LETTER XXXVIII
MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.SATURDAY, MAY 20.
Not one word will I reply to such an abandoned wretch, as thou hast shewnthyself to be in thine of last night. I will leave the lady to theprotection of that Power who only can work miracles; and to her ownmerits. Still I have hopes that these will save her.
I will proceed, as thou desirest, to poor Belton's case; and the rather,as it has thrown me into such a train of thinking upon our past lives,our present courses, and our future views, as may be of service to usboth, if I can give due weight to the reflections that arise from it.
The poor man made me a visit on Thursday, in this my melancholyattendance. He began with complaints of his ill health and spirits, hishectic cough, and his increased malady of spitting blood; and then led tohis story.
A confounded one it is; and which highly aggravates his other maladies:for it has come out, that his Thomasine, (who, truly, would be newchristened, you know, that her name might be nearer in sound to thechristian name of the man whom she pretended to doat upon) has for manyyears carried on an intrigue with a fellow who had been hostler to herfather (an innkeeper at Darking); of whom, at the expense of poor Belton,she has made a gentleman; and managed it so, that having the art to makeherself his cashier, she has been unable to account for large sums, whichhe thought forthcoming at demand, and had trusted to her custody, inorder to pay off a mortgage upon his parental estate in Kent, which hisheart has run upon leaving clear, but which now cannot be done, and willsoon be foreclosed. And yet she has so long passed for his wife, that heknows not what to resolve upon about her; nor about the two boys he wasso fond of, supposing them to be his; whereas now he begins to doubt hisshare in them.
So KEEPING don't do, Lovelace. 'Tis not the eligible wife. 'A man mustkeep a woman, said the poor fellow to me, but not his estate!--Twointerests!--Then, my tottering fabric!' pointing to his emaciatedcarcass.
We do well to value ourselves upon our liberty, or to speak moreproperly, upon the liberties we take. We had need to run down matrimonyas we do, and to make that state the subject of our frothy jests; when wefrequently render ourselves (for this of Tom's is not a singular case)the dupes and tools of women who generally govern us (by arts our wiseheads penetrate not) more absolutely than a wife would attempt to do.
Let us consider this point a little; and that upon our own principles, aslibertines, setting aside what is exacted from us by the laws of ourcountry, and its customs; which, nevertheless, we cannot get over, tillwe have got over almost all moral obligations, as members of society.
In the first place, let us consider (we, who are in possession of estatesby legal descent) how we should have liked to have been such nakeddestitute varlets, as we must have been, had our fathers been as wise asourselves; and despised matrimony as we do--and then let us askourselves, If we ought not to have the same regard for our posterity, aswe are glad our fathers had for theirs?
But this, perhaps, is too moral a consideration.--To proceed therefore tothose considerations which will be more striking to us: How can wereasonably expect economy or frugality (or anything indeed but riot andwaste) from creatures who have an interest, and must therefore haveviews, different from our own?
They know the uncertain tenure (our fickle humours) by which they hold:And is it to be wondered at, supposing them to be provident harlots, thatthey should endeavour, if they have the power, to lay up against a rainyday? or, if they have not the power, that they should squander all theycan come at, when they are sure of nothing but the present hour; and whenthe life they live, and the sacrifices they have made, put conscience andhonour out of the question?
Whereas a wife, having the same family-interest with her husband, liesnot under either the same apprehensions or temptations; and has notbroken through (of necessity, at least, has not) those restraints whicheducation has fastened upon her: and if she makes a private purse, whichwe are told by anti-matrimonialists, all wives love to do, and haschildren, it goes all into the same family at the long-run.
Then as to the great article of fidelity to your bed--Are not women offamily, who are well-educated, under greater restraints, than creatures,who, if they ever had reputation, sacrifice it to sordid interest, or tomore sordid appetite, the moment they give it up to you? Does not theexample you furnish, of having succeeded with her, give encouragementfor others to attempt her likewise? For with all her blandishments, canany man be so credulous, or so vain, as to believe, that the woman hecould persuade, another may not prevail upon?
Adultery is so capital a guilt, that even rakes and libertines, if notwholly abandoned, and as I may say, invited by a woman's levity, disavowand condemn it: but here, in a state of KEEPING, a woman is in no dangerof incurring (legally, at least) that guilt; and you yourself have brokenthrough and overthrown in her all the fences and boundaries of moralhonesty, and the modesty and reserves of her sex: And what tie shall holdher against inclination, or interest? And what shall deter an attempter?
