LETTER XXXI.
Mr. Lovelace, To John Belford, Esq;
Sat. Sunday, Monday.
He gives, in several Letters, the substance of what is contained in the last seven of the Lady's. He tells his friend, that calling at the Lawn, in his
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way to M. Hall (for he owns that he went not to Windsor) he found the Letters from Lady Betty Lawrance, and his Cousin Montague, which Mrs. Greme was about sending to him by a special messenger.
He gives the particulars from Mrs. Greme's report, of what passed between the Lady and her, as in p. 21-23. and makes such declarations to Mrs. Greme of his honour and affection to the Lady, as put her upon writing the Letter to her Sister Sorlings, the contents of which are given in p. 128, 129.
He then accounts, as follows, for the serious humour he found her in, on his return:
Upon such good terms when we parted, I was surprised to find so solemn a brow upon my return, and her charming eyes red with weeping. But when I had understood she had received Letters from Miss Howe, it was natural to imagine, that that little devil had put her out of humour with me.
·It is easy for me to perceive, that my Charmer is more sullen when she receives, and has perused, a Letter from that vixen, than at other times. But as the sweet Maid shews, even then, more of passive grief, than of active spirit, I hope she is rather lamenting than plotting. And indeed for what now should she plot? when I am become a reformed man, and am hourly improving in my morals?---Nevertheless I must contrive some way or other to get at their correspondence---Only to see the turn of it; that's all.·
But no attempt of this kind must be made yet. A detected invasion in an article so sacred, would ruin me beyond retrieve. Nevertheless it vexes me to the heart to think, that she is hourly writing her whole mind on all that passes between her and me, I under the same roof with her, yet kept at such
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awful distance, that I dare not break into a correspondence, that may perhaps be a means to defeat all my devices.
Would it be very wicked, Jack, to knock her messenger o' the head, as he is carrying my Beloved's Letters, or returning with Miss Howe's?---To attempt to bribe him, and not succeed, would utterly ruin me. And the man seems to be one used to poverty, one who can sit down satisfied with it, and enjoy it; contented with hand-to-mouth conveniencies, and not aiming to live better to-morrow, than he does to-day, and than he did yesterday. Such a one is above temptation, unless it could come cloathed in the guise of truth and trust. What likelihood of corrupting a man who has no hope, no ambition?
Yet the rascal has but half life, and groans under that. Should I be answerable in his case for a whole life?---But hang the fellow! Let him live. Were I a King, or a Minister of State, an Antonio Perez (a) [Footnote a: 1Kb], it were another thing. And yet, on second thoughts, am I not a Rake, as it is called? And who ever knew a Rake stick at any-thing? But thou knowest, Jack, that the greatest half of my wickedness is vapour, to shew my invention; and to prove that I could be mischievous if I would.
·When he comes to that part, where the Lady says, (p. 136.) in a sarcastic way, waving her hand, and bowing, "Excuse me, good Mr. Lovelace, that I am willing to think the best of my Father," he gives a description of her air and manner, greatly to her advantage; and says,
·I could hardly forbear taking her into my arms
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upon it, in spite of an expected tempest. So much wit, so much beauty, such a lively manner, and such exceeding quickness and penetration! O Belford! she must be no-body's but mine. I can now account for, and justify, Herod's command to destroy his Mariamne, if he returned not alive from his Interview with Cæsar: For were I to know, that it were but probable, that any other man were to have this charming creature, even after my death, the very thought would be enough to provoke me to cut that man's throat, were he a Prince.
·I may be deemed by this Lady a rapid, a boisterous Lover---and she may like me the less for it: But all the Ladies I have met with till now, loved to raise a tempest, and to enjoy it: Nor did they ever raise it, but I enjoyed it too! ---Lord send us once happily to London!
·Mr. Lovelace gives the following account of his rude rapture, when he seized her hand, and put her, by his WILD manner; as she expresses it, p. 140. into so much terror:
·Darkness and light, I swore, were convertible at her pleasure: She could make any subject plausible. I was all error; she all perfection. And I snatched her hand; and, more than kissed it, I was ready to devour it. There was, I believe, a kind of phrensy in my manner, which threw her into a panic, like that of Semele perhaps, when the Thunderer, in all his majesty, surrounded with ten thousand celestial burning-glasses, was about to scorch her into a cinder.
