes his serious disposition. If the +worst happen, (the Lord of Heaven and Earth, says he, avert that worst!) +he bids him only write that he advises him to take a trip to Paris; and +that will stab him to the heart. + +LETTER XLVII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +The lady's coffin brought up stairs. He is extremely shocked and +discomposed at it. Her intrepidity. Great minds, he observes, cannot +avoid doing uncommon things. Reflections on the curiosity of women. + +LETTER XLVIII. From the same.-- +Description of the coffin, and devices on the lid. It is placed in her +bed-chamber. His serious application to Lovelace on her great behaviour. + +LETTER XLIX. From the same.-- +Astonished at his levity in the Abbey-instance. The lady extremely ill. + +LETTER L. Lovelace to Belford.-- +All he has done to the lady a jest to die for; since her triumph has ever +been greater than her sufferings. He will make over all his possessions +and all his reversions to the doctor, if he will but prolong her life for +one twelvemonth. How, but for her calamities, could her equanimity blaze +out as it does! He would now love her with an intellectual flame. He +cannot bear to think that the last time she so triumphantly left him +should be the last. His conscience, he says, tears him. He is sick of +the remembrance of his vile plots. + +LETTER LI. Belford to Lovelace.-- +The lady alive, serene, and calm. The more serene for having finished, +signed, and sealed her last will; deferred till now for reasons of filial +duty. + +LETTER LII. Miss Howe to Clarissa.-- +Pathetically laments the illness of her own mother, and of her dear +friend. Now all her pertness to the former, she says, fly in her face. +She lays down her pen; and resumes it, to tell her, with great joy, that +her mother is better. She has had a visit form her cousin Morden. What +passed in it. + +LETTER LIII. From the same.-- +Displeased with the Colonel for thinking too freely of the sex. Never +knew a man that had a slight notion of the virtue of women in general, +who deserved to be valued for his morals. Why women must either be more +or less virtuous than men. Useful hints to young ladies. Is out of +humour with Mr. Hickman. Resolves to see her soon in town. + +LETTER LIV. Belford to Lovelace.-- +The lady writes and reads upon her coffin, as upon a desk. The doctor +resolves to write to her father. Her intense, yet cheerful devotion. + +LETTER LV. Clarissa to Miss Howe.-- +A letter full of pious reflections, and good advice, both general and +particular; and breathing the true spirit of charity, forgiveness, +patience, and resignation. A just reflection, to her dear friend, upon +the mortifying nature of pride. + +LETTER LVI. Mrs. Norton to Clarissa.-- +Her account of an interesting conversation at Harlowe-place between the +family and Colonel Morden; and of another between her mother and self. +The Colonel incensed against them all. Her advice concerning Belford, +and other matters. Miss Howe has obtained leave, she hears, to visit +her. Praises Mr. Hickman. Gently censures Miss Howe on his account. +Her truly maternal and pious comfortings. + +LETTER LVII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +The lady's sight begins to fail her. She blesses God for the serenity +she enjoys. It is what, she says, she had prayed for. What a blessing, +so near to her dissolution, to have her prayers answered! Gives +particular directions to him about her papers, about her last will and +apparel. Comforts the women and him on their concern for her. Another +letter brought her from Colonel Morden. The substance of it. Belford +writes to hasten up the Colonel. Dr. H. has also written to her father; +and Brand to Mr. John Harlowe a letter recanting his officious one. + +LETTER LVIII. Dr. H. to James Harlowe, Senior, Esq. + +LETTER LIX. Copy of Mr. Belford's letter to Colonel Morden, +to hasten him up. + +LETTER LX. Lovelace to Belford.-- +He feels the torments of the damned, in the remorse that wrings his +heart, on looking back on his past actions by this lady. Gives him what +he calls a faint picture of his horrible uneasiness, riding up and down, +expecting the return of his servant as soon as he had dispatched him. +Woe be to the man who brings him the fatal news! + +LETTER LXI. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Farther particulars of the lady's pious and exemplary behaviour. She +rejoices in the gradual death afforded her. Her thankful acknowledgments +to Mr. Belford, Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Lovick, for their kindness to her. +Her edifying address to Mr. Belford. + +LETTER LXII. Clarissa to Mrs. Norton. In answer to her's, No. LVI.-- +Afflicted only for her friends. Desires not now to see her cousin +Morden, nor even herself, or Miss Howe. God will have no rivals, she +says, in the hearts of those whom HE sanctifies. Advice to Miss Howe. +To Mr. Hickman. Blesses all her relations and friends. + +LETTER LXIII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +A letter of deep distress, remorse, and impatience. Yet would he fain +lighten his own guilt by reflections on the cruelty of her relations. + +LETTER LXIV. Belford to Lovelace +The lady is disappointed at the Doctor's telling her that she may yet +live two or three days. Death from grief the slowest of deaths. Her +solemn forgiveness of Lovelace, and prayer for him. Owns that once she +could have loved him. Her generous concern for his future happiness. +Belford's good resolutions. + +LETTER LXV. Mr. Brand to Mr. John Walton. + +LETTER LXVI. Mr. Brand to John Harlowe, Esq.; +in excuse of his credulity, and of the misreports founded upon it. + +LETTER LXVII. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Blesses him for sending him word the lady is better. Her charity towards +him cuts him to the heart. He cannot bear it. His vehement self +reproaches. Curses his contriving genius, and his disbelief that there +could be such virtue in woman. The world never saw such an husband as he +will make, if she recover, and will be his. + +LETTER LXVIII. Belford to Lovelace.-- +The lady's pious frame. The approaches of death how supportable to her; +and why. She has no reason, she says, to grieve for any thing but the +sorrow she has given to her friends. + +LETTER LXIX. Lovelace to Belford.-- +Never prayed in his life, put all the years of it together, as he has +done for this fortnight. Has repented of all his baseness: And will +nothing do? Conjures him to send him good news in his next, as he would +not be answerable for consequences. + +LETTER LXX. Belford to Lovelace.-- +Solemn leave taken of her by the doctor and apothecary; who tell her she +will hardly see the next night. The pleasure with which she receives the +intimation. How unlike poor Belton's behaviour her's! A letter from +Miss Howe. Copy of it. She cannot see to read it. Her exalted +expressions on hearing it read. Tries to write an answer to it; but +cannot. Dictates to Mrs. Lovick. Writes the superscriptive part herself +on her knees. Colonel Morden arrives in town. + +LETTER LXXI. From the same.-- +What passes on Colonel Morden's visit to his cousin. She enjoins the +Colonel not to avenge her. + + + + +THE HISTORY + +OF + +CLARISSA HARLOWE + + + +LETTER I + +MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT, MONDAY, AUG. 7. + + +MY DEAREST CREATURE, + +I can write but just now a few lines. I cannot tell how to bear the +sound of that Mr. Belford for your executor, cogent as your reasons for +that measure are: and yet I am firmly of opinion, that none of your +relations should be named for the trust. But I dwell the less on this +subject, as I hope (and cannot bear to apprehend the contrary) that you +will still live many, many years. + +Mr. Hickman, indeed, speaks very handsomely of Mr. Belford. But he, poor +man! has not much penetration.--If he had, he would hardly think so well +of me as he does. + +I have a particular opportunity of sending this by a friend of my aunt +Harman's; who is ready to set out for London, (and this occasions my +hurry,) and is to return out of hand. I expect therefore, by him a large +packet from you; and hope and long for news of your amended health: which +Heaven grant to the prayers of + +Your ever-affectionate +ANNA HOWE. + + + +LETTER II + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE +FRIDAY, AUG. 11. + + +I will send you a large packet, as you desire and expect; since I can do +it by so safe a conveyance: but not all that is come to my hand--for I +must own that my friends are very severe; too severe for any body, who +loves them not, to see their letters. You, my dear, would not call them +my friends, you said, long ago; but my relations: indeed I cannot call +them my relations, I think!----But I am ill; and therefore perhaps more +peevish than I should be. It is difficult to go out of ourselves to give +a judgment against ourselves; and yet, oftentimes, to pass a just +judgment, we ought. + +I thought I should alarm you in the choice of my executor. But the sad +necessity I am reduced to must excuse me. + +I shall not repeat any thing I have said before on that subject: but if +your objections will not be answered to your satisfaction by the papers +and letters I shall enclose, marked 1, 2, 3, 4, to 9, I must think myself +in another instance unhappy; since I am engaged too far (and with my own +judgment too) to recede. + +As Mr. Belford has transcribed for me, in confidence, from his friend's +letters, the passages which accompany this, I must insist that you suffer +no soul but yourself to peruse them; and that you return them by the very +first opportunity; that so no use may be made of them that may do hurt +either to the original writer or to the communicator. You'll observe I +am bound by promise to this care. If through my means any mischief +should arise, between this humane and that inhuman libertine, I should +think myself utterly inexcusable. + +I subjoin a list of the papers or letters I shall enclose. You must +return them all when perused.* + + +* 1. A letter from Miss Montague, dated . . . . Aug. 1. + 2. A copy of my answer . . . . . . . . . . . Aug. 3. + 3. Mr. Belford's Letter to me, which will show + you what my request was to him, and his + compliance with it; and the desired ex- + tracts from his friend's letters . . . . Aug. 3, 4. + 4. A copy of my answer, with thanks; and re- + questing him to undertake the executor- + ship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aug. 4. + 5. Mr. Belford's acceptance of the trust . . Aug. 4. + 6. Miss Montague's letter, with a generous + offer from Lord M. and the Ladies of that + family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aug. 7. + 7. Mr. Lovelace's to me . . . . . . . . . . . Aug. 7. + 8. Copy of mine to Miss Montague, in answer + to her's of the day before . . . . . . . Aug. 8. + 9. Copy of my answer to Mr. Lovelace . . . . Aug. 11. + +You will see by these several Letters, written and received in so little +a space of time (to say nothing of what I have received and written which +I cannot show you,) how little opportunity or leisure I can have for +writing my own story. + + +I am very much tired and fatigued--with--I don't know what--with writing, +I think--but most with myself, and with a situation I cannot help +aspiring to get out of, and above! + +O my dear, the world we live in is a sad, a very sad world!----While +under our parents' protecting wings, we know nothing at all of it. +Book-learned and a scribbler, and looking at people as I saw them as +visiters or visiting, I thought I knew a great deal of it. Pitiable +ignorance!--Alas! I knew nothing at all! + +With zealous wishes for your happiness, and the happiness of every one +dear to you, I am, and will ever be, + +Your gratefully-affectionate +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER III + +MR. ANTONY HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE +[IN REPLY TO HER'S TO HER UNCLE HARLOWE, OF THURSDAY, AUG. 10.] +AUG. 12. + + +UNHAPPY GIRL! + +As your uncle Harlowe chooses not to answer your pert letter to him; +and as mine, written to you before,* was written as if it were in the +spirit of prophecy, as you have found to your sorrow; and as you are now +making yourself worse than you are in your health, and better than you +are in your penitence, as we are very well assured, in order to move +compassion; which you do not deserve, having had so much warning: for all +these reasons, I take up my pen once more; though I had told your +brother, at his going to Edinburgh, that I would not write to you, even +were you to write to me, without letting him know. So indeed had we all; +for he prognosticated what would happen, as to your applying to us, when +you knew not how to help it. + + +* See Vol. I. Letter XXXII. + + +Brother John has hurt your niceness, it seems, by asking you a plain +question, which your mother's heart is too full of grief to let her ask; +and modesty will not let your sister ask; though but the consequence of +your actions--and yet it must be answered, before you'll obtain from your +father and mother, and us, the notice you hope for, I can tell you that. + +You lived several guilty weeks with one of the vilest fellows that ever +drew breath, at bed, as well as at board, no doubt, (for is not his +character known?) and pray don't be ashamed to be asked after what may +naturally come of such free living. This modesty indeed would have +become you for eighteen years of your life--you'll be pleased to mark +that--but makes no good figure compared with your behaviour since the +beginning of April last. So pray don't take it up, and wipe your mouth +upon it, as if nothing had happened. + +But, may be, I likewise am to shocking to your niceness!--O girl, girl! +your modesty had better been shown at the right time and place--Every +body but you believed what the rake was: but you would believe nothing +bad of him--What think you now? + +Your folly has ruined all our peace. And who knows where it may yet end? +--Your poor father but yesterday showed me this text: With bitter grief +he showed it me, poor man! and do you lay it to your heart: + +'A father waketh for his daughter, when no man knoweth; and the care for +her taketh away his sleep--When she is young, lest she pass away the +flower of her age--[and you know what proposals were made to you at +different times.] And, being married, lest she should be hated. In her +virginity, lest she should be defiled, and gotten with child in her +father's house--[and I don't make the words, mind that.] And, having an +husband, lest she should misbehave herself.' And what follows? 'Keep +a sure watch over a shameless daughter--[yet no watch could hold you!] +lest she make thee a laughing stock to thine enemies--[as you have made +us all to this cursed Lovelace,] and a bye-word in the city, and a +reproach among the people, and make thee ashamed before the multitude.' +Eccles. xlii. 9, 10, &c. + +Now will you wish you had not written pertly. Your sister's severities! +--Never, girl, say that is severe that is deserved. You know the meaning +of words. No body better. Would to the Lord you had acted up but to one +half of what you know! then had we not been disappointed and grieved, as +we all have been: and nobody more than him who was + +Your loving uncle, +ANTONY HARLOWE. + +This will be with you to-morrow. Perhaps you may be suffered to have + some part of your estate, after you have smarted a little more. + Your pertly-answered uncle John, who is your trustee, will not have + you be destitute. But we hope all is not true that we hear of you. + --Only take care, I advise you, that, bad as you have acted, you + act not still worse, if it be possible to act worse. Improve upon + the hint. + + + +LETTER IV + +MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO ANTONY HARLOWE, ESQ. +SUNDAY, AUG. 13. + + +HONOURED SIR, + +I am very sorry for my pert letter to my uncle Harlowe. Yet I did not +intend it to be pert. People new to misfortune may be too easily moved +to impatience. + +The fall of a regular person, no doubt, is dreadful and inexcusable. It is like the sin of apostacy. Would to Heaven, however, that I had had +the circumstances of mine inquired into! + +If, Sir, I make myself worse than I am in my health, and better than I am +in my penitence, it is fit I should be punished for my double +dissimulation: and you have the pleasure of being one of my punishers. +My sincerity in both respects will, however, be best justified by the +event. To that I refer.--May Heaven give you always as much comfort in +reflecting upon the reprobation I have met with, as you seem to have +pleasure in mortifying a young creature, extremely mortified; and that +from a right sense, as she presumes to hope, of her own fault! + +What you heard of me I cannot tell. When the nearest and dearest +relations give up an unhappy wretch, it is not to be wondered at that +those who are not related to her are ready to take up and propagate +slanders against her. Yet I think I may defy calumny itself, and +(excepting the fatal, though involuntary step of April 10) wrap myself in +my own innocence, and be easy. I thank you, Sir, nevertheless, for your +caution, mean it what it will. + +As to the question required of me to answer, and which is allowed to be +too shocking either for a mother to put to a daughter, or a sister to a +sister; and which, however, you say I must answer;--O Sir!--And must I +answer?--This then be my answer:--'A little time, a much less time than +is imagined, will afford a more satisfactory answer to my whole family, +and even to my brother and sister, than I can give in words.' + +Nevertheless, be pleased to let it be remembered, that I did not petition +for a restoration to favour. I could not hope for that. Nor yet to be +put in possession of any part of my own estate. Nor even for means of +necessary subsistence from the produce of that estate--but only for a +blessing; for a last blessing! + +And this I will farther add, because it is true, that I have no wilful +crime to charge against myself: no free living at bed and at board, as +you phrase it! + +Why, why, Sir, were not other inquiries made of me, as well as this +shocking one?--inquiries that modesty would have permitted a mother or +sister to make; and which, if I may be excused to say so, would have been +still less improper, and more charitable, to have been made by uncles, +(were the mother forbidden, or the sister not inclined, to make them,) +than those they have made. + +Although my humble application has brought upon me so much severe +reproach, I repent not that I have written to my mother, (although I +cannot but wish that I had not written to my sister;) because I have +satisfied a dutiful consciousness by it, however unanswered by the +wished-for success. Nevertheless, I cannot help saying, that mine is +indeed a hard fate, that I cannot beg pardon for my capital errors +without doing it in such terms as shall be an aggravation of the offence. + +But I had best leave off, lest, as my full mind, I find, is rising to my +pen, I have other pardons to beg as I multiply lines, where none at all +will be given. + +God Almighty bless, preserve, and comfort my dear sorrowing and +grievously offended father and mother!--and continue in honour, favour, +and merit, my happy sister!--May God forgive my brother, and protect him +from the violence of his own temper, as well as from the destroyer of his +sister's honour!--And may you, my dear uncle, and your no less now than +ever dear brother, my second papa, as he used to bid me call him, be +blessed and happy in them, and in each other!--And, in order to this, may +you all speedily banish from your remembrance, for ever, + +The unhappy +CLARISSA HARLOWE! + + + +LETTER V + +MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +MONDAY, AUG. 14. + + +All your friends here, my dear young lady, now seem set upon proposing to +you to go to one of the plantations. This, I believe, is owing to some +misrepresentations of Mr. Brand; from whom they have received a letter. + +I wish, with all my heart, that you could, consistently with your own +notions of honour, yield to the pressing requests of all Mr. Lovelace's +family in his behalf. This, I think, would stop every mouth; and, in +time, reconcile every body to you. For your own friends will not believe +that he is in earnest to marry you; and the hatred between the families +is such, that they will not condescend to inform themselves better; nor +would believe him, if he were ever so solemnly to avow that he is. + +I should be very glad to have in readiness, upon occasion, some brief +particulars of your sad story under your own hand. But let me tell you, +at the same time, that no misrepresentations, nor even your own +confession, shall lessen my opinion either of your piety, or of your +prudence in essential points; because I know it was always your humble +way to make light faults heavy against yourself: and well might you, my +dearest young lady, aggravate your own failings, who have ever had so +few; and those few so slight, that your ingenuousness has turned most of +them into excellencies. + +Nevertheless, let me advise you, my dear Miss Clary, to discountenance +any visits, which, with the censorious, may affect your character. As +that has not hitherto suffered by your wilful default, I hope you will +not, in a desponding negligence (satisfying yourself with a consciousness +of your own innocence) permit it to suffer. Difficult situations, you +know, my dear young lady, are the tests not only of prudence but of +virtue. + +I think, I must own to you, that, since Mr. Brand's letter has been +received, I have a renewed prohibition to attend you. However, if you +will give me leave, that shall not detain me from you. Nor would I stay +for that leave, if I were not in hopes that, in this critical situation, +I may be able to do you service here. + +I have often had messages and inquiries after your health from the +truly-reverend Dr. Lewen, who has always expressed, and still expresses, +infinite concern for you. He entirely disapproves of the measures of the +family with regard to you. He is too much indisposed to go abroad. But, +were he in good health, he would not, as I understand, visit at +Harlowe-place, having some time since been unhandsomely treated by your +brother, on his offering to mediate for you with your family. + + +*** + + +I am just now informed that your cousin Morden is arrived in England. He +is at Canterbury, it seems, looking after some concerns he has there; and +is soon expected in these parts. Who knows what may arise from his +arrival? God be with you, my dearest Miss Clary, and be your comforter +and sustainer. And never fear but He will; for I am sure, I am very +sure, that you put your whole trust in Him. + +And what, after all, is this world, on which we so much depend for +durable good, poor creatures that we are!--When all the joys of it, and +(what is a balancing comfort) all the troubles of it, are but momentary, +and vanish like a morning dream! + +And be this remembered, my dearest young lady, that worldly joy claims no +kindred with the joys we are bid to aspire after. These latter we must +be fitted for by affliction and disappointment. You are therefore in the +direct road to glory, however thorny the path you are in. And I had +almost said, that it depends upon yourself, by your patience, and by your +resignedness to the dispensation, (God enabling you, who never fails the +true penitent, and sincere invoker,) to be an heir of a blessed +immortality. + +But this glory, I humbly pray, that you may not be permitted to enter +into, ripe as you are so soon to be for it, till, with your gentle hand, +(a pleasure I have so often, as you now, promised to myself,) you have +closed the eyes of + +Your maternally-affectionate +JUDITH NORTON. + + + +LETTER VI + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON +THURSDAY, AUG. 27. + + +What Mr. Brand, or any body, can have written or said to my prejudice, I +cannot imagine; and yet some evil reports have gone out against me; as I +find by some hints in a very severe letter written to me by my uncle +Antony. Such a letter as I believe was never written to any poor +creature, who, by ill health of body, as well as of mind, was before +tottering on the brink of the grave. But my friends may possibly be +better justified than the reporters--For who knows what they may have +heard? + +You give me a kind caution, which seems to imply more than you express, +when you advise me against countenancing visiters that may discredit me. +You have spoken quite out. Surely, I have had afflictions enow to +strengthen my mind, and to enable it to bear the worst that can now +happen. But I will not puzzle myself by conjectural evils; as I might +perhaps do, if I had not enow that were certain. I shall hear all, when +it is thought proper that I should. Mean time, let me say, for your +satisfaction, that I know not that I have any thing criminal or +disreputable to answer for either in word or deed, since the fatal 10th +of April last. + +You desire an account of what passes between me and my friends; and also +particulars or brief heads of my sad story, in order to serve me as +occasion shall offer. My dear good Mrs. Norton, you shall have a whole +packet of papers, which I have sent to my Miss Howe, when she returns +them; and you shall have likewise another packet, (and that with this +letter,) which I cannot at present think of sending to that dear friend +for the sake of my own relations; whom, without seeing that packet, she +is but too ready to censure heavily. From these you will be able to +collect a great deal of my story. But for what is previous to these +papers, and which more particularly relates to what I have suffered from +Mr. Lovelace, you must have patience; for at present I have neither head +nor heart for such subjects. The papers I send you with this will be +those mentioned in the margin.* You must restore them to me as soon as +perused; and upon your honour make no use of them, or of any intelligence +you have from me, but by my previous consent. + + +* 1. A copy of mine to my sister, begging + off my father's malediction . . . . . . dated July 21. + 2. My sister's answer . . . . . . . . . . . dated July 27. + 3. Copy of my second letter to my sister. . dated July 29. + 4. My sister's answer . . . . . . . . . . . dated Aug. 3. + 5. Copy of my Letter to my mother . . . . . dated Aug. 5. + 6. My uncle Harlowe's letter . . . . . . . dated Aug. 7. + 7. Copy of my answer to it . . . . . . . . dated the 1oth. + 8. Letter from my uncle Antony . . . . . . dated the 12th. + 9. And lastly, the copy of my answer to it. dated the 13th. + + +These communications you must not, my good Mrs. Norton, look upon as +appeals against my relations. On the contrary, I am heartily sorry that +they have incurred the displeasure of so excellent a divine as Dr. Lewen. +But you desire to have every thing before you: and I think you ought; for +who knows, as you say, but you may be applied to at last to administer +comfort from their conceding hearts, to one that wants it; and who +sometimes, judging by what she knows of her own heart, thinks herself +entitled to it? + +I know that I have a most indulgent and sweet-tempered mother; but, +having to deal with violent spirits, she has too often forfeited that +peace of mind which she so much prefers, by her over concern to preserve +it. + +I am sure she would not have turned me over for an answer to a letter +written with so contrite and fervent a spirit, as was mine to her, to a +masculine spirit, had she been left to herself. + +But, my dear Mrs. Norton, might not, think you, the revered lady have +favoured me with one private line?----If not, might not you have written +by her order, or connivance, one softening, one motherly line, when she +saw her poor girl, whom once she dearly loved, borne so hard upon? + +O no, she might not!--because her heart, to be sure, is in their +measures! and if she think them right, perhaps they must be right!--at +least, knowing only what they know, they must!--and yet they might know +all, if they would!--and possibly, in their own good time, they think to +make proper inquiry.--My application was made to them but lately.--Yet +how deeply will it afflict them, if their time should be out of time! + +When you have before you the letters I have sent to Miss Howe, you will +see that Lord M. and the Ladies of his family, jealous as they are of the +honour of their house, (to express myself in their language,) think +better of me than my own relations do. You will see an instance of their +generosity to me, which at the time extremely affected me, and indeed +still affects me. Unhappy man! gay, inconsiderate, and cruel! what has +been his gain by making unhappy a creature who hoped to make him happy! +and who was determined to deserve the love of all to whom he is related! +--Poor man!--but you will mistake a compassionate and placable nature for +love!--he took care, great care, that I should rein-in betimes any +passion that I might have had for him, had he known how to be but +commonly grateful or generous!--But the Almighty knows what is best for +his poor creatures. + +Some of the letters in the same packet will also let you into the +knowledge of a strange step which I have taken, (strange you will think +it); and, at the same time, give you my reasons for taking it.* + + +* She means that of making Mr. Belford her executor. + + +It must be expected, that situations uncommonly difficult will make +necessary some extraordinary steps, which, but for those situations, +would be hardly excusable. It will be very happy indeed, and somewhat +wonderful, if all the measures I have been driven to take should be +right. A pure intention, void of all undutiful resentment, is what must +be my consolation, whatever others may think of those measures, when they +come to know them: which, however, will hardly be till it is out of my +power to justify them, or to answer for myself. + +I am glad to hear of my cousin Morden's safe arrival. I should wish to +see him methinks: but I am afraid that he will sail with the stream; as +it must be expected, that he will hear what they have to say first.--But +what I most fear is, that he will take upon himself to avenge me. Rather +than he should do so, I would have him look upon me as a creature utterly +unworthy of his concern; at least of his vindictive concern. + +How soothing to the wounded heart of your Clarissa, how balmy are the +assurances of your continued love and favour;--love me, my dear mamma +Norton, continue to love me, to the end!--I now think that I may, without +presumption, promise to deserve your love to the end. And, when I am +gone, cherish my memory in your worthy heart; for in so doing you will +cherish the memory of one who loves and honours you more than she can +express. + +But when I am no more, I charge you, as soon as you can, the smarting +pangs of grief that will attend a recent loss; and let all be early +turned into that sweetly melancholy regard to MEMORY, which, engaging us +to forget all faults, and to remember nothing but what was thought +amiable, gives more pleasure than pain to survivors--especially if they +can comfort themselves with the humble hope, that the Divine mercy has +taken the dear departed to itself. + +And what is the space of time to look backward upon, between an early +departure and the longest survivance!--and what the consolation attending +the sweet hope of meeting again, never more to be separated, never more +to be pained, grieved, or aspersed;--but mutually blessing, and being +blessed, to all eternity! + +In the contemplation of this happy state, in which I hope, in God's good +time, to rejoice with you, my beloved Mrs. Norton, and also with my dear +relations, all reconciled to, and blessing the child against whom they +are now so much incensed, I conclude myself + +Your ever dutiful and affectionate +CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER VII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +SUNDAY, AUG. 13. + + +I don't know what a devil ails me; but I never was so much indisposed in +my life. At first, I thought some of my blessed relations here had got a +dose administered to me, in order to get the whole house to themselves. +But, as I am the hopes of the family, I believe they would not be so +wicked. + +I must lay down my pen. I cannot write with any spirit at all. What a +plague can be the matter with me! + + +*** + + +Lord M. paid me just now a cursed gloomy visit, to ask how I do after +bleeding. His sisters both drove away yesterday, God be thanked. But +they asked not my leave; and hardly bid me good-bye. My Lord was more +tender, and more dutiful, than I expected. Men are less unforgiving than +women. I have reason to say so, I am sure. For, besides implacable Miss +Harlowe, and the old Ladies, the two Montague apes han't been near me +yet. + + +*** + + +Neither eat, drink, nor sleep!--a piteous case, Jack! If I should die +like a fool now, people would say Miss Harlowe had broken my heart.--That +she vexes me to the heart, is certain. + +Confounded squeamish! I would fain write it off. But must lay down my +pen again. It won't do. Poor Lovelace!----What a devil ails thee? + + +*** + + +Well, but now let's try for't--Hoy--Hoy--Hoy! Confound me for a gaping +puppy, how I yawn!--Where shall I begin? at thy executorship--thou shalt +have a double office of it: for I really think thou mayest send me a +coffin and a shroud. I shall be ready for them by the time they can come +down. + +What a little fool is this Miss Harlowe! I warrant she'll now repent +that she refused me. Such a lovely young widow--What a charming widow +would she have made! how would she have adorned the weeds! to be a widow +in the first twelve months is one of the greatest felicities that can +befal a fine woman. Such pretty employment in new dismals, when she had +hardly worn round her blazing joyfuls! Such lights, and such shades! how +would they set off one another, and be adorned by the wearer!-- + +Go to the devil!--I will write!--Can I do anything else? + +They would not have me write, Belford.--I must be ill indeed, when I +can't write. + + +*** + + +But thou seemest nettled, Jack! Is it because I was stung? It is not +for two friends, any more than for man and wife, to be out of patience +at one time.--What must be the consequence if they are?--I am in no +fighting mood just now: but as patient and passive as the chickens that +are brought me in broth--for I am come to that already. + +But I can tell thee, for all this, be thy own man, if thou wilt, as to +the executorship, I will never suffer thee to expose my letters. They +are too ingenuous by half to be seen. And I absolutely insist upon it, +that, on receipt of this, thou burn them all. + +I will never forgive thee that impudent and unfriendly reflection, of my +cavaliering it here over half a dozen persons of distinction: remember, +too, thy words poor helpless orphan--these reflections are too serious, +and thou art also too serious, for me to let these things go off as +jesting; notwithstanding the Roman style* is preserved; and, indeed, but +just preserved. By my soul, Jack, if I had not been taken thus +egregiously cropsick, I would have been up with thee, and the lady too, +before now. + + +* For what these gentlemen mean by the Roman style, see Vol. I. Letter +XXXI. in the first note. + + +But write on, however: and send me copies, if thou canst, of all that +passes between our Charlotte and Miss Harlowe. I'll take no notice of +what thou communicatest of that sort. I like not the people here the +worse for their generous offer to the lady. But you see she is as proud +as implacable. There's no obliging her. She'd rather sell her clothes +than be beholden to any body, although she would oblige by permitting the +obligation. + +O Lord! O Lord!--Mortal ill!--Adieu, Jack! + + +*** + + +I was forced to leave off, I was so ill, at this place. And what dost +think! why Lord M. brought the parson of the parish to pray by me; for +his chaplain is at Oxford. I was lain down in my night-gown over my +waistcoat, and in a doze: and, when I opened my eyes, who should I see, +but the parson kneeling on one side the bed; Lord M. on the other; Mrs. +Greme, who had been sent for to tend me, as they call it, at the feet! +God be thanked, my Lord, said I in an ecstasy!--Where's Miss?--for I +supposed they were going to marry me. + +They thought me delirious at first; and prayed louder and louder. + +This roused me: off the bed I started; slid my feet into my slippers; +put my hand in my waistcoat pocket, and pulled out thy letter with my +beloved's meditation in it! My Lord, Dr. Wright, Mrs. Greme, you have +thought me a very wicked fellow: but, see! I can read you as good as you +can read me. + +They stared at one another. I gaped, and read, Poor mo--or--tals the +cau--o--ause of their own--their own mi--ser--ry. + +It is as suitable to my case, as to the lady's, as thou'lt observe, if +thou readest it again.* At the passage where it is said, That when a man +is chastened for sin, his beauty consumes away, I stept to the glass: A +poor figure, by Jupiter, cried I!--And they all praised and admired me; +lifted up their hands and their eyes; and the doctor said, he always +thought it impossible, that a man of my sense could be so wild as the +world said I was. My Lord chuckled for joy; congratulated me; and, thank +my dear Miss Harlowe, I got high reputation among good, bad, and +indifferent. In short, I have established myself for ever with all here. +--But, O Belford, even this will not do--I must leave off again. + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXXI. + + +*** + + +A visit from the Montague sisters, led in by the hobbling Peer, to +congratulate my amendment and reformation both in one. What a lucky +event this illness with this meditation in my pocket; for we were all to +pieces before! Thus, when a boy, have I joined with a crowd coming out +of church, and have been thought to have been there myself. + +I am incensed at the insolence of the young Levite. Thou wilt highly +oblige me, if thou'lt find him out, and send me his ears in the next +letter. + +My beloved mistakes me, if she thinks I proposed her writing to me as an +alternative that should dispense with my attendance upon her. That it +shall not do, nor did I intend it should, unless she pleased me better in +the contents of her letter than she has done. Bid her read again. I +gave no such hopes. I would have been with her in spite of you both, by +to-morrow, at farthest, had I not been laid by the heels thus, like a +helpless miscreant. + +But I grow better and better every hour, I say: the doctor says not: but +I am sure I know best: and I will soon be in London, depend on't. But +say nothing of this to my dear, cruel, and implacable Miss Harlowe. + +A--dieu--u, Ja--aack--What a gaping puppy (yaw--n! yaw--n! yaw--n!) + +Thy +LOVELACE. + + + +LETTER VIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +MONDAY, AUG. 15. + + +I am extremely concerned for thy illness. I should be very sorry to lose +thee. Yet, if thou diest so soon, I could wish, from my soul, it had +been before the beginning of last April: and this as well for thy sake, +as for the sake of the most excellent woman in the world: for then thou +wouldst not have had the most crying sin of thy life to answer for. + +I was told on Saturday that thou wert very much out of order; and this +made me forbear writing till I heard farther. Harry, on his return from +thee, confirmed the bad way thou art in. But I hope Lord M. in his +unmerited tenderness for thee, thinks the worst of thee. What can it be, +Bob.? A violent fever, they say; but attended with odd and severe +symptoms. + +I will not trouble thee in the way thou art in, with what passes here +with Miss Harlowe. I wish thy repentance as swift as thy illness; and as +efficacious, if thou diest; for it is else to be feared, that she and you +will never meet in one place. + +I told her how ill you are. Poor man! said she. Dangerously ill, say +you? + +Dangerously indeed, Madam!--So Lord M. sends me word! + +God be merciful to him, if he die!--said the admirable creature.--Then, +after a pause, Poor wretch!--may he meet with the mercy he has not shown! + +I send this by a special messenger: for I am impatient to hear how it +goes with thee.--If I have received thy last letter, what melancholy +reflections will that last, so full of shocking levity, give to + +Thy true friend, +JOHN BELFORD. + + + +LETTER IX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +TUESDAY, AUG. 15.* + + +* Text error: should be Aug. 16. + + +Thank thee, Jack; most heartily I thank thee, for the sober conclusion of +thy last!--I have a good mind, for the sake of it, to forgive thy till +now absolutely unpardonable extracts. + +But dost think I will lose such an angel, such a forgiving angel, as +this?--By my soul, I will not!--To pray for mercy for such an ungrateful +miscreant!--how she wounds me, how she cuts me to the soul, by her +exalted generosity!--But SHE must have mercy upon me first!--then will +she teach me a reliance for the sake of which her prayer for me will be +answered. + +But hasten, hasten to me particulars of her health, of her employments, +of her conversation. + +I am sick only of love! Oh! that I could have called her mine!--it would +then have been worth while to be sick!--to have sent for her down to me +from town; and to have had her, with healing in her dove-like wings, +flying to my comfort; her duty and her choice to pray for me, and to bid +me live for her sake!--O Jack! what an angel have I-- + +But I have not lost her!--I will not lose her! I am almost well; should +be quite well but for these prescribing rascals, who, to do credit to +their skill, will make the disease of importance.--And I will make her +mine!--and be sick again, to entitle myself to her dutiful tenderness, +and pious as well as personal concern! + +God for ever bless her!--Hasten, hasten particulars of her!--I am sick +of love!--such generous goodness!--By all that's great and good, I will +not lose her!--so tell her!--She says, that she could not pity me, if she +thought of being mine! This, according to Miss Howe's transcriptions to +Charlotte.--But bid her hate me, and have me: and my behaviour to her +shall soon turn that hate to love! for, body and mind, I will be wholly +her's. + + + +LETTER X + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +THURSDAY, AUG. 17. + + +I am sincerely rejoiced to hear that thou art already so much amended, as +thy servant tells me thou art. Thy letter looks as if thy morals were +mending with thy health. This was a letter I could show, as I did, to +the lady. + +She is very ill: (cursed letters received from her implacable family!) so +I could not have much conversation with her, in thy favour, upon it.--But +what passed will make thee more and more adore her. + +She was very attentive to me, as I read it; and, when I had done, Poor +man! said she; what a letter is this! He had timely instances that my +temper was not ungenerous, if generosity could have obliged him! But his +remorse, and that for his own sake, is all the punishment I wish him.-- +Yet I must be more reserved, if you write to him every thing I say! + +I extolled her unbounded goodness--how could I help it, though to her +face! + +No goodness in it! she said--it was a frame of mind she had endeavoured +after for her own sake. She suffered too much in want of mercy, not to +wish it to a penitent heart. He seems to be penitent, said she; and it +is not for me to judge beyond appearances.--If he be not, he deceives +himself more than any body else. + +She was so ill that this was all that passed on the occasion. + +What a fine subject for tragedy, would the injuries of this lady, and her +behaviour under them, both with regard to her implacable friends, and to +her persecutor, make! With a grand objection as to the moral, +nevertheless;* for here virtue is punished! Except indeed we look +forward to the rewards of HEREAFTER, which, morally, she must be sure of, +or who can? Yet, after all, I know not, so sad a fellow art thou, and so +vile an husband mightest thou have made, whether her virtue is not +rewarded in missing thee: for things the most grievous to human nature, +when they happen, as this charming creature once observed, are often the +happiest for us in the event. + + +* Mr. Belford's objections, That virtue ought not to suffer in a tragedy, +is not well considered: Monimia in the Orphean, Belvidera in Venice +Preserved, Athenais in Theodosius, Cordelia in Shakespeare's King Lear, +Desdemona in Othello, Hamlet, (to name no more,) are instances that a +tragedy could hardly be justly called a tragedy, if virtue did not +temporarily suffer, and vice for a while triumph. But he recovers +himself in the same paragraph; and leads us to look up to the FUTURE for +the reward of virtue, and for the punishment of guilt: and observes not +amiss, when he says, He knows not but that the virtue of such a woman as +Clarissa is rewarded in missing such a man as Lovelace. + + +I have frequently thought, in my attendance on this lady, that if +Belton's admired author, Nic. Rowe, had had such a character before him, +he would have drawn another sort of penitent than he has done, or given +his play, which he calls The Fair Penitent, a fitter title. Miss Harlowe +is a penitent indeed! I think, if I am not guilty of a contradiction in +terms; a penitent without a fault; her parents' conduct towards her from +the first considered. + +The whole story of the other is a pack of d----d stuff. Lothario, 'tis +true, seems such another wicked ungenerous varlet as thou knowest who: +the author knew how to draw a rake; but not to paint a penitent. Calista +is a desiring luscious wench, and her penitence is nothing else but rage, +insolence, and scorn. Her passions are all storm and tumult; nothing of +the finer passions of the sex, which, if naturally drawn, will +distinguish themselves from the masculine passions, by a softness that +will even shine through rage and despair. Her character is made up of +deceit and disguise. She has no virtue; is all pride; and her devil is +as much within her, as without her. + +How then can the fall of such a one create a proper distress, when all +the circumstances of it are considered? For does she not brazen out her +crime, even after detection? Knowing her own guilt, she calls for +Altamont's vengeance on his best friend, as if he had traduced her; +yields to marry Altamont, though criminal with another; and actually beds +that whining puppy, when she had given up herself, body and soul, to +Lothario; who, nevertheless, refused to marry her. + +Her penitence, when begun, she justly styles the phrensy of her soul; +and, as I said, after having, as long as she could, most audaciously +brazened out her crime, and done all the mischief she could do, +(occasioning the death of Lothario, of her father, and others,) she stabs +herself. + +And can this be the act of penitence? + +But, indeed, our poets hardly know how to create a distress without +horror, murder, and suicide; and must shock your soul, to bring tears +from your eyes. + +Altamont indeed, who is an amorous blockhead, a credulous cuckold, and, +(though painted as a brave fellow, and a soldier,) a mere Tom. Essence, +and a quarreler with his best friend, dies like a fool, (as we are led to +suppose at the conclusion of the play,) without either sword or pop-gun, +of mere grief and nonsense for one of the vilest of her sex: but the Fair +Penitent, as she is called, perishes by her own hand; and, having no +title by her past crimes to laudable pity, forfeits all claim to true +penitence, and, in all probability, to future mercy. + +But here is Miss CLARISSA HARLOWE, a virtuous, noble, wise, and pious +young lady; who being ill used by her friends, and unhappily ensnared by +a vile libertine, whom she believes to be a man of honour, is in a manner +forced to throw herself upon his protection. And he, in order to obtain +her confidence, never scruples the deepest and most solemn protestations +of honour. + +After a series of plots and contrivances, all baffled by her virtue and +vigilance, he basely has recourse to the vilest of arts, and, to rob her +of her honour, is forced first to rob her of her senses. + +Unable to bring her, notwithstanding, to his ungenerous views of +cohabitation, she over-awes him in the very entrance of a fresh act of +premeditated guilt, in presence of the most abandoned of women assembled +to assist his devilish purpose; triumphs over them all, by virtue only of +her innocence; and escapes from the vile hands he had put her into. + +She nobly, not franticly, resents: refuses to see or to marry the wretch; +who, repenting his usage of so divine a creature, would fain move her to +forgive his baseness, and make him her husband: and this, though +persecuted by all her friends, and abandoned to the deepest distress, +being obliged, from ample fortunes, to make away with her apparel for +subsistence; surrounded also by strangers, and forced (in want of others) +to make a friend of the friend of her seducer. + +Though longing for death, and making all proper preparations for it, +convinced that grief and ill usage have broken her noble heart, she +abhors the impious thought of shortening her allotted period; and, as +much a stranger to revenge as despair, is able to forgive the author of +her ruin; wishes his repentance, and that she may be the last victim to +his barbarous perfidy: and is solicitous for nothing so much in this +life, as to prevent vindictive mischief to and from the man who used her +so basely. + +This is penitence! This is piety! And hence distress naturally arises, +that must worthily effect every heart. + +Whatever the ill usage of this excellent woman is from her relations, she +breaks not out into excesses: she strives, on the contrary, to find +reason to justify them at her own expense; and seems more concerned for +their cruelty to her for their sakes hereafter, when she shall be no +more, than for her own: for, as to herself, she is sure, she says, God +will forgive her, though no one on earth will. + +On every extraordinary provocation she has recourse to the Scriptures, +and endeavours to regulate her vehemence by sacred precedents. 'Better +people, she says, have been more afflicted than she, grievous as she +sometimes thinks her afflictions: and shall she not bear what less faulty +persons have borne?' On the very occasion I have mentioned, (some new +instances of implacableness from her friends,) the enclosed meditation +will show how mildly, and yet how forcibly, she complains. See if thou, +in the wicked levity of thy heart, canst apply it to thy cause, as thou +didst the other. If thou canst not, give way to thy conscience, and that +will make the properest application. + + +MEDITATION + +How long will ye vex my soul, and break me in pieces with words! + +Be it indeed that I have erred, mine error remaineth with myself. + +To her that is afflicted, pity should be shown from her friend. + +But she that is ready to slip with her feet, is as a lamp despised in the +thought of them that are at ease. + +There is a shame which bringeth sin, and there is a shame which bringeth +glory and grace. + +Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye, my friends! for the hand of +God hath touched me. + +If your soul were in my soul's stead, I also could speak as ye do: I +could heap up words against you-- + +But I would strengthen you with my mouth, and the moving of my lips +should assuage your grief. + +Why will ye break a leaf driven to and fro? Why will ye pursue the dry +stubble? Why will ye write bitter words against me, and make me possess +the iniquities of my youth? + +Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as clouds of rain in the +time of drought. + +Are not my days few? Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take +comfort a little--before I go whence I shall not return; even to the land +of darkness, and shadow of death! + + +Let me add, that the excellent lady is informed, by a letter from Mrs. +Norton, that Colonel Morden is just arrived in England. He is now the +only person she wishes to see. + +I expressed some jealousy upon it, lest he should have place given over +me in the executorship. She said, That she had no thoughts to do so now; +because such a trust, were he to accept of it, (which she doubted,) +might, from the nature of some of the papers which in that case would +necessarily pass through his hands, occasion mischiefs between my friend +and him, that would be worse than death for her to think of. + +Poor Belton, I hear, is at death's door. A messenger is just come from +him, who tells me he cannot die till he sees me. I hope the poor fellow +will not go off yet; since neither his affairs of this world, nor for the +other, are in tolerable order. I cannot avoid going to the poor man. +Yet am unwilling to stir, till I have an assurance from you that you will +not disturb the lady: for I know he will be very loth to part with me, +when he gets me to him. + +Tourville tells me how fast thou mendest: let me conjure thee not to +think of molesting this incomparable woman. For thy own sake I request +this, as well as for her's, and for the sake of thy given promise: for, +should she die within a few weeks, as I fear she will, it will be said, +and perhaps too justly, that thy visit has hastened her end. + +In hopes thou wilt not, I wish thy perfect recovery: else that thou +mayest relapse, and be confined to thy bed. + + + +LETTER XI + +MR. BELFORD, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +SAT. MORN. AUG. 19. + + +MADAM, + +I think myself obliged in honour to acquaint you that I am afraid Mr. +Lovelace will try his fate by an interview with you. + +I wish to Heaven you could prevail upon yourself to receive his visit. +All that is respectful, even to veneration, and all that is penitent, +will you see in his behaviour, if you can admit of it. But as I am +obliged to set out directly for Epsom, (to perform, as I apprehend, the +last friendly offices for poor Mr. Belton, whom once you saw,) and as I +think it more likely that Mr. Lovelace will not be prevailed upon, than +that he will, I thought fit to give you this intimation, lest, if he +should come, you should be too much surprised. + +He flatters himself that you are not so ill as I represent you to be. +When he sees you, he will be convinced that the most obliging things he +can do, will be as proper to be done for the sake of his own future peace +of mind, as for your health-sake; and, I dare say, in fear of hurting the +latter, he will forbear the thoughts of any farther intrusion; at least +while you are so much indisposed: so that one half-hour's shock, if it +will be a shock to see the unhappy man, (but just got up himself from a +dangerous fever,) will be all you will have occasion to stand. + +I beg you will not too much hurry and discompose yourself. It is +impossible he can be in town till Monday, at soonest. And if he resolve +to come, I hope to be at Mr. Smith's before him. + +I am, Madam, with the profoundest veneration, + +Your most faithful and most obedient servant, +J. BELFORD. + + + +LETTER XII +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +[IN ANSWER TO HIS OF AUG. 17. SEE LETTER X. OF THIS VOLUME.] +SUNDAY, AUG. 20. + + +What an unmerciful fellow art thou! A man has no need of a conscience, +who has such an impertinent monitor. But if Nic. Rowe wrote a play that +answers not his title, am I to be reflected upon for that?--I have +sinned; I repent; I would repair--she forgives my sin: she accepts my +repentance: but she won't let me repair--What wouldst thou have me do? + +But get thee gone to Belton, as soon as thou canst. Yet whether thou +goest or not, up I must go, and see what I can do with the sweet oddity +myself. The moment these prescribing varlets will let me, depend +upon it, I go. Nay, Lord M. thinks she ought to permit me one interview. +His opinion has great authority with me--when it squares with my own: and +I have assured him, and my two cousins, that I will behave with all the +decency and respect that man can behave with to the person whom he most +respects. And so I will. Of this, if thou choosest not to go to Belton +mean time, thou shalt be witness. + +Colonel Morden, thou hast heard me say, is a man of honour and bravery:-- +but Colonel Morden has had his girls, as well as you or I. And indeed, +either openly or secretly, who has not? The devil always baits with a +pretty wench, when he angles for a man, be his age, rank, or degree, what +it will. + +I have often heard my beloved speak of the Colonel with great distinction +and esteem. I wish he could make matters a little easier, for her mind's +sake, between the rest of the implacables and herself. + +Methinks I am sorry for honest Belton. But a man cannot be ill, or +vapourish, but thou liftest up thy shriek-owl note, and killest him +immediately. None but a fellow, who is for a drummer in death's +forlorn-hope, could take so much delight, as thou dost, in beating a +dead-march with thy goose-quills. Whereas, didst thou but know thine own +talents, thou art formed to give mirth by thy very appearance; and +wouldst make a better figure by half, leading up thy brother-bears at +Hockley in the Hole, to the music of a Scot's bagpipe. Methinks I see +thy clumsy sides shaking, (and shaking the sides of all beholders,) in +these attitudes; thy fat head archly beating time on thy porterly +shoulders, right and left by turns, as I once beheld thee practising to +the horn-pipe at Preston. Thou remembrest the frolick, as I have done +an hundred times; for I never before saw thee appear so much in +character. + +But I know what I shall get by this--only that notable observation +repeated, That thy outside is the worst of thee, and mine the best of me. +And so let it be. Nothing thou writest of this sort can I take amiss. + +But I shall call thee seriously to account, when I see thee, for the +extracts thou hast given the lady from my letters, notwithstanding what I +said in my last; especially if she continue to refuse me. An hundred +times have I myself known a woman deny, yet comply at last: but, by these +extracts, thou hast, I doubt, made her bar up the door of her heart, as +she used to do her chamber-door, against me.--This therefore is a +disloyalty that friendship cannot bear, nor honour allow me to forgive. + + + +LETTER XIII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +LONDON, AUG. 21, MONDAY. + + +I believe I am bound to curse thee, Jack. Nevertheless I won't +anticipate, but proceed to write thee a longer letter than thou hast had +from me for some time past. So here goes. + +That thou mightest have as little notice as possible of the time I was +resolved to be in town, I set out in my Lord's chariot-and-six yesterday, +as soon as I had dispatched my letter to thee, and arrived in town last +night: for I knew I could have no dependence on thy friendship where Miss +Harlowe's humour was concerned. + +I had no other place so ready, and so was forced to go to my old +lodgings, where also my wardrobe is; and there I poured out millions of +curses upon the whole crew, and refused to see either Sally or Polly; and +this not only for suffering the lady to escape, but for the villanous +arrest, and for their detestable insolence to her at the officer's house. + +I dressed myself in a never-worn suit, which I had intended for one of my +wedding-suits; and liked myself so well, that I began to think, with +thee, that my outside was the best of me: + +I took a chair to Smith's, my heart bounding in almost audible thumps to +my throat, with the assured expectations of seeing my beloved. I clasped +my fingers, as I was danced along: I charged my eyes to languish and +sparkle by turns: I talked to my knees, telling them how they must bend; +and, in the language of a charming describer, acted my part in fancy, as +well as spoke it to myself. + + Tenderly kneeling, thus will I complain: + Thus court her pity; and thus plead my pain: + Thus sigh for fancy'd frowns, if frowns should rise; + And thus meet favour in her soft'ning eyes. + +In this manner entertained I myself till I arrived at Smith's; and there +the fellows set down their gay burden. Off went their hats; Will. ready +at hand in a new livery; up went the head; out rushed my honour; the +woman behind the counter all in flutters, respect and fear giving due +solemnity to her features, and her knees, I doubt not, knocking against +the inside of her wainscot-fence. + +Your servant, Madam--Will. let the fellows move to some distance, and +wait. + +You have a young lady lodges here; Miss Harlowe, Madam: Is she above? + +Sir, Sir, and please your Honour: [the woman is struck with my figure, +thought I:] Miss Harlowe, Sir! There is, indeed, such a young lady +lodges here--But, but-- + +But, what, Madam?--I must see her.--One pair of stairs; is it not?-- +Don't trouble yourself--I shall find her apartment. And was making +towards the stairs. + +Sir, Sir, the lady, the lady is not at home--she is abroad--she is in the +country-- + +In the country! Not at home!--Impossible! You will not pass this story +upon me, good woman. I must see her. I have business of life and death +with her. + +Indeed, Sir, the lady is not at home! Indeed, Sir, she is abroad!-- + +She then rung a bell: John, cried she, pray step down!--Indeed, Sir, the +lady is not at home. + +Down came John, the good man of the house, when I expected one of his +journeymen, by her saucy familiarity. + +My dear, said she, the gentleman will not believe Miss Harlowe is abroad. + +John bowed to my fine clothes: Your servant, Sir,--indeed the lady is +abroad. She went out of town this morning by six o'clock--into the +country--by the doctor's advice. + +Still I would not believe either John or his wife. I am sure, said I, +she cannot be abroad. I heard she was very ill--she is not able to go +out in a coach. Do you know Mr. Belford, friend? + +Yes, Sir; I have the honour to know 'Squire Belford. He is gone into the +country to visit a sick friend. He went on Saturday, Sir. + +This had also been told from thy lodgings to Will. whom I sent to desire +to see thee on my first coming to town. + +Well, and Mr. Belford wrote me word that she was exceeding ill. How then +can she be gone out? + +O Sir, she is very ill; very ill, indeed--she could hardly walk to the +coach. + +Belford, thought I, himself knew nothing of the time of my coming; +neither can he have received my letter of yesterday: and so ill, 'tis +impossible she would go out. + +Where is her servant? Call her servant to me. + +Her servant, Sir, is her nurse: she has no other. And she is gone with +her. + +Well, friend, I must not believe you. You'll excuse me; but I must go up +stairs myself. And was stepping up. + +John hereupon put on a serious, and a less respectful face--Sir, this +house is mine; and-- + +And what, friend? not doubting then but she was above.--I must and will +see her. I have authority for it. I am a justice of the peace. I have +a search warrant. + +And up I went; they following me, muttering, and in a plaguy flutter. + +The first door I came to was locked. I tapped at it. + +The lady, Sir, has the key of her own apartment. + +On the inside, I question not, my honest friend; tapping again. And +being assured, if she heard my voice, that her timorous and soft temper +would make her betray herself, by some flutters, to my listning ear, I +said aloud, I am confident Miss Harlowe is here: dearest Madam, open the +door: admit me but for one moment to your presence. + +But neither answer nor fluttering saluted my ear; and, the people being +very quiet, I led on to the next apartment; and, the key being on the +outside, I opened it, and looked all around it, and into the closet. + +The man said he never saw so uncivil a gentleman in his life. + +Hark thee, friend, said I; let me advise thee to be a little decent; or +I shall teach thee a lesson thou never learnedst in all thy life. + +Sir, said he, 'tis not like a gentleman, to affront a man in his own +house. + +Then prythee, man, replied I, don't crow upon thine own dunghil. + +I stept back to the locked door: My dear Miss Harlowe, I beg of you to +open the door, or I'll break it open;--pushing hard against it, that it +cracked again. + +The man looked pale: and, trembling with his fright, made a plaguy long +face; and called to one of his bodice-makers above, Joseph, come down +quickly. + +Joseph came down: a lion's-face grinning fellow; thick, and short, and +bushy-headed, like an old oak-pollard. Then did master John put on a +sturdier look. But I only hummed a tune, traversed all the other +apartments, sounded the passages with my knuckles, to find whether there +were private doors, and walked up the next pair of stairs, singing all +the way; John and Joseph, and Mrs. Smith, following me up, trembling. + +I looked round me there, and went into two open-door bed-chambers; +searched the closets, and the passages, and peeped through the key-hole +of another: no Miss Harlowe, by Jupiter! What shall I do!--what shall I +do! as the girls say.--Now will she be grieved that she is out of the +way. + +I said this on purpose to find out whether these people knew the lady's +story; and had the answer I expected from Mrs. Smith--I believe not, Sir. + +Why so, Mrs. Smith? Do you know who I am? + +I can guess, Sir. + +Whom do you guess me to be? + +Your name is Mr. Lovelace, Sir, I make no doubt. + +The very same. But how came you to guess so well, dame Smith! You never +saw me before, did you? + +Here, Jack, I laid out for a compliment, and missed it. + +'Tis easy to guess, Sir; for there cannot be two such gentlemen as you. + +Well said, dame Smith--but mean you good or bad?--Handsome was the least +I thought she would have said. + +I leave you to guess, Sir. + +Condemned, thought I, by myself, on this appeal. + +Why, father Smith, thy wife is a wit, man!--Didst thou ever find that out +before?--But where is widow Lovick, dame Smith? My cousin John Belford +says she is a very good woman. Is she within? or is she gone with Miss +Harlowe too? + +She will be within by-and-by, Sir. She is not with the lady. + +Well, but my good dear Mrs. Smith, where is the lady gone? and when will +she return? + +I can't tell, Sir. + +Don't tell fibs, dame Smith; don't tell fibs, chucking her under the +chin: which made John's upper-lip, with chin shortened, rise to his nose. +--I am sure you know!--But here's another pair of stairs: let us see: Who +lives up there?--but hold, here's another room locked up, tapping at the +door--Who's at home? cried I. + +That's Mrs. Lovick's apartment. She is gone out, and has the key with +her. + +Widow Lovick! rapping again, I believe you are at home: pray open the +door. + +John and Joseph muttered and whispered together. + +No whispering, honest friends: 'tis not manners to whisper. Joseph, what +said John to thee? + +JOHN! Sir, disdainfully repeated the good woman. + +I beg pardon, Mrs. Smith: but you see the force of example. Had you +showed your honest man more respect, I should. Let me give you a piece +of advice--women who treat their husbands irreverently, teach strangers +to use them with contempt. There, honest master John; why dost not pull +off thy hat to me?--Oh! so thou wouldst, if thou hadst it on: but thou +never wearest thy hat in thy wife's presence, I believe; dost thou? + +None of your fleers and your jeers, Sir, cried John. I wish every +married pair lived as happily as we do. + +I wish so too, honest friend. But I'll be hanged if thou hast any +children. + +Why so, Sir? + +Hast thou?--Answer me, man: Hast thou, or not? + +Perhaps not, Sir. But what of that? + +What of that?--Why I'll tell thee: The man who has no children by his +wife must put up with plain John. Hadst thou a child or two, thou'dst be +called Mr. Smith, with a courtesy, or a smile at least, at every word. + +You are very pleasant, Sir, replied my dame. I fancy, if either my +husband or I had as much to answer for as I know whom, we should not be +so merry. + +Why then, dame Smith, so much the worse for those who were obliged to +keep you company. But I am not merry--I am sad!--Hey-ho!--Where shall I +find my dear Miss Harlowe? + +My beloved Miss Harlowe! [calling at the foot of the third pair of +stairs,] if you are above, for Heaven's sake answer me. I am coming up. + +Sir, said the good man, I wish you'd walk down. The servants' rooms, and +the working-rooms, are up those stairs, and another pair; and nobody's +there that you want. + +Shall I go up, and see if Miss Harlowe be there, Mrs. Smith? + +You may, Sir, if you please. + +Then I won't; for, if she was, you would not be so obliging. + +I am ashamed to give you all this attendance: you are the politest +traders I ever knew. Honest Joseph, slapping him upon the shoulders on +a sudden, which made him jump, didst ever grin for a wager, man?--for the +rascal seemed not displeased with me; and, cracking his flat face from +ear to ear, with a distended mouth, showed his teeth, as broad and as +black as his thumb-nails.--But don't I hinder thee? What canst earn +a-day, man? + +Half-a-crown I can earn a-day; with an air of pride and petulance, at +being startled. + +There then is a day's wages for thee. But thou needest not attend me +farther. + +Come, Mrs. Smith, come John, (Master Smith I should say,) let's walk +down, and give me an account where the lady is gone, and when she will +return. + +So down stairs led I. John and Joseph (though I had discharged the +latter,) and my dame, following me, to show their complaisance to a +stranger. + +I re-entered one of the first-floor rooms. I have a great mind to be +your lodger: for I never saw such obliging folks in my life. What rooms +have you to let? + +None at all, Sir. + +I am sorry for that. But whose is this? + +Mine, Sir, chuffily said John. + +Thine, man! why then I will take it of thee. This, and a bed-chamber, +and a garret for one servant, will content me. I will give thee thine +own price, and half a guinea a day over, for those conveniencies. + +For ten guineas a day, Sir-- + +Hold, John! (Master Smith I should say)--Before thou speakest, consider-- +I won't be affronted, man. + +Sir, I wish you'd walk down, said the good woman. Really, Sir, you +take-- + +Great liberties I hope you would not say, Mrs. Smith? + +Indeed, Sir, I was going to say something like it. + +Well, then, I am glad I prevented you; for such words better become my +mouth than yours. But I must lodge with you till the lady returns. I +believe I must. However, you may be wanted in the shop; so we'll talk +that over there. + +Down I went, they paying diligent attendance on my steps. + +When I came into the shop, seeing no chair or stool, I went behind the +compter, and sat down under an arched kind of canopy of carved work, +which these proud traders, emulating the royal niche-fillers, often give +themselves, while a joint-stool, perhaps, serves those by whom they get +their bread: such is the dignity of trade in this mercantile nation! + +I looked about me, and above me; and told them I was very proud of my +seat; asking, if John were ever permitted to fill this superb niche? + +Perhaps he was, he said, very surlily. + +That is it that makes thee looks so like a statue, man. + +John looked plaguy glum upon me. But his man Joseph and my man Will. +turned round with their backs to us, to hide their grinning, with each +his fist in his mouth. + +I asked, what it was they sold? + +Powder, and wash-balls, and snuff, they said; and gloves and stockings. + +O come, I'll be your customer. Will. do I want wash-balls? + +Yes, and please your Honour, you can dispense with one or two. + +Give him half a dozen, dame Smith. + +She told me she must come where I was, to serve them. Pray, Sir, walk +from behind the compter. + +Indeed but I won't. The shop shall be mine. Where are they, if a +customer shall come in? + +She pointed over my head, with a purse mouth, as if she would not have +simpered, could she have helped it. I reached down the glass, and gave +Will. six. There--put 'em up, Sirrah. + +He did, grinning with his teeth out before; which touching my conscience, +as the loss of them was owing to me, Joseph, said I, come hither. Come +hither, man, when I bid thee. + +He stalked towards me, his hands behind him, half willing, and half +unwilling. + +I suddenly wrapt my arm round his neck. Will. thy penknife, this moment. +D----n the fellow, where's thy penknife? + +O Lord! said the pollard-headed dog, struggling to get his head loose +from under my arm, while my other hand was muzzling about his cursed +chaps, as if I would take his teeth out. + +I will pay thee a good price, man: don't struggle thus? The penknife, +Will.! + +O Lord, cried Joseph, struggling still more and more: and out comes +Will.'s pruning-knife; for the rascal is a gardener in the country. I +have only this, Sir. + +The best in the world to launch a gum. D----n the fellow, why dost +struggle thus? + +Master and Mistress Smith being afraid, I suppose, that I had a design +upon Joseph's throat, because he was their champion, (and this, indeed, +made me take the more notice of him,) coming towards me with countenances +tragic-comical, I let him go. + +I only wanted, said I, to take out two or three of this rascal's broad +teeth, to put them into my servant's jaws--and I would have paid him his +price for them.