LETTER LIV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
And now, that my beloved seems secure in my net, for my project upon thevixen Miss Howe, and upon her mother: in which the officious prancerHickman is to come in for a dash.
But why upon her mother, methinks thou askest, who, unknown to herself,has only acted, by the impulse, through thy agent Joseph Leman, upon thefolly of old Tony the uncle?
No matter for that: she believes she acts upon her own judgment: anddeserves to be punished for pretending to judgment, when she has none.--Every living soul, but myself, I can tell thee, shall be punished, thattreats either cruelly or disrespectfully so adored a lady.--What aplague! is it not enough that she is teased and tormented in person byme?
I have already broken the matter to our three confederates; as asupposed, not a resolved-on case indeed. And yet they know, that withme, in a piece of mischief, execution, with its swiftest feel, is seldomthree paces behind projection, which hardly ever limps neither.
MOWBRAY is not against it. It is a scheme, he says, worthy of us: and wehave not done any thing for a good while that has made a noise.
BELTON, indeed, hesitates a little, because matters go wrong between himand his Thomasine; and the poor fellow has not the courage to have hissore place probed to the bottom.
TOURVILLE has started a fresh game, and shrugs his shoulders, and shouldnot choose to go abroad at present, if I please. For I apprehend that(from the nature of the project) there will be a kind of necessity totravel, till all is blown over.
To ME, one country is as good as another; and I shall soon, I suppose,choose to quit this paltry island; except the mistress of my fate willconsent to cohabit at home; and so lay me under no necessity ofsurprising her into foreign parts. TRAVELLING, thou knowest, gives thesexes charming opportunities of being familiar with one another. A veryfew days and nights must now decide all matters betwixt me and my fairinimitable.
DOLEMAN, who can act in these causes only as chamber-counsel, will informus by pen and ink [his right hand and right side having not yet beenstruck, and the other side beginning to be sensible] of all that shalloccur in our absence.
As for THEE, we had rather have thy company than not; for, although thouart a wretched fellow at contrivance, yet art thou intrepid at execution.But as thy present engagements make thy attendance uncertain, I am notfor making thy part necessary to our scheme; but for leaving thee to comeafter us when abroad. I know thou canst not long live without us.
The project, in short, is this:--Mrs. Howe has an elder sister in theIsle of Wight, who is lately a widow; and I am well informed, that themother and daughter have engaged, before the latter is married, to pay avisit to this lady, who is rich, and intends Miss for her heiress; and inthe interim will make her some valuable presents on her approachingnuptials; which, as Mrs. Howe, who loves money more than any thing butherself, told one of my acquaintance, would be worth fetching.
Now, Jack, nothing more need be done, than to hire a little trim vessel,which shall sail a pleasuring backward and forward to Portsmouth, Spithead,and the Isle of Wight, for a week or fortnight before we enterupon our parts of the plot. And as Mrs. Howe will be for making the bestbargain she can for her passage, the master of the vessel may have orders(as a perquisite allowed him by his owners) to take what she will give:and the master's name, be it what it will, shall be Ganmore on theoccasion; for I know a rogue of that name, who is not obliged to be ofany country, any more than we.
Well, then, we will imagine them on board. I will be there in disguise.They know not any of ye four--supposing (the scheme so inviting) thatthou canst be one.
'Tis plaguy hard, if we cannot find, or make a storm.
Perhaps they will be sea-sick: but whether they be or not, no doubt theywill keep their cabin.
Here will be Mrs. Howe, Miss Howe, Mr. Hickman, a maid, and a footman, Isuppose: and thus we will order it.
