LETTER XXXII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.THURSDAY NIGHT.
Confoundedly out of humour with this perverse woman!--Nor wilt thou blameme, if thou art my friend. She regards the concession she made, as aconcession extorted from her: and we are but just where we were beforeshe made it.
With great difficulty I prevailed upon her to favour me with her companyfor one half hour this evening. The necessity I was under to go down toM. Hall was the subject I wanted to talk upon.
I told her, that as she had been so good as to promise that she wouldendeavour to make herself easy till she saw the Thursday in next weekover, I hoped that she would not scruple to oblige me with her word, thatI should find her here at my return from M. Hall.
Indeed she would make no such promise. Nothing of this house wasmentioned to me, said she: you know it was not. And do you think that Iwould have given my consent to my imprisonment in it?
I was plaguily nettled, and disappointed too. If I go not down to Mr.Hall, Madam, you'll have no scruple to stay here, I suppose, tillThursday is over?
If I cannot help myself I must--but I insist upon being permitted to goout of this house, whether you leave it or not.
Well, Madam, then I will comply with your commands. And I will go outthis very evening in quest of lodgings that you shall have no objectionsto.
I will have no lodgings of your providing, Sir--I will go to Mrs.Moore's, at Hampstead.
Mrs. Moore's, Madam!--I have no objection to Mrs. Moore's--but will yougive me your promise, to admit me there to your presence?
As I do here--when I cannot help it.
Very well, Madam--Will you be so good as to let me know what you intendby your promise to make yourself easy.
To endeavour, Sir, to make myself easy--were the words----
Till you saw what next Thursday would produce?
Ask me no questions that may ensnare me. I am too sincere for thecompany I am in.
Let me ask you, Madam, What meant you, when you said, 'that, were itnot a sin, you would die before you gave me that assurance?'
She was indignantly silent.
You thought, Madam, you had given me room to hope your pardon by it?
When I think I ought to answer you with patience I will speak.
Do you think yourself in my power, Madam?
If I were not--And there she stopt----
Dearest creature, speak out--I beseech you, dearest creature, speak out----
She was silent; her charming face all in a glow.
Have you, Madam, any reliance upon my honour?
Still silent.
You hate me, Madam! You despise me more than you do the most odious ofGod's creatures!
You ought to despise me, if I did not.
You say, Madam, you are in a bad house. You have no reliance upon myhonour--you believe you cannot avoid me----
She arose. I beseech you, let me withdraw.
I snatched her hand, rising, and pressed it first to my lips, and then tomy heart, in wild disorder. She might have felt the bounding mischiefready to burst its bars--You shall go--to your own apartment, if youplease--But, by the great God of Heaven, I will accompany you thither!
She trembled--Pray, pray, Mr. Lovelace, don't terrify me so!
Be seated, Madam! I beseech you, be seated!----
I will sit down----
Do then--All my soul is in my eyes, and my heart's blood throbbing at myfingers' ends.
I will--I will--You hurt me--Pray, Mr. Lovelace, don't--don't frighten meso--And down she sat, trembling; my hand still grasping her's.
I hung over her throbbing bosom, and putting my other arm round her waist--And you say, you hate me, Madam--and you say, you despise me--and yousay, you promise me nothing----
Yes, yes, I did promise you--let me not be held down thus--you see I satdown when you bid me--Why [struggling] need you hold me down thus?--I didpromise to endeavour to be easy till Thursday was over! But you won'tlet me!--How can I be easy?--Pray, let me not be thus terrified.
And what, Madam, meant you by your promise? Did you mean any thing in myfavour?--You designed that I should, at that time, think you did. Didyou mean any thing in my favour, Madam?--Did you intend that I shouldthink you did?
Let go my hand, Sir--Take away your arm from about me, [struggling, yettrembling,]--Why do you gaze upon me so?
Answer me, Madam--Did you mean any thing in my favour by your promise?
Let me be not thus constrained to answer.
Then pausing, and gaining more spirit, Let me go, said she: I am but awoman--but a weak woman.
But my life is in my own power, though my person is not--I will not bethus constrained.
You shall not, Madam, quitting her hand, bowing; but my heart is at mymouth, and hoping farther provocation.
She arose, and was hurrying away.
I pursue you not, Madam--I will try your generosity. Stop--return--thismoment stop, return, if, Madam, you would not make me desperate.
She stopt at the door; burst into tears--O Lovelace!--How, how, have Ideserved----
Be pleased, dearest angel, to return.
She came back--but with declared reluctance; and imputing her complianceto terror.
Terror, Jack, as I have heretofore found out, though I have so littlebenefited by the discovery, must be my resort, if she make it necessary--nothing else will do with the inflexible charmer.
She seated herself over-against me; extremely discomposed--butindignation had a visible predominance in her features.
