9. CHAPTER IX.
Containing love-letters of several sorts
Mr. Jones, at his return home, found the following letters lying
on his table, which he luckily opened in the order they were sent.
LETTER I.
'Surely I am under some strange infatuation; I cannot keep my
resolutions a moment, however strong made or justly founded. Last
night I resolved never to see you more; this morning I am willing to
hear if you can, as you say, clear up this affair. And yet I know that
to be impossible. I have said everything to myself which you can
invent.-- Perhaps not. Perhaps your invention is stronger. Come to me,
therefore, the moment you receive this. If you can forge an excuse,
I almost promise you to believe it. Betrayed too- I will think no
more.-- Come to me directly.-- This is the third letter I have writ,
the two former are burnt-- I am almost inclined to burn this too-I
wish I may preserve senses.-- Come to me presently."
LETTER II.
"If you ever expect to be forgiven, or even suffered within my doors,
come to me this instant."
LETTER III.
"I now find you was not at home when my notes came to your
lodgings. The moment you receive this let me see you;-- I shall not
stir out; nor shall anybody be let in but yourself. Sure nothing can
detain you long."
Jones had just read over these three billets, when Mr. Nightingale
came into the room. "Well, Tom," said he, "any news from Lady
Bellaston, after last night's adventure?" (for it was now no secret to
any one in that house who the lady was). "The Lady Bellaston?"
answered Jones very gravely.-- "Nay, dear Tom," cries Nightingale,
"don't be so reserved to your friends. Though I was too drunk to see
her last night, I saw her at the masquerade. Do you think I am
ignorant who the queen of the fairies is?" "And did you really then
know the lady at the masquerade?" said Jones. "Yes, upon my soul,
did I," said Nightingale, "and have given you twenty hints of it
since, though you seemed always so tender on that point, that I
would not speak plainly. I fancy, my friend, by your extreme nicety in
this matter, you are not so well acquainted with the character of
the lady as with her person. Don't be angry, Tom, but upon my
honour, you are not the first young fellow she hath debauched. Her
reputation is in no danger, believe me."
Though Jones had no reason to imagine the lady to have been of the
vestal kind when his amour began; yet, as he was thoroughly ignorant
of the town, and had very little acquaintance in it, he had no
knowledge of that character which is vulgarly called a demirep; that
is to say, a woman who intrigues with every man she likes, under the
name and appearance of virtue; and who, though some overnice ladies
will not be seen with her, is visited (as they term it) by the whole
town, in short, whom everybody knows to be what nobody calls her.
When he found, therefore, that Nightingale was perfectly
acquainted with his intrigue, and began to suspect that so
scrupulous a delicacy as he had hitherto observed was not quite
necessary on the occasion, he gave a latitude to his friend's
tongue, and desired him to speak plainly what he knew, or had ever
heard of the lady.
Nightingale, who, in many other instances, was rather too effeminate
in his disposition, had a pretty strong inclination to
tittle-tattle. He had no sooner, therefore, received a full liberty of
speaking from Jones, than he entered upon a long narrative
concerning the lady; which, as it contained many particulars highly to
her dishonour, we have too great a tenderness for all women of
condition to repeat. We would cautiously avoid giving an opportunity
to the future commentators on our works, of making any malicious
application, and of forcing us to be, against our will, the author
of scandal, which never entered into our head.
Jones, having very attentively heard all that Nightingale had to
say, fetched a deep sigh; which the other, observing, cried,
"Heyday! why, thou art not in love, I hope! Had I imagined my
stories would have affected you, I promise you should never have heard
them." "O my dear friend!" cries Jones, "I am so entangled with this
woman, that I know not how to extricate myself. In love, indeed! no,
my friend, but I am under obligations to her, and very great ones.
Since you know so much, I will be very explicit with you. It is owing,
perhaps, solely to her, that I have not, before this, wanted a bit
of bread. How can I possibly desert such a woman? and yet I must
desert her, or be guilty of the blackest treachery to one who deserves
infinitely better of me than she can; a woman, my Nightingale, for
whom I have a passion which few can have an idea of. I am half
distracted with doubts how to act." "And is this other, pray, an
honourable mistress?" cries Nightingale. "Honourable!" answered Jones;
"no breath ever yet durst sully her reputation. The sweetest air is
not purer, the limpid stream not clearer, than her honour. She is
all over, both in mind and body, consummate perfection. She is the
most beautiful creature in the universe: and yet she is mistress of
such noble elevated qualities, that, though she is never from my
thoughts, I scarce ever think of her beauty but when I see it."- "And
can you, my good friend," cries Nightingale, "with such an
engagement as this upon your hands, hesitate a moment about quitting
such a-" "Hold," said Jones, "no more abuse of her: I detest the
thought of ingratitude." "Pooh!" answered the other, "you are not
the first upon whom she hath conferred obligations of this kind. She
is remarkably liberal where she likes; though, let me tell you, her
favours are so prudently bestowed, that they should rather raise a
man's vanity than his gratitude." In short, Nightingale proceeded so
far on this head, and told his friend so many stories of the lady,
which he swore to the truth of, that he entirely removed all esteem
for her from the breast of Jones; and his gratitude was lessened in
proportion. Indeed, he began to look on all the favours he had
received rather as wages than benefits, which depreciated not only
her, but himself too in his own conceit, and put him quite out of
humour with both. From this digust, his mind, by a natural transition,
turned towards Sophia; her virtue, her purity, her love to him, her
sufferings on his account, filled all his thoughts, and made his
commerce with Lady Bellaston appear still more odious. The result of
all was, that, though his turning himself out of her service, in which
light he now saw his affair with her, would be the loss of his
bread; yet he determined to quit her, if he could but find a
handsome pretence: which being communicated to his friend, Nightingale
considered a little, and then said, "I have it, my boy! I have found
out a sure method; propose marriage to her, and I would venture
hanging upon the success." "Marriage?" cries Jones. "Ay, propose
marriage," answered Nightingale, "and she will declare off in a
moment. I knew a young fellow whom she kept formerly, who made the
offer to her in earnest, and was presently turned off for his pains."
