Thou, Lovelace, hast been long the entertainer; I the entertained. Nor
have I been solicitous to animadvert, as thou wentest along, upon thy
inventions, and their tendency. For I believed, that with all thy airs,
the unequalled perfections and fine qualities of this lady would always
be her protection and security. But now that I find thou hast so far
succeeded, as to induce her to come to town, and to choose her lodgings
in a house, the people of which will too probably damp and suppress any
honourable motions which may arise in thy mind in her favour, I cannot
help writing, and that professedly in her behalf.
My inducements to this are not owing to virtue: But if they were, what
hope could I have of affecting thee by pleas arising from it?
Nor would such a man as thou art be deterred, were I to remind thee
of the vengeance which thou mayest one day expect, if thou insultest a
woman of her character, family, and fortune.
Neither are gratitude and honour motives to be mentioned in a woman's
favour, to men such as we are, who consider all those of the sex as
fair prize, over honour, in the general acceptation of the word, are two
things.
What then is my motive?--What, but the true friendship that I bear thee,
Lovelace; which makes me plead thy own sake, and thy family's sake, in
the justice thou owest to this incomparable creature; who, however,
so well deserves to have her sake to be mentioned as the principal
consideration.
Last time I was at M. Hall, thy noble uncle so earnestly pressed me to
use my interest to persuade thee to enter the pale, and gave me so many
family reasons for it, that I could not help engaging myself heartily
on his side of the question; and the rather, as I knew that thy own
intentions with regard to this fine woman were then worthy of her. And
of this I assured his Lordship; who was half afraid of thee, because of
the ill usage thou receivedst from her family. But now, that the case is
altered, let me press the matter home to thee from other considerations.
By what I have heard of this lady's perfections from every mouth, as
well as from thine, and from every letter thou hast written, where
wilt thou find such another woman? And why shouldst thou tempt her
virtue?--Why shouldst thou wish to try where there is no reason to
doubt?
Were I in thy case, and designed to marry, and if I preferred a woman
as I know thou dost this to all the women in the world, I should read
to make further trial, knowing what we know of the sex, for fear of
succeeding; and especially if I doubted not, that if there were a woman
in the world virtuous at heart, it is she.
And let me tell thee, Lovelace, that in this lady's situation, the
trial is not a fair trial. Considering the depth of thy plots and
contrivances: considering the opportunities which I see thou must have
with her, in spite of her own heart; all her relations' follies acting
in concert, though unknown to themselves, with thy wicked, scheming
head: considering how destitute of protection she is: considering the
house she is to be in, where she will be surrounded with thy implements;
specious, well-bred and genteel creatures, not easily to be detected
when they are disposed to preserve appearances, especially by the young
inexperienced lady wholly unacquainted with the town: considering all
these things, I say, what glory, what cause of triumph wilt thou have,
if she should be overcome?--Thou, too, a man born for intrigue, full
of invention, intrepid, remorseless, able patiently to watch for thy
opportunity, not hurried, as most men, by gusts of violent passion,
which often nip a project in the bud, and make the snail, that was just
putting out his horns to meet the inviter, withdraw into its shell--a
man who has no regard to his word or oath to the sex; the lady
scrupulously strict to her word, incapable of art or design; apt
therefore to believe well of others--it would be a miracle if she stood
such an attempter, such attempts, and such snares, as I see will be
laid for her. And, after all, I see not when men are so frail without
importunity, that so much should be expected from women, daughters of
the same fathers and mothers, and made up of the same brittle compounds,
(education all the difference,) nor where the triumph is in subduing
them.
May there not be other Lovelaces, thou askest, who, attracted by her
beauty, may endeavour to prevail with her?*
* See Letter XVIII. of this volume.
No; there cannot, I answer, be such another man, person, mind, fortune,
and thy character, as above given, taken in. If thou imaginest there
could, such is thy pride, that thou wouldst think the worse of thyself.
But let me touch upon thy predominant passion, revenge; for love is but
second to that, as I have often told thee, though it has set thee into
raving at me: what poor pretences for revenge are the difficulties thou
hadst in getting her off; allowing that she had run a risque of being
Solmes's wife, had she staid? If these are other than pretences, why
thankest thou not those who, by their persecutions of her, answered thy
hopes, and threw her into thy power?--Besides, are not the pretences
thou makest for further trial, most ungratefully, as well as
contradictorily founded upon the supposition of error in her, occasioned
by her favour to thee?
