LETTER III
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.FRIDAY, JULY 7.
I have three of thy letters at once before me to answer; in each of whichthou complainest of my silence; and in one of them tallest me, that thoucanst not live without I scribble to thee every day, or every other dayat least.
Why, then, die, Jack, if thou wilt. What heart, thinkest thou, can Ihave to write, when I have lost the only subject worth writing upon?
Help me again to my angel, to my CLARISSA; and thou shalt have a letterfrom me, or writing at least part of a letter, every hour. All that thecharmer of my heart shall say, that will I put down. Every motion, everyair of her beloved person, every look, will I try to describe; and whenshe is silent, I will endeavour to tell thee her thoughts, either whatthey are, or what I would have them to be--so that, having her, I shallnever want a subject. Having lost her, my whole soul is a blank: thewhole creation round me, the elements above, beneath, and every thing Ibehold, (for nothing can I enjoy,) are a blank without her.
Oh! return, return, thou only charmer of my soul! return to thy adoringLovelace! What is the light, what the air, what the town, what thecountry, what's any thing, without thee? Light, air, joy, harmony, in mynotion, are but parts of thee; and could they be all expressed in oneword, that word would be CLARISSA.
O my beloved CLARISSA, return thou then; once more return to bless thyLOVELACE, who now, by the loss of thee, knows the value of the jewel hehas slighted; and rises every morning but to curse the sun that shinesupon every body but him!
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Well, but, Jack, 'tis a surprising thing to me, that the dear fugitivecannot be met with; cannot be heard of. She is so poor a plotter, (forplotting is not her talent,) that I am confident, had I been at liberty,I should have found her out before now; although the different emissariesI have employed about town, round the adjacent villages, and in MissHowe's vicinage, have hitherto failed of success. But my Lord continuesso weak and low-spirited, that there is no getting from him. I would notdisoblige a man whom I think in danger still: for would his gout, now ithas got him down, but give him, like a fair boxer, the rising-blow, allwould be over with him. And here [pox of his fondness for me! it happensat a very bad time] he makes me sit hours together entertaining him withmy rogueries: (a pretty amusement for a sick man!) and yet, whenever hehas the gout, he prays night and morning with his chaplain. But whatmust his notions of religion be, who after he has nosed and mumbled overhis responses, can give a sigh or groan of satisfaction, as if he thoughthe had made up with Heaven; and return with a new appetite to my stories?--encouraging them, by shaking his sides with laughing at them, andcalling me a sad fellow, in such an accent as shows he takes no smalldelight in his kinsman.
The old peer has been a sinner in his day, and suffers for it now: asneaking sinner, sliding, rather than rushing into vices, for fear of hisreputation.--Paying for what he never had, and never daring to rise tothe joy of an enterprise at first hand, which could bring him within viewof a tilting, or of the honour of being considered as a principal man ina court of justice.
To see such an old Trojan as this, just dropping into the grave, which Ihoped ere this would have been dug, and filled up with him; crying outwith pain, and grunting with weakness; yet in the same moment crack hisleathern face into an horrible laugh, and call a young sinner charmingvarlet, encoreing him, as formerly he used to do to the Italian eunuchs;what a preposterous, what an unnatural adherence to old habits!
My two cousins are generally present when I entertain, as the old peercalls it. Those stories must drag horribly, that have not more hearersand applauders than relaters.
Applauders!
Ay, Belford, applauders, repeat I; for although these girls pretend toblame me sometimes for the facts, they praise my manner, my invention, myintrepidity.--Besides, what other people call blame, that call I praise:I ever did; and so I very early discharged shame, that cold-water damperto an enterprising spirit.
These are smart girls; they have life and wit; and yesterday, uponCharlotte's raving against me upon a related enterprise, I told her, thatI had had in debate several times, whether she were or were not too nearof kin to me: and that it was once a moot point with me, whether I couldnot love her dearly for a month or so: and perhaps it was well for her,that another pretty little puss started up, and diverted me, just as Iwas entering upon the course.
They all three held up their hands and eyes at once. But I observedthat, though the girls exclaimed against me, they were not so angry atthis plain speaking as I have found my beloved upon hints so dark thatI have wondered at her quick apprehension.
I told Charlotte, that, grave as she pretended to be in her smilingresentments on this declaration, I was sure I should not have been put tothe expense of above two or three stratagems, (for nobody admired a goodinvention more than she,) could I but have disentangled her consciencefrom the embarrasses of consanguinity.
She pretended to be highly displeased: so did her sister for her. I toldher, she seemed as much in earnest as if she had thought me so; and daredthe trial. Plain words, I said, in these cases, were more shocking totheir sex than gradatim actions. And I bid Patty not be displeased at mydistinguishing her sister; since I had a great respect for her likewise.
An Italian air, in my usual careless way, a half-struggled-for kiss fromme, and a shrug of the shoulder, by way of admiration, from each prettycousin, and sad, sad fellow, from the old peer, attended with aside-shaking laugh, made us all friends.
There, Jack!--Wilt thou, or wilt thou not, take this for a letter?there's quantity, I am sure.--How have I filled a sheet (not a short-handone indeed) without a subject! My fellow shall take this; for he isgoing to town. And if thou canst think tolerably of such execrablestuff, I will send thee another.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7 Page 4