I know it will be hard weather: I know it will: and, before there can bethe least suspicion of the matter, we shall be in sight of Guernsey,Jersey, Dieppe, Cherbourg, or any where on the French coast that it shallplease us to agree with the winds to blow us: and then, securing thefootman, and the women being separated, one of us, according to lots thatmay be cast, shall overcome, either by persuasion or force, the maidservant: that will be no hard task; and she is a likely wench, [I haveseen her often:] one, Mrs. Howe; nor can there be much difficulty there;for she is full of health and life, and has been long a widow: another,[that, says the princely lion, must be I!] the saucy daughter; who willbe much too frightened to make great resistance, [violent spirits, inthat sex, are seldom true spirits--'tis but where they can:] and afterbeating about the coast for three or four days for recreation's sake, andto make sure work, till we see our sullen birds begin to eat and sip, wewill set them all ashore where it will be most convenient; sell thevessel, [to Mrs. Townsend's agents, with all my heart, or to some othersmugglers,] or give it to Ganmore; and pursue our travels, and tarryabroad till all is hushed up.
Now I know thou wilt make difficulties, as it is thy way; while it ismine to conquer them. My other vassals made theirs; and I condescendedto obviate them: as thus I will thine, first stating them for theeaccording to what I know of thy phlegm.
What, in the first place, wilt thou ask, shall be done with Hickman? whowill be in full parade of dress and primness, in order to show the oldaunt what a devilish clever fellow of a nephew she is to have.
What!--I'll tell thee--Hickman, in good manners, will leave the women intheir cabin--and, to show his courage with his breeding, be upon deck--
Well, and suppose he is!--Why then I hope it is easy for Ganmore, or anybody else, myself suppose in my pea-jacket and great watch coat, (if anyother make scruple to do it), while he stands in the way, gaping andstaring like a novice, to stumble against him, and push him overboard!--A rich thought--is it not, Belford?--He is certainly plaguy officiousin the ladies' correspondence; and I am informed, plays double betweenmother and daughter, in fear of both.--Dost not see him, Jack?--I do--popping up and down, his wig and hat floating by him; and paddling,pawing, and dashing, like a frighted mongrel--I am afraid he neverventured to learn to swim.
But thou wilt not drown the poor fellow; wilt thou?
No, no!--that is not necessary to the project--I hate to do mischiefssupererogatory. The skiff shall be ready to save him, while the vesselkeeps its course: he shall be set on shore with the loss of wig and hatonly, and of half his little wits, at the place where he embarked, or anywhere else.
Well, but shall we not be in danger of being hanged for three suchenormous rapes, although Hickman should escape with only a bellyful ofsea-water?
Yes, to be sure, when caught--But is there any likelihood of that?--Besides, have we not been in danger before now for worse facts? and whatis there in being only in danger?--If we actually were to appear in openday in England before matters are made up, there will be greaterlikelihood that these women will not prosecute that they will.--For myown part, I should wish they may. Would not a brave fellow choose toappear in court to such an arraignment, confronting women who would docredit to his attempt? The country is more merciful in these cases, thanin any others: I should therefore like to put myself upon my country.
Let me indulge in a few reflections upon what thou mayest think the worstthat can happen. I will suppose that thou art one of us; and that allfive are actually brought to trial on this occasion: how bravely shall weenter a court, I at the head of you, dressed out each man, as if to hiswedding appearance!--You are sure of all the women, old and young, ofyour side.--What brave fellows!--what fine gentlemen!--There goes acharming handsome man!--meaning me, to be sure!--who could find in theirhearts to hang such a gentleman as that? whispers one lady, sittingperhaps on the right hand of the recorder: [I suppose the scene to be inLondon:] while another disbelieves that any woman could fairly swearagainst me. All will crowd after me: it will be each man's happiness (ifye shall chance
to be bashful) to be neglected: I shall be found to bethe greatest criminal; and my safety, for which the general voice will beengaged, will be yours.
But then comes the triumph of triumphs, that will make the accused lookup, while the accusers are covered with confusion.
Make room there!--stand by!--give back!--One receiving a rap, another anelbow, half a score a push a piece!--
Enter the slow-moving, hooded-faced, down-looking plaintiffs.--
And first the widow, with a sorrowful countenance, though half-veiled,pitying her daughter more than herself. The people, the womenespecially, who on this occasion will be five-sixths of the spectators,reproaching her--You'd have the conscience, would you, to have five suchbrave gentlemen as these hanged for you know not what?