--I would by my soul, Joseph. + +Joseph shook his ears; and with both hands stroked down, smooth as it +would lie, his bushy hair; and looked at me as if he knew not whether he +should laugh or be angry: but, after a stupid stare or two, stalked off +to the other end of the shop, nodding his head at me as he went, still +stroking down his hair; and took his stand by his master, facing about +and muttering, that I was plaguy strong in the arms, and he thought would +have throttled him. Then folding his arms, and shaking his bristled +head, added, 'twas well I was a gentleman, or he would not have taken +such an affront. + +I demanded where their rappee was? the good woman pointed to the place; +and I took up a scollop-shell of it, refusing to let her weight it, and +filled my box. And now, Mrs. Smith, said I, where are your gloves? + +She showed me; and I chose four pair of them, and set Joseph, who looked +as if he wanted to be taken notice of again, to open the fingers. + +A female customer, who had been gaping at the door, came in for some +Scots sniff; and I would serve her. The wench was plaguy homely; and I +told her so; or else, I said, I would have treated her. She, in anger, +[no woman is homely in her own opinion,] threw down her penny; and I put +it in my pocket. + +Just then, turning my eye to the door, I saw a pretty, genteel lady, with +a footman after her, peeping in with a What's the matter, good folks? to +the starers; and I ran to her from behind the compter, and, as she was +making off, took her hand, and drew her into the shop; begging that she +would be my customer; for that I had but just begun trade. + +What do you sell, Sir? said she, smiling; but a little surprised. + +Tapes, ribbands, silk laces, pins, and needles; for I am a pedlar: +powder, patches, wash-balls, stockings, garters, snuffs, and pin +cushions--Don't we, goody Smith? + +So in I gently drew her to the compter, running behind it myself, with an +air of great dilingence and obligingness. I have excellent gloves and +wash-balls, Madam: rappee, Scots, Portugal, and all sorts of snuff. + +Well, said she, in a very good humour, I'll encourage a young beginner +for once. Here, Andrew, [to her footman,] you want a pair of gloves, +don't you? + +I took down a parcel of gloves, which Mrs. Smith pointed to, and came +round to the fellow to fit them on myself. + +No matter for opening them, said I: thy fingers, friend, are as stiff as +drum-sticks. Push!--Thou'rt an awkward dog! I wonder such a pretty lady +will be followed by such a clumsy varlet. + +The fellow had no strength for laughing: and Joseph was mightily pleased, +in hopes, I suppose, I would borrow a few of Andrew's teeth, to keep him +in countenance: and, father and mother Smith, like all the world, as the +jest was turned from themselves, seemed diverted with the humour. + +The fellow said the gloves were too little. + +Thrust, and be d----d to thee, said I: why, fellow, thou hast not the +strength of a cat. + +Sir, Sir, said he, laughing, I shall hurt your Honour's side. + +D----n thee, thrust I say. + +He did; and burst out the sides of the glove. + +Will. said I, where's thy pruning-knife? By my soul, friend, I had a +good mind to pare thy cursed paws. But come, here's a larger pair: try +them, when thou gettest home; and let thy sweetheart, if thou hast one, +mend the other, so take both. + +The lady laughed at the humour; as did my fellow, and Mrs. Smith, and +Joseph: even John laughed, though he seemed by the force put upon his +countenance to be but half pleased with me neither. + +Madam, said I, and stepped behind the compter, bowing over it, now I hope +you will buy something for yourself. Nobody shall use you better, nor +sell you cheaper. + +Come, said she, give me six-penny worth of Portugal snuff. + +They showed me where it was, and I served her; and said, when she would +have paid me, I took nothing at my opening. + +If I treated her footman, she told me, I should not treat her. + +Well, with all my heart, said I: 'tis not for us tradesmen to be saucy-- +Is it, Mrs. Smith? + +I put her sixpence in my pocket; and, seizing her hand, took notice to +her of the crowd that had gathered about the door, and besought her to +walk into the back-shop with me. + +She struggled her hand out of mine, and would stay no longer. + +So I bowed, and bid her kindly welcome, and thanked her, and hoped I +should have her custom another time. + +She went away smiling; and Andrew after her; who made me a fine bow. + +I began to be out of countenance at the crowd, which thickened apace; and +bid Will. order the chair to the door. + +Well, Mrs. Smith, with a grave air, I am heartily sorry Miss Harlowe is +abroad. You don't tell me where she is? + +Indeed, Sir, I cannot. + +You will not, you mean.--She could have no notion of my coming. I came +to town but last night. I have been very ill. She has almost broken my +heart by her cruelty. You know my story, I doubt not. Tell her, I must +go out of town to-morrow morning. But I will send my servant, to know if +she will favour me with one half-hour's conversation; for, as soon as I +get down, I shall set out for Dover, in my way to France, if I have not a +countermand from her, who has the sole disposal of my fate. + +And so flinging down a Portugal six-and-thirty, I took Mr. Smith by the +hand, telling him, I was sorry we had not more time to be better +acquainted; and bidding farewell to honest Joseph, (who pursed up his +mouth as I passed by him, as if he thought his teeth still in jeopardy,) +and Mrs. Smith adieu, and to recommend me to her fair lodger, hummed an +air, and, the chair being come, whipt into it; the people about the door +seeming to be in good humour with me; one crying, a pleasant gentleman, I +warrant him! and away I was carried to White's, according to direction. + +As soon as I came thither, I ordered Will. to go and change his clothes, +and to disguise himself by putting on his black wig, and keeping his +mouth shut; and then to dodge about Smith's, to inform himself of the +lady's motions. + + +*** + + +I give thee this impudent account of myself, that thou mayest rave at me, +and call me hardened, and what thou wilt. For, in the first place, I, +who had been so lately ill, was glad I was alive; and then I was so +balked by my charmer's unexpected absence, and so ruffled by that, and by +the bluff treatment of father John, that I had no other way to avoid +being out of humour with all I met with. Moreover I was rejoiced to +find, by the lady's absence, and by her going out at six in the morning, +that it was impossible she should be so ill as thou representest her to +be; and this gave me still higher spirits. Then I know the sex always +love cheerful and humourous fellows. The dear creature herself used to +be pleased with my gay temper and lively manner; and had she been told +that I was blubbering for her in the back-shop, she would have despised +me still more than she does. + +Furthermore, I was sensible that the people of the house must needs have +a terrible notion of me, as a savage, bloody-minded, obdurate fellow; a +perfect woman-eater; and, no doubt, expected to see me with the claws of +a lion, and the fangs of a tiger; and it was but policy to show them what +a harmless pleasant fellow I am, in order to familiarize the Johns and +the Josephs to me. For it was evident to me, by the good woman's calling +them down, that she thought me a dangerous man. Whereas now, John and I +have shaken hands together, and dame Smith having seen that I have the +face, and hands, and looks of a man, and walk upright, and prate, and +laugh, and joke, like other people; and Joseph, that I can talk of taking +his teeth out of his head, without doing him the least hurt; they will +all, at my next visit, be much more easy and pleasant to me than Andrew's +gloves were to him; and we shall be as thoroughly acquainted, as if we +had known one another a twelvemonth. + +When I returned to our mother's, I again cursed her and all her nymphs +together; and still refused to see either Sally or Polly! I raved at the +horrid arrest; and told the old dragon that it was owing to her and her's +that the fairest virtue in the world was ruined; my reputation for ever +blasted; and that I was not married and perfectly happy in the love of +the most excellent of her sex. + +She, to pacify me, said she would show me a new face that would please +me; since I would not see my Sally, who was dying with grief. + +Where is this new face? cried I: let me see her, though I shall never see +any face with pleasure but Miss Harlowe's. + +She won't come down, replied she. She will not be at the word of command +yet. She is but just in the trammels; and must be waited upon, I'll +assure you; and courted much besides. + +Ay! said I, that looks well. Lead me to her this instant. + +I followed her up: and who should she be, but that little toad Sally! + +O curse you, said I, for a devil! Is it you? is your's the new face? + +O my dear, dear Mr. Lovelace! cried she, I am glad any thing will bring +you to me!--and so the little beast threw herself about my neck, and +there clung like a cat. Come, said she, what will you give me, and I'll +be as virtuous for a quarter of an hour, and mimic your Clarissa to the +life? + +I was Belforded all over. I could not bear such an insult upon the dear +creature, (for I have a soft and generous nature in the main, whatever +thou thinkest;) and cursed her most devoutly, for taking my beloved's +name in her mouth in such a way. But the little devil was not to be +balked; but fell a crying, sobbing, praying, begging, exclaiming, +fainting, that I never saw my lovely girl so well aped. Indeed I was +almost taken in; for I could have fancied I had her before me once more. + +O this sex! this artful sex! there's no minding them. At first, indeed, +their grief and their concern may be real: but, give way to the +hurricane, and it will soon die away in soft murmurs, thrilling upon your +ears like the notes of a well-tuned viol. And, by Sally, one sees that +art will generally so well supply the place of nature, that you shall not +easily know the difference. Miss Clarisa Harlowe, indeed, is the only +woman in the world I believe that can say, in the words of her favourite +Job, (for I can quote a text as well as she,) But it is not so with me. + +They were very inquisitive about my fair-one. They told me that you +seldom came near them; that, when you did, you put on plaguy grave airs; +would hardly stay five minutes; and did nothing but praise Miss Harlowe, +and lament her hard fate. In short, that you despised them; was full of +sentences; and they doubted not, in a little while, would be a lost man, +and marry. + +A pretty character for thee, is it not? thou art in a blessed way; yet +hast nothing to do but to go on in it: and then what work hast thou to go +through! If thou turnest back, these sorceresses will be like the czar's +cossacks, [at Pultowa, I think it was,] who were planted with ready +primed and cocked pieces behind the regulars, in order to shoot them +dead, if they did not push on and conquer; and then wilt thou be most +lamentably despised by every harlot thou hast made--and, O Jack, how +formidable, in that case, will be the number of thy enemies! + +I intend to regulate my motions by Will.'s intelligence; for see this +dear creature I must and will. Yet I have promised Lord M. to be down in +two or three days at farthest; for he is grown plaguy fond of me since I +was ill. + +I am in hopes that the word I left, that I am to go out of town to-morrow +morning, will soon bring the lady back again. + +Mean time, I thought I would write to divert thee, while thou art of such +importance about the dying; and as thy servant, it seems, comes backward +and forward every day, perhaps I may send thee another letter to-morrow, +with the particulars of the interview between the dear creature and me; +after which my soul thirsteth. + + + +LETTER XIV + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +TUESDAY, AUG. 22. + + +I must write on, to divert myself: for I can get no rest; no refreshing +rest. I awaked just now in a cursed fright. How a man may be affected +by dreams! + +'Methought I had an interview with my beloved. I found her all goodness, +condescension, and forgiveness. She suffered herself to be overcome in +my favour by the joint intercessions of Lord M., Lady Sarah, Lady Betty, +and my two cousins Montague, who waited upon her in deep mourning; the +ladies in long trains sweeping after them; Lord M. in a long black mantle +trailing after him. They told her they came in these robs to express +their sorrow for my sins against her, and to implore her to forgive me. + +'I myself, I thought, was upon my knees, with a sword in my hand, +offering either to put it up in the scabbard, or to thrust it into my +heart, as she should command the one or the other. + +'At that moment her cousin Morden, I thought, all of a sudden, flashed in +through a window, with his drawn sword--Die, Lovelace! said he; this +instant die, and be d----d, if in earnest thou repairest not by marriage +my cousin's wrongs! + +'I was rising to resent this insult, I thought, when Lord M. ran between +us with his great black mantle, and threw it over my face: and instantly +my charmer, with that sweet voice which has so often played upon my +ravished ears, wrapped her arms around me, muffled as I was in my Lord's +mantle: O spare, spare my Lovelace! and spare, O Lovelace, my beloved +cousin Morden! Let me not have my distresses augmented by the fall of +either or both of those who are so dear to me! + +'At this, charmed with her sweet mediation, I thought I would have +clasped her in my arms: when immediately the most angelic form I had ever +beheld, all clad in transparent white, descended in a cloud, which, +opening, discovered a firmament above it, crowded with golden cherubs and +glittering seraphs, all addressing her with Welcome, welcome, welcome! +and, encircling my charmer, ascended with her to the region of seraphims; +and instantly, the opened cloud closing, I lost sight of her, and of the +bright form together, and found wrapt in my arms her azure robe (all +stuck thick with stars of embossed silver) which I had caught hold of in +hopes of detaining her; but was all that was left me of my beloved +Clarissa. And then, (horrid to relate!) the floor sinking under me, as +the firmament had opened for her, I dropt into a hole more frightful than +that of Elden; and, tumbling over and over down it, without view of a +bottom, I awaked in a panic; and was as effectually disordered for half +an hour, as if my dream had been a reality.' + +Wilt thou forgive my troubling thee with such visionary stuff? Thou wilt +see by it only that, sleeping or waking, my Clarissa is always present +with me. + +But here this moment is Will. come running hither to tell me that his +lady actually returned to her lodgings last night between eleven and +twelve; and is now there, though very ill. + +I hasten to her. But, that I may not add to her indisposition, by any +rough or boisterous behaviour, I will be as soft and gentle as the dove +herself in my addresses to her. + + That I do love her, I all ye host of Heaven, + Be witness.--That she is dear to me! + Dearer than day, to one whom sight must leave; + Dearer than life, to one who fears to die! + +The chair is come. I fly to my beloved. + + + +LETTER XV + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + + +Curse upon my stars!--Disappointed again! It was about eight when I +arrived at Smith's.--The woman was in the shop. + +So, old acquaintance, how do you now? I know my love is above.--Let her +be acquainted that I am here, waiting for admission to her presence, and +can take no denial. Tell her, that I will approach her with the most +respectful duty, and in whose company she pleases; and I will not touch +the hem of her garment, without her leave. + +Indeed, Sir, you are mistaken. The lady is not in this house, nor near +it. + +I'll see that.--Will.! beckoning him to me, and whispering, see if thou +canst any way find out (without losing sight of the door, lest she should +be below stairs) if she be in the neighbourhood, if not within. + +Will. bowed, and went off. Up went I, without further ceremony; attended +now only by the good woman. + +I went into each apartment, except that which was locked before, and was +now also locked: and I called to my Clarissa in the voice of love; but, +by the still silence, was convinced she was not there. Yet, on the +strength of my intelligence, I doubted not but she was in the house. + +I then went up two pairs of stairs, and looked round the first room: but +no Miss Harlowe. + +And who, pray, is in this room? stopping at the door of another. + +A widow gentlewoman, Sir.--Mrs. Lovick. + +O my dear Mrs. Lovick! said I.--I am intimately acquainted with Mrs. +Lovick's character, from my cousin John Belford. I must see Mrs. Lovick +by all means.--Good Mrs. Lovick, open the door. + +She did. + +Your servant, Madam. Be so good as to excuse me.--You have heard my +story. You are an admirer of the most excellent woman in the world. +Dear Mrs. Lovick, tell me what is become of her? + +The poor lady, Sir, went out yesterday, on purpose to avoid you. + +How so? she knew not that I would be here. + +She was afraid you would come, when she heard you were recovered from +your illness. Ah! Sir, what pity it is that so fine a gentleman should +make such ill returns for God's goodness to him! + +You are an excellent woman, Mrs. Lovick: I know that, by my cousin John +Belford's account of you: and Miss Clarissa Harlowe is an angel. + +Miss Harlowe is indeed an angel, replied she; and soon will be company +for angels. + +No jesting with such a woman as this, Jack. + +Tell me of a truth, good Mrs. Lovick, where I may see this dear lady. +Upon my soul, I will neither fright for offend her. I will only beg of +her to hear me speak for one half-quarter of an hour; and, if she will +have it so, I will never trouble her more. + +Sir, said the widow, it would be death for her to see you. She was at +home last night; I'll tell you truth: but fitter to be in bed all day. +She came home, she said, to die; and, if she could not avoid your visit, +she was unable to fly from you; and believed she should die in your +presence. + +And yet go out again this morning early? How can that be, widow? + +Why, Sir, she rested not two hours, for fear of you. Her fear gave her +strength, which she'll suffer for, when that fear is over. And finding +herself, the more she thought of your visit, the less able to stay to +receive it, she took chair, and is gone nobody knows whither. But, I +believe, she intended to be carried to the waterside, in order to take +boat; for she cannot bear a coach. It extremely incommoded her +yesterday. + +But before we talk any further, said I, if she be gone abroad, you can +have no objection to my looking into every apartment above and below; +because I am told she is actually in the house. + +Indeed, Sir, she is not. You may satisfy yourself, if you please: but +Mrs. Smith and I waited on her to her chair. We were forced to support +her, she was so weak. She said, Whither can I go, Mrs. Lovick? whither +can I go, Mrs. Smith?--Cruel, cruel man!--tell him I called him so, if he +come again!--God give him that peace which he denies me! + +Sweet creature! cried I; and looked down, and took out my handkerchief. + +The widow wept. I wish, said she, I had never known so excellent a lady, +and so great a sufferer! I love her as my own child! + +Mrs. Smith wept. + +I then gave over the hope of seeing her for this time, I was extremely +chagrined at my disappointment, and at the account they gave of her ill +health. + +Would to Heaven, said I, she would put it in my power to repair her +wrongs! I have been an ungrateful wretch to her. I need not tell you, +Mrs. Lovick, how much I have injured her, nor how much she suffers by her +relations' implacableness, Mrs. Smith, that cuts her to the heart. Her +family is the most implacable family on earth; and the dear creature, in +refusing to see me, and to be reconciled to me, shows her relation to +them a little too plainly. + +O Sir, said the widow, not one syllable of what you say belongs to this +lady. I never saw so sweet a temper! she is always accusing herself, and +excusing her relations. And, as to you, Sir, she forgives you: she +wishes you well; and happier than you will let her die in peace? 'tis all +she wishes for. You don't look like a hard-hearted gentleman!--How can +you thus hunt and persecute a poor lady, whom none of her relations will +look upon? It makes my heart bleed for her. + +And then she wept again. Mrs. Smith wept also. My seat grew uneasy to +me. I shifted to another several times; and what Mrs. Lovick farther +said, and showed me, made me still more uneasy. + +Bad as the poor lady was last night, said she, she transcribed into her +book a meditation on your persecuting her thus. I have a copy of it. If +I thought it would have any effect, I would read it to you. + +Let me read it myself, Mrs. Lovick. + +She gave it to me. It has an Harlowe-spirited title: and, from a +forgiving spirit, intolerable. I desired to take it with me. She +consented, on condition that I showed it to 'Squire Belford. So here, +Mr. 'Squire Belford, thou mayest read it, if thou wilt. + + +ON BEING HUNTED AFTER BY THE ENEMY OF MY SOUL. + +MONDAY, AUG. 21. + +Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man. + +Preserve me from the violent man. + +Who imagines mischief in his heart. + +He hath sharpened his tongue like a serpent. Adders' poison is under his +lips. + +Keep me, O Lord, from the hands of the wicked. Preserve me from the +violent man, who hath purposed to overthrow my goings. + +He hath hid a snare for me. He hath spread a net by the way-side. He +hath set gins for me in the way wherein I walked. + +Keep me from the snares which he hath laid for me, and the gins of this +worker of iniquity. + +The enemy hath persecuted my soul. He hath smitten my life down to the +ground. He hath made me dwell in darkness, as those that have been long +dead. + +Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me. My heart within me is +desolate. + +Hide not thy face from me in the day when I am in trouble. + +For my days are consumed like smoke: and my bones are burnt as the +hearth. + +My heart is smitten and withered like grass: so that I forget to eat my +bread. + +By reason of the voice of my groaning, my bones cleave to my skin. + +I am like a pelican of the wilderness. I am like an owl of the desert. + +I watch; and am as a sparrow alone upon the house-top. + +I have eaten ashes like bread; and mingled my drink with weeping: + +Because of thine indignation, and thy wrath: for thou hast lifted me up, +and cast me down. + +My days are like a shadow that declineth, and I am withered like grass. + +Grant not, O Lord, the desires of the wicked: further not his devices, +lest he exalt himself. + + +Why now, Mrs. Lovick, said I, when I had read this meditation, as she +called it, I think I am very severely treated by the lady, if she mean me +in all this. For how is it that I am the enemy of her soul, when I love +her both soul and body? + +She says, that I am a violent man, and a wicked man.--That I have been +so, I own: but I repent, and only wish to have it in my power to repair +the injuries I have done her. + +The gin, the snare, the net, mean matrimony, I suppose--But is it a crime +in me to wish to marry her? Would any other woman think it so? and +choose to become a pelican in the wilderness, or a lonely sparrow on the +house-top, rather than have a mate that would chirp about her all day and +all night? + +She says, she has eaten ashes like bread--A sad mistake to be sure!--And +mingled her drink with weeping--Sweet maudlin soul! should I say of any +body confessing this, but Miss Harlowe. + +She concludes with praying, that the desires of the wicked (meaning poor +me, I doubt) may not be granted; that my devices may not be furthered, +lest I exalt myself. I should undoubtedly exalt myself, and with reason, +could I have the honour and the blessing of such a wife. And if my +desires have so honourable an end, I know not why I should be called +wicked, and why I should not be allowed to hope, that my honest devices +may be furthered, that I MAY exalt myself. + +But here, Mrs. Lovick, let me ask, as something is undoubtedly meant by +the lonely sparrow on the house-top, is not the dear creature at this +very instant (tell me truly) concealed in Mrs. Smith's cockloft?--What +say you, Mrs. Lovick? What say you, Mrs. Smith, to this? + +They assured me to the contrary; and that she was actually abroad, and +they knew not where. + +Thou seest, Jack, that I would fain have diverted the chagrin given me +not only by the women's talk, but by this collection of Scripture-texts +drawn up in array against me. Several other whimsical and light things I +said [all I had for it!] with the same view. But the widow would not let +me come off so. She stuck to me; and gave me, as I told thee, a good +deal of uneasiness, by her sensible and serious expostulations. Mrs. +Smith put in now-and-then; and the two Jack-pudding fellows, John and +Joseph, not being present, I had no provocation to turn the conversation +into a farce; and, at last, they both joined warmly to endeavour to +prevail upon me to give up all thoughts of seeing the lady. But I could +not hear of that. On the contrary, I besought Mrs. Smith to let me have +one of her rooms but till I could see her; and were it but for one, two, +or three days, I would pay a year's rent for it; and quit it the moment +the interview was over. But they desired to be excused; and were sure +the lady would not come to the house till I was gone, were it for a +month. + +This pleased me; for I found they did not think her so very ill as they +would have me believe her to be; but I took no notice of the slip, +because I would not guard them against more of the like. + +In short, I told them, I must and would see her: but that it should be +with all the respect and veneration that heart could pay to excellence +like her's: and that I would go round to all the churches in London and +Westminster, where there were prayers or service, from sun-rise to +sun-set, and haunt their house like a ghost, till I had the opportunity +my soul panted after. + +This I bid them tell her. And thus ended our serious conversation. + +I took leave of them; and went down; and, stepping into my chair, caused +myself to be carried to Lincoln's-Inn; and walked in the gardens till the +chapel was opened; and then I went in, and said prayers, in hopes of +seeing the dear creature enter: but to no purpose; and yet I prayed most +devoutly that she might be conducted thither, either by my good angel, or +her own. And indeed I burn more than ever with impatience to be once +more permitted to kneel at the feet of this adorable woman. And had I +met her, or espied her in the chapel, it is my firm belief that I should +not have been able (though it had been in the midst of the sacred office, +and in the presence of thousands) to have forborne prostration to her, +and even clamorous supplication for her forgiveness: a christian act; the +exercise of it therefore worthy of the place. + +After service was over, I stept into my chair again, and once more was +carried to Smith's, in hopes I might have surprised her there: but no +such happiness for thy friend. I staid in the back-shop an hour and an +half, by my watch; and again underwent a good deal of preachment from the +women. John was mainly civil to me now; won over a little by my serious +talk, and the honour I professed for the lady. They all three wished +matters could be made up between us: but still insisted that she could +never get over her illness; and that her heart was broken. A cue, I +suppose, they had from you. + +While I was there a letter was brought by a particular hand. They seemed +very solicitous to hide it from me; which made me suspect it was for her. +I desired to be suffered to cast an eye upon the seal, and the +superscription; promising to give it back to them unopened. + +Looking upon it, I told them I knew the hand and seal. It was from her +sister.* And I hoped it would bring her news that she would be pleased +with. + + +* See Letter XXVI. of this volume. + + +They joined most heartily in the same hope: and, giving the letter to +them again, I civilly took leave, and went away. + +But I will be there again presently; for I fancy my courteous behaviour +to these women will, on their report of it, procure me the favour I so +earnestly covet. And so I will leave my letter unsealed, to tell thee +the event of my next visit at Smith's. + + +*** + + +Thy servant just calling, I sent thee this: and will soon follow it by +another. Mean time, I long to hear how poor Belton is: to whom my best +wishes. + + + +LETTER XVI + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +TUESDAY, AUG. 22. + + +I have been under such concern for the poor man, whose exit I almost +hourly expect, and at the shocking scenes his illness and his agonies +exhibit, that I have been only able to make memoranda of the melancholy +passages, from which to draw up a more perfect account, for the +instruction of us all, when the writing appetite shall return. + + +*** + + +It is returned! Indignation has revived it, on receipt of thy letters of +Sunday and yesterday; by which I have reason to reproach thee in very +serious terms, that thou hast not kept thy honour with me: and if thy +breach of it be attended with such effects as I fear it will be, I shall +let thee know more of my mind on this head. + +If thou wouldst be thought in earnest in thy wishes to move the poor lady +in thy favour, thy ludicrous behaviour at Smith's, when it comes to be +represented to her, will have a very consistent appearance; will it +not?--I will, indeed, confirm in her opinion, that the grave is more to +be wished-for, by one of her serious and pious turn, than a husband +incapable either of reflection or remorse; just recovered, as thou art, +from a dangerous, at least a sharp turn. + +I am extremely concerned for the poor unprotected lady. She was so +excessively low and weak on Saturday, that I could not be admitted to her +speech: and to be driven out of her lodgings, when it was fitter for her +to be in bed, is such a piece of cruelty, as he only could be guilty of +who could act as thou hast done by such an angel. + +Canst thou thyself say, on reflection, that it has not the look of a +wicked and hardened sportiveness, in thee, for the sake of a wanton +humour only, (since it can answer no end that thou proposest to thyself, +but the direct contrary,) to hunt from place to place a poor lady, who, +like a harmless deer, that has already a barbed shaft in her breast, +seeks only a refuge from thee in the shades of death. + +But I will leave this matter upon thy own conscience, to paint thee such +a scene from my memoranda, as thou perhaps wilt be moved by more +effectually than by any other: because it is such a one as thou thyself +must one day be a principal actor in, and, as I thought, hadst very +lately in apprehension: and is the last scene of one of thy more intimate +friends, who has been for the four past days labouring in the agonies of +death. For, Lovelace, let this truth, this undoubted truth, be engraved +on thy memory, in all thy gaieties, That the life we are so fond of is +hardly life; a mere breathing space only; and that, at the end of its +longest date, + + Thou must die, as well as Belton. + +Thou knowest, by Tourville, what we had done as to the poor man's worldly +affairs; and that we had got his unhappy sister to come and live with him +(little did we think him so very near to his end): and so I will proceed +to tell thee, that when I arrived at his house on Saturday night, I found +him excessively ill: but just raised, and in his elbow-chair, held up by +his nurse and Mowbray (the roughest and most untouched creature that ever +entered a sick man's chamber); while the maid-servants were trying to +make that bed easier for him which he was to return to; his mind ten +times uneasier than that could be, and the true cause that the down was +no softer to him. + +He had so much longed to see me, as I was told by his sister, (whom I +sent for down to inquire how he was,) that they all rejoiced when I +entered: Here, said Mowbray, here, Tommy, is honest Jack Belford! + +Where, where? said the poor man. + +I hear his voice, cried Mowbray: he is coming up stairs. + +In a transport of joy, he would have raised himself at my entrance, but +had like to have pitched out of the chair: and when recovered, called me +his best friend! his kindest friend! but burst into a flood of tears: O +Jack! O Belford! said he, see the way I am in! See how weak! So much, +and so soon reduced! Do you know me? Do you know your poor friend +Belton? + +You are not so much altered, my dear Belton, as you think you are. But I +see you are weak; very weak--and I am sorry for it. + +Weak, weak, indeed, my dearest Belford, said he, and weaker in mind, if +possible, than in body; and wept bitterly--or I should not thus unman +myself. I, who never feared any thing, to be forced to show myself such +a nursling!--I am quite ashamed of myself!--But don't despise me; dear +Belford, don't despise me, I beseech thee. + +I ever honoured a man that could weep for the distresses of others; and +ever shall, said I; and such a one cannot be insensible of his own. + +However, I could not help being visibly moved at the poor fellow's emotion. + +Now, said the brutal Mowbray, do I think thee insufferable, Jack. Our +poor friend is already a peg too low; and here thou art letting him down +lower and lower still. This soothing of him in his dejected moments, and +joining thy womanish tears with his, is not the way; I am sure it is not. +If our Lovelace were here, he'd tell thee so. + +Thou art an impenetrable creature, replied I; unfit to be present at a +scene, the terrors of which thou wilt not be able to feel till thou +feelest them in thyself; and then, if thou hadst time for feeling, my +life for thine, thou behavest as pitifully as those thou thinkest most +pitiful. + +Then turning to the poor sick man, Tears, my dear Belton, are no signs of +an unmanly, but, contrarily of a humane nature; they ease the +over-charged heart, which would burst but for that kindly and natural +relief. + + Give sorrow words (says Shakspeare) + --The grief that does not speak, + Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. + +I know, my dear Belton, thou usedst to take pleasure in repetitions from +the poets; but thou must be tasteless of their beauties now: yet be not +discountenanced by this uncouth and unreflecting Mowbray, for, as Juvenal +says, Tears are the prerogative of manhood. + +'Tis at least seasonably said, my dear Belford. It is kind to keep me in +countenance for this womanish weakness, as Mowbray has been upbraidingly +calling it, ever since he has been with me: and in so doing, (whatever I +might have thought in such high health as he enjoys,) has convinced me, +that bottle-friends feel nothing but what moves in that little circle. + +Well, well, proceed in your own way, Jack. I love my friend Belton as +well as you can do; yet for the blood of me, I cannot but think, that +soothing a man's weakness is increasing it. + +If it be a weakness, to be touched at great and concerning events, in +which our humanity is concerned, said I, thou mayest be right. + +I have seen many a man, said the rough creature, going up Holborn-hill, +that has behaved more like a man than either of you. + +Ay, but, Mowbray, replied the poor man, those wretches have not had their +minds enervated by such infirmities of body as I have long laboured +under. Thou art a shocking fellow, and ever wert.--But to be able to +remember nothing in these moments but what reproaches me, and to know +that I cannot hold it long, and what may then be my lot, if--but +interrupting himself, and turning to me, Give me thy pity, Jack; 'tis +balm to my wounded soul; and let Mowbray sit indifferent enough to the +pangs of a dying friend, to laugh at us both. + +The hardened fellow then retired, with the air of a Lovelace; only more +stupid; yawning and stretching, instead of humming a tune as thou didst +at Smith's. + +I assisted to get the poor man into bed. He was so weak and low, that he +could not bear the fatigue, and fainted away; and I verily thought was +quite gone. But recovering, and his doctor coming, and advising to keep +him quiet, I retired, and joined Mowbray in the garden; who took more +delight to talk of the living Lovelace and levities, than of the dying +Belton and his repentance. + +I just saw him again on Saturday night before I went to bed; which I did +early; for I was surfeited with Mowbray's frothy insensibility, and could +not bear him. + +It is such a horrid thing to think of, that a man who had lived in such +strict terms of--what shall I call it? with another; the proof does not +come out so, as to say, friendship; who had pretended so much love for +him; could not bear to be out of his company; would ride an hundred miles +on end to enjoy it; and would fight for him, be the cause right or wrong: +yet now, could be so little moved to see him in such misery of body and +mind, as to be able to rebuke him, and rather ridicule than pity him, +because he was more affected by what he felt, than he had seen a +malefactor, (hardened perhaps by liquor, and not softened by previous +sickness,) on his going to execution. + +This put me strongly in mind of what the divine Miss HARLOWE once said to +me, talking of friendship, and what my friendship to you required of me: +'Depend upon it, Mr. Belford,' said she, 'that one day you will be +convinced, that what you call friendship, is chaff and stubble; and that +nothing is worthy of that sacred name, + + 'That has not virtue for its base.' + + +Sunday morning, I was called up at six o'clock, at the poor man's earnest +request, and found him in a terrible agony. O Jack! Jack! said he, +looking wildly, as if he had seen a spectre--Come nearer me!--Dear, dear +Belford, save me! Then clasping my arm with both his hands, and rearing +up his head towards me, his eyes strangely rolling, Save me! dear +Belford, save me! repeated he. + +I put my other arm about him--Save you from what, my dear Belton! said I; +save you from what? Nothing shall hurt you. What must I save you from? + +Recovering from his terror, he sunk down again, O save me from myself! +said he; save me from my own reflections. O dear Jack! what a thing it +is to die; and not to have one comfortable reflection to revolve! What +would I give for one year of my past life?--only one year--and to have +the same sense of things that I now have? + +I tried to comfort him as well as I could: but free-livers to free-livers +are sorry death-bed comforters. And he broke in upon me: O my dear +Belford, said he, I am told, (and I have heard you ridiculed for it,) +that the excellent Miss Harlowe has wrought a conversion in you. May it +be so! You are a man of sense: O may it be so! Now is your time! Now, +that you are in full vigour of mind and body!--But your poor Belton, +alas! your poor Belton kept his vices, till they left him--and see the +miserable effects in debility of mind and despondency! Were Mowbray +here, and were he to laugh at me, I would own that this is the cause of +my despair--that God's justice cannot let his mercy operate for my +comfort: for, Oh! I have been very, very wicked; and have despised the +offers of his grace, till he has withdrawn it from me for ever. + +I used all the arguments I could think of to give him consolation: and +what I said had such an effect upon him, as to quiet his mind for the +greatest part of the day; and in a lucid hour his memory served him to +repeat these lines of Dryden, grasping my hand, and looking wistfully +upon me: + + O that I less could fear to lose this being, + Which, like a snow-ball, in my coward hand, + The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away! + +In the afternoon of Sunday, he was inquisitive after you, and your +present behaviour to Miss Harlowe. I told him how you had been, and how +light you made of it. Mowbray was pleased with your impenetrable +hardness of heart, and said, Bob. Lovelace was a good edge-tool, and +steel to the back: and such coarse but hearty praises he gave you, as an +abandoned man might give, and only an abandoned man could wish to +deserve. + +But hadst thou heard what the poor dying Belton said on this occasion, +perhaps it would have made thee serious an hour or two, at least. + +'When poor Lovelace is brought,' said he, 'to a sick-bed, as I am now, +and his mind forebodes that it is impossible he should recover, (which +his could not do in his late illness: if it had, he could not have +behaved so lightly in it;) when he revolves his past mis-spent life; his +actions of offence to helpless innocents; in Miss Harlowe's case +particularly; what then will he think of himself, or of his past actions? +his mind debilitated; his strength turned into weakness; unable to stir +or to move without help; not one ray of hope darting in upon his +benighted soul; his conscience standing in the place of a thousand +witnesses; his pains excruciating; weary of the poor remnant of life he +drags, yet dreading, that, in a few short hours, his bad will be changed +to worse, nay, to worst of all; and that worst of all, to last beyond +time and to all eternity; O Jack! what will he then think of the poor +transitory gratifications of sense, which now engage all his attention? +Tell him, dear Belford, tell him, how happy he is if he know his own +dying happiness; how happy, compared to his poor dying friend, that he +has recovered from his illness, and has still an opportunity lent him, +for which I would give a thousand worlds, had I them to give!' + +I approved exceedingly of his reflections, as suited to his present +circumstances; and inferred consolations to him from a mind so properly +touched. + +He proceeded in the like penitent strain. I have lived a very wicked +life; so have we all. We have never made a conscience of doing whatever +mischief either force or fraud enabled us to do. We have laid snares for +the innocent heart; and have not scrupled by the too-ready sword to +extend, as occasions offered, the wrongs we did to the persons whom we +had before injured in their dearest relations. But yet, I flatter +myself, sometimes, that I have less to answer for than either Lovelace or +Mowbray; for I, by taking to myself that accursed deceiver from whom thou +hast freed me, (and who, for years, unknown to me, was retaliating upon +my own head some of the evils I had brought upon others,) and retiring, +and living with her as a wife, was not party to half the mischiefs, that +I doubt they, and Tourville, and even you, Belford, committed. As to the +ungrateful Thomasine, I hope I have met with my punishment in her. But +notwithstanding this, dost thou not think, that such an action--and such +an action--and such an action; [and then he recapitulated several +enormities, in the perpetration of which (led on by false bravery, and +the heat of youth and wine) we have all been concerned;] dost thou not +think that these villanies, (let me call them now by their proper name,) +joined to the wilful and gloried-in neglect of every duty that our better +sense and education gave us to know were required of us as men and +christians, are not enough to weigh down my soul into despondency?-- +Indeed, indeed, they are! and now to hope for mercy; and to depend upon +the efficacy of that gracious attribute, when that no less shining one of +justice forbids me to hope; how can I!--I, who have despised all +warnings, and taken no advantage of the benefit I might have reaped from +the lingering consumptive illness I have laboured under, but left all to +the last stake; hoping for recovery against hope, and driving off +repentance, till that grace is denied me; for, oh! my dear Belford! I can +now neither repent, nor pray, as I ought; my heart is hardened, and I can +do nothing but despair!-- + +More he would have said; but, overwhelmed with grief and infirmity, he +bowed his head upon his pangful bosom, endeavouring to hide from the +sight of the hardened Mowbray, who just then entered the room, those +tears which he could not restrain. + +Prefaced by a phlegmatic hem; sad, very sad, truly! cried Mowbray; who +sat himself down on one side of the bed, as I sat on the other: his eyes +half closed, and his lips pouting out to his turned-up nose, his chin +curdled [to use one of thy descriptions]; leaving one at a loss to know +whether stupid drowsiness or intense contemplation had got most hold of +him. + +An excellent, however uneasy lesson, Mowbray! said I.--By my faith it is! +It may one day, who knows how soon? be our own case! + +I thought of thy yawning-fit, as described in thy letter of Aug. 13. For +up started Mowbray, writhing and shaking himself as in an ague-fit; his +hands stretched over his head--with thy hoy! hoy! hoy! yawning. And then +recovering himself, with another stretch and a shake, What's o'clock? +cried he; pulling out his watch--and stalking by long tip-toe strides +through the room, down stairs he went; and meeting the maid in the +passage, I heard him say--Betty, bring me a bumper of claret; thy poor +master, and this d----d Belford, are enough to throw a Hercules into the +vapours. + +Mowbray, after this, assuming himself in our friend's library, which is, +as thou knowest, chiefly classical and dramatical, found out a passage in +Lee's Oedipus, which he would needs have to be extremely apt; and in he +came full fraught with the notion of the courage it would give the dying +man, and read it to him. 'Tis poetical and pretty. This is it: + + When the sun sets, shadows that show'd at noon + But small, appear most long and terrible: + So when we think fate hovers o'er our heads, + Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds: + Owls, ravens, crickets, seem the watch of death; + Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons: + Echoes, the very leavings of a voice, + Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves. + Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus; + While we, fantastic dreamers, heave and puff, + And sweat with our imagination's weight. + +He expected praises for finding this out. But Belton turning his head +from him, Ah, Dick! (said he,) these are not the reflections of a dying +man!--What thou wilt one day feel, if it be what I now feel, will +convince thee that the evils before thee, and with thee, are more than +the effects of imagination. + +I was called twice on Sunday night to him; for the poor fellow, when his +reflections on his past life annoy him most, is afraid of being left with +the women; and his eyes, they tell me, hunt and roll about for me. +Where's Mr. Belford?--But I shall tire him out, cries he--yet beg of him +to step to me--yet don't--yet do; were once the doubting and changeful +orders he gave: and they called me accordingly. + +But, alas! What could Belford do for him? Belford, who had been but too +often the companion of his guilty hours; who wants mercy as much as he +does; and is unable to promise it to himself, though 'tis all he can bid +his poor friend rely upon! + +What miscreants are we! What figures shall we make in these terrible +hours! + +If Miss HARLOWE'S glorious example, on one hand, and the terrors of this +poor man's last scene on the other, affect me not, I must be abandoned to +perdition; as I fear thou wilt be, if thou benefittest not thyself from +both. + +Among the consolatory things I urged, when I was called up the last time +on Sunday night, I told him, that he must not absolutely give himself up +to despair: that many of the apprehensions he was under, were such as the +best men must have, on the dreadful uncertainty of what was to succeed to +this life. 'Tis well observed, said I, by a poetical divine, who was an +excellent christian,* That + + Death could not a more sad retinue find, + Sickness and pain before, and darkness all behind. + + +* The Rev Mr. Norris, of Bremerton. + + +About eight o'clock yesterday (Monday) morning, I found him a little +calmer. He asked me who was the author of the two lines I had repeated +to him; and made me speak them over again. A sad retinue, indeed! said +the poor man. And then expressing his hopelessness of life, and his +terrors at the thoughts of dying; and drawing from thence terrible +conclusions with regard to his future state; There is, said I, such a +natural aversion to death in human nature, that you are not to imagine, +that you, my dear Belton, are singular in the fear of it, and in the +apprehensions that fill the thoughtful mind upon its approach; but you +ought, as much as possible, to separate those natural fears which all men +must have on so solemn an occasion, from those particular ones which your +justly-apprehended unfitness fills you with. Mr. Pomfret, in his +Prospect of Death, which I dipped into last night from a collection in +your closet, which I put into my pocket, says, [and I turned to the +place] + + Merely to die, no man of reason fears; + For certainly we must, + As we are born, return to dust; + 'Tis the last point of many ling-ring years; + But whither then we go, + Whither, we fain would know; + But human understanding cannot show. + This makes US tremble---- + +Mr. Pomfret, therefore, proceeded I, had such apprehensions of this dark +state as you have: and the excellent divine I hinted at last night, who +had very little else but human frailties to reproach himself with, and +whose miscellanies fell into my hands among my uncle's books in my +attendance upon him in his last hours, says, + + It must be done, my soul: but 'tis a strange, + A dismal, and mysterious change, + When thou shalt leave this tenement of clay, + And to an unknown--somewhere--wing away; + When time shall be eternity, and thou + Shalt be--thou know'st not what--and live-- + thou know'st not how! + Amazing state! no wonder that we dread + To think of death, or view the dead; + Thou'rt all wrapt up in clouds, as if to thee + Our very knowledge had antipathy. + +Then follows, what I repeated, + + Death could not a more sad retinue find, + Sickness and pain before, and darkness all behind. + +Alas! my dear Belford [inferred the unhappy deep-thinker] what poor +creatures does this convince me we mortals are at best!--But what then +must be the case of such a profligate as I, who by a past wicked life +have added greater force to these natural terrors? If death be so +repugnant a thing to human nature, that good men will be startled at it, +what must it be to one who has lived a life of sense and appetite; nor +ever reflected upon the end which I now am within view of? + +What could I say to an inference so fairly drawn? Mercy, mercy, +unbounded mercy, was still my plea, though his repeated opposition of +justice to it, in a manner silenced that plea: and what would I have +given to have had rise in my mind, one good, eminently good action to +have remembered him of, in order to combat his fears with it? + +I believe, Lovelace, I shall tire thee, and that more with the subject +of my letter, than even with the length of it. But really, I think thy +spirits are so offensively up since thy recovery, that I ought, as the +melancholy subjects offer, to endeavour to reduce thee to the standard +of humanity, by expatiating upon them. And then thou canst not but be +curious to know every thing that concerns the poor man, for whom thou +hast always expressed a great regard. I will therefore proceed as I have +begun. If thou likest not to read it now, lay it by, if thou wilt, till +the like circumstances befall thee, till like reflections from those +circumstances seize thee; and then take it up, and compare the two cases +together. + + +*** + + +At his earnest request, I sat up with him last night; and, poor man! it +is impossible to tell thee, how easy and safe he thought himself in my +company, for the first part of the night: A drowning man will catch at a +straw, the proverb well says: and a straw was I, with respect to any real +help I could give him. He often awaked in terrors; and once calling out +for me, Dear Belford, said he, Where are you!--Oh! There you are!--Give +me your friendly hand!--Then grasping it, and putting his clammy, +half-cold lips to it--How kind! I fear every thing when you are absent. +But the presence of a friend, a sympathising friend--Oh! how comfortable! + +But, about four in the morning, he frighted me much: he waked with three +terrible groans; and endeavoured to speak, but could not presently--and +when he did,--Jack, Jack, Jack, five or six times repeated he as quick as +thought, now, now, now, save me, save me, save me--I am going--going +indeed! + +I threw my arms about him, and raised him upon his pillow, as he was +sinking (as if to hide himself) in the bed-clothes--And staring wildly, +Where am I? said he, a little recovering. Did you not see him? turning +his head this way and that; horror in his countenance; Did you not see +him? + +See whom, see what, my dear Belton! + +O lay me upon the bed again, cried he!--Let me not die upon the floor!-- +Lay me down gently; and stand by me!--Leave me not!--All, all will soon +be over! + +You are already, my dear Belton, upon the bed. You have not been upon +the floor. This is a strong delirium; you are faint for want of +refreshment [for he had refused several times to take any thing]: let me +persuade you to take some of this cordial julap. I will leave you, if +you will not oblige me. + +He then readily took it; but said he could have sworn that Tom. Metcalfe +had been in the room, and had drawn him out of bed by the throat, +upbraiding him with the injuries he had first done his sister, and then +him, in the duel to which he owed that fever which cost him his life. + +Thou knowest the story, Lovelace, too well, to need my repeating it: but, +mercy on us, if in these terrible moments all the evils we do rise to our +frighted imaginations!--If so, what shocking scenes have I, but still +what more shocking ones hast thou, to go through, if, as the noble poet +says, + + If any sense at that sad time remains! + +The doctor ordered him an opiate this morning early, which operated so +well, that he dosed and slept several hours more quietly than he had done +for the two past days and nights, though he had sleeping-draughts given +him before. But it is more and more evident every hour that nature is +almost worn out in him. + + +*** + + +Mowbray, quite tired with this house of mourning, intends to set out in +the morning to find you. He was not a little rejoiced to hear you were +in town; I believe to have a pretence to leave us. + + +*** + + +He has just taken leave of his poor friend, intending to go away early: +an everlasting leave, I may venture to say; for I think he will hardly +live till to-morrow night. + +I believe the poor man would not have been sorry had he left him when I +arrived; for 'tis a shocking creature, and enjoys too strong health to +know how to pity the sick. Then (to borrow an observation from thee) he +has, by nature, strong bodily organs, which those of his soul are not +likely to whet out; and he, as well as the wicked friend he is going to, +may last a great while from the strength of their constitutions, though +so greatly different in their talents, if neither the sword nor the +halter interpose. + +I must repeat, That I cannot but be very uneasy for the poor lady whom +you so cruelly persecute; and that I do not think that you have kept your +honour with me. I was apprehensive, indeed, that you would attempt to +see her, as soon as you got well enough to come up; and I told her as +much, making use of it as an argument to prepare her for your visit, and +to induce her to stand it. But she could not, it is plain, bear the +shock of it: and indeed she told me that she would not see you, though +but for one half-hour, for the world. + +Could she have prevailed upon herself, I know that the sight of her would +have been as affecting to you, as your visit could have been to her; when +you had seen to what a lovely skeleton (for she is really lovely still, +nor can she, with such a form and features, be otherwise) you have, in a +few weeks, reduced one of the most charming women in the world; and that +in the full bloom of her youth and beauty. + +Mowbray undertakes to carry this, that he may be more welcome to you, he +says. Were it to be sent unsealed, the characters we write in would be +Hebrew to the dunce. I desire you to return it; and I'll give you a copy +of it upon demand; for I intend to keep it by me, as a guard against the +infection of your company, which might otherwise, perhaps, some time +hence, be apt to weaken the impressions I always desire to have of the +awful scene before me. God convert us both! + + + +LETTER XVII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY MORN. 11 O'CLOCK. + + +I believe no man has two such servants as I have. Because I treat them +with kindness, and do not lord it over my inferiors, and d--n and curse +them by looks and words like Mowbray; or beat their teeth out like +Lovelace; but cry, Pr'ythee, Harry, do this, and, Pr'ythee, Jonathan, do +that; the fellows pursue their own devices, and regard nothing I say, but +what falls in with these. + +Here, this vile Harry, who might have brought your letter of yesterday in +good time, came not in with it till past eleven at night (drunk, I +suppose); and concluding that I was in bed, as he pretends (because he +was told I sat up the preceding night) brought it not to me; and having +overslept himself, just as I had sealed up my letter, in comes the +villain with the forgotten one, shaking his ears, and looking as if he +himself did not believe the excuses he was going to make. I questioned +him about it, and heard his pitiful pleas; and though I never think it +becomes a gentleman to treat people insolently who by their stations are +humbled beneath his feet, yet could I not forbear to Lovelace and Mowbray +him most cordially. + +And this detaining Mowbray (who was ready to set out to you before) while +I write a few lines upon it, the fierce fellow, who is impatient to +exchange the company of a dying Belton for that of a too-lively Lovelace, +affixed a supplement of curses upon the staring fellow, that was larger +than my book--nor did I offer to take off the bear from such a mongrel, +since, on this occasion, he deserved not of me the protection which every +master owes to a good servant. + +He has not done cursing him yet; for stalking about the court-yard with +his boots on, (the poor fellow dressing his horse, and unable to get from +him,) he is at him without mercy; and I will heighten his impatience, +(since being just under the window where I am writing, he will not let me +attend to my pen,) by telling you how he fills my ears as well as the +fellow's, with his--Hay, Sir! And G--d d--n ye, Sir! And were ye my +servant, ye dog ye! And must I stay here till the mid-day sun scorches +me to a parchment, for such a mangy dog's drunken neglect?--Ye lie, +Sirrah!--Ye lie, I tell you--[I hear the fellow's voice in an humble +excusatory tone, though not articulately] Ye lie, ye dog!--I'd a good +mind to thrust my whip down your drunken throat: d--n me, if I would not +flay the skin from the back of such a rascal, if thou wert mine, and have +dog's-skin gloves made of it, for thy brother scoundrels to wear in +remembrance of thy abuses of such a master. + +The poor horse suffers for this, I doubt not; for, What now! and, Stand +still, and be d--d to ye, cries the fellow, with a kick, I suppose, which +he better deserves himself; for these varlets, where they can, are +Mowbrays and Lovelaces to man or beast; and not daring to answer him, is +flaying the poor horse. + +I hear the fellow is just escaped, the horse, (better curried than +ordinary, I suppose, in half the usual time,) by his clanking shoes, and +Mowbray's silence, letting me know, that I may now write on: and so, I +will tell thee that, in the first place, (little as I, as well as you, +regard dreams,) I would have thee lay thine to heart; for I could give +thee such an interpretation of it, as would shock thee, perhaps; and if +thou askest me for it, I will. + +Mowbray calls to me from the court-yard, that 'tis a cursed hot day, and +he shall be fried by riding in the noon of it: and that poor Belton longs +to see me. So I will only add my earnest desire, that you will give over +all thoughts of seeing the lady, if, when this comes to your hand, you +have not seen her: and, that it would be kind, if you'd come, and, for +the last time you will ever see your poor friend, share my concern for +him; and, in him, see what, in a little time, will be your fate and mine, +and that of Mowbray, Tourville, and the rest of us--For what are ten, +fifteen, twenty, or thirty years, to look back to; in the longest of +which periods forward we shall all perhaps be mingled with the dust from +which we sprung? + + + +LETTER XVIII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY MORN. AUG. 23. + + +All alive, dear Jack, and in ecstacy!--Likely to be once more a happy +man! For I have received a letter from my beloved Miss HARLOWE; in +consequence, I suppose, of that which I mentioned in my last to be left +for her from her sister. And I am setting out for Berks directly, to +show the contents to my Lord M. and to receive the congratulations of all +my kindred upon it. + +I went, last night, as I intended, to Smith's: but the dear creature was +not returned at near ten o'clock. And, lighting upon Tourville, I took +him home with me, and made him sing me out of my megrims. I went to bed +tolerably easy at two; had bright and pleasant dreams; (not such of a +frightful one as that I gave thee an account of;) and at eight this +morning, as I was dressing, to be in readiness against the return of my +fellow, whom I had sent to inquire after the lady, I had the following +letter brought to me by a chairman: + + +TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +TUESDAY NIGHT, 11 O'CLOCK (AUG. 22.) + + +SIR, + +I have good news to tell you. I am setting out with all diligence for my +father's house, I am bid to hope that he will receive his poor penitent +with a goodness peculiar to himself; for I am overjoyed with the +assurance of a thorough reconciliation, through the interposition of a +dear, blessed friend, whom I always loved and honoured. I am so taken up +with my preparation for this joyful and long-wished-for journey, that I +cannot spare one moment for any other business, having several matters of +the last importance to settle first. So, pray, Sir, don't disturb or +interrupt me--I beseech you don't. You may possibly in time see me at my +father's; at least if it be not your own fault. + +I will write a letter, which shall be sent you when I am got thither and +received: till when, I am, &c. + +CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + +*** + + +I dispatched instantly a letter to the dear creature, assuring her, with +the most thankful joy, 'That I would directly set out for Berks, and wait +the issue of the happy reconciliation, and the charming hopes she had +filled me with. I poured out upon her a thousand blessings. I declared +that it should be the study of my whole life to merit such transcendent +goodness: and that there was nothing which her father or friends should +require at my hands, that I would not for her sake comply with, in order +to promote and complete so desirable a reconciliation.' + +I hurried it away without taking a copy of it; and I have ordered the +chariot-and-six to be got ready; and hey for M. Hall! Let me but know +how Belton does. I hope a letter from thee is on the road. And if the +poor fellow can spare thee, make haste, I command thee, to attend this +truly divine lady. Thou mayest not else see her of months perhaps; at +least, not while she is Miss HARLOWE. And oblige me, if possible, with +one letter before she sets out, confirming to me and accounting for this +generous change. + +But what accounting for it is necessary? The dear creature cannot +receive consolation herself but she must communicate it to others. How +noble! She would not see me in her adversity; but no sooner does the sun +of prosperity begin to shine upon her than she forgives me. + +I know to whose mediation all this is owing. It is to Colonel Morden's. +She always, as she says, loved and honoured him! And he loved her above +all his relations. + +I shall now be convinced that there is something in dreams. The opening +cloud is the reconciliation in view. The bright form, lifting up my +charmer through it to a firmament stuck round with golden cherubims and +seraphims, indicates the charming little boys and girls, that will be the +fruits of this happy reconciliation. The welcomes, thrice repeated, are +those of her family, now no more to be deemed implacable. Yet are they +family, too, that my soul cannot mingle with. + +But then what is my tumbling over and over through the floor into a +frightful hole, descending as she ascends? Ho! only this! it alludes to +my disrelish to matrimony: Which is a bottomless pit, a gulph, and I know +not what. And I suppose, had I not awoke in such a plaguy fright, I had +been soused into some river at the bottom of the hole, and then been +carried (mundified or purified from my past iniquities,) by the same +bright form (waiting for me upon the mossy banks,) to my beloved girl; +and we should have gone on cherubiming of it and caroling to the end of +the chapter. + +But what are the black sweeping mantles and robes of Lord M. thrown over +my face? And what are those of the ladies? O Jack! I have these too: +They indicate nothing in the world but that my Lord will be so good as to +die, and leave me all he has. So, rest to thy good-natured soul, honest +Lord M. + +Lady Sarah Sadleir and Lady Betty Lawrance, will also die, and leave me +swinging legacies. + +Miss Charlotte and her sister--what will become of the?--Oh! they will be +in mourning, of course, for their uncle and aunts--that's right! + +As to Morden's flashing through the window, and crying, Die, Lovelace, +and be d----d, if thou wilt not repair my cousin's wrong! That is only, +that he would have sent me a challenge, had I not been disposed to do the +lady justice. + +All I dislike is this part of the dream: for, even in a dream, I would +not be thought to be threatened into any measure, though I liked it ever +so well. + +And so much for my prophetic dream. + +Dear charming creature! What a meeting will there be between her and her +father and mother and uncles! What transports, what pleasure, will this +happy, long-wished-for reconciliation give her dutiful heart! And indeed +now methinks I am glad she is so dutiful to them; for her duty to her +parents is a conviction to me that she will be as dutiful to her husband: +since duty upon principle is an uniform thing. + +Why pr'ythee, now, Jack, I have not been so much to blame as thou +thinkest: for had it not been for me, who have led her into so much +distress, she could neither have received nor given the joy that will now +overwhelm them all. So here rises great and durable good out of +temporary evil. + +I know they loved her (the pride and glory of their family,) too well to +hold out long! + +I wish I could have seen Arabella's letter. She has always been so much +eclipsed by her sister, that I dare say she has signified this +reconciliation to her with intermingled phlegm and wormwood; and her +invitation must certainly runs all in the rock-water style. + +I shall long to see the promised letter too when she is got to her +father's, which I hope will give an account of the reception she will +meet with. + +There is a solemnity, however, I think, in the style of her letter, which +pleases and affects me at the same time. But as it is evident she loves +me still, and hopes soon to see me at her father's, she could not help +being a little solemn, and half-ashamed, [dear blushing pretty rogue!] to +own her love, after my usage of her. + +And then her subscription: Till when, I am, CLARISSA HARLOWE: as much as +to say, after that, I shall be, if not to your own fault, +CLARISSA LOVELACE! + +O my best love! My ever-generous and adorable creature! How much does +this thy forgiving goodness exalt us both!