I was going towards her, with a countenance intendedly changed to loveand softness: Sweetest, dearest angel, were my words, in the tenderestaccent:--But, rising up, she insisted upon my being seated at a distancefrom her.
I obeyed, and begged her hand over the table, to my extended hand;to see, if in any thing she would oblige me. But nothing gentle, soft,or affectionate, would do. She refused me her hand!--Was she wise, Jack,to confirm to me, that nothing but terror would do?
Let me only know, Madam, if your promise to endeavour to wait withpatience the event of next Thursday meant me favour?
Do you expect any voluntary favour from one to whom you give not a freechoice?
Do you intend, Madam, to honour me with your hand, in your uncle'spresence, or do you not?
My heart and my hand shall never be separated. Why, think you, did Istand in opposition to the will of my best, my natural friends.
I know what you mean, Madam--Am I then as hateful to you as the vileSolmes?
Ask me not such a question, Mr. Lovelace.
I must be answered. Am I as hateful to you as the vile Solmes?
Why do you call Mr. Solmes vile?
Don't you think him so, Madam?
Why should I? Did Mr. Solmes ever do vilely by me?
Dearest creature! don't distract me by hateful comparisons! and perhapsby a more hateful preference.
Don't you, Sir, put questions to me that you know I will answer truly,though my answer were ever so much to enrage you.
My heart, Madam, my soul is all your's at present. But you must give mehope, that your promise, in your own construction, binds you, no newcause to the contrary, to be mine on Thursday. How else can I leave you?
Let me go to Hampstead; and trust to my favour.
May I trust to it?--Say only may I trust to it?
How will you trust to it, if you extort an answer to this question?
Say only, dearest creature, say only, may I trust to your favour, if yougo to Hampstead?
How dare you, Sir, if I must speak out, expect a promise of favour fromme?--What a mean creature must you think me, after the ungratefulbaseness to me, were I to give you such a promise?
Then standing up, Thou hast made me, O vilest of men! [her hands clasped,and a face crimsoned with indignation,] an inmate of the vilest of houses--nevertheless, while I am in it, I shall have a heart incapable of anything but abhorrence of that and of thee!
And round her looked the angel, and upon me, with fear in her sweetaspect of the consequence of her free declaration--But what a devil mustI have been, I who love bravery in a man, had I not been more struck withadmiration of her fortitude at the instant, than stimulated by revenge?
Noblest of creatures!--And do you think I can leave you, and my interestin such an excellence, precarious? No promise!--no hope!--If you make menot desperate, may lightning blast me, if I do you not all the justice'tis in my power to do you!
If you have any intention to oblige me, leave me at my own liberty, andlet me not be detained in this abominable house. To be constrained as Ihave been constrained! to be stopt by your vile agents! to be brought upby force, and be bruised in my own defence against such illegal violence!--I dare to die, Lovelace--and she who fears not death, is not to beintimidated into a meanness unworthy of her heart and principles!
Wonderful creature! But why, Madam, did you lead me to hope forsomething favourable for next Thursday?--Once more, make me not desperate--With all your magnanimity, glorious creature! [I was more than halffrantic, Belford,] you may, you may--but do not, do not make me brutallythreaten you--do not, do not make me desperate!
My aspect, I believe, threatened still more than my words. I was rising--She rose--Mr. Lovelace, be pacified--you are even more dreadful thanthe Lovelace I have long dreaded--let me retire--I ask your leave toretire--you really frighten me--yet I give you no hope--from my heart Iab----
Say not, Madam, you abhor me. You must, for your own sake, conceal yourhatred--at least not avow it. I seized her hand.
Let me retire--let me, retire, said she, in a manner out of breath.
I will only say, Madam, that I refer myself to your generosity. My heartis not to be trusted at this instant. As a mark of my submission to yourwill, you shall, if you please, withdraw--but I will not go to M. Hall--live or die my Lord M. I will not go to M. Hall--but will attend theeffect of your promise. Remember, Madam, you have promised to endeavourto make yourself easy till you see the event of next Thursday--nextThursday, remember, your uncle comes up, to see us married--that's theevent.--You think ill of your Lovelace--do not, Madam, suffer your ownmorals to be degraded by the infection, as you called it, of his example.
Away flew the charmer with this half permission--and no doubt thought thatshe had an escape--nor without reason.
I knew not for half an hour what to do with myself. Vexed at the heart,nevertheless, (now she was from me, and when I reflected upon her hatredof me, and her defiances,) that I suffered myself to be so overawed,checked, restrained----
And now I have written thus far, (have of course recollected the whole ofour conversation,) I am more and more incensed against myself.
But I will go down to these women--and perhaps suffer myself to belaughed at by them.
