LETTER XLVI
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.[IN ANSWER TO HIS LETTERS XXIII. XXXVII. OF THIS VOLUME.]THURSDAY, AUG. 31.
I cannot but own that I am cut to the heart by this Miss Harlowe'sinterpretation of her letter. She ought never to be forgiven. She, ameek person, and a penitent, and innocent, and pious, and I know notwhat, who can deceive with a foot in the grave!--
'Tis evident, that she sat down to write this letter with a design tomislead and deceive. And if she be capable of that, at such a crisis,she has as much need of Heaven's forgiveness, as I have of her's: and,with all her cant of charity and charity, if she be not more sure of itthan I am of her real pardon, and if she take the thing in the light sheought to take it in, she will have a few darker moments yet to come thanshe seems to expect.
Lord M. himself, who is not one of those (to speak in his own phrase) whocan penetrate a millstone, sees the deceit, and thinks it unworthy ofher; though my cousins Montague vindicate her. And no wonder this cursedpartial sex [I hate 'em all--by my soul, I hate 'em all!] will neverallow any thing against an individual of it, where our's is concerned.And why? Because, if they censure deceit in another, they must condemntheir own hearts.
She is to send me a letter after she is in Heaven, is she? The deviltake such allegories, and the devil take thee for calling this absurdityan innocent artifice!
I insist upon it, that if a woman of her character, at such a criticaltime, is to be justified in such a deception, a man in full health andvigour of body and mind, as I am, may be excused for all his stratagemsand attempts against her. And, thank my stars, I can now sit me downwith a quiet conscience on that score. By my soul, I can, Jack. Nor hasany body, who can acquit her, a right to blame me. But with some,indeed, every thing she does must be good, every thing I do must be bad--And why? Because she has always taken care to coax the stupid misjudgingworld, like a woman: while I have constantly defied and despised itscensures, like a man.
But, notwithstanding all, you may let her know from me that I will notmolest her, since my visits would be so shocking to her: and I hope shewill take this into her consideration as a piece of generosity which shecould hardly expect after the deception she has put upon me. And let herfarther know, that if there be any thing in my power, that willcontribute either to her ease or honour, I will obey her, at the veryfirst intimation, however disgraceful or detrimental to myself. Allthis, to make her unapprehensive, and that she may have nothing to pullher back.
If her cursed relations could be brought as cheerfully to perform theirparts, I'd answer life for life for her recovery.
But who, that has so many ludicrous images raised in his mind by theawkward penitence, can forbear laughing at thee? Spare, I beseech thee,dear Belford, for the future, all thine own aspirations, if thou wouldstnot dishonour those of an angel indeed.
When I came to that passage, where thou sayest that thou considerest her*as one sent from Heaven to draw thee after her--for the heart of me Icould not for an hour put thee out of my head, in the attitude of dameElizabeth Carteret, on her monument in Westminster Abbey. If thou neverobservedst it, go thither on purpose: and there wilt thou see this damein effigy, with uplifted head and hand, the latter taken hold of by acupid every inch of stone, one clumsy foot lifted up also, aiming, as thesculptor designed it, to ascend; but so executed, as would rather makeone imagine that the figure (without shoe or stocking, as it is, thoughthe rest of the body is robed) was looking up to its corn-cutter: theother riveted to its native earth, bemired, like thee (immersed thoucallest it) beyond the possibility of unsticking itself. Both figures,thou wilt find, seem to be in a contention, the bigger, whether it shouldpull down the lesser about its ears--the lesser (a chubby fat littlevarlet, of a fourth part of the other's bigness, with wings not muchlarger than those of a butterfly) whether it should raise the larger to aHeaven it points to, hardly big enough to contain the great toes ofeither.
* See Letter XXXVII. of this volume.
Thou wilt say, perhaps, that the dame's figure in stone may do credit, inthe comparison, to thine, both in grain and shape, wooden as thou art allover: but that the lady, who, in every thing but in the trick she hasplayed me so lately, is truly an angel, is but sorrily represented by thefat-flanked cupid. This I allow thee. But yet there is enough in thyaspirations to strike my mind with a resemblance of thee and the lady tothe figures on the wretched monument; for thou oughtest to remember,that, prepared as she may be to mount to her native skies, it isimpossible for her to draw after her a heavy fellow who has so much torepent of as thou hast.
But now, to be serious once more, let me tell you, Belford, that, if thelady be really so ill as you write she is, it will become you [no Romanstyle here!] in a case so very affecting, to be a little less pointed andsarcastic in your reflections. For, upon my soul, the matter begins tograte me most confoundedly.
I am now so impatient to hear oftener of her, that I take the hintaccidentally given me by our two fellows meeting at Slough, and resolveto go to our friend Doleman's at Uxbridge; whose wife and sister, as wellas he, have so frequently pressed me to give them my company for a weekor two. There shall I be within two hours' ride, if any thing shouldhappen to induce her to see me: for it will well become her piety, andavowed charity, should the worst happen, [the Lord of Heaven and Earth,however, avert that worst!] to give me that pardon from her lips, whichshe has not denied to me by pen and ink. And as she wishes myreformation, she knows not what good effects such an interview may haveupon me.
I shall accordingly be at Doleman's to-morrow morning, by eleven atfarthest. My fellow will find me there at his return from you (with aletter, I hope). I shall have Joel with me likewise, that I may sendthe oftener, as matters fall out. Were I to be still nearer, or in town,it would be impossible to withhold myself from seeing her.
But, if the worst happen!--as, by your continual knelling, I know notwhat to think of it!--[Yet, once more, Heaven avert that worst!--Hownatural it is to pray, when once cannot help one's self!]--THEN say not,in so many dreadful words, what the event is--Only, that you advise me totake a trip to Paris--And that will stab me to the heart.
***
I so well approve of your generosity to poor Belton's sister, that I havemade Mowbray give up his legacy, as I do mine, towards her India bonds.When I come to town, Tourville shall do the like; and we will buy each aring to wear in memory of the honest fellow, with our own money, that wemay perform his will, as well as our own.
My fellow rides the rest of the night. I charge you, Jack, if you wouldsave his life, that you send him not back empty-handed.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 Page 47