Your ever affectionate
CL. HARLOWE.
***
[Mr. Lovelace, in his next letter, triumphs on his having carried his two
great points of making the Lady yield to pass for his wife to the
people of the house, and to his taking up his lodging in it, though
but for one night. He is now, he says, in a fair way, and doubts not
but that he shall soon prevail, if not by persuasion, by surprise.
Yet he pretends to have some little remorse, and censures himself as
to acting the part of the grand tempter. But having succeeded thus
far, he cannot, he says, forbear trying, according to the resolution
he had before made, whether he cannot go farther.
He gives the particulars of their debates on the above-mentioned
subjects, to the same effect as in the Lady's last letters.
It will by this time be seen that his whole merit, with regard to the
Lady, lies in doing justice to her excellencies both of mind and
person, though to his own condemnation. Thus he begins his succeeding
letter:]
And now, Belford, will I give thee an account of our first breakfast-
conversation.
All sweetly serene and easy was the lovely brow and charming aspect of my
goddess, on her descending among us; commanding reverence from every eye,
a courtesy from every knee, and silence, awful silence, from every
quivering lip: while she, armed with conscious worthiness and
superiority, looked and behaved as an empress would look and behave among
her vassals; yet with a freedom from pride and haughtiness, as if born to
dignity, and to a behaviour habitually gracious.
[He takes notice of the jealousy, pride, and vanity of Sally Martin and
Polly Horton, on his respectful behaviour to the Lady: creatures who,
brought up too high for their fortunes, and to a taste of pleasure,
and the public diversions, had fallen an easy prey to his seducing
arts (as will be seen in the conclusion of this work:) and who, as he
observed, 'had not yet got over that distinction in their love, which
makes a woman prefer one man to another.']
How difficult is it, says he, to make a woman subscribe to a preference
against herself, though ever so visible; especially where love is
concerned! This violent, this partial little devil, Sally, has the
insolence to compare herself with my angel--yet owns her to be an angel.
I charge you, Mr. Lovelace, say she, show none of your extravagant acts
of kindness before me to this sullen, this gloomy beauty--I cannot bear
it. Then was I reminded of her first sacrifice.
What a rout do these women make about nothing at all! Were it not for
what the learned Bishop, in his Letter from Italy, calls the
entanglements of amour, and I the delicacies of intrigue, what is there,
Belford, in all they can do for us?
How do these creatures endeavour to stimulate me! A fallen woman is a
worse devil than ever a profligate man. The former is incapable of
remorse: that am not I--nor ever shall they prevail upon me, though aided
by all the powers of darkness, to treat this admirable creature with
indignity--so far, I mean, as indignity can be separated from the trials
which will prove her to be either woman or angel.
Yet with them I am a craven. I might have had her before now, if I
would. If I would treat her as flesh and blood, I should find her such.
They thought I knew, if any man living did, that if a man made a goddess
of a woman, she would assume the goddess; that if power were given to
her, she would exert that power to the giver, if to nobody else. And
D----r's wife is thrown into my dish, who, thou knowest, kept her
ceremonious husband at haughty distance, and whined in private to her
insulting footman. O how I cursed the blasphemous wretches! They will
make me, as I tell them, hate their house, and remove from it. And by my
soul, Jack, I am ready at times to think that I should not have brought
her hither, were it but on Sally's account. And yet, without knowing
either Sally's heart, or Polly's, the dear creature resolves against
having any conversation with them but such as she can avoid. I am not
sorry for this, thou mayest think; since jealousy in a woman is not to be
concealed from woman. And Sally has no command of herself.
What dost think!--Here this little devil Sally, not being able, as she
told me, to support life under my displeasure, was going into a fit: but
when I saw her preparing for it, I went out of the room; and so she
thought it would not be worth her while to show away.
[In this manner he mentions what his meaning was in making the Lady the
compliment of his absence:]
As to leaving her: if I go but for one night, I have fulfilled my
promise: and if she think not, I can mutter and grumble, and yield again,
and make a merit of it; and then, unable to live out of her presence,
soon return. Nor are women ever angry at bottom for being disobeyed
through excess of love. They like an uncontroulable passion. They like
to have every favour ravished from them, and to be eaten and drunk quite
up by a voracious lover. Don't I know the sex?--Not so, indeed, as yet,
my Clarissa: but, however, with her my frequent egresses will make me
look new to her, and create little busy scenes between us. At the least,
I may surely, without exception, salute her at parting, and at return;
and will not those occasional freedoms (which civility will warrant) by
degrees familiarize my charmer to them?
But here, Jack, what shall I do with my uncle and aunts, and all my
loving cousins? For I understand that they are more in haste to have me
married than I am myself.