LETTER XXXII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.SATURDAY, JULY 22.
What dost hate me for, Belford!--and why more and more! have I beenguilty of any offence thou knewest not before?--If pathos can move such aheart as thine, can it alter facts!--Did I not always do thisincomparable creature as much justice as thou canst do her for the heartof thee, or as she can do herself?----What nonsense then thy hatred, thyaugmented hatred, when I still persist to marry her, pursuant to wordgiven to thee, and to faith plighted to all my relations? But hate, ifthou wilt, so thou dost but write. Thou canst not hate me so much as Ido myself: and yet I know if thou really hatedst me, thou wouldst notventure to tell me so.
Well, but after all, what need of her history to these women? She willcertainly repent, some time hence, that she has thus needless exposed usboth.
Sickness palls every appetite, and makes us hate what we loved: butrenewed health changes the scene; disposes us to be pleased withourselves; and then we are in a way to be pleased with every one else.Every hope, then, rises upon us: every hour presents itself to us ondancing feet: and what Mr. Addison says of liberty, may, with stillgreater propriety, be said of health, for what is liberty itself withouthealth?
It makes the gloomy face of nature gay; Gives beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
And I rejoice that she is already so much better, as to hold withstrangers such a long and interesting conversation.
Strange, confoundedly strange, and as perverse [that is to say, womanly]as strange, that she should refuse, and sooner choose to die [O theobscene word! and yet how free does thy pen make with it to me!] than bemine, who offended her by acting in character, while her parents actedshamefully out of theirs, and when I am now willing to act out of my ownto oblige her; yet I am not to be forgiven; they to be faultless withher!--and marriage the only medium to repair all breaches, and to salveher own honour!--Surely thou must see the inconsistence of her forgivingunforgiveness, as I may call it!--yet, heavy varlet as thou art, thouwantest to be drawn up after her! And what a figure dost thou make withthy speeches, stiff as Hickman's ruffles, with thy aspirations andprotestations!--unused, thy weak head, to bear the sublimities that fall,even in common conversation, from the lips of this ever-charmingcreature!
But the prettiest whim of all was, to drop the bank note behind herchair, instead of presenting it on thy knees to her hand!--To make such awoman as this doubly stoop--by the acceptance, and to take it from theground!--What an ungrateful benefit-conferrer art thou!--How awkward, totake in into thy head, that the best way of making a present to a ladywas to throw the present behind her chair!
I am very desirous to see what she has written to her sister; what she isabout to write to Miss Howe; and what return she will have from theHarlowe-Arabella. Canst thou not form some scheme to come at the copiesof these letters, or the substance of them at least, and of that of herother correspondencies? Mrs. Lovick, thou seemest to say, is a piouswoman. The lady, having given such a particular history of herself, willacquaint her with every thing. And art thou not about to reform!--Won'tthis consent of minds between thee and the widow, [what age is she, Jack?the devil never trumpt up a friendship between a man and a woman, of anything like years, which did not end in matrimony, or in the ruin of theirmorals!] Won't it strike out an intimacy between ye, that may enablethee to gratify me in this particular? A proselyte, I can tell thee, hasgreat influence upon your good people: such a one is a saint of their owncreation: and they will water, and cultivate, and cherish him, as a plantof their own raising: and this from a pride truly spiritual!
One of my lovers in Paris was a devotee. She took great pains to convertme. I gave way to her kind endeavours for the good of my soul. Shethought it a point gained to make me profess some religion. The catholichas its conveniencies. I permitted her to bring a father to me. Myreformation went on swimmingly. The father had hopes of me: he applaudedher zeal: so did I. And how dost thou think it ended?--Not a girl inEngland, reading thus far, but would guess!--In a word, very happily: forshe not only brought me a father, but made me one: and then, beingsatisfied with each other's conversation, we took different routes: sheinto Navarre; I into Italy: both well inclined to propagate the goodlessons in which we had so well instructed each other.
But to return. One consolation arises to me, from the pretty regretswhich this admirable creature seems to have in indulging reflections onthe people's wedding-day.--I ONCE!--thou makest her break off withsaying.
She once! What--O Belford! why didst thou not urge her to explain whatshe once hoped?
What once a woman hopes, in love matters, she always hopes, while thereis room for hope: And are we not both single? Can she be any man's butmine? Will I be any woman's but her's?
I never will! I never can!--and I tell thee, that I am every day, everyhour, more and more in love with her: and, at this instant, have a morevehement passion for her than ever I had in my life!--and that with viewsabsolutely honourable, in her own sense of the word: nor have I varied,so much as in wish, for this week past; firmly fixed, and wrought into myvery nature, as the life of honour, or of generous confidence in me, was,in preference to the life of doubt and distrust. That must be a life ofdoubt and distrust, surely, where the woman confides nothing, and ties upa man for his good behaviour for life, taking church-and-state sanctionsin aid of the obligation she imposes upon him.
I shall go on Monday to a kind of ball, to which Colonel Ambrose hasinvited me. It is given on a family account. I care not on what: forall that delights me in the thing is, that Mrs. and Miss Howe are to bethere;--Hickman, of course; for the old lady will not stir abroad withouthim. The Colonel is in hopes that Miss Arabella Harlowe will be therelikewise; for all the men and women of fashion round him are invited.
I fell in by accident with the Colonel, who I believe, hardly thought Iwould accept of the invitation. But he knows me not, if he thinks I amashamed to appear at any place, where women dare show their faces. Yethe hinted to me that my name was up, on Miss Harlowe's account. But, toallude to one of Lord M.'s phrases, if it be, I will not lie a bed whenany thing joyous is going forward.
As I shall go in my Lord's chariot, I would have had one of my cousinsMontague to go with me: but they both refused: and I shall not choose totake either of thy brethren. It would look as if I thought I wanted abodyguard: besides, one of them is too rough, the other too smooth, andtoo great a fop for some of the staid company that will be there; and forme in particular. Men are known by their companions; and a fop [asTourville, for example] takes great pains to hang out a sign by his dressof what he has in his shop. Thou, indeed, art an exception; dressinglike a coxcomb, yet a very clever fellow. Nevertheless so clumsy a beau,that thou seemest to me to owe thyself a double spite, making thyungracefulness appear the more ungraceful, by thy remarkable tawdriness,when thou art out of mourning.
I remember, when I first saw thee, my mind laboured with a strong puzzle,whether I should put thee down for a great fool, or a smatterer in wit.Something I saw was wrong in thee, by thy dress. If this fellow, thoughtI, delights not so much in ridicule, that he will not spare himself, hemust be plaguy silly to take so much pains to make his ugliness moreconspicuous than it would otherwise be.
Plain dress, for an ordinary man or woman, implies at least modesty, andalways procures a kind quarter from the censorious. Who will ridicule apersonal imperfection in one that seems conscious, that it is animperfection? Who ever said an anchoret was poor? But who would spareso very absurd a wrong-head, as should bestow tinsel to make hisdeformity the more conspicuous?
But, although I put on these lively airs, I am sick at my soul!--My wholeheart is with my charmer! with what indifference shall I look upon allthe assembly at the Colonel's, my beloved in my ideal eye, and engrossingmy whole heart?
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7 Page 32