MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 8.
O for a curse to kill with!--Ruined! Undone! Outwitted!
Tricked!--Zounds, man, the lady has gone off!--Absolutely gone off!
Escaped!--
Thou knowest not, nor canst conceive, the pangs that wring my heart!--
What can I do!--O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!
And thou, too, who hast endeavoured to weaken my hands, wilt but clap thy
dragon's wings at the tidings!
Yet I must write, or I shall go distracted! Little less have I been
these two hours; dispatching messengers to every stage, to every inn, to
every waggon or coach, whether flying or creeping, and to every house
with a bill up, for five miles around.
The little hypocrite, who knows not a soul in this town, [I thought I was
sure of her at any time,] such an unexperienced traitress--giving me hope
too, in her first billet, that her expectation of the family-
reconciliation would withhold her from taking such a step as this--curse
upon her contrivances!--I thought, that it was owing to her bashfulness,
to her modesty, that, after a few innocent freedoms, she could not look
me in the face; when, all the while, she was impudently [yes, I say,
impudently, though she be Clarissa Harlowe] contriving to rob me of the
dearest property I had ever purchased--purchased by a painful servitude
of many months; fighting through the wild-beasts of her family for her,
and combating with a wind-mill virtue, which hath cost me millions of
perjuries only to attempt; and which now, with its damn'd air-fans, has
tost me a mile and a half beyond hope!--And this, just as I had arrived
within view of the consummation of all my wishes!
O Devil of Love! God of Love no more--how have I deserved this of
thee!--Never before the friend of frozen virtue?--Powerless demon, for
powerless thou must be, if thou meanedest not to frustrate my hopes; who
shall henceforth kneel at thy altars!--May every enterprising heart
abhor, despise, execrate, renounce thee, as I do!--But, O Belford,
Belford, what signifies cursing now!
***
How she could effect this her wicked escape is my astonishment; the whole
sisterhood having charge of her;--for, as yet, I have not had patience
enough to inquire into the particulars, nor to let a soul of them
approach me.
Of this I am sure, or I had not brought her hither, there is not a
creature belonging to this house, that could be corrupted either by
virtue or remorse: the highest joy every infernal nymph, of this worse
than infernal habitation, could have known, would have been to reduce
this proud beauty to her own level.--And as to my villain, who also had
charge of her, he is such a seasoned varlet, that he delights in mischief
for the sake of it: no bribe could seduce him to betray his trust, were
there but wickedness in it!--'Tis well, however, he was out of my way
when the cursed news was imparted to me!--Gone, the villain! in quest of
her: not to return, nor to see my face [so it seems he declared] till he
has heard some tidings of her; and all the out-of-place varlets of his
numerous acquaintance are summoned and employed in the same business.
To what purpose brought I this angel (angel I must yet call her) to this
hellish house?--And was I not meditating to do her deserved honour? By
my soul, Belford, I was resolved--but thou knowest what I had
conditionally resolved--And now, who can tell into what hands she may
have fallen!
I am mad, stark mad, by Jupiter, at the thoughts of this!--Unprovided,
destitute, unacquainted--some villain, worse than myself, who adores her
not as I adore her, may have seized her, and taken advantage of her
distress!--Let me perish, Belford, if a whole hecatomb of innocents, as
the little plagues are called, shall atone for the broken promises and
wicked artifices of this cruel creature!
***
Going home, as I did, with resolutions favourable to her, judge thou of
my distraction, when her escape was first hinted to me, although but in
broken sentences. I knew not what I said, nor what I did. I wanted to
kill somebody. I flew out of one room into another, who broke the matter
to me. I charged bribery and corruption, in my first fury, upon all; and
threatened destruction to old and young, as they should come in my way.
Dorcas continues locked up from me: Sally and Polly have not yet dared to
appear: the vile Sinclair--
But here comes the odious devil. She taps at the door, thought that's
only a-jar, whining and snuffling, to try, I suppose, to coax me into
temper.
***
What a helpless state, where a man can only execrate himself and others;
the occasion of his rage remaining; the evil increasing upon reflection;
time itself conspiring to deepen it!--O how I curs'd her!
I have her now, methinks, before me, blubbering--how odious does sorrow
make an ugly face!--Thine, Jack, and this old beldam's, in penitentials,
instead of moving compassion, must evermore confirm hatred; while beauty
in tears, is beauty heightened, and what my heart has ever delighted to
see.----
'What excuse!--Confound you, and your cursed daughters, what excuse can
you make?--Is she not gone--Has she not escaped?--But before I am quite
distracted, before I commit half a hundred murders, let me hear how it
was.'----
***
I have heard her story!--Art, damn'd, confounded, wicked, unpardonable
art, is a woman of her character--But show me a woman, and I'll show thee
a plotter!--This plaguy sex is art itself: every individual of it is a
plotter by nature.
This is the substance of the old wretch's account.
