LETTER LX
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. MONDAY, APRIL 24.
Fate is weaving a whimsical web for thy friend; and I see not but Ishall be inevitably manacled.
Here have I been at work, dig, dig, dig, like a cunning miner, at onetime, and spreading my snares, like an artful fowler, at another, andexulting in my contrivances to get this inimitable creature, absolutelyinto my power. Every thing made for me. Her brother and uncles were butmy pioneers: her father stormed as I directed him to storm: Mrs. Howewas acted by the springs I set at work; her daughter was moving for me,yet imagined herself plumb against me: and the dear creature herselfhad already run her stubborn neck into my gin, and knew not that she wascaught, for I had not drawn my springs close about her--And just asall this was completed, wouldst thou believe, that I should be my ownenemy, and her friend? That I should be so totally diverted from all myfavourite purposes, as to propose to marry her before I went to town, inorder to put it out of my own power to resume them.
When thou knowest this, wilt thou not think that my black angel plays mebooty, and has taken it into his head to urge me on to the indissolubletie, that he might be more sure of me (from the complex transgressionsto which he will certainly stimulate me, when wedded) than perhapshe thought he could be from the simple sins, in which I have so longallowed myself, that they seem to have the plea of habit?
Thou wilt be still the more surprised, when I tell thee, that thereseems to be a coalition going forward between the black angels and thewhite ones; for here has her's induced her, in one hour, and by oneretrograde accident, to acknowledge what the charming creature neverbefore acknowledged, a preferable favour for me. She even avows anintention to be mine.--Mine! without reformation-conditions!--Shepermits me to talk of love to her!--of the irrevocable ceremony!--Yet,another extraordinary! postpones that ceremony; chooses to set out forLondon; and even to go to the widow's in town.
Well, but how comes all this about? methinks thou askest.--Thou,Lovelace, dealest in wonders, yet aimest not at the marvellous!--How didall this come about?
I will tell thee--I was in danger of losing my charmer for ever! She wassoaring upward to her native skies! She was got above earth, by meanstoo, of the earth-born! And something extraordinary was to be done tokeep her with us sublunaries. And what so effectually as the soothingvoice of Love, and the attracting offer of matrimony from a mannot hated, can fix the attention of the maiden heart, aching withuncertainty, and before impatient of the questionable question?
This, in short, was the case: while she was refusing all manner ofobligation to me, keeping me at haughty distance, in hopes that hercousin Morden's arrival would soon fix her in a full and absoluteindependence of me--disgusted, likewise, at her adorer, for holdinghimself the reins of his own passions, instead of giving them up to hercontroul--she writes a letter, urging an answer to a letter before sent,for her apparel, her jewels, and some gold, which she had left behindher; all which was to save her pride from obligation, and to promote theindependence her heart was set upon. And what followed but a shockinganswer, made still more shocking by the communication of a father'scurse, upon a daughter deserving only blessings?--A curse upon thecurser's heart, and a double one upon the transmitter's, the spitefulthe envious Arabella!
Absent when it came--on my return I found her recovering from fits,again to fall into stronger fits; and nobody expecting her life; half adozen messengers dispatched to find me out. Nor wonder at her being soaffected; she, whose filial piety gave her dreadful faith in a father'scurses; and the curse of this gloomy tyrant extending (to use her ownwords, when she could speak) to both worlds--O that it had turned, inthe moment of its utterance, to a mortal quinsy, and, sticking in hisgullet, had choked the old execrator, as a warning to all such unnaturalfathers!
What a miscreant had I been, not to have endeavoured to bring her back,by all the endearments, by all the vows, by all the offers, that I couldmake her!
I did bring her back. More than a father to her: for I have given her alife her unnatural father had well-nigh taken away: Shall I not cherishthe fruits of my own benefaction? I was earnest in my vows to marry,and my ardour to urge the present time was a real ardour. But extremedejection, with a mingled delicacy, that in her dying moments I doubtnot she will preserve, have caused her to refuse me the time, though notthe solemnity; for she has told me, that now she must be wholly in myprotection [being destitute of every other!] More indebted, still, thyfriend, as thou seest, to her cruel relations, than to herself, for herfavour!
She has written to Miss Howe an account of their barbarity! but has notacquainted her how very ill she was.