Next comes the poor maid--who, perhaps, has been ravished twenty timesbefore; and had not appeared now, but for company-sake; mincing,simpering, weeping, by turns; not knowing whether she should be sorryor glad.
But every eye dwells upon Miss!--See, see, the handsome gentleman bows toher!
To the very ground, to be sure, I shall bow; and kiss my hand.
See her confusion! see! she turns from him!--Ay! that's because it is inopen court, cries an arch one!--While others admire her--Ay! that's agirl worth venturing one's neck for!
Then we shall be praised--even the judges, and the whole crowded bench,will acquit us in their hearts! and every single man wish he had been me!--the women, all the time, disclaiming prosecution, were the case to betheir own. To be sure, Belford, the sufferers cannot put half so good aface upon the matter as we.
Then what a noise will this matter make!--Is it not enough, suppose usmoving from the prison to the sessions-house,* to make a noble heartthump it away most gloriously, when such an one finds himself attended tohis trial by a parade of guards and officers, of miens and aspectswarlike and unwarlike; himself of their whole care, and their business!weapons in their hands, some bright, some rusty, equally venerable fortheir antiquity and inoffensiveness! others of more authoritativedemeanour, strutting before with fine painted staves! shoals of peoplefollowing, with a Which is he whom the young lady appears against?--Then, let us look down, look up, look round, which way we will, we shallsee all the doors, the shops, the windows, the sign-irons, and balconies,(garrets, gutters, and chimney-tops included,) all white-capt, black-hooded, and periwigg'd, or crop-ear'd up by the immobile vulgus: whilethe floating street-swarmers, who have seen us pass by at one place, runwith stretched-out necks, and strained eye-balls, a roundabout way, andelbow and shoulder themselves into places by which we have not passed, inorder to obtain another sight of us; every street continuing to pour outits swarms of late-comers, to add to the gathering snowball; who arecontent to take descriptions of our persons, behaviour, and countenances,from those who had the good fortune to have been in time to see us.
* Within these few years past, a passage has been made from the prison tothe sessions-house, whereby malefactors are carried into court withoutgoing through the street. Lovelace's triumph on their supposed marchshows the wisdom of this alteration.
Let me tell thee, Jack, I see not why (to judge according to ourprinciples and practices) we should not be as much elated in our march,were this to happen to us, as others may be upon any other the most mob-attracting occasion--suppose a lord-mayor on his gawdy--suppose avictorious general, or ambassador, on his public entry--suppose (as Ibegan with the lowest) the grandest parade that can be supposed, acoronation--for, in all these, do not the royal guard, the heroictrained-bands, the pendent, clinging throngs of spectators, with theirwaving heads rolling to-and-fro from house-tops to house-bottoms andstreet-ways, as I have above described, make the principal part of theraree-show?
And let me ask thee, if thou dost not think, that either the mayor, theambassador, or the general would not make very pitiful figures on theirgalas, did not the trumpets and tabrets call together the canaille togaze at them?--Nor perhaps should we be the most guilty heroes neither:for who knows how the magistrate may have obtained his gold chain? whilethe general probably returns from cutting of throats, and from murders,sanctified by custom only.--Caesar, we are told,* had won, at the age offifty-six, when he was assassinated, fifty pitched battles, had taken byassault above a thousand towns, and slain near 1,200,000 men; I supposeexclusive of those who fell on his own side in slaying them. Are not youand I, Jack, innocent men, and babes in swaddling-clothes, compared toCaesar, and to his predecessor in heroism, Alexander, dubbed, for murdersand depredation, Magnus?
* Pliny gives this account, putting the number of men slain at 1,100,092.See also Lipsius de Constandia.
The principal difference that strikes me in the comparison between us andthe mayor, the ambassador, the general, on their gawdies, is, that themob make a greater noise, a louder huzzaing, in the one case than theother, which is called acclamation, and ends frequently in higher taste,by throwing dead animals at one another, before they disperse; in whichthey have as much joy, as in the former part of the triumph: while theywill attend us with all the marks of an awful or silent (at most only awhispering) respect; their mouths distended, as if set open with gags,and their voices generally lost in goggle-ey'd admiration.
