LETTER I
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.FRIDAY EVENING.
Just returned from an airing with my charmer, complied with after greatimportunity. She was attended by the two nymphs. They both topt theirparts; kept their eyes within bounds; made moral reflections now-and-then. O Jack! what devils are women, when all tests are got over, and wehave completely ruined them!
The coach carried us to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill; back toHampstead to the Upper-Flask: there, in compliment to the nymphs, mybeloved consented to alight, and take a little repast. Then home earlyby Kentish-town.
Delightfully easy she, and so respectful and obliging I, all the way, andas we walked out upon the heath, to view the variegated prospects whichthat agreeable elevation affords, that she promised to take now-and-thena little excursion with me. I think, Miss Howe, I think, said I tomyself, every now-and-then as we walked, that thy wicked devices aresuperceded.
But let me give thee a few particulars of our conversation in thecircumrotation we took, while in the coach--She had received a letterfrom Miss Howe yesterday, I presumed?
She made no answer. How happy should I think myself to be admitted intotheir correspondence? I would joyfully make an exchange ofcommunications.
So, though I hoped not to succeed by her consent, [and little did shethink I had so happily in part succeeded without it,] I thought it notamiss to urge for it, for several reasons: among others, that I mightaccount to her for my constant employment at my pen; in order to take offher jealousy, that she was the subject of thy correspondence and mine:and that I might justify my secrecy and uncommunicativeness by her own.
I proceeded therefore--That I loved familiar-letter-writing, as I hadmore than once told her, above all the species of writing: it was writingfrom the heart, (without the fetters prescribed by method or study,) asthe very word cor-respondence implied. Not the heart only; the soul wasin it. Nothing of body, when friend writes to friend; the mind impellingsovereignly the vassal-fingers. It was, in short, friendship recorded;friendship given under hand and seal; demonstrating that the parties wereunder no apprehension of changing from time or accident, when they soliberally gave testimonies, which would always be ready, on failure orinfidelity, to be turned against them.--For my own part, it was theprincipal diversion I had in her absence; but for this innocentamusement, the distance she so frequently kept me at would have beenintolerable.
Sally knew my drift; and said, She had had the honour to see two or threeof my letters, and of Mr. Belford's; and she thought them the mostentertaining that she had ever read.
My friend Belford, I said, had a happy talent in the letter-writing way;and upon all subjects.
I expected my beloved would have been inquisitive after our subject: but(lying perdue, as I saw) not a word said she. So I touched upon thisarticle myself.
Our topics were various and diffuse: sometimes upon literary articles[she was very attentive upon this]; sometimes upon the publicentertainments; sometimes amusing each other with the fruits of thedifferent correspondencies we held with persons abroad, with whom wehad contracted friendships; sometimes upon the foibles and perfectionsof our particular friends; sometimes upon our own present and futurehopes; sometimes aiming at humour and raillery upon each other.--It mightindeed appear to savour of vanity, to suppose my letters would entertaina lady of her delicacy and judgment: but yet I could not but say, thatperhaps she would be far from thinking so hardly of me as sometimes shehad seemed to do, if she were to see the letters which generally passedbetween Mr. Belford and me [I hope, Jack, thou hast more manners, than togive me the lie, though but in thy heart].
She then spoke: after declining my compliment in such a manner, as only aperson can do, who deserved it, she said, For her part, she had alwaysthought me a man of sense [a man of sense, Jack! What a niggardlypraise!],--and should therefore hope, that, when I wrote, it exceededeven my speech: for that it was impossible, be the letters written in aseasy and familiar a style as they would, but that they must have thatadvantage from sitting down to write them which prompt speech could notalways have. She should think it very strange therefore, if my letterswere barren of sentiment; and as strange, if I gave myself liberties uponpremeditation, which could have no excuse at all, but from athoughtlessness, which itself wanted excuse.--But if Mr. Belford'sletters and mine were upon subjects so general, and some of them equally(she presumed) instructive and entertaining, she could not but say, thatshe should be glad to see any of them; and particularly those which MissMartin had seen and praised.
This was put close.
