She wished to see it.
This puzzled me horribly: for you must needs think that most of the free
things, which, among us rakes, pass for wit and spirit, must be shocking
stuff to the ears or eyes of persons of delicacy of that sex: and then
such an air of levity runs through thy most serious letters; such a false
bravery, endeavouring to carry off ludicrously the subjects that most
affect thee; that those letters are generally the least fit to be seen,
which ought to be most to thy credit.
Something like this I observed to her; and would fain have excused myself
from showing it: but she was so earnest, that I undertook to read some
parts of it, resolving to omit the most exceptionable.
I know thou'lt curse me for that; but I thought it better to oblige her
than to be suspected myself; and so not have it in my power to serve thee
with her, when so good a foundation was laid for it; and when she knows
as bad of thee as I can tell her.
Thou rememberest the contents, I suppose, of thy furious letter.* Her
remarks upon the different parts of it, which I read to her, were to the
following effect:
* See Letter XII. of this volume.
Upon the last two lines, All undone! undone, by Jupiter! Zounds, Jack,
what shall I do now? a curse upon all my plots and contrivances! thus she
expressed herself:
'O how light, how unaffected with the sense of its own crimes, is the
heart that could dictate to the pen this libertine froth?'
The paragraph which mentions the vile arrest affected her a good deal.
In the next I omitted thy curse upon thy relations, whom thou wert
gallanting: and read on the seven subsequent paragraphs down to thy
execrable wish; which was too shocking to read to her. What I read
produced the following reflections from her:
'The plots and contrivances which he curses, and the exultings of the
wicked wretches on finding me out, show me that all his guilt was
premeditated: nor doubt I that his dreadful perjuries, and inhuman arts,
as he went along, were to pass for fine stratagems; for witty sport; and
to demonstrate a superiority of inventive talents!--O my cruel, cruel
brother! had it not been for thee, I had not been thrown upon so
pernicious and so despicable a plotter!--But proceed, Sir; pray proceed.'
At that part, Canst thou, O fatal prognosticator! tell me where my
punishment will end?--she sighed. And when I came to that sentence,
praying for my reformation, perhaps--Is that there? said she, sighing
again. Wretched man!--and shed a tear for thee.--By my faith, Lovelace,
I believe she hates thee not! she has at least a concern, a generous
concern for thy future happiness--What a noble creature hast thou
injured!
She made a very severe reflection upon me, on reading the words--On your
knees, for me, beg her pardon--'You had all your lessons, Sir, said she,
when you came to redeem me--You was so condescending as to kneel: I
thought it was the effect of your own humanity, and good-natured
earnestness to serve me--excuse me, Sir, I knew not that it was in
consequence of a prescribed lesson.'
This concerned me not a little; I could not bear to be thought such a
wretched puppet, such a Joseph Leman, such a Tomlinson. I endeavoured,
therefore, with some warmth, to clear myself of this reflection; and she
again asked my excuse: 'I was avowedly, she said, the friend of a man,
whose friendship, she had reason to be sorry to say, was no credit to any
body.'--And desired me to proceed.
I did; but fared not much better afterwards: for on that passage where
you say, I had always been her friend and advocate, this was her
unanswerable remark: 'I find, Sir, by this expression, that he had always
designs against me; and that you all along knew that he had. Would to
Heaven, you had had the goodness to have contrived some way, that might
not have endangered your own safety, to give me notice of his baseness,
since you approved not of it! But you gentlemen, I suppose, had rather
see an innocent fellow-creature ruined, than be thought capable of an
action, which, however generous, might be likely to loosen the bands of a
wicked friendship!'
After this severe, but just reflection, I would have avoided reading the
following, although I had unawares begun the sentence, (but she held me
to it:) What would I now give, had I permitted you to have been a
successful advocate! And this was her remark upon it--'So, Sir, you see,
if you had been the happy means of preventing the evils designed me, you
would have had your friend's thanks for it when he came to his
consideration. This satisfaction, I am persuaded every one, in the long
run, will enjoy, who has the virtue to withstand, or prevent, a wicked
purpose. I was obliged, I see, to your kind wishes--but it was a point
of honour with you to keep his secret; the more indispensable with you,
perhaps, the viler the secret. Yet permit me to wish, Mr. Belford, that
you were capable of relishing the pleasures that arise to a benevolent
mind from VIRTUOUS friendship!--none other is worthy of the sacred name.
You seem an humane man: I hope, for your own sake, you will one day
experience the difference: and, when you do, think of Miss Howe and
Clarissa Harlowe, (I find you know much of my sad story,) who were the
happiest creatures on earth in each other's friendship till this friend
of your's'--And there she stopt, and turned from me.
Where thou callest thyself a villanous plotter; 'To take a crime to
himself, said she, without shame, O what a hardened wretch is this man!'
On that passage, where thou sayest, Let me know how she has been treated:
if roughly, woe be to the guilty! this was her remark, with an air of
indignation: 'What a man is your friend, Sir!--Is such a one as he to set
himself up to punish the guilty?--All the rough usage I could receive
from them, was infinitely less'--And there she stopt a moment or two:
then proceeding--'And who shall punish him? what an assuming wretch!--
Nobody but himself is entitled to injure the innocent;--he is, I suppose,
on the earth, to act the part which the malignant fiend is supposed to
act below--dealing out punishments, at his pleasure, to every inferior
instrument of mischief!'