--Me, for the occasion given +thee! Thee, for turning it so gloriously to thy advantage, and to the +honour of both! + +And if, my beloved creature, you will but connive at the imperfections of +your adorer, and not play the wife with me: if, while the charms of +novelty have their force with me, I should happen to be drawn aside by +the love of intrigue, and of plots that my soul delights to form and +pursue; and if thou wilt not be open-eyed to the follies of my youth, [a +transitory state;] every excursion shall serve but the more to endear +thee to me, till in time, and in a very little time too, I shall get +above sense; and then, charmed by thy soul-attracting converse; and +brought to despise my former courses; what I now, at distance, consider +as a painful duty, will be my joyful choice, and all my delight will +centre in thee! + + +*** + + +Mowbray is just arrived with thy letters. I therefore close my agreeable +subject, to attend to one which I doubt will be very shocking. + +I have engaged the rough varlet to bear me company in the morning to +Berks; where I shall file off the rust he has contracted in his +attendance upon the poor fellow. + +He tells me that, between the dying Belton and the preaching Belford, he +shan't be his own man these three days: and says that thou addest to the +unhappy fellow's weakness, instead of giving him courage to help him to +bear his destiny. + +I am sorry he takes the unavoidable lot so heavily. But he has been long +ill; and sickness enervates the mind as well as the body; as he himself +very significantly observed to thee. + + + +LETTER XIX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +WEDN. EVENING. + + +I have been reading thy shocking letter--Poor Belton! what a multitude of +lively hours have we passed together! He was a fearless, cheerful +fellow: who'd have thought all that should end in such dejected +whimpering and terror? + +But why didst thou not comfort the poor man about the rencounter between +him and that poltroon Metcalfe? He acted in that affair like a man of +true honour, and as I should have acted in the same circumstances. Tell +him I say so; and that what happened he could neither help nor foresee. + +Some people are as sensible of a scratch from a pin's point, as others +from a push of a sword: and who can say any thing for the sensibility of +such fellows? Metcalfe would resent for his sister, when his sister +resented not for herself. Had she demanded her brother's protection and +resentment, that would have been another man's matte, to speak in Lord +M.'s phrase: but she herself thought her brother a coxcomb to busy +himself undesired in her affairs, and wished for nothing but to be +provided for decently and privately in her lying-in; and was willing to +take the chance of Maintenon-ing his conscience in her favour,* and +getting him to marry when the little stranger came; for she knew what +an easy, good-natured fellow he was. And indeed if she had prevailed +upon him, it might have been happy for both; as then he would not have +fallen in with his cursed Thomasine. But truly this officious brother of +her's must interpose. This made a trifling affair important: And what +was the issue? Metcalfe challenged; Belton met him; disarmed him; gave +him his life: but the fellow, more sensible in his skin than in his head, +having received a scratch, was frighted: it gave him first a puke, then +a fever, and then he died, that was all. And how could Belton help that? +--But sickness, a long tedious sickness, will make a bugbear of any thing +to a languishing heart, I see that. And so far was Mowbray à-propos in +the verses from Nat. Lee, which thou hast described. + + +* Madam Maintenon was reported to have prevailed upon Lewis XIV. of +France, in his old age, (sunk, as he was, by ill success in the field,) +to marry her, by way of compounding with his conscience for the freedoms +of his past life, to which she attributed his public losses. + + +Merely to die, no man of reason fears, is a mistake, say thou, or say +thy author, what ye will. And thy solemn parading about the natural +repugnance between life and death, is a proof that it is. + +Let me tell thee, Jack, that so much am I pleased with this world, in +the main; though, in some points too, the world (to make a person of it,) +has been a rascal to me; so delighted am I with the joys of youth; with +my worldly prospects as to fortune; and now, newly, with the charming +hopes given me by my dear, thrice dear, and for ever dear CLARISSA; that +were I even sure that nothing bad would come hereafter, I should be very +loth (very much afraid, if thou wilt have it so,) to lay down my life +and them together; and yet, upon a call of honour, no man fears death +less than myself. + +But I have not either inclination or leisure to weigh thy leaden +arguments, except in the pig, or, as thou wouldst say, in the lump. + +If I return thy letters, let me have them again some time hence, that is +to say, when I am married, or when poor Belton is half forgotten; or when +time has enrolled the honest fellow among those whom we have so long +lost, that we may remember them with more pleasure than pain; and then I +may give them a serious perusal, and enter with thee as deeply as thou +wilt into the subject. + +When I am married, said I?--What a sound has that! + +I must wait with patience for a sight of this charming creature, till she +is at her father's. And yet, as the but blossoming beauty, as thou +tellest me, is reduced to a shadow, I should have been exceedingly +delighted to see her now, and every day till the happy one; that I might +have the pleasure of observing how sweetly, hour by hour, she will rise +to her pristine glories, by means of that state of ease and contentment, +which will take place of the stormy past, upon her reconciliation with +her friends, and our happy nuptials. + + + +LETTER XX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. + + +Well, but now my heart is a little at ease, I will condescend to take +brief notice of some other passages in thy letters. + +I find I am to thank thee, that the dear creature has avoided my visit. +Things are now in so good a train that I must forgive thee; else thou +shouldst have heard more of this new instance of disloyalty to thy +general. + +Thou art continually giving thyself high praise, by way of opposition, as +I may say, to others; gently and artfully blaming thyself for qualities +thou wouldst at the same time have to be thought, and which generally are +thought, praise-worthy. + +Thus, in the airs thou assumest about thy servants, thou wouldst pass for +a mighty humane mortal; and that at the expense of Mowbray and me, whom +thou representest as kings and emperors to our menials. Yet art thou +always unhappy in thy attempts of this kind, and never canst make us, who +know thee, believe that to be a virtue in thee, which is but the effect +of constitutional phlegm and absurdity. + +Knowest thou not, that some men have a native dignity in their manner, +that makes them more regarded by a look, than either thou canst be in thy +low style, or Mowbray in his high? + +I am fit to be a prince, I can tell thee, for I reward well, and I punish +seasonably and properly; and I am generally as well served by any man. + +The art of governing these underbred varlets lies more in the dignity of +looks than in words; and thou art a sorry fellow, to think humanity +consists in acting by thy servants, as men must act who are not able to +pay them their wages; or had made them masters of secrets, which, if +divulged, would lay them at the mercy of such wretches. + +Now to me, who never did any thing I was ashamed to own, and who have +more ingenuousness than ever man had; who can call a villany by its own +right name, though practised by myself, and (by my own readiness to +reproach myself) anticipate all reproach from others; who am not such a +hypocrite, as to wish the world to think me other or better than I am-- +it is my part, to look a servant into his duty, if I can; nor will I keep +one who knows not how to take me by a nod, or a wink; and who, when I +smile, shall not be all transport; when I frown, all terror. If, indeed, +I am out of the way a little, I always take care to reward the varlets +for patiently bearing my displeasure. But this I hardly ever am but when +a fellow is egregiously stupid in any plain point of duty, or will be +wiser than his master; and when he shall tell me, that he thought acting +contrary to my orders was the way to serve me best. + +One time or other I will enter the lists with thee upon thy conduct and +mine to servants; and I will convince thee, that what thou wouldst have +pass for humanity, if it be indiscriminately practised to all tempers, +will perpetually subject thee to the evils thou complainest of; and +justly too; and that he only is fit to be a master of servants, who can +command their attention as much by a nod, as if he were to pr'ythee a +fellow to do his duty, on one hand, or to talk of flaying, and +horse-whipping, like Mowbray, on the other: for the servant who being +used to expect thy creeping style, will always be master of his master, +and he who deserves to be treated as the other, is not fit to be any +man's servant; nor would I keep such a fellow to rub my horse's heels. + +I shall be the readier to enter the lists with thee upon this argument, +because I have presumption enough to think that we have not in any of our +dramatic poets, that I can at present call to mind, one character of a +servant of either sex, that is justly hit off. So absurdly wise some, +and so sottishly foolish others; and both sometime in the same person. +Foils drawn from lees or dregs of the people to set off the characters of +their masters and mistresses; nay, sometimes, which is still more absurd, +introduced with more wit than the poet has to bestow upon their +principals.--Mere flints and steels to strike fire with--or, to vary the +metaphor, to serve for whetstones to wit, which, otherwise, could not be +made apparent; or, for engines to be made use of like the machinery of +the antient poets, (or the still more unnatural soliloquy,) to help on a +sorry plot, or to bring about a necessary eclaircissement, to save the +poet the trouble of thinking deeply for a better way to wind up his +bottoms. + +Of this I am persuaded, (whatever my practice be to my own servants,) +that thou wilt be benefited by my theory, when we come to controvert the +point. For then I shall convince thee, that the dramatic as well as +natural characteristics of a good servant ought to be fidelity, common +sense, cheerful obedience, and silent respect; that wit in his station, +except to his companions, would be sauciness; that he should never +presume to give his advice; that if he venture to expostulate upon any +unreasonable command, or such a one a appeared to him to be so, he should +do it with humility and respect, and take a proper season for it. But +such lessons do most of the dramatic performances I have seen give, where +servants are introduced as characters essential to the play, or to act +very significant or long parts in it, (which, of itself, I think a +fault;) such lessons, I say, do they give to the footmen's gallery, that +I have not wondered we have so few modest or good men-servants among +those who often attend their masters or mistresses to plays. Then how +miserably evident must that poet's conscious want of genius be, who can +stoop to raise or give force to a clap by the indiscriminate roar of the +party-coloured gallery! + +But this subject I will suspend to a better opportunity; that is to say, +to the happy one, when my nuptials with my Clarissa will oblige me to +increase the number of my servants, and of consequence to enter more +nicely into their qualifications. + + +*** + + +Although I have the highest opinion that man can have of the generosity +of my dear Miss Harlowe, yet I cannot for the heart of me account for +this agreeable change in her temper but one way. Faith and troth, +Belford, I verily believe, laying all circumstances together, that the +dear creature unexpectedly finds herself in the way I have so ardently +wished her to be in; and that this makes her, at last, incline to favour +me, that she may set the better face upon her gestation, when at her +father's. + +If this be the case, all her falling away, and her fainting fits, are +charmingly accounted for. Nor is it surprising, that such a sweet novice +in these matters should not, for some time, have known to what to +attribute her frequent indispositions. If this should be the case, how I +shall laugh at thee! and (when I am sure of her) at the dear novice +herself, that all her grievous distresses shall end in a man-child; which +I shall love better than all the cherubims and seraphims that may come +after; though there were to be as many of them as I beheld in my dream; +in which a vast expanse of firmament was stuck as full of them as it +could hold! + +I shall be afraid to open thy next, lest it bring me the account of poor +Belton's death. Yet, as there are no hopes of his recovery--but what +should I say, unless the poor man were better fitted--but thy heavy +sermon shall not affect me too much neither. + +I enclose thy papers; and do thou transcribe them for me, or return them; +for there are some things in them, which, at a proper season, a mortal +man should not avoid attending to; and thou seemest to have entered +deeply into the shocking subject.--But here I will end, lest I grow too +serious. + + +*** + + +Thy servant called here about an hour ago, to know if I had any commands; +I therefore hope that thou wilt have this early in the morning. And if +thou canst let me hear from thee, do. I'll stretch an hour or two in +expectation of it. Yet I must be at Lord M.'s to-morrow night, if +possible, though ever so late. + +Thy fellow tells me the poor man is much as he was when Mowbray left him. + +Wouldst thou think that this varlet Mowbray is sorry that I am so near +being happy with Miss Harlowe? And, 'egad, Jack, I know not what to say +to it, now the fruit seems to be within my reach--but let what will come, +I'll stand to't: for I find I can't live without her. + + + +LETTER XXI + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY, THREE O'CLOCK. + + +I will proceed where I left off in my last. + +As soon as I had seen Mowbray mounted, I went to attend upon poor Belton; +whom I found in dreadful agonies, in which he awoke, after he generally +does. + +The doctor came in presently after, and I was concerned at the scene that +passed between them. + +It opened with the dying man's asking him, with melancholy earnestness, +if nothing--if nothing at all could be done for him? + +The doctor shook his head, and told him, he doubted not. + +I cannot die, said the poor man--I cannot think of dying. I am very +desirous of living a little longer, if I could but be free from these +horrible pains in my stomach and head. Can you give me nothing to make +me pass one week--but one week, in tolerable ease, that I may die like a +man, if I must die! + +But, Doctor, I am yet a young man; in the prime of my years--youth is a +good subject for a physician to work upon--Can you do nothing--nothing at +all for me, Doctor? + +Alas! Sir, replied his physician, you have been long in a bad way. I +fear, I fear, nothing in physic can help you! + +He was then out of all patience: What, then, is your art, Sir?--I have +been a passive machine for a whole twelvemonth, to be wrought upon at the +pleasure of you people of the faculty.--I verily believe, had I not taken +such doses of nasty stuff, I had been now a well man--But who the plague +would regard physicians, whose art is to cheat us with hopes while they +help to destroy us?--And who, not one of you, know any thing but by +guess? + +Sir, continued he, fiercely, (and with more strength of voice and +coherence, than he had shown for several hours before,) if you give me +over, I give you over.--The only honest and certain part of the art of +healing is surgery. A good surgeon is worth a thousand of you. I have +been in surgeons' hands often, and have always found reason to depend +upon their skill; but your art, Sir, what is it?--but to daub, daub, +daub; load, load, load; plaster, plaster, plaster; till ye utterly +destroy the appetite first, and the constitution afterwards, which you +are called in to help. I had a companion once, my dear Belford, thou +knewest honest Blomer, as pretty a physician he would have made as any +in England, had he kept himself from excess in wine and women; and he +always used to say, there was nothing at all but the pick-pocket parade +in the physician's art; and that the best guesser was the best physician. +And I used to believe him too--and yet, fond of life, and fearful of +death, what do we do, when we are taken ill, but call ye in? And what +do ye do, when called in, but nurse our distempers, till from pigmies you +make giants of them? and then ye come creeping with solemn faces, when ye +are ashamed to prescribe, or when the stomach won't bear its natural +food, by reason of your poisonous potions,--Alas, I am afraid physic can +do no more for him!--Nor need it, when it has brought to the brink of the +grave the poor wretch who placed all his reliance in your cursed slops, +and the flattering hopes you gave him. + +The doctor was out of countenance; but said, if we could make mortal men +immortal, and would not, all this might be just. + +I blamed the poor man; yet excused him to the physician. To die, dear +Doctor, when, like my poor friend, we are so desirous of life, is a +melancholy thing. We are apt to hope too much, not considering that the +seeds of death are sown in us when we begin to live, and grow up, till, +like rampant weeds, they choke the tender flower of life; which declines +in us as those weeds flourish. We ought, therefore, to begin early to +study what our constitutions will bear, in order to root out, by +temperance, the weeds which the soil is most apt to produce; or, at +least, to keep them down as they rise; and not, when the flower or plant +is withered at the root, and the weed in its full vigour, expect, that +the medical art will restore the one, or destroy the other; when that +other, as I hinted, has been rooting itself in the habit from the time of +our birth. + +This speech, Bob., thou wilt call a prettiness; but the allegory is just; +and thou hast not quite cured me of the metaphorical. + +Very true, said the doctor; you have brought a good metaphor to +illustrate the thing. I am sorry I can do nothing for the gentleman; and +can only recommend patience, and a better frame of mind. + +Well, Sir, said the poor angry man, vexed at the doctor, but more at +death, you will perhaps recommend the next succession to the physician, +when he can do no more; and, I suppose, will send your brother to pray by +me for those virtues which you wish me. + +It seems the physician's brother is a clergyman in the neighbourhood. + +I was greatly concerned to see the gentleman thus treated; and so I told +poor Belton when he was gone; but he continued impatient, and would not +be denied, he said, the liberty of talking to a man, who had taken so +many guineas of him for doing nothing, or worse than nothing, and never +declined one, though he know all the time he could do him no good. + +It seems the gentleman, though rich, is noted for being greedy after +fees! and poor Belton went on raving at the extravagant fees of English +physicians, compared with those of the most eminent foreign ones. But, +poor man! he, like the Turks, who judge of a general by his success, (out +of patience to think he must die,) would have worshipped the doctor, and +not grudged thee times the sum, could he have given him hopes of +recovery. + +But, nevertheless, I must needs say, that gentlemen of the faculty should +be more moderate in their fees, or take more pains to deserve them; for, +generally, they only come into a room, feel the sick man's pulse, ask the +nurse a few questions, inspect the patient's tongue, and, perhaps, his +water; then sit down, look plaguy wise, and write. The golden fee finds +the ready hand, and they hurry away, as if the sick man's room were +infectious. So to the next they troll, and to the next, if men of great +practice; valuing themselves upon the number of visits they make in a +morning, and the little time they make them in. They go to dinner and +unload their pockets; and sally out again to refill them. And thus, in a +little time, they raise vast estates; for, as Ratcliffe said, when first +told of a great loss which befell him, It was only going up and down one +hundred pairs of stairs to fetch it up. + +Mrs. Sambre (Belton's sister) had several times proposed to him a +minister to pray by him, but the poor man could not, he said, bear the +thoughts of one; for that he should certainly die in an hour or two +after; and he was willing to hope still, against all probability, that he +might recover; and was often asking his sister if she had not seen people +as bad as he was, who, almost to a miracle, when every body gave them +over, had got up again? + +She, shaking her head, told him she had; but, once saying, that their +disorders were of an acute kind, and such as had a crisis in them, he +called her Small-hopes, and Job's comforter; and bid her say nothing, if +she could not say more to the purpose, and what was fitter for a sick man +to hear. And yet, poor fellow, he has no hopes himself, as is plain by +his desponding terrors; one of which he fell into, and a very dreadful +one, soon after the doctor went. + + +*** + + +WEDNESDAY, NINE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. + +The poor man had been in convulsions, terrible convulsions! for an hour +past. O Lord! Lovelace, death is a shocking thing! by my faith it is!-- +I wish thou wert present on this occasion. It is not merely the concern +a man has for his friend; but, as death is the common lot, we see, in his +agonies, how it will be one day with ourselves. I am all over as if cold +water were poured down my back, or as if I had a strong ague-fit upon me. +I was obliged to come away. And I write, hardly knowing what.--I wish +thou wert here. + + +*** + + +Though I left him, because I could stay no longer, I can't be easy by +myself, but must go to him again. + + +ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + +Poor Belton!--Drawing on apace! Yet was he sensible when I went in--too +sensible, poor man! He has something upon his mind to reveal, he tells +me, that is the worst action of his life; worse than ever you or I knew +of him, he says. It must then be very bad! + +He ordered every body out; but was seized with another convulsion-fit, +before he could reveal it; and in it he lies struggling between life and +death--but I'll go in again. + + +ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. + +All now must soon be over with him: Poor, poor fellow! He has given me +some hints of what he wanted to say; but all incoherent, interrupted by +dying hiccoughs and convulsions. + +Bad enough it must be, Heaven knows, by what I can gather!--Alas! +Lovelace, I fear, I fear, he came too soon into his uncle's estate. + +If a man were to live always, he might have some temptation to do base +things, in order to procure to himself, as it would then be, everlasting +ease, plenty, or affluence; but, for the sake of ten, twenty, thirty +years of poor life to be a villain--Can that be worth while? with a +conscience stinging him all the time too! And when he comes to wind up +all, such agonizing reflections upon his past guilt! All then appearing +as nothing! What he most valued, most disgustful! and not one thing to +think of, as the poor fellow says twenty and twenty times over, but what +is attended with anguish and reproach!-- + +To hear the poor man wish he had never been born!--To hear him pray to be +nothing after death! Good God! how shocking! + +By his incoherent hints, I am afraid 'tis very bad with him. No pardon, +no mercy, he repeats, can lie for him! + +I hope I shall make a proper use of this lesson. Laugh at me if thou +wilt; but never, never more, will I take the liberties I have taken; but +whenever I am tempted, will think of Belton's dying agonies, and what my +own may be. + + +*** + + +THURSDAY, THREE IN THE MORNING. + +He is now at the last gasp--rattles in the throat--has a new convulsion +every minute almost! What horror is he in! His eyes look like +breath-stained glass! They roll ghastly no more; are quite set; his face +distorted, and drawn out, by his sinking jaws, and erected staring +eyebrows, with his lengthened furrowed forehead, to double its usual +length, as it seems. It is not, it cannot be the face of Belton, thy +Belton, and my Belton, whom we have beheld with so much delight over the +social bottle, comparing notes, that one day may be brought against us, +and make us groan, as they very lately did him--that is to say, while he +had strength to groan; for now his voice is not to be heard; all inward, +lost; not so much as speaking by his eyes; yet, strange! how can it be? +the bed rocking under him like a cradle. + +FOUR O'CLOCK. + + Alas: he's gone! that groan, that dreadful groan, + Was the last farewell of the parting mind! + The struggling soul has bid a long adieu + To its late mansion--Fled! Ah! whither fled? + +Now is all indeed over!--Poor, poor Belton! by this time thou knowest if +thy crimes were above the size of God's mercies! Now are every one's +cares and attendance at an end! now do we, thy friends,--poor Belton!-- +know the worst of thee, as to this life! Thou art released from +insufferable tortures both of body and mind! may those tortures, and thy +repentance, expiate for thy offences, and mayest thou be happy to all +eternity! + +We are told, that God desires not the death, the spiritual death of a +sinner: And 'tis certain, that thou didst deeply repent! I hope, +therefore, as thou wert not cut off in the midst of thy sins by the sword +of injured friendship, which more than once thou hadst braved, [the +dreadfullest of all deaths, next to suicide, because it gives no +opportunity for repentance] that this is a merciful earnest that thy +penitence is accepted; and that thy long illness, and dreadful agonies in +the last stages of it, were thy only punishment. + +I wish indeed, I heartily wish, we could have seen one ray of comfort +darting in upon his benighted mind, before he departed. But all, alas! +to the very last gasp, was horror and confusion. And my only fear arises +from this, that, till within the four last days of his life, he could not +be brought to think he should die, though in a visible decline for +months; and, in that presumption, was too little inclined to set about a +serious preparation for a journey, which he hoped he should not be +obliged to take; and when he began to apprehend that he could not put it +off, his impatience, and terror, and apprehension, showed too little of +that reliance and resignation, which afford the most comfortable +reflections to the friends of the dying, as well as to the dying +themselves. + +But we must leave poor Belton to that mercy, of which we have all so much +need; and, for my own part (do you, Lovelace, and the rest of the +fraternity, as ye will) I am resolved, I will endeavour to begin to +repent of my follies while my health is sound, my intellects untouched, +and while it is in my power to make some atonement, as near to +restitution or reparation, as is possible, to those I have wronged or +misled. And do ye outwardly, and from a point of false bravery, make as +light as ye will of my resolution, as ye are none of ye of the class of +abandoned and stupid sots who endeavour to disbelieve the future +existence of which ye are afraid, I am sure you will justify me in your +hearts, if not by your practices; and one day you will wish you had +joined with me in the same resolution, and will confess there is more +good sense in it, than now perhaps you will own. + + +SEVEN O'CLOCK, THURSDAY MORNING. + +You are very earnest, by your last letter, (just given me) to hear again +from me, before you set out for Berks. I will therefore close with a few +words upon the only subject in your letter which I can at present touch +upon: and this is the letter of which you give me a copy from the lady. + +Want of rest, and the sad scene I have before my eyes, have rendered me +altogether incapable of accounting for the contents of it in any shape. +You are in ecstacies upon it. You have reason to be so, if it be as you +think. Nor would I rob you of your joy: but I must say I am amazed at +it. + +Surely, Lovelace, this surprising letter cannot be a forgery of thy own, +in order to carry on some view, and to impose upon me. Yet, by the style +of it, it cannot though thou art a perfect Proteus too. + +I will not, however, add another word, after I have desired the return of +this, and have told you that I am + +Your true friend, and well-wisher, +J. BELFORD. + + + +LETTER XXII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +AUG. 24, THURSDAY MORNING. + + +I received thy letter in such good time, by thy fellow's dispatch, that +it gives me an opportunity of throwing in a few paragraphs upon it. I +read a passage or two of it to Mowbray; and we both agree that thou art +an absolute master of the lamentable. + +Poor Belton! what terrible conflicts were thy last conflicts!--I hope, +however, that he is happy: and I have the more hope, because the hardness +of his death is likely to be such a warning to thee. If it have the +effect thou declarest it shall have, what a world of mischief will it +prevent! how much good will it do! how many poor wretches will rejoice at +the occasion, (if they know it,) however melancholy in itself, which +shall bring them in a compensation for injuries they had been forced to +sit down contented with! But, Jack, though thy uncle's death has made +thee a rich fellow, art thou sure that the making good of such a vow will +not totally bankrupt thee? + +Thou sayest I may laugh at thee, if I will. Not I, Jack: I do not take +it to be a laughing subject: and I am heartily concerned at the loss we +all have in poor Belton: and when I get a little settled, and have +leisure to contemplate the vanity of all sublunary things (a subject that +will now-and-then, in my gayest hours, obtrude itself upon me) it is very +likely that I may talk seriously with thee upon these topics; and, if +thou hast not got too much the start of me in the repentance thou art +entering upon, will go hand-in-hand with thee in it. If thou hast, thou +wilt let me just keep thee in my eye; for it is an up-hill work; and I +shall see thee, at setting out, at a great distance; but as thou art a +much heavier and clumsier fellow than myself, I hope that without much +puffing and sweating, only keeping on a good round dog-trot, I shall be +able to overtake thee. + +Mean time, take back thy letter, as thou desirest. I would not have it +in my pocket upon any account at present; nor read it once more. + +I am going down without seeing my beloved. I was a hasty fool to write +her a letter, promising that I would not come near her till I saw her at +her father's. For as she is now actually at Smith's, and I so near her, +one short visit could have done no harm. + +I sent Will., two hours ago, with my grateful compliments, and to know +how she does. + +How must I adore this charming creature! for I am ready to think my +servant a happier fellow than myself, for having been within a pair of +stairs and an apartment of her. + +Mowbray and I will drop a tear a-piece, as we ride along, to the memory +of poor Belton:--as we ride along, said I: for we shall have so much joy +when we arrive at Lord M.'s, and when I communicate to him and my cousins +the dear creature's letter, that we shall forget every thing grievous: +since now their family-hopes in my reformation (the point which lies so +near their hearts) will all revive; it being an article of their faith, +that if I marry, repentance and mortification will follow of course. + +Neither Mowbray nor I shall accept of thy verbal invitation to the +funeral. We like not these dismal formalities. And as to the respect +that is supposed to be shown to the memory of a deceased friend in such +an attendance, why should we do any thing to reflect upon those who have +made it a fashion to leave this parade to people whom they hire for that +purpose? + +Adieu, and be cheerful. Thou canst now do no more for poor Belton, wert +thou to howl for him to the end of thy life. + + + +LETTER XXIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +SAT. AUG. 26. + + +On Thursday afternoon I assisted at the opening of poor Belton's will, in +which he has left me his sole executor, and bequeathed me a legacy of an +hundred guineas; which I shall present to his unfortunate sister, to whom +he has not been so kind as I think he ought to have been. He has also +left twenty pounds a-piece to Mowbray, Tourville, thyself, and me, for a +ring to be worn in remembrance of him. + +After I had given some particular orders about the preparations to be +made for his funeral, I went to town; but having made it late before I +got in on Thursday night, and being fatigued for want of rest several +nights before, and now in my spirits, [I could not help it, Lovelace!] I +contented myself to send my compliments to the innocent sufferer, to +inquire after her health. + +My servant saw Mrs. Smith, who told him, she was very glad I was come to +town; for that lady was worse than she had yet been. + +It is impossible to account for the contents of her letter to you; or to +reconcile those contents to the facts I have to communicate. + +I was at Smith's by seven yesterday (Friday) morning; and found that the +lady was just gone in a chair to St. Dunstan's to prayers: she was too +ill to get out by six to Covent-garden church; and was forced to be +supported to her chair by Mrs. Lovick. They would have persuaded her +against going; but she said she knew not but it would be her last +opportunity. Mrs. Lovick, dreading that she would be taken worse at +church, walked thither before her. + +Mrs. Smith told me she was so ill on Wednesday night, that she had +desired to receive the sacrament; and accordingly it was administered to +her, by the parson of the parish: whom she besought to take all +opportunities of assisting her in her solemn preparation. + +This the gentleman promised: and called in the morning to inquire after +her health; and was admitted at the first word. He staid with her about +half an hour; and when he came down, with his face turned aside, and a +faltering accent, 'Mrs. Smith,' said he, 'you have an angel in your +house.--I will attend her again in the evening, as she desires, and as +often as I think it will be agreeable to her.' + +Her increased weakness she attributed to the fatigues she had undergone +by your means; and to a letter she had received from her sister, which +she answered the same day. + +Mrs. Smith told me that two different persons had called there, one on +Thursday morning, one in the evening, to inquire after her state of +health; and seemed as if commissioned from her relations for that +purpose; but asked not to see her, only were very inquisitive after her +visiters: (particularly, it seems, after me: What could they mean by +that?) after her way of life, and expenses; and one of them inquired +after her manner of supporting them; to the latter of which, Mrs. Smith +said, she had answered, as the truth was, that she had been obliged to +sell some of her clothes, and was actually about parting with more; at +which the inquirist (a grave old farmer-looking man) held up his hands, +and said, Good God!--this will be sad, sad news to somebody! I believe +I must not mention it. But Mrs. Smith says she desired he would, let him +come from whom he would. He shook his head, and said if she died, the +flower of the world would be gone, and the family she belonged to would +be no more than a common family.* I was pleased with the man's +expression. + + +* This man came from her cousin Morden; as will be seen hereafter, +Letters LII. and LVI. of this volume. + + +You may be curious to know how she passed her time, when she was obliged +to leave her lodging to avoid you. + +Mrs. Smith tells me 'that she was very ill when she went out on Monday +morning, and sighed as if her heart would break as she came down stairs, +and as she went through the shop into the coach, her nurse with her, as +you had informed me before: that she ordered the coachman (whom she hired +for the day) to drive any where, so it was into the air: he accordingly +drove her to Hampstead, and thence to Highgate. There at the +Bowling-green House, she alighted, extremely ill, and having breakfasted, +ordered the coachman to drive very slowly any where. He crept along to +Muswell-hill, and put up at a public house there; where she employed +herself two hours in writing, though exceedingly weak and low, till the +dinner she had ordered was brought in: she endeavoured to eat, but could +not: her appetite was gone, quite gone, she said. And then she wrote on +for three hours more: after which, being heavy, she dozed a little in an +elbow-chair. When she awoke, she ordered the coachman to drive her very +slowly to town, to the house of a friend of Mrs. Lovick; whom, as agreed +upon, she met there: but, being extremely ill, she would venture home at +a late hour, although she heard from the widow that you had been there; +and had reason to be shocked at your behaviour. She said she found there +was no avoiding you: she was apprehensive she should not live many hours, +and it was not impossible but the shock the sight of you must give her +would determine her fate in your presence. + +'She accordingly went home. She heard the relation of your astonishing +vagaries, with hands and eyes often lifted up; and with these words +intermingled, Shocking creature! incorrigible wretch! And will nothing +make him serious? And not being able to bear the thoughts of an +interview with a man so hardened, she took to her usual chair early in +the morning, and was carried to the Temple-stairs, where she had ordered +her nurse before her, to get a pair of oars in readiness (for her +fatigues the day before made her unable to bear a coach;) and then she +was rowed to Chelsea, where she breakfasted; and after rowing about, put +in at the Swan at Brentford-ait, where she dined; and would have written, +but had no conveniency either of tolerable pens, or ink, or private room; +and then proceeding to Richmond, they rowed her back to Mort-lake; where +she put in, and drank tea at a house her waterman recommended to her. +She wrote there for an hour; and returned to the Temple; and, when she +landed, made one of the watermen get her a chair, and so was carried to +the widow's friend, as the night before; where she again met the widow, +who informed her that you had been after her twice that day. + +'Mrs. Lovick gave her there her sister's letter;* and she was so much +affected with the contents of it, that she was twice very nigh fainting +away; and wept bitterly, as Mrs. Lovick told Mrs. Smith; dropping some +warmer expressions than ever they had heard proceed from her lips, in +relation to her friends; calling them cruel, and complaining of ill +offices done her, and of vile reports raised against her. + + +* See Letter XXVI. of this volume. + + +'While she was thus disturbed, Mrs. Smith came to her, and told her, that +you had been there a third time, and was just gone, (at half an hour +after nine,) having left word how civil and respectful you would be; but +that you was determined to see her at all events. + +'She said it was hard she could not be permitted to die in peace: that +her lot was a severe one: that she began to be afraid she should not +forbear repining, and to think her punishment greater than her fault: +but, recalling herself immediately, she comforted herself, that her life +would be short, and with the assurance of a better.' + +By what I have mentioned, you will conclude with me, that the letter +brought her by Mrs. Lovick (the superscription of which you saw to be +written in her sister's hand) could not be the letter on the contents of +which she grounded that she wrote to you, on her return home. And yet +neither Mrs. Lovick, nor Mrs. Smith, nor the servant of the latter, know +of any other brought her. But as the women assured me, that she actually +did write to you, I was eased of a suspicion which I had begun to +entertain, that you (for some purpose I could not guess at) had forged +the letter from her of which you sent me a copy. + +On Wednesday morning, when she received your letter, in answer to her's, +she said, Necessity may well be called the mother of invention--but +calamity is the test of integrity.--I hope I have not taken an +inexcusable step--And there she stopt a minute or two; and then said, I +shall now, perhaps, be allowed to die in peace. + +I staid till she came in. She was glad to see me; but, being very weak, +said, she must sit down before she could go up stairs: and so went into +the back-shop; leaning upon Mrs. Lovick: and when she had sat down, 'I am +glad to see you, Mr. Belford, said she; I must say so--let mis-reporters +say what they will.' + +I wondered at this expression;* but would not interrupt her. + + +* Explained in Letter XXVIII. of this volume. + + +O Sir, said she, I have been grievously harassed. Your friend, who would +not let me live with reputation, will not permit me to die in peace. You +see how I am. Is there not a great alteration in me within this week! +but 'tis all for the better. Yet were I to wish for life, I must say +that your friend, your barbarous friend, has hurt me greatly. + +She was so weak, so short breathed, and her words and actions so very +moving, that I was forced to walk from her; the two women and her nurse +turning away their faces also, weeping. + +I have had, Madam, said I, since I saw you, a most shocking scene before +my eyes for days together. My poor friend Belton is no more. He quitted +the world yesterday morning in such dreadful agonies, that the impression +they have left upon me have so weakened my mind-- + +I was loth to have her think that my grief was owing to the weak state I +saw her in, for fear of dispiriting her. + +That is only, Mr. Belford, interrupted she, in order to strengthen it, if +a proper use be made of the impression. But I should be glad, since you +are so humanely affected with the solemn circumstance, that you could +have written an account of it to your gay friend, in the style and manner +you are master of. Who knows, as it would have come from an associate, +and of an associate, it might have affected him? + +That I had done, I told her, in such a manner as had, I believed, some +effect upon you. + +His behaviour in this honest family so lately, said she, and his cruel +pursuit of me, give me but little hope that any thing serious or solemn +will affect him. + +We had some talk about Belton's dying behaviour, and I gave her several +particulars of the poor man's impatience and despair; to which she was +very attentive; and made fine observations upon the subject of +procrastination. + +A letter and packet were brought her by a man on horseback from Miss +Howe, while we were talking. She retired up stairs to read it; and while +I was in discourse with Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick, the doctor and +apothecary both came in together. They confirmed to me my fears, as to +the dangerous way she is in. They had both been apprized of the new +instances of implacableness in her friends, and of your persecutions: and +the doctor said he would not for the world be either the unforgiving +father of that lady, or the man who had brought her to this distress. +Her heart's broken: she'll die, said he: there is no saving her. But +how, were I either the one or the other of the people I have named, I +should support myself afterwards, I cannot tell. + +When she was told we were all three together, she desired us to walk up. +She arose to receive us, and after answering two or three general +questions relating to her health, she addressed herself to us, to the +following effect: + +As I may not, said she, see you three gentlemen together again, let me +take this opportunity to acknowledge my obligations to you all. I am +inexpressibly obliged to you, Sir, and to you, Sir, [courtesying to the +doctor and to Mr. Goddard] for your more than friendly, your paternal +care and concern for me. Humanity in your profession, I dare say, is far +from being a rare qualification, because you are gentlemen by your +profession: but so much kindness, so much humanity, did never desolate +creature meet with, as I have met with from you both. But indeed I have +always observed, that where a person relies upon Providence, it never +fails to raise up a new friend for every old one that falls off. + +This gentleman, [bowing to me,] who, some people think, should have been +one of the last I should have thought of for my executor--is, +nevertheless, (such is the strange turn that things have taken!) the only +one I can choose; and therefore I have chosen him for that charitable +office, and he has been so good as to accept of it: for, rich as I may +boast myself to be, I am rather so in right than in fact, at this +present. I repeat, therefore, my humble thanks to you all three, and beg +of God to return to you and yours [looking to each] an hundred-fold, the +kindness and favour you have shown me; and that it may be in the power of +you and of yours, to the end of time, to confer benefits, rather than to +be obliged to receive them. This is a godlike power, gentlemen: I once +rejoiced in it some little degree; and much more in the prospect I had of +its being enlarged to me; though I have had the mortification to +experience the reverse, and to be obliged almost to every body I have +seen or met with: but all, originally, through my own fault; so I ought +to bear the punishment without repining: and I hope I do. Forgive these +impertinencies: a grateful heart, that wants the power it wishes for, to +express itself suitably to its own impulses, will be at a loss what +properly to dictate to the tongue; and yet, unable to restrain its +overflowings, will force the tongue to say weak and silly things, rather +than appear ungratefully silent. Once more, then, I thank ye all three +for your kindness to me: and God Almighty make you that amends which at +present I cannot! + +She retired from us to her closet with her eyes full; and left us looking +upon one another. + +We had hardly recovered ourselves, when she, quite easy, cheerful, and +smiling, returned to us: Doctor, said she (seeing we had been moved) you +will excuse me for the concern I give you; and so will you, Mr. Goddard, +and you, Mr. Belford; for 'tis a concern that only generous natures can +show: and to such natures sweet is the pain, if I may say so, that +attends such a concern. But as I have some few preparations still to +make, and would not (though in ease of Mr. Belford's future cares, which +is, and ought to be, part of my study) undertake more than it is likely I +shall have time lent me to perform, I would beg of you to give me your +opinions [you see my way of living, and you may be assured that I will do +nothing wilfully to shorten my life] how long it may possibly be, before +I may hope to be released from all my troubles. + +They both hesitated, and looked upon each other. Don't be afraid to +answer me, said she, each sweet hand pressing upon the arm of each +gentleman, with that mingled freedom and reserve, which virgin modesty, +mixed with conscious dignity, can only express, and with a look serenely +earnest, tell me how long you think I may hold it! and believe me, +gentlemen, the shorter you tell me my time is likely to be, the more +comfort you will give me. + +With what pleasing woe, said the Doctor, do you fill the minds of those +who have the happiness to converse with you, and see the happy frame you +are in! what you have undergone within a few days past has much hurt you: +and should you have fresh troubles of those kinds, I could not be +answerable for your holding it--And there he paused. + +How long, Doctor?--I believe I shall have a little more ruffling--I am +afraid I shall--but there can happen only one thing that I shall not be +tolerably easy under--How long then, Sir?-- + +He was silent. + +A fortnight, Sir? + +He was still silent. + +Ten days?--A week?--How long, Sir? with smiling earnestness. + +If I must speak, Madam, if you have not better treatment than you have +lately met with, I am afraid--There again he stopt. + +Afraid of what, Doctor? don't be afraid--How long, Sir? + +That a fortnight or three weeks may deprive the world of the finest +flower in it. + +A fortnight or three weeks yet, Doctor?--But God's will be done! I +shall, however, by this means, have full time, if I have but strength +and intellect, to do all that is now upon my mind to do. And so, Sirs, +I can but once more thank you [turning to each of us] for all your +goodness to me; and, having letters to write, will take up no more of +your time--Only, Doctor, be pleased to order me some more of those drops: +they cheer me a little, when I am low; and putting a fee into his +unwilling hand--You know the terms, Sir!--Then, turning to Mr. Goddard, +you'll be so good, Sir, as to look in upon me to-night or to-morrow, as +you have opportunity: and you, Mr. Belford, I know, will be desirous to +set out to prepare for the last office for your late friend: so I wish +you a good journey, and hope to see you when that is performed. + +She then retired with a cheerful and serene air. The two gentlemen +went away together. I went down to the women, and, inquiring, found, +that Mrs. Lovick was this day to bring her twenty guineas more, for some +other of her apparel. + +The widow told me that she had taken the liberty to expostulate with her +upon the occasion she had for raising this money, to such great +disadvantage; and it produced the following short and affecting +conversation between them. + +None of my friends will wear any thing of mine, said she. I shall leave +a great many good things behind me.--And as to what I want the money for +--don't be surprised:--But suppose I want it to purchase a house? + +You are all mystery, Madam. I don't comprehend you. + +Why, then, Mrs. Lovick, I will explain myself.--I have a man, not a +woman, for my executor: and think you that I will leave to his care any +thing that concerns my own person?--Now, Mrs. Lovick, smiling, do you +comprehend me? + +Mrs. Lovick wept. + +O fie! proceeded the Lady, drying up her tears with her own handkerchief, +and giving her a kiss--Why this kind weakness for one with whom you have +been so little while acquainted? Dear, good Mrs. Lovick, don't be +concerned for me on a prospect with which I have occasion to be pleased; +but go to-morrow to your friends, and bring me the money they have agreed +to give you. + +Thus, Lovelace, it is plain she means to bespeak her last house! Here's +presence of mind; here's tranquillity of heart, on the most affecting +occasion--This is magnanimity indeed!--Couldst thou, or could I, with all +our boisterous bravery, and offensive false courage, act thus?--Poor +Belton! how unlike was thy behaviour! + +Mrs. Lovick tells me that the lady spoke of a letter she had received +from her favourite divine Dr. Lewen, in the time of my absence; and of an +letter she had returned to it. But Mrs. Lovick knows not the contents of +either. + +When thou receivest the letter I am now writing, thou wilt see what will +soon be the end of all thy injuries to this divine lady. I say when thou +receivest it; for I will delay it for some little time, lest thou +shouldest take it into thy head (under pretence of resenting the +disappointment her letter must give thee) to molest her again. + +This letter having detained me by its length, I shall not now set out for +Epsom till to-morrow. + +I should have mentioned that the lady explained to me what the one thing +was that she was afraid might happen to ruffle her. It was the +apprehension of what may result from a visit which Col. Morden, as she is +informed, designs to make you. + + + +LETTER XXIV + +THE REV. DR. LEWEN, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE +FRIDAY, AUG. 18. + + +Presuming, dearest and ever-respectable young lady, upon your former +favour, and upon your opinion of my judgment and sincerity, I cannot help +addressing you by a few lines on your present unhappy situation. + +I will not look back upon the measures into which you have either been +led or driven. But will only say as to those, that I think you are the +least to blame of any young lady that was ever reduced from happy to +unhappy circumstances; and I have not been wanting to say as much, where +I hoped my freedom would have been better received than I have had the +mortification to find it to be. + +What I principally write for now is, to put you upon doing a piece of +justice to yourself, and to your sex, in the prosecuting for his life (I +am assured his life is in your power) the most profligate and abandoned +of men, as he must be, who could act so basely, as I understand Mr. +Lovelace has acted by you. + +I am very ill; and am now forced to write upon my pillow; my thoughts +confused; and incapable of method: I shall not therefore aim at method: +but to give you in general my opinion--and that is, that your religion, +your duty to your family, the duty you owe to your honour, and even +charity to your sex, oblige you to give public evidence against this very +wicked man. + +And let me add another consideration: The prevention, by this means, of +the mischiefs that may otherwise happen between your brother and Mr. +Lovelace, or between the latter and your cousin Morden, who is now, I +hear, arrived, and resolves to have justice done you. + +A consideration which ought to affect your conscience, [forgive me, +dearest young lady, I think I am now in the way of my duty;] and to be +of more concern to you, than that hard pressure upon your modesty which +I know the appearance against him in an open court must be of to such a +lady as you; and which, I conceive, will be your great difficulty. But I +know, Madam, that you have dignity enough to become the blushes of the +most naked truth, when necessity, justice, and honour, exact it from you. +Rakes and ravishers would meet with encouragement indeed, and most from +those who had the greatest abhorrence of their actions, if violated +modesty were never to complain of the injury it received from the +villanous attempters of it. + +In a word, the reparation of your family dishonour now rests in your own +bosom: and which only one of these two alternatives can repair; to wit, +either to marry the offender, or to prosecute him at law. Bitter +expedients for a soul so delicate as your's! + +He, and all his friends, I understand, solicit you to the first: and it +is certainly, now, all the amends within his power to make. But I am +assured that you have rejected their solicitations, and his, with the +indignation and contempt that his foul actions have deserved: but yet, +that you refuse not to extend to him the christian forgiveness he has so +little reason to expect, provided he will not disturb you farther. + +But, Madam, the prosecution I advise, will not let your present and +future exemption from fresh disturbance from so vile a molester depend +upon his courtesy: I should think so noble and so rightly-guided a spirit +as your's would not permit that it should, if you could help it. + +And can indignities of any kind be properly pardoned till we have it in +our power to punish them? To pretend to pardon, while we are labouring +under the pain or dishonour of them, will be thought by some to be but +the vaunted mercy of a pusillanimous heart, trembling to resent them. +The remedy I propose is a severe one: But what pain can be more severe +than the injury? Or how will injuries be believed to grieve us, that are +never honourably complained of? + +I am sure Miss Clarissa Harlowe, however injured and oppressed, remains +unshaken in her sentiments of honour and virtue: and although she would +sooner die than deserve that her modesty should be drawn into question; +yet she will think no truth immodest that is to be uttered in the +vindicated cause of innocence and chastity. Little, very little +difference is there, my dear young lady, between a suppressed evidence, +and a false one. + +It is a terrible circumstance, I once more own, for a young lady of your +delicacy to be under the obligation of telling so shocking a story in +public court: but it is still a worse imputation, that she should pass +over so mortal an injury unresented. + +Conscience, honour, justice, are on your side: and modesty would, by +some, be thought but an empty name, should you refuse to obey their +dictates. + +I have been consulted, I own, on this subject. I have given it as my +opinion, that you ought to prosecute the abandoned man--but without my +reasons. These I reserved, with a resolution to lay them before you +unknown to any body, that the result, if what I wish, may be your own. + +I will only add that the misfortunes which have befallen you, had they +been the lot of a child of my own, could not have affected me more than +your's have done. My own child I love: but I both love and honour you: +since to love you, is to love virtue, good sense, prudence, and every +thing that is good and noble in woman. + +Wounded as I think all these are by the injuries you have received, you +will believe that the knowledge of your distresses must have afflicted, +beyond what I am able to express, + +Your sincere admirer, and humble servant, +ARTHUR LEWEN. + + +I just now understand that your sister will, by proper authority, propose + this prosecution to you. I humbly presume that the reason why you + resolved not upon this step from the first, was, that you did not + know that it would have the countenance and support of your + relations. + + + +LETTER XXV + +MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO THE REV. DR. LEWEN +SAT. AUG. 19. + + +REVEREND AND DEAR SIR, + +I thought, till I received your affectionate and welcome letter, that I +had neither father, uncle, brother left; nor hardly a friend among my +former favourers of your sex. Yet, knowing you so well, and having no +reason to upbraid myself with a faulty will, I was to blame, (even +although I had doubted the continuance of your good opinion,) to decline +the trial whether I had forfeited it or not; and if I had, whether I +could not honourably reinstate myself in it. + +But, Sir, it was owing to different causes that I did not; partly to +shame, to think how high, in my happier days, I stood in your esteem, and +how much I must be sunk in it, since those so much nearer in relation to +me gave me up; partly to deep distress, which makes the humbled heart +diffident; and made mine afraid to claim the kindred mind in your's, +which would have supplied to me in some measure all the dear and lost +relations I have named. + +Then, so loth, as I sometimes was, to be thought to want to make a party +against those whom both duty and inclination bid me reverence: so long +trailed on between hope and doubt: so little my own mistress at one time; +so fearful of making or causing mischief at another; and not being +encouraged to hope, by your kind notice, that my application to you would +be acceptable:--apprehending that my relations had engaged your silence +at least*--THESE--But why these unavailing retrospections now?--I was to +be unhappy--in order to be happy; that is my hope!--Resigning therefore +to that hope, I will, without any further preamble, write a few lines, +(if writing to you, I can write but a few,) in answer to the subject of +your kind letter. + + +* The stiff visit this good divine was prevailed upon to make her, as +mentioned in Vol. II. Letter XXXI. (of which, however, she was too +generous to remind him) might warrant the lady to think that he had +rather inclined to their party, as to the parental side, than to her's. + + +Permit me, then, to say, That I believe your arguments would have been +unanswerable in almost every other case of this nature, but in that of +the unhappy Clarissa Harlowe. + +It is certain that creatures who cannot stand the shock of public shame, +should be doubly careful how they expose themselves to the danger of +incurring private guilt, which may possibly bring them to it. But as to +myself, suppose there were no objections from the declining way I am in +as to my health; and supposing I could have prevailed upon myself to +appear against this man; were there not room to apprehend that the end so +much wished for by my friends, (to wit, his condign punishment,) would +not have been obtained, when it came to be seen that I had consented to +give him a clandestine meeting; and, in consequence of that, had been +weakly tricked out of living under one roof with him for several weeks; +which I did, (not only without complaint, but) without cause of +complaint? + +Little advantage in a court, (perhaps, bandied about, and jested +profligately with,) would some of those pleas in my favour have been, +which out of court, and to a private and serious audience, would have +carried the greatest weight against him--Such, particularly, as the +infamous methods to which he had recourse-- + +It would, no doubt, have been a ready retort from every mouth, that I +ought not to have thrown myself into the power of such a man, and that I +ought to take for my pains what had befallen me. + +But had the prosecution been carried on to effect, and had he even been +sentenced to death, can it be supposed that his family would not have had +interest enough to obtain his pardon, for a crime thought too lightly of, +though one of the greatest that can be committed against a creature +valuing her honour above her life?--While I had been censured as pursuing +with sanguinary views a man who offered me early all the reparation in +his power to make? + +And had he been pardoned, would he not then have been at liberty to do as +much mischief as ever? + +I dare say, Sir, such is the assurance of the man upon whom my unhappy +destiny threw me; and such his inveteracy to my family, (which would then +have appeared to be justified by their known inveteracy to him, and by +their earnest endeavours to take away his life;) that he would not have +been sorry to have had an opportunity to confront me, and my father, +uncles, and brother, at the bar of a court of justice, on such an +occasion. In which case, would not (on his acquittal, or pardon) +resentments have been reciprocally heightened? And then would my +brother, or my cousin Morden, have been more secure than now? + +How do these conditions aggravate my fault! My motives, at first, were +not indeed blamable: but I had forgotten the excellent caution, which yet +I was not ignorant of, That we ought not to do evil that good may come of +it. + +In full conviction of the purity of my heart, and of the firmness of my +principles, [Why may I not, thus called upon, say what I am conscious of, +and yet without the imputation of faulty pride; since all is but a duty, +and I should be utterly inexcusable, could I not justly say what I do?-- +In this full conviction,] he has offered me marriage. He has avowed his +penitence: a sincere penitence I have reason to think it, though perhaps +not a christian one. And his noble relations, (kinder to the poor +sufferer than her own,) on the same conviction, and his own not +ungenerous acknowledgements, have joined to intercede with me to forgive +and accept of him. Although I cannot comply with the latter part of +their intercession, have not you, Sir, from the best rules, and from the +divinest example, taught me to forgive injuries? + +The injury I have received from him is indeed of the highest nature, and +it was attended with circumstances of unmanly baseness and premeditation; +yet, I bless God, it has not tainted my mind; it has not hurt my morals. +No thanks indeed to the wicked man that it has not. No vile courses have +followed it. My will is unviolated. The evil, (respecting myself, and +not my friends,) is merely personal. No credulity, no weakness, no want +of vigilance, have I to reproach myself with. I have, through grace, +triumphed over the deepest machinations. I have escaped from him. I +have renounced him. The man whom once I could have loved, I have been +enabled to despise: And shall not charity complete my triumph? and shall +I not enjoy it?--And where would be my triumph if he deserved my +forgiveness?--Poor man! he has had a loss in losing me! I have the pride +to think so, because I think I know my own heart. I have had none in +losing him. + +But I have another plea to make, which alone would have been enough (as I +presume) to answer the contents of your very kind and friendly letter. + +I know, my dear and reverend friend, the spiritual guide and director of +my happier days! I know, that you will allow of my endeavour to bring +myself to this charitable disposition, when I tell you how near I think +myself to that great and awful moment, in which, and even in the ardent +preparation to which, every sense of indignity or injury that concerns +not the immortal soul, ought to be absorbed in higher and more important +contemplations. + +Thus much for myself. + +And for the satisfaction of my friends and favourers, Miss Howe is +solicitous to have all those letters and materials preserved, which will +set my whole story in a true light. The good Dr. Lewen is one of the +principal of those friends and favourers. + +The warning that may be given from those papers to all such young +creatures as may have known or heard of me, may be of more efficacy to +the end wished for, as I humbly presume to think, than my appearance +could have been in a court of justice, pursuing a doubtful event, under +the disadvantages I have mentioned. And if, my dear and good Sir, you +are now, on considering every thing, of this opinion, and I could know +it, I should consider it as a particular felicity; being as solicitous +as ever to be justified in what I may in your eyes. + +I am sorry, Sir, that your indisposition has reduced you to the necessity +of writing upon your pillow. But how much am I obliged to that kind and +generous concern for me, which has impelled you, as I may say, to write a +letter, containing so many paternal lines, with such inconvenience to +yourself! + +May the Almighty bless you, dear and reverend Sir, for all your goodness +to me of long time past, as well as for that which engaged my present +gratitude! Continue to esteem me to the last, as I do and will venerate +you! And let me bespeak your prayers, the continuance, I should say, of +your prayers; for I doubt not, that I have always had them: and to them, +perhaps, has in part been owing (as well as to your pious precepts +instilled through my earlier youth) that I have been able to make the +stand I have made; although every thing that you prayed for has not been +granted to me by that Divine Wisdom, which knows what is best for its +poor creatures. + +My prayers for you are, that it will please God to restore you to your +affectionate flock; and after as many years of life as shall be for his +service, and to your own comfort, give us a happy meeting in those +regions of blessedness, which you have taught me, as well by example, as +by precept, to aspire to! + +CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXVI + +MISS ARAB. HARLOWE, TO MISS CL. HARLOWE +[IN ANSWER TO HER'S TO HER UNCLE ANTONY OF AUG. 13.*] +MONDAY, AUG. 21. + + +* See Letter IV. of this volume. + + +SISTER CLARY, + +I find by your letters to my uncles, that they, as well as I, are in +great disgrace with you for writing our minds to you. + +We can't help it, sister Clary. + +You don't think it worth your while, I find, a second time to press for +the blessing you pretend to be so earnest about. You think, no doubt, +that you have done your duty in asking for it: so you'll sit down +satisfied with that, I suppose, and leave it to your wounded parents to +repent hereafter that they have not done theirs, in giving it to you, at +the first word; and in making such inquiries about you, as you think +ought to have been made. Fine encouragement to inquire after a run-away +daughter! living with her fellow as long as he would live with her! You +repent also (with your full mind, as you modestly call it) that you wrote +to me. + +So we are not likely to be applied to any more, I find, in this way. + +Well then, since this is the case, sister Clary, let me, with all +humility, address myself with a proposal or two to you; to which you will +be graciously pleased to give an answer. + +Now you must know, that we have had hints given us, from several +quarters, that you have been used in such a manner by the villain you ran +away with, that his life would be answerable for his crime, if it were +fairly to be proved. And, by your own hints, something like it appears +to us. + +If, Clary, there be any thing but jingle and affected period in what +proceeds from your full mind, and your dutiful consciousness; and if +there be truth in what Mrs. Norton and Mrs. Howe have acquainted us with; +you may yet justify your character to us, and to the world, in every +thing but your scandalous elopement; and the law may reach the villain: +and, could we but bring him to the gallows, what a meritorious revenge +would that be to our whole injured family, and to the innocents he has +deluded, as well as the saving from ruin many others! + +Let me, therefore, know (if you please) whether you are willing to appear +to do yourself, and us, and your sex, this justice? If not, sister +Clary, we shall know what to think of you; for neither you nor we can +suffer more than we have done from the scandal of your fall: and, if you +will, Mr. Ackland and counselor Derham will both attend you to make +proper inquiries, and to take minutes of your story, to found a process +upon, if it will bear one with as great a probability of success as we +are told it may be prosecuted with. + +But, by what Mrs. Howe intimates, this is not likely to be complied with; +for it is what she hinted to you, it seems, by her lively daughter, but +not without effect;* so prudently in some certain points, as to entitle +yourself to public justice; which, if true, the Lord have mercy upon you! + + +* See Vol. VI. Letter LXXII. + + +One word only more as to the above proposal:--Your admirer, Dr. Lewen, is +clear, in his opinion, that you should prosecute the villain. + +But if you will not agree to this, I have another proposal to make to +you, and that in the name of every one in the family; which is, that you +will think of going to Pensylvania to reside there for some few years +till all is blown over: and, if it please God to spare you, and your +unhappy parents, till they can be satisfied that you behave like a true +and uniform penitent; at least till you are one-and-twenty; you may then +come back to your own estate, or have the produce of it sent you thither, +as you shall choose. A period which my father fixes, because it is the +custom; and because he thinks your grandfather should have fixed it; and +because, let me add, you have fully proved by your fine conduct, that you +were not at years of discretion at eighteen. Poor doting, though good +old man!--Your grandfather, he thought--But I would not be too severe. + +Mr. Hartley has a widow-sister at Pensylvania, with whom he will +undertake you may board, and who is a sober, sensible, well-read woman. +And if you were once well there, it would rid your father and mother of +a world of cares, and fears, and scandal; and that I think is what you +should wish for of all things. + +Mr. Hartley will engage for all accommodations in your passage suitable +to your rank and fortune; and he has a concern in a ship, which will sail +in a month; and you may take your secret-keeping Hannah with you, or whom +you will of your newer acquaintance. 