LETTER XLI
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.TUESDAY, SEPT. 26.
Fate, I believe, in my conscience, spins threads for tragedies, onpurpose for thee to weave with.--Thy Watford uncle, poor Belton, thefair inimitable, [exalted creature! and is she to be found in such alist!] the accursed woman, and Tomlinson, seemed to have been all doomedto give thee a theme for the dismal and the horrible;--and, by my soul,that thou dost work it going, as Lord M. would phrase it.
That's the horrid thing, a man cannot begin to think, but causes forthought crowd in upon him; the gloomy takes place, and mirth and gaietyabandon his heard for ever!
Poor M'Donald!--I am really sorry for the fellow.--He was an useful,faithful, solemn varlet, who could act incomparably any part given him,and knew not what a blush was.--He really took honest pains for me in thelast affair; which has cost him and me so dearly in reflection. Oftengravelled, as we both were, yet was he never daunted.--Poor M'Donald! Imust once more say:--for carrying on a solemn piece of roguery, he had noequal.
I was so solicitous to know if he were really as bad as thou hast a knackof painting every body whom thou singlest out to exercise thy murderingpen upon, that I dispatched a man and horse to Maidstone, as soon as Ihad thine; and had word brought me, that he died in two hours after hehad received thy five guineas. And all thou wrotest of his concern, inrelation to the ever-dear Miss Harlowe, it seems was true.
I can't help it, Belford!--I have only to add, that it is happy that thepoor fellow lived not to be hanged; as it seems he would have been; forwho knows, as he had got into such a penitential strain, what might havebeen in his dying speech?
When a man has not great good to comfort himself with, it is right tomake the best of the little that may offer. There never was anydiscomfort happened to mortal man, but some little ray of consolationwould dart in, if the wretch was not so much a wretch, as to draw,instead of undraw, the curtain, to keep it out.
And so much, at this time, and for ever, for poor Capt. Tomlinson, as Icalled him.
Your solicitude to get me out of this heavy changeable climate exactlytallies with every body's here. They all believe that travelling willestablish me. Yet I think I am quite well. Only these plaguy news andfulls, and the equinoctals, fright me a little when I think of them; andthat is always: for the whole family are continually ringing thesechanges in my ears, and are more sedulously intent, than I can wellaccount for, to get me out of the kingdom.
But wilt thou write often, when I am gone? Wilt thou then piece thethread where thou brokest it off? Wilt thou give me the particulars oftheir distress, who were my auxiliaries in bringing on the event thataffects me?--Nay, principals rather: Since, say what thou wilt, what didI do worth a woman's breaking her heart for?
Faith and troth, Jack, I have had very hard usage, as I have often said:--to have such a plaguy ill name given me, screamed out upon, run awayfrom, as a mad dog would be; all my own friends ready to renounce me!--Yet I think I deserve it all; for have I not been as ready to give upmyself, as others are to condemn me?
What madness, what folly, this!--Who will take the part of a man thatcondemns himself?--Who can?--He that pleads guilty to an indictment,leaves no room for aught but the sentence. Out upon me, for animpolitical wretch! I have not the art of the least artful of any of ourChristian princes; who every day are guilty of ten times worse breachesof faith; and yet, issuing out a manifesto, they wipe their mouths, andgo on from infraction to infraction, from robbery to robbery; commitdevastation upon devastation; and destroy--for their glory! And arerewarded with the names of conquerors, and are dubbed Le Grand; praised,and even deified, by orators and poets, for their butcheries anddepredations.
While I, a poor, single, harmless prowler; at least comparativelyharmless; in order to satisfy my hunger, steal but one poor lamb; andevery mouth is opened, every hand is lifted up, against me.
Nay, as I have just now heard, I am to be manifestoed against, thoughno prince: for Miss Howe threatens to have the case published to the wholeworld.
I have a good mind not to oppose it; and to write an answer to it, assoon as it comes forth, and exculpate myself, by throwing all the faultupon the old ones. And this I have to plead, supposing all that my worstenemies can allege against me were true,--That I am not answerable forall the extravagant consequences that this affair has been attended with;and which could not possibly be foreseen.
