[Four letters are written by Mr. Lovelace from the date of his last, giving the state of affairs between him and the Lady, pretty much the same as in hers in the same period, allowing for the humour in his, and for his resentments expressed with vehemence on her resolution to leave him, if her friends could be brought to be reconciled to her.-- A few extracts from them will be only given.]
What, says he, might have become of me, and of my projects, had not herfather, and the rest of the implacables, stood my friends?
[After violent threatenings of revenge, he says,]
'Tis plain she would have given me up for ever: nor should I have beenable to prevent her abandoning of me, unless I had torn up the tree bythe roots to come at the fruit; which I hope still to bring down by agentle shake or two, if I can but have patience to stay the ripeningseasoning.
[Thus triumphing in his unpolite cruelty, he says,]
After her haughty treatment of me, I am resolved she shall speak out.There are a thousand beauties to be discovered in the face, in theaccent, in the bush-beating hesitations of a woman who is earnest about asubject she wants to introduce, yet knows not how. Silly fellows,calling themselves generous ones, would value themselves for sparing alady's confusion: but they are silly fellows indeed; and rob themselvesof prodigious pleasure by their forwardness; and at the same time depriveher of displaying a world of charms, which can only be manifested onthese occasions.
I'll tell thee beforehand, how it will be with my charmer in this case--she will be about it, and about it, several times: but I will notunderstand her: at least, after half a dozen hem--ings, she will beobliged to speak out--I think, Mr. Lovelace--I think, Sir--I think youwere saying some days ago--Still I will be all silence--her eyes fixedupon my shoe-buckles, as I sit over-against her--ladies when put to itthus, always admire a man's shoe-buckles, or perhaps some particularbeauties in the carpet. I think you said that Mrs. Fretchville--Then acrystal tear trickles down each crimson cheek, vexed to have her virginpride so little assisted. But, come, my meaning dear, cry I to myself,remember what I have suffered for thee, and what I have suffered by thee!Thy tearful pausings shall not be helped out by me. Speak out, love!--Othe sweet confusion! Can I rob myself of so many conflicting beauties bythe precipitate charmer-pitying folly, by which a politer man [thouknowest, lovely, that I am no polite man!] betrayed by his owntenderness, and unused to female tears, would have been overcome? I willfeign an irresolution of mind on the occasion, that she may not quiteabhor me--that her reflections on the scene in my absence may bring toher remembrance some beauties in my part of it: an irresolution thatwill be owing to awe, to reverence, to profound veneration; and that willhave more eloquence in it than words can have. Speak out then, love, andspare not.
Hard-heartedness, as it is called, is an essential of the libertine'scharacter. Familiarized to the distresses he occasions, he is seldombetrayed by tenderness into a complaisant weakness unworthy of himself.
[Mentioning the settlements, he says,]
I am in earnest as to the terms. If I marry her, [and I have no doubtthat I shall, after my pride, my ambition, my revenge, if thou wilt, isgratified,] I will do her noble justice. The more I do for such aprudent, such an excellent economist, the more shall I do for myself.--But, by my soul, Belford, her haughtiness shall be brought down to ownboth love and obligation to me. Nor will this sketch of settlementsbring us forwarder than I would have it. Modesty of sex will stand myfriend at any time. At the very altar, our hands joined, I will engageto make this proud beauty leave the parson and me, and all my friends whoshould be present, though twenty in number, to look like fools upon oneanother, while she took wing, and flew out of the church door, or window,(if that were open, and the door shut); and this only by a single word.
[He mentions his rash expression, That she should be his, although his damnation was to be the purchase.]
At that instant, says he, I was upon the point of making a violentattempt, but was checked in the very moment, and but just in time to savemyself, by the awe I was struck with on again casting my eye upon herterrified but lovely face, and seeing, as I thought, her spotless heartin every line of it.
O virtue, virtue! proceeds he, what is there in thee, that can thusagainst his will affect the heart of a Lovelace!--Whence theseinvoluntary tremors, and fear of giving mortal offence?--What art thou,that acting in the breast of a feeble woman, which never before, no, notin my first attempt, young as I then was, and frightened at my ownboldness (till I found myself forgiven,) had such an effect upon me!
[He paints in lively colours, that part of the scene between him and the Lady, where she says, The word father has a sweet and venerable sound with it.]
I was exceedingly affected, says he, upon the occasion, but was ashamedto be surprised into such a fit of unmanly weakness--so ashamed, that Iwas resolved to subdue it at the instant, and to guard against the likefor the future. Yet, at that moment, I more than half regretted that Icould not permit her to enjoy a triumph which she so well deserved toglory in--her youth, her beauty, her artless innocence, and her manner,equally beyond comparison or description. But her indifference, Belford!--That she could resolve to sacrifice me to the malice of my enemies; andcarry on the design in so clandestine a manner--and yet love her, as Ido, to phrensy!--revere her, as I do, to adoration!--These were therecollections with which I fortified my recreant heart against her!--Yet,after all, if she persevere, she must conquer!--Coward, as she has mademe, that never was a coward before!
[He concludes his fourth letter in a vehement rage, upon her repulsing him, when he offered to salute her; having supposed, as he owns, that she would have been all condescension on his proposals to her.]
This, says he, I will for ever remember against her, in order to steel myheart, that I may cut through a rock of ice to hers; and repay her forthe disdain, the scorn, which glowed in her countenance, and was apparentin her air, at her abrupt departure for me, after such obliging behaviouron my side, and after I had so earnestly pressed her for an early day.The women below say she hates me; she despises me!--And 'tis true: shedoes; she must.--And why cannot I take their advice? I will not long,my fair-one, be despised by thee, and laughed at by them!
Let me acquaint thee, Jack, adds he, by way of postscript, that thiseffort of hers to leave me, if she could have been received; her sendingfor a coach on Sunday; no doubt, resolving not to return, if she had goneout without me, (for did she not declare that she had thoughts to retireto some of the villages about town, where she could be safe and private?)have, all together, so much alarmed me, that I have been adding to thewritten instructions for my fellow and the people below how to act incase she should elope in my absence: particularly letting Will. know whathe shall report to strangers in case she shall throw herself upon anysuch with a resolution to abandon me. To these instructions I shallfurther add as circumstances offer.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 35