'Tis presumed that your companions +will be of your own sex. + +These are what I had to communicate to you; and if you'll oblige me with +an answer, (which the hand that conveys this will call for on Wednesday +morning,) it will be very condescending. + +ARABELLA HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXVII + +MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO MISS ARAB. HARLOWE +TUESDAY, AUG. 22. + + +Write to me, my hard-hearted Sister, in what manner you please, I shall +always be thankful to you for your notice. But (think what you will of +me) I cannot see Mr. Ackland and the counselor on such a business as you +mention. + +The Lord have mercy upon me indeed! for none else will. + +Surely I am believed to a creature past all shame, or it could not be +thought of sending two gentlemen to me on such an errand. + +Had my mother required of me (or would modesty have permitted you to +inquire into) the particulars of my sad story, or had Mrs. Norton been +directed to receive them from me, methinks it had been more fit: and I +presume to think that it would have been more in every one's character +too, had they been required of me before such heavy judgment had been +passed upon me as has been passed. + +I know that this is Dr. Lewen's opinion. He has been so good as to +enforce it in a kind letter to me. I have answered his letter; and given +such reasons as I hope will satisfy him. I could wish it were thought +worth while to request of him a sight of my answer.* + + +* Her letter, containing the reasons she refers to, was not asked for; +and Dr. Lewen's death, which fell out soon after he had received it, was +the reason that it was not communicated to the family, till it was too +late to do the service that might have been hoped for from it. + + +To your other proposal, of going to Pensylvania; this is my answer--If +nothing happen within a month which may full as effectually rid my +parents and friends of that world of cares, and fears, and scandals, +which you mention, and if I am then able to be carried on board of ship, +I will cheerfully obey my father and mother, although I were sure to die +in the passage. And, if I may be forgiven for saying so (for indeed it +proceeds not from a spirit of reprisal) you shall set over me, instead of +my poor obliging, but really-unculpable, Hannah, your Betty Barnes; to +whom I will be answerable for all my conduct. And I will make it worth +her while to accompany me. + +I am equally surprised and concerned at the hints which both you and my +uncle Antony give of new points of misbehaviour in me!--What can be meant +by them? + +I will not tell you, Miss Harlowe, how much I am afflicted at your +severity, and how much I suffer by it, and by your hard-hearted levity of +style, because what I shall say may be construed into jingle and period, +and because I know it is intended, very possibly for kind ends, to +mortify me. All I will therefore say is, that it does not lose its end, +if that be it. + +But, nevertheless, (divesting myself as much as possible of all +resentment,) I will only pray that Heaven will give you, for your own +sake, a kinder heart than at present you seem to have; since a kind +heart, I am convinced, is a greater blessing to its possessor than it can +be to any other person. Under this conviction I subscribe myself, my +dear Bella, + +Your ever-affectionate sister, +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXVIII + +MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +[IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF THURSDAY, AUG. 17.*] +TUESDAY, AUG. 22. + + +* See Letter VI. of this volume. + + +MY DEAREST YOUNG LADY, + +The letters you sent me I now return by the hand that brings you this. + +It is impossible for me to express how much I have been affected by them, +and by your last of the 17th. Indeed, my dear Miss Clary, you are very +harshly used; indeed you are! And if you should be taken from us, what +grief and what punishment are not treasuring up against themselves in the +heavy reflections which their rash censures and unforgivingness will +occasion them! + +But I find to what your uncle Antony's cruel letter is owing, as well as +one you will be still more afflicted by, [God help you, my poor dear +child!] when it comes to your hand, written by your sister, with +proposals to you.* + + +* See Letter XXVI. ibid. + + +It was finished to send you yesterday, I know; and I apprize you of it, +that you should fortify your heart against the contents of it. + +The motives which incline them all to this severity, if well grounded, +would authorize any severity they could express, and which, while they +believe them to be so, both they and you are to be equally pitied. + +They are owning to the information of that officious Mr. Brand, who has +acquainted them (from some enemy of your's in the neighbourhood about +you) that visits are made you, highly censurable, by a man of a free +character, and an intimate of Mr. Lovelace; who is often in private with +you; sometimes twice or thrice a day. + +Betty gives herself great liberties of speech upon this occasion, and all +your friends are too ready to believe that things are not as they should +be; which makes me wish that, let the gentleman's views be ever so +honourable, you could entirely drop acquaintance with him. + +Something of this nature was hinted at by Betty to me before, but so +darkly that I could not tell what to make of it; and this made me mention +to you so generally as I did in my last. + +Your cousin Morden has been among them. He is exceedingly concerned for +your misfortunes; and as they will not believe Mr. Lovelace would marry +you, he is determined to go to Lord M.'s, in order to inform himself from +Mr. Lovelace's own mouth, whether he intends to do you that justice or +not. + +He was extremely caressed by every one at his first arrival; but I am +told there is some little coldness between them and him at present. + +I was in hopes of getting a sight of this letter of Mr. Brand: (a rash +officious man!) but it seems Mr. Morden had it given him yesterday to +read, and he took it away with him. + +God be your comfort, my dear Miss! But indeed I am exceedingly disturbed +at the thoughts of what may still be the issue of all these things. I +am, my beloved young lady, + +Your most affectionate and faithful +JUDITH NORTON. + + + +LETTER XXIX + +MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +TUESDAY, AUG. 22. + + +After I had sealed up the enclosed, I had the honour of a private visit +from your aunt Hervey; who has been in a very low-spirited way, and kept +her chamber for several weeks past; and is but just got abroad. + +She longed, she said, to see me, and to weep with me, on the hard fate +that had befallen her beloved niece. + +I will give you a faithful account of what passed between us; as I expect +that it will, upon the whole, administer hope and comfort to you. + +'She pitied very much your good mother, who, she assured me, is obliged +to act a part entirely contrary to her inclinations; as she herself, she +owns, had been in a great measure. + +'She said, that the poor lady was with great difficulty with-held from +answering your letter to her; which had (as was your aunt's expression) +almost broken the heart of every one: that she had reason to think that +she was neither consenting to your two uncles writing, nor approving of +what they wrote. + +'She is sure they all love you dearly; but have gone so far, that they +know not how to recede. + +'That, but for the abominable league which your brother had got every +body into (he refusing to set out for Scotland till it was renewed, and +till they had all promised to take no step towards a reconciliation in +his absence but by his consent; and to which your sister's resentments +kept them up); all would before now have happily subsided. + +'That nobody knew the pangs which their inflexible behaviour gave them, +ever since you had begun to write to them in so affecting and humble a +style. + +'That, however, they were not inclined to believe that you were either so +ill, or so penitent as you really are; and still less, that Mr. Lovelace +is in earnest in his offers of marriage. + +'She is sure, however, she says, that all will soon be well: and the +sooner for Mr. Morden's arrival: who is very zealous in your behalf. + +'She wished to Heaven that you would accept of Mr. Lovelace, wicked as he +has been, if he were now in earnest. + +'It had always,' she said, 'been matter of astonishment to her, that so +weak a pride in her cousin James, of making himself the whole family, +should induce them all to refuse an alliance with such a family as Mr. +Lovelace's was. + +'She would have it, that your going off with Mr. Lovelace was the +unhappiest step for your honour and your interest that could have been +taken; for that although you would have had a severe trial the next day, +yet it would probably have been the last; and your pathetic powers must +have drawn you off some friends--hinting at your mother, at your uncle +Harlowe, at your uncle Hervey, and herself.' + +But here (that the regret that you did not trust to the event of that +meeting, may not, in your present low way, too much afflict you) I must +observe, that it seems a little too evident, even from this opinion of +your aunt's, that it was not absolutely determined that all compulsion +was designed to be avoided, since your freedom from it must have been +owing to the party to be made among them by your persuasive eloquence and +dutiful expostulation. + +'She owned, that some of them were as much afraid of meeting you as you +could be of meeting them:'--But why so, if they designed, in the last +instance, to give you your way? + +Your aunt told me, 'That Mrs. Williams* had been with her, and asked her +opinion, if it would be taken amiss, if she desired leave to go up, to +attend her dearest young lady in her calamity. Your aunt referred her to +your mother: but had heard no more of it. + + +* The former housekeeper at Harlowe-place. + + +'Her daughter,' (Miss Dolly,) she said, 'had been frequently earnest with +her on the same subject; and renewed her request with the greatest +fervour when your first letter came to hand.' + +Your aunt says, 'That she then being very ill, wrote to your mother upon +it, hoping it would not be taken amiss if she permitted Dolly to go; but +that your sister, as from your mother, answered her, That now you seemed +to be coming-to, and to have a due sense of your faults, you must be left +entirely to their own management. + +'Miss Dolly,' she said, 'had pined ever since she had heard of Mr. +Lovelace's baseness, being doubly mortified by it: first, on account of +your sufferings; next, because she was one who rejoiced in your getting +off, and vindicated you for it; and had incurred censure and ill-will on +that account; especially from your brother and sister; so that she seldom +went to Harlowe-place.' + +Make the best use of these intelligences, my dearest young lady, for your +consolation. + +I will only add, that I am, with the most fervent prayers for your +recovery and restoration to favour, + +Your ever-faithful +JUDITH NORTON. + + + +LETTER XXX + +MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO MRS. JUDITH NORTON +THURSDAY, AUG. 24. + + +The relation of such a conversation as passed between my aunt and you +would have given me pleasure, had it come some time ago; because it would +have met with a spirit more industrious than mine now is, to pick out +remote comfort in the hope of a favourable turn that might one day have +rewarded my patient duty. + +I did not doubt my aunt's good-will to me. Her affection I did not +doubt. But shall we wonder that kings and princes meet with so little +controul in their passions, be they every so violent, when, in a private +family, an aunt, nay, even a mother in that family, shall choose to give +up a once-favoured child against their own inclinations, rather than +oppose an aspiring young man, who had armed himself with the authority of +a father, who, when once determined, never would be expostulated with? + +And will you not blame me, if I say, that good sense, that kindred +indulgence, must be a little offended at the treatment I have met with; +and if I own, that I think that great rigour has been exercised towards +me! And yet I am now authorized to call it rigour by the judgment of two +excellent sisters, my mother and my aunt, who acknowledge (as you tell me +from my aunt) that they have been obliged to join against me, contrary to +their inclinations; and that even in a point which might seem to concern +my eternal welfare. + +But I must not go on at this rate. For may not the inclination my mother +has given up be the effect of a too-fond indulgence, rather than that I +merit the indulgence? And yet so petulantly perverse am I, that I must +tear myself from the subject. + +All then that I will say further to it, at this time, is, that were the +intended goodness to be granted to me but a week hence, it would possibly +be too late--too late I mean to be of the consolation to me that I would +wish from it: for what an inefficacious preparation must I have been +making, if it has not, by this time, carried me above--But above what?-- +Poor mistaken creature! Unhappy self-deluder! that finds herself above +nothing! Nor able to subdue her own faulty impatience! + +But in-deed, to have done with a subject that I dare not trust myself +with, if it come in your way, let my aunt Hervey, let my dear cousin +Dolly, let the worthy Mrs. Williams, know how exceedingly grateful to me +their kind intentions and concern for me are: and, as the best warrant +or justification of their good opinions, (since I know that their favour +for me is founded on the belief that I loved virtue,) tell them, that I +continued to love virtue to my last hour, as I presume to hope it may be +said; and assure them that I never made the least wilful deviation, +however unhappy I became for one faulty step; which nevertheless was not +owing to unworthy or perverse motives. + +I am very sorry that my cousin Morden has taken a resolution to see Mr. +Lovelace. + +My apprehensions on this intelligence are a great abatement to the +pleasure I have in knowing that he still loves me. + +My sister's letter to me is a most affecting one--so needlessly, so +ludicrously taunting!--But for that part of it that is so, I ought rather +to pity her, than to be so much concerned at it as I am. + +I wonder what I have done to Mr. Brand--I pray God to forgive both him +and his informants, whoever they be. But if the scandal arise solely +from Mr. Belford's visits, a very little time will confute it. Mean +while, the packet I shall send you, which I sent to Miss Howe, will, I +hope, satisfy you, my dear Mrs. Norton, as to my reasons for admitting +his visits. + +My sister's taunting letter, and the inflexibleness of my dearer friends +--But how do remoter-begun subjects tend to the point which lies nearest +the heart!--As new-caught bodily disorders all crowd to a fractured or +distempered part. + +I will break off, with requesting your prayers that I may be blessed with +patience and due resignation; and with assuring you, that I am, and will +be to the last hour of my life, + +Your equally grateful and affectionate +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXXI + +MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +[IN REPLY TO HER'S OF FRIDAY, AUG. 11.*] +YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT, AUG. 23. + + +* See Letter II. of this volume. + + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +I have read the letters and copies of letters you favoured me with: and I +return them by a particular hand. I am extremely concerned at your +indifferent state of health: but I approve of all your proceedings and +precautions in relation to the appointment of Mr. Belford for an office, +in which, I hope, neither he nor any body else will be wanted to act, for +many, very many years. + +I admire, and so we do all, that greatness of mind which can make you so +stedfastly [sic] despise (through such inducements as no other woman +could resist, and in such desolate circumstances as you have been reduced +to) the wretch that ought to be so heartily despised and detested. + +What must the contents of those letters from your relations be, which you +will not communicate to me!--Fie upon them! How my heart rises!--But I +dare say no more--though you yourself now begin to think they use you +with great severity. + +Every body here is so taken with Mr. Hickman (and the more from the +horror they conceive at the character of the detestable Lovelace,) that I +have been teased to death almost to name a day. This has given him airs: +and, did I not keep him to it, he would behave as carelessly and as +insolently as if he were sure of me. I have been forced to mortify him +no less than four times since we have been here. + +I made him lately undergo a severe penance for some negligences that were +not to be passed over. Not designed ones, he said: but that was a poor +excuse, as I told him: for, had they been designed, he should never have +come into my presence more: that they were not, showed his want of +thought and attention; and those were inexcusable in a man only in his +probatory state. + +He hoped he had been more than in a probatory state, he said. + +And therefore, Sir, might be more careless!--So you add ingratitude to +negligence, and make what you plead as accident, that itself wants an +excuse, design, which deserves none. + +I would not see him for two days, and he was so penitent, and so humble, +that I had like to have lost myself, to make him amends: for, as you have +said, resentment carried too high, often ends in amends too humble. + +I long to be nearer to you: but that must not yet be, it seems. Pray, my +dear, let me hear from you as often as you can. + +May Heaven increase your comforts, and restore your health, are the +prayers of + +Your ever faithful and affectionate +ANNA HOWE. + + +P.S. Excuse me that I did not write before: it was owing to a little + coasting voyage I was obliged to give into. + + + +LETTER XXXII + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE +FRIDAY, AUG. 25. + + +You are very obliging, my dear Miss Howe, to account to me for your +silence. I was easy in it, as I doubted not that, among such near and +dear friends as you are with, you was diverted from writing by some such +agreeable excursion as that you mention. + +I was in hopes that you had given over, at this time of day, those very +sprightly airs, which I have taken the liberty to blame you for, as often +as you have given me occasion to so do; and that has been very often. + +I was always very grave with you upon this subject: and while your own +and a worthy man's future happiness are in the question, I must enter +into it, whenever you forget yourself, although I had not a day to live: +and indeed I am very ill. + +I am sure it was not your intention to take your future husband with you +to the little island to make him look weak and silly among those of your +relations who never before had seen him. Yet do you think it possible +for them (however prepared and resolved they may be to like him) to +forbear smiling at him, when they see him suffering under your whimsical +penances? A modest man should no more be made little in his own eyes, +than in the eyes of others. If he be, he will have a diffidence, which +will give an awkwardness to every thing he says or does; and this will be +no more to the credit of your choice than to that of the approbation he +meets with from your friends, or to his own credit. + +I love an obliging, and even an humble, deportment in a man to the woman +he addresses. It is a mark of his politeness, and tends to give her that +opinion of herself, which it may be supposed bashful merit wants to be +inspired with. But if the woman exacts it with an high hand, she shows +not either her own politeness or gratitude; although I must confess she +does her courage. I gave you expectations that I would be very serious +with you. + +O my dear, that it had been my lot (as I was not permitted to live +single,) to have met with a man by whom I could have acted generously and +unreservedly! + +Mr. Lovelace, it is now plain, in order to have a pretence against me, +taxed my behaviour to him with stiffness and distance. You, at one time, +thought me guilty of some degree of prudery. Difficult situations should +be allowed for: which often make seeming occasions for censure +unavoidable. I deserved not blame from him who made mine difficult. And +you, my dear, had I any other man to deal with, or had he but half the +merit which Mr. Hickman has, would have found that my doctrine on this +subject should have governed my practice. + +But to put myself out of the question--I'll tell you what I should think, +were I an indifferent by-stander, of those high airs of your's, in return +for Mr. Hickman's humble demeanour. 'The lady thinks of having the +gentleman, I see plainly, would I say. But I see as plainly, that she +has a very great indifference to him. And to what may this indifference +be owing? To one or all of these considerations, no doubt: that she +receives his addresses rather from motives of convenience than choice: +that she thinks meanly of his endowments and intellects; at least more +highly of her own: or, she has not the generosity to use that power with +moderation, which his great affection for her puts into her hands.' + +How would you like, my dear, to have any of these things said? + +Then to give but the shadow of a reason for free-livers and free speakers +to say, or to imagine, that Miss Howe gives her hand to a man who has no +reason to expect any share in her heart, I am sure you would not wish +that such a thing should be so much as supposed. Then all the regard +from you to come afterwards; none to be shown before; must, should I +think, be capable of being construed as a compliment to the husband, made +at the expense of the wife's and even of the sex's delicacy! + +There is no fear that attempts could be formed by the most audacious [two +Lovelaces there cannot be!] upon a character so revered for virtue, and +so charmingly spirited, as Miss Howe's: yet, to have any man encouraged +to despise a husband by the example of one who is most concerned to do +him honour; what, my dear, think you of that? It is but too natural for +envious men (and who that knows Miss Howe, will not envy Mr. Hickman!) to +scoff at, and to jest upon, those who are treated with or will bear +indignity from a woman. + +If a man so treated have a true and ardent love for the woman he +addresses, he will be easily overawed by her displeasure: and this will +put him upon acts of submission, which will be called meanness. And what +woman of true spirit would like to have it said, that she would impose +any thing upon the man from whom she one day expects protection and +defence, that should be capable of being construed as a meanness, or +unmanly abjectness in his behaviour, even to herself?--Nay, I am not +sure, and I ask it of you, my dear, to resolve me, whether, in your own +opinion, it is not likely, that a woman of spirit will despise rather +than value more, the man who will take patiently an insult at her hands; +especially before company. + +I have always observed, that prejudices in disfavour of a person at his +first appearance, fix deeper, and are much more difficult to be removed +when fixed, than that malignant principle so eminently visible in little +minds, which makes them wish to bring down the more worthy characters to +their own low level, I pretend not to determine. When once, therefore, a +woman of your good sense gives room to the world to think she has not an +high opinion of the lover, whom nevertheless she entertains, it will be +very difficult for her afterwards to make that world think so well as she +would have it of the husband she has chosen. + +Give me leave to observe, that to condescend with dignity, and to command +with such kindness, and sweetness of manners, as should let the +condescension, while in a single state, be seen and acknowledged, are +points, which a wise woman, knowing her man, should aim at: and a wise +woman, I should think, would choose to live single all her life rather +than give herself to a man whom she thinks unworthy of a treatment so +noble. + +But when a woman lets her lover see that she has the generosity to +approve of and reward a well-meant service; that she has a mind that +lifts her above the little captious follies, which some (too +licentiously, I hope,) attribute to the sex in general: that she resents +not (if ever she thinks she has reason to be displeased) with petulance, +or through pride: nor thinks it necessary to insist upon little points, +to come at or secure great ones, perhaps not proper to be aimed at: nor +leaves room to suppose she has so much cause to doubt her own merit, as +to put the love of the man she intends to favour upon disagreeable or +arrogant trials: but let reason be the principal guide of her actions-- +she will then never fail of that true respect, of that sincere +veneration, which she wishes to meet with; and which will make her +judgment after marriage consulted, sometimes with a preference to a man's +own; at other times as a delightful confirmation of his. + +And so much, my beloved Miss Howe, for this subject now, and I dare say, +for ever! + +I will begin another letter by-and-by, and send both together. Mean +time, I am, &c. + + + +LETTER XXXIII + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE + + +[In this letter, the Lady acquaints Miss Howe with Mr. Brand's report; + with her sister's proposals either that she will go abroad, or + prosecute Mr. Lovelace. She complains of the severe letters of + her uncle Antony and her sister; but in milder terms than they + deserved. + +She sends her Dr. Lewen's letter, and the copy of her answer to it. + +She tells her of the difficulties she had been under to avoid seeing Mr. + Lovelace. She gives her the contents of the letter she wrote to + him to divert him from his proposed visit: she is afraid, she says, + that it is a step that is not strictly right, if allegory or + metaphor be not allowable to one in her circumstances. + +She informs her of her cousin Morden's arrival and readiness to take her + part with her relations; of his designed interview with Mr. + Lovelace; and tells her what her apprehensions are upon it. + +She gives her the purport of the conversation between her aunt Hervey and + Mrs. Norton. And then adds:] + + +But were they ever so favourably inclined to me now, what can they do for +me? I wish, and that for their sakes more than for my own, that they +would yet relent--but I am very ill--I must drop my pen--a sudden +faintness overspreads my heart--excuse my crooked writing!--Adieu, my +dear!--Adieu! + + +THREE O'CLOCK, FRIDAY. + +Once more I resume my pen. I thought I had taken my last farewell to +you. I never was so very oddly affected: something that seemed totally +to overwhelm my faculties--I don't know how to describe it--I believe I +do amiss in writing so much, and taking too much upon me: but an active +mind, though clouded by bodily illness, cannot be idle. + +I'll see if the air, and a discontinued attention, will help me. But, if +it will not, don't be concerned for me, my dear. I shall be happy. Nay, +I am more so already than of late I thought I could ever be in this life. +--Yet how this body clings!--How it encumbers! + + +SEVEN O'CLOCK. + +I could not send this letter away with so melancholy an ending, as you +would have thought it. So I deferred closing it, till I saw how I should +be on my return from my airing: and now I must say I am quite another +thing: so alert! that I could proceed with as much spirit as I began, and +add more preachment to your lively subject, if I had not written more +than enough upon it already. + +I wish you would let me give you and Mr. Hickman joy. Do, my dear. I +should take some to myself, if you would. + +My respectful compliments to all your friends, as well to those I have +the honour to know, as to those I do not know. + + +*** + + +I have just now been surprised with a letter from one whom I long ago +gave up all thoughts of hearing from. From Mr. Wyerley. I will enclose +it. You'll be surprised at it as much as I was. This seems to be a man +whom I might have reclaimed. But I could not love him. Yet I hope I +never treated him with arrogance. Indeed, my dear, if I am not too +partial to myself, I think I refused him with more gentleness, than you +retain somebody else. And this recollection gives me less pain than I +should have had in the other case, on receiving this instance of a +generosity that affects me. I will also enclose the rough draught of my +answer, as soon as I have transcribed it. + +If I begin another sheet, I shall write to the end of it: wherefore I +will only add my prayers for your honour and prosperity, and for a long, +long, happy life; and that, when it comes to be wound up, you may be as +calm and as easy at quitting it as I hope in God I shall be. I am, and +will be, to the latest moment, + +Your truly affectionate and obliged servant, +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXXIV + +MR. WYERLEY, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +WEDNESDAY, AUG. 23. + + +DEAREST MADAM, + +You will be surprised to find renewed, at this distance of time, an +address so positively though so politely discouraged: but, however it be +received, I must renew it. Every body has heard that you have been +vilely treated by a man who, to treat you ill, must be the vilest of men. +Every body knows your just resentment of his base treatment: that you are +determined never to be reconciled to him: and that you persist in these +sentiments against all the entreaties of his noble relations, against all +the prayers and repentance of his ignoble self. And all the world that +have the honour to know you, or have heard of him, applaud your +resolution, as worthy of yourself; worthy of your virtue, and of that +strict honour which was always attributed to you by every one who spoke +of you. + +But, Madam, were all the world to have been of a different opinion, it +could never have altered mine. I ever loved you; I ever must love you. +Yet have I endeavoured to resign to my hard fate. When I had so many +ways, in vain, sought to move you in my favour, I sat down seemingly +contented. I even wrote to you that I would sit down contented. And I +endeavoured to make all my friends and companions think I was. But +nobody knows what pangs this self-denial cost me! In vain did the chace, +in vain did travel, in vain did lively company, offer themselves, and +were embraced in their turn: with redoubled force did my passion for you +renew my unhappiness, when I looked into myself, into my own heart; for +there did your charming image sit enthroned; and you engrossed me all. + +I truly deplore those misfortunes, and those sufferings, for your own +sake; which nevertheless encourage me to renew my old hope. I know not +particulars. I dare not inquire after them; because my sufferings would +be increased with the knowledge of what your's have been. I therefore +desire not to know more than what common report wounds my ears with; and +what is given me to know, by your absence from your cruel family, and +from the sacred place, where I, among numbers of your rejected admirers, +used to be twice a week sure to behold you doing credit to that service +of which your example gave me the highest notions. But whatever be those +misfortunes, of whatsoever nature those sufferings, I shall bless the +occasion for my own sake (though for your's curse the author of them,) if +they may give me the happiness to know that this my renewed address may +not be absolutely rejected.--Only give me hope, that it may one day meet +with encouragement, if in the interim nothing happen, either in my morals +or behaviour, to give you fresh offence. Give me but hope of this--not +absolutely to reject me is all the hope I ask for; and I will love you, +if possible, still more than I ever loved you--and that for your +sufferings; for well you deserve to be loved, even to adoration, who can, +for honour's and for virtue's sake, subdue a passion which common spirits +[I speak by cruel experience] find invincible; and this at a time when +the black offender kneels and supplicates, as I am well assured he does, +(all his friends likewise supplicating for him,) to be forgiven. + +That you cannot forgive him, not forgive him so as to receive him again +to favour, is no wonder. His offence is against virtue: this is a part +of your essence. What magnanimity is this! How just to yourself, and to +your spotless character! Is it any merit to admire more than ever a lady +who can so exaltedly distinguish? It is not. I cannot plead it. + +What hope have I left, may it be said, when my address was before +rejected, now, that your sufferings, so nobly borne, have, with all the +good judges, exalted your character? Yet, Madam, I have to pride myself +in this, that while your friends (not looking upon you in the just light +I do) persecute and banish you; while your estate is withheld from you, +and threatened (as I know,) to be withheld, as long as the chicaning law, +or rather the chicaneries of its practisers, can keep it from you: while +you are destitute of protection; every body standing aloof, either +through fear of the injurer of one family, or of the hard-hearted of the +other; I pride myself, I say, to stand forth, and offer my fortune, and +my life, at your devotion. With a selfish hope indeed: I should be too +great an hypocrite not to own this! and I know how much you abhor +insincerity. + +But, whether you encourage that hope or not, accept my best services, I +beseech you, Madam: and be pleased to excuse me for a piece of honest +art, which the nature of the case (doubting the honour of your notice +otherwise) makes me choose to conclude with--it is this: + +If I am to be still the most unhappy of men, let your pen by one line +tell me so. If I am permitted to indulge a hope, however distant, your +silence shall be deemed, by me, the happiest indication of it that you +can give--except that still happier--(the happiest than can befall me,) +a signification that you will accept the tender of that life and fortune, +which it would be my pride and my glory to sacrifice in your service, +leaving the reward to yourself. + +Be your determination as it may, I must for ever admire and love you. +Nor will I ever change my condition, while you live, whether you change +your's or not: for, having once had the presumption to address you, I +cannot stoop to think of any other woman: and this I solemnly declare in +the presence of that God, whom I daily pray to bless and protect you, be +your determination what it will with regard to, dearest Madam, + +Your most devoted and ever affectionate +and faithful servant, +ALEXANDER WYERLEY. + + + +LETTER XXXV + +MISS CL. HARLOWE, TO ALEX. WYERLEY, ESQ. +SAT. AUG. 26. + + +SIR, + +The generosity of your purpose would have commanded not only my notice, +but my thanks, although you had not given me the alternative you are +pleased to call artful. And I do therefore give you my thanks for your +kind letter. + +At the time you distinguished me by your favourable opinion, I told you, +Sir, that my choice was the single life. And most truly did I tell you +so. + +When that was not permitted me, and I looked round upon the several +gentlemen who had been proposed to me, and had reason to believe that +there was not one of them against whose morals or principles there lay +not some exception, it would not have been much to be wondered at, if +FANCY had been allowed to give a preference, where JUDGMENT was at a loss +to determine. + +Far be it from me to say this with a design to upbraid you, Sir, or to +reflect upon you. I always wished you well. You had reason to think I +did. You had the generosity to be pleased with the frankness of my +behaviour to you; as I had with that of your's to me; and I am sorry, +very sorry, to be now told, that the acquaintance you obliged me with +gave you so much pain. + +Had the option I have mentioned been allowed me afterwards, (as I not +only wished, but proposed,) things had not happened that did happen. But +there was a kind of fatality by which our whole family was impelled, as I +may say; and which none of us were permitted to avoid. But this is a +subject that cannot be dwelt upon. + +As matters are, I have only to wish, for your own sake, that you will +encourage and cultivate those good motions in your mind, to which many +passages in your kind and generous letter now before me must be owing. +Depend upon it, Sir, that such motions, wrought into habit, will yield +you pleasure at a time when nothing else can; and at present, shining out +in your actions and conversation, will commend you to the worthiest of +our sex. For, Sir, the man who is so good upon choice, as well as by +education, has that quality in himself, which ennobles the human race, +and without which the most dignified by birth or rank are ignoble. + +As to the resolution you solemnly make not to marry while I live, I +should be concerned at it, were I not morally sure that you may keep it, +and yet not be detrimented by it: since a few, a very few days, will +convince you, that I am got above all human dependence; and that there is +no need of that protection and favour, which you so generously offer to, +Sir, + +Your obliged well-wisher, and humble servant, +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XXXVI + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +MONDAY NOON, AUG. 28. + + +About the time of poor Belton's interment last night, as near as we could +guess, Lord M., Mowbray, and myself, toasted once, To the memory of +honest Tom. Belton; and, by a quick transition to the living, Health to +Miss Harlowe; which Lord M. obligingly began, and, To the happy +reconciliation; and then we stuck in a remembrance To honest Jack +Belford, who, of late, we all agreed, is become an useful and humane man; +and one who prefers his friend's service to his own. + +But what is the meaning I hear nothing from thee?* And why dost thou not +let me into the grounds of the sudden reconciliation between my beloved +and her friends, and the cause of the generous invitation which she gives +me of attending her at her father's some time hence? + + +* Mr. Belford has not yet sent him his last-written letter. His reason +for which see Letter XXIII. of this volume. + + +Thou must certainly have been let into the secret by this time; and I can +tell thee, I shall be plaguy jealous if there is to be any one thing pass +between my angel and thee that is to be concealed from me. For either I +am a principal in this cause, or I am nothing. + +I have dispatched Will. to know the reason of thy neglect. + +But let me whisper a word or two in thy ear. I begin to be afraid, after +all, that this letter was a stratagem to get me out of town, and for +nothing else: for, in the first place, Tourville, in a letter I received +this morning, tells me, that the lady is actually very ill! [I am sorry +for it with all my soul!]. This, thou'lt say, I may think a reason why +she cannot set out as yet: but then I have heard, on the other hand, but +last night, that the family is as implacable as ever; and my Lord and I +expect this very afternoon a visit from Colonel Morden; who, undertakes, +it seems, to question me as to my intention with regard to his cousin. + +This convinces me, that if she has apprized her friends of my offers to +her, they will not believe me to be in earnest, till they are assured +that I am so from my own mouth. But then I understand, that the intended +visit is an officiousness of Morden's own, without the desire of any of +her friends. + +Now, Jack, what can a man make of all this? My intelligence as to the +continuance of her family's implacableness is not to be doubted; and yet +when I read her letter, what can one say?--Surely, the dear little rogue +will not lie! + +I never knew her dispense with her word, but once; and that was, when she +promised to forgive me after the dreadful fire that had like to have +happened at our mother's, and yet would not see me the next day, and +afterwards made her escape to Hampstead, in order to avoid forgiving me: +and as she severely smarted for this departure from her honour given, +(for it is a sad thing for good people to break their word when it is in +their power to keep it,) one would not expect that she should set about +deceiving again; more especially by the premeditation of writing. Thou, +perhaps, wilt ask, what honest man is obliged to keep his promise with a +highwayman? for well I know thy unmannerly way of making comparisons; but +I say, every honest man is--and I will give thee an illustration. + +Here is a marauding varlet, who demands your money, with a pistol at your +breast. You have neither money nor valuable effects about you; and +promise solemnly, if he will spare your life, that you will send him an +agreed-upon sum, by such a day, to such a place. + +The question is, if your life is not in the fellow's power? + +How he came by the power is another question; for which he must answer +with his life when caught--so he runs risque for risque. + +Now if he give you your life, does he not give, think you, a valuable +consideration for the money you engage your honour to send him? If not, +the sum must be exorbitant, or your life is a very paltry one, even in +your own opinion. + +I need not make the application; and I am sure that even thou thyself, +who never sparest me, and thinkest thou knowest my heart by thy own, +canst not possibly put the case in a stronger light against me. + +Then, why do good people take upon themselves to censure, as they do, +persons less scrupulous than themselves? Is it not because the latter +allow themselves in any liberty, in order to carry a point? And can my +not doing my duty, warrant another for not doing his?--Thou wilt not say +it can. + +And how would it sound, to put the case as strongly once more, as my +greatest enemy would put it, both as to fact and in words--here has that +profligate wretch Lovelace broken his vow with and deceived Miss Clarissa +Harlowe.--A vile fellow! would an enemy say: but it is like him. But +when it comes to be said that the pious Clarissa has broken her word with +and deceived Lovelace; Good Lord! would every one say; sure it cannot be! + +Upon my soul, Jack, such is the veneration I have for this admirable +woman, that I am shocked barely at putting the case--and so wilt thou, if +thou respectest her as thou oughtest: for thou knowest that men and +women, all the world over, form their opinions of one another by each +person's professions and known practices. In this lady, therefore, it +would be unpardonable to tell a wilful untruth, as it would be strange if +I kept my word.--In love cases, I mean; for, as to the rest, I am an +honest, moral man, as all who know me can testify. + +And what, after all, would this lady deserve, if she has deceived me in +this case? For did she not set me prancing away, upon Lord M.'s best +nag, to Lady Sarah's, and to Lady Betty's, with an erect and triumphing +countenance, to show them her letter to me? + +And let me tell thee, that I have received their congratulations upon it: +Well, and now, cousin Lovelace, cries one: Well, and now, cousin +Lovelace, cries t'other; I hope you will make the best of husbands to so +excellent and so forgiving a lady!--And now we shall soon have the +pleasure of looking upon you as a reformed man, added one! And now we +shall see you in the way we have so long wished you to be in, cried the +other! + +My cousins Montague also have been ever since rejoicing in the new +relationship. Their charming cousin, and their lovely cousin, at every +word! And how dearly they will love he! What lessons they will take +from her! And yet Charlotte, who pretends to have the eye of an eagle, +was for finding out some mystery in the style and manner, till I overbore +her, and laughed her out of it. + +As for Lord M. he has been in hourly expectation of being sent to with +proposals of one sort or other from the Harlowes; and still we have it, +that such proposals will be made by Colonel Morden when he comes; and +that the Harlowes only put on a face of irreconcileableness, till they +know the issue of Morden's visit, in order to make the better terms with +us. + +Indeed, if I had not undoubted reason, as I said, to believe the +continuance of their antipathy to me, and implacableness to her, I should +be apt to think there might be some foundation for my Lord's conjecture; +for there is a cursed deal of low cunning in all that family, except in +the angel of it; who has so much generosity of soul, that she despises +cunning, both name and thing. + +What I mean by all this is, to let thee see what a stupid figure I shall +make to all my own family, if my Clarissa has been capable, as Gulliver +in his abominable Yahoo story phrases it, if it were only that I should +be outwitted by such a novice at plotting, and that it would make me look +silly to my kinswomen here, who know I value myself upon my contrivances, +it would vex me to the heart; and I would instantly clap a featherbed +into a coach and six, and fetch her away, sick or well, and marry her at +my leisure. + +But Col. Morden is come, and I must break off. + + + +LETTER XXXVII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +MONDAY NIGHT, AUG. 28. + + +I doubt you will be all impatience that you have not heard from me since +mine of Thursday last. You would be still more so, if you knew that I +had by me a letter ready written. + +I went early yesterday morning to Epsom; and found every thing disposed +according to the directions I had left on Friday; and at night the solemn +office was performed. Tourville was there; and behaved very decently, +and with greater concern than I thought he would ever have expressed for +any body. + +Thomasine, they told me, in a kind of disguise, was in an obscure pew, +out of curiosity (for it seems she was far from showing any tokens of +grief) to see the last office performed for the man whose heart she had +so largely contributed to break. + +I was obliged to stay till this afternoon, to settle several necessary +matters, and to direct inventories to be taken, in order for +appraisement; for every thing is to be turned into money, by his will. +I presented his sister with the hundred guineas the poor man left me as +his executor, and desired her to continue in the house, and take the +direction of every thing, till I could hear from his nephew at Antigua, +who is heir at law. He had left her but fifty pounds, although he knew +her indigence; and that it was owing to a vile husband, and not to +herself, that she was indigent. + +The poor man left about two hundred pounds in money, and two hundred +pounds in two East-India bonds; and I will contrive, if I can, to make +up the poor woman's fifty pounds, and my hundred guineas, two hundred +pounds to her; and then she will have some little matter coming in +certain, which I will oblige her to keep out of the hands of a son, who +has completed that ruin which his father had very nearly effected. + +I gave Tourville his twenty pounds, and will send you and Mowbray your's +by the first order. + +And so much for poor Belton's affairs till I see you. + +I got to town in the evening, and went directly to Smith's. I found Mrs. +Lovick and Mrs. Smith in the back shop, and I saw they had been both in +tears. They rejoiced to see me, however; and told me, that the Doctor +and Mr. Goddard were but just gone; as was also the worthy clergyman, who +often comes to pray by her; and all three were of opinion, that she would +hardly live to see the entrance of another week. I was not so much +surprised as grieved; for I had feared as much when I left her on +Saturday. + +I sent up my compliments; and she returned, that she would take it for a +favour if I would call upon her in the morning by eight o'clock. Mrs. +Lovick told me that she had fainted away on Saturday, while she was +writing, as she had done likewise the day before; and having received +benefit then by a little turn in a chair, she was carried abroad again. +She returned somewhat better; and wrote till late; yet had a pretty good +night: and went to Covent-garden church in the morning; but came home so +ill that she was obliged to lie down. + +When she arose, seeing how much grieved Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith were +for her, she made apologies for the trouble she gave them--You were +happy, said she, before I came hither. It was a cruel thing in me to +come amongst honest strangers, and to be sick, and die with you. + +When they touched upon the irreconcileableness of her friends, I have had +ill offices done me to them, said she, and they do not know how ill I am; +nor will they believe any thing I should write. But yet I cannot +sometimes forbear thinking it a little hard, that out of so many near and +dear friends as I have living, not one of them will vouchsafe to look +upon me. No old servant, no old friend, proceeded she, to be permitted +to come near me, without being sure of incurring displeasure! And to +have such a great work to go through by myself, a young creature as I am, +and to have every thing to think of as to my temporal matters, and to +order, to my very interment! No dear mother, said the sweet sufferer, to +pray by me and bless me!--No kind sister to sooth and comfort me!--But +come, recollected she, how do I know but all is for the best--if I can +but make a right use of my discomforts?--Pray for me, Mrs. Lovick--pray +for me, Mrs. Smith, that I may--I have great need of your prayers.--This +cruel man has discomposed me. His persecutions have given me pain just +here, [putting her hand to her heart.] What a step has he made me take +to avoid him!--Who can touch pitch, and not be defiled? He had made a +bad spirit take possession of me, I think--broken in upon all my duties +--and will not yet, I doubt, let me be at rest. Indeed he is very cruel +--but this is one of my trials, I believe. By God's grace, I shall be +easier to-morrow, and especially if I have no more of his tormentings, +and if I can get a tolerable night. And I will sit up till eleven, that +I may. + +She said, that though this was so heavy a day with her, she was at other +times, within these few days past especially, blessed with bright hours; +and particularly that she had now and then such joyful assurances, (which +she hoped were not presumptuous ones,) that God would receive her to his +mercy, that she could hardly contain herself, and was ready to think +herself above this earth while she was in it: And what, inferred she to +Mrs. Lovick, must be the state itself, the very aspirations after which +have often cast a beamy light through the thickest darkness, and, when I +have been at the lowest ebb, have dispelled the black clouds of +despondency?--As I hope they soon will this spirit of repining. + +She had a pretty good night, it seems; and this morning went in a chair +to St. Dunstan's church. + +The chairmen told Mrs. Smith, that after prayers (for she did not return +till between nine and ten) they carried her to a house in Fleet-street, +whither they never waited on her before. And where dost think this was? +--Why to an undertaker's! Good Heaven! what a woman is this! She went +into the back shop, and talked with the master of it about half an hour, +and came from him with great serenity; he waiting upon her to her chair +with a respectful countenance, but full of curiosity and seriousness. + +'Tis evident that she went to bespeak her house that she talked of*--As +soon as you can, Sir, were her words to him as she got into the chair. +Mrs. Smith told me this with the same surprise and grief that I heard it. + + +* See Letter XXIII. of this volume. + + +She was very ill in the afternoon, having got cold either at St. +Dunstan's, or at chapel, and sent for the clergyman to pray by her; and +the women, unknown to her, sent both for Dr. H. and Mr. Goddard: who were +just gone, as I told you, when I came to pay my respects to her this +evening. + +And thus have I recounted from the good women what passed to this night +since my absence. + +I long for to-morrow, that I may see her: and yet it is such a melancholy +longing as I never experienced, and know not how to describe. + + +TUESDAY, AUG. 29. + +I was at Smith's at half an hour after seven. They told me that the lady +was gone in a chair to St. Dunstan's: but was better than she had been in +either of the two preceding days; and that she said she to Mrs. Lovick +and Mrs. Smith, as she went into the chair, I have a good deal to answer +for to you, my good friends, for my vapourish conversation of last night. + +If, Mrs. Lovick, said she, smiling, I have no new matters to discompose +me, I believe my spirits will hold out purely. + +She returned immediately after prayers. + +Mr. Belford, said she, as she entered the back shop where I was, (and +upon my approaching her,) I am very glad to see you. You have been +performing for your poor friend a kind last office. 'Tis not long ago +since you did the same for a near relation. Is it not a little hard upon +you, that these troubles should fall so thick to your lot? But they are +charitable offices: and it is a praise to your humanity, that poor dying +people know not where to choose so well. + +I told her I was sorry to hear she had been so ill since I had the honour +to attend her; but rejoiced to find that now she seemed a good deal +better. + +It will be sometimes better, and sometimes worse, replied she, with poor +creatures, when they are balancing between life and death. But no more +of these matters just now. I hope, Sir, you'll breakfast with me. I was +quite vapourish yesterday. I had a very bad spirit upon me. Had I not, +Mrs. Smith? But I hope I shall be no more so. And to-day I am perfectly +serene. This day rises upon me as if it would be a bright one. + +She desired me to walk up, and invited Mr. Smith and his wife, and Mrs. +Lovick also, to breakfast with her. I was better pleased with her +liveliness than with her looks. + +The good people retiring after breakfast, the following conversation +passed between us: + +Pray, Sir, let me ask you, if you think I may promise myself that I shall +be no more molested by your friend? + +I hesitated: For how could I answer for such a man? + +What shall I do, if he comes again?--You see how I am.--I cannot fly from +him now--If he has any pity left for the poor creature whom he has thus +reduced, let him not come.--But have you heard from him lately? And will +he come? + +I hope not, Madam. I have not heard from him since Thursday last, that +he went out of town, rejoicing in the hopes your letter gave him of a +reconciliation between your friends and you, and that he might in good +time see you at your father's; and he is gone down to give all his +friends joy of the news, and is in high spirits upon it. + +Alas! for me: I shall then surely have him come up to persecute me again! +As soon as he discovers that that was only a stratagem to keep him away, +he will come up, and who knows but even now he is upon the road? I +thought I was so bad that I should have been out of his and every body's +way before now; for I expected not that this contrivance would serve me +above two or three days; and by this time he must have found out that I +am not so happy as to have any hope of a reconciliation with my family; +and then he will come, if it be only in revenge for what he will think a +deceit, but is not, I hope, a wicked one. + +I believe I looked surprised to hear her confess that her letter was a +stratagem only; for she said, You wonder, Mr. Belford, I observe, that I +could be guilty of such an artifice. I doubt it is not right: it was +done in a hurry of spirits. How could I see a man who had so mortally +injured me; yet pretending a sorrow for his crimes, (and wanting to see +me,) could behave with so much shocking levity, as he did to the honest +people of the house? Yet, 'tis strange too, that neither you nor he +found out my meaning on perusal of my letter. You have seen what I +wrote, no doubt? + +I have, Madam. And then I began to account for it, as an innocent +artifice. + +Thus far indeed, Sir, it is an innocent, that I meant him no hurt, and +had a right to the effect I hoped for from it; and he had none to invade +me. But have you, Sir, that letter of his in which he gives you (as I +suppose he does) the copy of mine? + +I have, Madam. And pulled it out of my letter-case. But hesitating-- +Nay, Sir, said she, be pleased to read my letter to yourself--I desire +not to see his--and see if you can be longer a stranger to a meaning so +obvious. + +I read it to myself--Indeed, Madam, I can find nothing but that you are +going down to Harlowe-place to be reconciled to your father and other +friends: and Mr. Lovelace presumed that a letter from your sister, which +he saw brought when he was at Mr. Smith's, gave you the welcome news of +it. + +She then explained all to me, and that, as I may say, in six words--A +religious meaning is couched under it, and that's the reason that neither +you nor I could find it out. + +'Read but for my father's house, Heaven, said she, and for the +interposition of my dear blessed friend, suppose the mediation of my +Saviour (which I humbly rely upon); and all the rest of the letter will +be accounted for.' I hope (repeated she) that it is a pardonable +artifice. But I am afraid it is not strictly right. + +I read it so, and stood astonished for a minute at her invention, her +piety, her charity, and at thine and mine own stupidity to be thus taken +in. + +And now, thou vile Lovelace, what hast thou to do (the lady all +consistent with herself, and no hopes left for thee) but to hang, drown, +or shoot thyself, for an outwitted boaster? + +My surprise being a little over, she proceeded: As to the letter that +came from my sister while your friend was here, you will soon see, Sir, +that it is the cruellest letter she ever wrote me. + +And then she expressed a deep concern for what might be the consequence +of Colonel Morden's intended visit to you; and besought me, that if now, +or at any time hereafter, I had opportunity to prevent any further +mischief, without detriment or danger to myself, I would do it. + +I assured her of the most particular attention to this and to all her +commands; and that in a manner so agreeable to her, that she invoked a +blessing upon me for my goodness, as she called it, to a desolate +creature who suffered under the worst of orphanage; those were her words. + +She then went back to her first subject, her uneasiness for fear of your +molesting her again; and said, If you have any influence over him, Mr. +Belford, prevail upon him that he will give me the assurance that the +short remainder of my time shall be all my own. I have need of it. +Indeed I have. Why will he wish to interrupt me in my duty? Has he not +punished me enough for my preference of him to all his sex? Has he not +destroyed my fame and my fortune? And will not his causeless vengeance +upon me be complete, unless he ruin my soul too?--Excuse me, Sir, for +this vehemence! But indeed it greatly imports me to know that I shall be +no more disturbed by him. And yet, with all this aversion, I would +sooner give way to his visit, though I were to expire the moment I saw +him, than to be the cause of any fatal misunderstanding between you and +him. + +I assured her that I would make such a representation of the matter to +you, and of the state of her health, that I would undertake to answer for +you, that you would not attempt to come near her. + +And for this reason, Lovelace, do I lay the whole matter before you, and +desire you will authorize me, as soon as this and mine of Saturday last +come to your hands, to dissipate her fears. + +This gave her a little satisfaction; and then she said that had I not +told her that I could promise for you, she was determined, ill as she is, +to remove somewhere out of my knowledge as well as out of your's. And +yet, to have been obliged to leave people I am but just got acquainted +with, said the poor lady, and to have died among perfect strangers, would +have completed my hardships. + +This conversation, I found, as well from the length as the nature of it, +had fatigued her; and seeing her change colour once or twice, I made that +my excuse, and took leave of her: desiring her permission, however, to +attend her in the evening; and as often as possible; for I could not help +telling her that, every time I saw her, I more and more considered her as +a beatified spirit; and as one sent from Heaven to draw me after her out +of the miry gulf in which I had been so long immersed. + +And laugh at me if thou wilt; but it is true that, every time I approach +her, I cannot but look upon her as one just entering into a companionship +with saints and angels. This thought so wholly possessed me, that I +could not help begging, as I went away, her prayers and her blessing, +with the reverence due to an angel. + +In the evening, she was so low and weak, that I took my leave of her in +less than a quarter of an hour. I went directly home. Where, to the +pleasure and wonder of my cousin and her family, I now pass many honest +evenings: which they impute to your being out of town. + +I shall dispatch my packet to-morrow morning early by my own servant, to +make thee amends for the suspense I must have kept thee in: thou'lt thank +me for that, I hope; but wilt not, I am sure, for sending thy servant +back without a letter. + +I long for the particulars of the conversation between you and Mr. +Morden; the lady, as I have hinted, is full of apprehensions about it. +Send me back this packet when perused; for I have not had either time or +patience to take a copy of it. And I beseech you enable me to make good +my engagements to the poor lady that you will not invade her again. + + + +LETTER XXXVIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY, AUG. 30. + + +I have a conversation to give you that passed between this admirable lady +and Dr. H. which will furnish a new instance of the calmness and serenity +with which she can talk of death, and prepare for it, as if it were an +occurrence as familiar to her as dressing and undressing. + +As soon as I had dispatched my servant to you with my letters of the +26th, 28th, and yesterday the 29th, I went to pay my duty to her, and had +the pleasure to find her, after a tolerable night, pretty lively and +cheerful. She was but just returned from her usual devotions; and Doctor +H. alighted as she entered the door. + +After inquiring how she did, and hearing her complaints of shortness of +breath, (which she attributed to inward decay, precipitated by her late +harasses, as well from her friends as from you,) he was for advising her +to go into the air. + +What will that do for me? said she: tell me truly, good Sir, with a +cheerful aspect, (you know you cannot disturb me by it,) whether now you +do not put on the true physician; and despairing that any thing in +medicine will help me, advise me to the air, as the last resource?--Can +you think the air will avail in such a malady as mine? + +He was silent. + +I ask, said she, because my friends (who will possibly some time hence +inquire after the means I used for my recovery) may be satisfied that I +omitted nothing which so worthy and skilful a physician prescribed? + +The air, Madam, may possibly help the difficulty of breathing, which has +so lately attacked you. + +But, Sir, you see how weak I am. You must see that I have been consuming +from day to day; and now, if I can judge by what I feel in myself, +putting her hand to her heart, I cannot continue long. If the air would +very probably add to my days, though I am far from being desirous to have +them lengthened, I would go into it; and the rather, as I know Mrs. +Lovick would kindly accompany me. But if I were to be at the trouble of +removing into new lodgings, (a trouble which I think now would be too +much for me,) and this only to die in the country, I had rather the scene +were to shut up here. For here have I meditated the spot, and the +manner, and every thing, as well of the minutest as of the highest +consequence, that can attend the solemn moments. So, Doctor, tell me +truly, may I stay here, and be clear of any imputations of curtailing, +through wilfulness or impatiency, or through resentments which I hope I +am got above, a life that might otherwise be prolonged?--Tell me, Sir; +you are not talking to a coward in this respect; indeed you are not!-- +Unaffectedly smiling. + +The doctor, turning to me, was at a loss what to say, lifting up his eyes +only in admiration of her. + +Never had any patient, said she, a more indulgent and more humane +physician. But since you are loth to answer my question directly, I will +put it in other words--You don't enjoin me to go into the air, Doctor, do +you? + +I do not, Madam. Nor do I now visit you as a physician; but as a person +whose conversation I admire, and whose sufferings I condole. And, to +explain myself more directly, as to the occasion of this day's visit in +particular, I must tell you, Madam, that, understanding how much you +suffer by the displeasure of your friends; and having no doubt but that, +if they knew the way you are in, they would alter their conduct to you; +and believing it must cut them to the heart, when too late, they shall be +informed of every thing; I have resolved to apprize them by letter +(stranger as I am to their persons) how necessary it is for some of them +to attend you very speedily. For their sakes, Madam, let me press for +your approbation of this measure. + +She paused; and at last said, This is kind, very kind, in you, Sir. But +I hope that you do not think me so perverse, and so obstinate, as to have +left till now any means unessayed which I thought likely to move my +friends in my favour. But now, Doctor, said she, I should be too much +disturbed at their grief, if they were any of them to come or to send to +me: and perhaps, if I found they still loved me, wish to live; and so +should quit unwillingly that life, which I am now really fond of +quitting, and hope to quit as becomes a person who has had such a +weaning-time as I have been favoured with. + +I hope, Madam, said I, we are not so near as you apprehend to that +deplorable catastrophe you hint at with such an amazing presence of mind. +And therefore I presume to second the doctor's motion, if it were only +for the sake of your father and mother, that they may have the +satisfaction, if they must lose you, to think they were first reconciled +to you. + +It is very kindly, very humanely considered, said she. But, if you think +me not so very near my last hour, let me desire this may be postponed +till I see what effect my cousin Morden's mediation may have. Perhaps he +may vouchsafe to make me a visit yet, after his intended interview with +Mr. Lovelace is over; of which, who knows, Mr. Belford, but your next +letters may give an account? I hope it will not be a fatal one to any +body. Will you promise me, Doctor, to forbear writing for two days only, +and I will communicate to you any thing that occurs in that time; and then +you shall take your own way? Mean time, I repeat my thanks for your +goodness to me.--Nay, dear Doctor, hurry not away from me so +precipitately [for he was going, for fear of an offered fee]: I will no +more affront you with tenders that have pained you for some time past: +and since I must now, from this kindly-offered favour, look upon you only +as a friend, I will assure you henceforth that I will give you no more +uneasiness on that head: and now, Sir, I know I shall have the pleasure +of seeing you oftener than heretofore. + +The worthy gentleman was pleased with this assurance, telling her that he +had always come to see her with great pleasure, but parted with her, on +the account she hinted at, with as much pain; and that he should not have +forborne to double his visits, could he have had this kind assurance as +early as he wished for it. + +There are few instances of like disinterestedness, I doubt, in this +tribe. Till now I always held it for gospel, that friendship and +physician were incompatible things; and little imagined that a man of +medicine, when he had given over his patient to death, would think of any +visits but those of ceremony, that he might stand well with the family, +against it came to their turns to go through his turnpike. + +After the doctor was gone, she fell into a very serious discourse of the +vanity of life, and the wisdom of preparing for death, while health and +strength remained, and before the infirmities of body impaired the +faculties of the mind, and disabled them from acting with the necessary +efficacy and clearness: the whole calculated for every one's meridian, +but particularly, as it was easy to observe, for thine and mine. + +She was very curious to know farther particulars of the behaviour of poor +Belton in his last moments. You must not wonder at my inquiries, Mr. +Belford, said she; For who is it, that is to undertake a journey into a +country they never travelled to before, that inquires not into the +difficulties of the road, and what accommodations are to be expected in +the way? + +I gave her a brief account of the poor man's terrors, and unwillingness +to die: and, when I had done, Thus, Mr. Belford, said she, must it always +be with poor souls who have never thought of their long voyage till the +moment they are to embark for it. + +She made other such observations upon this subject as, coming from the +mouth of a person who will so soon be a companion for angels, I shall +never forget. And indeed, when I went home, that I might engraft them +the better on my memory, I entered them down in writing: but I will not +let you see them until you are in a frame more proper to benefit by them +than you are likely to be in one while. + +Thus far had I written, when the unexpected early return of my servant +with your packet (your's and he meeting at Slough, and exchanging +letters) obliged me to leave off to give its contents a reading.--Here, +therefore, I close this letter. + + + +LETTER XXXIX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +TUESDAY MORN. AUG. 29. + + +Now, Jack, will I give thee an account of what passed on occasion of the +visit made us by Col. Morden. + +He came on horseback, attended by one servant; and Lord M. received him +as a relation of Miss Harlowe's with the highest marks of civility and +respect. + +After some general talk of the times, and of the weather, and such +nonsense as Englishmen generally make their introductory topics to +conversation, the Colonel addressed himself to Lord M. and to me, as +follows: + +I need not, my Lord, and Mr. Lovelace, as you know the relation I bear to +the Harlowe family, make any apology for entering upon a subject, which, +on account of that relation, you must think is the principal reason of +the honour I have done myself in this visit. + +Miss Harlowe, Miss Clarissa Harlowe's affair, said Lord M. with his usual +forward bluntness. That, Sir, is what you mean. She is, by all +accounts, the most excellent woman in the world. + +I am glad to hear that is your Lordship's opinion of her. It is every +one's. + +It is not only my opinion, Col. Morden (proceeded the prating Peer), but +it is the opinion of all my family. Of my sisters, of my nieces, and of +Mr. Lovelace himself. + +Col. Would to Heaven it had been always Mr. Lovelace's opinion of her! + +Lovel. You have been out of England, Colonel, a good many years. +Perhaps you are not yet fully apprized of all the particulars of this +case. + +Col. I have been out of England, Sir, about seven years. My cousin +Clary was then about 12 years of age: but never was there at twenty so +discreet, so prudent, and so excellent a creature. All that knew her, or +saw her, admired her. Mind and person, never did I see such promises of +perfection in any young lady: and I am told, nor is it to be wondered at, +that, as she advanced to maturity, she more than justified and made good +those promises.