LETTER XLVIII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 23.
The dear creature desires to be excused seeing me till evening. She isnot very well, as Dorcas tells me.
Read here, if thou wilt, the paper transcribed by Dorcas. It isimpossible that I should proceed with my projects against this admirablewoman, were it not that I am resolved, after a few trials more, if asnobly sustained as those she has passed through, to make her (if shereally hate me not) legally mine.
TO MR. LOVELACE
'When a woman is married, that supreme earthly obligation requires, thatin all instances, where her husband's real honour is concerned, sheshould yield her own will to his. But, beforehand, I could be glad,conformably to what I have always signified, to have the most explicitassurances, that every possible way should be tried to avoid litigationwith my father. Time and patience will subdue all things. My prospectsof happiness are extremely contracted. A husband's right will be alwaysthe same. In my lifetime I could wish nothing to be done of this sort.Your circumstances, Sir, will not oblige you to extort violently from himwhat is in his hands. All that depends upon me, either with regard to myperson, to my diversions, or to the economy that no married woman, ofwhatever rank or quality, should be above inspecting, shall be done, toprevent a necessity for such measures being taken. And if there will beno necessity for them, it is to be hoped that motives less excusable willnot have force--motives which must be founded in a littleness of mind,which a woman, who has not that littleness of mind, will be under suchtemptations, as her duty will hardly be able at all times to check, todespise her husband for having; especially in cases where her own family,so much a part of herself, and which will have obligations upon her(though then but secondary ones) from which she can never be freed, isintimately concerned.
'This article, then, I urge to your most serious consideration, as whatlies next my heart. I enter not here minutely into the fatalmisunderstanding between them and you: the fault may be in both. But,Sir, your's was the foundation-fault: at least, you gave a too-plausiblepretence for my brother's antipathy to work upon. Condescension was nopart of your study. You chose to bear the imputations laid to yourcharge, rather than to make it your endeavour to obviate them.
'But this may lead into hateful recrimination.--Let it be remembered, Iwill only say, in this place, that, in their eye, you have robbed them ofa daughter they doated upon; and that their resentments on this occasionrise but in proportion to their love and their disappointment. If theywere faulty in some of the measures they took, while they themselves didnot think so, who shall judge for them? You, Sir, who will judge everybody as you please, and will let nobody judge you in your own particular,must not be their judge.--It may therefore be expected that they willstand out.
'As for myself, Sir, I must leave it (so seems it to be destined) to yourjustice, to treat me as you shall think I deserve: but, if your futurebehaviour to them is not governed by that harsh-sounding implacableness,which you charge upon some of their tempers, the splendour of yourfamily, and the excellent character of some of them (of all indeed,unless your own conscience furnishes you with one only exception) will,on better consideration, do every thing with them: for they may beovercome; perhaps, however, with the more difficulty, as the greatlyprosperous less bear controul and disappointment than others: for I willown to you, that I have often in secret lamented, that their greatacquirements have been a snare to them; perhaps as great a snare, as someother accidentals have been to you; which being less immediately your owngifts, you have still less reason than they to value yourself upon them.
'Let me only, on this subject, further observe, that condescension is notmeanness. There is a glory in yielding, that hardly any violent spiritcan judge of. My brother, perhaps, is no more sensible of this than you.But as you have talents, which he has not, (who, however, has, as I hope,that regard for morals, the want of which makes one of his objections toyou,) I could wish it may not be owing to you, that your mutual dislikesto each other do not subside! for it is my earnest hope, that in time youmay see each other, without exciting the fears of a wife and a sister forthe consequence. Not that I should wish you to yield in points thattruly concerned your honour: no, Sir; I would be as delicate in such, asyou yourself: more delicate, I will venture to say, because moreuniformly so. How vain, how contemptible, is that pride, which showsitself in standing upon diminutive observances; and gives up, and makes ajest of, the most important duties!
