MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. [IN CONTINUATION.]

But is it not a confounded thing that I cannot fasten an obligation upon

this proud beauty? I have two motives in endeavouring to prevail upon

her to accept of money and raiment from me: one; the real pleasure I

should have in the accommodating of the haughty maid; and to think there

was something near her, and upon her, that I could call mine: the other,

in order to abate her severity and humble her a little.

Nothing more effectually brings down a proud spirit, than a sense of

lying under pecuniary obligations. This has always made me solicitous

to avoid laying myself under any such: yet, sometimes, formerly, have

I been put to it, and cursed the tardy resolution of the quarterly

periods. And yet I ever made shift to avoid anticipation: I never would

eat the calf in the cow's belly, as Lord M.'s phrase is: for what is

that, but to hold our lands upon tenant-courtesy, the vilest of all

tenures? To be denied a fox-chace, for breaking down a fence upon my own

grounds? To be clamoured at for repairs studied for, rather than really

wanted? To be prated to by a bumpkin with his hat on, and his arms

folded, as if he defied your expectations of that sort; his foot firmly

fixed, as if upon his own ground, and you forced to take his arch leers,

and stupid gybes; he intimating, by the whole of his conduct, that he

had had it in his power to oblige you, and, if you behave civilly, may

oblige you again? I, who think I have a right to break every man's head

I pass by, if I like not his looks, to bear this!--No more could I do

it, then I could borrow of an insolent uncle, or inquisitive aunt, who

would thence think themselves entitled to have an account of all my life

and actions laid before them for their review and censure.

My charmer, I see, has a pride like my own: but she has no distinction

in her pride: nor knows the pretty fool that there is nothing nobler,

nothing more delightful, than for loves to be conferring and receiving

obligations from each other. In this very farm-yard, to give thee a

familiar instance, I have more than once seen this remark illustrated. A

strutting rascal of a cock have I beheld chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck-ing

his mistress to him, when he has found a single barley-corn, taking it

up with his bill, and letting it drop five or six times, still repeating

his chucking invitation: and when two or three of his feathered ladies

strive who shall be the first for it [O Jack! a cock is a grand signor

of a bird!] he directs the bill of the foremost to it; and when she has

got the dirty pearl, he struts over her with an erected crest, cling

round her with dropt wings, sweeping the dust in humble courtship: while

the obliged she, half-shy, half-willing, by her cowering tail, prepared

wings, yet seemingly affrighted eyes, and contracted neck, lets one see

that she knows the barley-corn was not all he called her for.

When he comes to that part of his narrative, where he

mentions of the proposing of the Lady's maid Hannah, or one

of the young Sorlings, to attend her, thus he writes:

Now, Belford, canst thou imagine what I meant by proposing Hannah, or

one of the girls here, for her attendant? I'll give thee a month to

guess.

Thou wilt not pretend to guess, thou say'st.

Well, then I'll tell thee.

Believing she would certainly propose to have that favourite wench about

her, as soon as she was a little settled, I had caused the girl to be

inquired after, with an intent to make interest, some how or other, that

a month's warning should be insisted on by her master or mistress, or by

some other means, which I had not determined upon, to prevent her coming

to her. But fortune fights for me. The wench is luckily ill; a violent

rheumatic disorder, which has obliged her to leave her place, confines

her to her chamber. Poor Hannah! How I pity the girl! These things are

very hard upon industrious servants!--I intend to make the poor wench a

small present on the occasion--I know it will oblige my charmer.

And so, Jack, pretending not to know any thing of the matter, I pressed

her to send for Hannah. She knew I had always a regard for this servant,

because of her honest love to her lady: but now I have greater regard

for her than ever. Calamity, though a poor servant's calamity, will

rather increase than diminish good will, with a truly generous master or

mistress.

As to one of the young Sorling's attendance, there was nothing at all

in proposing that; for if either of them had been chosen by her, and

permitted by the mother [two chances in that!] it would have been only

till I had fixed upon another. And, if afterwards they had been loth to

part, I could easily have given my beloved to a jealousy, which would

have done the business; or to the girl, who would have quitted her

country dairy, such a relish for a London one, and as would have made

it very convenient for her to fall in love with Will; or perhaps I could

have done still better for her with Lord M.'s chaplain, who is very

desirous of standing well with his lord's presumptive heir.

A blessing on thy honest heart, Lovelace! thou'lt say; for thou art for

providing for every body!

He gives an account of the serious part of their

conversation, with no great variation from the Lady's

account of it: and when he comes to that part of it, where

he bids her remember, that reformation cannot be a sudden

thing, he asks his friend:

Is not this fair play? Is it not dealing ingenuously? Then the

observation, I will be bold to say, is founded in truth and nature. But

there was a little touch of policy in it besides; that the lady, if I

should fly out again, should not think me too gross an hypocrite: for,

as I plainly told her, I was afraid, that my fits of reformation were

but fits and sallies; but I hoped her example would fix them into

habits. But it is so discouraging a thing to have my monitress so

very good!--I protest I know not how to look up at her! Now, as I am

thinking, if I could pull her down a little nearer to my own level;

that is to say, could prevail upon her to do something that would

argue imperfection, something to repent of; we should jog on much

more equally, and be better able to comprehend one another: and so the

comfort would be mutual, and the remorse not all on one side.

He acknowledges that he was greatly affected and pleased

with the Lady's serious arguments at the time: but even then

was apprehensive that his temper would not hold. Thus he

writes:

This lady says serious things in so agreeable a manner (and then her

voice is all harmony when she touches a subject she is pleased with)

that I could have listened to her for half a day together. But yet I am

afraid, if she falls, as they call it, she will lose a good deal of that

pathos, of that noble self-confidence, which gives a good person, as I

now see, a visible superiority over one not so good.

But, after all, Belford, I would fain know why people call such

free-livers as you and me hypocrites.--That's a word I hate; and should

take it very ill to be called by it. For myself, I have as good motions,

and, perhaps, have them as frequently as any body: all the business is,

they don't hold; or, to speak more in character, I don't take the care

some do to conceal my lapses.

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 3 · 第 85 / 189 题