MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 3.
When I have already taken pains to acquaint thee in full with regard to
my views, designs, and resolutions, with regard to this admirable woman,
it is very extraordinary that thou shouldst vapour as thou dost in her
behalf, when I have made no trial, no attempt: and yet, givest it as thy
opinion in a former letter, that advantage may be taken of the situation
she is in; and that she may be overcome.
Most of thy reflections, particularly that which respects the difference
as to the joys to be given by the virtuous and libertine of her sex, are
fitter to come in as after-reflections than as antecedencies.
I own with thee, and with the poet, that sweet are the joys that come
with willingness--But is it to be expected, that a woman of education,
and a lover of forms, will yield before she is attacked? And have I so
much as summoned this to surrender? I doubt not but I shall meet with
difficulty. I must therefore make my first effort by surprise. There
may possibly be some cruelty necessary: but there may be consent in
struggle; there may be yielding in resistance. But the first conflict
over, whether the following may not be weaker and weaker, till
willingness ensue, is the point to be tried. I will illustrate what I
have said by the simile of a bird new caught. We begin, when boys, with
birds; and when grown up, go on to women; and both perhaps, in turn,
experience our sportive cruelty.
Hast thou not observed, the charming gradations by which the ensnared
volatile has been brought to bear with its new condition? how, at first,
refusing all sustenance, it beats and bruises itself against its wires,
till it makes its gay plumage fly about, and over-spread its well-secured
cage. Now it gets out its head; sticking only at its beautiful
shoulders: then, with difficulty, drawing back its head, it gasps for
breath, and erectly perched, with meditating eyes, first surveys, and
then attempts, its wired canopy. As it gets its pretty head and sides,
bites the wires, and pecks at the fingers of its delighted tamer. Till
at last, finding its efforts ineffectual, quite tired and breathless, it
lays itself down, and pants at the bottom of the cage, seeming to bemoan
its cruel fate and forfeited liberty. And after a few days, its
struggles to escape still diminishing as it finds it to no purpose to
attempt it, its new habitation becomes familiar; and it hops about from
perch to perch, resumes its wonted cheerfulness, and every day sings a
song to amuse itself and reward its keeper.
Now let me tell thee, that I have known a bird actually starve itself, and
die with grief, at its being caught and caged. But never did I meet with
a woman who was so silly.--Yet have I heard the dear souls most
vehemently threaten their own lives on such an occasion. But it is
saying nothing in a woman's favour, if we do not allow her to have more
sense than a bird. And yet we must all own, that it is more difficult to
catch a bird than a lady.
To pursue the comparison--If the disappointment of the captivated lady be
very great, she will threaten, indeed, as I said: she will even refuse
her sustenance for some time, especially if you entreat her much, and she
thinks she gives you concern by her refusal. But then the stomach of the
dear sullen one will soon return. 'Tis pretty to see how she comes to by
degrees: pressed by appetite, she will first steal, perhaps, a weeping
morsel by herself; then be brought to piddle and sigh, and sigh and
piddle before you; now-and-then, if her viands be unsavoury, swallowing
with them a relishing tear or two: then she comes to eat and drink, to
oblige you: then resolves to live for your sake: her exclamations will,
in the next place, be turned into blandishments; her vehement upbraidings
into gentle murmuring--how dare you, traitor!--into how could you,
dearest! She will draw you to her, instead of pushing you from her: no
longer, with unsheathed claws, will she resist you; but, like a pretty,
playful, wanton kitten, with gentle paws, and concealed talons, tap your
cheek, and with intermingled smiles, and tears, and caresses, implore
your consideration for her, and your constancy: all the favour she then
has to ask of you!--And this is the time, were it given to man to confine
himself to one object, to be happier every day than another.
Now, Belford, were I to go no farther than I have gone with my beloved
Miss Harlowe, how shall I know the difference between her and another
bird? To let her fly now, what a pretty jest would that be!--How do I
know, except I try, whether she may not be brought to sing me a fine
song, and to be as well contented as I have brought other birds to be,
and very shy ones too?
But now let us reflect a little upon the confounded partiality of us
human creatures. I can give two or three familiar, and if they were not
familiar, they would be shocking, instances of the cruelty both of men
and women, with respect to other creatures, perhaps as worthy as (at
least more innocent than) themselves. By my soul, Jack, there is more of
the savage on human nature than we are commonly aware of. Nor is it,
after all, so much amiss, that we sometimes avenge the more innocent
animals upon our own species.
