MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
SAT. AFTERNOON, SEPT. 9.
I understand, that thou breathest nothing but revenge against me, for
treating thee with so much freedom; and against the cursed woman and her
infernal crew. I am not at all concerned for thy menaces against myself.
It is my design to make thee feel. It gives me pleasure to find my
intention answered. And I congratulate thee, that thou hast not lost
that sense.
As to the cursed crew, well do they deserve the fire here, that thou
threatenest them with, and the fire hereafter, that seems to await them.
But I have this moment received news which will, in all likelihood, save
thee the guilt of punishing the old wretch for her share of wickedness as
thy agent. But if that happens to her which is likely to happen, wilt
thou not tremble for what may befal the principal?
Not to keep thee longer in suspense; last night, it seems, the infamous
woman got so heartily intoxicated with her beloved liquor, arrack punch,
at the expense of Colonel Salter, that, mistaking her way, she fell down
a pair of stairs, and broke her leg: and now, after a dreadful night, she
lies foaming, raving, roaring, in a burning fever, that wants not any
other fire to scorch her into a feeling more exquisite and durable than
any thy vengeance could give her.
The wretch has requested me to come to her; and lest I should refuse a
common messenger, sent her vile associate, Sally Martin; who not finding
me at Soho, came hither; another part of her business being to procure
the divine lady's pardon for the old creature's wickedness to her.
This devil incarnate, Sally, declares that she never was so shocked in
her life, as when I told her the lady was dead.
She took out her salts to keep from fainting; and when a little recovered
she accused herself for her part of the injuries the lady had sustained;
as she said Polly Horton would do for her's; and shedding tears,
declared, that the world never produced such another woman. She called
her the ornament and glory of her sex; acknowledged, that her ruin was
owing more to their instigations, than even (savage as thou art) to thy
own vileness; since thou wert inclined to have done her justice more than
once, had they not kept up thy profligate spirit to its height.
This wretch would fain have been admitted to a sight of the corpse; but I
refused the request with execrations.
She could forgive herself, she said, for every thing but her insults upon
the admirable lady at Rowland's, since all the rest was but in pursuit of
a livelihood, to which she had been reduced, as she boasted, from better
expectations, and which hundreds follow as well as she. I did not ask
her, by whom reduced?
At going away, she told me, that the old monster's bruises are of more
dangerous consequence than the fracture; that a mortification is
apprehended, and that the vile wretch has so much compunction of heart,
on recollecting her treatment of Miss Harlowe, and is so much set upon
procuring her forgiveness, that she is sure the news she is to carry her
will hasten her end.
All these things I leave upon thy reflection.