Devil fetch them, they pretend to know their own sex. Sally was a womanwell educated--Polly also--both have read--both have sense--of parentagenot mean--once modest both--still, they say, had been modest, but for me--not entirely indelicate now; though too little nice for my personalintimacy, loth as they both are to have me think so--the old one, too, awoman of family, though thus (from bad inclination as well as at firstfrom low circumstances) miserably sunk:--and hence they all pretend toremember what once they were; and vouch for the inclinations andhypocrisy of the whole sex, and wish for nothing so ardently, as that Iwill leave the perverse lady to their management while I am gone toBerkshire; undertaking absolutely for her humility and passiveness on myreturn; and continually boasting of the many perverse creatures whom theyhave obliged to draw in their traces.
***
I am just come from the sorceresses.
I was forced to take the mother down; for she began with her Hoh, Sir!with me; and to catechize and upbraid me, with as much insolence as if Iowed her money.
I made her fly the pit at last. Strange wishes wished we against eachother at her quitting it----What were they?--I'll tell thee----She wishedme married, and to be jealous of my wife; and my heir-apparent the childof another man. I was even with her with a vengeance. And yet thou wiltthink that could not well be.--As how?--As how, Jack!--Why, I wished forher conscience come to life! And I know, by the gripes mine gives meevery half-hour, that she would then have a cursed time of it.
Sally and Polly gave themselves high airs too. Their first favours werethrown at me, [women to boast of those favours which they were as willingto impart, first forms all the difficulty with them! as I to receive!] Iwas upbraided with ingratitude, dastardice and all my difficulties withmy angel charged upon myself, for want of following my blows; and forleaving the proud lady mistress of her own will, and nothing to reproachherself with. And all agreed, that the arts used against her on acertain occasion, had too high an operation for them or me to judge whather will would have been in the arduous trial. And then they blamed oneanother; as I cursed them all.
They concluded, that I should certainly marry, and be a lost man. AndSally, on this occasion, with an affected and malicious laugh, snapt herfingers at me, and pointing two of each hand forkedly at me, bid meremember the lines I once showed her of my favourite Jack Dryden, as shealways familiarly calls that celebrated poet:
We women to new joys unseen may move: There are no prints left in the paths of love. All goods besides by public marks are known: But those men most desire to keep, have none.
This infernal implement had the confidence further to hint, that when awife, some other man would not find half the difficulty with my angelthat I had found. Confidence indeed! But yet, I must say, if a mangives himself up to the company of these devils, they never let him resttill he either suspects or hate his wife.
But a word or two of other matters, if possible.
Methinks I long to know how causes go at M. Hall. I have another privateintimation, that the old peer is in the greatest danger.
I must go down. Yet what to do with this lady the mean while! Thesecursed women are full of cruelty and enterprise. She will never be easywith them in my absence. They will have provocation and pretencetherefore. But woe be to them, if----
Yet what will vengeance do, after an insult committed? The two nymphswill have jealous rage to goad them on. And what will withhold a jealousand already-ruined woman?
To let her go elsewhere; that cannot be done. I am still too resolved tobe honest, if she'll give me hope: if yet she'll let me be honest. ButI'll see how she'll be after the contention she will certainly havebetween her resentment and the terror she has reason for from our lastconversation. So let this subject rest till the morning. And to the oldpeer once more.
I shall have a good deal of trouble, I reckon, though no sordid man, tobe decent on the expected occasion. Then how to act (I who am nohypocrite) in the days of condolement! What farces have I to go through;and to be the principal actor in them! I'll try to think of my ownlatter end; a gray beard, and a graceless heir; in order to make meserious.
Thou, Belford, knowest a good deal of this sort of grimace; and cansthelp a gay heart to a little of the dismal. But then every feature ofthy face is cut out for it. My heart may be touched, perhaps, soonerthan thine; for, believe me or not, I have a very tender one. But then,no man looking into my face, be the occasion for grief ever so great,will believe that heart to be deeply distressed.
All is placid, easy, serene, in my countenance. Sorrow cannot sit halfan hour together upon it. Nay, I believe, that Lord M.'s recovery,should it happen, would not affect me above a quarter of an hour. Onlythe new scenery, (and the pleasure of aping an Heraclitus to the family,while I am a Democritus among my private friends,) or I want nothing thatthe old peer can leave me. Wherefore then should grief sadden anddistort such blythe, such jocund, features as mine?
But as for thine, were there murder committed in the street, and thouwert but passing by, the murderer even in sight, the pursuers wouldquit him, and lay hold of thee: and thy very looks would hang, as we
llas apprehend thee.
But one word to business, Jack. Whom dealest thou with for thy blacks?--Wert thou well used?--I shall want a plaguy parcel of them. For I intendto make every soul of the family mourn--outside, if not in.