·Had not my heart misgiven me, and had I not, just in time, recollected that she was not so much in my power, but that she might abandon me at her pleasure, having more friends in that house than I had, I should at that moment have made offers,
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that would have decided all, one way or other.---But, apprehending that I had shewed too much meaning in my passion, I gave it another turn.---But little did the Charmer think what an escape either she or I had (as the event might have proved) from the sudden gust of passion, which had like to have blown me into her arms. She was born, I told her, to make me happy, and to save a soul. ****
·He gives the rest of his vehement speech pretty nearly in the same words as the Lady gives them. And then proceeds:
·I saw she was frighted: And she would have had Reason, had the scene been London; and that place in London, which I have in view to carry her to. She confirmed me in my apprehension, that I had alarmed her too much: She told me, that she saw what my boasted regard to her Injunctions was; and she would take proper measures upon it, as I should soon find: That she was shocked at my violent airs; and if I hoped any favour from her, I must that instant withdraw, and leave her to her recollection.
·She pronounced this in such a manner, as shewed she was set upon it; and, having stept out of the gentle, the polite part I had so newly engaged to act, I thought a ready obedience was the best atonement. And indeed I was sensible, from her anger and repulses, that I wanted time myself for recollection. And so I withdrew, with the same veneration as a petitioning subject would withdraw from the presence of his Sovereign. But, Oh! Belford, had she had but the least patience with me---Had she but made me think, that she would forgive this initiatory ardor---Surely she will not be always thus guarded.---
·I had not been a moment by myself, but I was
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sensible, that I had half-forfeited my newly-assumed character. It is exceedingly difficult, thou seest, for an honest man to act in disguises: As the Poet says, Thrust Nature back with a pitchfork, it will return. I recollected, that what she had insisted upon, was really a part of that declared will, before she left her Father's house, to which in another case (to humble her) I had pretended to have an inviolable regard. And when I remembred her words of Taking her measures accordingly, I was resolved to sacrifice a leg or an arm to make all up again, before she had time to determine upon any new measures.
·How seasonably to this purpose have come in my Aunt's and Cousin's Letters!
·I have sent in again and again to implore her to admit me to her presence. But she will conclude a Letter she is writing to Miss Howe, before she will see me---I suppose to give an account of what has just passed.
·Curse upon her perverse tyranny! How she makes me wait for an humble audience, though she has done writing some time! A Prince begging for her upon his knees should not prevail upon me to spare her, if I can but get her to London---Oons! Jack, I believe I have bit my lip through for vexation!---But one day hers shall smart for it.
·Mr. Lovelace, beginning a new date, gives an account of his admittance, and of the conversation that followed: Which differing only in style from that the Lady gives in the next Letter, is omitted:·
He collects the Lady's expressions, which his pride cannot bear:---Such as, That he is a stranger to the decorums which she thought inseparable from
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a man of birth and education; and that he is not the accomplished man he imagines himself to be; and threatens to remember them against her.
He values himself upon his proposals and speeches, which he gives to his friend pretty much to the same purpose that the Lady does in her four last Letters.
After mentioning his proposal to her that she would borrow a servant from Miss Howe, till Hannah could come, he writes as follows:
Thou seest, Belford, that my Charmer has no notion, that Miss Howe herself is but a puppet danced upon my wires at second or third hand. To outwit, and impel, as I please, two suchgirls as these, who think they know every-thing; and, by taking advantage of the pride and ill-nature of the old ones of both families, to play them off likewise at the very time they think they are doing me spiteful displeasure; what charming revenge!---Then the sweet Creature, when I wished, that her Brother was not at the bottom of Mrs. Howe's resentment, to tell me, That she was afraid he was, or her Uncle would not have appeared against her to that Lady!---Pretty dear! how innocent!
