LETTER VI
MR. MOWBRAY, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.UXBRIDGE, SEPT. 7, BETWEEN ELEVEN AND TWELVE AT NIGHT.
DEAR JACK,
I send by poor Lovelace's desire, for particulars of the fatal breviatethou sentest him this night. He cannot bear to set pen to paper; yetwants to know every minute passage of Miss Harlowe's departure. Yet whyhe should, I cannot see: for if she is gone, she is gone; and who canhelp it?
I never heard of such a woman in my life. What great matters has shesuffered, that grief should kill her thus?
I wish the poor fellow had never known her. From first to last, whattrouble she has cost him! The charming fellow had been half lost to usever since he pursued her. And what is there in one woman more thananother, for matter of that?
It was well we were with him when your note came. Your showed your truefriendship in your foresight. Why, Jack, the poor fellow was quitebeside himself--mad as any man ever was in Bedlam.
Will. brought him the letter just after we had joined him at the BohemiaHead; where he had left word at the Rose at Knightsbridge he should be;for he had been sauntering up and down, backwards and forwards, expectingus, and his fellow. Will., as soon as he delivered it, got out of hisway; and, when he opened it, never was such a piece of scenery. Hetrembled like a devil at receiving it: fumbled at the seal, his fingersin a palsy, like Tom. Doleman's; his hand shake, shake, shake, that hetore the letter in two, before he could come at the contents: and, whenhe had read them, off went his hat to one corner of the room, his wig tothe other--D--n--n seize the world! and a whole volley of such-likeexcratious wishes; running up and down the room, and throwing up thesash, and pulling it down, and smiting his forehead with his double fist,with such force as would have felled as ox, and stamping and tearing,that the landlord ran in, and faster out again. And this was thedistraction scene for some time.
In vain was all Jemmy or I could say to him. I offered once to take holdof his hands, because he was going to do himself a mischief, as Ibelieved, looking about for his pistols, which he had laid upon thetable, but which Will., unseen, had taken out with him, [a faithful,honest dog, that Will.! I shall for ever love the fellow for it,] and hehit me a d--d dowse of the chops, as made my nose bleed. 'Twas well'twas he, for I hardly knew how to take it.
Jemmy raved at him, and told him, how wicked it was in him, to be sobrutish to abuse a friend, and run mad for a woman. And then he said hewas sorry for it; and then Will. ventured in with water and a towel; andthe dog rejoiced, as I could see by his look, that I had it rather thanhe.
And so, by degrees, we brought him a little to his reason, and hepromised to behave more like a man. And so I forgave him: and we rode onin the dark to here at Doleman's. And we all tried to shame him out ofhis mad, ungovernable foolishness: for we told him, as how she was but awoman, and an obstinate perverse woman too; and how could he help it?
And you know, Jack, (as we told him, moreover,) that it was a shame tomanhood, for a man, who had served twenty and twenty women as bad orworse, let him have served Miss Harlowe never so bad, should give himselfsuch obstropulous airs, because she would die: and we advised him neverto attempt a woman proud of her character and virtue, as they call it,any more: for why? The conquest did not pay trouble; and what was therein one woman more than another? Hay, you know, Jack!--And thus wecomforted him, and advised him.
But yet his d--d addled pate runs upon this lady as much now she's deadas it did when she was living. For, I suppose, Jack, it is no joke: sheis certainly and bona fide dead: I'n't she? If not, thou deservest to bedoubly d--d for thy fooling, I tell thee that. So he will have me writefor particulars of her departure.
He won't bear the word dead on any account. A squeamish puppy! How loveunmans and softens! And such a noble fellow as this too! Rot him for anidiot, and an oaf! I have no patience with the foolish duncical dog--upon my soul, I have not!
So send the account, and let him howl over it, as I suppose he will.
But he must and shall go abroad: and in a month or two Jemmy, and you,and I, will join him, and he'll soon get the better of thischicken-hearted folly, never fear; and will then be ashamed of himself:and then we'll not spare him; though now, poor fellow, it were pity tolay him on so thick as he deserves. And do thou, till then, spare allreflections upon him; for, it seems, thou hast worked him unmercifully.
I was willing to give thee some account of the hand we have had with thetearing fellow, who had certainly been a lost man, had we not been withhim; or he would have killed somebody or other. I have no doubt of it.And now he is but very middling; sits grinning like a man in straw;curses and swears, and is confounded gloomy; and creeps into holes andcorners, like an old hedge-hog hunted for his grease.
And so, adieu, Jack. Tourville, and all of us, wish for thee; for no onehas the influence upon him that thou hast.
R. MOWBRAY.
As I promised him that I would write for the particulars abovesaid, I write this after all are gone to bed; and the fellow is set out with it by day-break.