Well, but suppose, after all, we are convicted; what have we to do, butin time make over our estates, that the sheriffs may not revel in ourspoils?--There is no fear of being hanged for such a crime as this, whilewe have money or friends.--And suppose even the worst, that two or threewere to die, have we not a chance, each man of us, to escape? Thedevil's in them, if they'll hang five for ravishing three!
I know I shall get off for one--were it but for family sake: and being ahandsome fellow, I shall have a dozen or two young maidens, all dressedin white, go to court to beg my life--and what a pretty show they willmake, with their white hoods, white gowns, white petticoats, whitescarves, white gloves, kneeling for me, with their white handkerchiefsat their eyes, in two pretty rows, as his Majesty walks through them andnods my pardon for their sakes!--And, if once pardoned, all is over: for,Jack, in a crime of this nature there lies no appeal, as in a murder.
So thou seest the worst that can happen, should we not make the grandtour upon this occasion, but stay and take our trials. But it is mostlikely, that they will not prosecute at all. If not, no risque on ourside will be run; only taking our pleasure abroad, at the worst; leavingfriends tired of us, in order, after a time, to return to the samefriends endeared to us, as we to them, by absence.
This, Jack, is my scheme, at the first running. I know it is capable ofimprovement--for example: I can land these ladies in France; whip overbefore they can get a passage back, or before Hickman can have recoveredhis fright; and so find means to entrap my beloved on board--and then allwill be right; and I need not care if I were never to return to England.
Memorandum, To be considered of--Whether, in order to complete my vengeance, I cannot contrive to kidnap away either James Harlowe or Solmes? or both? A man, Jack, would not go into exile for nothing.
LETTER LV
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
If, Belford, thou likest not my plot upon Miss Howe, I have three or fourmore as good in my own opinion; better, perhaps, they will be in thine:and so 'tis but getting loose from thy present engagement, and thou shaltpick and choose. But as for thy three brethren, they must do as I wouldhave them: and so, indeed, must thou--Else why am I your general? But Iwill refer this subject to its proper season. Thou knowest, that I neverabsolutely conclude upon a project, till 'tis time for execution; andthen lightning strikes not quicker than I.
And now to the subject next my heart.
Wilt thou believe me, when I tell thee, that I have so many contrivancesrising up and crowding upon me for preference, with regard to myGloriana, that I hardly know which to choose?--I could tell thee of noless than six princely ones, any of which must do. But as the dearcreature has not grudged giving me trouble, I think I ought not, ingratitude, to spare combustibles for he
r; but, on the contrary, to makeher stare and stand aghast, by springing three or four mines at once.
Thou remembrest what Shakespeare, in his Troilus and Cressida, makesHector, who, however, is not used to boast, say to Achilles in aninterview between them; and which, applied to this watchful lady, and tothe vexation she has given me, and to the certainty I now think I have ofsubduing her, will run thus: supposing the charmer before me; and Imeditating her sweet person from head to foot:
Henceforth, O watchful fair-one, guard thee well: For I'll not kill thee there! nor there! nor there! But, by the zone that circles Venus' waist, I'll kill thee ev'ry where; yea, o'er and o'er.-- Thou, wisest Belford, pardon me this brag: Her watchfulness draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match the words, Or I may never----
Then I imagine thee interposing to qualify my impatience, as Ajax did toAchilles:
----Do not chafe thee, cousin: ----And let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring thee to it.
All that vexes me, in the midst of my gloried-in devices, is, that thereis a sorry fellow in the world, who has presumed to question, whether theprize, when obtained, is worthy of the pains it costs me: yet knows, withwhat patience and trouble a bird-man will spread an acre of ground withgins and snares; set up his stalking horse, his glasses; plant his decoy-birds, and invite the feathered throng by his whistle; and all his prizeat last (the reward of early hours, and of a whole morning's pains) onlya simple linnet.