'This article being considered as I wish, all the rest will be easy.Were I to accept of the handsome separate provision you seem to intendme; added to the considerate sums arisen from my grandfather's estatesince his death (more considerable than perhaps you may suppose from youroffer); I should think it my duty to lay up for the family good, and forunforseen events, out of it: for, as to my donations, I would generallyconfine myself in them to the tenth of my income, be it what it would. Iaim at no glare in what I do of that sort. All I wish for, is the powerof relieving the lame, the blind, the sick, and the industrious poor, andthose whom accident has made so, or sudden distress reduced. The commonor bred beggars I leave to others, and to the public provision. Theycannot be lower: perhaps they wish not to be higher: and, not able to dofor every one, I aim not at works of supererogation. Two hundred poundsa year would do all I wish to do of the separate sort: for all above, Iwould content myself to ask you; except, mistrusting your own economy,you would give up to my management and keeping, in order to provide forfuture contingencies, a larger portion; for which, as your steward, Iwould regularly account.
'As to clothes, I have particularly two suits, which, having been only ina manner tried on, would answer for any present occasion. Jewels I haveof my grandmother's, which want only new-setting: another set I have,which on particular days I used to wear. Although these are not sent me,I have no doubt, being merely personals, but they will, when I shouldsend for them in another name: till when I should not choose to wear any.
'As to your complaints of my diffidences, and the like, I appeal to yourown heart, if it be possible for you to make my case your own for onemoment, and to retrospect some parts of your behaviour, words, andactions, whether I am not rather to be justified than censured: andwhether, of all the men in the world, avowing what you avow, you oughtnot to think so. If you do not, let me admonish you, Sir, from the verygreat mismatch that then must appear to be in our minds, never to seek,nor so much as to wish, to bring about the most intimate union ofinterests between yourself and
CLARISSA HARLOWE.MAY 20.'
***
The original of this charming paper, as Dorcas tells me, was torn almostin two. In one of her pets, I suppose! What business have the sex,whose principal glory is meekness, and patience, and resignation, to bein a passion, I trow?--Will not she who allows herself such liberties asa maiden take greater when married?
And a wife to be in a passion!--Let me tell the ladies, it is animpudent thing, begging their pardon, and as imprudent as impudent, for awife to be in a passion, if she mean not eternal separation, or wickeddefiance, by it: For is it not rejecting at once all that expostulatorymeekness, and gentle reasoning, mingled with sighs as gentle, and gracedwith bent knees, supplicating hands, and eyes lifted up to your imperialcountenance, just running over, that you should make a reconciliationspeedy, and as lasting as speedy? Even suppose the husband is in thewrong, will not this being so give the greater force to herexpostulation?
Now I think of it, a man should be in the wrong now-and-then, to make hiswife shine. Miss Howe tells my charmer, that adversity is her shining-time. 'Tis a generous thing in a man to make his wife shine at his ownexpense: to give her leave to triumph over him by patient reasoning: forwere he to be too imperial to acknowledge his fault on the spot, she willfind the benefit of her duty and submission in future, and in the highopinion he will conceive of her prudence and obligingness--and so, bydegrees, she will become her master's master.
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sp; But for a wife to come up with kemboed arm, the other hand thrown out,perhaps with a pointing finger--Look ye here, Sir!--Take notice!--If youare wrong, I'll be wrong!--If you are in a passion, I'll be in a passion!--Rebuff, for rebuff, Sir!--If you fly, I'll tear!--If you swear, I'llcurse!--And the same room, and the same bed, shall not hold us, Sir!-For, remember, I am married, Sir!--I am a wife, Sir!--You can't helpyourself, Sir!--Your honour, as well as your peace, is in my keeping!And, if you like not this treatment, you may have worse, Sir!
Ah! Jack! Jack! What man, who has observed these things, either impliedor expressed, in other families, would wish to be a husband!
Dorcas found this paper in one of the drawers of her lady's dressing-table. She was reperusing it, as she supposes, when the honest wenchcarried my message to desire her to favour me at the tea-table; for shesaw her pop a paper into the drawer as she came in; and there, on hermistress's going to meet me in the dining-room, she found it; and to bethis.