But don't think me the cause neither of her family's malice and resentment. It is all in their hearts. I work but with their materials. They, if left to their own wicked direction, would perhaps express their revenge by fire and fagot; that is to say, by the private dagger, or by Lord Chief Justices warrants, by Law, and so forth: I only point the Lightning, and teach it where to dart, without the Thunder. In other words, I only guide the Effects: The Cause is in their malignant hearts: And, while I am doing a little mischief, I prevent a great deal.
Thus he exults on her mentioning London:
I wanted her to propose London herself. This
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made me again mention Windsor. If you would have a woman do one thing, you must always propose another, and that the very contrary. The Sex! the very Sex! as I hope to be saved!---Why, Jack, they lay a man under a necessity to deal doubly with them! And, when they find themselves outwitted, they cry out upon an honest fellow, who has been too hard for them at their own weapons.
I could hardly contain myself. My heart was at my throat.---Down, down, said I to myself, exuberant exultation! A sudden cough befriended me: I again turned to her, all as indifferencedover as a girl at the first long-expected question, who waits for two more. I heard out the rest of her speech: And when she had done, instead of saying any-thing to her of London, I advised her to send for her Mrs. Norton.
As I knew she would be afraid of lying under obligation, I could have proposed to do so much for the good woman and her son, as would have made her resolve, that I should do nothing: This, however, not merely to avoid expence. But there was no such thing as allowing of the presence of Mrs. Norton. I might as well have had her Mother or her Aunt Hervey with her. Hannah, had she been able to come, and had she actually come, I could have done well enough with. What do I keep fellows idling in the country for, but to fall in love, and even to marry those whom I would have them to marry? ·Nor, upon second thoughts, would the presence of her Norton, or of her Aunt, or even of her Mother, have saved the dear creature, had I decreed her fall.·
How unequal is a modest woman to the adventure, when she throws herself into the power of a Rake!---Punctilio will, at any time, stand for reason with such an one. She cannot break thro' a well-tested modesty. None but the impudent little rogues, who can name the Parson and the Church before you think of either,
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and undress and go to bed before you the next hour, should think of running away with a man.
I am in the right train now. Every hour, I doubt not, will give me an encreasing interest in the affections of this proud Beauty. I have just carried Unpoliteness far enough to make her afraid of me; and to shew her, that I am no whiner. Every instance of Politeness, now, will give me double credit with her. My next point will be to make her acknowlege a lambent flame, a preference of me to all other men, at least: And then my happy hour is not far off. An acknowleged Reciprocality in Love sanctifies every little freedom: And little freedoms beget greater. And if she call me ungenerous, I can call her cruel. The Sex love to be called cruel. Many a time have I complained of Cruelty, even in the act of yielding, because I knew it gratified the Fair-one's pride.
Mentioning that he had only hinted at Mr. Belford's lodgings, as an instance to confirm what he had told her, that he knew of none in London fit for her, he says,
I had a mind to alarm her with something furthest from my purpose; for (as much as she disliked my motion) I intended nothing by it: Mrs. Osgood is too pious a woman; and would have been more her friend than mine.
I had a view, moreover, to give her an high opinion of her own sagacity. I love, when I dig a pit, to have my prey tumble in with secure feet, and open eyes: Then a man can look down upon her, with an O-ho, Charmer, how came you there?
Monday, April 17.
I have just now received a fresh piece of intelligence from my agent honest Joseph Leman. Thou knowest the history of poor Miss Betterton of Nottingham.
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James Harlowe is plotting to revive the resentments of her family against me. The Harlowes took great pains, some time ago, to endeavour to get to the bottom of that story. But now the foolish devils are resolved to do something in it, if they can. My head is working to make this booby 'Squire a plotter, and a clever fellow, in order to turn his plots to my advantage, supposing his Sister shall aim to keep me at arms length when in town, and to send me from her. But I will, in proper time, let thee see Joseph's Letter, and what I shall answer to it (a) [Footnote a: 1Kb]. To know, in time, a designed mischief, is, with me, to disappoint it, and to turn it upon the contriver's head.
Joseph is plaguy squeamish again; but I know he only intends by his qualms to swell his merits with me. O Belford, Belford! what a vile corruptible rogue, whether in poor or rich, is human nature!