I was not displeased to see him in his riding-dress.
He seemed desirous to know how I liked the gentlewomen below. I toldhim, that although I did not think them very exceptionable; yet as Iwanted not, in my present situation, new acquaintance, I should not befond of cultivating theirs.
He urged me still farther on this head.
I could not say, I told him, that I greatly liked either of the younggentlewomen, any more than their aunt: and that, were my situation everso happy, they had much too gay a turn for me.
He did not wonder, he said, to hear me say so. He knew not any of thesex, who had been accustomed to show themselves at the town diversionsand amusements, that would appear tolerable to me. Silences and blushes,Madam, are now no graces with our fine ladies in town. Hardened byfrequent public appearances, they would be as much ashamed to be foundguilty of these weaknesses, as men.
Do you defend these two gentlewomen, Sir, by reflections upon half thesex? But you must second me, Mr. Lovelace, (and yet I am not fond ofbeing thought particular,) in my desire of breakfasting and supping (whenI do sup) by myself.
If I would have it so, to be sure it should be so. The people of thehouse were not of consequence enough to be apologized to, in any pointwhere my pleasure was concerned. And if I should dislike them still moreon further knowledge of them, he hoped I would think of some otherlodgings.
He expressed a good deal of regret at leaving me, declaring, that it wasabsolutely in obedience to my commands: but that he could not haveconsented to go, while my brother's schemes were on foot, if I had notdone him the credit of my countenance in the report he had made that wewere married; which, he said, had bound all the family to his interest,so that he could leave me with the greater security and satisfaction.
He hoped, he said, that on his return I would name his happy day; and therather, as I might be convinced, by my brother's projects, that noreconciliation was to be expected.
I told him, that perhaps I might write one letter to my uncle Harlowe.He once loved me. I should be easier when I had made one directapplication. I might possibly propose such terms, in relation to mygrandfather's estate, as might procure me their attention; and I hoped hewould be long enough absent to give me time to write to him, and receivean answer from him.
That, he must beg my pardon, he could not promise. He would informhimself of Singleton's and my brother's motions; and if on his return hefound no reason for apprehension, he would go directly for Berks, andendeavour to bring up with him his cousin Charlotte, who, he hoped, wouldinduce me to give him an earlier day than at present I seemed to thinkof.--I seemed to think of, my dear, very acquiescent, as I shouldimagine!
I told him, that I should take that young lady's company for a greatfavour.
I was the more pleased with this motion, as it came from himself, andwith no ill grace.
He earnestly pressed me to accept of a bank note: but I declined it. Andthen he offered me his servant William for my attendant in his absence;who, he said, might be dispatched to him, if any thing extraordinary fellout. I consented to that.
He took his leave of me in the most respectful manner, only kissing myhand. He left the bank note, unobserved by me, upon the table. You maybe sure, I shall give it him back at his return.
I am in a much better humour with him than I was.
Where doubts of any person are removed, a mind not ungenerous is willing,by way of amends for having conceived those doubts, to construe everything that happens, capable of a good instruction, in that person'sfavour. Particularly, I cannot but be pleased to observe, that althoughhe speaks of the ladies of his family with the freedom of relationship,yet it is always of tenderness. And from a man's kindness to hisrelations of the sex, a woman has some reason to expect his goodbehaviour to herself, when married, if she be willing to deserve it fromhim.
And thus, my dear, am I brought to sit down satisfied with this man,where I find room to infer that he is not by nature a savage. But howcould a creature who (treating herself unpolitely) gave a man anopportunity to run away with her, expect to be treated by that man with avery high degree of politeness?
But why, now, when fairer prospects seem to open, why these melancholyreflections? will my beloved friend ask of her Clarissa?
Why? Can you ask why, my dearest Miss Howe, of a creature, who, in theworld's eye, had enrolled her name among the giddy and inconsiderate; wholabours under a parent's curse, and the cruel uncertainties, which mustarise from reflecting, that, equally against duty and principle, she hasthrown herself into the power of a man, and that man an immoral one?--Must not the sense she has of her inconsideration darken her most hopefulprospects? Must it not even rise strongest upon a thoughtful mind, whenher hopes are the fairest? Even her pleasures, were the man to provebetter than she expects, coming to her with an abatement, like that whichpersons who are in possession of ill-gotten wealth must then mostpoignantly experience (if they have reflecting and unseared minds) when,all their wishes answered, (if answered,) they sit down in hopes to enjoywhat they have unjustly obtained, and find their own reflections theirgreatest torment.
May you, my dear friend, be always happy in your reflections, prays
Your ever affectionateCL. HARLOWE.
