If no other mediation than this can be procured to set on foot the wished-for reconciliation, and if my situation with Mr. Lovelace alter not in the interim, I must endeavour to keep myself in a state of independence till he arrive, that I may be at liberty to govern myself by his advice and direction.
I will acquaint you, as you desire, with all that pa.s.ses between Mr. Lovelace and me. Hitherto I have not discovered any thing in his behaviour that is very exceptionable. Yet I cannot say, that I think the respect he shews me, an easy, unrestrained, and natural respect, although I can hardly tell where the fault is.
But he has doubtless an arrogant and encroaching spirit. Nor is he so polite as his education, and other advantages, might have made one expect him to be. He seems, in short, to be one, who has always had too much of his own will to study to accommodate himself to that of others.
As to the placing of some confidence in him, I shall be as ready to take your advice in this particular, as in all others, and as he will be to deserve it. But tricked away as I was by him, not only against my judgment, but my inclination, can he, or any body, expect, that I should immediately treat him with complaisance, as if I acknowledged obligation to him for carrying me away?--If I did, must he not either think me a vile dissembler before he gained that point, or afterwards?
Indeed, indeed, my dear, I could tear my hair, on reconsidering what you write (as to the probability that the dreaded Wednesday was more dreaded than it needed to be) to think, that I should be thus tricked by this man; and that, in all likelihood, through his vile agent Joseph Leman.
So premeditated and elaborate a wickedness as it must be!--Must I not, with such a man, be wanting to myself, if I were not jealous and vigilant?--Yet what a life to live for a spirit so open, and naturally so unsuspicious, as mine?
I am obliged to Mr. Hickman for the a.s.sistance he is so kindly ready to give to our correspondence. He is so little likely to make to himself an additional merit with the daughter upon it, that I shall be very sorry, if he risk any thing with the mother by it.
I am now in a state of obligation: so must rest satisfied with whatever I cannot help. Whom have I the power, once so precious to me, of obliging?--What I mean, my dear, is, that I ought, perhaps, to expect, that my influences over you are weakened by my indiscretion.
Nevertheless, I will not, if I can help it, desert myself, nor give up the privilege you used to allow me, of telling you what I think of such parts of your conduct as I may not approve.
You must permit me therefore, severe as your mother is against an undesigning offender, to say that I think your liveliness to her inexcusable--to pa.s.s over, for this time, what nevertheless concerns me not a little, the free treatment you almost indiscriminately give to my relations.
If you will not, for your duty"s sake, forbear your tauntings and impatience, let me beseech you, that you will for mine.--Since otherwise, your mother may apprehend that my example, like a leaven, is working itself into the mind of her beloved daughter. And may not such an apprehension give her an irreconcilable displeasure against me?
I enclose the copy of my letter to my sister, which you are desirous to see. You will observe, that although I have not demanded my estate in form, and of my trustees, yet that I have hinted at leave to retire to it. How joyfully would I keep my word, if they would accept of the offer I renew!--It was not proper, I believe you will think, on many accounts, to own that I was carried off against my inclination. I am, my dearest friend,
Your ever obliged and affectionate, CL. HARLOWE.
LETTER X
TO MISS ARABELLA HARLOWE [ENCLOSED TO MISS HOWE IN THE PRECEDING.] ST.
ALBAN"S, APR. 11.
MY DEAR SISTER,
I have, I confess, been guilty of an action which carries with it a rash and undutiful appearance. And I should have thought it an inexcusable one, had I been used with less severity than I have been of late; and had I not had too great reason to apprehend, that I was to be made a sacrifice to a man I could not bear to think of. But what is done, is done--perhaps I could wish it had not; and that I had trusted to the relenting of my dear and honourable parents.--Yet this from no other motives but those of duty to them.--To whom I am ready to return (if I may not be permitted to retire to The Grove) on conditions which I before offered to comply with.
Nor shall I be in any sort of dependence upon the person by whose means I have taken this truly-reluctant step, inconsistent with any reasonable engagement I shall enter into, if I am not further precipitated. Let me not have it to say, now at this important crisis! that I have a sister, but not a friend in that sister. My reputation, dearer to me than life, (whatever you may imagine from the step I have taken,) is suffering. A little lenity will, even yet, in a great measure, restore it, and make that pa.s.s for a temporary misunderstanding only, which otherwise will be a stain as durable as life, upon a creature who has already been treated with great unkindness, to use no harsher a word.
For your own sake therefore, for my brother"s sake, by whom (I must say) I have been thus precipitated, and for all the family"s sake, aggravate not my fault, if, on recollecting every thing, you think it one; nor by widening the unhappy difference, expose a sister for ever--prays
Your affectionate CL. HARLOWE.
I shall take it for a very great favour to have my clothes directly sent me, together with fifty guineas, which you will find in my escritoire (of which I enclose the key); as also of the divinity and miscellany cla.s.ses of my little library; and, if it be thought fit, my jewels--directed for me, to be left till called for, at Mr. Osgood"s, near Soho-square.
LETTER XI
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
Mr. Lovelace, in continuation of his last letter, (No. VII.) gives an account to his friend (pretty much to the same effect with the lady"s) of all that pa.s.sed between them at the inns, in the journey, and till their fixing at Mrs.