Low, very low, she remains; yet, dreading her stupid brother'senterprise, she wants to be in London, where, but for this accident, and(wouldst thou have believed it?) for my persuasions, seeing her so veryill, she would have been this night; and we shall actually set out onWednesday morning, if she be not worse.
And now for a few words with thee, on the heavy preachment of Saturdaylast.
Thou art apprehensive, that the lady is now truly in danger; and it is amiracle, thou tellest me, if she withstand such an attempter!--'Knowingwhat we know of the sex, thou sayest, thou shouldst dread, wert thoume, to make further trial, lest thou shouldst succeed.' And, in anotherplace, tellest me, 'That thou pleadest not for the state for any favourthou hast for it.'
What an advocate art thou for matrimony--!
Thou wert ever an unhappy fellow at argument. Does the trite stuff withwhich the rest of thy letter abounds, in favour of wedlock, strike withthe force that this which I have transcribed does against it?
Thou takest great pains to convince me, and that from the distressesthe lady is reduced to (chiefly by her friend's persecutions andimplacableness, I hope thou wilt own, and not from me, as yet) that theproposed trial will not be a fair trial. But let me ask thee, Is notcalamity the test of virtue? And wouldst thou not have me value thischarming creature upon proof of her merits?--Do I not intend to rewardher by marriage, if she stand that proof?
But why repeat I what I have said before?--Turn back, thou egregiousarguer, turn back to my long letter of the 13th,* and thou wilt therefind every syllable of what thou hast written either answered orinvalidated.
* See Letter XVIII. of this volume.
But I am not angry with thee, Jack. I love opposition. As gold is triedby fire, and virtue by temptation, so is sterling wit by opposition.Have I not, before thou settest out as an advocate for my fair-one,often brought thee in, as making objections to my proceedings, for noother reason than to exalt myself by proving thee a man of straw? AsHomer raises up many of his champions, and gives them terrible names,only to have them knocked on the head by his heroes.
However, take to thee this one piece of advice--Evermore be sure ofbeing in the right, when thou presumest to sit down to correct thymaster.
And another, if thou wilt--Never offer to invalidate the force whicha virtuous education ought to have in the sex, by endeavouring to findexcuses for their frailty from the frailty of ours. For, are we notdevils to each other?--They tempt us--we tempt them. Because we mencannot resist temptation, is that a reason that women ought not,when the whole of their education is caution and warning against ourattempts? Do not their grandmothers give them one easy rule--Men are toask--Women are to deny?
Well, but to return to my principal subject; let me observe, that, be myfuture resolutions what they will, as to this lady, the contents of theviolent letter she has received have set me at least a month forwardwith her. I can now, as I hinted, talk of love and marriage, withoutcontroul or restriction; her injunctions no more my terror.
In this sweetly familiar way shall we set out together for London.Mrs. Sorlings's eldest daughter, at my motion, is to attend her in thechaise, while I ride by way of escort: for she is extremely apprehensiveof the Singleton plot; and has engaged me to be all patience, if anything should happen on the road. But nothing I am sure will happen:for, by a letter rec
eived just now from Joseph, I understand, thatJames Harlowe has already laid aside his stupid project: and this by theearnest desire of all those of his friends to whom he had communicatedit; who were afraid of the consequences that might attend it. But it isnot over with me, however; although I am not determined at present as tothe uses I may make of it.
My beloved tells me, she shall have her clothes sent her. She hopes alsoher jewels, and some gold, which she left behind her: but Joseph says,clothes only will be sent. I will not, however, tell her that: on thecontrary, I say, there is no doubt but they will send all she wrotefor. The greater her disappointment from them, the greater must be herdependence on me.
But, after all, I hope I shall be enabled to be honest to a merit sotranscendent. The devil take thee, though, for thy opinion, given somal-a-propos, that she may be overcome.
If thou designest to be honest, methinkst thou sayest, Why should notSingleton's plot be over with thee, as it is with her brother?
Because (if I must answer thee) where people are so modestly doubtful ofwhat they are able to do, it is good to leave a loop-hole. And, let meadd, that when a man's heart is set upon a point, and any thing occursto beat him off, he will find it very difficult, when the suspendingreason ceases, to forbear resuming it.