***
[Mr. Lovelace, in his next letter, triumphs on his having carried his two great points of making the Lady yield to pass for his wife to the people of the house, and to his taking up his lodging in it, though but for one night. He is now, he says, in a fair way, and doubts not but that he shall soon prevail, if not by persuasion, by surprise. Yet he pretends to have some little remorse, and censures himself as to acting the part of the grand tempter. But having succeeded thus far, he cannot, he says, forbear trying, according to the resolution he had before made, whether he cannot go farther.
He gives the particulars of their debates on the above-mentioned subjects, to the same effect as in the Lady's last letters.
It will by this time be seen that his whole merit, with regard to the Lady, lies in doing justice to her excellencies both of mind and person, though to his own condemnation. Thus he begins his succeeding letter:]
And now, Belford, will I give thee an account of our first breakfast-conversation.
All sweetly serene and easy was the lovely brow and charming aspect of mygoddess, on her descending among us; commanding reverence from every eye,a courtesy from every knee, and silence, awful silence, from everyquivering lip: while she, armed with conscious worthiness andsuperiority, looked and behaved as an empress would look and behave amongher vassals; yet with a freedom from pride and haughtiness, as if born todignity, and to a behaviour habitually gracious.
[He takes notice of the jealousy, pride, and vanity of Sally Martin and Polly Horton, on his respectful behaviour to the Lady: creatures who, brought up too high for their fortunes, and to a taste of pleasure, and the public diversions, had fallen an easy prey to his seducing arts (as will be seen in the conclusion of this work:) and who, as he observed, 'had not yet got over that distinction in their love, which makes a woman prefer one man to another.']
How difficult is it, says he, to make a woman subscribe to a preferenceagainst herself, though ever so visible; especially where love isconcerned! This violent, this partial little devil, Sally, has theinsolence to compare herself with my angel--yet owns her to be an angel.I charge you, Mr. Lovelace, say she, show none of your extravagant actsof kindness before me to this sullen, this gloomy beauty--I cannot bearit. Then was I reminded of her first sacrifice.
What a rout do these women make about nothing at all! Were it not forwhat the learned Bishop, in his Letter from Italy, calls theentanglements of amour, and I the delicacies of intrigue, what is there,Belford, in all they can do for us?
How do these creatures endeavour to stimulate me! A fallen woman is aworse devil than ever a profligate man. The former is incapable ofremorse: that am not I--nor ever shall they prevail upon me, tho
ugh aidedby all the powers of darkness, to treat this admirable creature withindignity--so far, I mean, as indignity can be separated from the trialswhich will prove her to be either woman or angel.
Yet with them I am a craven. I might have had her before now, if Iwould. If I would treat her as flesh and blood, I should find her such.They thought I knew, if any man living did, that if a man made a goddessof a woman, she would assume the goddess; that if power were given toher, she would exert that power to the giver, if to nobody else. AndD----r's wife is thrown into my dish, who, thou knowest, kept herceremonious husband at haughty distance, and whined in private to herinsulting footman. O how I cursed the blasphemous wretches! They willmake me, as I tell them, hate their house, and remove from it. And by mysoul, Jack, I am ready at times to think that I should not have broughther hither, were it but on Sally's account. And yet, without knowingeither Sally's heart, or Polly's, the dear creature resolves againsthaving any conversation with them but such as she can avoid. I am notsorry for this, thou mayest think; since jealousy in a woman is not to beconcealed from woman. And Sally has no command of herself.
What dost think!--Here this little devil Sally, not being able, as shetold me, to support life under my displeasure, was going into a fit: butwhen I saw her preparing for it, I went out of the room; and so shethought it would not be worth her while to show away.
[In this manner he mentions what his meaning was in making the Lady the compliment of his absence:]
As to leaving her: if I go but for one night, I have fulfilled mypromise: and if she think not, I can mutter and grumble, and yield again,and make a merit of it; and then, unable to live out of her presence,soon return. Nor are women ever angry at bottom for being disobeyedthrough excess of love. They like an uncontroulable passion. They liketo have every favour ravished from them, and to be eaten and drunk quiteup by a voracious lover. Don't I know the sex?--Not so, indeed, as yet,my Clarissa: but, however, with her my frequent egresses will make melook new to her, and create little busy scenes between us. At the least,I may surely, without exception, salute her at parting, and at return;and will not those occasional freedoms (which civility will warrant) bydegrees familiarize my charmer to them?
But here, Jack, what shall I do with my uncle and aunts, and all myloving cousins? For I understand that they are more in haste to have memarried than I am myself.