[Page 304]
LETTER LXXX.
Mr. Lovelace, To John Belford, Esq; In answer to his Letters lvii. lxxi.
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 hers: 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; tho' 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 ours 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
[Page 305]
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 anybody, 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 further 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 chearfully 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 thy aukward 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 sayst, that thou considerest her (a) [Footnote a: 1Kb]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 effigie, wit uplifted head and hand, the
[Page 306]
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 stocken, as it is, tho' 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.
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 plaid 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
[Page 307]
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 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 furthest. 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 with-hold 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 is it to pray, when one 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.