Chapter 29
letter twenty-nine of clarissa harlow or the history of a young lady vol 7 letter twenty-nine mr lovelace to john belford esq friday night july twenty-first i will throw away a few paragraphs upon the contents of thy last shocking letters just brought me and send what i shall write by the fellow who carries mine on the interview with hickman reformation i see is coming fast upon thee thy uncle's slow death and thy attendance upon him through every stage towards it prepared thee for it but go thou on in thine own way as i will in mine happiness consists in being pleased with what we do and if thou canst find delight in being sad it will be as well for thee as if thou wert merry though no other person should join to keep thee in countenance i am nevertheless exceedingly disturbed at the lady's ill health it is entirely owing to the cursed arrest she was absolutely triumphant over me and the whole crew before thou believest me guiltless of that so i hope does she the rest as i have often said is a common case only a little uncommonly circumstanced that's all why then all these severe things from her and from thee as to selling her clothes and her laces and so forth it has i own a shocking sound to it what an implacable as well as unjust set of wretches are those of her unkindredly kin who have money of hers in their hands as well as large arrears of her own estate yet withhold both avowedly to distress her
but may she not have money of that proud and saucy friend of hers miss howe more than she wants and should not i be overjoyed thinkest thou to serve her what then is there in the parting with her apparel but female perverseness and i am not sure whether i ought not to be glad if she does this out of spite to me some disappointed fair ones would have hanged some drowned themselves my beloved only revenges herself upon her clothes different ways of working has passion in different bosoms as humours or complexion induce besides doth think i shall grudge to replace to three times the value what she disposes of so jack there is no great matter in this thou seest how sensible she is of the soothings of the polite doctor this will enable thee to judge how dreadfully the horrid arrest and her gloomy father's curse must have hurt her i have great hope if she will but see me that my behaviour my contrition my soothings may have some happy effect upon her but thou art too ready to give up let me seriously tell thee that all excellence as she is i think the earnest interposition of my relations the implored mediation of that little fury miss howe and the commissions thou actest under from myself are such instances of condescension and high value in them and such contrition in me that nothing further can be done so here let the matter rest for the present till she considers better of it but now a few words upon poor belton's case
i own i was at first a little startled at the disloyalty of his thomasine her hypocrisy to be for so many years undetected i have very lately had some intimations given me of her vileness and had intended to mention them to thee when i saw thee to say the truth i always suspected her eye the eye thou knowest is the casement at which the heart generally looks out many a woman who will not show herself at the door has tipped the sly the intelligible wink from the windows but tom had no management at all a very callous fellow would never look into his own affairs the estate his uncle left him was his ruin wife or mistress whoever was must have had his fortune to sport with i have often hinted his weakness of this sort to him and the danger he was in of becoming the property of designing people but he hated to take pains he would ever run away from his accounts as now a poor fellow he would be glad to do from himself had he not had a woman to fleece him his coachman or valet would have been his prime minister and done it as effectually but yet for many years i thought she was true to his bed at least i thought the boys were his own for though they are muscular and big-boned yet i suppose the healthy mother might have furnished them with legs and shoulders for she is not of a delicate frame and then tom some years ago looked up and spoke more like a man than he has done of late squeaking inwardly poor fellow for some time past from contracted quail pipes and wheezing from lungs half spit away he complains thou sayest that we all run away from him
Why, after all, Belford, it is no pleasant thing to see a poor fellow one loves, dying by inches, yet unable to do him good. There are friendships which are only bottle deep. I should be loath to have it thought that mine for any of my vassals is such a one, yet with gay hearts, which become intimate because they were gay, the reason for their first intimacy ceasing, the friendship will fade. But may not this sort of friendship be more properly distinguished by the word companionship? But mine, as I said, is deeper than this. I would still be as ready as ever I was in my life, to the utmost of my power, to do him service.
As one's instance of this my readiness to extricate him from all his difficulties as to Thomasine, dost thou care to propose to him an expedient that is just come into my head? It is this. I would engage Thomasine and her cubs, if Belton be convinced they are neither of them
his, in a party of pleasure. She was always complacent to me. It should be in a boat, hired for the purpose to sail to Tilbury, to the Isle Sheppey, or pleasuring up the Medway, and tis but contriving to turn the boat bottom upward.
I can swim like a fish. Another boat shall be ready to take up whom I should direct, for fear of the worst. And then, if Tom has a mind to be decent, one suit of mourning will serve for all three.
Nay, the hostler cousin may take his plunge from the steerage, and who knows, but they may be thrown up on the beach, Thomasine and he, hand in hand. This, I'll say, is no common instance of friendship. Meantime, do thou prevail on him to come down to us?
He never was more welcome in his life than he shall be now. If he will not, let him find me some other service, and I will clap a pair of wings to my shoulders, and he shall see me come flying in at his windows at the word of command. Mowbray and Tourville each intend to give thee a letter,
and I leave to those rough farlets to handle thee as thou deservest, for the shocking picture thou hast drawn of their last ends. Thy own past guilt has stared thee full in the face, one may see by it, and made thee, in consciousness of thy demerits, sketch out these cursed outlines. I am glad thou hast got the old fiend to hold the glass before thy own face so soon.
Thou must be in earnest surely when thou wrotest it, and have severe conviction upon thee, for what a hardened varlet must he be, who could draw such a picture as this in sport. As for thy resolution of repenting and marrying, I would have thee consider which thou wilt set about first. If thou wilt follow my advice, thou shalt make short work of it. Let matrimony take place of the other, for then thou wilt very possibly have repentance come tumbling in
fast upon thee as a consequence, and so have both in one. End of letter 29