To particulars:
How usual a thing is it for women as well as men, without the least
remorse, to ensnare, to cage, and torment, and even with burning
knitting-needles to put out the eyes of the poor feather'd songster [thou
seest I have not yet done with birds]; which however, in proportion to
its bulk, has more life than themselves (for a bird is all soul;) and of
consequence has as much feeling as the human creature! when at the same
time, if an honest fellow, by the gentlest persuasion, and the softest
arts, has the good luck to prevail upon a mew'd-up lady, to countenance
her own escape, and she consents to break cage, and be set a flying into
the all-cheering air of liberty, mercy on us! what an outcry is generally
raised against him!
Just like what you and I once saw raised in a paltry village near
Chelmsford, after a poor hungry fox, who, watching his opportunity, had
seized by the neck, and shouldered a sleek-feathered goose: at what time
we beheld the whole vicinage of boys and girls, old men, and old women,
all the furrows and wrinkles of the latter filled up with malice for the
time; the old men armed with prongs, pitch-forks, clubs, and catsticks;
the old women with mops, brooms, fire-shovels, tongs, and pokers; and the
younger fry with dirt, stones, and brickbats, gathering as they ran like
a snowball, in pursuit of the wind-outstripping prowler; all the mongrel
curs of the circumjacencies yelp, yelp, yelp, at their heels, completing
the horrid chorus.
Rememebrest thou not this scene? Surely thou must. My imagination,
inflamed by a tender sympathy for the danger of the adventurous marauder,
represents it to my eye as if it were but yesterday. And dost thou not
recollect how generously glad we were, as if our own case, that honest
reynard, by the help of a lucky stile, over which both old and young
tumbled upon one another, and a winding course, escaped their brutal
fury, and flying catsticks; and how, in fancy, we followed him to his
undiscovered retreat; and imagined we beheld the intrepid thief enjoying
his dear-earned purchase with a delight proportioned to his past danger?
I once made a charming little savage severely repent the delight she took
in seeing her tabby favourite make cruel sport with a pretty sleek bead-
eyed mouse, before she devoured it. Egad, my love, said I to myself, as
I sat meditating the scene, I am determined to lie in wait for a fit
opportunity to try how thou wilt like to be tost over my head, and be
caught again: how thou wilt like to be parted from me, and pulled to me.
Yet will I rather give life than take it away, as this barbarous
quadruped has at last done by her prey. And after all was over between
my girl and me, I reminded her of the incident to which my resolution was
owing.
Nor had I at another time any mercy upon the daughter of an old epicure,
who had taught the girl, without the least remorse, to roast lobsters
alive; to cause a poor pig to be whipt to death; to scrape carp the
contrary way of the scales, making them leap in the stew-pan, and
dressing them in their own blood for sauce. And this for luxury-sake,
and to provoke an appetite; which I had without stimulation, in my way,
and that I can tell thee a very ravenous one.
Many more instances of the like nature could I give, were I to leave
nothing to thyself, to shew that the best take the same liberties, and
perhaps worse, with some sort of creatures, that we take with others; all
creatures still! and creatures too, as I have observed above, replete
with strong life, and sensible feeling!--If therefore people pretend to
mercy, let mercy go through all their actions. I have heard somewhere,
that a merciful man is merciful to his beast.
So much at present for those parts of thy letter in which thou urgest to
me motives of compassion for the lady.
But I guess at thy principal motive in this thy earnestness in behalf of
this charming creature. I know that thou correspondest with Lord M. who
is impatient, and has long been desirous to see me shackled. And thou
wantest to make a merit with the uncle, with a view to one of his nieces.
But knowest thou not, that my consent will be wanting to complete thy
wishes?--And what a commendation will it be of thee to such a girl as
Charlotte, when I shall acquaint her with the affront thou puttest upon
the whole sex, by asking, Whether I think my reward, when I have subdued
the most charming woman in the world, will be equal to my trouble?--
Which, thinkest thou, will a woman of spirit soonest forgive; the
undervaluing varlet who can put such a question; or him, who prefers the
pursuit and conquest of a fine woman to all the joys of life? Have I not
known even a virtuous woman, as she would be thought, vow everlasting
antipathy to a man who gave out that she was too old for him to attempt?
And did not Essex's personal reflection on Queen Elizabeth, that she was
old and crooked, contribute more to his ruin than his treason?
But another word or two, as to thy objection relating to my trouble and
reward.
Does not the keen fox-hunter endanger his neck and his bones in pursuit
of a vermin, which, when killed, is neither fit food for men nor dogs?
Do not the hunters of the noble game value the venison less than the
sport?
Why then should I be reflected upon, and the sex affronted, for my
patience and perseverance in the most noble of all chases; and for not
being a poacher in love, as thy question be made to imply?
Learn of thy master, for the future, to treat more respectfully a sex
that yields us our principal diversions and delights.
Proceed anon.