To be serious, Belford, I must acknowledge, that all our pursuits, fromchildhood to manhood, are only trifles of different sort and sizes,proportioned to our years and views: but then is not a fine woman thenoblest trifle, that ever was or could be obtained by man?--And to whatpurpose do we say obtained, if it be not in the way we wish for?--If a manis rather to be her prize, than she his?
***
And now, Belford, what dost think?
That thou art a cursed fellow, if--
If--no if's--but I shall be very sick to-morrow. I shall, 'faith.
Sick!--Why sick? What a-devil shouldst thou be sick for?
For more good reasons than one, Jack.
I should be glad to hear but one.--Sick, quotha! Of all thy roguishinventions I should not have thought of this.
Perhaps thou thinkest my view to be, to draw the lady to my bedside.That's a trick of three or four thousand years old; and I should find itmuch more to my purpose, if I could get to her's. However, I'llcondescend to make thee as wise as myself.
I am excessively disturbed about this smuggling scheme of Miss Howe. Ihave no doubt, that my fair-one, were I to make an attempt, and miscarry,will fly from me, if she can. I once believed she loved me: but now Idoubt whether she does or not: at least, that it is with such an ardour,as Miss Howe calls it, as will make her overlook a premeditated fault,should I be guilty of one.
And what will being sick do for thee?
Have patience. I don't intend to be so very bad as Dorcas shallrepresent me to be. But yet I know I shall reach confoundedly, and bringup some clotted blood. To be sure, I shall break a vessel: there's nodoubt of that: and a bottle of Eaton's styptic shall be sent for; but nodoctor. If she has humanity, she will be concerned. But if she haslove, let it have been pushed ever so far back, it will, on thisoccasion, come forward, and show itself; not only in her eye, but inevery line of her sweet face.
I will be very intrepid. I will not fear death, or any thing else. Iwill be sure of being well in an hour or two, having formerly found greatbenefit by this astringent medicine, on occasion of an inward bruise by afall from my horse in hunting, of which perhaps this malady may be theremains. And this will show her, that though those about me may make themost of it, I do not; and so can have no design in it.
Well, methinks thou sayest, I begin to think tolerably of this device.
I knew thou wouldst, when I explained myself. Another time prepare towonder; and banish doubt.
Now, Belford, I shall expect, that she will show some concern at thebroken vessel, as it may be attended with fatal effects, especially toone so fiery in his temper as I have the reputation to be thought to be:and the rather, as I shall calmly attribute the accident to the harassesand doubts under which I have laboured for some time past. And this willbe a further proof of my love, and will demand a grateful return--
And what then, thou egregious contriver?
Why then I shall have the less remorse, if I am to use a little violence:for can she deserve compassion, who shows none?
And what if she shows a great deal of concern?
Then shall I be in hopes of building on a good foundation. Love hides amultitude of faults, and diminishes those it cannot hide. Love, whenacknowledged, authorizes freedom; and freedom begets freedom; and I shallthen see how far I can go.
Well but, Lovelace, how the deuce wilt thou, with that full health andvigour of constitution, and with that bloom in thy face, make any bodybelieve thou art sick?
How!--Why, take a few grains of ipecacuanha; enough to make me reach likea fury.
Good!--But how wilt thou manage to bring up blood, and not hurt thyself?
Foolish fellow! Are there no pigeons and chickens in every poulterer'sshop?
Cry thy mercy.
But then I will be persuaded by Mrs. Sinclair, that I have of lateconfined myself too much; and so will have a chair called, and be carriedto the Park; where I will try to walk half the length of the Mall, or so;and in my return, amuse myself at White's or the Cocoa.
And what will this do?
Questioning again!--I am afraid thou'rt an infidel, Belford--Why thenshall I not know if my beloved offers to go out in my absence?--And shallI not see whether she receives me with tenderness at my return? But thisis not all: I have a foreboding that something affecting will happenwhile I am out. But of this more in its place.