I looked at her, to see if I could discover any tincture of jealousy inthis hint; that Miss Martin had seen what I had not shown to her. Butshe did not look it: so I only said, I should be very proud to show hernot only those, but all that passed between Mr. Belford and me; but Imust remind her, that she knew the condition.
No, indeed! with a sweet lip pouted out, as saucy as pretty; implying alovely scorn, that yet can only be lovely in youth so blooming, andbeauty so divinely distinguished.
How I long to see such a motion again! Her mouth only can give it.
But I am mad with love--yet eternal will be the distance, at the rate Igo on: now fire, now ice, my soul is continually upon the hiss, as I maysay. In vain, however, is the trial to quench--what, after all, isunquenchable.
Pr'ythee, Belford, forgive my nonsense, and my Vulcan-like metaphors--DidI not tell thee, not that I am sick of love, but that I am mad with it?Why brought I such an angel into such a house? into such company?--Andwhy do I not stop my ears to the sirens, who, knowing my aversion towedlock, are perpetually touching that string?
I was not willing to be answered so easily: I was sure, that what passedbetween two such young ladies (friends so dear) might be seen by everybody: I had more reason than any body to wish to see the letters thatpassed between her and Miss Howe; because I was sure they must be full ofadmirable instruction, and one of the dear correspondents had deigned towish my entire reformation.
She looked at me as if she would look me through: I thought I felt eye-beam, after eye-beam, penetrate my shivering reins.--But she was silent.Nor needed her eyes the assistance of speech.
Nevertheless, a little recovering myself, I hoped that nothing unhappyhad befallen either Miss Howe or her mother. The letter of yesterdaysent by a particular hand: she opening it with great emotion--seeming tohave expected it sooner--were the reasons for my apprehensions.
We were then at Muswell-hill: a pretty country within the eye, to Polly,was the remark, instead of replying to me.
But I was not so to be answered--I should expect some charming subjectsand characters from two such pens: I hoped every thing went on wellbetween Mr. Hickman and Miss Howe. Her mother's heart, I said, was setupon that match: Mr. Hickman was not without his merits: he was what theladies called a SOBER man: but I must needs say, that I thought Miss Howedeserved a husband of a very different cast!
This, I supposed, would have engaged her into a subject from which Icould have wiredrawn something:--for Hickman is one of her favourites--why, I can't divine, except for the sake of opposition of character tothat of thy honest friend.
But she cut me short by a look of disapprobation, and another cool remarkupon a distant view; and, How far off, Miss Horton, do you think thatclump of trees may be? pointing out of the coach.--So I had done.
Here endeth all I have to write concerning our conversation on this ouragreeable airing.
We have both been writing ever since we came home. I am to be favouredwith her company for an hour, before she retires to rest.
All that obsequious love can suggest, in order to engage her tenderestsentiments for me against tomorrow's sickness, will I aim at when wemeet. But at parting will complain of a disorder in my stomach.
***
We have met. All was love and unexceptionable respect on my part. Easeand complaisance on her's. She was concerned for my disorder. Sosudden!--Just a
s we parted! But it was nothing. I should be quite wellby the morning.
Faith, Jack, I think I am sick already. Is it possible for such a giddyfellow as me to persuade myself to be ill! I am a better mimic at thisrate than I wish to be. But every nerve and fibre of me is always readyto contribute its aid, whether by health or by ailment, to carry aresolved-on roguery into execution.
Dorcas has transcribed for me the whole letter of Miss Howe, datedSunday, May 14,* of which before I had only extracts. She found no otherletter added to that parcel: but this, and that which I copied myself incharacter last Sunday whilst she was at church, relating to the smugglingscheme,** are enough for me.
* See Vol. IV. Letter XXIX.** Ibid. Letter XLII.
***
Dorcas tells me, that her lady has been removing her papers from themahogany chest into a wainscot box, which held her linen, and which sheput into her dark closet. We have no key of that at present. No doubtbut all her letters, previous to those I have come at, are in that box.Dorcas is uneasy upon it: yet hopes that her lady does not suspect her;for she is sure that she laid in every thing as she found it.