LETTER VIII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.SUNDAY NIGHT--MONDAY MORNING.
I went down with revenge in my heart, the contents of Miss Howe's letteralmost engrossing me, the moment that Miss Harlowe and Mrs. Moore(accompanied by Miss Rawlins) came in: but in my countenance all thegentle, the placid, the serene, that the glass could teach; and in mybehaviour all the polite, that such an unpolite creature, as she hasoften told me I am, could put on.
Miss Rawlins was sent for home almost as soon as she came in, toentertain an unexpected visiter; to her great regret, as well as to thedisappointment of my fair-one, as I could perceive from the looks ofboth: for they had agreed, it seems, if I went to town, as I said Iintended to do, to take a walk upon the Heath, at least in Mrs. Moore'sgarden; and who knows, what might have been the issue, had the spirit ofcuriosity in the one met with the spirit of communication in the other?
Miss Rawlins promised to return, if possible: but sent to excuse herself:her visiter intending to stay with her all night.
I rejoiced in my heart at her message; and, after much supplication,obtained the favour of my beloved's company for another walk in thegarden, having, as I told her, abundance of things to say, to propose,and to be informed of, in order ultimately to govern myself in my futuresteps.
She had vouchsafed, I should have told thee, with eyes turned from me,and in a half-aside attitude, to sip two dishes of tea in my company--Dear soul!--How anger unpolishes the most polite! for I never saw MissHarlowe behave so awkwardly. I imagined she knew not how to be awkward.
When we were in the garden, I poured my whole soul into her attentiveear; and besought her returning favour.
She told me, that she had formed her scheme for her future life: that,vile as the treatment was which she had received from me, that was notall the reason she had for rejecting my suit: but that, on the maturestdeliberation, she was convinced that she could neither be happy with me,nor make me happy; and she injoined me, for both our sakes, to think nomore of her.
The Captain, I told her, was rid down post, in a manner, to forward mywishes with her uncle.--Lady Betty and Miss Montague were undoubtedlyarrived in town by this time. I would set out early in the morning toattend them. They adored her. They longed to see her. They would seeher.--They would not be denied her company in Oxfordshire. Whither couldshe better go, to be free from her brother's insults?--Whither, to beabsolutely made unapprehensive of any body else?--Might I have any hopesof her returning favour, if Miss Howe could be prevailed upon tointercede for me?
Miss Howe prevailed upon to intercede for you! repeated she, with ascornful bridle, but a very pretty one.--And there she stopt.
I repeated the concern it would be to me to be under a necessity ofmentioning the misunderstanding to Lady Betty and my cousin, as amisunderstanding still to be made up; and as if I were of very littleconsequence to a dear creature who was of so much to me; urging, thatthese circumstances would extremely lower me not only in my own opinion,but in that of my relations.
But still she referred to Miss Howe's next letter; and all the concessionI could bring her to in this whole conference, was, that she would waitthe arrival and visit of the two ladies, if they came in a day or two, orbefore she received the expected letter from Miss Howe.
Thank Heaven for this! thought I. And now may I go to town with hopes atmy return to find thee, dearest, where I shall leave thee.
But yet, as she may find reasons to change her mind in my absence, Ishall not entirely trust to this. My fellow, therefore, who is in thehouse, and who, by Mrs. Bevis's kind intelligence, will know every stepshe can take, shall have Andrew and a horse ready, to give me immediatenotice of her motions; and moreover, go whither she will, he shall be oneof her retinue, though unknown to herself, if possible.
This was all I could make of the fair inexorable. Should I be glad ofit, or sorry for it?--
Glad I believe: and yet my pride is confoundedly abated, to think that Ihad so little hold in the affections of this daughter of the Harlowes.
Don't tell me that virtue and principle are her guides on this occasion!--'Tis pride, a greater pride than my own, that governs her. Love, shehas none, thou seest; nor ever had; at least not in a superior degree.Love, that deserves the name, never was under the dominion of prudence,or of any reasoning power. She cannot bear to be thought a woman, Iwarrant! And if, in the last attempt, I find her not one, what will shebe the worse for the trial?--No one is to blame for suffering an evil hecannot shun or avoid.
Were a general to be overpowered, and robbed by a highwayman, would he beless fit for the command of an army on that account?--If indeed thegeneral, pretending great valour, and having boasted that he never wouldbe robbed, were to make but faint resistance when he was brought to thetest, and to yield his purse when he was master of his own sword, thenindeed will the highwayman who robs him be thought the braver man.
But from these last conferences am I furnished with one argument indefence of my favourite purpose, which I never yet pleaded.
O Jack! what a difficulty must a man be allowed to have to conquer apredominant passion, be it what it will, when the gratifying of it is inhis power, however wrong he knows it to be to resolve to gratify it!Reflect upon this; and then wilt thou be able to account for, if not toexcuse, a projected crime, which has habit to plead for it, in a breastas stormy as uncontroulable!
This that follows is my new argument--
Should she fail in the trial; should I succeed; and should she refuse togo on with me; and even resolve not to marry me (of which I can have nonotion); and should she disdain to be obliged to me for the handsomeprovision I should be proud to make for her, even to the half of myestate; yet cannot she be altogether unhappy--Is she not entitled to anindependent fortune? Will not Col. Morden, as her trustee, put her inpossession of it? And did she not in our former conference point out theway of life, that she always preferred to the married life--to wit, 'Totake her good Norton for her directress and guide, and to live upon herown estate in the manner her grandfather desired she should live?'*
* See Letter III. of this volume.