And now, Belford, wilt thou, or wilt thou not, allow, that it is a rightthing to be sick?--Lord, Jack, so much delight do I take in mycontrivances, that I shall be half sorry when the occasion for them isover; for never, never, shall I again have such charming exercise for myinvention.
Mean time these plaguy women are so impertinent, so full of reproaches,that I know not how to do any thing but curse them. And then, truly,they are for helping me out with some of their trite and vulgarartifices. Sally, particularly, who pretends to be a mighty contriver,has just now, in an insolent manner, told me, on my rejecting herproffered aids, that I had no mind to conquer; and that I was so wickedas to intend to marry, though I would not own it to her.
Because this little devil made her first sacrifice at my altar, shethinks she may take any liberty with me: and what makes her outrageous attimes is, that I have, for a long time, studiously, as she says, slightedher too-readily-offered favours: But is it not very impudent in her tothink, that I will be any man's successor? It is not come to thatneither. This, thou knowest, was always my rule--Once any other man's,and I know it, and never more mine. It is for such as thou, and thybrethren, to take up with harlots. I have been always aiming at themerit of a first discoverer.
The more devil I, perhaps thou wilt say, to endeavour to corrupt theuncorrupted.
But I say, not; since, hence, I have but very few adulteries to answerfor.
One affair, indeed, at Paris, with a married lady [I believe I never toldthee of it] touched my conscience a little: yet brought on by the spiritof intrigue, more than by sheer wickedness. I'll give it thee in brief:
'A French marquis, somewhat in years, employed by his court in a publicfunction at that of Madrid, had put his charming young new-married wifeunder the controul and wardship, as I may say, of his insolent sister, anold prude.
'I saw the lady at the opera. I liked her at first sight, and better atsecond, when I knew the situation she was in. So, pretending to make myaddresses to the prude, got admittance to both.
'The first thing I had to do, was to compliment the prud
e into shyness bycomplaints of shyness: next, to take advantage of the marquise'ssituation, between her husband's jealousy and his sister's arrogance; andto inspire her with resentment; and, as I hoped, with a regard to myperson. The French ladies have no dislike to intrigue.
'The sister began to suspect me: the lady had no mind to part with thecompany of the only man who had been permitted to visit her; and told meof her sister's suspicions. I put her upon concealing the prude, as ifunknown to me, in a closet in one of her own apartments, locking her in,and putting the key in her own pocket: and she was to question me on thesincerity of my professions to her sister, in her sister's hearing.
'She complied. My mistress was locked up. The lady and I took ourseats. I owned fervent love, and made high professions: for the marquiseput it home to me. The prude was delighted with what she heard.
'And how dost thou think it ended?--I took my advantage of the ladyherself, who durst not for her life cry out; and drew her after me to thenext apartment, on pretence of going to seek her sister, who all the timewas locked up in the closet.'
No woman ever gave me a private meeting for nothing; my dearest MissHarlowe excepted.
'My ingenuity obtained my pardon: the lady being unable to forbearlaughing throughout the whole affair, to find both so uncommonly tricked;her gaoleress her prisoner, safe locked up, and as much pleased as eitherof us.'
The English, Jack, do not often out-wit the French.
'We had contrivances afterwards equally ingenious, in which the lady, theice once broken [once subdued, always subdued] co-operated. But a moretender tell-tale revealed the secret--revealed it, before the marquisecould cover the disgrace. The sister was inveterate; the husbandirreconcilable; in every respect unfit for a husband, even for a Frenchone--made, perhaps, more delicate to these particulars by the customs ofa people among whom he was then resident, so contrary to those of his owncountrymen. She was obliged to throw herself into my protection--northought herself unhappy in it, till childbed pangs seized her: thenpenitence, and death, overtook her the same hour!'
Excuse a tear, Belford!--She deserved a better fate! What hath such avile inexorable husband to answer for!--The sister was punishedeffectually--that pleases me on reflection--the sister effectuallypunished!--But perhaps I have told thee this story before.
END OF VOL.4
Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 Page 56