She told me, 'That I had no sooner left the vile house, than Dorcas
acquainted the syren' [Do, Jack, let me call her names!--I beseech thee,
Jack, to permit me to call her names!] 'that Dorcas acquainted her lady
with it; and that I had left word, that I was gone to doctors-commons,
and should be heard of for some hours at the Horn there, if inquired
after by the counsellor, or anybody else: that afterwards I should be
either at the Cocoa-tree, or King's-Arms, and should not return till
late. She then urged her to take some refreshment.
'She was in tears when Dorcas approached her; her saucy eyes swelled with
weeping: she refused either to eat or drink; sighed as if her heart would
break.'--False, devilish grief! not the humble, silent, grief, that only
deserves pity!--Contriving to ruin me, to despoil me of all that I held
valuable, in the very midst of it.
'Nevertheless, being resolved not to see me for a week at least, she
ordered her to bring up three or four French rolls, with a little butter,
and a decanter of water; telling her, she would dispense with her
attendance; and that should be all she should live upon in the interim.
So artful creature! pretending to lay up for a week's siege.'--For, as to
substantial food, she, no more than other angels--Angels! said I--the
devil take me if she be any more an angel!--for she is odious in my eyes;
and I hate her mortally!
But O Lovelace, thou liest!--She is all that is lovely. All that is
excellent!
But is she, can she be gone!--Oh! how Miss Howe will triumph!--But if
that little fury receive her, fate shall make me rich amends; for then
will I contrive to have them both.
I was looking back for connection--but the devil take connection; I have
no business with it: the contrary best befits distraction, and that will
soon be my lot!
'Dorcas consulted the old wretch about obeying her: O yes, by all means;
for Mr. Lovelace knew how to come at her at any time: and directed a
bottle of sherry to be added.
'This cheerful compliance so obliged her, that she was prevailed upon to
go up, and look at the damage done by the fire; and seemed not only
shocked by it, but, as they thought, satisfied it was no trick; as she
owned she had at first apprehended it to be. All this made them secure;
and they laughed in their sleeves, to think what a childish way of
showing her resentment she had found out; Sally throwing out her
witticisms, that Mrs. Lovelace was right, however, not to quarrel with
her bread and butter.'
Now this very childishness, as they imagined it, in such a genius, would
have made me suspect either her head, after what had happened the night
before; or her purpose, when the marriage was (so far as she knew) to be
completed within the week in which she was resolved to secrete herself
from me in the same house.
'She sent Will. with a letter to Wilson's, directed to Miss Howe,
ordering him to inquire if there were not one for her there.
'He only pretended to go, and brought word there was none; and put her
letter in his pocket for me.
'She then ordered him to carry another (which she gave him) to the Horn
Tavern to me.--All this done without any seeming hurry: yet she appeared
to be very solemn; and put her handkerchief frequently to her eyes.
'Will. pretended to come to me with this letter. But thou the dog had
the sagacity to mistrust something on her sending him out a second time;
(and to me, whom she had refused to see;) which he thought extraordinary;
and mentioned his mistrusts to Sally, Polly, and Dorcas; yet they made
light of his suspicions; Dorcas assuring them all, that her lady seemed
more stupid with her grief, than active; and that she really believed she
was a little turned in her head, and knew not what she did. But all of
them depended upon her inexperience, her open temper, and upon her not
making the least motion towards going out, or to have a coach or chair
called, as sometimes she had done; and still more upon the preparations
she had made for a week's siege, as I may call it.
'Will. went out, pretending to bring the letter to me; but quickly
returned; his heart still misgiving him, on recollecting my frequent
cautions, that he was not to judge for himself, when he had positive
orders; but if any doubt occurred, from circumstances I could not
foresee, literally to follow them, as the only way to avoid blame.
'But it must have been in this little interval, that she escaped; for
soon after his return, they made fast the street-door and hatch, the
mother and the two nymphs taking a little turn into the garden; Dorcas
going up stairs, and Will. (to avoid being seen by his lady, or his voice
heard) down into the kitchen.
'About half an hour after, Dorcas, who had planted herself where she
could see her lady's door open, had the curiosity to go look through the
keyhole, having a misgiving, as she said, that the lady might offer some
violence to herself, in the mood she had been in all day; and finding the
key in the door, which was not very usual, she tapped at it three or four
times, and having no answer, opened it, with Madam, Madam, did you call?
--Supposing her in her closet.
'Having no answer, she stept forward, and was astonished to find she was
not there. She hastily ran into the dining-room, then into my
apartments; searched every closet; dreading all the time to behold some
sad catastrophe.
'Not finding her any where, she ran down to the old creature, and her
nymphs, with a Have you seen my lady?--Then she's gone!--She's no where
above!
'They were sure she could not be gone out.
'The whole house was in an uproar in an instant; some running up-stairs,
some down, from the upper rooms to the lower; and all screaming, How
should they look me in the face!
'Will. cried out, he was a dead man: he blamed them; they him; and every
one was an accuser, and an excuser, at the same time.
'When they had searched the whole house, and every closet in it, ten
times over, to no purpose, they took it into their heads to send to all
the porters, chairmen, and hackney-coachmen, that had been near the house
for two hours past, to inquire if any of them saw such a young lady;
describing her.