And let me, for the utter confusion of thy poor pleas of this nature,
ask thee--Would she, in thy opinion, had she willingly gone off with
thee, have been entitled to better quarter?--For a mistress indeed she
might: but how wouldst thou for a wife have had cause to like her half
so well as now?
Has she not demonstrated, that even the highest provocations were not
sufficient to warp her from her duty to her parents, though a native,
and, as I may say, an originally involuntary duty, because native? And
is not this a charming earnest that she will sacredly observe a still
higher duty into which she proposes to enter, when she does enter, by
plighted vows, and entirely as a volunteer?
That she loves thee, wicked as thou art, and cruel as a panther, there
is no reason to doubt. Yet, what a command has she over herself, that
such a penetrating self-flatterer as thyself is sometimes ready to doubt
it! Though persecuted on the one hand, as she was, by her own family,
and attracted, on the other, by the splendour of thine; every one of
whom courts her to rank herself among them!
Thou wilt perhaps think that I have departed from my proposition, and
pleaded the lady's sake more than thine, in the above--but no such
thing. All that I have written is more in thy behalf than in her's;
since she may make thee happy; but it is next to impossible, I should
think, if she preserve her delicacy, that thou canst make her so. What
is the love of a rakish heart? There cannot be peculiarity in it. But I
need not give my further reasons. Thou wilt have ingenuousness enough, I
dare say, were there occasion for it, to subscribe to my opinion.
I plead not for the state from any great liking to it myself. Nor have
I, at present, thoughts of entering into it. But, as thou art the last
of thy name; as thy family is of note and figure in thy country; and as
thou thyself thinkest that thou shalt one day marry: Is it possible, let
me ask thee, that thou canst have such another opportunity as thou now
hast, if thou lettest this slip? A woman in her family and fortune not
unworthy of thine own (though thou art so apt, from pride of ancestry,
and pride of heart, to speak slightly of the families thou dislikest);
so celebrated for beauty; and so noted at the same time for prudence,
for soul, (I will say, instead of sense,) and for virtue?
If thou art not so narrow-minded an elf, as to prefer thine own single
satisfaction to posterity, thou, who shouldst wish to beget children for
duration, wilt not postpone till the rake's usual time; that is to say,
till diseases or years, or both, lay hold of thee; since in that case
thou wouldst entitle thyself to the curses of thy legitimate progeny
for giving them a being altogether miserable: a being which they will
be obliged to hold upon a worse tenure than that tenant-courtesy,
which thou callest the worst;* to wit, upon the Doctor's courtesy;
thy descendants also propagating (if they shall live, and be able to
propagate) a wretched race, that shall entail the curse, or the reason
for it, upon remote generations.
Wicked as the sober world accounts you and me, we have not yet, it is
to be hoped, got over all compunction. Although we find religion against
us, we have not yet presumed those who do. And we know better than to
be even doubters. In short, we believe a future state of rewards and
punishments. But as we have so much youth and health in hand, we hope to
have time for repentance. That is to say, in plain English, [nor think
thou me too grave, Lovelace: thou art grave sometimes, though not
often,] we hope to live to sense, as long as sense can relish, and
purpose to reform when we can sin no longer.
And shall this admirable woman suffer for her generous endeavours to set
on foot thy reformation; and for insisting upon proofs of the sincerity
of thy professions before she will be thine?
Upon the whole matter, let me wish thee to consider well what thou art
about, before thou goest a step farther in the path which thou hast
chalked out for thyself to tread, and art just going to enter upon.
Hitherto all is so far right, that if the lady mistrusts thy honour, she
has no proofs. Be honest to her, then, in her sense of the word. None of
thy companions, thou knowest, will offer to laugh at what thou dost.
And if they should (of thy entering into a state which has been so much
ridiculed by thee, and by all of us) thou hast one advantage--it is
this, that thou canst not be ashamed.
Deferring to the post-day to close my letter, I find one left at my
cousin Osgood's, with directions to be forwarded to the lady. It
was brought within these two hours by a particular hand, and has a
Harlowe-seal upon it. As it may therefore be of importance, I dispatch
it with my own, by my servant, post-haste.*
* This letter was from Miss Arabella Harlowe. See Let. LV.