--Then as to fortune--what her father, what her uncles, +and what I myself, intended to do for her, besides what her grandfather +had done--there is not a finer fortune in the country. + +Lovel. All this, Colonel, and more than this, is Miss Clarissa Harlowe; +and had it not been for the implacableness and violence of her family +(all resolved to push her upon a match as unworthy of her as hateful to +her) she had still been happy. + +Col. I own, Mr. Lovelace, the truth of what you observed just now, that +I am not thoroughly acquainted with all that has passed between you and +my cousin. But permit me to say, that when I first heard that you made +your addresses to her, I knew but of one objection against you; that, +indeed, a very great one: and upon a letter sent me, I gave her my free +opinion upon that subject.* But had it not been for that, I own, that, +in my private mind, there could not have been a more suitable match: for +you are a gallant gentleman, graceful in your person, easy and genteel in +your deportment, and in your family, fortunes, and expectations, happy as +a man can wish to be. Then the knowledge I had of you in Italy +(although, give me leave to say, your conduct there was not wholly +unexceptionable) convinces me that you are brave: and few gentlemen come +up to you in wit and vivacity. Your education has given you great +advantages; your manners are engaging, and you have travelled; and I +know, if you'll excuse me, you make better observations than you are +governed by. All these qualifications make it not at all surprising that +a young lady should love you: and that this love, joined to that +indiscreet warmth wherewith my cousin's friends would have forced her +inclinations in favour of men who are far your inferiors in the qualities +I have named, should throw herself upon your protection. But then, if +there were these two strong motives, the one to induce, the other to +impel, her, let me ask you, Sir, if she were not doubly entitled to +generous usage from a man whom she chose for her protector; and whom, let +me take the liberty to say, she could so amply reward for the protection +he was to afford her? + + +* See Vol. IV. Letter XIX. + + +Lovel. Miss Clarissa Harlowe was entitled, Sir, to have the best usage +that man could give her. I have no scruple to own it. I will always do +her the justice she so well deserves. I know what will be your inference; +and have only to say, that time past cannot be recalled; perhaps I wish +it could. + +The Colonel then, in a very manly strain, set forth the wickedness of +attempting a woman of virtue and character. He said, that men had +generally too many advantages from the weakness, credulity, and +inexperience of the fair sex: that their early learning, which chiefly +consisted in inflaming novels, and idle and improbable romances, +contributed to enervate and weaken their minds: that his cousin, however, +he was sure, was above the reach of common seduction, and not to be +influenced to the rashness her parents accused her of, by weaker motives +than their violence, and the most solemn promises on my part: but, +nevertheless, having those motives, and her prudence (eminent as it was) +being rather the effect of constitution than experience, (a fine +advantage, however, he said, to ground an unblamable future life upon,) +she might not be apprehensive of bad designs in a man she loved: it was, +therefore, a very heinous thing to abuse the confidence of such a woman. + +He was going on in this trite manner; when, interrupting him, I said, +These general observations, Colonel, suit not perhaps this particular +case. But you yourself are a man of gallantry; and, possibly, were you +to be put to the question, might not be able to vindicate every action of +your life, any more than I. + +Col. You are welcome, Sir, to put what questions you please to me. +And, I thank God, I can both own and be ashamed of my errors. + +Lord M. looked at me; but as the Colonel did not by his manner seem to +intend a reflection, I had no occasion to take it for one; especially as +I can as readily own my errors, as he, or any man, can his, whether +ashamed of them or not. + +He proceeded. As you seem to call upon me, Mr. Lovelace, I will tell you +(without boasting of it) what has been my general practice, till lately, +that I hope I have reformed it a good deal. + +I have taken liberties, which the laws of morality will by no means +justify; and once I should have thought myself warranted to cut the +throat of any young fellow who should make as free with a sister of mine +as I have made with the sisters and daughters of others. But then I took +care never to promise any thing I intended not to perform. A modest ear +should as soon have heard downright obscenity from my lips, as matrimony, +if I had not intended it. Young ladies are generally ready enough to +believe we mean honourably, if they love us; and it would look lie a +strange affront to their virtue and charms, that it should be supposed +needful to put the question whether in your address you mean a wife. But +when once a man make a promise, I think it ought to be performed; and a +woman is well warranted to appeal to every one against the perfidy of a +deceiver; and is always sure to have the world on her side. + +Now, Sir, continued he, I believe you have so much honour as to own, that +you could not have made way to so eminent a virtue, without promising +marriage; and that very explicitly and solemnly-- + +I know very well, Colonel, interrupted I, all you would say. You will +excuse me, I am sure, that I break in upon you, when you find it is to +answer the end you drive at. + +I own to you then that I have acted very unworthily by Miss Clarissa +Harlowe; and I'll tell you farther, that I heartily repent of my +ingratitude and baseness to her. Nay, I will say still farther, that I +am so grossly culpable as to her, that even to plead that the abuses and +affronts I daily received from her implacable relations were in any +manner a provocation to me to act vilely by her, would be a mean and low +attempt to excuse myself--so low and so mean, that it would doubly +condemn me. And if you can say worse, speak it. + +He looked upon Lord M. and then upon me, two or three times. And my Lord +said, My kinsman speaks what he thinks, I'll answer for him. + +Lovel. I do, Sir; and what can I say more? And what farther, in your +opinion, can be done? + +Col. Done! Sir? Why, Sir, [in a haughty tone he spoke,] I need not +tell you that reparation follows repentance. And I hope you make no +scruple of justifying your sincerity as to the one or the other. + +I hesitated, (for I relished not the manner of his speech, and his +haughty accent,) as undetermined whether to take proper notice of it or +not. + +Col. Let me put this question to you, Mr. Lovelace: Is it true, as I +have heard it is, that you would marry my cousin, if she would have you? +--What say you, Sir?-- + +This wound me up a peg higher. + +Lovel. Some questions, as they may be put, imply commands, Colonel. I +would be glad to know how I am to take your's? And what is to be the end +of your interrogatories? + +Col. My questions are not meant by me as commands, Mr. Lovelace. The +end is, to prevail upon a gentleman to act like a gentleman, and a man of +honour. + +Lovel. (briskly) And by what arguments, Sir, do you propose to prevail +upon me? + +Col. By what arguments, Sir, prevail upon a gentleman to act like a +gentleman!--I am surprised at that question from Mr. Lovelace. + +Lovel. Why so, Sir? + +Col. WHY so, Sir! (angrily)--Let me-- + +Lovel. (interrupting) I don't choose, Colonel, to be repeated upon, in +that accent. + +Lord M. Come, come, gentlemen, I beg of you to be willing to understand +one another. You young gentlemen are so warm-- + +Col. Not I, my Lord--I am neither very young, nor unduly warm. Your +nephew, my Lord, can make me be every thing he would have me to be. + +Lovel. And that shall be, whatever you please to be, Colonel. + +Col. (fiercely) The choice be your's, Mr. Lovelace. Friend or foe! as +you do or are willing to do justice to one of the finest women in the +world. + +Lord M. I guessed, from both your characters, what would be the case +when you met. Let me interpose, gentlemen, and beg you but to understand +one another. You both shoot at one mark; and, if you are patient, will +both hit it. Let me beg of you, Colonel, to give no challenges-- + +Col. Challenges, my Lord!--They are things I ever was readier to accept +than to offer. But does your Lordship think that a man, so nearly +related as I have the honour to be to the most accomplished woman on +earth,-- + +Lord M. (interrupting) We all allow the excellencies of the lady--and +we shall all take it as the greatest honour to be allied to her that can +be conferred upon us. + +Col. So you ought, my Lord!-- + +A perfect Chamont; thought I.* + + +* See Otway's Orphan. + + +Lord M. So we ought, Colonel! and so we do!--and pray let every one do +as he ought!--and no more than he ought; and you, Colonel, let me tell +you, will not be so hasty. + +Lovel. (coolly) Come, come, Col. Morden, don't let this dispute, whatever +you intend to make of it, go farther than with you and me. You +deliver yourself in very high terms. Higher than ever I was talked to in +my life. But here, beneath this roof, 'twould be inexcusable for me to +take that notice of it which, perhaps, it would become me to take +elsewhere. + +Col. That is spoken as I wish the man to speak whom I should be pleased +to call my friend, if all his actions were of a piece; and as I would +have the man speak whom I would think it worth my while to call my foe. +I love a man of spirit, as I love my soul. But, Mr. Lovelace, as my Lord +thinks we aim at one mark, let me say, that were we permitted to be alone +for six minutes, I dare say, we should soon understand one another +perfectly well.--And he moved to the door. + +Lovel. I am entirely of your opinion, Sir; and will attend you. + +My Lord rung, and stept between us: Colonel, return, I beseech you +return, said he: for he had stept out of the room while my Lord held me-- +Nephew, you shall not go out. + +The bell and my Lord's raised voice brought in Mowbray, and Clements, my +Lord's gentleman; the former in his careless way, with his hands behind +him, What's the matter, Bobby? What's the matter, my Lord? + +Only, only, only, stammered the agitated peer, these young gentlemen are, +are, are--are young gentlemen, that's all.--Pray, Colonel Morden, [who +again entered the room with a sedater aspect,] let this cause have a fair +trial, I beseech you. + +Col. With all my heart, my Lord. + +Mowbray whispered me, What is the cause, Bobby?--Shall I take the +gentleman to task for thee, my boy? + +Not for the world, whispered I. The Colonel is a gentleman, and I desire +you'll not say one word. + +Well, well, well, Bobby, I have done. I can turn thee loose to the best +man upon God's earth; that's all, Bobby; strutting off to the other end +of the room. + +Col. I am sorry, my Lord, I should give your Lordship the least +uneasiness. I came not with such a design. + +Lord M. Indeed, Colonel, I thought you did, by your taking fire so +quickly. I am glad to hear you say you did not. How soon a little spark +kindles into a flame; especially when it meets with such combustible +spirits! + +Col. If I had had the least thought of proceeding to extremities, I am +sure Mr. Lovelace would have given me the honour of a meeting where I +should have been less an intruder: but I came with an amicable intention; +to reconcile differences rather than to widen them. + +Lovel. Well then, Colonel Morden, let us enter upon the subject in your +own way. I don't know the man I should sooner choose to be upon terms +with than one whom Miss Clarissa Harlowe so much respects. But I cannot +bear to be treated, either in word or accent, in a menacing way. + +Lord M. Well, well, well, well, gentlemen, this is somewhat like. +Angry men make to themselves beds of nettles, and, when they lie down in +them, are uneasy with every body. But I hope you are friends. Let me +hear you say you are. I am persuaded, Colonel, that you don't know all +this unhappy story. You don't know how desirous my kinsman is, as well +as all of us, to have this matter end happily. You don't know, do you, +Colonel, that Mr. Lovelace, at all our requests, is disposed to marry the +lady? + +Col. At all your requests, my Lord?--I should have hoped that Mr. +Lovelace was disposed to do justice for the sake of justice; and when at +the same time the doing of justice was doing himself the highest honour. + +Mowbray lifted up his before half-closed eyes to the Colonel, and glanced +them upon me. + +Lovel. This is in very high language, Colonel. + +Mowbr. By my soul, I thought so. + +Col. High language, Mr. Lovelace? Is it not just language? + +Lovel. It is, Colonel. And I think, the man that does honour to Miss +Clarissa Harlowe, does me honour. But, nevertheless, there is a manner +in speaking, that may be liable to exception, where the words, without +that manner, can bear none. + +Col. Your observation in the general is undoubtedly just: but, if you +have the value for my cousin that you say you have, you must needs think +-- + +Lovel. You must allow me, Sir, to interrupt you--IF I have the value I +say I have--I hope, Sir, when I say I have that value, there is no room +for that if, pronounced as you pronounced it with an emphasis. + +Col. You have broken in upon me twice, Mr. Lovelace. I am as little +accustomed to be broken in upon, as you are to be repeated upon. + +Lord M. Two barrels of gunpowder, by my conscience! What a devil will +it signify talking, if thus you are to blow one another up at every word? + +Lovel. No man of honour, my Lord, will be easy to have his veracity +called into question, though but by implication. + +Col. Had you heard me out, Mr. Lovelace, you would have found, that my +if was rather an if of inference, than of doubt. But 'tis, really a +strange liberty gentlemen of free principles take; who at the same time +that they would resent unto death the imputation of being capable of +telling an untruth to a man, will not scruple to break through the most +solemn oaths and promises to a woman. I must assure you, Mr. Lovelace, +that I always made a conscience of my vows and promises. + +Lovel. You did right, Colonel. But let me tell you, Sir, that you know +not the man you talk to, if you imagine he is not able to rise to a +proper resentment, when he sees his generous confessions taken for a mark +of base-spiritedness. + +Col. (warmly, and with a sneer,) Far be it from me, Mr. Lovelace, to +impute to you the baseness of spirit you speak of; for what would that be +but to imagine that a man, who has done a very flagrant injury, is not +ready to show his bravery in defending it-- + +Mowbr. This is d----d severe, Colonel. It is, by Jove. I could not +take so much at the hands of any man breathing as Mr. Lovelace before +this took at your's. + +Col. Who are you, Sir? What pretence have you to interpose in a cause +where there is an acknowledged guilt on one side, and the honour of a +considerable family wounded in the tenderest part by that guilt on the +other? + +Mowbr. (whispering to the Colonel) My dear child, you will oblige me +highly if you will give me the opportunity of answering your question. +And was going out. + +The Colonel was held in by my Lord. And I brought in Mowbray. + +Col. Pray, my good Lord, let me attend this officious gentleman, I +beseech you do. I will wait upon your Lordship in three minutes, depend +upon it. + +Lovel. Mowbray, is this acting like a friend by me, to suppose me +incapable of answering for myself? And shall a man of honour and +bravery, as I know Colonel Morden to be, (rash as perhaps in this visit +he has shown himself,) have it to say, that he comes to my Lord M.'s +house, in a manner naked as to attendants and friends, and shall not for +that reason be rather borne with than insulted? This moment, my dear +Mowbray, leave us. You have really no concern in this business; and if +you are my friend, I desire you'll ask the Colonel pardon for interfering +in it in the manner you have done. + +Mowbr. Well, well, Bob.; thou shalt be arbiter in this matter; I know I +have no business in it--and, Colonel, (holding out his hand,) I leave you +to one who knows how to defend his own cause as well as any man in +England. + +Col. (taking Mowbray's hand, at Lord M.'s request,) You need not tell +me that, Mr. Mowbray. I have no doubt of Mr. Lovelace's ability to +defend his own cause, were it a cause to be defended. And let me tell +you, Mr. Lovelace, that I am astonished to think that a brave man, and a +generous man, as you have appeared to be in two or three instances that +you have given in the little knowledge I have of you, should be capable +of acting as you have done by the most excellent of her sex. + +Lord M. Well, but, gentlemen, now Mr. Mowbray is gone, and you have +both shown instances of courage and generosity to boot, let me desire you +to lay your heads together amicably, and think whether there be any thing +to be done to make all end happily for the lady? + +Lovel. But hold, my Lord, let me say one thing, now Mowbray is gone; +and that is, that I think a gentleman ought not to put up tamely one or +two severe things that the Colonel has said. + +Lord M. What the devil canst thou mean? I thought all had been over. +Why thou hast nothing to do but to confirm to the Colonel that thou art +willing to marry Miss Harlowe, if she will have thee. + +Col. Mr. Lovelace will not scruple to say that, I suppose, +notwithstanding all that has passed: but if you think, Mr. Lovelace, I +have said any thing I should not have said, I suppose it is this, that +the man who has shown so little of the thing honour, to a defenceless +unprotected woman, ought not to stand so nicely upon the empty name of +it, with a man who is expostulating with him upon it. I am sorry to have +cause to say this, Mr. Lovelace; but I would, on the same occasion, +repeat it to a king upon his throne, and surrounded by all his guards. + +Lord M. But what is all this, but more sacks upon the mill? more coals +upon the fire? You have a mind to quarrel both of you, I see that. Are +you not willing, Nephew, are you not most willing, to marry this lady, if +she can be prevailed upon to have you? + +Lovel. D--n me, my Lord, if I'd marry my empress upon such treatment +as this. + +Lord M. Why now, Bob., thou art more choleric than the Colonel. It was +his turn just now. And now you see he is cool, you are all gunpowder. + +Lovel. I own the Colonel has many advantages over me; but, perhaps, +there is one advantage he has not, if it were put to the trial. + +Col. I came not hither, as I said before, to seek the occasion: but if +it were offered me, I won't refuse it--and since we find we disturb my +good Lord M. I'll take my leave, and will go home by the way of St. +Alban's. + +Lovel. I'll see you part of the way, with all my heart, Colonel. + +Col. I accept your civility very cheerfully, Mr. Lovelace. + +Lord M. (interposing again, as we were both for going out,) And what +will this do, gentlemen? Suppose you kill one another, will the matter +be bettered or worsted by that? Will the lady be made happier or +unhappier, do you think, by either or both of your deaths? Your +characters are too well known to make fresh instances of the courage of +either needful. And, I think, if the honour of the lady is your view, +Colonel, it can by no other way so effectually promoted as by marriage. +And, Sir, if you would use your interest with her, it is very probable +that you may succeed, though nobody else can. + +Lovel. I think, my Lord, I have said all that a man can say, (since +what is passed cannot be recalled:) and you see Colonel Morden rises in +proportion to my coolness, till it is necessary for me to assert myself, +or even he would despise me. + +Lord M. Let me ask you, Colonel, have you any way, any method, that you +think reasonable and honourable to propose, to bring about a +reconciliation with the lady? That is what we all wish for. And I can +tell you, Sir, it is not a little owing to her family, and to their +implacable usage of her, that her resentments are heightened against my +kinsman; who, however, has used her vilely; but is willing to repair her +wrongs.-- + +Lovel. Not, my Lord, for the sake of her family; nor for this +gentleman's haughty behaviour; but for her own sake, and in full sense of +the wrongs I have done her. + +Col. As to my haughty behaviour, as you call it, Sir, I am mistaken if +you would not have gone beyond it in the like case of a relation so +meritorious, and so unworthily injured. And, Sir, let me tell you, that +if your motives are not love, honour, and justice, and if they have the +least tincture of mean compassion for her, or of an uncheerful assent on +your part, I am sure it will neither be desired or accepted by a person +of my cousin's merit and sense; nor shall I wish that it should. + +Lovel. Don't think, Colonel, that I am meanly compounding off a debate, +that I should as willingly go through with you as to eat or drink, if I +have the occasion given me for it: but thus much I will tell you, that my +Lord, that Lady Sarah Sadleir, Lady Betty Lawrance, my two cousins +Montague, and myself, have written to her in the most solemn and sincere +manner, to offer her such terms as no one but herself would refuse, and +this long enough before Colonel Morden's arrival was dreamt of. + +Col. What reason, Sir, may I ask, does she give, against listening to +so powerful a mediation, and to such offers? + +Lovel. It looks like capitulating, or else-- + +Col. It looks not like any such thing to me, Mr. Lovelace, who have as +good an opinion of your spirit as man can have. And what, pray, is the +part I act, and my motives for it? Are they not, in desiring that +justice may be done to my Cousin Clarissa Harlowe, that I seek to +establish the honour of Mrs. Lovelace, if matters can once be brought to +bear? + +Lovel. Were she to honour me with her acceptance of that name, Mr. +Morden, I should not want you or any man to assert the honour of Mrs. +Lovelace. + +Col. I believe it. But still she has honoured you with that +acceptance, she is nearer to me than to you, Mr. Lovelace. And I speak +this, only to show you that, in the part I take, I mean rather to deserve +your thanks than your displeasure, though against yourself, were there +occasion. Nor ought you take it amiss, if you rightly weigh the matter: +For, Sir, whom does a lady want protection against but her injurers? And +who has been her greatest injurer?--Till, therefore, she becomes entitled +to your protection, as your wife, you yourself cannot refuse me some +merit in wishing to have justice done my cousin. But, Sir, you were +going to say, that if it were not to look like capitulating, you would +hint the reasons my cousin gives against accepting such an honourable +mediation? + +I then told him of my sincere offers of marriage: 'I made no difficulty, +I said, to own my apprehensions, that my unhappy behaviour to her had +greatly affected her: but that it was the implacableness of her friends +that had thrown her into despair, and given her a contempt for life.' I +told him, 'that she had been so good as to send me a letter to divert me +from a visit my heart was set upon making her: a letter on which I built +great hopes, because she assured me that in it she was going to her +father's; and that I might see her there, when she was received, if it +were not my own fault. + +Col. Is it possible? And were you, Sir, thus earnest? And did she +send you such a letter? + +Lord M. confirmed both; and also, that, in obedience to her desires, and +that intimation, I had come down without the satisfaction I had proposed +to myself in seeing her. + +It is very true, Colonel, said I: and I should have told you this before: +but your heat made me decline it; for, as I said, it had an appearance of +meanly capitulating with you. An abjectness of heart, of which, had I +been capable, I should have despised myself as much as I might have +expected you would despise me. + +Lord M. proposed to enter into the proof of all this. He said, in his +phraseological way, That one story was good till another was heard; and +that the Harlowe family and I, 'twas true, had behaved like so many +Orsons to one another; and that they had been very free with all our +family besides: that nevertheless, for the lady's sake, more than for +their's, or even for mine, (he could tell me,) he would do greater things +for me than they could ask, if she could be brought to have me: and that +this he wanted to declare, and would sooner have declared, if he could +have brought us sooner to patience, and a good understanding. + +The Colonel made excuses for his warmth, on the score of his affection to +his cousin. + +My regard for her made me readily admit them: and so a fresh bottle of +Burgundy, and another of Champagne, being put upon the table, we sat down +in good humour, after all this blustering, in order to enter closer into +the particulars of the case: which I undertook, at both their desires, to +do. + +But these things must be the subject of another letter, which shall +immediately follow this, if it do not accompany it. + +Mean time you will observe that a bad cause gives a man great +disadvantages: for I myself think that the interrogatories put to me with +so much spirit by the Colonel made me look cursedly mean; at the same +time that it gave him a superiority which I know not how to allow to the +best man in Europe. So that, literally speaking, as a good man would +infer, guilt is its own punisher: in that it makes the most lofty spirit +look like the miscreant he is--a good man, I say: So, Jack, proleptically +I add, thou hast no right to make the observation. + + + +LETTER XL + +MR. LOVELACE +[IN CONTINUATION.] +TUESDAY AFTERNOON, AUG. 29. + + +I went back, in this part of our conversation, to the day that I was +obliged to come down to attend my Lord in the dangerous illness which +some feared would have been his last. + +I told the Colonel, 'what earnest letters I had written to a particular +friend, to engage him to prevail upon the lady not to slip a day that had +been proposed for the private celebration of our nuptials; and of my +letters* written to her on that subject;' for I had stepped to my closet, +and fetched down all the letters and draughts and copies of letters +relating to this affair. + + +* See Vol. VI. Letters XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XLIII. + + +I read to him, 'several passages in the copies of those letters, which, +thou wilt remember, make not a little to my honour.' And I told him, +'that I wished I had kept copies of those to my friend on the same +occasion; by which he would have seen how much in earnest I was in my +professions to her, although she would not answer one of them;' and thou +mayest remember, that one of those four letters accounted to herself why +I was desirous she should remain where I had left her.* + + +* See Vol. VI. Letter XXXVII. + + +I then proceeded to give him an account 'of the visit made by Lady Sarah +and Lady Betty to Lord M. and me, in order to induce me to do her +justice: of my readiness to comply with their desires; and of their high +opinion of her merit: of the visit made to Miss Howe by my cousins +Montague, in the name of us all, to engage her interest with her friend +in my behalf: of my conversation with Miss Howe, at a private assembly, +to whom I gave the same assurances, and besought her interest with her +friend.' + +I then read a copy of the letter (though so much to my disadvantage) +which was written to her by Miss Charlotte Montague, Aug. 1,* entreating +her alliance in the names of all our family. + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXVI. + + +This made him ready to think that his fair cousin carried her resentment +against me too far. He did not imagine, he said, that either myself or +our family had been so much in earnest. + +So thou seest, Belford, that it is but glossing over one part of a story, +and omitting another, that will make a bad cause a good one at any time. +What an admirable lawyer should I have made! And what a poor hand would +this charming creature, with all her innocence, have made of it in a +court of justice against a man who had so much to say and to show for +himself! + +I then hinted at the generous annual tender which Lord M. and his sisters +made to his fair cousin, in apprehension that she might suffer by her +friends' implacableness. + +And this also the Colonel highly applauded, and was pleased to lament the +unhappy misunderstanding between the two families, which had made the +Harlowes less fond of an alliance with a family of so much honour as this +instance showed ours to be. + +I then told him, 'That having, by my friend, [meaning thee,] who was +admitted into her presence, (and who had always been an admirer of her +virtues, and had given me such advice from time to time in relation to +her as I wished I had followed,) been assured that a visit from me would +be very disagreeable to her, I once more resolved to try what a letter +would do; and that, accordingly, on the seventh of August, I wrote her +one. + +'This, Colonel, is the copy of it. I was then out of humour with my Lord +M. and the ladies of my family. You will, therefore, read it to +yourself.'* + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXIX. + + +This letter gave him high satisfaction. You write here, Mr. Lovelace, +from your heart. 'Tis a letter full of penitence and acknowledgement. +Your request is reasonable--To be forgiven only as you shall appear to +deserve it after a time of probation, which you leave to her to fix. +Pray, Sir, did she return an answer to this letter? + +She did, but with reluctance, I own, and not till I had declared by my +friend, that, if I could not procure one, I would go up to town, and +throw myself at her feet. + +I wish I might be permitted to see it, Sir, or to hear such parts of it +read as you shall think proper. + +Turning over my papers, Here it is, Sir.* I will make no scruple to put +it into your hands. + +This is very obliging, Mr. Lovelace. + +He read it. My charming cousin!--How strong her resentments!--Yet how +charitable her wishes!--Good Heaven! that such an excellent creature-- +But, Mr. Lovelace, it is to your regret, as much as to mine, I doubt not +-- + +Interrupting him, I swore that it was. + +So it ought, said he. Nor do I wonder that it should be so. I shall +tell you by-and-by, proceeded he, how much she suffers with her friends +by false and villanous reports. But, Sir, will you permit me to take +with me these two letters? I shall make use of them to the advantage of +you both. + +I told him I would oblige him with all my heart. And this he took very +kindly (as he had reason); and put them in his pocket-book, promising to +return hem in a few days. + +I then told him, 'That upon this her refusal, I took upon myself to go to +town, in hopes to move her in my favour; and that, though I went without +giving her notice of my intention, yet had she got some notion of my +coming, and so contrived to be out of the way: and at last, when she +found I was fully determined at all events to see her, before I went +abroad, (which I shall do, said I, if I cannot prevail upon her,) she +sent me the letter I have already mentioned to you, desiring me to +suspend my purposed visit: and that for a reason which amazes and +confounds me; because I don't find there is any thing in it: and yet I +never knew her once dispense with her word; for she always made it a +maxim, that it was not lawful to do evil, that good might come of it: and +yet in this letter, for no reason in the world but to avoid seeing me (to +gratify an humour only) has she sent me out of town, depending upon the +assurance she had given me.' + +Col. This is indeed surprising. But I cannot believe that my cousin, +for such an end only, or indeed for any end, according to the character I +hear of her, should stoop to make use of such an artifice. + +Lovel. This, Colonel, is the thing that astonishes me; and yet, see +here!--This is the letter she wrote me--Nay, Sir, 'tis her own hand. + +Col. I see it is; and a charming hand it is. + +Lovel. You observe, Colonel, that all her hopes of reconciliation with +her parents are from you. You are her dear blessed friend! She always +talked of you with delight. + +Col. Would to Heaven I had come to England before she left +Harlowe-place!--Nothing of this had then happened. Not a man of those +whom I have heard that her friends proposed for her should have had her. +Nor you, Mr. Lovelace, unless I had found you to be the man every one who +sees you must wish you to be: and if you had been that man, no one living +should I have preferred to you for such an excellence. + +My Lord and I both joined in the wish: and 'faith I wished it most +cordially. + +The Colonel read the letter twice over, and then returned it to me. 'Tis +all a mystery, said he. I can make nothing of it. For, alas! her +friends are as averse to a reconciliation as ever. + +Lord M. I could not have thought it. But don't you think there is +something very favourable to my nephew in this letter--something that +looks as if the lady would comply at last? + +Col. Let me die if I know what to make of it. This letter is very +different from her preceding one!--You returned an answer to it, Mr. +Lovelace? + +Lovel. An answer, Colonel! No doubt of it. And an answer full of +transport. I told her, 'I would directly set out for Lord M.'s, in +obedience to her will. I told her that I would consent to any thing she +should command, in order to promote this happy reconciliation. I told +her that it should be my hourly study, to the end of my life, to deserve +a goodness so transcendent.' But I cannot forbear saying that I am not a +little shocked and surprised, if nothing more be meant by it than to get +me into the country without seeing her. + +Col. That can't be the thing, depend upon it, Sir. There must be more +in it than that. For, were that all, she must think you would soon be +undeceived, and that you would then most probably resume your intention-- +unless, indeed, she depended upon seeing me in the interim, as she knew I +was arrived. But I own I know not what to make of it. Only that she +does me a great deal of honour, if it be me that she calls her dear +blessed friend, whom she always loved and honoured. Indeed I ever loved +her: and if I die unmarried, and without children, shall be as kind to +her as her grandfather was: and the rather, as I fear there is too much +of envy and self-love in the resentments her brother and sister endeavour +to keep up in her father and mother against her. But I shall know better +how to judge of this, when my cousin James comes from Edinburgh; and he +is every hour expected. + +But let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, what is the name of your friend, who is +admitted so easily into my cousin's presence? Is it not Belford, pray? + +Lovel. It is, Sir; and Mr. Belford's a man of honour; and a great +admirer of your fair cousin. + +Was I right, as to the first, Jack? The last I have such strong proof +of, that it makes me question the first; since she would not have been +out of the way of my intended visit but for thee. + +Col. Are you sure, Sir, that Mr. Belford is a man of honour? + +Lovel. I can swear for him, Colonel. What makes you put this question? + +Col. Only this: that an officious pragmatical novice has been sent up +to inquire into my cousin's life and conversation: And, would you believe +it? the frequent visits of this gentlemen have been interpreted basely to +her disreputation.--Read that letter, Mr. Lovelace; and you will be +shocked at ever part of it. + +This cursed letter, no doubt, is from the young Levite, whom thou, Jack, +describest as making inquiry of Mrs. Smith about Miss Harlowe's character +and visiters.* + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXXI. + + +I believe I was a quarter of an hour in reading it: for I made it, though +not a short one, six times as long as it is, by the additions of oaths +and curses to every pedantic line. Lord M. too helped to lengthen it, by +the like execrations. And thou, Jack, wilt have as much reason to curse +it as we. + +You cannot but see, said the Colonel, when I had done reading it, that +this fellow has been officious in his malevolence; for what he says is +mere hearsay, and that hearsay conjectural scandal without fact, or the +appearance of fact, to support it; so that an unprejudiced eye, upon the +face of the letter, would condemn the writer of it, as I did, and acquit +my cousin. But yet, such is the spirit by which the rest of my relations +are governed, that they run away with the belief of the worst it +insinuates, and the dear creature has had shocking letters upon it; the +pedant's hints are taken; and a voyage to one of the colonies has been +proposed to her, as the only way to avoid Mr. Belford and you. I have +not seen these letters indeed; but they took a pride in repeating some of +their contents, which must have cut the poor soul to the heart; and +these, joined to her former sufferings,--What have you not, Mr. Lovelace, +to answer for? + +Lovel. Who the devil could have expected such consequences as these? +Who could have believe there could be parents so implacable? Brother and +sister so immovably fixed against the only means that could be taken to +put all right with every body?--And what now can be done? + +Lord M. I have great hopes that Col. Morden may yet prevail upon his +cousin. And, by her last letter, it runs in my mind that she has some +thoughts of forgiving all that's past. Do you think, Colonel, if there +should not be such a thing as a reconciliation going forward at present, +that her letter may not imply that, if we could bring such a thing to +bear with her friends, she would be reconciled with Mr. Lovelace? + +Col. Such an artifice would better become the Italian subtilty than the +English simplicity. Your Lordship has been in Italy, I presume? + +Lovel. My Lord has read Boccaccio, perhaps; and that's as well, as to +the hint he gives, which may be borrowed from one of that author's +stories. But Miss Clarissa Harlowe is above all artifice. She must have +some meaning I cannot fathom. + +Col. Well, my Lord, I can only say that I will make some use of the +letters Mr. Lovelace has obliged me with: and after I have had some talk +with my cousin James, who is hourly expected; and when I have dispatched +two or three affairs that press upon me; I will pay my respects to my +dear cousin; and shall then be able to form a better judgment of things. +Mean time I will write to her; for I have sent to inquire about her, and +find she wants consolation. + +Lovel. If you favour me, Colonel, with the d----d letter of that fellow +Brand for a day or two, you will oblige me. + +Col. I will. But remember, the man is a parson, Mr. Lovelace; an +innocent one too, they say. Else I had been at him before now. And +these college novices, who think they know every thing in their +cloisters, and that all learning lies in books, make dismal figures when +they come into the world among men and women. + +Lord M. Brand! Brand! It should have been Firebrand, I think in my +conscience! + +Thus ended this doughty conference. + +I cannot say, Jack, but I am greatly taken with Col. Morden. He is brave +and generous, and knows the world; and then his contempt of the parsons +is a certain sign that he is one of us. + +We parted with great civility: Lord M. (not a little pleased that we did, +and as greatly taken with Colonel) repeated his wish, after the Colonel +was gone, that he had arrived in time to save the lady, if that would +have done it. + +I wish so too. For by my soul, Jack, I am every day more and more uneasy +about her. But I hope she is not so ill as I am told she is. + +I have made Charlotte transcribe the letter of this Firebrand, as my Lord +calls him; and will enclose her copy of it. All thy phlegm I know will +be roused into vengeance when thou readest it. + +I know not what to advise as to showing it to the lady. Yet, perhaps, +she will be able to reap more satisfaction than concern from it, knowing +her own innocence; in that it will give her to hope that her friends' +treatment of her is owing as much to misrepresentation as to their own +natural implacableness. Such a mind as her's, I know, would be glad to +find out the shadow of a reason for the shocking letters the Colonel says +they have sent her, and for their proposal to her of going to some one of +the colonies [confound them all--but, if I begin to curse, I shall never +have done]--Then it may put her upon such a defence as she might be glad +of an opportunity to make, and to shame them for their monstrous +credulity--but this I leave to thy own fat-headed prudence--Only it vexes +me to the heart, that even scandal and calumny should dare to surmise the +bare possibility of any man sharing the favours of a woman, whom now +methinks I could worship with a veneration due only to a divinity. + +Charlotte and her sister could not help weeping at the base aspersion: +When, when, said Patty, lifting up her hands, will this sweet lady's +sufferings be at an end?--O cousin Lovelace!-- + +And thus am I blamed for every one's faults!--When her brutal father +curses her, it is I. I upbraid her with her severe mother. The +implacableness of her stupid uncles is all mine. The virulence of her +brother, and the spite of her sister, are entirely owing to me. The +letter of this rascal Brand is of my writing--O Jack, what a wretch is +thy Lovelace! + + +*** + + +Returned without a letter!--This d----d fellow Will. is returned without +a letter!--Yet the rascal tells me that he hears you have been writing to +me these two days! + +Plague confound thee, who must know my impatience, and the reason for it! + +To send a man and horse on purpose; as I did! My imagination chained me +to the belly of the beast, in order to keep pace with him!--Now he is got +to this place; now to that; now to London; now to thee! + +Now [a letter given him] whip and spur upon the return. This town just +entered, not staying to bait: that village passed by: leaves the wind +behind him; in a foaming sweat man and horse. + +And in this way did he actually enter Lord M.'s courtyard. + +The reverberating pavement brought me down--The letter, Will.! The +letter, dog!--The letter, Sirrah! + +No letter, Sir!--Then wildly staring round me, fists clenched, and +grinning like a maniac, Confound thee for a dog, and him that sent thee +without one!--This moment out of my sight, or I'll scatter thy stupid +brains through the air. I snatched from his holsters a pistol, while the +rascal threw himself from the foaming beast, and ran to avoid the fate +which I wished with all my soul thou hadst been within the reach of me to +have met with. + +But, to be as meek as a lamb to one who has me at his mercy, and can +wring and torture my soul as he pleases, What canst thou mean to send +back my varlet without a letter?--I will send away by day-dawn another +fellow upon another beast for what thou hast written; and I charge thee +on thy allegiance, that thou dispatch him not back empty-handed. + + +POSTSCRIPT + +Charlotte, in a whim of delicacy, is displeased that I send the enclosed +letter to you--that her handwriting, forsooth! should go into the hands +of a single man! + +There's encouragement for thee, Belford! This is a certain sign that +thou may'st have her if thou wilt. And yet, till she has given me this +unerring demonstration of her glancing towards thee, I could not have +thought it. Indeed I have often in pleasantry told her that I would +bring such an affair to bear. But I never intended it; because she +really is a dainty girl; and thou art such a clumsy fellow in thy person, +that I should as soon have wished her a rhinoceros for a husband as thee. +But, poor little dears! they must stay till their time's come! They +won't have this man, and they won't have that man, from seventeen to +twenty-five: but then, afraid, as the saying is, that God has forgot +them, and finding their bloom departing, they are glad of whom they can +get, and verify the fable of the parson and the pears. + + + +LETTER XLI + +MR. BRAND, TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. +[ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.] + + +WORTHY SIR, MY VERY GOOD FRIEND AND PATRON, + +I arrived in town yesterday, after a tolerably pleasant journey +(considering the hot weather and dusty roads). I put up at the Bull and +Gate in Holborn, and hastened to Covent-garden. I soon found the house +where the unhappy lady lodgeth. And, in the back shop, had a good deal +of discourse* with Mrs. Smith, (her landlady,) whom I found to be so +'highly prepossessed'** in her 'favour,' that I saw it would not answer +your desires to take my informations 'altogether' from her: and being +obliged to attend my patron, (who to my sorrow, + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXXI. +** Transcriber's note: Mr. Brand's letters are characterized by a style +that makes excessive use of italics for emphasis. Although in the +remainder of _Clarissa_ I have largely disregarded italics for the sake +of plain-text formatting, this style makes such emphatic use of italics +that I have indicated all such instances in his letters by placing the +italicized words and phrases in quotations, thus ' '. + + + 'Miserum et aliena vivere quadra,') + +I find wanteth much waiting upon, and is 'another' sort of man than he +was at college: for, Sir, 'inter nos,' 'honours change manners.' For the +'aforesaid causes,' I thought it would best answer all the ends of the +commission with which you honoured me, to engage, in the desired +scrutiny, the wife of a 'particular friend,' who liveth almost +over-against the house where she lodgeth, and who is a gentlewoman of +'character,' and 'sobriety,' a 'mother of children,' and one who +'knoweth' the 'world' well. + +To her I applied myself, therefore, and gave her a short history of the +case, and desired she would very particularly inquire into the 'conduct' +of the unhappy young lady; her 'present way of life' and 'subsistence'; +her 'visiters,' her 'employments,' and such-like: for these, Sir, you +know, are the things whereof you wished to be informed. + +Accordingly, Sir, I waited upon the gentlewoman aforesaid, this day; and, +to 'my' very great trouble, (because I know it will be to 'your's,' and +likewise to all your worthy family's,) I must say, that I do find things +look a little more 'darkly' than I hoped the would. For, alas! Sir, the +gentlewoman's report turneth out not so 'favourable' for Miss's +reputation, as 'I' wished, as 'you' wished, and as 'every one' of her +friends wished. But so it is throughout the world, that 'one false step' +generally brings on 'another'; and peradventure 'a worse,' and 'a still +worse'; till the poor 'limed soul' (a very fit epithet of the Divine +Quarles's!) is quite 'entangled,' and (without infinite mercy) lost for +ever. + +It seemeth, Sir, she is, notwithstanding, in a very 'ill state of +health.' In this, 'both' gentlewomen (that is to say, Mrs. Smith, her +landlady, and my friend's wife) agree. Yet she goeth often out in a +chair, to 'prayers' (as it is said). But my friend's wife told me, that +nothing is more common in London, than that the frequenting of the church +at morning prayers is made the 'pretence' and 'cover' for 'private +assignations.' What a sad thing is this! that what was designed for +'wholesome nourishment' to the 'poor soul,' should be turned into 'rank +poison!' But as Mr. Daniel de Foe (an ingenious man, though a +'dissenter') observeth (but indeed it is an old proverb; only I think he +was the first that put it into verse) + + God never had a house of pray'r + But Satan had a chapel there. + +Yet to do the lady 'justice,' nobody cometh home with her: nor indeed +'can' they, because she goeth forward and backward in a 'sedan,' or +'chair,' (as they call it). But then there is a gentleman of 'no good +character' (an 'intimado' of Mr. Lovelace) who is a 'constant' visiter +of her, and of the people of the house, whom he 'regaleth' and +'treateth,' and hath (of consequence) their 'high good words.' + +I have thereupon taken the trouble (for I love to be 'exact' in any +'commission' I undertake) to inquire 'particularly' about this +'gentleman,' as he is called (albeit I hold no man so but by his actions: +for, as Juvenal saith, + + --'Nobilitas sola est, atque unica virtus') + +And this I did 'before' I would sit down to write to you. + +His name is Belford. He hath a paternal estate of upwards of one +thousand pounds by the year; and is now in mourning for an uncle who left +him very considerably besides. He beareth a very profligate character as +to 'women,' (for I inquired particularly about 'that,') and is Mr. +Lovelace's more especial 'privado,' with whom he holdeth a 'regular +correspondence'; and hath been often seen with Miss (tête à tête) at the +'window'--in no 'bad way,' indeed: but my friend's wife is of opinion +that all is not 'as it should be.' And, indeed, it is mighty strange to +me, if Miss be so 'notable a penitent' (as is represented) and if she +have such an 'aversion' to Mr. Lovelace, that she will admit his +'privado' into 'her retirements,' and see 'no other company.' + +I understand, from Mrs. Smith, that Mr. Hickman was to see her some time +ago, from Miss Howe; and I am told, by 'another' hand, (you see, Sir, how +diligent I have been to execute the 'commissions' you gave me,) that he +had no 'extraordinary opinion' of this Belford at first; though they were +seen together one morning by the opposite neighbour, at 'breakfast': and +another time this Belford was observed to 'watch' Mr. Hickman's coming +from her; so that, as it should seem, he was mighty zealous to +'ingratiate' himself with Mr. Hickman; no doubt to engage him to make a +'favourable report to Miss Howe' of the 'intimacy' he was admitted into +by her unhappy friend; who ('as she is very ill') may 'mean no harm' in +allowing his visits, (for he, it seemeth, brought to her, or recommended, +at least, the doctor and apothecary that attend her:) but I think (upon +the whole) 'it looketh not well.' + +I am sorry, Sir, I cannot give you a better account of the young lady's +'prudence.' But, what shall we say? + + 'Uvaque conspectâ livorem ducit ab uvâ,' + +as Juvenal observeth. + +One thing I am afraid of; which is, that Miss may be under 'necessities'; +and that this Belford (who, as Mrs. Smith owns, hath 'offered her money,' +which she, 'at the time,' refused) may find an opportunity to 'take +advantage' of those 'necessities': and it is well observed by that poet, +that + + 'Ægrè formosam poteris servare puellam: + Nunc prece, nunc pretio, forma petita ruit.' + +And this Belford (who is a 'bold man,' and hath, as they say, the 'look' +of one) may make good that of Horace, (with whose writings you are so +well acquainted; nobody better;) + + 'Audax omnia perpeti, + Gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas.' + +Forgive me, Sir, for what I am going to write: but if you could prevail +upon the rest of your family to join in the scheme which 'you,' and her +'virtuous sister,' Miss Arabella, and the Archdeacon, and I, once talked +of, (which is to persuade the unhappy young lady to go, in some +'creditable' manner, to some one of the foreign colonies,) it might not +save only her 'own credit' and 'reputation,' but the 'reputation' and +'credit' of all her 'family,' and a great deal of 'vexation' moreover. +For it is my humble opinion, that you will hardly (any of you) enjoy +yourselves while this ('once' innocent) young lady is in the way of being +so frequently heard of by you: and this would put her 'out of the way' +both of 'this Belford' and of 'that Lovelace,' and it might, +peradventure, prevent as much 'evil' as 'scandal.' + +You will forgive me, Sir, for this my 'plainness.' Ovid pleadeth for me, + + '----Adulator nullus amicus erit.' + +And I have no view but that of approving myself a 'zealous well-wisher' +to 'all' your worthy family, (whereto I owe a great number of +obligations,) and very particularly, Sir, + +Your obliged and humble servant, +ELIAS BRAND. + +WEDN. AUG. 9. + + +P.S. I shall give you 'farther hints' when I come down, (which will be in + a few days;) and who my 'informants' were; but by 'these' you will + see, that I have been very assiduous (for the time) in the task you + set me upon. + +The 'length' of my letter you will excuse: for I need not tell you, Sir, + what 'narrative,' 'complex,' and 'conversation' letters (such a one + as 'mine') require. Every one to his 'talent.' 'Letter-writing' + is mine. I will be bold to say; and that my 'correspondence' was + much coveted in the university, on that account, by 'tyros,' and + by 'sophs,' when I was hardly a 'soph' myself. But this I should + not have taken upon myself to mention, but only in defence of the + 'length' of my letter; for nobody writeth 'shorter' or 'pithier,' + when the subject requireth 'common forms' only--but, in apologizing + for my 'prolixity,' I am 'adding' to the 'fault,' (if it were one, + which, however, I cannot think it to be, the 'subject' considered: + but this I have said before in other words:) so, Sir, if you will + excuse my 'post-script,' I am sure you will not find fault with my + 'letter.' + +One word more as to a matter of 'erudition,' which you greatly love to + hear me 'start' and 'dwell upon.' Dr. Lewen once, in 'your' + presence, (as you, 'my good patron,' cannot but remember,) in a + 'smartish' kind of debate between 'him' and 'me,' took upon him to + censure the 'paranthetical' style, as I call it. He was a very + learned and judicious man, to be sure, and an ornament to 'our + function': but yet I must needs say, that it is a style which I + greatly like; and the good Doctor was then past his 'youth,' and + that time of life, of consequence, when a 'fertile imagination,' + and a 'rich fancy,' pour in ideas so fast upon a writer, that + parentheses are often wanted (and that for the sake of 'brevity,' + as well as 'perspicuity') to save the reader the trouble of reading + a passage 'more than once.' Every man to his talent, (as I said + before.) We are all so apt to set up our 'natural biasses' for + 'general standards,' that I wondered 'the less' at the worthy + Doctor's 'stiffness' on this occasion. He 'smiled at me,' you may + remember, Sir--and, whether I was right or not, I am sure I 'smiled + at him.' And 'you,' my 'worthy patron,' (as I had the satisfaction + to observe,) seemed to be of 'my party.' But was it not strange, + that the 'old gentleman' and 'I' should so widely differ, when the + 'end' with 'both' (that is to say, 'perspicuity' or 'clearness,') + was the same?--But what shall we say?-- + + 'Errare est hominis, sed non persistere.' + +I think I have nothing to add until I have the honour of attending you in + 'person'; but I am, (as above,) &c. &c. &c. + +E.B. + + + +LETTER XLII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY NIGHT, AUG. 30. + + +It was lucky enough that our two servants met at Hannah's,* which gave +them so good an opportunity of exchanging their letters time enough for +each to return to his master early in the day. + + +* The Windmill, near Slough. + + +Thou dost well to boast of thy capacity for managing servants, and to set +up for correcting our poets in their characters of this class of people,* +when, like a madman, thou canst beat their teeth out, and attempt to +shoot them through the head, for not bringing to thee what they had no +power to obtain. + + +* See Letter XX. of this volume. + + +You well observe* that you would have made a thorough-paced lawyer. The +whole of the conversation-piece between you and the Colonel affords a +convincing proof that there is a black and a white side to every cause: +But what must the conscience of a partial whitener of his own cause, or +blackener of another's, tell him, while he is throwing dust in the eyes +of his judges, and all the time knows his own guilt? + + +* See Letter XL. of this volume. + + +The Colonel, I see, is far from being a faultless man: but while he +sought not to carry his point by breach of faith, he has an excuse which +thou hast not. But, with respect to him, and to us all, I can now, with +the detestation of some of my own actions, see, that the taking advantage +of another person's good opinion of us to injure (perhaps to ruin) that +other, is the most ungenerous wickedness that can be committed. + +Man acting thus by man, we should not be at a loss to give such actions a +name: But is it not doubly and trebly aggravated, when such advantage is +taken of an unexperienced and innocent young creature, whom we pretend to +love above all the women in the world; and when we seal our pretences by +the most solemn vows and protestations of inviolable honour that we can +invent? + +I see that this gentleman is the best match thou ever couldest have had, +upon all accounts: his spirit such another impetuous one as thy own; soon +taking fire; vindictive; and only differing in this, that the cause he +engages in is a just one. But commend me to honest brutal Mowbray, who, +before he knew the cause, offers his sword in thy behalf against a man +who had taken the injured side, and whom he had never seen before. + +As soon as I had run through your letters, and the copy of that of the +incendiary Brand's, (by the latter of which I saw to what cause a great +deal of this last implacableness of the Harlowe family is owing,) I took +coach to Smith's, although I had been come from thence but about an hour, +and had taken leave of the lady for the night. + +I sent up for Mrs. Lovick, and desired her, in the first place, to +acquaint the lady (who was busied in her closet,) that I had letters from +Berks: in which I was informed, that the interview between Colonel Morden +and Mr. Lovelace had ended without ill consequences; that the Colonel +intended to write to her very soon, and was interesting himself mean +while, in her favour, with her relations; that I hoped that this +agreeable news would be means of giving her good rest; and I would wait +upon her in the morning, by the time she should return from prayers, with +all the particulars. + +She sent me word that she should be glad to see me in the morning; and +was highly obliged to me for the good news I had sent her up. + +I then, in the back shop, read to Mrs. Lovick and to Mrs. Smith the copy +of Brand's letter, and asked them if they could guess at the man's +informant? They were not at a loss; Mrs. Smith having seen the same +fellow Brand who had talked with her, as I mentioned in the former,* come +out of a milliner's shop over against them; which milliner, she said, had +also lately been very inquisitive about the lady. + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXXI. + + +I wanted no farther hint; but, bidding them take no notice to the lady of +what I had read, I shot over the way, and, asking for the mistress of the +house, she came to me. + +Retiring with her, at her invitation, into her parlour, I desired to know +if she were acquainted with a young country clergyman of the name of +Brand. She hesitatingly, seeing me in some emotion, owned that she had +some small knowledge of the gentleman. Just then came in her husband, +who is, it seems, a petty officer of excise, (and not an ill-behaved +man,) who owned a fuller knowledge of him. + +I have the copy of a letter, said I, from this Brand, in which he has +taken great liberties with my character, and with that of the most +unblamable lady in the world, which he grounds upon information that you, +Madam, have given him. And then I read to them several passages in his +letter, and asked what foundation she had for giving that fellow such +impressions of either of us? + +They knew not what to answer: but at last said, that he had told them how +wickedly the young lady had run away from her parents: what worthy and +rich people they were: in what favour he stood with them; and that they +had employed him to inquire after her behaviour, visiters, &c. + +They said, 'That indeed they knew very little of the young lady; but that +[curse upon their censoriousness!] it was but too natural to think, that, +where a lady had given way to a delusion, and taken so wrong a step, she +would not stop there: that the most sacred places and things were but too +often made clokes for bad actions; that Mr. Brand had been informed +(perhaps by some enemy of mine) that I was a man of very free principles, +and an intimado, as he calls it, of the man who had ruined her. And that +their cousin Barker, a manteau-maker, who lodged up one pair of stairs,' +(and who, at their desire, came down and confirmed what they said,) 'had +often, from her window, seen me with the lady in her chamber, and both +talking very earnestly together; and that Mr. Brand, being unable to +account for her admiring my visits, and knowing I was but a new +acquaintance of her's, and an old one of Mr. Lovelace, thought himself +obliged to lay these matters before her friends.' + +This was the sum and substance of their tale. O how I cursed the +censoriousness of this plaguy triumvirate! A parson, a milliner, and a +mantua-maker! The two latter, not more by business led to adorn the +persons, than generally by scandal to destroy the reputations, of those +they have a mind to exercise their talents upon! + +The two women took great pains to persuade me that they themselves were +people of conscience;--of consequence, I told them, too much addicted, I +feared, to censure other people who pretended not to their strictness; +for that I had ever found censoriousness, with those who affected to be +thought more pious than their neighbours. + +They answered, that that was not their case; and that they had since +inquired into the lady's character and manner of life, and were very much +concerned to think any thing they had said should be made use of against +her: and as they heard from Mrs. Smith that she was not likely to live +long, they should be sorry she should go out of the world a sufferer by +their means, or with an ill opinion of them, though strangers to her. +The husband offered to write, if I pleased, to Mr. Brand, in vindication +of the lady; and the two women said they should be glad to wait upon her +in person, to beg her pardon for any thing she had reason to take amiss +from them; because they were now convinced that there was not such +another young lady in the world. + +I told them that the least said of the affair to the lady, in her present +circumstances, was best. That she was a heavenly creature, and fond of +taking all occasions to find excuses for her relations on their +implacableness to her: that therefore I should take some notice to her of +the uncharitable and weak surmises which gave birth to so vile a scandal: +but that I would have him, Mr. Walton, (for that is the husband's name,) +write to his acquaintance Brand as soon as possible, as he had offered; +and so I left them. + +As to what thou sayest of thy charming cousin, let me know if thou hast +any meaning in it. I have not the vanity to think myself deserving of +such a lady as Miss Montague; and should not therefore care to expose +myself to her scorn and to thy derision. But were I assured I might +avoid both of these, I would soon acquaint thee that I should think no +pains nor assiduity too much to obtain a share in the good graces of such +a lady. + +But I know thee too well to depend upon any thing thou sayest on this +subject. Thou lovest to make thy friends the objects of ridicule to +ladies; and imaginest, from the vanity, (and, in this respect, I will say +littleness,) of thine own heart, that thou shinest the brighter for the +foil. + +Thus didst thou once play off the rough Mowbray with Miss Hatton, till +the poor fellow knew not how to go either backward or forward. + + + +LETTER XLIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +THURSDAY, 11 O'CLOCK, AUG. 31. + + +I am just come from the lady, whom I left cheerful and serene. + +She thanked me for my communication of the preceding night. I read to +her such parts of your letters as I could read to her; and I thought it +was a good test to distinguish the froth and whipt-syllabub in them from +the cream, in what one could and could not read to a woman of so fine a +mind; since four parts out of six of thy letters, which I thought +entertaining as I read them to myself, appeared to me, when I should have +read them to her, most abominable stuff, and gave me a very contemptible +idea of thy talents, and of my own judgment. + +She as far from rejoicing, as I had done, at the disappointment her +letter gave you when explained. + +She said, she meant only an innocent allegory, which might carry +instruction and warning to you, when the meaning was taken, as well as +answer her own hopes for the time. It was run off in a hurry. She was +afraid it was not quite right in her. But hoped the end would excuse (if +it could not justify) the means. And then she again expressed a good +deal of apprehension lest you should still take it into your head to +molest her, when her time, she said, was so short, that she wanted every +moment of it; repeating what she had once said before, that, when she +wrote, she was so ill that she believed she should not have lived till +now: if she had thought she should, she must have studied for an +expedient that would have better answered her intentions. Hinting at a +removal out of the knowledge of us both. + +But she was much pleased that the conference between you and Colonel +Morden, after two or three such violent sallies, as I acquainted her you +had had between you, ended so amicably; and said she must absolutely +depend upon the promise I had given her to use my utmost endeavours to +prevent farther mischief on her account. + +She was pleased with the justice you did her character to her cousin. + +She was glad to hear that he had so kind an opinion of her, and that he +would write to her. + +I was under an unnecessary concern, how to break to her that I had the +copy of Brand's vile letter: unnecessary, I say; for she took it just as +you thought she would, as an excuse she wished to have for the +implacableness of her friends; and begged I would let her read it +herself; for, said she, the contents cannot disturb me, be they what they +will. + +I gave it to her, and she read it to herself; a tear now and then being +ready to start, and a sigh sometimes interposing. + +She gave me back the letter with great and surprising calmness, +considering the subject. + +There was a time, said she, and that not long since, when such a letter +as this would have greatly pained me. But I hope I have now go above all +these things: and I can refer to your kind offices, and to those of Miss +Howe, the justice that will be done to my memory among my friends. There +is a good and a bad light in which every thing that befalls us may be +taken. If the human mind will busy itself to make the worst of every +disagreeable occurrence, it will never want woe. This letter, affecting +as the subject of it is to my reputation, gives me more pleasure than +pain, because I can gather from it, that had not my friends been +prepossessed by misinformed or rash and officious persons, who are always +at hand to flatter or soothe the passions of the affluent, they could not +have been so immovably determined against me. But now they are +sufficiently cleared from every imputation of unforgivingness; for, while +I appeared to them in the character of a vile hypocrite, pretending to +true penitence, yet giving up myself to profligate courses, how could I +expect either their pardon or blessing? + +But, Madam, said I, you'll see by the date of this letter, that their +severity, previous to that, cannot be excused by it. + +It imports me much, replied she, on account of my present wishes, as to +the office you are so kind to undertake, that you should not think +harshly of my friends. I must own to you, that I have been apt sometimes +myself to think them not only severe but cruel. Suffering minds will be +partial to their own cause and merits. Knowing their own hearts, if +sincere, they are apt to murmur when harshly treated: But, if they are +not believed to be innocent, by persons who have a right to decide upon +their conduct according to their own judgments, how can it be helped? +Besides, Sir, how do you know, that there are not about my friends as +well-meaning misrepresenters as Mr. Brand really seems to be? But, be +this as it will, there is no doubt that there are and have been +multitudes of persons, as innocent as myself, who have suffered upon +surmises as little probable as those on which Mr. Brand founds his +judgment. Your intimacy, Sir, with Mr. Lovelace, and (may I say?) a +character which, it seems, you have been less solicitous formerly to +justify than perhaps you will be for the future, and your frequent visits +to me may well be thought to be questionable circumstances in my conduct. + +I could only admire her in silence. + +But you see, Sir, proceeded she, how necessary it is for young people of +our sex to be careful of our company. And how much, at the same time, it +behoves young persons of your's to be chary of their own reputation, were +it only for the sake of such of our's as they may mean honourably by, and +who otherwise may suffer in their good names for being seen in their +company. + +As to Mr. Brand, continued she, he is to be pitied; and let me enjoin +you, Mr. Belford, not to take any resentments against him which may be +detrimental either to his person or his fortunes. Let his function and +his good meaning plead for him. He will have concern enough, when he +finds every body, whose displeasure I now labour under, acquitting my +memory of perverse guilt, and joining in a general pity for me. + +This, Lovelace, is the woman whose life thou hast curtailed in the +blossom of it!