LETTER XIV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.TUESDAY AFTERNOON, JUNE 6.
Difficulties still to be got over in procuring this plaguy license. Iever hated, and ever shall hate, these spiritual lawyers, and theircourt.
And now, Jack, if I have not secured victory, I have a retreat.
But hold--thy servant with a letter--
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A confounded long one, though not a narrative one--Once more in behalf ofthis lady?--Lie thee down, oddity! What canst thou write that can haveforce upon me at this crisis?--And have I not, as I went along, made theeto say all that was necessary for thee to say?
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Yet once more I will take thee up.
Trite, stale, poor, (sayest thou,) are some of my contrivances; that ofthe widow particularly!--I have no patience with thee. Had not thatcontrivance its effect at that time, for a procrastination? and had I notthen reason to fear, that the lady would find enough to make her dislikethis house? and was it not right (intending what I intended) to lead heron from time to time with a notion that a house of her own would be readyfor her soon, in order to induce her to continue here till it was?
Trite, stale, and poor!--Thou art a silly fellow, and no judge, when thousayest this. Had I not, like a blockhead, revealed to thee, as I wentalong, the secret purposes of my heart, but had kept all in till the eventhad explained my mysteries, I would have defied thee to have been able,any more than the lady, to have guessed at what was to befall her, tillit had actually come to pass. Nor doubt I, in this case, that, insteadof presuming to reflect upon her for credulity, as loving me to hermisfortune, and for hoping against probability, thou wouldest have beenreadier, by far, to censure her for nicety and over-scrupulousness. And,let me tell thee, that had she loved me as I wished her to love me, shecould not possibly have been so very apprehensive of my designs, nor soready to be influenced by Miss Howe's precautions, as she has alwaysbeen, although my general character made not for me with her.
But, in thy opinion, I suffer for that simplicity in my contrivances,which is their principal excellence. No machinery make I necessary. Nounnatural flights aim I at. All pure nature, taking advantage of nature,as nature tends; and so simple my devices, that when they are known,thou, even thou, imaginest thou couldest have thought of the same. Andindeed thou seemest to own, that the slight thou puttest upon them isowing to my letting thee into them before-hand--undistingushing as wellas ungrateful as thou art!
Yet, after all, I would not have thee think that I do not know my weakplaces. I have formerly told thee, that it is difficult for the ablestgeneral to say what he will do, or what he can do, when he is obliged toregulate his motions by those of a watchful enemy.* If thou givest dueweight to this consideration, thou wilt not wonder that I should makemany marches and countermarches, some of which may appear, to a slightobserver, unnecessary.
* See Vol. III. Letter XXXIX.
But let me cursorily enter into debate with thee on this subject, now Iam within sight of my journey's end.
Abundance of impertinent things thou tellest me in this letter; some ofwhich thou hadst from myself; others that I knew before.
All that thou sayest in this charming creature's praise is short of whatI have said and written on the inexhaustible subject.
Her virtue, her resistance, which are her merits, are my stimulatives.have I not told thee so twenty times over?
Devil, as these girls between them call me, what of devil am I, but in mycontrivances? I am not more a devil than others in the end I aim at; forwhen I have carried my point, it is still but one seduction. And I haveperhaps been spared the guilt of many seductions in the time.
What of uncommon would there be in this case, but for herwatchfulness!--As well as I love intrigue and stratagem, dost think thatI had not rather have gained my end with less trouble and less guilt?
The man, let me tell thee, who is as wicked as he can be, is a worse manthan I am. Let me ask any rake in England, if, resolving to carry hispoint, he would have been so long about it? or have had so muchcompunction as I have had?
Were every rake, nay, were every man, to sit down, as I do, and write allthat enters into his head, or into his heart, and to accuse himself withequal freedom and truth, what an army of miscreants should I have to keepme in countenance!
It is a maxim with some, that if they are left alone with a woman, andmake not an attempt upon her, she will think herself affronted--Are notsuch men as these worse than I am? What an opinion must they have of thewhole sex!