What, thought I, have I been doing! I shall have this savage fellow
think I have been playing him booty, in reading part of his letter to
this sagacious lady!--Yet, if thou art angry, it can only, in reason,
be at thyself; for who would think I might not communicate to her some
of thy sincerity in exculpating thyself from a criminal charge, which
thou wrotest to thy friend, to convince him of thy innocence? But a bad
heart, and a bad cause are confounded things: and so let us put it to its
proper account.
I passed over thy charge to me, to curse them by the hour; and thy names
of dragon and serpents, though so applicable; since, had I read them,
thou must have been supposed to know from the first what creatures they
were; vile fellow as thou wert, for bringing so much purity among them!
And I closed with thy own concluding paragraph, A line! a line! a kingdom
for a line! &c. However, telling her (since she saw that I omitted some
sentences) that there were farther vehemences in it; but as they were
better fitted to show to me the sincerity of the writer than for so
delicate an ear as her's to hear, I chose to pass them over.
You have read enough, said she--he is a wicked, wicked man!--I see he
intended to have me in his power at any rate; and I have no doubt of what
his purposes were, by what his actions have been. You know his vile
Tomlinson, I suppose--You know--But what signifies talking?--Never was
there such a premeditated false heart in man, [nothing can be truer,
thought I!] What has he not vowed! what has he not invented! and all for
what?--Only to ruin a poor young creature, whom he ought to have
protected; and whom he had first deceived of all other protection!
She arose and turned from me, her handkerchief at her eyes: and, after a
pause, came towards me again--'I hope, said she, I talk to a man who has
a better heart: and I thank you, Sir, for all your kind, though
ineffectual pleas in my favour formerly, whether the motives for them
were compassion, or principle, or both. That they were ineffectual,
might very probably be owing to your want of earnestness; and that, as
you might think, to my want of merit. I might not, in your eye, deserve
to be saved!--I might appear to you a giddy creature, who had run away
from her true and natural friends; and who therefore ought to take the
consequence of the lot she had drawn.'
I was afraid, for thy sake, to let her know how very earnest I had been:
but assured her that I had been her zealous friend; and that my motives
were founded upon a merit, that, I believed, was never equaled: that,
however indefensible Mr. Lovelace was, he had always done justice to her
virtue: that to a full conviction of her untainted honour it was owing
that he so earnestly desired to call so inestimable a jewel his--and was
proceeding, when she again cut me short--
Enough, and too much, of this subject, Sir!--If he will never more let me
behold his face, that is all I have now to ask of him.--Indeed, indeed,
clasping her hands, I never will, if I can, by any means not criminally
desperate, avoid it.
What could I say for thee?--There was no room, however, at that time, to
touch this string again, for fear of bringing upon myself a prohibition,
not only of the subject, but of ever attending her again.
I gave some distant intimations of money-matters. I should have told
thee, when I read to her that passage, where thou biddest me force what
sums upon her I can get her to take--she repeated, No, no, no, no!
several times with great quickness; and I durst no more than just
intimate it again--and that so darkly, as left her room to seem not to
understand me.
Indeed I know not the person, man or woman, I should be so much afraid
of disobliging, or incurring a censure from, as from her. She has so
much true dignity in her manner, without pride or arrogance, (which, in
those who have either, one is tempted to mortify,) such a piercing eye,
yet softened so sweetly with rays of benignity, that she commands all
one's reverence.
Methinks I have a kind of holy love for this angel of a woman; and it is
matter of astonishment to me, that thou couldst converse with her a
quarter of an hour together, and hold thy devilish purposes.
Guarded as she was by piety, prudence, virtue, dignity, family, fortune,
and a purity of heart that never woman before her boasted, what a real
devil must he be (yet I doubt I shall make thee proud!) who could resolve
to break through so many fences!
For my own part, I am more and more sensible that I ought not to have
contented myself with representing against, and expostulating with thee
upon, thy base intentions: and indeed I had it in my head, more than
once, to try to do something for her. But, wretch that I was! I was
with-held by notions of false honour, as she justly reproached me,
because of thy own voluntary communications to me of thy purposes: and
then, as she was brought into such a cursed house, and was so watched by
thyself, as well as by thy infernal agents, I thought (knowing my man!)
that I should only accelerate the intended mischiefs.--Moreover, finding
thee so much over-awed by her virtue, that thou hadst not, at thy first
carrying her thither, the courage to attempt her; and that she had, more
than once, without knowing thy base views, obliged thee to abandon them,
and to resolve to do her justice, and thyself honour; I hardly doubted,
that her merit would be triumphant at last.
It is my opinion, (if thou holdest thy purposes to marry,) that thou
canst not do better than to procure thy real aunts, and thy real cousins,
to pay her a visit, and to be thy advocates. But if they decline
personal visits, letters from them, and from my Lord M. supported by Miss
Howe's interest, may, perhaps, effect something in thy favour.
But these are only my hopes, founded on what I wish for thy sake. The
lady, I really think, would choose death rather than thee: and the two
women are of opinion, though they knew not half of what she has suffered,
that her heart is actually broken.
At taking my leave, I tendered my best services to her, and besought her
to permit me frequently to inquire after her health.
She made me no answer, but by bowing her head.