--How many opportunities must thou have had of admiring her +inestimable worth, yet couldst have thy senses so much absorbed in the +WOMAN, in her charming person, as to be blind to the ANGEL, that shines +out in such full glory in her mind! Indeed, I have ever thought myself, +when blest with her conversation, in the company of a real angel: and I +am sure it would be impossible for me, were she to be as beautiful, and +as crimsoned over with health, as I have seen her, to have the least +thought of sex, when I heard her talk. + + +THURSDAY, THREE O'CLOCK, AUG. 31. + +On my re-visit to the lady, I found her almost as much a sufferer from +joy as she had sometimes been from grief; for she had just received a +very kind letter from her cousin Morden; which she was so good as to +communicate to me. As she had already begun to answer it, I begged leave +to attend her in the evening, that I might not interrupt her in it. + +The letter is a very tender one * * * * + +[Here Mr. Belford gives the substance of it upon his memory; but that is + omitted; as the letter is given at length (see the next letter.) + And then adds:] + +But, alas! all will be now too late. For the decree is certainly gone +out--the world is unworthy of her. + + + +LETTER XLIV + +COLONEL MORDEN, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +TUESDAY, AUG. 29. + + +I should not, my dearest Cousin, have been a fortnight in England, +without either doing myself the honour of waiting upon you in person, or +of writing to you; if I had not been busying myself almost all the time +in your service, in hopes of making my visit or letter still more +acceptable to you--acceptable as I have reason to presume either will be +from the unquestionable love I ever bore you, and from the esteem you +always honoured me with. + +Little did I think that so many days would have been required to effect +my well-intended purpose, where there used to be a love so ardent on one +side, and where there still is, as I am thoroughly convinced, the most +exalted merit on the other! + +I was yesterday with Mr. Lovelace and Lord M. I need not tell you, it +seems, how very desirous the whole family and all the relations of that +nobleman are of the honour of an alliance with you; nor how exceedingly +earnest the ungrateful man is to make you all the reparation in his +power. + +I think, my dear Cousin, that you cannot now do better than to give him +the honour of your hand. He says just and great things of your virtue, +and so heartily condemns himself, that I think there is honorable room +for you to forgive him: and the more room, as it seems you are determined +against a legal prosecution. + +Your effectual forgiveness of Mr. Lovelace, it is evident to me, will +accelerate a general reconciliation: for, at present, my other cousins +cannot persuade themselves that he is in earnest to do you justice; or +that you would refuse him, if you believed he was. + +But, my dear Cousin, there may possibly be something in this affair, to +which I may be a stranger. If there be, and you will acquaint me with +it, all that a naturally-warm heart can do in your behalf shall be done. + +I hope I shall be able, in my next visits to my several cousins, to set +all right with them. Haughty spirits, when convinced that they have +carried resentments too high, want but a good excuse to condescend: and +parents must always love the child they once loved. + +But if I find them inflexible, I will set out, and attend you without +delay; for I long to see you, after so many years' absence. + +Mean while, I beg the favour of a few lines, to know if you have reason +to doubt Mr. Lovelace's sincerity. For my part, I can have none, if I am +to judge from the conversation that passed between us yesterday, in +presence of Lord M. + +You will be pleased to direct for me at your uncle Antony's. + +Permit me, my dearest Cousin, till I can procure a happy reconciliation +between you and your father, and brother, and uncles, to supply the place +to you of all those near relations, as well as that of + +Your affectionate kinsman, and humble servant, +WM. MORDEN. + + + +LETTER XLV + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO WM. MORDEN, ESQ. +THURSDAY, AUG. 31. + + +I most heartily congratulate you, dear Sir, on your return to your native +country. + +I heard with much pleasure that you were come; but I was both afraid and +ashamed, till you encouraged me by a first notice, to address myself to +you. + +How consoling is it to my wounded heart to find that you have not been +carried away by that tide of resentment and displeasure with which I have +been so unhappily overwhelmed--but that, while my still nearer relations +have not thought fit to examine into the truth of vile reports raised +against me, you have informed yourself of my innocence, and generously +credited the information! + +I have not the least reason to doubt Mr. Lovelace's sincerity in his +offers of marriage; nor that all his relations are heartily desirous of +ranking me among them. I have had noble instances of their esteem for +me, on their apprehending that my father's displeasure must have had +absolutely refused their pressing solicitations in their kinsman's favour +as well as his own. + +Nor think me, my dear Cousin, blamable for refusing him. I had given Mr. +Lovelace no reason to think me a weak creature. If I had, a man of his +character might have thought himself warranted to endeavour to take +ungenerous advantage of the weakness he had been able to inspire. The +consciousness of my own weakness (in that case) might have brought me to +a composition with his wickedness. + +I can indeed forgive him. But that is, because I think his crimes have +set me above him. Can I be above the man, Sir, to whom I shall give my +hand and my vows, and with them a sanction to the most premeditated +baseness? No, Sir, let me say, that your cousin Clarissa, were she +likely to live many years, and that (if she married not this man) in +penury or want, despised and forsaken by all her friends, puts not so +high a value upon the conveniencies of life, nor upon life itself, as to +seek to re-obtain the one, or to preserve the other, by giving such a +sanction: a sanction, which (were she to perform her duty,) would reward +the violator. + +Nor is it so much from pride as from principle that I say this. What, +Sir! when virtue, when chastity, is the crown of a woman, and +particularly of a wife, shall form an attempt upon her's but upon a +presumption that she was capable of receiving his offered hand when he +had found himself mistaken in the vile opinion he had conceived of her? +Hitherto he has not had reason to think me weak. Nor will I give an +instance so flagrant, that weak I am in a point in which it would be +criminal to be found weak. + +One day, Sir, you will perhaps know all my story. But, whenever it is +known, I beg that the author of my calamities may not be vindictively +sought after. He could not have been the author of them, but for a +strange concurrence of unhappy causes. As the law will not be able to +reach him when I am gone, the apprehension of any other sort of vengeance +terrifies me; since, in such a case, should my friends be safe, what +honour would his death bring to my memory?--If any of them should come to +misfortune, how would my fault be aggravated! + +God long preserve you, my dearest Cousin, and bless you but in proportion +to the consolation you have given me, in letting me know that you still +love me; and that I have one near and dear relation who can pity and +forgive me; (and then you will be greatly blessed;) is the prayer of + +Your ever grateful and affectionate +CL. HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER XLVI + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +[IN ANSWER TO HIS LETTERS XXIII. XXXVII. OF THIS VOLUME.] +THURSDAY, AUG. 31. + + +I cannot but own that I am cut to the heart by this Miss Harlowe's +interpretation of her letter. She ought never to be forgiven. She, a +meek person, and a penitent, and innocent, and pious, and I know not +what, who can deceive with a foot in the grave!-- + +'Tis evident, that she sat down to write this letter with a design to +mislead and deceive. And if she be capable of that, at such a crisis, +she has as much need of Heaven's forgiveness, as I have of her's: and, +with all her cant of charity and charity, if she be not more sure of it +than I am of her real pardon, and if she take the thing in the light she +ought to take it in, she will have a few darker moments yet to come than +she seems to expect. + +Lord M. himself, who is not one of those (to speak in his own phrase) who +can penetrate a millstone, sees the deceit, and thinks it unworthy of +her; though my cousins Montague vindicate her. And no wonder this cursed +partial sex [I hate 'em all--by my soul, I hate 'em all!] will never +allow any thing against an individual of it, where our's is concerned. +And why? Because, if they censure deceit in another, they must condemn +their own hearts. + +She is to send me a letter after she is in Heaven, is she? The devil +take such allegories, and the devil take thee for calling this absurdity +an innocent artifice! + +I insist upon it, that if a woman of her character, at such a critical +time, is to be justified in such a deception, a man in full health and +vigour of body and mind, as I am, may be excused for all his stratagems +and attempts against her. And, thank my stars, I can now sit me down +with a quiet conscience on that score. By my soul, I can, Jack. Nor has +any body, who can acquit her, a right to blame me. But with some, +indeed, every thing she does must be good, every thing I do must be bad-- +And why? Because she has always taken care to coax the stupid misjudging +world, like a woman: while I have constantly defied and despised its +censures, like a man. + +But, notwithstanding all, you may let her know from me that I will not +molest her, since my visits would be so shocking to her: and I hope she +will take this into her consideration as a piece of generosity which she +could hardly expect after the deception she has put upon me. And let her +farther know, that if there be any thing in my power, that will +contribute either to her ease or honour, I will obey her, at the very +first intimation, however disgraceful or detrimental to myself. All +this, to make her unapprehensive, and that she may have nothing to pull +her back. + +If her cursed relations could be brought as cheerfully to perform their +parts, I'd answer life for life for her recovery. + +But who, that has so many ludicrous images raised in his mind by the +awkward penitence, can forbear laughing at thee? Spare, I beseech thee, +dear Belford, for the future, all thine own aspirations, if thou wouldst +not dishonour those of an angel indeed. + +When I came to that passage, where thou sayest that thou considerest her* +as one sent from Heaven to draw thee after her--for the heart of me I +could not for an hour put thee out of my head, in the attitude of dame +Elizabeth Carteret, on her monument in Westminster Abbey. If thou never +observedst it, go thither on purpose: and there wilt thou see this dame +in effigy, with uplifted head and hand, the latter taken hold of by a +cupid every inch of stone, one clumsy foot lifted up also, aiming, as the +sculptor designed it, to ascend; but so executed, as would rather make +one imagine that the figure (without shoe or stocking, as it is, though +the rest of the body is robed) was looking up to its corn-cutter: the +other riveted to its native earth, bemired, like thee (immersed thou +callest it) beyond the possibility of unsticking itself. Both figures, +thou wilt find, seem to be in a contention, the bigger, whether it should +pull down the lesser about its ears--the lesser (a chubby fat little +varlet, of a fourth part of the other's bigness, with wings not much +larger than those of a butterfly) whether it should raise the larger to a +Heaven it points to, hardly big enough to contain the great toes of +either. + + +* See Letter XXXVII. of this volume. + + +Thou wilt say, perhaps, that the dame's figure in stone may do credit, in +the comparison, to thine, both in grain and shape, wooden as thou art all +over: but that the lady, who, in every thing but in the trick she has +played me so lately, is truly an angel, is but sorrily represented by the +fat-flanked cupid. This I allow thee. But yet there is enough in thy +aspirations to strike my mind with a resemblance of thee and the lady to +the figures on the wretched monument; for thou oughtest to remember, +that, prepared as she may be to mount to her native skies, it is +impossible for her to draw after her a heavy fellow who has so much to +repent of as thou hast. + +But now, to be serious once more, let me tell you, Belford, that, if the +lady be really so ill as you write she is, it will become you [no Roman +style here!] in a case so very affecting, to be a little less pointed and +sarcastic in your reflections. For, upon my soul, the matter begins to +grate me most confoundedly. + +I am now so impatient to hear oftener of her, that I take the hint +accidentally given me by our two fellows meeting at Slough, and resolve +to go to our friend Doleman's at Uxbridge; whose wife and sister, as well +as he, have so frequently pressed me to give them my company for a week +or two. There shall I be within two hours' ride, if any thing should +happen to induce her to see me: for it will well become her piety, and +avowed charity, should the worst happen, [the Lord of Heaven and Earth, +however, avert that worst!] to give me that pardon from her lips, which +she has not denied to me by pen and ink. And as she wishes my +reformation, she knows not what good effects such an interview may have +upon me. + +I shall accordingly be at Doleman's to-morrow morning, by eleven at +farthest. My fellow will find me there at his return from you (with a +letter, I hope). I shall have Joel with me likewise, that I may send +the oftener, as matters fall out. Were I to be still nearer, or in town, +it would be impossible to withhold myself from seeing her. + +But, if the worst happen!--as, by your continual knelling, I know not +what to think of it!--[Yet, once more, Heaven avert that worst!--How +natural it is to pray, when once cannot help one's self!]--THEN say not, +in so many dreadful words, what the event is--Only, that you advise me to +take a trip to Paris--And that will stab me to the heart. + + +*** + + +I so well approve of your generosity to poor Belton's sister, that I have +made Mowbray give up his legacy, as I do mine, towards her India bonds. +When I come to town, Tourville shall do the like; and we will buy each a +ring to wear in memory of the honest fellow, with our own money, that we +may perform his will, as well as our own. + +My fellow rides the rest of the night. I charge you, Jack, if you would +save his life, that you send him not back empty-handed. + + + +LETTER XLVII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +TUESDAY NIGHT, AUG. 30. + + +When I concluded my last, I hoped that my next attendance upon this +surprising lady would furnish me with some particulars as agreeable as +now could be hoped for from the declining way she is in, by reason of +the welcome letter she had received from her cousin Morden. But it +proved quite otherwise to me, though not to herself; for I think I was +never more shocked in my life than on the occasion I shall mention +presently. + +When I attended her about seven in the evening, she told me that she +found herself in a very petulant way after I had left her. Strange, said +she, that the pleasure I received from my cousin's letter should have +such an effect upon me! But I could not help giving way to a comparative +humour, as I may call it, and to think it very hard that my nearer +relations did not take the methods which my cousin Morden kindly took, by +inquiring into my merit or demerit, and giving my cause a fair audit +before they proceeded to condemnation. + +She had hardly said this, when she started, and a blush overspread her +sweet face, on hearing, as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the +stairs, as if a large trunk were bringing up between two people: and, +looking upon me with an eye of concern, Blunderers! said she, they have +brought in something two hours before the time.--Don't be surprised, Sir +--it is all to save you trouble. + +Before I could speak, in came Mrs. Smith: O Madam, said she, what have +you done?--Mrs. Lovick, entering, made the same exclamation. Lord have +mercy upon me, Madam! cried I, what have you done?--For she, stepping at +the same instant to the door, the women told me it was a coffin.--O +Lovelace! that thou hadst been there at that moment!--Thou, the causer of +all these shocking scenes! Surely thou couldst not have been less +affected than I, who have no guilt, as to her, to answer for. + +With an intrepidity of a piece with the preparation, having directed them +to carry it to her bed-chamber, she returned to us: they were not to have +brought it in till after dark, said she--Pray, excuse me, Mr. Belford: +and don't you, Mrs. Lovick, be concerned: nor you, Mrs. Smith.--Why +should you? There is nothing more in it than the unusualness of the +thing. Why may we not be as reasonably shocked at going to church where +are the monuments of our ancestors, with whose dust we even hope our dust +shall be one day mingled, as to be moved at such a sight as this? + +We all remaining silent, the women having their aprons at their eyes, Why +this concern for nothing at all? said she. If I am to be blamed for any +thing, it is for showing too much solicitude, as it may be thought, for +this earthly part. I love to do every thing for myself that I can do. I +ever did. Every other material point is so far done, and taken care of, +that I have had leisure for things of lesser moment. Minutenesses may be +observed, where greater articles are not neglected for them. I might +have had this to order, perhaps, when less fit to order it. I have no +mother, no sister, no Mrs. Norton, no Miss Howe, near me. Some of you +must have seen this in a few days, if not now; perhaps have had the +friendly trouble of directing it. And what is the difference of a few +days to you, when I am gratified rather than discomposed by it? I shall +not die the sooner for such a preparation. Should not every body that +has any thing to bequeath make their will? And who, that makes a will, +should be afraid of a coffin?--My dear friends, [to the women] I have +considered these things; do not, with such an object before you as you +have had in me for weeks, give me reason to think you have not. + +How reasonable was all this!--It showed, indeed, that she herself had +well considered it. But yet we could not help being shocked at the +thoughts of the coffin thus brought in; the lovely person before our +eyes who is, in all likelihood, so soon to fill it. + +We were all silent still, the women in grief; I in a manner stunned. She +would not ask me, she said; but would be glad, since it had thus earlier +than she had intended been brought in, that her two good friends would +walk in and look upon it. They would be less shocked when it was made +more familiar to their eye: don't you lead back, said she, a starting +steed to the object he is apt to start at, in order to familiarize him to +it, and cure his starting? The same reason will hold in this case. Come, +my good friends, I will lead you in. + +I took my leave; telling her she had done wrong, very wrong; and ought +not, by any means, to have such an object before her. + +The women followed her in.--'Tis a strange sex! Nothing is too shocking +for them to look upon, or see acted, that has but novelty and curiosity +in it. + +Down I posted; got a chair; and was carried home, extremely shocked and +discomposed: yet, weighing the lady's arguments, I know not why I was so +affected--except, as she said, at the unusualness of the thing. + +While I waited for a chair, Mrs. Smith came down, and told me that there +were devices and inscriptions upon the lid. Lord bless me! is a coffin a +proper subject to display fancy upon?--But these great minds cannot avoid +doing extraordinary things! + + + +LETTER XLVIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +FRIDAY MORN. SEPT. 1. + + +It is surprising, that I, a man, should be so much affected as I was, at +such an object as is the subject of my former letter; who also, in my +late uncle's case, and poor Belton's had the like before me, and the +directing of it: when she, a woman, of so weak and tender a frame, who +was to fill it (so soon perhaps to fill it!) could give orders about it, +and draw out the devices upon it, and explain them with so little concern +as the women tell me she did to them last night after I was gone. + +I really was ill, and restless all night. Thou wert the subject of my +execration, as she was of my admiration, all the time I was quite awake: +and, when I dozed, I dreamt of nothing but of flying hour-glasses, +deaths-heads, spades, mattocks, and eternity; the hint of her devices (as +given me by Mrs. Smith) running in my head. + +However, not being able to keep away from Smith's, I went thither about +seven. The lady was just gone out: she had slept better, I found, than +I, though her solemn repository was under her window, not far from her +bed-side. + +I was prevailed upon by Mrs. Smith and her nurse Shelburne (Mrs. Lovick +being abroad with her) to go up and look at the devices. Mrs. Lovick has +since shown me a copy of the draught by which all was ordered; and I will +give thee a sketch of the symbols. + +The principal device, neatly etched on a plate of white metal, is a +crowned serpent, with its tail in its mouth, forming a ring, the emblem +of eternity: and in the circle made by it is this inscription: + + CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + April x. + + [Then the year.] + + ÆTAT. XIX. + +For ornaments: at top, an hour-glass, winged. At bottom, an urn. + +Under the hour-glass, on another plate, this inscription: + + HERE the wicked cease from troubling: and HERE the + weary be at rest. Job. iii. 17. + +Over the urn, near the bottom: + + Turn again unto thy rest, O my soul! for the Lord hath + rewarded thee: And why? Thou hast delivered my + soul from death; mine eyes from tears; and my feet + from falling. Ps. cxvi. 7, 8. + +Over this is the head of a white lily snapt short off, and just falling +from the stalk; and this inscription over that, between the principal +plate and the lily: + + The days of man are but as grass. For he flourisheth as a + flower of the field: for, as soon as the wind goeth over + it, it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no + more. Ps. ciii. 15, 16. + +She excused herself to the women, on the score of her youth, and being +used to draw for her needleworks, for having shown more fancy than would +perhaps be thought suitable on so solemn an occasion. + +The date, April 10, she accounted for, as not being able to tell what her +closing-day would be; and as that was the fatal day of her leaving her +father's house. + +She discharged the undertaker's bill after I went away, with as much +cheerfulness as she could ever have paid for the clothes she sold to +purchase this her palace: for such she called it; reflecting upon herself +for the expensiveness of it, saying, that they might observe in her, that +pride left not poor mortals to the last: but indeed she did not know but +her father would permit it, when furnished, to be carried down to be +deposited with her ancestors; and, in that case, she ought not to +discredit those ancestors in her appearance amongst them. + +It is covered with fine black cloth, and lined with white satin; soon, +she said, to be tarnished with viler earth than any it could be covered +by. + +The burial-dress was brought home with it. The women had curiosity +enough, I suppose, to see her open that, if she did open it.--And, +perhaps, thou wouldst have been glad to have been present to have admired +it too!-- + +Mrs. Lovick said, she took the liberty to blame her; and wished the +removal of such an object--from her bed-chamber, at least: and was so +affected with the noble answer she made upon it, that she entered it down +the moment she left her. + +'To persons in health, said she, this sight may be shocking; and the +preparation, and my unconcernedness in it, may appear affected: but to +me, who have had so gradual a weaning-time from the world, and so much +reason not to love it, I must say, I dwell on, I indulge, (and, strictly +speaking, I enjoy,) the thoughts of death. For, believe me,' [looking +stedfastly at the awful receptacle,] 'believe what at this instant I feel +to be most true, That there is such a vast superiority of weight and +importance in the thought of death, and its hoped-for happy consequences, +that it in a manner annihilates all other considerations and concerns. +Believe me, my good friends, it does what nothing else can do: it teaches +me, by strengthening in me the force of the divinest example, to forgive +the injuries I have received; and shuts out the remembrance of past evils +from my soul.' + +And now let me ask thee, Lovelace, Dost thou think that, when the time +shall come that thou shalt be obliged to launch into the boundless ocean +of eternity, thou wilt be able (any more than poor Belton) to act thy +part with such true heroism, as this sweet and tender blossom of a woman +has manifested, and continues to manifest! + +Oh! no! it cannot be!--And why can't it be?--The reason is evident: she +has no wilful errors to look back upon with self-reproach--and her mind +is strengthened by the consolations which flow from that religious +rectitude which has been the guide of all her actions; and which has +taught her rather to choose to be a sufferer than an aggressor! + +This was the support of the divine Socrates, as thou hast read. When led +to execution, his wife lamenting that he should suffer being innocent, +Thou fool, said he, wouldst thou wish me to be guilty! + + + +LETTER XLIX + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +FRIDAY, SEPT. 1. + + +How astonishing, in the midst of such affecting scenes, is thy mirth on +what thou callest my own aspirations! Never, surely, was there such +another man in this world, thy talents and thy levity taken together!-- +Surely, what I shall send thee with this will affect thee. If not, +nothing can, till thy own hour come: and heavy will then thy reflections +be! + +I am glad, however, that thou enablest me to assure the lady that thou +wilt no more molest her; that is to say, in other words, that, after +having ruined her fortunes, and all her worldly prospects, thou wilt be +so gracious, as to let her lie down and die in peace. + +Thy giving up to poor Belton's sister the little legacy, and thy +undertaking to make Mowbray and Tourville follow thy example, are, I must +say to thy honour, of a piece with thy generosity to thy Rose-bud and her +Johnny; and to a number of other good actions in pecuniary matters: +although thy Rose-bud's is, I believe, the only instance, where a pretty +woman was concerned, of such a disinterested bounty. + +Upon my faith, Lovelace, I love to praise thee; and often and often, as +thou knowest, have I studied for occasions to do it: insomuch that when, +for the life of me, I could not think of any thing done by thee that +deserved praise, I have taken pains to applaud the not ungraceful manner +in which thou hast performed actions that merited the gallows. + +Now thou art so near, I will dispatch my servant to thee, if occasion +requires. But, I fear, I shall soon give thee the news thou art +apprehensive of. For I am just now sent for by Mrs. Smith; who has +ordered the messenger to tell me, that she knew not if the lady will be +alive when I come. + + +FRIDAY, SEPT. 1, TWO O'CLOCK, AT SMITH'S. + +I could not close my letter in such an uncertainty as must have added to +your impatience. For you have, on several occasions, convinced me, that +the suspense you love to give would be the greatest torment to you that +you could receive. A common case with all aggressive and violent +spirits, I believe. I will just mention then (your servant waiting here +till I have written) that the lady has had two very severe fits: in the +last of which whilst she lay, they sent to the doctor and Mr. Goddard, +who both advised that a messenger should be dispatched for me, as her +executor; being doubtful whether, if she had a third, it would not carry +her off. + +She was tolerably recovered by the time I cane; and the doctor made her +promise before me, that, while she was so weak, she would not attempt any +more to go abroad; for, by Mrs. Lovick's description, who attended her, +the shortness of her breath, her extreme weakness, and the fervour of her +devotions when at church, were contraries, which, pulling different ways +(the soul aspiring, the body sinking) tore her tender frame in pieces. + +So much for the present. I shall detain Will. no longer than just to beg +that you will send me back this packet and the last. Your memory is so +good, that once reading is all you ever give, or need to give, to any +thing. And who but ourselves can make out our characters, were you +inclined to let any body see what passes between us? If I cannot be +obliged, I shall be tempted to withhold what I write, till I have time to +take a copy of it.* + + +* It may not be amiss to observe, that Mr. Belford's solicitude to get +back his letters was owing to his desire of fulfilling the lady's wishes +that he would furnish Miss Howe with materials to vindicate her memory. + + +A letter from Miss Howe is just now brought by a particular messenger, +who says he must carry back a few lines in return. But, as the lady is +just retired to lie down, the man is to call again by-and-by. + + + +LETTER L + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +UXBRIDGE, SEPT. 1, TWELVE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. + + +I send you the papers with this. You must account to me honestly and +fairly, when I see you, for the earnestness with which you write for +them. And then also will we talk about the contents of your last +dispatch, and about some of your severe and unfriendly reflections. + +Mean time, whatever thou dost, don't let the wonderful creature leave us! +Set before her the sin of her preparation, as if she thought she could +depart when she pleased. She'll persuade herself, at this rate, that she +has nothing to do, when all is ready, but to lie down, and go to sleep: +and such a lively fancy as her's will make a reality of a jest at any +time. + +A jest I call all that has passed between her and me; a mere jest to die +for--For has not her triumph over me, from first to last, been infinitely +greater than her sufferings from me? + +Would the sacred regard I have for her purity, even for her personal as +well as intellectual purity, permit, I could prove this as clear as the +sun. Tell, therefore, the dear creature that she must not be wicked in +her piety. There is a too much, as well as too little, even in +righteousness. Perhaps she does not think of that.--Oh! that she would +have permitted my attendance, as obligingly as she does of thine!--The +dear soul used to love humour. I remember the time that she knew how to +smile at a piece of apropos humour. And, let me tell thee, a smile upon +the lips, or a sparkling in the eye, must have had its correspondent +cheerfulness in a heart so sincere as her's. + +Tell the doctor I will make over all my possessions, and all my +reversions, to him, if he will but prolong her life for one twelvemonth +to come. But for one twelvemonth, Jack!--He will lose all his reputation +with me, and I shall treat him as Belton did his doctor, if he cannot do +this for me, on so young a subject. But nineteen, Belford!--nineteen +cannot so soon die of grief, if the doctor deserve that title; and so +blooming and so fine a constitution as she had but three or four months +ago! + +But what need the doctor to ask her leave to write to her friends? Could +he not have done it without letting her know any thing of the matter? +That was one of the likeliest means that could be thought of to bring +some of them about her, since she is so desirous to see them. At least +it would have induced them to send up her favourite Norton. But these +plaguy solemn fellows are great traders in parade. They'll cram down +your throat their poisonous drugs by wholesale, without asking you a +question; and have the assurance to own it to be prescribing: but when +they are to do good, they are to require your consent. + +How the dear creature's character rises in every line of thy letters! +But it is owing to the uncommon occasions she has met with that she +blazes out upon us with such a meridian lustre. How, but for those +occasions, could her noble sentiments, her prudent consideration, her +forgiving spirit, her exalted benevolence, and her equanimity in view of +the most shocking prospects (which set her in a light so superior to all +her sex, and even to the philosophers of antiquity) have been manifested? + +I know thou wilt think I am going to claim some merit to myself, for +having given her such opportunities of signalizing her virtues. But I am +not; for, if I did, I must share that merit with her implacable +relations, who would justly be entitled to two-thirds of it, at least: +and my soul disdains a partnership in any thing with such a family. + +But this I mention as an answer to thy reproaches, that I could be so +little edified by perfections, to which, thou supposest, I was for so +long together daily and hourly a personal witness--when, admirable as she +was in all she said, and in all she did, occasion had not at that time +ripened, and called forth, those amazing perfections which now astonish +and confound me. + +Hence it is that I admire her more than ever; and that my love for her is +less personal, as I may say, more intellectual, than ever I thought it +could be to a woman. + +Hence also it is that I am confident (would it please the Fates to spare +her, and make her mine) I could love her with a purity that would draw on +my own FUTURE, as well as ensure her TEMPORAL, happiness.--And hence, by +necessary consequence, shall I be the most miserable of all men, if I am +deprived of her. + +Thou severely reflectest upon me for my levity: the Abbey instance in +thine eye, I suppose. And I will be ingenuous enough to own, that as +thou seest not my heart, there may be passages, in every one of my +letters, which (the melancholy occasion considered) deserve thy most +pointed rebukes. But faith, Jack, thou art such a tragi-comical mortal, +with thy leaden aspirations at one time, and thy flying hour-glasses and +dreaming terrors at another, that, as Prior says, What serious is, thou +turn'st to farce; and it is impossible to keep within the bounds of +decorum or gravity when one reads what thou writest. + +But to restrain myself (for my constitutional gayety was ready to run +away with me again) I will repeat, I must ever repeat, that I am most +egregiously affected with the circumstances of the case: and, were this +paragon actually to quit the world, should never enjoy myself one hour +together, though I were to live to the age of Methusalem. + +Indeed it is to this deep concern, that my levity is owing: for I +struggle and struggle, and try to buffet down my cruel reflections as +they rise; and when I cannot, I am forced, as I have often said, to try +to make myself laugh, that I may not cry; for one or other I must do: and +is it not philosophy carried to the highest pitch, for a man to conquer +such tumults of soul as I am sometimes agitated by, and, in the very +height of the storm, to be able to quaver out an horse-laugh? + +Your Seneca's, your Epictetus's, and the rest of your stoical tribe, with +all their apathy nonsense, could not come up to this. They could forbear +wry faces: bodily pains they could well enough seem to support; and that +was all: but the pangs of their own smitten-down souls they could not +laugh over, though they could at the follies of others. They read grave +lectures; but they were grave. This high point of philosophy, to laugh +and be merry in the midst of the most soul-harrowing woes, when the +heart-strings are just bursting asunder, was reserved for thy Lovelace. + +There is something owing to constitution, I own; and that this is the +laughing-time of my life. For what a woe must that be, which for an hour +together can mortify a man six or seven and twenty, in high blood and +spirits, of a naturally gay disposition, who can sing, dance, and +scribble, and take and give delight in them all?--But then my grief, as +my joy, is sharper-pointed than most other men's; and, like what Dolly +Welby once told me, describing the parturient throes, if there were not +lucid intervals, if they did not come and go, there would be no bearing +them. + + +*** + + +After all, as I am so little distant from the dear creature, and as she +is so very ill, I think I cannot excuse myself from making her one visit. +Nevertheless, if I thought her so near--[what word shall I use, that my +soul is not shocked at!] and that she would be too much discomposed by a +visit, I would not think of it.--Yet how can I bear the recollection, +that, when she last went from me (her innocence so triumphant over my +premeditated guilt, as was enough to reconcile her to life, and to set +her above the sense of injuries so nobly sustained, that) she should then +depart with an incurable fracture in her heart; and that that should be +the last time I should ever see her!--How, how, can I bear this +reflection! + +O Jack! how my conscience, that gives edge even to thy blunt reflections, +tears me!--Even this moment would I give the world to push the cruel +reproacher from me by one ray of my usual gayety!--Sick of myself!--sick +of the remembrance of my vile plots; and of my light, my momentary +ecstacy [villanous burglar, felon, thief, that I was!] which has brought +on me such durable and such heavy remorse! what would I give that I had +not been guilty of such barbarous and ungrateful perfidy to the most +excellent of God's creatures! + +I would end, methinks, with one sprightlier line!--but it will not be.-- +Let me tell thee then, and rejoice at it if thou wilt, that I am + +Inexpressibly miserable! + + + +LETTER LI + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +SAT. MORNING, SEPT. 2. + + +I have some little pleasure given me by thine, just now brought me. I +see now that thou hast a little humanity left. Would to Heaven, for the +dear lady's sake, as well as for thy own, that thou hadst rummaged it up +from all the dark forgotten corners of thy soul a little sooner! + +The lady is alive, and serene, and calm, and has all her noble intellects +clear and strong: but nineteen will not however save her. She says she +will now content herself with her closet duties, and the visits of the +parish-minister; and will not attempt to go out. Nor, indeed, will she, +I am afraid, ever walk up or down a pair of stairs again. + +I am sorry at my soul to have this to say: but it would be a folly to +flatter thee. + +As to thy seeing her, I believe the least hint of that sort, now, would +cut off some hours of her life. + +What has contributed to her serenity, it seems, is, that taking the alarm +her fits gave her, she has entirely finished, and signed and sealed, her +last will: which she had deferred till this time, in hopes, as she said, +of some good news from Harlowe-place; which would have induced her to +alter some passages in it. + +Miss Howe's letter was not given her till four in the afternoon, +yesterday; at which time the messenger returned for an answer. She +admitted him into her presence in the dining-room, ill as she then was, +and she would have written a few lines, as desired by Miss Howe; but, not +being able to hold a pen, she bid the messenger tell her that she hoped +to be well enough to write a long letter by the next day's post; and +would not now detain him. + + +*** + + +SATURDAY, SIX IN THE AFTERNOON. + +I called just now, and found the lady writing to Miss Howe. She made me +a melancholy compliment, that she showed me not Miss Howe's letter, +because I should soon have that and all her papers before me. But she +told me that Miss Howe had very considerably obviated to Colonel Morden +several things which might have occasioned misapprehensions between him +and me; and had likewise put a lighter construction, for the sake of +peace, on some of your actions than they deserved. + +She added, that her cousin Morden was warmly engaged in her favour with +her friends: and one good piece of news Miss Howe's letter contained, +that her father would give up some matters, which (appertaining to her of +right) would make my executorship the easier in some particulars that had +given her a little pain. + +She owned she had been obliged to leave off (in the letter she was +writing) through weakness. + +Will. says he shall reach you to-night. I shall send in the morning; +and, if I find her not worse, will ride to Edgware, and return in the +afternoon. + + + +LETTER LII + +MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +TUESDAY, AUG. 29. + + +MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +We are at length returned to our own home. I had intended to wait on you +in London: but my mother is very ill--Alas! my dear, she is very ill +indeed--and you are likewise very ill--I see that by your's of the 25th-- +What shall I do, if I lose two such near, and dear, and tender friends? +She was taken ill yesterday at our last stage in our return home--and has +a violent surfeit and fever, and the doctors are doubtful about her. + +If she should die, how will all my pertnesses to her fly in my face!-- +Why, why, did I ever vex her? She says I have been all duty and +obedience!--She kindly forgets all my faults, and remembers every thing I +have been so happy as to oblige her in. And this cuts me to the heart. + +I see, I see, my dear, that you are very bad--and I cannot bear it. Do, +my beloved Miss Harlowe, if you can be better, do, for my sake, be +better; and send me word of it. Let the bearer bring me a line. Be sure +you send me a line. If I lose you, my more than sister, and lose my +mother, I shall distrust my own conduct, and will not marry. And why +should I?--Creeping, cringing in courtship!--O my dear, these men are a +vile race of reptiles in our day, and mere bears in their own. See in +Lovelace all that is desirable in figure, in birth, and in fortune: but +in his heart a devil!--See in Hickman--Indeed, my dear, I cannot tell +what any body can see in Hickman, to be always preaching in his favour. +And is it to be expected that I, who could hardly bear control from a +mother, should take it from a husband?--from one too, who has neither +more wit, nor more understanding, than myself? yet he to be my +instructor!--So he will, I suppose; but more by the insolence of his will +than by the merit of his counsel. It is in vain to think of it. I +cannot be a wife to any man breathing whom I at present know. This I the +rather mention now, because, on my mother's danger, I know you will be +for pressing me the sooner to throw myself into another sort of +protection, should I be deprived of her. But no more of this subject, or +indeed of any other; for I am obliged to attend my mamma, who cannot bear +me out of her sight. + + +*** + + +WEDNESDAY, AUG. 30. + +My mother, Heaven be praised! has had a fine night, and is much better. +Her fever has yielded to medicine! and now I can write once more with +freedom and ease to you, in hopes that you also are better. If this be +granted to my prayers, I shall again be happy, I write with still the +more alacrity as I have an opportunity given me to touch upon a subject +in which you are nearly concerned. + +You must know then, my dear, that your cousin Morden has been here with +me. He told me of an interview he had on Monday at Lord M.'s with +Lovelace; and asked me abundance of questions about you, and about that +villanous man. + +I could have raised a fine flame between them if I would: but, observing +that he is a man of very lively passions, and believing you would be +miserable if any thing should happen to him from a quarrel with a man who +is known to have so many advantages at his sword, I made not the worst of +the subjects we talked of. But, as I could not tell untruths in his +favour, you must think I said enough to make him curse the wretch. + +I don't find, well as they all used to respect Colonel Morden, that he +has influence enough upon them to bring them to any terms of +reconciliation. + +What can they mean by it!--But your brother is come home, it seems: so, +the honour of the house, the reputation of the family, is all the cry! + +The Colonel is exceedingly out of humour with them all. Yet has he not +hitherto, it seems, seen your brutal brother.--I told him how ill you +were, and communicated to him some of the contents of your letter. He +admired you, cursed Lovelace, and raved against all your family.--He +declared that they were all unworthy of you. + +At his earnest request, I permitted him to take some brief notes of such +of the contents of your letter to me as I thought I could read to him; +and, particularly, of your melancholy conclusion.* + + +* See Letter XXXII. of this volume. + + +He says that none of your friends think you are so ill as you are; nor +will believe it. He is sure they all love you; and that dearly too. + +If they do, their present hardness of heart will be the subject of +everlasting remorse to them should you be taken from us--but now it seems +[barbarous wretches!] you are to suffer within an inch of your life. + +He asked me questions about Mr. Belford: and, when he had heard what I +had to say of that gentleman, and his disinterested services to you, he +raved at some villanous surmises thrown out against you by that officious +pedant, Brand: who, but for his gown, I find, would come off poorly enough +between your cousin and Lovelace. + +He was so uneasy about you himself, that on Thursday, the 24th, he sent +up an honest serious man,* one Alston, a gentleman farmer, to inquire of +your condition, your visiters, and the like; who brought him word that +you was very ill, and was put to great straits to support yourself: but +as this was told him by the gentlewoman of the house where you lodge, +who, it seems, mingled it with some tart, though deserved, reflections +upon your relations' cruelty, it was not credited by them: and I myself +hope it cannot be true; for surely you could not be so unjust, I will +say, to my friendship, as to suffer any inconveniencies for want of +money. I think I could not forgive you, if it were so. + + +* See Letter XXIII. ibid. + + +The Colonel (as one of your trustees) is resolved to see you put into +possession of your estate: and, in the mean time, he has actually engaged +them to remit to him for you the produce of it accrued since your +grandfather's death, (a very considerable sum;) and proposes himself to +attend you with it. But, by a hint he dropt, I find you had disappointed +some people's littleness, by not writing to them for money and supplies; +since they were determined to distress you, and to put you at defiance. + +Like all the rest!--I hope I may say that without offence. + +Your cousin imagines that, before a reconciliation takes place, they will +insist that you make such a will, as to that estate, as they shall +approve of: but he declares that he will not go out of England till he +has seen justice done you by every body; and that you shall not be +imposed on either by friend or foe-- + +By relation or foe, should he not have said?--for a friend will not +impose upon a friend. + +So, my dear, you are to buy your peace, if some people are to have their +wills! + +Your cousin [not I, my dear, though it was always my opinion*] says, that +the whole family is too rich to be either humble, considerate, or +contented. And as for himself, he has an ample fortune, he says, and +thinks of leaving it wholly to you. + + +* See Vol. I. Letter X. + + +Had this villain Lovelace consulted his worldly interest only, what a +fortune would he have had in you, even although your marrying him had +deprived you of a paternal share! + +I am obliged to leave off here. But having a good deal still more to +write, and my mother better, I will pursue the subject in another letter, +although I send both together. I need not say how much I am, and will +ever be, + +Your affectionate, &c. +ANNA HOWE. + + + +LETTER LIII + +MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +THURSDAY, AUGUST 31. + + +The Colonel thought fit once, in praise of Lovelace's generosity, to say, +that (as a man of honour ought) he took to himself all the blame, and +acquitted you of the consequences of the precipitate step you had taken; +since he said, as you loved him, and was in his power, he must have had +advantages which he would not have had, if you had continued at your +father's, or at any friend's. + +Mighty generous, I said, (were it as he supposed,) in such insolent +reflectors, the best of them; who pretend to clear reputations which +never had been sullied but by falling into their dirty acquaintance! but +in this case, I averred, that there was no need of any thing but the +strictest truth, to demonstrate Lovelace to be the blackest of villains, +you the brightest of innocents. + +This he catched at; and swore, that if any thing uncommon or barbarous in +the seduction were to come out, as indeed one of the letters you had +written to your friends, and which had been shown him, very strongly +implied; that is to say, my dear, if any thing worse than perjury, breach +of faith, and abuse of a generous confidence, were to appear! [sorry +fellows!] he would avenge his cousin to the utmost. + +I urged your apprehensions on this head from your last letter to me: but +he seemed capable of taking what I know to be real greatness of soul, in +an unworthy sense: for he mentioned directly upon it the expectations +your friends had, that you should (previous to any reconciliation with +them) appear in a court of justice against the villain--IF you could do +it with the advantage to yourself that I hinted might be done. + +And truly, if I would have heard him, he had indelicacy enough to have +gone into the nature of the proof of the crime upon which they wanted to +have Lovelace arraigned. Yet this is a man improved by travel and +learning!--Upon my word, my dear, I, who have been accustomed to the most +delicate conversation ever since I had the honour to know you, despise +this sex from the gentleman down to the peasant. + +Upon the whole, I find that Mr. Morden has a very slender notion of +women's virtue in particular cases: for which reason I put him down, +though your favourite, as one who is not entitled to cast the first +stone. + +I never knew a man who deserved to be well thought of himself for his +morals, who had a slight opinion of the virtue of our sex in general. +For if, from the difference of temperament and education, modesty, +chastity, and piety too, are not to be found in our sex preferably to +the other, I should think it a sign of much worse nature in ours. + +He even hinted (as from your relations indeed) that it is impossible +but there most be some will where there is much love. + +These sort of reflections are enough to make a woman, who has at heart +her own honour and the honour of her sex, to look about her, and consider +what she is doing when she enters into an intimacy with these wretches; +since it is plain, that whenever she throws herself into the power of a +man, and leaves for him her parents or guardians, every body will believe +it to be owing more to her good luck than to her discretion if there be +not an end of her virtue: and let the man be ever such a villain to her, +she must take into her own bosom a share of his guilty baseness. + +I am writing to general cases. You, my dear, are out of the question. +Your story, as I have heretofore said, will afford a warning as well as +an example:* For who is it that will not infer, that if a person of your +fortune, character, and merit, could not escape ruin, after she had put +herself into the power of her hyæna, what can a thoughtless, fond, giddy +creature expect? + + +* See Vol. IV. Letter XXIII. + + +Every man, they will say, is not a LOVELACE--True: but then, neither is +every woman a CLARISSA. And allow for the one and for the other the +example must be of general use. + +I prepared Mr. Morden to expect your appointment of Mr. Belford for an +office that we both hope he will have no occasion to act in (nor any body +else) for many, very many years to come. He was at first startled at it: +but, upon hearing such of your reasons as had satisfied me, he only said +that such an appointment, were it to take place, would exceedingly affect +his other cousins. + +He told me, he had a copy of Lovelace's letter to you, imploring your +pardon, and offering to undergo any penance to procure it;* and also of +your answer to it.** + + +* See Vol. VII. Letter LXXIX. +** Ibid. Letter LXXXIII. + + +I find he is willing to hope that a marriage between you may still take +place; which, he says, will heal up all breaches. + +I would have written much more--on the following particulars especially; +to wit, of the wretched man's hunting you out of your lodgings: of your +relations' strange implacableness, [I am in haste, and cannot think of a +word you would like better just now:] of your last letter to Lovelace, to +divert him from pursuing you: of your aunt Hervey's penitential +conversation with Mrs. Norton: of Mr. Wyerley's renewed address: of your +lessons to me in Hickman's behalf, so approvable, were the man more so +than he is; but indeed I am offended with him at this instant, and have +been for these two days: of your sister's transportation-project: and of +twenty and twenty other things: but am obliged to leave off, to attend my +two cousins Spilsworth, and my cousin Herbert, who are come to visit us +on account of my mother's illness--I will therefore dispatch these by +Rogers; and if my mother gets well soon (as I hope she will) I am +resolved to see you in town, and tell you every thing that now is upon my +mind; and particularly, mingling my soul with your's, how much I am, and +will ever be, my dearest, dear friend, + +Your affectionate +ANNA HOWE. + +Let Rogers bring one line, I pray you. I thought to have sent him this + afternoon; but he cannot set out till to-morrow morning early. + +I cannot express how much your staggering lines and your conclusion + affect me! + + + +LETTER LIV + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +SUNDAY EVENING, SEPT. 3. + + +I wonder not at the impatience your servant tells me you express to hear +from me. I was designing to write you a long letter, and was just +returned from Smith's for that purpose; but, since you are urgent, you +must be contented with a short one. + +I attended the lady this morning, just before I set out for Edgware. She +was so ill over-night, that she was obliged to leave unfinished her +letter to Miss Howe. But early this morning she made an end of it, and +just sealed it up as I came. She was so fatigued with writing, that she +told me she would lie down after I was gone, and endeavour to recruit her +spirits. + +They had sent for Mr. Goddard, when she was so ill last night; and not +being able to see him out of her own chamber, he, for the first time, saw +her house, as she calls it. He was extremely shocked and concerned at +it; and chid Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick for not persuading her to have +such an object removed form her bed-chamber: and when they excused +themselves on the little authority it was reasonable to suppose they must +have with a lady so much their superior, he reflected warmly on those who +had more authority, and who left her to proceed with such a shocking and +solemn whimsy, as he called it. + +It is placed near the window, like a harpsichord, though covered over to +the ground: and when she is so ill that she cannot well go to her closet, +she writes and reads upon it, as others would upon a desk or table. But +(only as she was so ill last night) she chooses not to see any body in +that apartment. + +I went to Edgware; and, returning in the evening, attended her again. +She had a letter brought her from Mrs. Norton (a long one, as it seems by +its bulk,) just before I came. But she had not opened it; and said, that +as she was pretty calm and composed, she was afraid to look into the +contents, lest she should be ruffled; expecting now to hear of nothing +that could do her good or give her pleasure from that good woman's dear +hard-hearted neighbours, as she called her own relations. + +Seeing her so weak and ill, I withdrew; nor did she desire me to tarry, +as sometimes she does, when I make a motion to depart. + +I had some hints, as I went away, from Mrs. Smith, that she had +appropriated that evening to some offices, that were to save trouble, as +she called it, after her departure; and had been giving orders to her +nurse, and to Mrs. Lovick, and Mrs. Smith, about what she would have done +when she was gone; and I believe they were of a very delicate and +affecting nature; but Mrs. Smith descended not to particulars. + +The doctor had been with her, as well as Mr. Goddard; and they both +joined with great earnestness to persuade her to have her house removed +out of her sight; but she assured them that it gave her pleasure and +spirits; and, being a necessary preparation, she wondered they should be +surprised at it, when she had not any of her family about her, or any old +acquaintance, on whose care and exactness in these punctilios, as she +called them, she could rely. + +The doctor told Mrs. Smith, that he believed she would hold out long +enough for any of her friends to have notice of her state, and to see +her; and hardly longer; and since he could not find that she had any +certainty of seeing her cousin Morden, (which made it plain that her +relations continued inflexible,) he would go home, and write a letter to +her father, take it as she would. + +She had spent great part of the day in intense devotions; and to-morrow +morning she is to have with her the same clergyman who has often attended +her; from whose hands she will again receive the sacrament. + +Thou seest, Lovelace, that all is preparing, that all will be ready; and +I am to attend her to-morrow afternoon, to take some instructions from +her in relation to my part in the office to be performed for her. And +thus, omitting the particulars of a fine conversation between her and +Mrs. Lovick, which the latter acquainted me with, as well as another +between her and the doctor and apothecary, which I had a design this +evening to give you, they being of a very affecting nature, I have +yielded to your impatience. + + I shall dispatch Harry to-morrow morning early with her letter to Miss + Howe: an offer she took very kindly; as she is extremely + solicitous to lessen that young lady's apprehensions for her on + not hearing from her by Saturday's post: and yet, if she write + truth, as no doubt but she will, how can her apprehensions be + lessened? + + + +LETTER LV + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE +SATURDAY, SEPT. 2. + + +I write, my beloved Miss Howe, though very ill still: but I could not by +the return of your messenger; for I was then unable to hold a pen. + +Your mother's illness (as mentioned in the first part of your letter,) +gave me great distress for you, till I read farther. You bewailed it as +became a daughter so sensible. May you be blessed in each other for +many, very many years to come! I doubt not, that even this sudden and +grievous indisposition, by the frame it has put you in, and the +apprehension it has given you of losing so dear a mother, will contribute +to the happiness I wish you: for, alas! my dear, we seldom know how to +value the blessings we enjoy, till we are in danger of losing them, or +have actually lost them: and then, what would we give to have them +restored to us! + +What, I wonder, has again happened between you and Mr. Hickman? Although +I know not, I dare say it is owing to some petty petulance, to some +half-ungenerous advantage taken of his obligingness and assiduity. Will +you never, my dear, give the weight you and all our sex ought to give to +the qualities of sobriety and regularity of life and manners in that sex? +Must bold creatures, and forward spirits, for ever, and by the best and +wisest of us, as well as by the indiscreetest, be the most kindly +treated? + +My dear friends know not that I have actually suffered within less than +an inch of my life. + +Poor Mr. Brand! he meant well, I believe. I am afraid all will turn +heavily upon him, when he probably imagined that he was taking the best +method to oblige. But were he not to have been so light of belief, and +so weakly officious; and had given a more favourable, and, it would be +strange if I could not say, a juster report; things would have been, +nevertheless, exactly as they are. + +I must lay down my pen. I am very ill. I believe I shall be better +by-and-by. The bad writing would betray me, although I had a mind to +keep from you what the event must soon-- + + +*** + + +Now I resume my trembling pen. Excuse the unsteady writing. It will +be so-- + +I have wanted no money: so don't be angry about such a trifle as money. +Yet I am glad of what you inclined me to hope, that my friends will give +up the produce of my grandfather's estate since it has been in their +hands: because, knowing it to be my right, and that they could not want +it, I had already disposed of a good part of it; and could only hope they +would be willing to give it up at my last request. And now how rich +shall I think myself in this my last stage!--And yet I did not want +before--indeed I did not--for who, that has many superfluities, can be +said to want! + +Do not, my dear friend, be concerned that I call it my last stage; For +what is even the long life which in high health we wish for? What, but, +as we go along, a life of apprehension, sometimes for our friends, +oftener for ourselves? And at last, when arrived at the old age we +covet, one heavy loss or deprivation having succeeded another, we see +ourselves stript, as I may say, of every one we loved; and find ourselves +exposed, as uncompanionable poor creatures, to the slights, to the +contempts, of jostling youth, who want to push us off the stage, in hopes +to possess what we have:--and, superadded to all, our own infirmities +every day increasing: of themselves enough to make the life we wished for +the greatest disease of all! Don't you remember the lines of Howard, +which once you read to me in my ivy-bower?* + + +* These are the lines the lady refers to: + + From death we rose to life: 'tis but the same, + Through life to pass again from whence we came. + With shame we see our PASSIONS can prevail, + Where reason, certainty, and virtue fail. + HONOUR, that empty name, can death despise; | + SCORN'D LOVE to death, as to a refuge, flies; | + And SORROW waits for death with longing eyes. | + HOPE triumphs o'er the thoughts of death; and FATE + Cheats fools, and flatters the unfortunate. + We fear to lose, what a small time must waste, + Till life itself grows the disease at last. + Begging for life, we beg for more decay, + And to be long a dying only pray. + + +In the disposition of what belongs to me, I have endeavoured to do every +thing in the justest and best manner I could think of; putting myself in +my relations' places, and, in the greater points, ordering my matters as +if no misunderstanding had happened. + +I hope they will not think much of some bequests where wanted, and where +due from my gratitude: but if they should, what is done, is done; and I +cannot now help it. Yet I must repeat, that I hope, I hope, I have +pleased every one of them. For I would not, on any account, have it +thought that, in my last disposition, any thing undaughterly, unsisterly, +or unlike a kinswoman, should have had place in a mind that is a truly +free (as I will presume to say) from all resentment, that it now +overflows with gratitude and blessings for the good I have received, +although it be not all that my heart wished to receive. Were it even an +hardship that I was not favoured with more, what is it but an hardship +of half a year, against the most indulgent goodness of eighteen years and +an half, that ever was shown to a daughter? + +My cousin, you tell me, thinks I was off my guard, and that I was taken +at some advantage. Indeed, my dear, I was not. Indeed I gave no room +for advantage to be taken of me. I hope, one day, that will be seen, if +I have the justice done me which Mr. Belford assures me of. + +I should hope that my cousin has not taken the liberties which you (by an +observation not, in general, unjust) seem to charge him with. For it is +sad to think, that the generality of that sex should make so light of +crimes, which they justly hold so unpardonable in their own most intimate +relations of our's--yet cannot commit them without doing such injuries to +other families as they think themselves obliged to resent unto death, +when offered to their own. + +But we women are too often to blame on this head; since the most virtuous +among us seldom make virtue the test of their approbation of the other +sex; insomuch that a man may glory in his wickedness of this sort without +being rejected on that account, even to the faces of women of +unquestionable virtue. Hence it is, that a libertine seldom thinks +himself concerned so much as to save appearances: And what is it not that +our sex suffers in their opinion on this very score? And what have I, +more than many others, to answer for on this account in the world's eye? + +May my story be a warning to all, how they prefer a libertine to a man of +true honour; and how they permit themselves to be misled (where they mean +the best) by the specious, yet foolish hope of subduing riveted habits, +and, as I may say, of altering natures!--The more foolish, as constant +experience might convince us, that there is hardly one in ten, of even +tolerably happy marriages, in which the wife keeps the hold in the +husband's affections, which she had in the lover's. What influence then +can she hope to have over the morals of an avowed libertine, who marries +perhaps for conveniency, who despises the tie, and whom, it is too +probable, nothing but old age, or sickness, or disease, (the consequence +of ruinous riot,) can reclaim? + +I am very glad you gave my cous-- + + +SUNDAY MORNING, SEPT. 3, SIX O'CLOCK. + +Hither I had written, and was forced to quit my pen. And so much weaker +and worse I grew, that had I resumed it, to have closed here, it must +have been with such trembling unsteadiness, that it would have given you +more concern for me, than the delay of sending it away by last night's +post can do. I deferred it, therefore, to see how it would please God to +deal with me. And I find myself, after a better night than I expected, +lively and clear; and hope to give a proof that I do, in the continuation +of my letter, which I will pursue as currently as if I had not left off. + +I am glad that you so considerately gave my cousin Morden favourable +impressions of Mr. Belford; since, otherwise, some misunderstanding might +have happened between them: for although I hope this Mr. Belford is an +altered man, and in time will be a reformed one, yet is he one of those +high spirits that has been accustomed to resent imaginary indignities to +himself, when, I believe, he has not been studious to avoid giving real +offences to others; men of this cast acting as if they thought all the +world was made to bar with them, and they with nobody in it. + +Mr. Lovelace, you tell me, thought fit to intrust my cousin with the copy +of his letter of penitence to me, and with my answer to it, rejecting him +and his suit: and Mr. Belford, moreover, acquaints me, how much concerned +Mr. Lovelace is for his baseness, and how freely he accused himself to my +cousin. This shows, that the true bravery of spirit is to be above doing +a vile action; and that nothing subjects the human mind to so much +meanness, as the consciousness of having done wilful wrong to our fellow +creatures. How low, how sordid, are the submissions which elaborate +baseness compels! that that wretch could treat me as he did, and then +could so poorly creep to me for forgiveness of crimes so wilful, so +black, and so premeditated! how my soul despised him for his meanness on +a certain occasion, of which you will one day be informed!