'This brought them some light: the only dawning for hope, that I can
have, and which keeps me from absolute despair. One of the chairmen gave
them this account: That he saw such a one come out of the house a little
before four (in a great hurry, and as if frighted) with a little parcel
tied up in a handkerchief, in her hand: that he took notice to his
fellow, who plied her without her answering, that she was a fine young
lady: that he'd warrant, she had either a husband, or very cross parents;
for that her eyes seemed swelled with crying. Upon which, a third fellow
replied, that it might be a doe escaped from mother Damnable's park.
This Mrs. Sinclair told me with a curse, and a wish that she had a better
reputation; so handsomely as she lived, and so justly as she paid every
body for what she bought; her house visited by the best and civilest of
gentlemen; and no noise or brawls ever heard or known in it.
'From these appearances, the fellow who gave this information, had the
curiosity to follow her, unperceived. She often looked back. Every body
who passed her, turned to look after her; passing their verdict upon her
tears, her hurry, and her charming person; till coming to a stand of
coaches, a coachman plied her; was accepted; alighted; opened the
coach-door in a hurry, seeing her hurry; and in it she stumbled for
haste; and, as the fellow believed, hurt her shin with the stumble.'
The devil take me, Belford, if my generous heart is not moved for her,
notwithstanding her wicked deceit, to think what must be her reflections
and apprehensions at the time:--A mind so delicate, heeding no censures;
yet, probably afraid of being laid hold of by a Lovelace in every one she
saw! At the same time, not knowing to what dangers she was about to
expose herself; nor of whom she could obtain shelter; a stranger to the
town, and to all its ways; the afternoon far gone: but little money; and
no clothes but those she had on!
It is impossible, in this little interval since last night, that Miss
Howe's Townsend could be co-operating.
But how she must abhor me to run all these risques; how heartily she must
detest me for my freedoms of last night! Oh! that I had given her
greater reason for a resentment so violent!--As to her virtue, I am too
much enraged to give her the merit due to that. To virtue it cannot be
owing that she should fly from the charming prospects that were before
her; but to malice, hatred, contempt, Harlowe pride, (the worst of
pride,) and to all the deadly passions that ever reigned in a female
breast--and if I can but recover her--But be still, be calm, be hushed,
my stormy passions; for is it not Clarissa [Harlowe must I say?] that
thus far I rave against?
'The fellow heard her say, drive fast! very fast! Where, Madam? To
Holborn-bars, answered she; repeating, Drive very fast!--And up she
pulled both the windows: and he lost sight of the coach in a minute.
'Will., as soon as he had this intelligence, speeded away in hopes to
trace her out; declaring, that he would never think of seeing me, till he
had heard some tidings of his lady.'
And now, Belford, all my hope is, that this fellow (who attended us in
our airing to Hampstead, to Highgate, to Muswell-hill, to Kentish-town)
will hear of her at some one or other of those places. And on this I the
rather build, as I remember she was once, after our return, very
inquisitive about the stages, and their prices; praising the conveniency
to passengers in their going off every hour; and this in Will.'s hearing,
who was then in attendance. Woe be to the villain, if he recollect not
this!
***
I have been traversing her room, meditating, or taking up every thing she
but touched or used: the glass she dressed at, I was ready to break, for
not giving me the personal image it was wont to reflect of her, whose
idea is for ever present with me. I call for her, now in the tenderest,
now in the most reproachful terms, as if within hearing: wanting her, I
want my own soul, at least every thing dear to it. What a void in my
heart! what a chilness in my blood, as if its circulation was arrested!
From her room to my own; in the dining-room, and in and out of every
place where I have seen the beloved of my heart, do I hurry; in none can
I tarry; her lovely image in every one, in some lively attitude, rushing
cruelly upon me, in differently remembered conversations.
But when in my first fury, at my return, I went up two pairs of stairs,
resolved to find the locked-up Dorcas, and beheld the vainly-burnt
window-board, and recollected my baffled contrivances, baffled by my own
weak folly, I thought my distraction completed; and down I ran as one
frighted at a spectre, ready to howl for vexation; my head and my temples
shooting with a violence I had never felt before; and my back aching as
if the vertebrae were disjointed, and falling in pieces.
But now that I have heard the mother's story, and contemplated the
dawning hopes given by the chairman's information, I am a good deal
easier, and can make cooler reflections. Most heartily pray I for
Will.'s success, every four or five minutes. If I lose her, all my rage
will return with redoubled fury. The disgrace to be thus outwitted by a
novice, an infant in stratagem and contrivance, added to the violence of
my passion for her, will either break my heart, or (what saves many a
heart, in evils insupportable) turn my brain. What had I to do to go out
a license-hunting, at least till I had seen her, and made up matters with
her? And indeed, were it not the privilege of a principal to lay all his
own faults upon his underlings, and never be to blame himself, I should
be apt to reflect, that I am more in fault than any body. And, as the
sting of this reflection will sharpen upon me, if I recover her not, how
shall I ever be able to bear it?