Let me defend the sex I so dearly love. If these elder brethren of oursthink they have general reason for their assertion, they must have keptvery bad company, or must judge of women's hearts by their own. She mustbe an abandoned woman, who will not shrink as a snail into its shell at agross and sudden attempt. A modest woman must be naturally cold,reserved, and shy. She cannot be so much and so soon affected aslibertines are apt to imagine. She must, at least, have some confidencein the honour and silence of a man, before desire can possibly put forthin her, to encourage and meet his flame. For my own part, I have beenalways decent in the company of women, till I was sure of them. Nor haveI ever offered a great offence, till I have found little ones passedover; and that they shunned me not, when they knew my character.
My divine Clarissa has puzzled me, and beat me out of my play: at onetime, I hope to overcome by intimidating her; at another, by love; by theamorous see-saw, as I have called it.* And I have only now to joinsurprise to the other two, and see what can be done by all three.
* See Vol. III. Letter XVI.
And whose property, I pray thee, shall I invade, if I pursue my schemesof love and vengeance? Have not those who have a right to her renouncedthat right? Have they not wilfully exposed her to dangers? Yet mustknow, that such a woman would be considered as lawful prize by as many ascould have the opportunity to attempt her?--And had they not thus cruellyexposed her, is she not a single woman? And need I tell thee, Jack, thatmen of our cast, the best of them [the worst stick at nothing] think it agreat grace and favour done to the married men, if they leave them theirwives to themselves; and compound for their sisters, daughters, wardsand nieces? Shocking as these principles must be to a reflecting mind,yet such thou knowest are the principles of thousands (who would not actso generously as I have acted by almost all of the sex, over whom I haveobtained a power); and as often carried into practice, as theiropportunities or courage will permit.--Such therefore have no right toblame me.
Thou repeatedly pleadest her sufferings from her family. But I have toooften answered this plea, to need to say any more now, than that she hasnot suffered for my sake. For has she not been made the victim of themalice of her rapacious brother and envious sister, who only waited foran occasion to ruin her with her other relations; and took this as thefirst to drive her out of the house; and, as it happened, into my arms?--Thou knowest how much against her inclination.
As for her own sins, how many has the dear creature to answer for to loveand to me!--Twenty times, and twenty times twenty, has she not told me,that she refused not the odious Solmes in favour to me? And as often hasshe not offered to renounce me for the single life, if the implacableswould have received her on that condition?--Of what repetitions does thyweak pity make me guilty?
To look a litter farther back: Canst thou forget what my sufferings werefrom this haughty beauty in the whole time of my attendance upon herproud motions, in the purlieus of Harlowe-place, and at the little WhiteHart, at Neale, as we called it?--Did I not threaten vengeance upon herthen (and had I not reason?) for disappointing me of a promisedinterview?
O Jack! what a night had I in the bleak coppice adjoining to her father'spaddock! My linen and wig frozen; my limbs absolutely numbed; my fingersonly sensible of so much warmth as enabled me to hold a pen; and thatobtained by rubbing the skin off, and by beating with my hands myshivering sides! Kneeling on the hoar moss on one knee, writing on theother, if the sti
ff scrawl could be called writing! My feet, by the timeI had done, seeming to have taken root, and actually unable to support mefor some minutes!--Love and rage then kept my heart in motion, [and onlylove and rage could do it,] or how much more than I did suffer must Ihave suffered!
I told thee, at my melancholy return, what were the contents of theletter I wrote.* And I showed thee afterwards her tyrannical answer toit.** Thou, then, Jack, lovedst thy friend; and pitiedst thy poorsuffering Lovelace. Even the affronted God of Love approved then of mythreatened vengeance against the fair promiser; though of the night of mysufferings, he is become an advocate for her.
* See Vol. II. Letter XX.** Ibid.
Nay, was it not he himself that brought to me my adorable Nemesis; andboth together put me upon this very vow, 'That I would never rest till Ihad drawn in this goddess-daughter of the Harlowes to cohabit with me;and that in the face of all their proud family?'