But I had better not to have had a copy of it, as far as I know: for,determined as I was before upon my operations, it instantly turned all myresolutions in her favour. Yet I would give something to be convincedthat she did not pop it into her drawer before the wench, in order for meto see it; and perhaps (if I were to take notice of it) to discoverwhether Dorcas, according to Miss Howe's advice, were most my friend, orher's.
The very suspicion of this will do her no good: for I cannot bear to beartfully dealt with. People love to enjoy their own peculiar talents inmonopoly, as arguments against me in her behalf. But I know every tittlethou canst say upon it. Spare therefore thy wambling nonsense, I desirethee; and leave this sweet excellence and me to our fate: that willdetermine for us, as it shall please itself: for as Cowley says,
An unseen hand makes all our moves: And some are great, and some are small; Some climb to good, some from great fortunes fall: Some wise men, and some fools we call: Figures, alas! of speech!--For destiny plays us all.
But, after all, I am sorry, almost sorry (for how shall I do to be quitesorry, when it is not given to me to be so?) that I cannot, until I havemade further trials, resolve upon wedlock.
I have just read over again this intended answer to my proposals: and howI adore her for it!
But yet; another yet!--She has not given it or sent it to me.--It is nottherefore her answer. It is not written for me, though to me.
Nay, she has not intended to send it to me: she has even torn it, perhapswith indignation, as thinking it too good for me. By this action sheabsolutely retracts it. Why then does my foolish fondness seek toestablish for her the same merit in my heart, as if she avowed it?Pr'ythee, dear Belford, once more, leave us to our fate; and do not thouinterpose with thy nonsense, to weaken a spirit already too squeamish,and strengthen a conscience that has declared itself of her party.
Then again, remember thy recent discoveries, Lovelace! Remember herindifference, attended with all the appearance of contempt and hatred.View her, even now, wrapt up in reserve and mystery; meditating plots, asfar as thou knowest, against the sovereignty thou hast, by right ofconquest, obtained over her. Remember, in short, all thou hastthreatened to remember against this insolent beauty, who is a rebel tothe power she has listed under.
But yet, how dost thou propose to subdue thy sweet enemy!--Abhorred beforce, be the necessity of force, if that can be avoided! There is notriumph in force--no conquest over the will--no prevailing by gentledegrees over the gentle passions!--force is the devil!
My cursed character, as I have often said, was against me at setting out--Yet is she not a woman? Cannot I find one yielding or but half-yielding moment, if she do not absolutely hate me?
But with what can I tempt her?--RICHES she was born to, and despises,knowing what they are. JEWELS and ornaments, to a mind so much a jewel,and so richly set, her worthy consciousness will not let her value. LOVE--if she be susceptible of love, it seems to be so much under thedirection of prudence, that one unguarded moment, I fear, cannot bereasonably hoped for: and so much VIGILANCE, so much apprehensiveness,that her fears are ever aforehand with her dangers. Then her LOVE orVIRTUE seems to be principle, native principle, or, if not native, sodeeply rooted, that its fibres have struck into her heart, and, as shegrew up, so blended and twisted themselves with the strings of life, thatI doubt there is no separating of the one without cutting the othersasunder.
What then can be done to make such a matchless creature get over thefirst tests, in order to put her to the grand proof, whether onceovercome, she will not be always overcome?
Our mother and her nymphs say, I am a perfect Craven, and no Lovelace:and so I think. But this is no simpering, smiling charmer, as I havefound others to be, when I have touched upon affecting subjects at adistance; as once or twice I have tried to her, the mother introducingthem (to make sex palliate the freedom to sex) when only we threetogether. She is above the affectation of not seeming to understand you.She shows by her displeasure, and a fierceness not natural to her eye,that she judges of an impure heart by an impure mouth, and darts dead atonce even the embryo hopes of an encroaching lover, however distantlyinsinuated, before the meaning hint can dawn into double entendre.