And this I will prove demonstrably by a case, which, but a few hours ago,I put to Lord M. and the two Misses Montague. This it is:
Suppose A, a miser, had hid a parcel of gold in a secret place, in order to keep it there, till he could lend it out at extravagant interest.
Suppose B, in such a great want of this treasure, as to be unable to live without it.
And suppose A, the miser, has such an opinion of B, the wanter, that he would rather lend it to him, than to any mortal living; but yet, though he has no other use in the world for it, insists upon very unconscionable terms.
B would gladly pay common interest for it; but would be undone, (in his own opinion at least, and that is every thing to him,) if he complied with the miser's terms; since he would be sure to be soon thrown into gaol for the debt, and made a prisoner for life. Wherefore guessing (being an arch, penetrating fellow) where the sweet hoard lies, he searches for it, when the miser is in a profound sleep, finds it, and runs away with it.
[B, in this case, can only be a thief, that's plain, Jack.]
Here Miss Montague put in very smartly.--A thief, Sir, said she, thatsteals what is and ought to be dearer to me than my life, deserves lessto be forgiven than he who murders me.
But what is this, cousin Charlotte, said I, that is dearer to you thanyour life? Your honour, you'll say--I will not talk to a lady (I neverdid) in a way she cannot answer me--But in the instance for which I putmy case, (allowing all you attribute to the phantom) what honour is lost,where the will is not violated, and the person cannot help it? But, withrespect to the case put, how knew we, till the theft was committed, thatthe miser did actually set so romantic a value upon the treasure?
Both my cousins were silent; and my Lord, because he could not answer me,cursed me; and I proceeded.
Well then, the result is, that B can only be a thief; that's plain.--Topursue, therefore, my case--
Suppose this same miserly A, on awaking and searching for, and finding his treasure gone, takes it so much to heart that he starves himself;
Who but himself is to blame for that?--Would either equity, law, or conscience, hang B for a murder?
And now to apply, said I----
None of your applications, cried my cousins, both in a breath.
None of your applications, and be d----d to you, the passionate Peer.
Well then, returned I, I am to conclude it to be a case so plain that itneeds none; looking at the two girls, who tried for a blush a-piece. AndI hold myself, of consequence, acquitted of the death.
Not so, cried my Lord, [Peers are judges, thou knowest, Jack, in the lastresort:] for if, by committing an unlawful act, a capital crime is theconsequence, you are answerable for both.
Say you so, my good Lord?--But will you take upon you to say, supposing(as in the present case) a rape (saving your presence, cousin Charlotte,saving your presence, cousin Patty)--Is death the natural consequence ofa rape?--Did you ever hear, my Lord, or did you, Ladies, that it was?--And if not the natural consequence, and a lady will destroy herself,whether by a lingering death, as of grief; or by the dagger, as Lucretiadid; is there more than one fault the man's?--Is not the other her's?--Were it not so, let me tell you, my dears, chucking each of my blushingcousins under the chin, we either would have had no men so wicked asyoung Tarquin was, or no women so virtuous as Lucretia, in the space of--How many thousand years, my Lord?--And so Lucretia is recorded as asingle wonder!
You may believe I was cried out upon. People who can
not answer, willrave: and this they all did. But I insisted upon it to them, and so I doto you, Jack, that I ought to be acquitted of every thing but a commontheft, a private larceny, as the lawyers call it, in this point. Andwere my life to be a forfeit of the law, it would not be for murder.
Besides, as I told them, there was a circumstance strongly in my favourin this case: for I would have been glad, with all my soul, to havepurchased my forgiveness by a compliance with the terms I first boggledat. And this, you all know, I offered; and my Lord, and Lady Betty, andLady Sarah, and my two cousins, and all my cousins' cousins, to thefourteenth generation, would have been bound for me--But it would not do:the sweet miser would break her heart, and die: And how could I help it?
Upon the whole, Jack, had not the lady died, would there have been halfso much said of it, as there is? Was I the cause of her death? or couldI help it? And have there not been, in a million of cases like this,nine hundred and ninty-nine thousand that have not ended as this hasended?--How hard, then, is my fate!--Upon my soul, I won't bear it as Ihave done; but, instead of taking guilt to myself, claim pity. And this(since yesterday cannot be recalled) is the only course I can pursue tomake myself easy. Proceed anon.