While a husband has this security from legal sanctions, that if his wifebe detected in a criminal conversation with a man of fortune, (the mostlikely by bribes to seduce her,) he may recover very great damages, andprocure a divorce besides: which, to say nothing of the ignominy, is aconsideration that must have some force upon both parties. And a wifemust be vicious indeed, and a reflection upon a man's own choice, who,for the sake of change, and where there are no qualities to seduce, noraffluence to corrupt, will run so many hazards to injure her husband inthe tenderest of all points.
But there are difficulties in procuring a divorce--[and so there ought]--and none, says the rake, in parting with a mistress whenever you suspecther; or whenever you are weary of her, and have a mind to change her foranother.
But must not the man be a brute indeed, who can cast off a woman whom hehas seduced, [if he take her from the town, that's another thing,]without some flagrant reason; something that will better justify him tohimself, as well as to her, and to the world, than mere power andnovelty?
But I don't see, if we judge by fact, and by the practice of all we havebeen acquainted with of the keeping-class, that we know how to part withthem when we have them.
That we know we can if we will, is all we have for it: and this leads usto bear many things from a mistress, which we would not from a wife.But, if we are good-natured and humane: if the woman has art: [and whatwoman wants it, who has fallen by art? and to whose precarious situationart is so necessary?] if you have given her the credit of being called byyour name: if you have a settled place of abode, and have received andpaid visits in her company, as your wife: if she has brought you children--you will allow that these are strong obligations upon you in theworld's eye, as well as to your own heart, against tearing yourself fromsuch close connections. She will stick to you as your skin: and it willbe next to flaying yourself to cast her off.
Even if there be cause for it, by infidelity, she will have managed ill,if she have not her defenders. Nor did I ever know a cause or a personso bad, as to want advocates, either from ill-will to the one, or pity tothe other: and you will then be thought a hard-hearted miscreant: andeven were she to go off without credit to herself, she will leave you aslittle; especially with all those whose good opinion a man would wish tocultivate.
Well, then, shall this poor privilege, that we may part with a woman ifwe will, be deemed a balance for the other inconveniencies? Shall it bethought by us, who are men of family and fortune, an equivalent forgiving up equality of degree; and taking for the partner of our bed, andvery probably more than the partner in our estates, (to the breach of allfamily-rule and order,) a low-born, a low-educated creature, who has notbrought any thing into the common stock; and can possibly make no returnsfor the solid benefits she receives, but those libidinous ones, which aman cannot boast of, but to his disgrace, nor think of, but to the shameof both?
Moreover, as the man advances in years, the fury of his libertinism willgo off. He will hav
e different aims and pursuits, which will diminishhis appetite to ranging, and make such a regular life as the matrimonialand family life, palatable to him, and every day more palatable.
If he has children, and has reason to think them his, and if his lewdcourses have left him any estate, he will have cause to regret therestraint his boasted liberty has laid him under, and the valuableprivilege it has deprived him of; when he finds that it must descend tosome relation, for whom, whether near or distant, he cares not onefarthing; and who perhaps (if a man of virtue) has held him in theutmost contempt for his dissolute life.
And were we to suppose his estate in his power to bequeath as he pleases;why should a man resolve, for the gratifying of his foolish humour only,to bastardize his race? Why should he wish to expose his children to thescorn and insults of the rest of the world? Why should he, whether theyare sons or daughters, lay them under the necessity of complying withproposals of marriage, either inferior as to fortune, or unequal as toage? Why should he deprive the children he loves, who themselves may beguilty of no fault, of the respect they would wish to have, and todeserve; and of the opportunity of associating themselves with proper,that is to say, with reputable company? and why should he make them thinkthemselves under obligation to every person of character, who willvouchsafe to visit them? What little reason, in a word, would suchchildren have to bless their father's obstinate defiance of the laws andcustoms of his country; and for giving them a mother, of whom they couldnot think with honour; to whose crime it was that they owed their verybeings, and whose example it was their duty to shun?
If the education and morals of these children are left to chance, as toogenerally they are, (for the man who has humanity and a feeling heart,and who is capable of fondness for his offspring, I take it for grantedwill marry,) the case is still worse; his crime is perpetuated, as I maysay, by his children: and the sea, the army, perhaps the highway, for theboys; the common for the girls; too often point out the way to a worsecatastrophe.