* and him whose +actions one's heart despises, it is far from being difficult to reject, +had one ever so partially favoured him once. + + +* Meaning his meditated second violence (See Vol. VI. Letter XXXVI.) and +his succeeding letters to her, supplicating for her pardon. + + +Yet am I glad this violent spirit can thus creep; that, like a poisonous +serpent, he can thus coil himself, and hide his head in his own narrow +circlets; because this stooping, this abasement, gives me hope that no +farther mischief will ensue. + +All my apprehension is, what may happen when I am gone; lest then my +cousin, or any other of my family, should endeavour to avenge me, and +risk their own more precious lives on that account. + +If that part of Cain's curse were Mr. Lovelace's, to be a fugitive and +vagabond in the earth; that is to say, if it meant no more harm to him +than that he should be obliged to travel, as it seems he intends, (though +I wish him no ill in his travels;) and I could know it; then should I be +easy in the hoped-for safety of my friends from his skilful violence--Oh! +that I could hear he was a thousand miles off! + +When I began this letter, I did not think I could have run to such a +length. But 'tis to YOU, my dearest friend, and you have a title to the +spirits you raise and support; for they are no longer mine, and will +subside the moment I cease writing to you. + +But what do you bid me hope for, when you tell me that, if your mother's +health will permit, you will see me in town? I hope your mother's health +will be perfected as you wish; but I dare not promise myself so great a +favour; so great a blessing, I will call it--and indeed I know not if I +should be able to bear it now! + +Yet one comfort it is in your power to give me; and that is, let me know, +and very speedily it must be, if you wish to oblige me, that all matters +are made up between you and Mr. Hickman; to whom, I see, you are +resolved, with all your bravery of spirit, to owe a multitude of +obligations for his patience with your flightiness. Think of this, my +dear proud friend! and think, likewise, of what I have often told you, +that PRIDE, in man or woman, is an extreme that hardly ever fails, sooner +or later, to bring forth its mortifying CONTRARY. + +May you, my dear Miss Howe, have no discomforts but what you make to +yourself! as it will be in your own power to lessen such as these, they +ought to be your punishment if you do not. There is no such thing as +perfect happiness here, since the busy mind will make to itself evils, +were it to find none. You will, therefore, pardon this limited wish, +strange as it may appear, till you consider it: for to wish you no +infelicity, either within or without you, were to wish you what can never +happen in this world; and what perhaps ought not to be wished for, if by +a wish one could give one's friend such an exemption; since we are not to +live here always. + +We must not, in short, expect that our roses will grow without thorns: +but then they are useful and instructive thorns: which, by pricking the +fingers of the too-hasty plucker, teach future caution. And who knows +not that difficulty gives poignancy to our enjoyments; which are apt to +lose their relish with us when they are over easily obtained? + +I must conclude-- + +God for ever bless you, and all you love and honour, and reward you here +and hereafter for your kindness to + +Your ever obliged and affectionate +CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER LVI + +MRS. NORTON, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +[IN ANSWER TO HER'S OF THURSDAY, AUGUST 24. SEE LETTER XXX. OF THIS +VOLUME.] +THURSDAY, AUG. 31. + + +I had written sooner, my dearest young lady, but that I have been +endeavouring, ever since the receipt of your last letter, to obtain a +private audience of your mother, in hopes of leave to communicate it to +her. But last night I was surprised by an invitation to breakfast at +Harlowe-place this morning; and the chariot came early to fetch me--an +honour I did not expect. + +When I came, I found there was to be a meeting of all your family with +Col. Morden, at Harlowe-place; and it was proposed by your mother, and +consented to, that I should be present. Your cousin, I understand, had +with difficulty brought this meeting to bear; for your brother had before +industriously avoided all conversation with him on the affecting subject; +urging that it was not necessary to talk to Mr. Morden upon it, who, +being a remoter relation than themselves, had no business to make himself +a judge of their conduct to their daughter, their niece, and their +sister; especially as he had declared himself in her favour; adding, that +he should hardly have patience to be questioned by Mr. Morden on that +head. + +I was in hopes that your mother would have given me an opportunity of +talking with her alone before the company met; but she seemed studiously +to avoid it; I dare say, however, not with her inclination. + +I was ordered in just before Mr. Morden came; and was bid to sit down-- +which I did in the window. + +The Colonel, when he came, began the discourse, by renewing, as he called +it, his solicitations in your favour. He set before them your penitence; +your ill health; your virtue, though once betrayed, and basely used; he +then read to them Mr. Lovelace's letter, a most contrite one indeed,* and +your high-souled answer;** for that was what he justly called it; and he +treated as it deserved Mr. Brand's officious information, (of which I had +before heard he had made them ashamed,) by representations founded upon +inquiries made by Mr. Alston,*** whom he had procured to go up on purpose +to acquaint himself with your manner of life, and what was meant by the +visits of that Mr. Belford. + + +* See Vol. VII. LXXIX. +** Ibid. Letter LXXXIII. +*** See Vol. VIII. Letter XXIII. + + +He then told them, that he had the day before waited upon Miss Howe, and +had been shown a letter from you to her,* and permitted to take some +memorandums from it, in which you appeared, both by handwriting, and the +contents, to be so very ill, that it seemed doubtful to him, if it were +possible for you to get over it. And when he read to them that passage, +where you ask Miss Howe, 'What can be done for you now, were your friends +to be ever so favourable? and wish for their sakes, more than for your +own, that they would still relent;' and then say, 'You are very ill--you +must drop your pen--and ask excuse for your crooked writing; and take, as +it were, a last farewell of Miss Howe;--adieu, my dear, adieu,' are your +words-- + + +* Ibid. Letter XXXIII. + + +O my child! my child! said you mamma, weeping, and clasping her hands. + +Dear Madam, said your brother, be so good as to think you have more +children than this ungrateful one. + +Yet your sister seemed affected. + +Your uncle Harlowe, wiping his eyes, O cousin, said he, if one thought +the poor girl was really so ill-- + +She must, said your uncle Antony. This is written to her private friend. +God forbid she should be quite lost! + +Your uncle Harlowe wished they did not carry their resentments too far. + +I begged for God's sake, wringing my hands, and with a bended knee, that +they would permit me to go up to you; engaging to give them a faithful +account of the way you were in. But I was chidden by your brother; and +this occasioned some angry words between him and Mr. Morden. + +I believe, Sir, I believe, Madam, said your sister to her father and +mother, we need not trouble my cousin to read any more. It does but +grieve and disturb you. My sister Clary seems to be ill: I think, if +Mrs. Norton were permitted to go up to her, it would be right; wickedly +as she has acted, if she be truly penitent-- + +Here she stopt; and every one being silent, I stood up once more, and +besought them to let me go; and then I offered to read a passage or two +in your letter to me of the 24th. But I was taken up again by your +brother, and this occasioned still higher words between the Colonel and +him. + +Your mother, hoping to gain upon your inflexible brother, and to divert +the anger of the two gentlemen from each other, proposed that the Colonel +should proceed in reading the minutes he had taken from your letter. + +He accordingly read, 'of your resuming your pen; that you thought you had +taken your last farewell; and the rest of that very affecting passage, in +which you are obliged to break off more than once, and afterwards to take +an airing in a chair.' Your brother and sister were affected at this; +and he had recourse to his snuff-box. And where you comfort Miss Howe, +and say, 'You shall be happy;' It is more, said he, than she will let any +body else be. + +Your sister called you sweet soul! but with a low voice: then grew +hard-hearted again; set said [sic], Nobody could help being affected by +your pathetic grief--but that it was your talent. + +The Colonel then went on to the good effect your airing had upon you; to +your good wishes to Miss Howe and Mr. Hickman; and to your concluding +sentence, that when the happy life you wished to her comes to be wound +up, she may be as calm and as easy at quitting it, as you hope in God you +shall be. Your mother could not stand this; but retired to a corner of +the room, and sobbed, and wept. Your father for a few minutes could not +speak, though he seemed inclined to say something. + +Your uncles were also both affected; but your brother went round to each, +and again reminded your mother that she had other children.--What was +there, he said, in what was read, but the result of the talent you had of +moving the passions? And he blamed them for choosing to hear read what +they knew their abused indulgence could not be a proof against. + +This set Mr. Morden up again--Fie upon you, Cousin Harlowe, said he, I +see plainly to whom it is owing that all relationship and ties of blood, +with regard to this sweet sufferer, are laid aside. Such rigours as +these make it difficult for a sliding virtue ever to recover itself. + +Your brother pretended the honour of the family; and declared, that no +child ought to be forgiven who abandoned the most indulgent of parents +against warning, against the light of knowledge, as you had done. + +But, Sir, and Ladies, said I, rising from the seat in the window, and +humbly turning round to each, if I may be permitted to speak, my dear +Miss asks only for a blessing. She does not beg to be received to +favour; she is very ill, and asks only for a last blessing. + +Come, come, good Norton, [I need not tell you who said this,] you are +up again with your lamentables!--A good woman, as you are, to forgive +so readily a crime, that has been as disgraceful to your part in her +education as to her family, is a weakness that would induce one to +suspect your virtue, if you were to be encountered by a temptation +properly adapted. + +By some such charitable logic, said Mr. Morden, as this, is my cousin +Arabella captivated, I doubt not. If virtue, you, Mr. James Harlowe, +are the most virtuous young man in the world. + +I knew how it would be, replied your brother, in a passion, if I met Mr. +Morden upon this business. I would have declined it; but you, Sir, to +his father, would not permit me to do so. + +But, Sir, turning to the Colonel, in no other presence---- + +Then, Cousin James, interrupted the other gentleman, that which is your +protection, it seems, is mine. I am not used to bear defiances thus-- +you are my Cousin, Sir, and the son and nephew of persons as dear as near +to me--There he paused-- + +Are we, said your father, to be made still more unhappy among ourselves, +when the villain lives that ought to be the object of every one's +resentment who has either a value for the family, or for this ungrateful +girl? + +That's the man, said your cousin, whom last Monday, as you know, I went +purposely to make the object of mine. But what could I say, when I found +him so willing to repair his crime?--And I give it as my opinion, and +have written accordingly to my poor cousin, that it is best for all round +that his offer should be accepted; and let me tell you-- + +Tell me nothing, said your father, quite enraged, or that very vile +fellow! I have a rivetted hatred to him. I would rather see the rebel +die an hundred deaths, were it possible, than that she should give such a +villain as him a relation to my family. + +Well, but there is no room to think, said you mother, that she will give +us such a relation, my dear. The poor girl will lessen, I fear, the +number of our relations not increase it. If she be so ill as we are told +she is, let us send Mrs. Norton up to her.--That's the least we can do-- +let us take her, however, out of the hands of that Belford. + +Both your uncles supported this motion; the latter part of it especially. + +Your brother observed, in his ill-natured way, what a fine piece of +consistency it was in you to refuse the vile injurer, and the amends he +offered; yet to throw yourself upon the protection of his fast friend. + +Miss Harlowe was apprehensive, she said, that you would leave all you +could leave to that pert creature, Miss Howe, [so she called her,] if you +should die. + +O do not, do not suppose that, my Bella, said your poor mother. I cannot +think of parting with my Clary--with all her faults, she is my child--her +reasons for her conduct are not heard--it would break my heart to lose +her.--I think, my dear, to your father, none so fit as I to go up, if you +will give me leave, and Mrs. Norton shall accompany me. + +This was a sweet motion, and your father paused upon it. Mr. Morden +offered his service to escort her; your uncles seemed to approve of it; +but your brother dashed all. I hope, Sir, said he, to his father--I +hope, Madam, to his mother--that you will not endeavour to recover a +faulty daughter by losing an unculpable son. I do declare, that if ever +my sister Clary darkens these doors again, I never will. I will set out, +Madam, the same hour you go to London, (on such an errand,) to Edinburgh; +and there I will reside, and try to forget that I have relations in +England, so near and so dear as you are now all to me. + +Good God, said the Colonel, what a declaration is this! And suppose, +Sir, and suppose, Madam, [turning to your father and mother,] this should +be the case, whether it is better, think you, that you should lose for +ever such a daughter as my cousin Clary, or that your son should go to +Edinburgh, and reside there upon an estate which will be the better for +his residence upon it?-- + +Your brother's passionate behaviour hereupon is hardly to be described. +He resented it as promising an alienation of the affection of the family +to him. And to such an height were resentments carried, every one siding +with him, that the Colonel, with hands and eyes lifted up, cried out, +What hearts of flint am I related to!--O, Cousin Harlowe, to your father, +are you resolved to have but one daughter?--Are you, Madam, to be taught, +by a son, who has no bowels, to forget you are a mother? + +The Colonel turned from them to draw out his handkerchief, and could not +for a minute speak. The eyes of every one, but the hard-hearted brother, +caught tears from his. + +But then turning to them, (with the more indignation, as it seemed, as he +had been obliged to show a humanity, which, however, no brave heart +should be ashamed of,) I leave ye all, said he, fit company for one +another. I will never open my lips to any of you more upon this subject. +I will instantly make my will, and in me shall the dear creature have the +father, uncle, brother, she has lost. I will prevail upon her to take +the tour of France and Italy with me; nor shall she return till ye know +the value of such a daughter. + +And saying this, he hurried out of the room, went into the court-yard, +and ordered his horse. + +Mr. Antony Harlowe went to him there, just as he was mounting, and said +he hoped he should find him cooler in the evening, (for he, till then, +had lodged at his house,) and that then they would converse calmly, and +every one, mean time, would weigh all matters well.--But the angry +gentleman said, Cousin Harlowe, I shall endeavour to discharge the +obligations I owe to your civility since I have been in England; but I +have been so treated by that hot-headed young man, (who, as far as I +know, has done more to ruin his sister than Lovelace himself, and this +with the approbation of you all,) that I will not again enter into your +doors, or theirs. My servants shall have orders whither to bring what +belongs to me from your house. I will see my dear cousin Clary as soon +as I can. And so God bless you altogether!--only this one word to your +nephew, if you please--That he wants to be taught the difference between +courage and bluster; and it is happy for him, perhaps, that I am his +kinsman; though I am sorry he is mine. + +I wondered to hear your uncle, on his return to them all, repeat this; +because of the consequences it may be attended with, though I hope it +will not have bad ones; yet it was considered as a sort of challenge, and +so it confirmed every body in your brother's favour; and Miss Harlowe +forgot not to inveigh against that error which had brought on all these +evils. + +I took the liberty again, but with fear and trembling, to desire leave to +attend you. + +Before any other person could answer, your brother said, I suppose you +look upon yourself, Mrs. Norton, to be your own mistress. Pray do you +want our consents and courtship to go up?--If I may speak my mind, you +and my sister Clary are the fittest to be together.--Yet I wish you would +not trouble your head about our family matters, till you are desired to +do so. + +But don't you know, brother, said Miss Harlowe, that the error of any +branch of a family splits that family into two parties, and makes not +only every common friend and acquaintance, but even servants judges over +both?--This is one of the blessed effects of my sister Clary's fault! + +There never was a creature so criminal, said your father, looking with +displeasure at me, who had not some weak heads to pity and side with her. + +I wept. Your mother was so good as to take me by the hand; come, good +woman, said she, come along with me. You have too much reason to be +afflicted with what afflicts us, to want additions to your grief. + +But, my dearest young lady, I was more touched for your sake than for my +own; for I have been low in the world for a great number of years; and, +of consequence, have been accustomed to snubs and rebuffs from the +affluent. But I hope that patience is written as legibly on my forehead, +as haughtiness on that of any of my obligers. + +Your mother led me to her chamber; and there we sat and wept together for +several minutes, without being able to speak either of us one word to the +other. At last she broke silence, asking me, if you were really and +indeed so ill as it was said you were? + +I answered in the affirmative; and would have shown her your last letter; +but she declined seeing it. + +I would fain have procured from her the favour of a line to you, with her +blessing. I asked, what was intended by your brother and sister? Would +nothing satisfy them but your final reprobation?--I insinuated, how easy +it would be, did not your duty and humility govern you, to make yourself +independent as to circumstances; but that nothing but a blessing, a last +blessing, was requested by you. And many other things I urged in your +behalf. The following brief repetition of what she was pleased to say in +answer to my pleas, will give you a notion of it all; and of the present +situation of things. + +She said, 'She was very unhappy!--She had lost the little authority she +once had over her other children, through one child's failing! and all +influence over Mr. Harlowe and his brothers. Your father, she said, had +besought her to leave it to him to take his own methods with you; and, +(as she valued him,) to take no step in your favour unknown to him and +your uncles; yet she owned, that they were too much governed by your +brother. They would, however, give way in time, she knew, to a +reconciliation--they designed no other, for they all still loved you. + +'Your brother and sister, she owned, were very jealous of your coming +into favour again;--yet could but Mr. Morden have kept his temper, and +stood her son's first sallies, who (having always had the family grandeur +in view) had carried his resentment so high, that he knew not how to +descend, the conferences, so abruptly broken off just now, would have +ended more happily; for that she had reason to think that a few +concessions on your part, with regard to your grandfather's estate, and +your cousin's engaging for your submission as from proper motives, would +have softened them all. + +'Mr. Brand's account of your intimacy with the friend of the obnoxious +man, she said, had, for the time very unhappy effects; for before that +she had gained some ground: but afterwards dared not, nor indeed had +inclination, to open her lips in your behalf. Your continued intimacy +with that Mr. Belford was wholly unaccountable, and as wholly +inexcusable. + +'What made the wished-for reconciliation, she said, more difficult, was, +first, that you yourself acknowledged yourself dishonoured; (and it was +too well known, that it was your own fault that you ever were in the +power of so great a profligate;) of consequence, that their and your +disgrace could not be greater than it was; yet, that you refuse to +prosecute the wretch. Next, that the pardon and blessing hoped for must +probably be attended with your marriage to the man they hate, and who +hates them as much: very disagreeable circumstances, she said, I must +allow, to found a reconciliation upon. + +'As to her own part, she must needs say, that if there were any hope that +Mr. Lovelace would become a reformed man, the letter her cousin Morden +had read to them from him to you, and the justice (as she hoped it was) +he did your character, though to his own condemnation, (his family and +fortunes being unexceptionable,) and all his relations earnest to be +related to you, were arguments that would weigh with her, could they have +any with your father and uncles.' + +To my plea of your illness, 'she could not but flatter herself, she +answered, that it was from lowness of spirits, and temporary dejection. +A young creature, she said, so very considerate as you naturally were, +and fallen so low, must have enough of that. Should they lose you, which +God forbid! the scene would then indeed be sadly changed; for then those +who now most resented, would be most grieved; all your fine qualities +would rise to their remembrance, and your unhappy error would be quite +forgotten. + +'She wished you would put yourself into your cousin's protection +entirely, and have nothing to more to say to Mr. Belford. + +And I would recommend it to your most serious consideration, my dear Miss +Clary, whether now, as your cousin (who is your trustee for your +grandfather's estate,) is come, you should not give over all thoughts of +Mr. Lovelace's intimate friend for your executor; more especially, as +that gentleman's interfering in the concerns of your family, should the +sad event take place (which my heart aches but to think of) might be +attended with those consequences which you are so desirous, in other +cases, to obviate and prevent. And suppose, my dear young lady, you were +to write one letter more to each of your uncles, to let them know how ill +you are?--And to ask their advice, and offer to be governed by it, in +relation to the disposition of your estate and effects?--Methinks I wish +you would. + +I find they will send you up a large part of what has been received from +that estate since it was your's; together with your current cash which +you left behind you: and this by your cousin Morden, for fear you should +have contracted debts which may make you uneasy. + +They seem to expect, that you will wish to live at your grandfather's +house, in a private manner, if your cousin prevail not upon you to go +abroad for a year or two. + + +FRIDAY MORNING. + +Betty was with me just now. She tells me, that your cousin Morden is so +much displeased with them all, that he has refused to lodge any more at +your uncle Antony's; and has even taken up with inconvenient lodgings, +till he is provided with others to his mind. This very much concerns +them; and they repent their violent treatment of him: and the more, as he +is resolved, he says, to make you his sole executrix, and heir to all his +fortune. + +What noble fortunes still, my dearest young lady, await you! I am +thoroughly convinced, if it please God to preserve your life and your +health, that every body will soon be reconciled to you, and that you will +see many happy days. + +Your mother wished me not to attend you as yet, because she hopes that I +may give myself that pleasure soon with every body's good liking, and +even at their desire. Your cousin Morden's reconciliation with them, +which they are very desirous of, I am ready to hope will include theirs +with you. + +But if that should happen which I so much dread, and I not with you, I +should never forgive myself. Let me, therefore, my dearest young lady, +desire you to command my attendance, if you find any danger, and if you +wish me peace of mind; and no consideration shall withhold me. + +I hear that Miss Howe has obtained leave from her mother to see you; and +intends next week to go to town for that purpose; and (as it is believed) +to buy clothes for her approaching nuptials. + +Mr. Hickman's mother-in-law is lately dead. Her jointure of 600£. a-year +is fallen to him; and she has, moreover, as an acknowledgement of his +good behaviour to her, left him all she was worth, which was very +considerable, a few legacies excepted to her own relations. + +These good men are uniformly good: indeed could not else be good; and +never fare the worse for being so. All the world agrees he will make +that fine young lady an excellent husband: and I am sorry they are not as +much agreed in her making him an excellent wife. But I hope a woman of +her principles would not encourage his address, if, whether she at +present love him or not, she thought she could not love him; or if she +preferred any other man to him. + +Mr. Pocock undertakes to deliver this; but fears it will be Saturday +night first, if not Sunday morning. + +May the Almighty protect and bless you!--I long to see you--my dearest +young lady, I long to see you; and to fold you once more to my fond +heart. I dare to say happy days are coming. Be but cheerful. Give way +to hope. + +Whether for this world, or the other, you must be happy. Wish to live, +however, were it only because you are so well fitted in mind to make +every one happy who has the honour to know you. What signifies this +transitory eclipse? You are as near perfection, by all I have heard, +as any creature in this world can be: for here is your glory--you are +brightened and purified, as I may say, by your sufferings!--How I long to +hear your whole sad, yet instructive story, from your own lips! + +For Miss Howe's sake, who, in her new engagements will so much want you; +for your cousin Morden's sake, for your mother's sake, if I must go on +farther in your family; and yet I can say, for all their sakes; and for +my sake, my dearest Miss Clary; let your resumed and accustomed +magnanimity bear you up. You have many things to do which I know not the +person who will do if you leave us. + +Join your prayers then to mine, that God will spare you to a world that +wants you and your example; and, although your days may seem to have been +numbered, who knows but that, with the good King Hezekiah, you may have +them prolonged? Which God grant, if it be his blessed will, to the +prayers of + +Your +JUDITH NORTON + + + +LETTER LVII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +MONDAY, SEPT. 4. + + +The lady would not read the letter she had from Mrs. Norton till she had +received the Communion, for fear it should contain any thing that might +disturb that happy calm, which she had been endeavouring to obtain for +it. And when that solemn office was over, she was so composed, she said, +that she thought she could receive any news, however affecting, with +tranquillity. + +Nevertheless, in reading it, she was forced to leave off several times +through weakness and a dimness in her sight, of which she complained; if +I may say complained; for so easy and soft were her complaints, that they +could hardly be called such. + +She was very much affected at divers parts of this letter. She wept +several times, and sighed often. Mrs. Lovick told me, that these were +the gentle exclamations she broke out into, as she read:--Her unkind, her +cruel brother!--How unsisterly!--Poor dear woman! seeming to speak of +Mrs. Norton. Her kind cousin!--O these flaming spirits! And then +reflecting upon herself more than once--What a deep error is mine!--What +evils have I been the occasion of!-- + +When I was admitted to her presence, I have received, said she, a long +and not very pleasing letter from my dear Mrs. Norton. It will soon be +in your hands. I am advised against appointing you to the office you +have so kindly accepted of: but you must resent nothing of these things. +My choice will have an odd appearance to them: but it is now too late to +alter it, if I would. + +I would fain write an answer to it, continued she: but I have no distinct +sight, Mr. Belford, no steadiness of fingers.--This mistiness, however, +will perhaps be gone by-and-by.--Then turning to Mrs. Lovick, I don't +think I am dying yet--not actually dying, Mrs. Lovick--for I have no +bodily pain--no numbnesses; no signs of immediate death, I think.--And my +breath, which used of late to be so short, is now tolerable--my head +clear, my intellects free--I think I cannot be dying yet--I shall have +agonies, I doubt--life will not give up so blessedly easy, I fear--yet +how merciful is the Almighty, to give his poor creature such a sweet +serenity!--'Tis what I have prayed for!--What encouragement, Mrs. Lovick, +so near one's dissolution, to have it to hope that one's prayers are +answered. + +Mrs. Smith, as well as Mrs. Lovick, was with her. They were both in +tears; nor had I, any more than they, power to say a word in answer: yet +she spoke all this, as well as what follows, with a surprising composure +of mind and countenance. + +But, Mr. Belford, said she, assuming a still sprightlier air and accent, +let me talk a little to you, while I am thus able to say what I have to +say. + +Mrs. Lovick, don't leave us, [for the women were rising to go,] pray sit +down; and do you, Mrs. Smith, sit down too.--Dame Shelbourne, take this +key, and open the upper drawer. I will move to it. + +She did, with trembling knees. Here, Mr. Belford, is my will. It is +witnessed by three persons of Mr. Smith's acquaintance. + +I dare to hope, that my cousin Morden will give you assistance, if you +request it of him. My cousin Morden continued his affection for me: but +as I have not seen him, I leave all the trouble upon you, Mr. Belford. +This deed may want forms; and it does, no doubt: but the less, as I have +my grandfather's will almost by heart, and have often enough heard that +canvassed. I will lay it by itself in this corner; putting it at the +further end of the drawer. + +She then took up a parcel of letters, enclosed in one cover, sealed with +three seals of black wax: This, said she, I sealed up last night. The +cover, Sir, will let you know what is to be done with what it encloses. +This is the superscription [holding it close to her eyes, and rubbing +them]; As soon as I am certainly dead, this to be broke open by Mr. +Belford.--Here, Sir, I put it [placing it by the will].--These folded +papers are letters, and copies of letters, disposed according to their +dates. Miss Howe will do with those as you and she shall think fit. +If I receive any more, or more come when I cannot receive them, they may +be put into this drawer, [pulling out and pushing in the looking-glass +drawer,] to be given to Mr. Belford, be they from whom they will. You'll +be so kind as to observe that, Mrs. Lovick, and dame Shelbourne. + +Here, Sir, proceeded she, I put the keys of my apparel [putting them into +the drawer with her papers]. All is in order, and the inventory upon +them, and an account of what I have disposed of: so that nobody need to +ask Mrs. Smith any questions. + +There will be no immediate need to open or inspect the trunks which +contain my wearing apparel. Mrs. Norton will open them, or order +somebody to do it for her, in your presence, Mrs. Lovick; for so I have +directed in my will. They may be sealed up now: I shall never more have +occasion to open them. + +She then, though I expostulated with her to the contrary, caused me to +seal them up with my seal. + +After this, she locked up the drawer where were her papers; first taking +out her book of meditations, as she called it; saying, she should, +perhaps, have use for that; and then desired me to take the key of that +drawer; for she should have no further occasion for that neither. + +All this in so composed and cheerful a manner, that we were equally +surprised and affected with it. + +You can witness for me, Mrs. Smith, and so can you, Mrs. Lovick, +proceeded she, if any one ask after my life and conversation, since you +have known me, that I have been very orderly; have kept good hours; and +never have lain out of your house but when I was in prison; and then you +know I could not help it. + +O, Lovelace! that thou hadst heard her or seen her, unknown to herself, +on this occasion!--Not one of us could speak a word. + +I shall leave the world in perfect charity, proceeded she. And turning +towards the women, don't be so much concerned for me, my good friends. +This is all but needful preparation; and I shall be very happy. + +Then again rubbing her eyes, which she said were misty, and looked more +intently round upon each, particularly on me--God bless you all! said +she; how kindly are you concerned for me!--Who says I am friendless? Who +says I am abandoned, and among strangers?--Good Mr. Belford, don't be so +generously humane!--Indeed [putting her handkerchief to her charming +eyes,] you will make me less happy, than I am sure you wish me to be. + +While we were thus solemnly engaged, a servant came with a letter from +her cousin Morden:--Then, said she, he is not come himself! + +She broke it open; but every line, she said, appeared two to her: so +that, being unable to read it herself, she desired I would read it to +her. I did so; and wished it were more consolatory to her: but she was +all patient attention: tears, however, often trickling down her cheeks. +By the date, it was written yesterday; and this is the substance of it. + +He tells her, 'That the Thursday before he had procured a general meeting +of her principal relations, at her father's; though not without +difficulty, her haughty brother opposing it, and, when met, rendering all +his endeavours to reconcile them to her ineffectual. He censures him, as +the most ungovernable young man he ever knew: some great sickness, he +says, some heavy misfortune, is wanted to bring him to a knowledge of +himself, and of what is due from him to others; and he wishes that he +were not her brother, and his cousin. Nor doe he spare her father and +uncles for being so implicitly led by him.' + +He tells her, 'That he parted with them all in high displeasure, and +thought never more to darken any of their doors: that he declared as much +to her two uncles, who came to him on Saturday, to try to accommodate +with him; and who found him preparing to go to London to attend her; and +that, notwithstanding their pressing entreaties, he determined so to do, +and not to go with them to Harlowe-place, or to either of their own +houses; and accordingly dismissed them with such an answer. + +'But that her noble letter,' as he calls it, of Aug. 31,* 'being brought +him about an hour after their departure, he thought it might affect them +as much as it did him; and give them the exalted opinion of her virtue +which was so well deserved; he therefore turned his horse's head back +to her uncle Antony's, instead of forwards toward London. + + +* See Letter XLV. of this volume. + + +'That accordingly arriving there, and finding her two uncles together, he +read to them the affecting letter; which left none of the three a dry +eye: that the absent, as is usual in such cases, bearing all the load, +they accused her brother and sister; and besought him to put off his +journey to town, till he could carry with him the blessings which she had +formerly in vain solicited for; and (as they hoped) the happy tidings of +a general reconciliation. + +'That not doubting but his visit would be the more welcome to her, if +these good ends could be obtained, he the more readily complied with +their desires. But not being willing to subject himself to the +possibility of receiving fresh insult from her brother, he had given her +uncles a copy of her letter, for the family to assemble upon; and desired +to know, as soon as possible, the result of their deliberations. + +'He tells her, that he shall bring her up the accounts relating to the +produce of her grandfather's estate, and adjust them with her; having +actually in his hands the arrears due to her from it. + +'He highly applauds the noble manner in which she resents your usage of +her. It is impossible, he owns, that you can either deserve her, or to +be forgiven. But as you do justice to her virtue, and offer to make her +all the reparation now in your power; and as she is so very earnest with +him not to resent that usage; and declares, that you could not have been +the author of her calamities but through a strange concurrence of unhappy +causes; and as he is not at a loss to know how to place to a proper +account that strange concurrence; he desires her not to be apprehensive +of any vindictive measures from him.' + +Nevertheless (as may be expected) 'he inveighs against you; as he finds +that she gave you no advantage over her. But he forbears to enter +further into this subject, he says, till he has the honour to see her; +and the rather, as she seems so much determined against you. However, he +cannot but say, that he thinks you a gallant man, and a man of sense; and +that you have the reputation of being thought a generous man in every +instance but where the sex is concerned. In such, he owns, that you have +taken inexcusable liberties. And he is sorry to say, that there are very +few young men of fortune but who allow themselves in the same. Both +sexes, he observes, too much love to have each other in their power: yet +he hardly ever knew man or woman who was very fond of power make a right +use of it. + +'If she be so absolutely determined against marrying you, as she declares +she is, he hopes, he says, to prevail upon her to take (as soon as her +health will permit) a little tour abroad with him, as what will probably +establish it; since traveling is certainly the best physic for all those +disorders which owe their rise to grief or disappointment. An absence of +two or three years will endear her to every one, on her return, and every +one to her. + +'He expresses his impatience to see her. He will set out, he says, the +moment he knows the result of her family's determination; which, he +doubts not, will be favourable. Nor will he wait long for that.' + +When I had read the letter through to the languishing lady, And so, my +friends, said she, have I heard of a patient who actually died, while +five or six principal physicians were in a consultation, and not agreed +upon what name to give his distemper. The patient was an emperor, the +emperor Joseph, I think. + +I asked, if I should write to her cousin, as he knew not how ill she was, +to hasten up? + +By no means, she said; since, if he were not already set out, she was +persuaded that she should be so low by the time he could receive my +letter, and come, that his presence would but discompose and hurry her, +and afflict him. + +I hope, however, she is not so very near her end. And without saying any +more to her, when I retired, I wrote to Colonel Morden, that if he +expects to see his beloved cousin alive, he must lose no time in setting +out. I sent this letter by his own servant. + +Dr. H. sent away his letter to her father by a particular hand this +morning. + +Mrs. Walton the milliner has also just now acquainted Mrs. Smith, that +her husband had a letter brought by a special messenger from Parson +Brand, within this half hour, enclosing the copy of one he had written to +Mr. John Harlowe, recanting his officious one. + +And as all these, and the copy of the lady's letter to Col. Morden, will +be with them pretty much at a time, the devil's in the family if they are +not struck with a remorse that shall burst open the double-barred doors +of their hearts. + +Will. engages to reach you with this (late as it will be) before you go +to rest. He begs that I will testify for him the hour and the minute I +shall give it him. It is just half an hour after ten. + +I pretend to be (now by use) the swiftest short-hand writer in England, +next to yourself. But were matter to arise every hour to write upon, and +I had nothing else to do, I cannot write so fast as you expect. And let +it be remembered, that your servants cannot bring letters or messages +before they are written or sent. + + + +LETTER LVIII + +DR. H. TO JAMES HARLOWE, SENIOR, ESQ. +LONDON, SEPT. 4. + + +SIR, + +If I may judge of the hearts of other parents by my own, I cannot doubt +but you will take it well to be informed that you have yet an opportunity +to save yourself and family great future regret, by dispatching hither +some one of it with your last blessing, and your lady's, to the most +excellent of her sex. + +I have some reason to believe, Sir, that she has been represented to you +in a very different light from the true one. And this it is that induces +me to acquaint you, that I think her, on the best grounds, absolutely +irreproachable in all her conduct which has passed under my eye, or come +to my ear; and that her very misfortunes are made glorious to her, and +honourable to all that are related to her, by the use she has made of +them; and by the patience and resignation with which she supports herself +in a painful, lingering, and dispiriting decay! and by the greatness of +mind with which she views her approaching dissolution. And all this from +proper motives; from motives in which a dying saint might glory. + +She knows not that I write. I must indeed acknowledge, that I offered to +do so some days ago, and that very pressingly: nor did she refuse me from +obstinacy--she seemed not to know what that is--but desired me to forbear +for two days only, in hopes that her newly-arrived cousin, who, as she +heard, was soliciting for her, would be able to succeed in her favour. + +I hope I shall not be thought an officious man on this occasion; but, if +I am, I cannot help it, being driven to write, by a kind of parental and +irresistible impulse. + +But, Sir, whatever you think fit to do, or permit to be done, must be +speedily done; for she cannot, I verily think, live a week: and how long +of that short space she may enjoy her admirable intellects to take +comfort in the favours you may think proper to confer upon her cannot be +said. I am, Sir, + +Your most humble servant, + +R.H. + + + +LETTER LIX + +MR. BELFORD, TO WILLIAM MORDEN, ESQ. +LONDON, SEPT. 4. + + +SIR, + +The urgency of the case, and the opportunity by your servant, will +sufficiently apologize for this trouble from a stranger to your person, +who, however, is not a stranger to your merit. + +I understand you are employing your good offices with the parents of +Miss Clarissa Harlowe, and other relations, to reconcile them to the most +meritorious daughter and kinswoman that ever family had to boast of. + +Generously as this is intended by you, we here have too much reason to +think all your solicitudes on this head will be unnecessary: for it is +the opinion of every one who has the honour of being admitted to her +presence, that she cannot live over three days: so that, if you wish to +see her alive, you must lose no time to come up. + +She knows not that I write. I had done it sooner, if I had had the least +doubt that before now she would not have received from you some news of +the happy effects of your kind mediation in her behalf. I am, Sir, + +Your most humble servant, +J. BELFORD. + + + +LETTER LX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +[IN ANSWER TO LETTER LVII.] +UXBRIDGE, TUESDAY MORN, BETWEEN 4 AND 5. + + +And can it be, that this admirable creature will so soon leave this +cursed world! For cursed I shall think it, and more cursed myself, when +she is gone. O, Jack! thou who canst sit so cool, and, like Addison's +Angel, direct, and even enjoy, the storm, that tears up my happiness by +the roots; blame me not for my impatience, however unreasonable! If thou +knowest, that already I feel the torments of the damned, in the remorse +that wrings my heart, on looking back upon my past actions by her, thou +wouldst not be the devil thou art, to halloo on a worrying conscience, +which, without my merciless aggravations, is altogether intolerable. + +I know not what to write, nor what I would write. When the company that +used to delight me is as uneasy to me as my reflections are painful, and +I can neither help nor divert myself, must not every servant about me +partake in a perturbation so sincere! + +Shall I give thee a faint picture of the horrible uneasiness with which +my mind struggles? And faint indeed it must be; for nothing but +outrageous madness can exceed it; and that only in the apprehension of +others; since, as to the sufferer, it is certain, that actual distraction +(take it out of its lucid intervals) must be an infinitely more happy +state than the state of suspense and anxiety, which often brings it on. + +Forbidden to attend the dear creature, yet longing to see her, I would +give the world to be admitted once more to her beloved presence. I ride +towards London three or four times a day, resolving pro and con, twenty +times in two or three miles; and at last ride back; and, in view of +Uxbridge, loathing even the kind friend, and hospitable house, turn my +horse's head again towards the town, and resolve to gratify my humour, +let her take it as she will; but, at the very entrance of it, after +infinite canvassings, once more alter my mind, dreading to offend and +shock her, lest, by that means, I should curtail a life so precious. + +Yesterday, in particular, to give you an idea of the strength of that +impatience, which I cannot avoid suffering to break out upon my servants, +I had no sooner dispatched Will., than I took horse to meet him on his +return. + +In order to give him time, I loitered about on the road, riding up this +lane to the one highway, down that to the other, just as my horse +pointed; all the way cursing my very being; and though so lately looking +down upon all the world, wishing to change conditions with the poorest +beggar that cried to me for charity as I rode by him--and throwing him +money, in hopes to obtain by his prayers the blessing my heart pants +after. + +After I had sauntered about an hour or two, (which seemed three or four +tedious ones,) fearing I had slipt the fellow, I inquired at every +turnpike, whether a servant in such a livery had not passed through in +his return from London, on a full gallop; for woe had been to the dog, +had I met him on a sluggish trot! And lest I should miss him at one end +of Kensingtohn, as he might take either the Acton or Hammersmith road; or +at the other, as he might come through the Park, or not; how many score +times did I ride backwards and forwards from the Palace to the Gore, +making myself the subject of observation to all passengers whether on +horseback or on foot; who, no doubt, wondered to see a well-dressed and +well-mounted man, sometimes ambling, sometimes prancing, (as the beast +had more fire than his master) backwards and forwards in so short a +compass! + +Yet all this time, though longing to espy the fellow, did I dread to meet +him, lest he should be charged with fatal tidings. + +When at distance I saw any man galloping towards me, my +resemblance-forming fancy immediately made it to be him; and then my +heart choked me. But when the person's nearer approach undeceived me, +how did I curse the varlet's delay, and thee, by turns! And how ready +was I to draw my pistol at the stranger, for having the impudence to +gallop; which none but my messenger, I thought, had either right or +reason to do! For all the business of the world, I am ready to imagine, +should stand still on an occasion so melancholy and so interesting to me. +Nay, for this week past, I could cut the throat of any man or woman I see +laugh, while I am in such dejection of mind. + +I am now convinced that the wretches who fly from a heavy scene, labour +under ten times more distress in the intermediate suspense and +apprehension, than they could have, were they present at it, and to see +and know the worst: so capable is fancy or imagination, the more +immediate offspring of the soul, to outgo fact, let the subject be either +joyous or grievous. + +And hence, as I conceive, it is, that all pleasures are greater in the +expectation, or in the reflection, than in fruition; as all pains, which +press heavy upon both parts of that unequal union by which frail +mortality holds its precarious tenure, are ever most acute in the time of +suffering: for how easy sit upon the reflection the heaviest misfortunes, +when surmounted!--But most easy, I confess, those in which body has more +concern than soul. This, however, is a point of philosophy I have +neither time nor head just now to weigh: so take it as it falls from a +madman's pen. + +Woe be to either of the wretches who shall bring me the fatal news that +she is no more! For it is but too likely that a shriek-owl so hated will +never hoot or scream again; unless the shock, that will probably disorder +my whole frame on so sad an occasion, (by unsteadying my hand,) shall +divert my aim from his head, heart, or bowels, if it turn not against my +own. + +But, surely, she will not, she cannot yet die! Such a matchless +excellence, + + ----whose mind + Contains a world, and seems for all things fram'd, + +could not be lent to be so soon demanded back again! + +But may it not be, that thou, Belford, art in a plot with the dear +creature, (who will not let me attend her to convince myself,) in order +to work up my soul to the deepest remorse; and that, when she is +convinced of the sincerity of my penitence, and when my mind is made such +wax, as to be fit to take what impression she pleases to give it, she +will then raise me up with the joyful tidings of her returning health and +acceptance of me! + +What would I give to have it so! And when the happiness of hundreds, as +well as the peace and reconciliation of several eminent families, depend +upon her restoration and happiness, why should it not be so? + +But let me presume it will. Let me indulge my former hope, however +improbable--I will; and enjoy it too. And let me tell thee how ecstatic +my delight would be on the unravelling of such a plot as this! + +Do, dear Belford, let it be so!--And, O, my dearest, and ever-dear +Clarissa, keep me no loner in this cruel suspense; in which I suffer a +thousand times more than ever I made thee suffer. Nor fear thou that I +will resent, or recede, on an ecclaircissement so desirable; for I will +adore thee for ever, and without reproaching thee for the pangs thou hast +tortured me with, confess thee as much my superior in virtue and honour! + +But once more, should the worst happen--say not what that worst is--and I +am gone from this hated island--gone for ever--and may eternal--but I am +crazed already--and will therefore conclude myself, + +Thine more than my own, +(and no great compliment neither) +R.L. + + + +LETTER LXI + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +TUES. SEPT. 9 IN THE MORN. AT MR. SMITH'S. + + +When I read yours of this morning, I could not help pitying you for the +account you give of the dreadful anxiety and suspense you labour under. +I wish from my heart all were to end as you are so willing to hope: but +it will not be; and your suspense, if the worst part of your torment, as +you say it is, will soon be over; but, alas! in a way you wish not. + +I attended the lady just now. She is extremely ill: yet is she aiming +at an answer to her Norton's letter, which she began yesterday in her own +chamber, and has written a good deal: but in a hand not like her own fine +one, as Mrs. Lovick tells me, but larger, and the lines crooked. + +I have accepted of the offer of a room adjoining to the widow Lovick's, +till I see how matters go; but unknown to the lady; and I shall go home +every night, for a few hours. I would not lose a sentence that I could +gain from lips so instructive, nor the opportunity of receiving any +command from her, for an estate. + +In this my new apartment I now write, and shall continue to write, as +occasions offer, that I may be the more circumstantial: but I depend upon +the return of my letters, or copies of them, on demand, that I may have +together all that relates to this affecting story; which I shall +re-peruse with melancholy pleasure to the end of my life. + +I think I will send thee Brand's letter to Mr. John Harlowe, recanting +his base surmises. It is a matchless piece of pedantry; and may perhaps +a little divert thy deep chagrin: some time hence at least it may, if not +now. + +What wretched creatures are there in the world! What strangely mixed +creatures!--So sensible and so silly at the same time! What a various, +what a foolish creature is man!-- + + +THREE O'CLOCK. + +The lady has just finished her letter, and has entertained Mrs. Lovick, +Mrs. Smith, and me, with a noble discourse on the vanity and brevity of +life, to which I cannot do justice in the repetition: and indeed I am so +grieved for her, that, ill as she is, my intellects are not half so clear +as her's. + +A few things which made the strongest impression upon me, as well from +the sentiments themselves as from her manner of uttering them, I +remember. She introduced them thus: + +I am thinking, said she, what a gradual and happy death God Almighty +(blessed be his name) affords me! Who would have thought, that, suffering +what I have suffered, and abandoned as I have been, with such a +tender education as I have had, I should be so long a dying!--But see now +by little and little it had come to this. I was first take off from the +power of walking; then I took a coach--a coach grew too violent an +exercise: then I took up a chair--the prison was a large DEATH-STRIDE +upon me--I should have suffered longer else!--Next, I was unable to go to +church; then to go up or down stairs; now hardly can move from one room +to another: and a less room will soon hold me.--My eyes begin to fail me, +so that at times I cannot see to read distinctly; and now I can hardly +write, or hold a pen.--Next, I presume, I shall know nobody, nor be able +to thank any of you; I therefore now once more thank you, Mrs. Lovick, +and you, Mrs. Smith, and you, Mr. Belford, while I can thank you, for all +your kindness to me. And thus by little and little, in such a gradual +sensible death as I am blessed with, God dies away in us, as I may say, +all human satisfaction, in order to subdue his poor creatures to himself. + +Thou mayest guess how affected we all were at this moving account of her +progressive weakness. We heard it with wet eyes; for what with the +women's example, and what with her moving eloquence, I could no more help +it than they. But we were silent nevertheless; and she went on applying +herself to me. + +O Mr. Belford! This is a poor transitory life in the best enjoyments. +We flutter about here and there, with all our vanities about us, like +painted butterflies, for a gay, but a very short season, till at last we +lay ourselves down in a quiescent state, and turn into vile worms: And +who knows in what form, or to what condition we shall rise again? + +I wish you would permit me, a young creature, just turned of nineteen +years of age, blooming and healthy as I was a few months ago, now nipt by +the cold hand of death, to influence you, in these my last hours, to a +life of regularity and repentance for any past evils you may have been +guilty of. For, believe me, Sir, that now, in this last stage, very few +things will bear the test, or be passed as laudable, if pardonable, at +our own bar, much less at a more tremendous one, in all we have done, or +delighted in, even in a life not very offensive neither, as we may think! +--Ought we not then to study in our full day, before the dark hours +approach, so to live, as may afford reflections that will soften the +agony of the last moments when they come, and let in upon the departing +soul a ray of Divine mercy to illuminate its passage into an awful +eternity? + +She was ready to faint, and choosing to lie down, I withdrew; I need not +say with a melancholy heart: and when I got to my new-taken apartment, my +heart was still more affected by the sight of the solemn letter the +admirable lady had so lately finished. It was communicated to me by Mrs. +Lovick; who had it to copy for me; but it was not to be delivered to me +till after her departure. However, I trespassed so far, as to prevail +upon the widow to let me take a copy of it; which I did directly in +character. + +I send it enclosed. If thou canst read it, and thy heart not bleed at +thy eyes, thy remorse can hardly be so deep as thou hast inclined me to +think it is. + + + +LETTER LXII + +MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MRS. NORTON +[IN ANSWER TO LETTER LVI.*] + + +* Begun on Monday Sept. 4, and by piecemeal finished on Tuesday; but not +sent till the Thursday following. + + +MY DEAREST MRS. NORTON, + +I am afraid I shall not be able to write all that is upon my mind to say +to you upon the subject of your last. Yet I will try. + +As to my friends, and as to the sad breakfasting, I cannot help being +afflicted for them. What, alas! has not my mother, in particular, +suffered by my rashness!--Yet to allow so much for a son!--so little for +a daughter!--But all now will soon be over, as to me. I hope they will +bury all their resentments in my grave. + +As to your advice, in relation to Mr. Belford, let me only say, that the +unhappy reprobation I have met with, and my short time, must be my +apology now.--I wish I could have written to my mother and my uncles as +you advise. And yet, favours come so slowly from them. + +The granting of one request only now remains as a desirable one from +them. Which nevertheless, when granted, I shall not be sensible of. It +is that they will be pleased to permit my remains to be laid with those +of my ancestors--placed at the feet of my dear grandfather, as I have +mentioned in my will. This, however, as they please. For, after all, +this vile body ought not so much to engage my cares. It is a weakness-- +but let it be called a natural weakness, and I shall be excused; +especially when a reverential gratitude shall be known to be the +foundation of it. You know, my dear woman, how my grandfather loved me. +And you know how much I honoured him, and that from my very infancy to +the hour of his death. How often since have I wished, that he had not +loved me so well! + +I wish not now, at the writing of this, to see even my cousin Morden. +O, my blessed woman! My dear maternal friend! I am entering upon a +better tour than to France or Italy either!--or even than to settle at my +once-beloved Dairy-house!--All these prospects and pleasures, which used +to be so agreeable to me in health, how poor seem they to me now!-- + +Indeed, indeed, my dear Mamma Norton, I shall be happy! I know I shall! +--I have charming forebodings of happiness already!--Tell all my dear +friends, for their comfort, that I shall!--Who would not bear the +punishments I have borne, to have the prospects and assurances I rejoice +in!--Assurances I might not have had, were my own wishes to have been +granted to me! + +Neither do I want to see even you, my dear Mrs. Norton. Nevertheless I +must, in justice to my own gratitude, declare, that there was a time, +could you have been permitted to come, without incurring displeasure from +those whose esteem it is necessary for you to cultivate and preserve, +that your presence and comfortings would have been balm to my wounded +mind. But were you now, even by consent, and with reconciliatory +tidings, to come, it would but add to your grief; and the sight of one I +so dearly love, so happily fraught with good news, might but draw me back +to wishes I have had great struggles to get above. And let me tell you +for your comfort, that I have not left undone any thing that ought to be +done, either respecting mind or person; no, not to the minutest +preparation: so that nothing is left for you to do for me. Every one has +her direction as to the last offices.--And my desk, that I now write upon +--O my dearest Mrs. Norton, all is provided!--All is ready! And all will +be as decent as it should be! + +And pray let my Miss Howe know, that by the time you will receive this, +and she your signification of the contents of it, will, in all +probability, be too late for her to do me the inestimable favour, as I +should once have thought it, to see me. God will have no rivals in the +hearts of those he sanctifies. By various methods he deadens all other +sensations, or rather absorbs them all in the love of him. + +I shall nevertheless love you, my Mamma Norton, and my Miss Howe, whose +love to me has passed the love of woman, to my latest hour!--But yet, I +am now above the quick sense of those pleasures which once delighted me, +and once more I say, that I do not wish to see objects so dear to me, +which might bring me back again into sense, and rival my supreme love. + + +*** + + +Twice have I been forced to leave off. I wished, that my last writing +might be to you, or to Miss Howe, if it might not be to my dearest Ma---- + +Mamma, I would have wrote--is the word distinct?--My eyes are so misty!-- +If, when I apply to you, I break off in half-words, do you supply them-- +the kindest are your due.--Be sure take the kindest, to fill up chasms +with, if any chasms there be-- + + +*** + + +Another breaking off!--But the new day seems to rise upon me with healing +in its wings. I have gotten, I think, a recruit of strength: spirits, I +bless God, I have not of late wanted. + +Let my dearest Miss Howe purchase her wedding-garments--and may all +temporal blessings attend the charming preparation!--Blessings will, I +make no question, notwithstanding the little cloudiness that Mr. Hickman +encounters with now and then, which are but prognostications of a future +golden day to him: for her heart is good, and her head not wrong.--But +great merit is coy, and that coyness had not always its foundation in +pride: but if it should seem to be pride, take off the skin-deep +covering, and, in her, it is noble diffidence, and a love that wants but +to be assured! + +Tell Mr. Hickman I write this, and write it, as I believe, with my last +pen; and bid him bear a little at first, and forbear; and all the future +will be crowning gratitude, and rewarding love: for Miss Howe had great +sense, fine judgment, and exalted generosity; and can such a one be +ungrateful or easy under those obligations which his assiduity and +obligingness (when he shall be so happy as to call her his) will lay her +under to him? + +As for me, never bride was so ready as I am. My wedding garments are +bought---and though not fine or gawdy to the sight, though not adorned +with jewels, and set off with gold and silver, (for I have no beholders' +eyes to wish to glitter in,) yet will they be the easiest, the happiest +suit, that ever bridal maiden wore--for they are such as carry with them +a security against all those anxieties, pains, and perturbations, which +sometimes succeed to the most promising outsettings. + +And now, my dear Mrs. Norton, do I wish for no other. + +O hasten, good God, if it be thy blessed will, the happy moment that I am +to be decked out in his all-quieting garb! And sustain, comfort, bless, +and protect with the all-shadowing wing of thy mercy, my dear parents, my +uncles, my brother, my sister, my cousin Morden, my ever-dear and +ever-kind Miss Howe, my good Mrs. Norton, and every deserving person to +whom they wish well! is the ardent prayer, first and last, of every +beginning hour, as the clock tells it me, (hours now are days, nay, +years,) of + +Your now not sorrowing or afflicted, but happy, +CLARISSA HARLOWE. + + + +LETTER LXIII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +WED. MORN. SEPT. 6, HALF AN HOUR AFTER THREE. + + +I am not the savage which you and my worst enemies think me. My soul is +too much penetrated by the contents of the letter which you enclosed in +your last, to say one word more to it, than that my heart has bled over +it from every vein!--I will fly from the subject--but what other can I +choose, that will not be as grievous, and lead into the same? + +I could quarrel with all the world; with thee, as well as the rest; +obliging as thou supposest thyself for writing to me hourly. How darest +thou, (though unknown to her,) to presume to take an apartment under the +sane roof with her?--I cannot bear to think that thou shouldest be seen, +at all hours passing to and repassing from her apartments, while I, who +have so much reason to call her mine, and one was preferred by her to all +the world, am forced to keep aloof, and hardly dare to enter the city +where she is! + +If there be any thing in Brand's letter that will divert me, hasten it to +me. But nothing now will ever divert me, will ever again give me joy or +pleasure! I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep. I am sick of all the +world. + +Surely it will be better when all is over--when I know the worst the +Fates can do against me--yet how shall I bear that worst?--O Belford, +Belford! write it not to me!--But if it must happen, get somebody else to +write; for I shall curse the pen, the hand, the head, and the heart, +employed in communicating to me the fatal tidings. But what is this +saying, when already I curse the whole world except her--myself most? + +In fine, I am a most miserable being. Life is a burden to me. I would +not bear it upon these terms for one week more, let what would be my lot; +for already is there a hell begun in my own mind. Never more mention it +to me, let her, or who will say it, the prison--I cannot bear it--May +d----n----n seize quick the cursed woman, who could set death upon taking +that large stride, as the dear creature calls it!--I had no hand in it!-- +But her relations, her implacable relations, have done the business. All +else would have been got over. Never persuade me but it would. The fire +of youth, and the violence of passion, would have pleaded for me to good +purpose, with an individual of a sex, which loves to be addressed with +passionate ardour, even to tumult, had it not been for that cruelty and +unforgivingness, which, (the object and the penitence considered,) have +no example, and have aggravated the heinousness of my faults. + +Unable to rest, though I went not to bed till two, I dispatch this ere +the day dawn--who knows what this night, this dismal night, may have +produced! + +I must after my messenger. I have told the varlet I will meet him, +perhaps at Knightsbridge, perhaps in Piccadilly; and I trust not myself +with pistols, not only on his account, but my own--for pistols are too +ready a mischief. + +I hope thou hast a letter ready for him. He goes to thy lodgings first-- +for surely thou wilt not presume to take thy rest in an apartment near +her's. If he miss thee there, he flies to Smith's, and brings me word +whether in being, or not. + +I shall look for him through the air as I ride, as well as on horseback; +for if the prince of it serve me, as well as I have served him, he will +bring the dog by his ears, like another Habakkuk, to my saddle-bow, with +the tidings that my heart pants after. + +Nothing but the excruciating pangs the condemned soul fells, at its +entrance into the eternity of the torments we are taught to fear, can +exceed what I now feel, and have felt for almost this week past; and +mayest thou have a spice of those, if thou hast not a letter ready +written for thy + +LOVELACE. + + + +LETTER LXIV + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +TUEDAY, SEPT. 5, SIX O'CLOCK. + + +The lady remains exceedingly weak and ill. Her intellects, nevertheless, +continue clear and strong, and her piety and patience are without +example. Every one thinks this night will be her last. What a shocking +thing is that to say of such an excellence! She will not, however, send +away her letter to her Norton, as yet. She endeavoured in vain to +superscribe it: so desired me to do it. Her fingers will not hold the +pen with the requisite steadiness.--She has, I fear, written and read her +last! + + +EIGHT O'CLOCK. + +She is somewhat better than she was. The doctor had been here, and +thinks she will hold out yet a day or two. He has ordered her, as for +some time past, only some little cordials to take when ready to faint. +She seemed disappointed, when he told her she might yet live two or three +days; and said, she longed for dismission!--Life was not so easily +extinguished, she saw, as some imagined.--Death from grief, was, she +believed, the slowest of deaths. But God's will must be done!--Her only +prayer was now for submission to it: for she doubted not but by the +Divine goodness she should be an happy creature, as soon as she could be +divested of these rags of mortality. + +Of her own accord she mentioned you; which, till then, she had avoided to +do. She asked, with great serenity, where you were? + +I told her where, and your motives for being so near; and read to her a +few lines of your's of this morning, in which you mention your wishes to +see her, your sincere affliction, and your resolution not to approach her +without her consent. + +I would have read more; but she said, Enough, Mr. Belford, enough!--Poor +man, does his conscience begin to find him!--Then need not any body to +wish him a greater punishment!--May it work upon him to an happy purpose! + +I took the liberty to say, that as she was in such a frame that nothing +now seemed capable of discomposing her, I could wish that you might have +the benefit of her exhortations, which, I dared to say, while you were so +seriously affected, would have a greater force upon you than a thousand +sermons; and how happy you would think yourself, if you could but receive +her forgiveness on your knees. + +How can you think of such a thing, Mr. Belford? said she, with some +emotion; my composure is owing, next to the Divine goodness blessing my +earnest supplications for it, to the not seeing him. Yet let him know +that I now again repeat, that I forgive him.--And may God Almighty, +clasping her fingers, and lifting up her eyes, forgive him too; and +perfect repentance, and sanctify it to him!--Tell him I say so! And tell +him, that if I could not say so with my whole heart, I should be very +uneasy, and think that my hopes of mercy were but weakly founded; and +that I had still, in my harboured resentment, some hankerings after a +life which he has been the cause of shortening. + +The divine creature then turning aside her head--Poor man, said she! I +once could have loved him. This is saying more than ever I could say of +any other man out of my own family! Would he have permitted me to have +been an humble instrument to have made him good, I think I could have +made him happy! But tell him not this if he be really penitent--it may +too much affect him!--There she paused.-- + +Admirable creature!--Heavenly forgiver!--Then resuming--but pray tell +him, that if I could know that my death might be a mean to reclaim and +save him, it would be an inexpressible satisfaction to me! + +But let me not, however, be made uneasy with the apprehension of seeing +him. I cannot bear to see him! + +Just as she had done speaking, the minister, who had so often attended +her, sent up his name; and was admitted. + +Being apprehensive that it would be with difficulty that you could +prevail upon that impetuous spirit of your's not to invade her in her +dying hours, and of the agonies into which a surprise of this nature +would throw her, I thought this gentleman's visit afforded a proper +opportunity to renew the subject; and, (having asked her leave,) +acquainted him with the topic we had been upon. + +The good man urged that some condescensions were usually expected, on +these solemn occasions, from pious souls like her's, however satisfied +with themselves, for the sake of showing the world, and for example-sake, +that all resentments against those who had most injured them were +subdued; and if she would vouchsafe to a heart so truly penitent, as I +had represented Mr. Lovelace's to be, that personal pardon, which I had +been pleading for there would be no room to suppose the least lurking +resentment remained; and it might have very happy effects upon the +gentleman. + +I have no lurking resentment, Sir, said she--this is not a time for +resentment: and you will be the readier to believe me, when I can assure +you, (looking at me,) that even what I have most rejoiced in, the truly +friendly love that has so long subsisted between my Miss Howe and her +Clarissa, although to my last gasp it will be the dearest to me of all +that is dear in this life, has already abated of its fervour; has already +given place to supremer fervours; and shall the remembrance of Mr. +Lovelace's personal insults, which I bless God never corrupted that mind +which her friendship so much delighted, be stronger in these hours with +me, then the remembrance of a love as pure as the human heart ever +boasted? Tell, therefore, the world, if you please, and (if, Mr. +Belford, you think what I said to you before not strong enough,) tell the +poor man, that I not only forgive him, but have such earnest wishes for +the good of his soul, and that from consideration of its immortality, +that could my penitence avail for more sins than my own, my last tear +should fall for him by whom I die! + +Our eyes and hands expressed to us both what our lips could not utter. + +Say not, then, proceeded she, nor let it be said, that my resentments are +unsubdued!--And yet these eyes, lifted up to Heaven as witness to the +truth of what I have said, shall never, if I can help it, behold him +more!--For do you not consider, Sirs, how short my time is; what much +more important subjects I have to employ it upon; and how unable I should +be, (so weak as I am,) to contend even with the avowed penitence of a +person in strong health, governed by passions unabated, and always +violent?--And now I hope you will never urge me more on this subject? + +The minister said, it were pity ever to urge this plea again. + +You see, Lovelace, that I did not forget the office of a friend, in +endeavouring to prevail upon her to give you her last forgiveness +personally. And I hope, as she is so near her end, you will not invade +her in her last hours; since she must be extremely discomposed at such an +interview; and it might make her leave the world the sooner for it. + +This reminds me of an expression which she used on your barbarous hunting +of her at Smith's, on her return to her lodgings; and that with a +serenity unexampled, (as Mrs. Lovick told me, considering the occasion, +and the trouble given her by it, and her indisposition at the time;) he +will not let me die decently, said the angelic sufferer!