Fabrication, Strategy, and Topsight

 

(from Samuel Richardson's Clarissa, Letter CXXIV — Mr. Lovelace to John Belford, Esq.; Everyman, II.490-92)

 

(The rake Lovelace defends his strategy to deceive and seduce Clarissa, by means of the lies and elaborate fabrications he delights in, and protests the accuracy of his plotting genius when Belford upbraids him):

 

Trite, stale, poor (sayest thou) are some of my contrivances? That of the widow particularly? I have no patience with thee. Had not that contrivance its effect at the time, for a procrastination? And had I not then reason to fear that the lady would find enough to make her dislike this house? And was it not right (intending what I intended) to lead her on from time to time, with a notion that a house of her own would be ready for her soon, in order to induce her to continue here till it was?

 

Trite, stale, and poor! Thou art a silly fellow, and no judge, when thou sayest this. Had I not, like a blockhead, revealed to thee, as I went along, the secret purposes of my heart, but had kept all in till the event had explained my mysteries, I would have defied thee to have been able, any more than the lady, to have guessed at what was to befall her, till it had actually come to pass. Nor doubt I, in this case, that, instead of presuming to reflect upon her for credulity, as loving me to her misfortune, and for hoping against probability, thou wouldest have been readier, to censure her for nicety and overscrupulousness. And let me tell thee, that had she loved me as I wished her to love me, she could not possibly have been so very apprehensive of my designs, nor so ready to be influenced by Miss Howe's precautions, as she has always been, although my general character made not for me with her.

 

But in thy opinion, I suffer for that simplicity in my contrivances, which is their principal excellence. No machinery make I necessary. No unnatural flights aim I at. All pure nature, taking advantage of nature, as nature tends; and so simple my devices, that when they are known, thou, even thou, imaginest thou couldest have thought of the same. An indeed thou seemest to own, that the slight thou puttest upon them is owing to my letting thee into them beforehand—undistinguishing as well as ungrateful as thou art!

 

Yet, after all, I would not have thee think that I do not know my weak places. I have formerly told you, that it is difficult for the ablest general to say what he will do, or what he can do, when he is obliged to regulate his motions by those of a watchful enemy. If thou givest due weight to this consideration, thou wilt not wonder that I should make many marches and countermarches, some of which may appear to a slight observer unnecessary.

 

But let me cursorily enter into debate with thee on this subject, now that I am within sight of my journey's end.

 

Abundance of impertinent things thou tellest me in this letter; some of which thou hadst from myself; others that I knew before.

 

All that thou sayest in this charming creature's praise, is short of what I have said and written on the inexhaustible subject.

 

Her virtue, her resistance, which are her merits, are my stimulatives. Have I not told thee so twenty times over?

 

Devil, as these girls between them call me, what of devil am I, but in my contrivances? I am not more of a devil than others, in the end I aim at; for when I have carried my point, it is still but one seduction. And I have perhaps been spared the guilt of many seductions in the time.

 

What of uncommon would there be in this case, but for her watchfulness? As well as I love intrigue and stratagem, dost think that I had not rather have gained my end with less trouble and less guilt?

 

The man, let me tell thee, who is as wicked as he can be, is a worse man than I am. Let me ask any rake in England, if, resolving to carry his point, he would have been so long about it? Or have had so much compunction as I have had?

 

Were every rake, nay, were every man, to sit down, as I do, and write all that enters into his head or into his heart, and to accuse himself with equal freedom and truth, what an army of miscreants should I have to keep me in countenance!

 

 

—oOo—