What therefore, upon the whole, do we get by treading in these crookedpaths, but danger, disgrace, and a too-late repentance?
And after all, do we not frequently become the cullies of our ownlibertinism; sliding into the very state with those half-worn-out doxies,which perhaps we might have entered into with their ladies; at least withtheir superiors both in degree and fortune? and all the time livedhandsomely like ourselves; not sneaking into holes and corners; and, whenwe crept abroad with our women, looking about us, and at ever one thatpassed us, as if we were confessedly accountable to the censures of allhonest people.
My cousin Tony Jenyns, thou knewest. He had not the actively mischievousspirit, that thou, Belton, Mowbray, Tourville, and myself, have: but heimbibed the same notions we do, and carried them into practice.
How did he prate against wedlock! how did he strut about as a wit and asmart! and what a wit and a smart did all the boys and girls of ourfamily (myself among the rest, then an urchin) think him, for the airs hegave himself?--Marry! No, not for the world; what man of sense wouldbear the insolences, the petulances, the expensiveness of a wife! Hecould not for the heart of him think it tolerable, that a woman of equalrank and fortune, and, as it might happen, superior talents to his own,should look upon herself to have a right to share the benefit of thatfortune which she brought him.
So, after he had fluttered about the town for two or three years, in allwhich time he had a better opinion of himself than any body else had,what does he do, but enter upon an affair with his fencing-master'sdaughter?
He succeeds; takes private lodgings for her at Hackney; visits her bystealth; both of them tender of reputations that were extremely tender,but which neither had quite given up; for rakes of either sex are alwaysthe last to condemn or cry down themselves: visited by nobody, norvisiting: the life of a thief, or of a man bested by creditors, afraid tolook out of his own house, or to be seen abroad with her. And thus wenton for twelve years, and, though he had a good estate, hardly making bothends meet; for though no glare, there was no economy; and, beside, he hadever year a child, and very fond of his children was he. But none ofthem lived above three years. And being now, on the death of thedozenth, grown as dully sober, as if he had been a real husband, his goodMrs. Thomas (for he had not permitted her to take his own name) prevailedupon him to think the loss of their children a judgment upon the parentsfor their wicked way of life; [a time will come, Lovelace, if we live toadvanced years, in which reflection will take hold of the enfeebledmind;] and then it was not difficult for his woman to induce him, by wayof compounding with Heaven, to marry her. When this was done, he hadleisure to sit down, and contemplate; an to recollect the many offers ofpersons of family and fortune to which he had declined in the prime oflife: his expenses equal at least: his reputation not only less, butlost: his enjoyments stolen: his partnership unequal, and such as he hadalways been ashamed of. But the woman said, that after twelve orthirteen years' cohabitation, Tony did an honest thing by her. And thatwas all my poor cousin got by making his old mistress his new wife--not adrum, not a trumpet, not a fife, not a tabret, nor the expectation of anew joy, to animate him on!
What Belton will do with his Thomasine I know not! nor care I to advisehim: for I see the poor fellow does not like that any body should curseher but himself. This he does very heartily. And so low is he reduced,that he blubbers over the reflection upon his past fondness for her cubs,and upon his present doubts of their being his: 'What a damn'd thing isit, Belford, if Tom and Hal should be the hostler dog's puppies and notmine!'
Very true! and I think the strong health of the chubby-faced muscularwhelps confirms the too great probability.
But I say not so to him.
You, he says, are such a gay, lively mortal, that this sad tale wouldmake no impression upon you: especially now, that your whole heart isengaged as it is. Mowbray would be too violent upon it: he has not, hesays, a feeling heart. Tourville has no discretion: and, a pretty jest!although he and his Thomasine lived without reputation in the world,(people guessing that they were not married, notwithstanding she went byhis name,) yet 'he would not too much discredit the cursed ingrateneither!'
Could a man act a weaker part, had he been really married; and were hesure he was going to separate from the mother of his own children?
I leave this as a lesson upon thy heart, without making any application:only with this remark, 'That after we libertines have indulged ourlicentious appetites, reflecting, (in the conceit of our vain hearts,)both with our lips and by our lives, upon our ancestors and the good oldways, we find out, when we come to years of discretion, if we live tillthen (what all who knew us found out before, that is to say, we foundout), our own despicable folly; that those good old ways would have beenbest for us, as well as for the rest of the world; and that in every stepwe have deviated from them we have only exposed our vanity and ourignorance at the same time.'
J. BELFORD.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 40
