Volume V Part 14 (1/2)
Nay, was it not he himself that brought to me my adorable Nemesis; and both together put me upon this very vow, 'That I would never rest till I had drawn in this G.o.ddess-daughter of the Harlowes to cohabit with me; and that in the face of all their proud family?'
Nor canst thou forget this vow. At this instant I have thee before me, as then thou sorrowfully lookedst. Thy strong features glowing with compa.s.sion for me; thy lips twisted; thy forehead furrowed; thy whole face drawn out from the stupid round into the ghastly oval; every muscle contributing its power to complete the aspect grievous; and not one word couldst thou utter, but Amen! to my vow.
And what of distinguis.h.i.+ng love, or favour, or confidence, have I had from her since, to make me forego this vow!
I renewed it not, indeed, afterwards; and actually, for a long season, was willing to forget it; till repet.i.tions of the same faults revived the remembrance of the former. And now adding to those the contents of some of Miss Howe's virulent letters, so lately come at, what canst thou say for the rebel, consistent with thy loyalty to thy friend?
Every man to his genius and const.i.tution. Hannibal was called The father of warlike stratagems. Had Hannibal been a private man, and turned his plotting head against the other s.e.x; or had I been a general, and, turned mine against such of my fellow-creatures of my own, as I thought myself ent.i.tled to consider as my enemies, because they were born and lived in a different climate; Hannibal would have done less mischief; Lovelace more.--That would have been the difference.
Not a sovereign on earth, if he be not a good man, and if he be of a warlike temper, but must do a thousand times more mischief than I. And why? Because he has it in his power to do more.
An honest man, perhaps thou'lt say, will not wish to have it in his power to do hurt. He ought not, let me tell him: for, if he have it, a thousand to one but it makes him both wanton and wicked.
In what, then, am I so singularly vile?
In my contrivances thou wilt say, (for thou art my echo,) if not in my proposed end of them.
How difficult does every man find it, as well as I, to forego a predominant pa.s.sion! I have three pa.s.sions that sway me by turns; all imperial ones--love, revenge, ambition or a desire of conquest.
As to this particular contrivance of Tomlinson and the uncle, which perhaps thou wilt think a black one; that had been spared, had not these innocent ladies put me upon finding a husband for their Mrs. Townsend: that device, therefore, is but a preventive one. Thinkest thou that I could bear to be outwitted? And may not this very contrivance save a world of mischief? for dost thou think I would have tamely given up the lady to Townsend's tars?
What meanest thou, except to overthrow thy own plea, when thou sayest, that men of our cast know no other bound to their wickedness, but want of power; yet knowest this lady to be in mine?
Enough, sayest thou, have I tried this paragon of virtue. Not so; for I have not tried her at all--all I have been doing is but preparation to a trial.
But thou art concerned for the means that I may have recourse to in the trial, and for my veracity.
Silly fellow!--Did ever any man, thinkest thou, deceive a woman, but at the expense of his veracity; how, otherwise, can he be said to deceive?
As to the means, thou dost not imagine that I expect a direct consent.
My main hope is but in a yielding reluctance; without which I will be sworn, whatever rapes have been attempted, none ever were committed, one person to one person. And good Queen Bess of England, had she been living, and appealed to, would have declared herself of my mind.
It would not be amiss for the s.e.x to know what our opinions are upon this subject. I love to warn them. I wish no man to succeed with them but myself. I told thee once, that though a rake, I am not a rake's friend.*
* See Vol. III. Letter XVIII.
Thou sayest, that I ever hated wedlock. And true thou sayest. And yet as true, when thou tellest me, that I would rather marry than lose this lady. And will she detest me for ever, thinkest thou, if I try her, and succeed not?--Take care--take care, Jack!--Seest thou not that thou warnest me that I do not try without resolving to conquer?
I must add, that I have for some time been convinced that I have done wrong to scribble to thee so freely as I have done (and the more so, if I make the lady legally mine); for has not every letter I have written to thee been a bill of indictment against myself? I may partly curse my vanity for it; and I think I will refrain for the future; for thou art really very impertinent.
A good man, I own, might urge many of the things thou urgest; but, by my soul, they come very awkwardly from thee. And thou must be sensible, that I can answer every t.i.ttle of what you writest, upon the foot of the maxims we have long held and pursued.--By the specimen above, thou wilt see that I can.
And pr'ythee tell me, Jack, what but this that follows would have been the epitome of mine and my beloved's story, after ten years'
cohabitation, had I never written to thee upon the subject, and had I not been my own accuser?