LETTER XIV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.THURSDAY, JUNE 15.
Let me alone, you great dog, you!--let me alone!--have I heard a lesserboy, his coward arms held over his head and face, say to a bigger, whowas pommeling him, for having run away with his apple, his orange, or hisginger-bread.
So say I to thee, on occasion of thy severity to thy poor friend, who, asthou ownest, has furnished thee (ungenerous as thou art!) with theweapons thou brandishest so fearfully against him.--And to what purpose,when the mischief is done? when, of consequence, the affair isirretrievable? and when a CLARISSA could not move me?
Well, but, after all, I must own, that there is something very singularin this lady's case: and, at times, I cannot help regretting that ever Iattempted her; since not one power either of body or soul could be movedin my favour; and since, to use the expression of the philosopher, on amuch graver occasion, there is no difference to be found between theskull of King Philip and that of another man.
But people's extravagant notions of things alter not facts, Belford: and,when all's done, Miss Clarissa Harlowe has but run the fate of a thousandothers of her sex--only that they did not set such a romantic value uponwhat they call their honour; that's all.
And yet I will allow thee this--that if a person sets a high value uponany thing, be it ever such a trifle in itself, or in the eye of others,the robbing of that person of it is not a trifle to him. Take the matterin this light, I own I have done wrong, great wrong, to this admirablecreature.
But have I not known twenty and twenty of the sex, who have seemed tocarry their notions of virtue high; yet, when brought to the test, haveabated of their severity? And how should we be convinced that any ofthem are proof till they are tried?
A thousand times have I said, that I never yet met with such a woman asthis. If I had, I hardly ever should have attempted Miss ClarissaHarlowe. Hitherto she is all angel: and was not that the point which atsetting out I proposed to try?* And was not cohabitation ever my darlingview? And am I not now, at last, in the high road to it?--It is true,that I have nothing to boast of as to her will. The very contrary. Butnow are we come to the test, whether she cannot be brought to make thebest of an irreparable evil. If she exclaim, [she has reason to exclaim,and I will sit down with patience by the hour together to hear herexclamations, till she is tired of them,] she will then descend toexpostulation perhaps: expostulation will give me hope: expostulationwill show that she hates me not. And, if she hate me not, she willforgive: and, if she now forgive, then will all be over; and she will bemine upon my own terms: and it shall then be the whole study of my futurelife to make her happy.
* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII.
So, Belford, thou seest that I have journeyed on to this stage [indeed,through infinite mazes, and as infinite remorses] with one determinedpoint in view from the first. To thy urgent supplication then, that Iwill do her grateful justice by marriage, let me answer in Matt. Prior'stwo lines on his hoped-for auditorship; as put into the mouths of his St.John and Harley;
---Let that be done, which Matt. doth say. YEA, quoth the Earl--BUT NOT TO-DAY.
Thou seest, Jack, that I make no resolutions, however, against doing her,one time or other, the wished-for justice, even were I to succeed in myprincipal view, cohabitation. And of this I do assure thee, that, if Iever marry, it must, it shall be Miss Clarissa Harlowe.--Nor is herhonour at all impaired with me, by what she has so far suffered: but thecontrary. She must only take care that, if she be at last brought toforgive me, she show me that her Lovelace is the only man on earth whomshe could have forgiven on the like occasion.
But ah, Jack! what, in the mean time, shall I do with this admirablecreature? At present--[I am loth to say it--but, at present] she isquite stupified.
I had rather, methinks, she should have retained all her active powers,though I had suffered by her nails and her teeth, than that she should besunk into such a state of absolute--insensibility (shall I call it?) asshe has been in every since Tuesday morning. Yet, as she begins a littleto revive, and now-and-then to call names, and to exclaim, I dread almostto engage with the anguish of a spirit that owes its extraordinaryagitations to a niceness that has no example either in ancient or modernstory. For, after all, what is there in her case that should stupifysuch a glowing, such a blooming charmer?--Excess of grief, excess ofterror, have made a person's hair stand on end, and even (as we haveread) changed the colour of it. But that it should so stupify, as tomake a person, at times, insensible to those imaginary wrongs, whichwould raise others from stupifaction, is very surprising!
But I will leave this subject, least it should make me too grave.
I was yesterday at Hampstead, and discharged all obligations there, withno small applause. I told them that the lady was now as happy as myself:and that is no great untruth; for I am not altogether so, when I allowmyself to think.
Mrs. Townsend, with her tars, had not been then there. I told them whatI would have them say to her, if she came.
Well, but, after all [how many after-all's have I?] I could be verygrave, were I to give way to it.--The devil take me for a fool! What'sthe matte with me, I wonder!--I must breathe a fresher air for a fewdays.
But what shall I do with this admirable creature the while?--Hang me, ifI know!--For, if I stir, the venomous spider of this habitation will wantto set upon the charming fly, whose silken wings are already so entangledin my enormous web, that she cannot move hand or foot: for so much hasgrief stupified her, that she is at present destitute of will, as shealways seemed to be of desire. I must not therefore think of leaving heryet for two days together.