LETTER XVI
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.WEDNESDAY, MAY 3.
When I have already taken pains to acquaint thee in full with regard tomy views, designs, and resolutions, with regard to this admirable woman,it is very extraordinary that thou shouldst vapour as thou dost in herbehalf, when I have made no trial, no attempt: and yet, givest it as thyopinion in a former letter, that advantage may be taken of the situationshe is in; and that she may be overcome.
Most of thy reflections, particularly that which respects the differenceas to the joys to be given by the virtuous and libertine of her sex, arefitter to come in as after-reflections than as antecedencies.
I own with thee, and with the poet, that sweet are the joys that comewith willingness--But is it to be expected, that a woman of education,and a lover of forms, will yield before she is attacked? And have I somuch as summoned this to surrender? I doubt not but I shall meet withdifficulty. I must therefore make my first effort by surprise. Theremay possibly be some cruelty necessary: but there may be consent instruggle; there may be yielding in resistance. But the first conflictover, whether the following may not be weaker and weaker, tillwillingness ensue, is the point to be tried. I will illustrate what Ihave said by the simile of a bird new caught. We begin, when boys, withbirds; and when grown up, go on to women; and both perhaps, in turn,experience our sportive cruelty.
Hast thou not observed, the charming gradations by which the ensnaredvolatile has been brought to bear with its new condition? how, at first,refusing all sustenance, it beats and bruises itself against its wires,till it makes its gay plumage fly about, and over-spread its well-securedcage. Now it gets out its head; sticking only at its beautifulshoulders: then, with difficulty, drawing back its head, it gasps forbreath, and erectly perched, with meditating eyes, first surveys, andthen attempts, its wired canopy. As it gets its pretty head and sides,bites the wires, and pecks at the fingers of its delighted tamer. Tillat last, finding its efforts ineffectual, quite tired and breathless, itlays itself down, and pants at the bottom of the cage, seeming to bemoanits cruel fate and forfeited liberty. And after a few days, itsstruggles to escape still diminishing as it finds it to no purpose toattempt it, its new habitation becomes familiar; and it hops about fromperch to perch, resumes its wonted cheerfulness, and every day sings asong to amuse itself and reward its keeper.
Now let me tell thee, that I have known a bird actually starve itself, anddie with grief, at its being caught and caged. But never did I meet witha woman who was so silly.--Yet have I heard the dear souls mostvehemently threaten their own lives on such an occasion. But it issaying nothing in a woman's favour, if we do not allow her to have moresense than a bird. And yet we must all own, that it is more difficult tocatch a bird than a lady.
To pursue the comparison--If the disappointment of the captivated lady bevery great, she will threaten, indeed, as I said: she will even refuseher sustenance for some time, especially if you entreat her much, and shethinks she gives you concern by her refusal. But then the stomach of thedear sullen one will soon return. 'Tis pretty to see how she comes to bydegrees: pressed by appetite, she will first steal, perhaps, a weepingmorsel by herself; then be brought to piddle and sigh, and sigh andpiddle before you; now-and-then, if her viands be unsavoury, swallowingwith them a relishing tear or two: then she comes to eat and drink, tooblige you: then resolves to live for your sake: her exclamations will,in the next place, be turned into blandishments; her vehement upbraidingsinto gentle murmuring--how dare you, traitor!--into how could you,dearest! She will draw you to her, instead of pushing you from her: nolonger, with unsheathed claws, will she resist you; but, like a pretty,playful, wanton kitten, with gentle paws, and concealed talons, tap yourcheek, and with intermingled smiles, and tears, and caresses, imploreyour consideration for her, and your constancy: all the favour she thenhas to ask of you!--And this is the time, were it given to man to confinehimself to one object, to be happier every day than another.
Now, Belford, were I to go no farther than I have gone with my belovedMiss Harlowe, how shall I know the difference between her and anotherbird? To let her fly now, what a pretty jest would that be!--How do Iknow, except I try, whether she may not be brought to sing me a finesong, and to be as well contented as I have brought other birds to be,and very shy ones too?
But now let us reflect a little upon the confounded partiality of ushuman creatures. I can give two or three familiar, and if they were notfamiliar, they would be shocking, instances of the cruelty both of menand women, with respect to other creatures, perhaps as worthy as (atleast more innocent than) themselves. By my soul, Jack, there is more ofthe savage on human nature than we are commonly aware of. Nor is it,after all, so much amiss, that we sometimes avenge the more innocentanimals upon our own species.