Jones declared he could not venture the experiment. "Perhaps,"
said he, "she may be less shocked at this proposal from one man than
from another. And if she should take me at my word, where am I then?
caught in my own trap, and undone for ever." "No," answered
Nightingale, "not if I can give you an expedient by which you may at
any time get out of the trap."-- "What expedient can that be?" replied
Jones. "This," answered Nightingale. "The young fellow I mentioned,
who is one of the most intimate acquaintances I have in the world,
is so angry with her for some ill offices she hath since done him,
that I am sure he would, without any difficulty, give you a sight of
her letters; upon which you may decently break with her; and declare
off before the knot is tied, if she should really be willing to tie
it, which I am convinced she will not."
After some hesitation, Jones, upon the strength of this assurance,
consented; but, as he swore he wanted the confidence to propose the
matter to her face, he wrote the following letter, which Nightingale
dictated:-
"MADAM,
"I am extremely concerned, that, by an unfortunate engagement abroad,
I should have missed receiving the honour of your ladyship's
commands the moment they came; and the delay which I must now suffer
of vindicating myself to your ladyship greatly adds to this
misfortune. O, Lady Bellaston! what a terror have I been in, for
fear your reputation should be exposed by these perverse accidents!
There is one only way to secure it. I need not name what that is. Only
permit me to say, that as your honour is as dear to me as my own, so
my sole ambition is to have the glory of laying my liberty at your
feet; and believe me when I assure you, I can never be made completely
happy, without you generously bestow on me a legal right of calling
you mine for ever.- I am, madam, with most profound respect, your ladyship's
most obliged, obedient, humble servant,
THOMAS JONES"
To this she presently returned the following answer:
"SIR,
"When I read over your serious epistle, I could, from its coldness
and formality, have sworn that you already had the legal right you
mention; nay, that we had for many years composed that monstrous
animal a husband and wife. Do you really then imagine me a fool? or do
you fancy yourself capable of so entirely persuading me out of my
senses, that I should deliver my whole fortune into your power, in
order to enable you to support your pleasures at my expense? Are these
the proofs of love which I expected? Is this the return for--? but I
scorn to upbraid you, and am in great admiration of your profound
respect.
"P.S. I am prevented from revising:-- Perhaps I have said more than I
meant.-- Come to me at eight this evening."
Jones, by the advice of his privy-council, replied:
"MADAM,
"It is impossible to express how much I am shocked at the suspicion
you entertain of me. Can Lady Bellaston have conferred favours on a
man whom she could believe capable of so base a design? or can she
treat the most solemn tie of love with contempt? Can you imagine,
madam, that if the violence of my passion, in an unguarded moment,
overcame the tenderness which I have for your honour, I would think of
indulging myself in the continuance of an intercourse which could
not possibly escape long the notice of the world; and which, when
discovered, must prove so fatal to your reputation? If such be your
opinion of me, I must pray for a sudden opportunity of returning those
pecuniary obligations, which I have been so unfortunate to receive
at your hands; and for those of a more tender kind, I shall ever
remain, etc." And so concluded in the very words with which he had
concluded the former letter.
The lady answered as follows:
"I see you are a villain! and I despise you from my soul. If you come
here I shall not be at home."
Though Jones was well satisfied with his deliverance from a thraldom
which those who have ever experienced it will, I apprehend, allow to
be none of the lightest, he was not, however, perfectly easy in his
mind. There was in this scheme too much of fallacy to satisfy one
who utterly detested every species of falshood or dishonesty: nor
would he, indeed, have submitted to put it in practice, had he not
been involved in a distressful situation, where he was obliged to be
guilty of some dishonour, either to the one lady or the other; and
surely the reader will allow, that every good principle, as well as
love, pleaded strongly in favour of Sophia.
Nightingale highly exulted in the success of his stratagem, upon
which he received many thanks and much applause from his friend. He
answered, "Dear Tom, we have conferred very different obligations on
each other. To me you owe the regaining your liberty; to you I owe the
loss of mine. But if you are as happy in the one instance as I am in
the other, I promise you we are the two happiest fellows in England."
The two gentlemen were now summoned down to dinner, where Mrs.
Miller, who performed herself the office of cook, had exerted her best
talents to celebrate the wedding of her daughter. This joyful
circumstance she ascribed principally to the friendly behaviour of
Jones; her whole soul was fired with gratitude towards him, and all
her looks, words, and actions, were so busied in expressing it, that
her daughter, and even her new son-in-law, were very little objects of
her consideration.
Dinner was just ended when Mrs. Miller received a letter; but as
we have had letters enow in this chapter, we shall communicate its
contents in our next.