Sorling"s; to avoid repet.i.tion, those pa.s.sages in his narrative are extracted, which will serve to embellish her"s; to open his views; or to display the humourous talent he was noted for.
At their alighting at the inn at St. Alban"s on Monday night, thus he writes:
The people who came about us, as we alighted, seemed by their jaw-fallen faces, and goggling eyes, to wonder at beholding a charming young lady, majesty in her air and aspect, so composedly dressed, yet with features so discomposed, come off a journey which made the cattle smoke, and the servants sweat. I read their curiosity in their faces, and my beloved"s uneasiness in her"s. She cast a conscious glance, as she alighted, upon her habit, which was no habit; and repulsively, as I may say, quitting my a.s.sisting hand, hurried into the house.*****
Ovid was not a greater master of metamorphoses than thy friend. To the mistress of the house I instantly changed her into a sister, brought off by surprise from a near relation"s, (where she had wintered,) to prevent her marrying a confounded rake, [I love always to go as near the truth as I can,] whom her father and mother, her elder sister, and all her loving uncles, aunts, and cousins abhorred. This accounted for my charmer"s expected sullens; for her displeasure when she was to join me again, were it to hold; for her unsuitable dress upon the road; and, at the same time, gave her a proper and seasonable a.s.surance of my honourable views.
Upon the debate between the lady and him, and particularly upon that part where she upbraids him with putting a young creature upon making a sacrifice of her duty and conscience, he write:
All these, and still more mortifying things, she said.
I heard her in silence. But when it came to my turn, I pleaded, I argued, I answered her, as well as I could.--And when humility would not do, I raised my voice, and suffered my eyes to sparkle with anger; hoping to take advantage of that sweet cowardice which is so amiable in the s.e.x, and to which my victory over this proud beauty is princ.i.p.ally owing.
She was not intimidated, however, and was going to rise upon me in her temper; and would have broken in upon my defence. But when a man talks to a woman upon such subjects, let her be ever so much in alt, "tis strange, if he cannot throw out a tub to the whale;--that is to say, if he cannot divert her from resenting one bold thing, by uttering two or three full as bold; but for which more favourable interpretations will lie.
To that part, where she tells him of the difficulty she made to correspond with him at first, thus he writes:
Very true, my precious!--And innumerable have been the difficulties thou hast made me struggle with. But one day thou mayest wish, that thou hadst spared this boast; as well as those other pretty haughtinesses, "That thou didst not reject Solmes for my sake: that my glory, if I valued myself upon carrying thee off, was thy shame: that I have more merit with myself than with thee, or any body else: [what a c.o.xcomb she makes me, Jack!] that thou wishest thyself in thy father"s house again, whatever were to be the consequence."--If I forgive thee, charmer, for these hints, for these reflections, for these wishes, for these contempts, I am not the Lovelace I have been reputed to be; and that thy treatment of me shews that thou thinkest I am.
In short, her whole air throughout this debate expressed a majestic kind of indignation, which implied a believed superiority of talents over the person to whom she spoke.
Thou hast heard me often expatiate upon the pitiful figure a man must make, whose wife has, or believes she has, more sense than himself. A thousand reasons could I give why I ought not to think of marrying Miss Clarissa Harlowe; at least till I can be sure, that she loves me with the preference I must expect from a wife.
I begin to stagger in my resolutions. Ever averse as I was to the hymeneal shackles, how easily will prejudices recur! Heaven give me the heart to be honest to my Clarissa!--There"s a prayer, Jack! If I should not be heard, what a sad thing would that be, for the most admirable of women!--Yet, as I do no often trouble Heaven with my prayers, who knows but this may be granted?
But there lie before me such charming difficulties, such scenery for intrigue, for stratagem, for enterprize. What a horrible thing, that my talents point all that way!--When I know what is honourable and just; and would almost wish to be honest?--Almost, I say; for such a varlet am I, that I cannot altogether wish it, for the soul of me!--Such a triumph over the whole s.e.x, if I can subdue this lady! My maiden vow, as I may call it!--For did not the s.e.x begin with me? And does this lady spare me? Thinkest thou, Jack, that I should have spared my Rosebud, had I been set at defiance thus?--Her grandmother besought me, at first, to spare her Rosebud: and when a girl is put, or puts herself into a man"s power, what can he wish for further? while I always considered opposition and resistance as a challenge to do my worst.*
* See Vol. I. Letter x.x.xIV.
Why, why, will the dear creature take such pains to appear all ice to me?--Why will she, by her pride, awaken mine?--Hast thou not seen, in the above, how contemptibly she treats me?--What have I not suffered for her, and even from her!--Ought I to bear being told, that she will despise me, if I value myself above that odious Solmes?
Then she cuts me short in all my ardours. To vow fidelity, is by a cursed turn upon me, to shew, that there is reason, in my own opinion, for doubt of it. The very same reflection upon me once before.*
* See Vol. II. Letter XIII.
In my power, or out of my power, all one to this lady.--So, Belford, my poor vows are crammed down my throat, before they can well rise to my lips. And what can a lover say to his mistress, if she will neither let him lie nor swear?