To particulars:
How usual a thing is it for women as well as men, without the leastremorse, to ensnare, to cage, and torment, and even with burningknitting-needles to put out the eyes of the poor feather'd songster [thouseest I have not yet done with birds]; which however, in proportion toits bulk, has more life than themselves (for a bird is all soul;) and ofconsequence has as much feeling as the human creature! when at the sametime, if an honest fellow, by the gentlest persuasion, and the softestarts, has the good luck to prevail upon a mew'd-up lady, to countenanceher own escape, and she consents to break cage, and be set a flying intothe all-cheering air of liberty, mercy on us! what an outcry is generallyraised against him!
Just like what you and I once saw raised in a paltry village nearChelmsford, after a poor hungry fox, who, watching his opportunity, hadseized by the neck, and shouldered a sleek-feathered goose: at what timewe beheld the whole vicinage of boys and girls, old men, and old women,all the furrows and wrinkles of the latter filled up with malice for thetime; the old men armed with prongs, pitch-forks, clubs, and catsticks;the old women with mops, brooms, fire-shovels, tongs, and pokers; and theyounger fry with dirt, stones, and brickbats, gathering as they ran likea snowball, in pursuit of the wind-outstripping prowler; all the mongrelcurs of the circumjacencies yelp, yelp, yelp, at their heels, completingthe horrid chorus.
Rememebrest thou not this scene? Surely thou must. My imagination,inflamed by a tender sympathy for the danger of the adventurous marauder,represents it to my eye as if it were but yesterday. And dost thou notrecollect how generously glad we were, as if our own case, that honestreynard, by the help of a lucky stile, over which both old and youngtumbled upon one another, and a winding course, escaped their brutalfury, and flying catsticks; and how, in fancy, we followed him to hisundiscovered retreat; and imagined we beheld the intrepid thief enjoyinghis dear-earned purchase with a delight proportioned to his past danger?
I once made a charming little savage severely repent the delight she tookin seeing her tabby favourite make cruel sport with a pretty sleek bead-eyed mouse, before she devoured it. Egad, my love, said I to myself, asI sat meditating the scene, I am determined to lie in wait for a fitopportunity to try how thou wilt like to be tost over my head, and becaught again: how thou wilt like to be parted from me, and pulled to me.Yet will I rather give life than take it away, as this barbarousquadruped has at last done by her prey. And after all was over betweenmy girl and me, I reminded her of the incident to which my resolution wasowing.
Nor had I at another time any mercy upon the daughter of an old epicure,who had taught the girl, without the least remorse, to roast lobstersalive; to cause a poor pig to be whipt to death; to scrape carp thecontrary way of the scales, making them leap in the stew-pan, anddressing them in their own blood for sauce. And this for luxury-sake,and to provoke an appetite; which I had without stimulation, in my way,and that I can tell thee a very ravenous one.
Many more instances of the like nature could I give, were I to leavenothing to thyself, to shew that the best take the same liberties, andperhaps worse, with some sort of creatures, that we take with others; allcreatures still! and creatures too, as I
have observed above, repletewith strong life, and sensible feeling!--If therefore people pretend tomercy, let mercy go through all their actions. I have heard somewhere,that a merciful man is merciful to his beast.
So much at present for those parts of thy letter in which thou urgest tome motives of compassion for the lady.
But I guess at thy principal motive in this thy earnestness in behalf ofthis charming creature. I know that thou correspondest with Lord M. whois impatient, and has long been desirous to see me shackled. And thouwantest to make a merit with the uncle, with a view to one of his nieces.But knowest thou not, that my consent will be wanting to complete thywishes?--And what a commendation will it be of thee to such a girl asCharlotte, when I shall acquaint her with the affront thou puttest uponthe whole sex, by asking, Whether I think my reward, when I have subduedthe most charming woman in the world, will be equal to my trouble?--Which, thinkest thou, will a woman of spirit soonest forgive; theundervaluing varlet who can put such a question; or him, who prefers thepursuit and conquest of a fine woman to all the joys of life? Have I notknown even a virtuous woman, as she would be thought, vow everlastingantipathy to a man who gave out that she was too old for him to attempt?And did not Essex's personal reflection on Queen Elizabeth, that she wasold and crooked, contribute more to his ruin than his treason?
But another word or two, as to thy objection relating to my trouble andreward.
Does not the keen fox-hunter endanger his neck and his bones in pursuitof a vermin, which, when killed, is neither fit food for men nor dogs?
Do not the hunters of the noble game value the venison less than thesport?
Why then should I be reflected upon, and the sex affronted, for mypatience and perseverance in the most noble of all chases; and for notbeing a poacher in love, as thy question be made to imply?
Learn of thy master, for the future, to treat more respectfully a sexthat yields us our principal diversions and delights.
Proceed anon.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 18