--He will not let +me enter into my Maker's presence with the composure that is required in +entering into the drawing-room of an earthly prince! + +I cannot, however, forbear to wish, that the heavenly creature could have +prevailed upon herself, in these her last hours, to see you; and that for +my sake, as well as yours; for although I am determined never to be +guilty of the crimes, which, till within these few past weeks have +blackened my former life; and for which, at present, I most heartily hate +myself; yet should I be less apprehensive of such a relapse, if wrought +upon by the solemnity which such an interview must have been attended +with, you had become a reformed man: for no devil do I fear, but one in +your shape. + + +*** + + +It is now eleven o'clock at night. The lady who retired to rest an hour +ago, is, as Mrs. Lovick tells me, in a sweet slumber. + +I will close here. I hope I shall find her the better for it in the +morning. Yet, alas! how frail is hope--How frail is life; when we are +apt to build so much on every shadowy relief; although in such a +desperate case as this, sitting down to reflect, we must know, that it is +but shadowy! + +I will enclose Brand's horrid pedantry. And for once am aforehand with +thy ravenous impatience. + + + +LETTER LXV + +MR. BRAND, TO MR. JOHN WALTON +SAT. NIGHT, SEPT. 2. + + +DEAR MR. WALTON, + +I am obliged to you for the very 'handsomely penned', (and 'elegantly +written,') letter which you have sent me on purpose to do 'justice' to +the 'character' of the 'younger' Miss Harlowe; and yet I must tell you +that I had reason, 'before that came,' to 'think,' (and to 'know' +indeed,) that we were 'all wrong.' And so I had employed the 'greatest +part' of this 'week,' in drawing up an 'apologetical letter' to my worthy +'patron,' Mr. John Harlowe, in order to set all 'matters right' between +'me and them,' and, ('as far as I could,') between 'them' and 'Miss.' +So it required little more than 'connection' and 'transcribing,' when I +received 'your's'; and it will be with Mr. Harlowe aforesaid, 'to-morrow +morning'; and this, and the copy of that, will be with you on 'Monday +morning.' + +You cannot imagine how sorry I am that 'you' and Mrs. Walton, and Mrs. +Barker, and 'I myself,' should have taken matters up so lightly, +(judging, alas-a-day! by appearance and conjecture,) where 'character' +and 'reputation' are concerned. Horace says truly, + + 'Et semel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.' + +That is, 'Words one spoken cannot be recalled.' But, Mr. Walton, they +may be 'contradicted' by 'other' words; and we may confess ourselves +guilty of a 'mistake,' and express our 'concern' for being 'mistaken'; +and resolve to make our 'mistake' a 'warning' to us for the 'future': and +this is all that 'can be done,' and what every 'worthy mind will do'; and +what nobody can be 'readier to do' than 'we four undesigning offenders,' +(as I see by 'your letter,' on 'your part,' and as you will see by the +'enclosed copy,' on 'mine';) which, if it be received as I 'think it +ought,' (and as I 'believe it will,') must give me a 'speedy' opportunity +to see you when I 'visit the lady'; to whom, (as you will see in it,) I +expect to be sent up with the 'olive-branch.' + +The matter in which we all 'erred,' must be owned to be 'very nice'; and +(Mr. Belford's 'character considered') 'appearances' ran very strong +'against the lady.' But all that this serveth to show is, 'that in +doubtful matters, the wisest people may be mistaken'; for so saith the +'Poet,' + + 'Fallitur in dubiis hominum solertia rebus.' + +If you have an 'opportunity,' you may (as if 'from yourself,' and +'unknown to me') show the enclosed to Mr. Belford, who (you tell me) +'resenteth' the matter very heinously; but not to let him 'see' or 'hear +read,' those words 'that relate to him,' in the paragraph at the 'bottom +of the second page,' beginning, ['But yet I do insist upon it,] to the +'end' of that paragraph; for one would not make one's self 'enemies,' you +know; and I have 'reason to think,' that this Mr. 'Belford' is as +'passionate' and 'fierce' a man as Mr. Lovelace. What pity it is the +lady could find no 'worthier a protector!' You may paste those lines +over with 'blue' or 'black paper,' before he seeth it: and if he +insisteth upon taking a copy of my letter, (for he, or any body that +'seeth it,' or 'heareth it read,' will, no doubt, be glad to have by them +the copy of a letter so full of the 'sentiments' of the 'noblest writers' +of 'antiquity,' and 'so well adapted,' as I will be bold to say they are, +to the 'point in hand'; I say, if he insisteth upon taking a copy,) let +him give you the 'strongest assurances' not to suffer it to be 'printed' +on 'any account'; and I make the same request to you, that 'you' will +not; for if any thing be to be made of a 'man's works,' who, but the +'author,' should have the 'advantage'? And if the 'Spectators,' the +'Tatlers,' the 'Examiners,' the 'Guardians,' and other of our polite +papers, make such a 'strutting' with a 'single verse,' or so by way of +'motto,' in the 'front' of 'each day's' paper; and if other 'authors' +pride themselves in 'finding out' and 'embellishing' the 'title-pages' +of their 'books' with a 'verse' or 'adage' from the 'classical writers'; +what a figure would 'such a letter as the enclosed make,' so full fraught +with 'admirable precepts,' and 'à-propos quotations,' from the 'best +authority'? + +I have been told that a 'certain noble Lord,' who once sat himself down +to write a 'pamphlet' in behalf of a 'great minister,' after taking +'infinite pains' to 'no purpose' to find a 'Latin motto,' gave commission +to a friend of 'his' to offer to 'any one,' who could help him to a +'suitable one,' but of one or two lines, a 'hamper of claret.' +Accordingly, his lordship had a 'motto found him' from 'Juvenal,' which +he 'unhappily mistaking,' (not knowing 'Juvenal' was a 'poet,') printed +as a prose 'sentence' in his 'title-page.' + +If, then, 'one' or 'two' lines were of so much worth, (A 'hamper of +claret'! No 'less'!) of what 'inestimable value' would 'such a letter as +mine' be deemed?--And who knoweth but that this noble P--r, (who is now* +living,) if he should happen to see 'this letter' shining with such a +'glorious string of jewels,' might give the 'writer a scarf,' in order to +have him 'always at hand,' or be a 'mean' (some way or other) to bring +him into 'notice'? And I would be bold to say ('bad' as the 'world' is) +a man of 'sound learning' wanteth nothing but an 'initiation' to make his +'fortune.' + + +* i.e. At the time this Letter was written. + + +I hope, my good friend, that the lady will not 'die': I shall be much +'grieved,' if she doth; and the more because of mine 'unhappy +misrepresentation': so will 'you' for the 'same cause'; so will her +'parents' and 'friends.' They are very 'rich' and 'very worthy' +gentlefolks. + +But let me tell you, 'by-the-by,' that they had carried the matter +against her 'so far,' that I believe in my heart they were glad to +'justify themselves' by 'my report'; and would have been 'less pleased,' +had I made a 'more favourable one.' And yet in 'their hearts' they +'dote' upon her. But now they are all (as I hear) inclined to be +'friends with her,' and 'forgive her'; her 'brother,' as well as 'the +rest.' + +But their 'cousin,' Col. Morden, 'a very fine gentleman,' had had such +'high words' with them, and they with him, that they know not how to +'stoop,' lest it should look like being frighted into an 'accommodation.' +Hence it is, that 'I' have taken the greater liberty to 'press the +reconciliation'; and I hope in 'such good season,' that they will all be +'pleased' with it: for can they have a 'better handle' to save their +'pride' all round, than by my 'mediation'? And let me tell you, (inter +nos, 'betwixt ourselves,') 'very proud they all are.' + +By this 'honest means,' (for by 'dishonest ones' I would not be +'Archbishop of Canterbury,') I hope to please every body; to be +'forgiven,' in the 'first place,' by 'the lady,' (whom, being a 'lover of +learning' and 'learned men,' I shall have great 'opportunities' of +'obliging'; for, when she departed from her father's house, I had but +just the honour of her 'notice,' and she seemed 'highly pleased' with my +'conversation';) and, 'next' to be 'thanked' and 'respected' by her +'parents,' and 'all her family'; as I am (I bless God for it) by my 'dear +friend' Mr. John Harlowe: who indeed is a man that professeth a 'great +esteem' for 'men of erudition'; and who (with 'singular delight,' I know) +will run over with me the 'authorities' I have 'quoted,' and 'wonder' at +my 'memory,' and the 'happy knack' I have of recommending 'mine own sense +of things' in the words of the 'greatest sages of antiquity.' + +Excuse me, my good friend, for this 'seeming vanity.' The great Cicero +(you must have heard, I suppose) had a 'much greater' spice of it, and +wrote a 'long letter begging' and 'praying' to be 'flattered.' But if I +say 'less of myself' than other people (who know me) 'say of me,' I think +I keep a 'medium' between 'vanity' and 'false modesty'; the latter of +which oftentimes gives itself the 'lie,' when it is 'declaring of' the +'compliments,' that 'every body' gives it as its due: an hypocrisy, as +well as folly, that, (I hope,) I shall for ever scorn to be guilty of. + +I have 'another reason' (as I may tell to you, my 'old school-fellow') to +make me wish for this 'fine lady's recovery' and 'health'; and that is, +(by some distant intimations,) I have heard from Mr. John Harlowe, that +it is 'very likely' (because of the 'slur' she hath received) that she +will choose to 'live privately' and 'penitently'--and will probably (when +she cometh into her 'estate') keep a 'chaplain' to direct her in her +'devotions' and 'penitence'--If she doth, who can stand a 'better chance' +than 'myself'?--And as I find (by 'your' account, as well as by 'every +body's') that she is innocent as to 'intention,' and is resolved never to +think of Mr. 'Lovelace more,' who knoweth 'what' (in time) 'may happen'? +--And yet it must be after Mr. 'Lovelace's death,' (which may possibly +sooner happen than he 'thinketh' of, by means of his 'detestable +courses':) for, after all, a man who is of 'public utility,' ought not +(for the 'finest woman' in the world) to lay his 'throat' at the 'mercy' +of a man who boggleth at nothing. + +I beseech you, let not this hint 'go farther' than to 'yourself,' your +'spouse,' and Mrs. 'Barker.' I know I may trust my 'life' in 'your +hands' and 'theirs.' There have been (let me tell ye) 'unlikelier' +things come to pass, and that with 'rich widows,' (some of 'quality' +truly!) whose choice, in their 'first marriages' hath (perhaps) been +guided by 'motives of convenience,' or 'mere corporalities,' as I may +say; but who by their 'second' have had for their view the 'corporal' and +'spiritual' mingled; which is the most eligible (no doubt) to 'substance' +composed 'of both,' as 'men' and 'women' are. + +Nor think (Sir) that, should such a thing come to pass, 'either' would be +'disgraced,' since 'the lady' in 'me' would marry a 'gentleman' and a +'scholar': and as to 'mine own honour,' as the 'slur' would bring her +'high fortunes' down to an 'equivalence' with my 'mean ones,' (if +'fortune' only, and not 'merit,' be considered,) so hath not the 'life' +of 'this lady' been 'so tainted,' (either by 'length of time,' or +'naughtiness of practice,') as to put her on a 'foot' with the 'cast +Abigails,' that too, too often, (God knoweth,) are thought good enough +for a 'young clergyman,' who, perhaps, is drawn in by a 'poor benefice'; +and (if the 'wicked one' be not 'quite worn out') groweth poorer and +poorer upon it, by an 'increase of family' he knoweth not whether 'is +most his,' or his 'noble,' ('ignoble,' I should say,) 'patrons.' + +But, all this 'apart,' and 'in confidence.' + +I know you made at school but a small progress in 'languages.' So I have +restrained myself from 'many illustrations' from the 'classics,' that I +could have filled this letter with, (as I have done the enclosed one:) +and, being at a 'distance,' I cannot 'explain' them to you, as I 'do to +my friend,' Mr. John Harlowe; and who, (after all,) is obliged to 'me' +for pointing out to 'him' many 'beauties' of the 'authors I quote,' which +otherwise would lie concealed from 'him,' as they must from every 'common +observer.'--But this (too) 'inter nos'--for he would not take it well to +'have it known'--'Jays' (you know, old school-fellow, 'jays,' you know) +'will strut in peacocks' feathers.' + +But whither am I running? I never know where to end, when I get upon +'learned topics.' And albeit I cannot compliment 'you' with the 'name of +a learned man,' yet are you 'a sensible man'; and ('as such') must have +'pleasure' in 'learned men,' and in 'their writings.' + +In this confidence, (Mr. Walton,) with my 'kind respects' to the good +ladies, (your 'spouse' and 'sister,') and in hopes, for the 'young lady's +sake,' soon to follow this long, long epistle, in 'person,' I conclude +myself, + +Your loving and faithful friend, +ELIAS BRAND. + + +You will perhaps, Mr. Walton, wonder at the meaning of the 'lines drawn + under many of the words and sentences,' (UNDERSCORING we call it;) + and were my letters to be printed, those would be put in a + 'different character.' Now, you must know, Sir, that 'we learned + men' do this to point out to the readers, who are not 'so learned,' + where the 'jet of our arguments lieth,' and the 'emphasis' they are + to lay upon 'those words'; whereby they will take in readily our + 'sense' and 'cogency.' Some 'pragmatical' people have said, that + an author who doth a 'great deal of this,' either calleth his + readers 'fools,' or tacitly condemneth 'his own style,' as + supposing his meaning would be 'dark' without it, or that all of + his 'force' lay in 'words.' But all of those with whom I have + conversed in a learned way, 'think as I think.' And to give a very + 'pretty,' though 'familiar illustration,' I have considered a page + distinguished by 'different characters,' as a 'verdant field' + overspread with 'butter-flowers' and 'daisies,' and other + summer-flowers. These the poets liken to 'enamelling'--have you + not read in the poets of 'enamelled meads,' and so forth? + + + +LETTER LXVI + +MR. BRAND, TO JOHN HARLOWE, ESQ. +SAT. NIGHT, SEPT. 2. + + +WORTHY SIR, + +I am under no 'small concern,' that I should (unhappily) be the +'occasion' (I am sure I 'intended' nothing like it) of 'widening +differences' by 'light misreport,' when it is the 'duty' of one of 'my +function' (and no less consisting with my 'inclination') to 'heal' and +'reconcile.' + +I have received two letter to set me 'right': one from a 'particular +acquaintance,' (whom I set to inquire of Mr. Belford's character); and +that came on Tuesday last, informing me, that your 'unhappy niece' was +greatly injured in the account I had had of her; (for I had told 'him' +of it, and that with very 'great concern,' I am sure, apprehending it to +be 'true.') So I 'then' set about writing to you, to 'acknowledge' the +'error.' And had gone a good way in it, when the second letter came (a +very 'handsome one' it is, both in 'style' and 'penmanship') from my +friend Mr. Walton, (though I am sure it cannot be 'his inditing,') +expressing his sorrow, and his wife's, and his sister-in-law's likewise, +for having been the cause of 'misleading me,' in the account I gave of +the said 'young lady'; whom they 'now' say (upon 'further inquiry') they +find to be the 'most unblameable,' and 'most prudent,' and (it seems) the +most 'pious' young lady, that ever (once) committed a 'great error'; as +(to be sure) 'her's was,' in leaving such 'worthy parents' and +'relations' for so 'vile a man' as Mr. Lovelace; but what shall we say?-- +Why, the divine Virgil tells us, + + 'Improbe amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis?' + +For 'my part,' I was but too much afraid (for we have 'great +opportunities,' you are sensible, Sir, at the 'University,' of knowing +'human nature' from 'books,' the 'calm result' of the 'wise man's +wisdom,' as I may say, + + '(Haurit aquam cribro, qui discere vult sine libro)' + +'uninterrupted' by the 'noise' and 'vanities' that will mingle with +'personal conversation,' which (in the 'turbulent world') is not to be +enjoyed but over a 'bottle,' where you have an 'hundred foolish things' +pass to 'one that deserveth to be remembered'; I was but too much afraid +'I say') that so 'great a slip' might be attended with 'still greater' +and 'worse': for 'your' Horace, and 'my' Horace, the most charming writer +that ever lived among the 'Pagans' (for the 'lyric kind of poetry,' I +mean; for, the be sure, 'Homer' and 'Virgil' would 'otherwise' be 'first' +named 'in their way') well observeth (and who understood 'human nature' +better than he?) + + 'Nec vera virtus, cum semel excidit, + Curat reponi deterioribus.' + +And 'Ovid' no less wisely observeth: + + 'Et mala sunt vicina bonis. Errore sub illo + Pro vitio virtus crimina sæpe tulit.' + +Who, that can draw 'knowledge' from its 'fountain-head,' the works of the +'sages of antiquity,' (improved by the 'comments' of the 'moderns,') but +would 'prefer' to all others the 'silent quiet life,' which +'contemplative men' lead in the 'seats of learning,' were they not called +out (according to their 'dedication') to the 'service' and 'instruction' +of the world? + +Now, Sir, 'another' favourite poet of mine (and not the 'less a +favourite' for being a 'Christian') telleth us, that ill is the custom of +'some,' when in a 'fault,' to throw the blame upon the backs of 'others,' + + '----Hominum quoque mos est, + Quæ nos cunque premunt, alieno imponere tergo.' + MANT. + +But I, though (in this case) 'misled,' ('well intendedly,' nevertheless, +both in the 'misleaders' and 'misled,' and therefore entitled to lay hold +of that plea, if 'any body' is so entitled,) will not however, be classed +among such 'extenuators'; but (contrarily) will always keep in mind that +verse, which 'comforteth in mistake,' as well as 'instructeth'; and which +I quoted in my last letter; + + 'Errare est hominis, sed non persistere----' + +And will own, that I was very 'rash' to take up with 'conjectures' and +'consequences' drawn from 'probabilites,' where (especially) the +'character' of so 'fine a lady' was concerned. + + 'Credere fallacy gravis est dementia famæ.' MANT. + +Notwithstanding, Miss Clarissa Harlowe (I must be bold to say) is the +'only young lady,' that ever I heard of (or indeed read of) that, 'having +made such a false step,' so 'soon' (of 'her own accord,' as I may say) +'recovered' herself, and conquered her 'love of the deceiver'; (a great +conquest indeed!) and who flieth him, and resolveth to 'die,' rather than +to be his; which now, to her never-dying 'honour' (I am well assured) is +the case--and, in 'justice' to her, I am now ready to take to myself +(with no small vexation) that of Ovid, + + 'Heu! patior telis vulnera facta meis.' + +But yet I do insist upon it, that all 'that part' of my 'information,' +which I took upon mine own 'personal inquiry,' which is what relates to +Mr. 'Belford' and 'his character,' is 'literally true'; for there is not +any where to be met with a man of a more 'libertine character' as to +'women,' Mr. 'Lovelace' excepted, than he beareth. + +And so, Sir, I must desire of you, that you will not let 'any blame' lie +upon my 'intention'; since you see how ready I am to 'accuse myself' of +too lightly giving ear to a 'rash information' (not knowing it to be so, +however): for I depended the more upon it, as the 'people I had it from' +are very 'sober,' and live in the 'fear of God': and indeed when I wait +upon you, you will see by their letter, that they must be 'conscientious' +good people: wherefore, Sir, let me be entitled, from 'all your good +family,' to that of my last-named poet, + + 'Aspera confesso verba remitte reo.' + +And now, Sir, (what is much more becoming of my 'function,') let me, +instead of appearing with the 'face of an accuser,' and a 'rash +censurer,' (which in my 'heart' I have not 'deserved' to be thought,) +assume the character of a 'reconciler'; and propose (by way of 'penance' +to myself for my 'fault') to be sent up as a 'messenger of peace' to the +'pious young lady'; for they write me word 'absolutely' (and, I believe +in my heart, 'truly') that the 'doctors' have 'given her over,' and that +she 'cannot live.' Alas! alas! what a sad thing would that be, if the +'poor bough,' that was only designed (as I 'very well know,' and am +'fully assured') 'to be bent, should be broken!' + +Let it not, dear Sir, seem to the 'world' that there was any thing in +your 'resentments' (which, while meant for 'reclaiming,' were just and +fit) that hath the 'appearance' of 'violence,' and 'fierce wrath,' and +'inexorability'; (as it would look to some, if carried to extremity, +after 'repentance' and 'contrition,' and 'humiliation,' on the 'fair +offender's' side:) for all this while (it seemeth) she hath been a 'second +Magdalen' in her 'penitence,' and yet not so bad as a 'Magdalen' in her +'faults'; (faulty, nevertheless, as she hath been once, the Lord knoweth! + + 'Nam vitiis nemo sine nascitur: optimus ille est, + Qui minimis urgentur'----saith Horace). + +Now, Sir, if I may be named for this 'blessed' employment, (for, 'Blessed +is the peace-maker!') I will hasten to London; and (as I know Miss had +always a 'great regard' to the 'function' I have the honour to be of) I +have no doubt of making myself acceptable to her, and to bring her, by +'sound arguments,' and 'good advice,' into a 'liking of life,' which must +be the 'first step' to her 'recovery': for, when the 'mind' is 'made +easy,' the 'body' will not 'long suffer'; and the 'love of life' is a +'natural passion,' that is soon 'revived,' when fortune turneth about, +and smileth: + + 'Vivere quisque diu, quamvis & egenus & ager, + Optat.---- ---- ----' OVID. + +And the sweet Lucan truly observeth, + + '---- ---- Fatis debentibus annos + Mors invita subit.---- ----' + +And now, Sir, let me tell you what shall be the 'tenor' of my 'pleadings' +with her, and 'comfortings' of her, as she is, as I may say, a 'learned +lady'; and as I can 'explain' to her 'those sentences,' which she cannot +so readily 'construe herself': and this in order to convince 'you' (did +you not already 'know' my 'qualifications') how well qualified I 'am' for +the 'christian office' to which I commend myself. + +I will, IN THE FIRST PLACE, put her in mind of the 'common course of +things' in this 'sublunary world,' in which 'joy' and 'sorrow, sorrow' +and joy,' succeed one another by turns'; in order to convince her, that +her griefs have been but according to 'that' common course of things: + + 'Gaudia post luctus veniunt, post gaudia luctus.' + +SECONDLY, I will remind her of her own notable description of 'sorrow,' +whence she was once called upon to distinguish wherein 'sorrow, grief,' +and 'melancholy,' differed from each other; which she did 'impromptu,' by +their 'effects,' in a truly admirable manner, to the high satisfaction of +every one: I myself could not, by 'study,' have distinguished 'better,' +nor more 'concisely'--SORROW, said she, 'wears'; GRIEF 'tears'; but +MELANCHOLY 'sooths.' + +My inference to her shall be, that since a happy reconciliation will take +place, 'grief' will be banished; 'sorrow' dismissed; and only sweet +'melancholy' remain to 'sooth' and 'indulge' her contrite 'heart,' and +show to all the world the penitent sense she hath of her great error. + +THIRDLY, That her 'joys,'* when restored to health and favour, will be +the greater, the deeper her griefs were. + + +* 'Joy,' let me here observe, my dear Sir, by way of note, is not +absolutely inconsistent with 'melancholy'; a 'soft gentle joy,' not a +'rapid,' not a 'rampant joy,' however; but such a 'joy,' as shall lift +her 'temporarily' out of her 'soothing melancholy,' and then 'let her +down gently' into it again; for 'melancholy,' to be sure, her +'reflection' will generally make to be her state. + + + 'Gaudia, quæ multo parta labore, placent.' + +FOURTHLY, That having 'really' been guilty of a 'great error,' she should +not take 'impatiently' the 'correction' and 'anger' with which she hath +been treated. + + 'Leniter, ex merito quicquid patiare ferundum est.' + +FIFTHLY, That 'virtue' must be established by 'patience'; as saith +Prudentius: + + 'Hæc virtus vidua est, quam non patientia firmat.' + +SIXTHLY, That in the words of Horace, she may 'expect better times,' than +(of late) she had 'reason' to look for. + + 'Grata superveniet, quæ non sperabitur, hora.' + +SEVENTHLY, That she is really now in 'a way' to be 'happy,' since, +according to 'Ovid,' she 'can count up all her woe': + + 'Felix, qui patitur quæ numerare potest.' + +And those comforting lines, + + 'Estque serena dies post longos gratior imbres, + Et post triste malum gratior ipsa salus.' + +EIGHTHLY, That, in the words of Mantuan, her 'parents' and 'uncles' could +not 'help loving her' all the time they were 'angry at her': + + 'Æqua tamen mens est, & amica voluntas, + Sit licet in natos austere parentum.' + +NINTHLY, That the 'ills she hath met with' may be turned (by the 'good +use' to be made of them) to her 'everlasting benefit'; for that, + + 'Cum furit atque ferit, Deus olim parcere quærit.' + +TENTHLY, That she will be able to give a 'fine lesson' (a 'very' fine +lesson) to all the 'young ladies' of her 'acquaintance,' of the 'vanity' +of being 'lifted up' in 'prosperity,' and the 'weakness' of being 'cast +down' in 'adversity'; since no one is so 'high,' as to be above being +'humbled'; so 'low,' as to 'need to despair': for which purpose the +advice of 'Ausonius,' + + 'Dum fortuna juvat, caveto tolli: + Dum fortuna tonat, caveto mergi.' + +I shall tell her, that Lucan saith well, when he calleth 'adversity the +element of patience'; + + '----Gaudet patientia duris:' + +That + + 'Fortunam superat virtus, prudential famam.' + +That while weak souls are 'crushed by fortune,' the 'brave mind' maketh +the fickle deity afraid of it: + + 'Fortuna fortes metuit, ignavos permit.' + +ELEVENTHLY, That if she take the advice of 'Horace,' + + 'Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus,' + +it will delight her 'hereafter' (as 'Virgil' saith) to 'revoke her past +troubles': + + '----Forsan & hæc olim meminisse juvabit.' + +And, to the same purpose, 'Juvenal' speaking of the 'prating joy' of +mariners, after all their 'dangers are over': + + 'Gaudent securi narrare pericula nautæ.' + +Which suiting the case so well, you'll forgive me, Sir, for 'popping +down' in 'English metre,' as the 'translative impulse' (pardon a new +word, and yet we 'scholars' are not fond of 'authenticating new' words) +came upon me 'uncalled for': + + The seaman, safe on shore, with joy doth tell + What cruel dangers him at sea befell. + +With 'these,' Sir, and an 'hundred more' wise 'adages,' which I have +always at my 'fingers' end,' will I (when reduced to 'form' and 'method') +entertain Miss; and as she is a 'well-read,' and (I might say, but for +this 'one' great error) a 'wise' young lady, I make no doubt but I shall +'prevail' upon her, if not by 'mine own arguments,' by those of 'wits' +and 'capacities' that have a 'congeniality' (as I may say) to 'her own,' +to take to heart, + + ----Nor of the laws of fate complain, + Since, though it has been cloudy, now't clears up again.---- + +Oh! what 'wisdom' is there in these 'noble classical authors!' A 'wise +man' will (upon searching into them,) always find that they speak 'his' +sense of 'men' and 'things.' Hence it is, that they so readily occur to +my 'memory' on every occasion--though this may look like 'vanity,' it is +too true to be omitted; and I see not why a man may not 'know these +things of himself,' which 'every body' seeth and 'saith of him'; who, +nevertheless, perhaps know not 'half so much as he,' in other matters. + +I know but of 'one objection,' Sir, that can lie against my going; and +that will arise from your kind 'care' and 'concern' for the 'safety of my +person,' in case that 'fierce' and 'terrible man,' the wicked Mr. +Lovelace, (of whom every one standeth in fear,) should come cross me, as +he may be resolved to try once more to 'gain a footing in Miss's +affections': but I will trust in 'Providence' for 'my safety,' while I +shall be engaged in a 'cause so worthy of my function'; and the 'more' +trust in it, as he is a 'learned man' as I am told. + +Strange too, that so 'vile a rake' (I hope he will never see this!) +should be a 'learned man'; that is to say, that a 'learned man' may be a +'sly sinner,' and take opportunities, 'as they come in his way'--which, +however, I do assure you, 'I never did,' + +I repeat, that as he is a 'learned man,' I shall 'vest myself,' as I may +say, in 'classical armour'; beginning 'meekly' with him (for, Sir, +'bravery' and 'meekness' are qualities 'very consistent with each other,' +and in no persons so shiningly 'exert' themselves, as in the 'Christian +priesthood'; beginning 'meekly' with him, I say) from Ovid, + + 'Corpora magnanimo satis est protrasse leoni:' + +So that, if I should not be safe behind the 'shield of mine own +prudence,' I certainly should be behind the 'shields' of the +'ever-admirable classics': of 'Horace' particularly; who, being a 'rake' +(and a 'jovial rake' too,) himself, must have great weight with all +'learned rakes.' + +And who knoweth but I may be able to bring even this 'Goliath in +wickedness,' although in 'person' but a 'little David' myself, (armed +with the 'slings' and 'stones' of the 'ancient sages,') to a due sense of +his errors? And what a victory would that be! + +I could here, Sir, pursuing the allegory of David and Goliath, give you +some of the 'stones' ('hard arguments' may be called 'stones,' since they +'knock down a pertinacious opponent') which I could 'pelt him with,' were +he to be wroth with me; and this in order to take from you, Sir, all +apprehensions for my 'life,' or my 'bones'; but I forbear them till you +demand them of me, when I have the honour to attend you in person. + +And now, (my dear Sir,) what remaineth, but that having shown you (what +yet, I believe, you did not doubt) how 'well qualified' I am to attend +the lady with the 'olive-branch,' I beg of you to dispatch me with it +'out of hand'? For if she be so 'very ill,' and if she should not live +to receive the grace, which (to my knowledge) all the 'worthy family' +design her, how much will that grieve you all! And then, Sir, of what +avail will be the 'eulogies' you shall all, peradventure, join to give to +her memory? For, as Martial wisely observeth, + + '---- Post cineres gloria sera venit.' + +Then, as 'Ausonius' layeth it down with 'equal propriety,' that 'those +favours which are speedily conferred are the most grateful and obliging' +---- + +And to the same purpose Ovid: + + 'Gratia ab officio, quod mora tar dat, abest.' + +And, Sir, whatever you do, let the 'lady's pardon' be as 'ample,' and as +'cheerfully given,' as she can 'wish for it': that I may be able to tell +her, that it hath your 'hands,' your 'countenances,' and your 'whole +hearts,' with it--for, as the Latin verse hath it, (and I presume to +think I have not weakened its sense by my humble advice), + + 'Dat bene, dat multum, qui dat cum munere vultum.' + +And now, Sir, when I survey this long letter,* (albeit I see it +enamelled, as a 'beautiful meadow' is enamelled by the 'spring' or +'summer' flowers, very glorious to behold!) I begin to be afraid that I +may have tired you; and the more likely, as I have written without that +'method' or 'order,' which I think constituteth the 'beauty' of 'good +writing': which 'method' or 'order,' nevertheless, may be the 'better +excused' in a 'familiar epistle,' (as this may be called,) you pardoning, +Sir, the 'familiarity' of the 'word'; but yet not altogether 'here,' I +must needs own; because this is 'a letter' and 'not a letter,' as I may +say; but a kind of 'short' and 'pithy discourse,' touching upon 'various' +and 'sundry topics,' every one of which might be a 'fit theme' to enlarge +upon of volumes; if this 'epistolary discourse' (then let me call it) +should be pleasing to you, (as I am inclined to think it will, because of +the 'sentiments' and 'aphorisms' of the 'wisest of the antients,' which +'glitter through it' like so many dazzling 'sunbeams,') I will (at my +leisure) work it up into a 'methodical discourse'; and perhaps may one +day print it, with a 'dedication' to my 'honoured patron,' (if, Sir, I +have 'your' leave,) 'singly' at first, (but not till I have thrown out +'anonymously,' two or three 'smaller things,' by the success of which I +shall have made myself of 'some account' in the 'commonwealth of +letters,') and afterwards in my 'works'--not for the 'vanity' of the +thing (however) I will say, but for the 'use' it may be of to the +'public'; for, (as one well observeth,) 'though glory always followeth +virtue, yet it should be considered only as its shadow.' + + +* And here, by way of note, permit me to say, that no 'sermon' I ever +composed cost me half the 'pains' that this letter hath done--but I knew +your great 'appetite' after, as well as 'admiration' of, the 'antient +wisdom,' which you so justly prefer to the 'modern'--and indeed I join +with you to think, that the 'modern' is only 'borrowed,' (as the 'moon' +doth its light from the 'sun,') at least, that we 'excel' them in +nothing; and that our 'best cogitations' may be found, generally +speaking, more 'elegantly' dressed and expressed by them. + + + 'Contemnit laudem virtus, licet usque sequatur + Gloria virtutem, corpus ut umbra suum.' + +A very pretty saying, and worthy of all men's admiration. + +And now, ('most worthy Sir,' my very good friend and patron,) referring +the whole to 'your's,' and to your 'two brothers,' and to 'young Mr. +Harlowe's' consideration, and to the wise consideration of good 'Madam +Harlowe,' and her excellent daughter, 'Miss Arabella Harlowe'; I take the +liberty to subscribe myself, what I 'truly am,' and 'every shall delight +to be,' in 'all cases,' and at 'all times,' + +Your and their most ready and obedient +as well as faithful servant, +ELIAS BRAND. + + + +LETTER LXVII + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +[IN ANSWER TO LETTER LXIV. OF THIS VOLUME.] +WEDN. MORN. SEPT. 6. + + +And is she somewhat better?--Blessings upon thee without number or +measure! Let her still be better and better! Tell me so at least, if +she be not so: for thou knowest not what a joy that poor temporary +reprieve, that she will hold out yet a day or two, gave me. + +But who told this hard-hearted and death-pronouncing doctor that she will +hold it no longer? By what warrant says he this? What presumption in +these parading solemn fellows of a college, which will be my contempt to +the latest hour of my life, if this brother of it (eminent as he is +deemed to be) cannot work an ordinary miracle in her favour, or rather in +mine! + +Let me tell thee, Belford, that already he deserves the utmost contempt, +for suffering this charming clock to run down so low. What must be his +art, if it could not wind it up in a quarter of the time he has attended +her, when, at his first visits, the springs and wheels of life and motion +were so god, that they seemed only to want common care and oiling! + +I am obliged to you for endeavouring to engage her to see me. 'Twas +acting like a friend. If she had vouchsafed me that favour, she should +have seen at her feet the most abject adorer that ever kneeled to +justly-offended beauty. + +What she bid you, and what she forbid you, to tell me, (the latter for +tender considerations:) that she forgives me; and that, could she have +made me a good man, she would have made me a happy one! That she even +loved me! At such a moment to own that she once loved me! Never before +loved any man! That she prays for me! That her last tear should be shed +for me, could she by it save a soul, doomed, without her, to perdition!-- +O Belford! Belford! I cannot bear it!--What a dog, what a devil have I +been to a goodness so superlative!--Why does she not inveigh against me? +--Why does she not execrate me?--O the triumphant subduer! Ever above +me!--And now to leave me so infinitely below her! + +Marry and repair, at any time; this, wretch that I was, was my plea to +myself. To give her a lowering sensibility; to bring her down from among +the stars which her beamy head was surrounded by, that my wife, so +greatly above me, might not despise me; this was one of my reptile +motives, owing to my more reptile envy, and to my consciousness of +inferiority to her!--Yet she, from step to step, from distress to +distress, to maintain her superiority; and, like the sun, to break out +upon me with the greater refulgence for the clouds that I had contrived +to cast about her!--And now to escape me thus!--No power left me to +repair her wrongs!--No alleviation to my self-reproach!--No dividing of +blame with her!-- + +Tell her, O tell her, Belford, that her prayers and wishes, her +superlatively-generous prayers and wishes, shall not be vain: that I can, +and do repent--and long have repented.--Tell her of my frequent deep +remorses--it was impossible that such remorses should not at last produce +effectual remorse--yet she must not leave me--she must live, if she would +wish to have my contrition perfect--For what can despair produce? + + +*** + + +I will do every thing you would have me do, in the return of your +letters. You have infinitely obliged me by this last, and by pressing +for an admission for me, though it succeeded not. + +Once more, how could I be such a villain to so divine a creature! Yet +love her all the time, as never man loved woman!--Curse upon my +contriving genius!--Curse upon my intriguing head, and upon my seconding +heart!--To sport with the fame, with the honour, with the life, of such +an angel of a woman!--O my d----d incredulity! That, believing her to be +a woman, I must hope to find her a woman! On my incredulity, that there +could be such virtue (virtue for virtue's sake) in the sex, founded I my +hope of succeeding with her. + +But say not, Jack, that she must leave us yet. If she recover, and if I +can but re-obtain her favour, then, indeed, will life be life to me. The +world never saw such an husband as I will make. I will have no will but +her's. She shall conduct me in all my steps. She shall open and direct +my prospects, and turn every motion of my heart as she pleases. + +You tell me, in your letter, that at eleven o'clock she had sweet rest; +and my servant acquaints me, from Mrs. Smith, that she has had a good +night. What hopes does this fill me with! I have given the fellow five +guineas for his good news, to be divided between him and his +fellow-servant. + +Dear, dear Jack! confirm this to me in thy next--for Heaven's sake, do!-- +Tell the doctor I'll make a present of a thousand guineas if he recover +her. Ask if a consultation then be necessary. + +Adieu, dear Belford! Confirm, I beseech thee, the hopes that now, with +sovereign gladness, have taken possession of a heart, that, next to +her's, is + +Thine. + + + +LETTER LXVIII + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDN. MORN. EIGHT O'CLOCK, (6 SEPT.) + + +Your servant arrived here before I was stirring. I sent him to Smith's +to inquire how the lady was; and ordered him to call upon me when he came +back. I was pleased to hear she had tolerable rest. As soon as I had +dispatched him with the letter I had written over night, I went to attend +her. + +I found her up, and dressed; in a white satin night-gown. Ever elegant; +but now more so than I had seen her for a week past: her aspect serenely +cheerful. + +She mentioned the increased dimness of her eyes, and the tremor which had +invaded her limbs. If this be dying, said she, there is nothing at all +shocking in it. My body hardly sensible of pain, my mind at ease, my +intellects clear and perfect as ever. What a good and gracious God have +I!--For this is what I always prayed for. + +I told her it was not so serene with you. + +There is not the same reason for it, replied she. 'Tis a choice comfort, +Mr. Belford, at the winding up of our short story, to be able to say, I +have rather suffered injuries myself, than offered them to others. I +bless God, though I have been unhappy, as the world deems it, and once I +thought more so than at present I think I ought to have done, since my +calamities were to work out for me my everlasting happiness; yet have I +not wilfully made any one creature so. I have no reason to grieve for +any thing but for the sorrow I have given my friends. + +But pray, Mr. Belford, remember me in the best manner to my cousin +Morden; and desire him to comfort them, and to tell them, that all would +have been the same, had they accepted of my true penitence, as I wish and +as I trust the Almighty has done. + +I was called down: it was to Harry, who was just returned from Miss +Howe's, to whom he carried the lady's letter. The stupid fellow being +bid to make haste with it, and return as soon as possible, staid not +until Miss Howe had it, she being at the distance of five minutes, +although Mrs. Howe would have had him stay, and sent a man and horse +purposely with it to her daughter. + + +WEDNESDAY MORNING, TEN O'CLOCK. + +The poor lady is just recovered from a fainting fit, which has left her +at death's door. Her late tranquillity and freedom from pain seemed but +a lightening, as Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith call it. + +By my faith, Lovelace, I had rather part with all the friends I have in +the world, than with this lady. I never knew what a virtuous, a holy +friendship, as I may call mine to her, was before. But to be so new to +it, and to be obliged to forego it so soon, what an affliction! Yet, +thank Heaven, I lose her not by my own fault!--But 'twould be barbarous +not to spare thee now. + +She has sent for the divine who visited her before, to pray with her. + + + +LETTER LXIX + +MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. +KENSINGTON, WEDNESDAY NOON. + + +Like Æsop's traveller, thou blowest hot and cold, life and death, in the +same breath, with a view, no doubt, to distract me. How familiarly dost +thou use the words, dying, dimness, tremor? Never did any mortal ring so +many changes on so few bells. Thy true father, I dare swear, was a +butcher, or an undertaker, by the delight thou seemest to take in scenes +of death and horror. Thy barbarous reflection, that thou losest her not +by thy own fault, is never to be forgiven. Thou hast but one way to +atone for the torments thou hast given me, and that is, by sending me +word that she is better, and will recover. Whether it be true or not, +let me be told so, and I will go abroad rejoicing and believing it, and +my wishes and imaginations shall make out all the rest. + +If she live but one year, that I may acquit myself to myself (no matter +for the world!) that her death is not owing to me, I will compound for +the rest. + +Will neither vows nor prayers save her? I never prayed in my life, put +all the years of it together, as I have done for this fortnight past: and +I have most sincerely repented of all my baseness to her--And will +nothing do? + +But after all, if she recovers not, this reflection must be my comfort; +and it is truth; that her departure will be owing rather to wilfulness, +to downright female wilfulness, than to any other cause. + +It is difficult for people, who pursue the dictates of a violent +resentment, to stop where first they designed to stop. + +I have the charity to believe, that even James and Arabella Harlowe, at +first, intended no more by the confederacy they formed against this their +angel sister, than to disgrace and keep her down, lest (sordid wretches!) +their uncles should follow the example their grandfather had set, to +their detriment. + +So this lady, as I suppose, intended only at first to vex and plague me; +and, finding she could do it to purpose, her desire of revenge insensibly +became stronger in her than the desire of life; and now she is willing to +die, as an event which she thinks will cut my heart-strings asunder. And +still, the more to be revenged, puts on the Christian, and forgives me. + +But I'll have none of her forgiveness! My own heart tells me I do not +deserve it; and I cannot bear it!--And what is it but a mere verbal +forgiveness, as ostentatiously as cruelly given with a view to magnify +herself, and wound me deeper! A little, dear, specious--but let me stop +--lest I blaspheme! + + +*** + + +Reading over the above, I am ashamed of my ramblings; but what wouldest +have me do?--Seest thou not that I am but seeking to run out of myself, +in hope to lose myself; yet, that I am unable to do either? + +If ever thou lovedst but half so fervently as I love--but of that thy +heavy soul is not capable. + +Send me word by the next, I conjure thee, in the names of all her kindred +saints and angels, that she is living, and likely to live!--If thou +sendest ill news, thou wilt be answerable for the consequences, whether +it be fatal to the messenger, or to + +Thy +LOVELACE. + + + +LETTER LXX + +MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. +WEDNESDAY, ELEVEN O'CLOCK. + + +Dr. H. has just been here. He tarried with me till the minister had done +praying by the lady; and then we were both admitted. Mr. Goddard, who +came while the doctor and the clergyman were with her, went away with +them when they went. They took a solemn and everlasting leave of her, as +I have no scruple to say; blessing her, and being blessed by her; and +wishing (when it came to be their lot) for an exit as happy as her's is +likely to be. + +She had again earnestly requested of the doctor his opinion how long it +was now probable that she could continue; and he told her, that he +apprehended she would hardly see to-morrow night. She said, she should +number the hours with greater pleasure than ever she numbered any in her +life on the most joyful occasion. + +How unlike poor Belton's last hours her's! See the infinite differences +in the effects, on the same awful and affecting occasion, between a good +and a bad conscience! + +This moment a man is come from Miss Howe with a letter. Perhaps I shall +be able to send you the contents. + + +*** + + +She endeavoured several times with earnestness, but in vain, to read the +letter of her dear friend. The writing, she said, was too fine for her +grosser sight, and the lines staggered under her eye. And indeed she +trembled so, she could not hold the paper; and at last desired Mrs. +Lovick to read it to her, the messenger waiting for an answer. + +Thou wilt see in Miss Howe's letter, how different the expression of the +same impatience, and passionate love, is, when dictated by the gentler +mind of a woman, from that which results from a mind so boisterous and +knotty as thine. For Mrs. Lovick will transcribe it, and I shall send +it--to be read in this place, if thou wilt. + + +MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE +TUESDAY, SEPT. 5. + + +O MY DEAREST FRIEND! + +What will become of your poor Anna Howe! I see by your writing, as well +as read by your own account, (which, were you not very, very ill, you +would have touched more tenderly,) how it is with you! Why have I thus +long delayed to attend you! Could I think, that the comfortings of a +faithful friend were as nothing to a gentle mind in distress, that I +could be prevailed upon to forbear visiting you so much as once in all +this time! I, as well as every body else, to desert and abandon my dear +creature to strangers! What will become of you, if you be as bad as my +apprehensions make you! + +I will set out this moment, little as the encouragement is that you give +me to do so! My mother is willing I should! Why, O why was she not +before willing? + +Yet she persuades me too, (lest I should be fatally affected were I to +find my fears too well justified,) to wait the return of this messenger, +who rides our swiftest horse.--God speed him with good news to me--One +line from your hand by him!--Send me but one line to bid me attend you! +I will set out the moment, the very moment I receive it. I am now +actually ready to do so! And if you love me, as I love you, the sight +of me will revive you to my hopes.--But why, why, when I can think this, +did I not go up sooner! + +Blessed Heaven! deny not to my prayers, my friend, my admonisher, my +adviser, at a time so critical to myself. + +But methinks, your style and sentiments are too well connected, too +full of life and vigour, to give cause for so much despair as thy +staggering pen seems to forbode. + +I am sorry I was not at home, [I must add thus much, though the servant +is ready mounted at the door,] when Mr. Belford's servant came with your +affecting letter. I was at Miss Lloyd's. My mamma sent it to me--and I +came home that instant. But he was gone: he would not stay, it seems. +Yet I wanted to ask him an hundred thousand questions. But why delay I +thus my messenger? I have a multitude of things to say to you--to advise +with you about!--You shall direct me in every thing. I will obey the +holding up of your finger. But, if you leave me--what is the world, or +any thing in it, to your + +ANNA HOWE? + + +The effect this letter had on the lady, who is so near the end which the +fair writer so much apprehends and deplores, obliged Mrs. Lovick to make +many breaks in reading it, and many changes of voice. + +This is a friend, said the divine lady, (taking the letter in her hand, +and kissing it,) worth wishing to live for.--O my dear Anna Howe! how +uninterruptedly sweet and noble has been our friendship!--But we shall +one day meet, (and this hope must comfort us both,) never to part again! +Then, divested of the shades of body, shall be all light and all mind!-- +Then how unalloyed, how perfect, will be our friendship! Our love then +will have one and the same adorable object, and we shall enjoy it and +each other to all eternity! + +She said, her dear friend was so earnest for a line or two, that she fain +would write, if she could: and she tried--but to no purpose. She could +dictate, however, she believed; and desired Mrs. Lovick would take pen +and paper. Which she did, and then she dictated to her. I would have +withdrawn; but at her desire staid. + +She wandered a good deal at first. She took notice that she did. And +when she got into a little train, not pleasing herself, she apologized to +Mrs. Lovick for making her begin again and again; and said, that the +third time should go, let it be as it would. + +She dictated the farewell part without hesitation; and when she came to +blessing and subscription, she took the pen, and dropping on her knees, +supported by Mrs. Lovick, wrote the conclusion; but Mrs. Lovick was +forced to guide her hand. + +You will find the sense surprisingly entire, her weakness considered. + +I made the messenger wait while I transcribed it. I have endeavoured to +imitate the subscriptive part; and in the letter made pauses where, to +the best of my remembrance, she paused. In nothing that relates to this +admirable lady can I be too minute. + + +WEDN. NEAR THREE O'CLOCK. + + +MY DEAREST MISS HOWE, + +You must not be surprised--nor grieved--that Mrs. Lovick writes for me. +Although I cannot obey you, and write with my pen, yet my heart writes +by her's--accept it so--it is the nearest to obedience I can! + +And now, what ought I to say? What can I say?--But why should not you +know the truth? since soon you must--very soon. + +Know then, and let your tears be those, if of pity, of joyful pity! for +I permit you to shed a few, to embalm, as I may say, a fallen blossom-- +know then, that the good doctor, and the pious clergyman, and the worthy +apothecary, have just now--with joint benedictions--taken their last +leave of me; and the former bids me hope--do, my dearest, let me say hope +--hope for my enlargement before to-morrow sun-set. + +Adieu, therefore, my dearest friend!--Be this your consolation, as it is +mine, that in God's good time we shall meet in a blessed eternity, never +more to part!--Once more, then, adieu!--and be happy!--Which a generous +nature cannot be, unless--to its power--it makes others so too. + +God for ever bless you!--prays, dropt on my bended knees, although +supported upon them, + +Your obliged, grateful, affectionate, +CL. HARLOWE. + + +*** + + +When I had transcribed and sealed this letter, by her direction, I gave +it to the messenger myself, who told me that Miss Howe waited for nothing +but his return to set out for London. + +Thy servant is just come; so I will close here. Thou art a merciless +master. These two fellows are battered to death by thee, to use a female +word; and all female words, though we are not sure of their derivation, +have very significant meanings. I believe, in their hearts, they wish +the angel in the Heaven that is ready to receive her, and thee at the +proper place, that there might be an end of their flurries--another word +of the same gender. + +What a letter hast thou sent me!--Poor Lovelace!--is all the answer I +will return. + + +FIVE O'CLOCK.] Col. Morden is this moment arrived. + + + +LETTER LXXI + +MR. BELFORD +[IN CONTINUATION.] +EIGHT IN THE EVENING. + + +I had but just time, in my former, to tell you that Col. Morden was +arrived. He was on horseback, attended by two servants, and alighted +at the door just as the clock struck five. Mrs. Smith was then below in +her back-shop, weeping, her husband with her, who was as much affected as +she; Mrs. Lovick having left them a little before, in tears likewise; for +they had been bemoaning one another; joining in opinion that the +admirable lady would not live the night over. She had told them, it was +her opinion too, from some numbnesses, which she called the forerunners +of death, and from an increased inclination to doze. + +The Colonel, as Mrs. Smith told me afterwards, asked with great +impatience, the moment he alighted, how Miss Harlowe was? She answered-- +Alive!--but, she feared, drawing on apace.--Good God! said he, with his +hands and eyes lifted up, can I see her? My name is Morden. I have the +honour to be nearly related to her.--Step up, pray, and let her know, +(she is sensible, I hope,) that I am here--Who is with her? + +Nobody but her nurse, and Mrs. Lovick, a widow gentlewoman, who is as +careful of her as if she were her mother. + +And more careful too, interrupted he, or she is not careful at all---- + +Except a gentleman be with her, one Mr. Belford, continued Mrs. Smith, +who has been the best friend she has had. + +If Mr. Belford be with her, surely I may--but pray step up, and let Mr. +Belford know that I shall take it for a favour to speak with him first. + +Mrs. Smith came up to me in my new apartment. I had but just dispatched +your servant, and was asking her nurse if I might be again admitted? Who +answered, that she was dozing in the elbow chair, having refused to lie +down, saying, she should soon, she hoped, lie down for good. + +The Colonel, who is really a fine gentleman, received me with great +politeness. After the first compliments--My kinswoman, Sir, said he, is +more obliged to you than to any of her own family. For my part, I have +been endeavouring to move so many rocks in her favour; and, little +thinking the dear creature so very bad, have neglected to attend her, as +I ought to have done the moment I arrived; and would, had I known how ill +she was, and what a task I should have had with the family. But, Sir, +your friend has been excessively to blame; and you being so intimately +his friend, has made her fare the worse for your civilities to her. But +are there no hopes of her recovery? + +The doctors have left her, with the melancholy declaration that there are +none. + +Has she had good attendance, Sir? A skilful physician? I hear these +good folks have been very civil and obliging to her. + +Who could be otherwise? said Mrs. Smith, weeping.--She is the sweetest +lady in the world! + +The character, said the Colonel, lifting up his eyes and one hand, that +she has from every living creature!--Good God! How could your accursed +friend-- + +And how could her cruel parents? interrupted I.--We may as easily account +for him, as for them. + +Too true! returned me, the vileness of the profligates of our sex +considered, whenever they can get any of the other into their power. + +I satisfied him about the care that had been taken of her, and told him +of the friendly and even paternal attendance she had had from Dr. H. and +Mr. Goddard. + +He was impatient to attend her, having not seen her, as he said, since +she was twelve years old; and that then she gave promises of being one of +the finest women in England. + +She was so, replied I, a very few months ago: and, though emaciated, she +will appear to you to have confirmed those promises; for her features are +so regular and exact, her proportions so fine, and her manner so +inimitably graceful, that, were she only skin and bone, she must be a +beauty. + +Mrs. Smith, at his request, stept up, and brought us down word that Mrs. +Lovick and her nurse were with her; and that she was in so sound a sleep, +leaning upon the former in her elbow-chair, that she had neither heard +her enter the room, nor go out. The Colonel begged, if not improper, +that he might see her, though sleeping. He said, that his impatience +would not let him stay till he awaked. Yet he would not have her +disturbed; and should be glad to contemplate her sweet features, when she +saw not him; and asked, if she thought he could not go in, and come out, +without disturbing her? + +She believed he might, she answered; for her chair's back was towards the +door. + +He said he would take care to withdraw, if she awoke, that his sudden +appearance might not surprise her. + +Mrs. Smith, stepping up before us, bid Mrs. Lovick and nurse not stir, +when we entered; and then we went up softly together. + +We beheld the lady in a charming attitude. Dressed, as I told you +before, in her virgin white. She was sitting in her elbow-chair, Mrs. +Lovick close by her, in another chair, with her left arm round her neck, +supporting it, as it were; for, it seems, the lady had bid her do so, +saying, she had been a mother to her, and she would delight herself in +thinking she was in her mamma's arms; for she found herself drowsy; +perhaps, she said, for the last time she should be so. + +One faded cheek rested upon the good woman's bosom, the kindly warmth of +which had overspread it with a faint, but charming flush; the other paler +and hollow, as if already iced over by death. Her hands white as the +lily, with her meandering veins more transparently blue than ever I had +seen even her's, (veins so soon, alas! to be choked up by the congealment +of that purple stream, which already so languidly creeps, rather than +flows, through them!) her hands hanging lifelessly, one before her, the +other grasped by the right-hand of the kind widow, whose tears bedewed +the sweet face which her motherly boson supported, though unfelt by the +fair sleeper; and either insensibly to the good woman, or what she would +not disturb her to wipe off, or to change her posture: her aspect was +sweetly calm and serene: and though she started now and then, yet her +sleep seemed easy; her breath, indeed short and quick; but tolerably +free, and not like that of a dying person. + +In this heart-moving attitude she appeared to us when we approached her, +and came to have her lovely face before us. + +The Colonel, sighing often, gazed upon her with his arms folded, and with +the most profound and affectionate attention; till at last, on her +starting, and fetching her breath with greater difficulty than before, he +retired to a screen, that was drawn before her house, as she calls it, +which, as I have heretofore observed, stands under one of the windows. +This screen was placed there at the time she found herself obliged to +take to her chamber; and in the depth of our concern, and the fulness of +other discourse at our first interview, I had forgotten to apprize the +Colonel of what he would probably see. + +Retiring thither, he drew out his handkerchief, and, overwhelmed with +grief, seemed unable to speak; but, on casting his eye behind the screen, +he soon broke silence; for, struck with the shape of the coffin, he +lifted up a purplish-coloured cloth that was spread over it, and, +starting back, Good God! said he, what's here? + +Mrs. Smith standing next him, Why, said he, with great emotion, is my +cousin suffered to indulge her sad reflections with such an object before +her? + +Alas! Sir, replied the good woman, who should controul her? We are all +strangers about her, in a manner: and yet we have expostulated with her +upon this sad occasion. + +I ought, said I, (stepping softly up to him, the lady again falling into +a doze,) to have apprized you of this. I was here when it was brought +in, and never was so shocked in my life. But she had none of her friends +about her, and no reason to hope for any of them to come near her; and, +assured she should not recover, she was resolved to leave as little as +possible, especially as to what related to her person, to her executor. +But it is not a shocking object to her, though it be to every body else. + +Curse upon the hard-heartedness of those, said he, who occasioned her to +make so sad a provision for herself!--What must her reflections have been +all the time she was thinking of it, and giving orders about it? And +what must they be every time she turns her head towards it? These +uncommon genius's--but indeed she should have been controuled in it, had +I been here. + +The lady fetched a profound sigh, and, starting, it broke off our talk; +and the Colonel then withdrew farther behind the screen, that his sudden +appearance might not surprise her. + +Where am I?--said she. How drowsy I am! How long have I dozed? Don't +go, Sir, (for I was retiring,) I am very stupid, and shall be more and +more so, I suppose. + +She then offered to raise herself; but being ready to faint through +weakness, was forced to sit down again, reclining her head on her chair +back; and, after a few moments, I believe now, my good friends, said she, +all your kind trouble will soon be over. I have slept, but am not +refreshed, and my fingers' ends seem numbed--have no feeling! (holding +them up,)--'tis time to send the letter to my good Norton. + +Shall I, Madam, send my servant post with it? + +O no, Sir, I thank you. It will reach the dear woman too soon, (as she +will think,) by the post. + +I told her this was not post-day. + +Is it Wednesday still, said she; bless me! I know not how the time goes +--but very tediously, 'tis plain. And now I think I must soon take to my +bed. All will be most conveniently, and with least trouble, over there-- +will it not, Mrs. Lovick?--I think, Sir, turning to me, I have left +nothing to these last incapacitating hours. Nothing either to say, or to +do--I bless God, I have not. If I had, how unhappy should I be! Can +you, Sir, remind me of any thing necessary to be done or said to make +your office easy? + +If, Madam, your cousin Morden should come, you would be glad to see him, +I presume? + +I am too weak to wish to see my cousin now. It would but discompose me, +and him too. Yet, if he come while I can see him, I will see him, were +it but to thank him for former favours, and for his present kind +intentions to me. Has any body been here from him? + +He has called, and will be here, Madam, in half an hour; but he feared to +surprise you. + +Nothing can surprise me now, except my mamma were to favour me with her +last blessing in person. That would be a welcome surprise to me, even +yet. But did my cousin come purposely to town to see me? + +Yes, Madam, I took the liberty to let him know, by a line last Monday, +how ill you were. + +You are very kind, Sir. I am, and have been greatly obliged to you. But +I think I shall be pained to see him now, because he will be concerned to +see me. And yet, as I am not so ill as I shall presently be--the sooner +he comes the better. But if he come, what shall I do about the screen? +He will chide me, very probably, and I cannot bear chiding now. Perhaps, +[leaning upon Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith,] I can walk into the next +apartment to receive him. + +She motioned to rise, but was ready to faint again, and forced to sit +still. + +The Colonel was in a perfect agitation behind the screen to hear this +discourse; and twice, unseen by his cousin, was coming from it towards +her; but retreated for fear of surprising her too much. + +I stept to him, and favoured his retreat; she only saying, Are you going, +Mr. Belford? Are you sent for down? Is my cousin come? For she heard +somebody step softly across the room, and thought it to be me; her +hearing being more perfect than her sight. + +I told her, I believed he was; and she said, We must make the best of it, +Mrs. Lovick, and Mrs. Smith. I shall otherwise most grievously shock my +poor cousin: for he loved me dearly once.--Pray give me a few of the +doctor's last drops in water, to keep up my spirits for this one +interview; and that is all, I believe, that can concern me now. + +The Colonel, (who heard all this,) sent in his name; and I, pretending to +go down to him, introduced the afflicted gentleman; she having first +ordered the screen to be put as close to the window as possible, that he +might not see what was behind it; while he, having heard what she had +said about it, was determined to take no notice of it. + +He folded the angel in his arms as she sat, dropping down on one knee; +for, supporting herself upon the two elbows of the chair, she attempted +to rise, but could not. Excuse, my dear Cousin, said she, excuse me, +that I cannot stand up--I did not expect this favour now. But I am glad +of this opportunity to thank you for all your generous goodness to me. + +I never, my best-beloved and dearest Cousin, said he, (with eyes running +over,) shall forgive myself, that I did not attend you sooner. Little +did I think you were so ill; nor do any of your friends believe it. If +they did-- + +If they did, repeated she, interrupting him, I should have had more +compassion from them. I am sure I should--But pray, Sir, how did you +leave them? Are you reconciled to them? If you are not, I beg, if you +love your poor Clarissa, that you will; for every widened difference +augments but my fault; since that is the foundation of all. + +I had been expecting to hear from them in your favour, my dear Cousin, +said he, for some hours, when this gentleman's letter arrived, which +hastened me up; but I have the account of your grandfather's estate to +make up with you, and have bills and drafts upon their banker for the +sums due to you; which they desire you may receive, lest you should have +occasion for money. And this is such an earnest of an approaching +reconciliation, that I dare to answer for all the rest being according to +your wishes, if---- + +Ah! Sir, interrupted she, with frequent breaks and pauses--I wish--I wish +this does not rather show that, were I to live, they would have nothing +more to say to me. I never had any pride in being independent of them; +all my actions, when I might have made myself more independent, show this +--But what avail these reflections now?--I only beg, Sir, that you, and +this gentleman--to whom I am exceedingly obliged--will adjust those +matters--according to the will I have written. Mr. Belford will excuse +me; but it was in truth more necessity than choice that made me think of +giving him the trouble he so kindly accepts. Had I the happiness to see +you, my Cousin, sooner--or to know that you still honoured me with your +regard--I should not have had the assurance to ask this favour of him.-- +But, though the friend of Mr. Lovelace, he is a man of honour, and he +will make peace rather than break it. And, my dear Cousin, let me beg +of you while I have nearer relations than my Cousin Morden, dear as you +are, and always were to me, you have no title to avenge my wrongs upon +him who has been the occasion of them. But I wrote to you my mind on +this subject, and my reasons--and I hope I need not further urge them. + +I must do Mr. Lovelace so much justice, answered he, wiping his eyes, as +to witness how sincerely he repents him of his ungrateful baseness to +you, and how ready he is to make you all the amends in his power. He +owns his wickedness, and your merit. If he did not, I could not pass it +over, though you have nearer relations; for, my dear Cousin, did not your +grandfather leave me in trust for you? And should I think myself +concerned for your fortune, and not for your honour? But since he is so +desirous to do you justice, I have the less to say; and you may make +yourself entirely easy on that account. + +I thank you, thank you, Sir, said she;--all is now as I wished.--But I am +very faint, very weak. I am sorry I cannot hold up; that I cannot better +deserve the honour of this visit--but it will not be--and saying this, she +sunk down in her chair, and was silent. + +Hereupon we both withdrew, leaving word that we would be at the Bedford +Head, if any thing extraordinary happened. + +We bespoke a little repast, having neither of us dined; and, while it was +getting ready, you may guess at the subject of our discourse. Both +joined in lamentation for the lady's desperate state; admired her +manifold excellencies; severely condemned you and her friends. Yet, to +bring him into better opinion of you, I read to him some passages from +your last letters, which showed your concern for the wrongs you had done +her, and your deep remorse: and he said it was a dreadful thing to labour +under the sense of a guilt so irredeemable. + +We procured Mr. Goddard, (Dr. H. not being at home,) once more to visit +her, and to call upon us in his return. He was so good as to do so; but +he tarried with her not five minutes; and told us, that she was drawing +on apace; that he feared she would not live till morning; and that she +wished to see Colonel Morden directly. + +The Colonel made excuses where none were needed; and though our little +refection was just brought in, he went away immediately. + +I could not touch a morsel; and took pen and ink to amuse myself, and +oblige you; knowing how impatient you would be for a few lines: for, from +what I have recited, you see it was impossible I could withdraw to write +when your servant came at half an hour after five, or have an opportunity +for it till now; and this is accidental; and yet your poor fellow was +afraid to go away with the verbal message I sent; importing, as no doubt +he told you, that the Colonel was with us, the lady excessively ill, and +that I could not stir to write a line. + + +TEN O'CLOCK. + +The Colonel sent to me afterwards, to tell me that the lady having been +in convulsions, he was so much disordered that he could not possibly +attend me. + +I have sent every half hour to know how she does--and just now I have the +pleasure to hear that her convulsions have left her; and that she is gone +to rest in a much quieter way than could be expected. + +Her poor cousin is very much indisposed; yet will not stir out of the +house while she is in such a way; but intends to lie down on a couch, +having refused any other accommodation. + +END OF VOL. 8. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clarissa, Or The History Of A Young +Lady, Volume 8, by Samuel Richardson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12180 *** |