Nor canst thou forget this vow. At this instant I have thee before me,as then thou sorrowfully lookedst. Thy strong features glowing withcompassion for me; thy lips twisted; thy forehead furrowed; thy wholeface drawn out from the stupid round into the ghastly oval; every musclecontributing its power to complete the aspect grievous; and not one wordcouldst thou utter, but Amen! to my vow.
And what of distinguishing love, or favour, or confidence, have I hadfrom her since, to make me forego this vow!
I renewed it not, indeed, afterwards; and actually, for a long season,was willing to forget it; till repetitions of the same faults revived theremembrance of the former. And now adding to those the contents of someof Miss Howe's virulent letters, so lately come at, what canst thou sayfor the rebel, consistent with thy loyalty to thy friend?
Every man to his genius and constitution. Hannibal was called The fatherof warlike stratagems. Had Hannibal been a private man, and turned hisplotting head against the other sex; or had I been a general, and, turnedmine against such of my fellow-creatures of my own, as I thought myselfentitled to consider as my enemies, because they were born and lived in adifferent climate; Hannibal would have done less mischief; Lovelacemore.--That would have been the difference.
Not a sovereign on earth, if he be not a good man, and if he be of awarlike temper, but must do a thousand times more mischief than I. Andwhy? Because he has it in his power to do more.
An honest man, perhaps thou'lt say, will not wish to have it in his powerto do hurt. He ought not, let me tell him: for, if he have it, athousand to one but it makes him both wanton and wicked.
In what, then, am I so singularly vile?
In my contrivances thou wilt say, (for thou art my echo,) if not in myproposed end of them.
How difficult does every man find it, as well as I, to forego apredominant passion! I have three passions that sway me by turns; allimperial ones--love, revenge, ambition or a desire of conquest.
As to this particular contrivance of Tomlinson and the uncle, whichperhaps thou wilt think a black one; that had been spared, had not theseinnocent ladies put me upon finding a husband for their Mrs. Townsend:that device, therefore, is but a preventive one. Thinkest thou that Icould bear to be outwitted? And may not this very contrivance save aworld of mischief? for dost thou think I would have tamely given up thelady to Townsend's tars?
What meanest thou, except to overthrow thy own plea, when thou sayest,that men of our cast know no other bound to their wickedness, but want ofpower; yet knowest this lady to be in mine?
Enough, sayest thou, have I tried this paragon of virtue. Not so; for Ihave not tried her at all--all I have been doing is but preparation to atrial.
But thou art concerned for the means that I may have recourse to in thetrial, and for my veracity.
Silly fellow!--Did ever any man, thinkest thou, deceive a woman, but atthe expense of his veracity; how, otherwise, can he be said to deceive?
As to the means, thou dost not imagine that I expect a direct consent.My main hope is but in a yielding reluctance; without which I will besworn, whatever rapes have been attempted, none ever were committed, oneperson to one person. And good Queen Bess of England, had she beenliving, and appealed to, would have declared herself of my mind.
It would not be amiss for the sex to know what our opinions are upon thissubject. I love to warn them. I wish no man to succeed with them butmyself. I told thee once, that though a rake, I am not a rake's friend.*
* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII.
Thou sayest, that I ever hated wedlock. And true thou sayest. And yetas true, when thou tellest me, that I would rather marry than lose thislady. And will she detest me for ever, thinkest thou, if I try her, andsucceed not?--Take care--take care, Jack!--Seest thou not that thouwarnest me that I do not try without resolving to conquer?
I must add, that I have for some time been convinced that I have donewrong to scribble to thee so freely as I have done (and the more so, if Imake the lady legally mine); for has not every letter I have written tothee been a bill of indictment against myself? I may partly curse myvanity for it; and I think I will refrain for the future; for thou artreally very impertinent.
A good man, I own, might urge many of the things thou urgest; but, by mysoul, they come very awkwardly from thee. And thou must be sensible,that I can answer every tittle of what you writest, upon the foot of themaxims we have long held and pursued.--By the specimen above, thou wiltsee that I can.