It is moreover to be considered that she cannot, according to her ownnotions, recover above one half of her fame, were we not to intermarry;so much does she think she has suffered by her going off with me. Andwill she not be always repining and mourning for the loss of the otherhalf?--And if she must live a life of such uneasiness and regret forhalf, may she not as well repine and mourn for the whole?
Nor, let me tell thee, will her own scheme or penitence, in this case, behalf so perfect, if she do not fall, as if she does: for what a foolishpenitent will she make, who has nothing to repent of!--She piquesherself, thou knowest, and makes it matter of reproach to me, that shewent not off with me by her own consent; but was tricked out of herself.
Nor upbraid thou me upon the meditated breach of vows so repeatedly made.She will not, thou seest, permit me to fulfil them. And if she would,this I have to say, that, at the time I made the most solemn of them, Iwas fully determined to keep them. But what prince thinks himselfobliged any longer to observe the articles of treaties, the most sacredlysworn to, than suits with his interest or inclination; although theconsequence of the infraction must be, as he knows, the destruction ofthousands.
Is not this then the result of all, that Miss Clarissa Harlowe, if it benot her own fault, may be as virtuous after she has lost her honour, asit is called, as she was before? She may be a more eminent example toher sex; and if she yield (a little yield) in the trial, may be acompleter penitent. Nor can she, but by her own wilfulness, be reducedto low fortunes.
And thus may her old nurse and she; an old coachman; and a pair of oldcoach-horses; and two or three old maid-servants, and perhaps a very oldfootman or two, (for every thing will be old and penitential about her,)live very comfortably together; reading old sermons, and oldprayer-books; and relieving old men and old women; and giving old lessons,and old warnings, upon new
subjects, as well as old ones, to the youngladies of her neighbourhood; and so pass on to a good old age, doing agreat deal of good both by precept and example in her generation.
And is a woman who can live thus prettily without controul; who ever didprefer, and who still prefers, the single to the married life; and whowill be enabled to do every thing that the plan she had formed willdirect her to do; to be said to be ruined, undone, and such sort ofstuff?--I have no patience with the pretty fools, who use those strongwords, to describe a transitory evil; an evil which a mere church-formmakes none?
At this rate of romancing, how many flourishing ruins dost thou, as wellas I, know? Let us but look about us, and we shall see some of thehaughtiest and most censorious spirits among out acquaintance of that sexnow passing for chaste wives, of whom strange stories might be told; andothers, whose husbands' hearts have been made to ache for their gaieties,both before and after marriage; and yet know not half so much of them, assome of us honest fellows could tell them.
But, having thus satisfied myself in relation to the worst that canhappen to this charming creature; and that it will be her own fault, ifshe be unhappy; I have not at all reflected upon what is likely to be myown lot.
This has always been my notion, though Miss Howe grudges us rakes thebest of the sex, and says, that the worst is too good for us,* that thewife of a libertine ought to be pure, spotless, uncontaminated. To whatpurpose has such a one lived a free life, but to know the world, and tomake his advantages of it!--And, to be very serious, it would be amisfortune to the public for two persons, heads of a family, to be bothbad; since, between two such, a race of varlets might be propagated(Lovelaces and Belfords, if thou wilt) who might do great mischief in theworld.
Thou seest at bottom that I am not an abandoned fellow; and that there isa mixture of gravity in me. This, as I grow older, may increase; andwhen my active capacity begins to abate, I may sit down with thepreacher, and resolve all my past life into vanity and vexation ofspirit.
This is certain, that I shall never find a woman so well suited to mytaste as Miss Clarissa Harlowe. I only wish that I may have such a ladyas her to comfort and adorn my setting sun. I have often thought it veryunhappy for us both, that so excellent a creature sprang up a little toolate for my setting out, and a little too early in my progress, before Ican think of returning. And yet, as I have picked up the sweet travellerin my way, I cannot help wishing that she would bear me company in therest of my journey, although she were stepping out of her own path tooblige me. And then, perhaps, we could put up in the evening at the sameinn; and be very happy in each other's conversation; recounting thedifficulties and dangers we had passed in our way to it.
I imagine that thou wilt be apt to suspect that some passages in thisletter were written in town. Why, Jack, I cannot but say that theWestminster air is a little grosser than that at Hampstead; and theconversation of Mrs. Sinclair and the nymphs less innocent than Mrs.Moore's and Miss Rawlins's. And I think in my heart I can say and writethose things at one place which I cannot at the other, nor indeed anywhere else.
I came to town about seven this morning--all necessary directions andprecautions remembered to be given.
I besought the favour of an audience before I set out. I was desirousto see which of her lovely faces she was pleased to put on, after anothernight had passed. But she was resolved, I found, to leave our quarrelopen. She would not give me an opportunity so much as to entreat heragain to close it, before the arrival of Lady Betty and my cousin.
I had notice from my proctor, by a few lines brought by a man and horse,just before I set out, that all difficulties had been for two days pastsurmounted; and that I might have the license for fetching.
I sent up the letter to my beloved, by Mrs. Bevis, with a repeatedrequest for admittance to her presence upon it; but neither did thisstand me in stead. I suppose she thought it would be allowing of theconsequences that were naturally to be expected to follow the obtainingof this instrument, if she had consented to see me on the contents ofthis letter, having refused me that honour before I sent it up to her.--No surprising her.--No advantage to be taken of her inattention to thenicest circumstances.
And now, Belford, I set out upon business.