By my faith, Jack, as I sit gazing upon her, my whole soul in my eyes,contemplating her perfections, and thinking, when I have seen her easyand serene, what would be her thoughts, did she know my heart as well asI know it; when I behold her disturbed and jealous, and think of thejustness of her apprehensions, and that she cannot fear so much as thereis room for her to fear; my heart often misgives me.
And must, think I, O creature so divinely excellent, and so beloved of mysoul, those arms, those encircling arms, that would make a monarch happy,be used to repel brutal force; all their strength, unavailingly perhaps,exerted to repel it, and to defend a person so delicately framed? Canviolence enter into the heart of a wretch, who might entitle himself toall her willing yet virtuous love, and make the blessings he aspirethafter, her duty to confer?--Begone, villain-purposes! Sink ye all to thehell that could only inspire ye! And I am then ready to throw myself ather feet, to confess my villainous designs, to avow my repentance, andput it out of my power to act unworthily by such an excellence.
How then comes it, that all these compassionate, and, as some would callthem, honest sensibilities go off!--Why, Miss Howe will tell thee: shesays, I am the devil.--By my conscience, I think he has at present agreat share in me.
There's ingenuousness!--How I lay myself open to thee!--But seest thou not,that the more I say against myself, the less room there is for theeto take me to task?--O Belford, Belford! I cannot, cannot (at least atpresent) I cannot marry.
Then her family, my bitter enemies--to supple to them, or if I do not, tomake her as unhappy as she can be from my attempts----
Then does she not love them too much, me too little?
She now seems to despise me: Miss Howe declares, that she really doesdespise me. To be despised by a WIFE--What a thought is that!--To beexcelled by a WIFE too, in every part of praise-worthy knowledge!--Totake lessons, to take instructions, from a WIFE!--More than despise me,she herself has taken time to consider whether she does not hate me:--I hate you, Lovelace, with my whole heart, said she to me but yesterday!My soul is above thee, man!--Urge me not to tell thee how sincerely Ithink my soul above thee!--How poor indeed was I then, even in my ownheart!--So visible a superiority, to so proud a spirit as mine!--And herefrom below, from BELOW indeed! from these women! I am so goaded on----
Yet 'tis poor too, to think myself a machine in the hands of suchwretches.--I am no machine.--Lovelace, thou art base to thyself, but tosuppose thyself a machine.
But having gone thus far, I should be unhappy, if after marriage, in thepetulance of ill humour, I had it to reproach myself, that I did not tryher to the utmost. And yet I don't know how it is, but this lady, themoment I come into her presence, half-assimilates me to her own virtue.--Once or twice (to say nothing of her triumph ov
er me on Sunday night) Iwas prevailed upon to fluster myself, with an intention to make someadvances, which, if obliged to recede, I might lay upon raised spirits:but the instant I beheld her, I was soberized into awe and reverence: andthe majesty of her even visible purity first damped, and then extinguished,my double flame.
What a surprisingly powerful effect, so much and so long in my power she!so instigated by some of her own sex, and so stimulated by passion I!--How can this be accounted for in a Lovelace!
But what a heap of stuff have I written!--How have I been run away with!--By what?--Canst thou say by what?--O thou lurking varletess CONSCIENCE!--Is it thou that hast thus made me of party against myself?--How camestthou in?--In what disguise, thou egregious haunter of my more agreeablehours?--Stand thou, with fate, but neuter in this controversy; and, if Icannot do credit to human nature, and to the female sex, by bringing downsuch an angel as this to class with and adorn it, (for adorn it she doesin her very foibles,) then I am all your's, and never will resist youmore.
Here I arose. I shook myself. The window was open. Always thetroublesome bosom-visiter, the intruder, is flown.--I see it yet!--Andnow it lessens to my aching eye!--And now the cleft air is closed after it,and it is out of sight!--and once more I am
ROBERT LOVELACE.
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 50