And pr'ythee tell me, Jack, what but this that follows would have beenthe epitome of mine and my beloved's story, after ten years'cohabitation, had I never written to thee upon the subject, and had I notbeen my own accuser?
'Robert Lovelace, a notorious woman-eater, makes his addresses in anhonourable way to Miss Clarissa Harlowe; a young lady of the highestmerit--fortunes on both sides out of the question.
'After encouragement given, he is insulted by her violent brother; whothinks it his interest to discountenance the match; and who at lastchallenging him, is obliged to take his worthless life at his hands.
'The family, as much enraged, as if he had taken the life he gave, insulthim personally, and find out an odious lover for the young lady.
'To avoid a forced marriage, she is prevailed upon to take a step whichthrows her into Mr. Lovelace's protection.
'Yet, disclaiming any passion for him, she repeatedly offers to renouncehim for ever, if, on that condition, her relations will receive her, andfree her from the address of the man she hates.
'Mr. Lovelace, a man of strong passions, and, as some say, of greatpride, thinks himself under very little obligation to her on thisaccount; and not being naturally fond of marriage, and having so muchreason to hate her relations, endeavours to prevail upon her to live withhim what he calls the life of honour; and at last, by stratagem, art, andcontrivance, prevails.
'He resolves never to marry any other woman: takes a pride to have hercalled by his name: a church-rite all the difference between them: treatsher with deserved tenderness. Nobody questions their marriage but thoseproud relations of her's, whom he wishes to question it. Every year acharming boy. Fortunes to support the increasing family with splendor.A tender father. Always a warm friend; a generous landlord; and apunctual paymaster. Now-and-then however, perhaps, indulging with a newobject, in order to bring him back with greater delight to his charmingClarissa--his only fault, love of the sex--which, nevertheless, the womensay, will cure itself--defensible thus far, that he breaks no contractsby his rovings.'--
And what is there so very greatly amiss, AS THE WORLD GOES, in all this?
Let me aver, that there are thousands and ten thousands, who have worsestories to tell than this would appear to be, had I not interested theein the progress to my great end. And besides, thou knowest that thecharacter I gave myself to Joseph Leman, as to my treatment of mymistress, is pretty near the truth.*
* See Vol. III. Letter XLVIII.
Were I to be as much in earnest in my defence, as thou art warm in myarraignment, I could convince thee, by other argumen
ts, observations, andcomparisons, [Is not all human good and evil comparative?] that thoughfrom my ingenuous temper (writing only to thee, who art master of everysecret of my heart) I am so ready to accuse myself in my narrations, yetI have something to say for myself to myself, as I go along; though noone else, perhaps, that was not a rake, would allow any weight to it.--And this caution might I give to thousands, who would stoop for a stoneto throw at me: 'See that your own predominant passions, whatever theybe, hurry you not into as much wickedness as mine do me. See, if yehappen to be better than I in some things, that ye are not worse inothers; and in points too, that may be of more extensive bad consequence,than that of seducing a girl, (and taking care of her afterwards,) who,from her cradle, is armed with cautions against the delusions of men.'And yet I am not so partial to my own follies as to think lightly of thisfault, when I allow myself to think.
Another grave thing I will add, now my hand is in: 'So dearly do I lovethe sex, that had I found that a character for virtue had been generallynecessary to recommend me to them, I should have had a much greaterregard to my morals, as to the sex, than I have had.'
To sum all up--I am sufficiently apprized, that men of worthy and honesthearts, who never allowed themselves in premeditated evil, and who takeinto the account the excellencies of this fine creature, will and mustnot only condemn, but abhor me, were they to know as much of me as thoudost. But, methinks, I would be glad to escape the censure of those men,and of those women too, who have never known what capital trials andtemptations are; of those who have no genius for enterprise; of those whowant rather courage than will; and most particularly of those who haveonly kept their secret better than I have kept, or wish to keep, mine.Were those exceptions to take place, perhaps, Jack, I should have ten toacquit to one that should condemn me. Have I not often said, that humannature is a rogue?
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I threatened above to refrain writing to thee. But take it not to heart,Jack--I must write on, and cannot help it.