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<h2> LETTER LII </h2>
<p>MR. BELFORD, TO LORD M. LONDON, TUESDAY NIGHT, OCT. 3.</p>
<p>MY LORD,</p>
<p>I obey your Lordship's commands with great pleasure.</p>
<p>Yesterday in the afternoon Mr. Lovelace made me a visit at my lodgings. As
I was in expectation of one from Colonel Morden about the same time, I
thought proper to carry him to a tavern which neither of us frequented,
(on pretence of a half-appointment;) ordering notice to be sent me
thither, if the Colonel came; and Mr. Lovelace sent to Mowbray, and
Tourville, and Mr. Doleman of Uxbridge, (who came to town to take leave of
him,) to let them know where to find us.</p>
<p>Mr. Lovelace is too well recovered, I was going to say. I never saw him
more gay, lively, and handsome. We had a good deal of bluster about some
parts of the trust I had engaged in; and upon freedoms I had treated him
with; in which, he would have it, that I had exceeded our agreed-upon
limits; but on the arrival of our three old companions, and a nephew of
Mr. Doleman's, (who had a good while been desirous to pass an hour with
Mr. Lovelace,) it blew off for the present.</p>
<p>Mr. Mowbray and Mr. Tourville had also taken some exceptions at the
freedoms of my pen; and Mr. Lovelace, after his way, took upon him to
reconcile us; and did it at the expense of all three; and with such an
infinite run of humour and raillery, that we had nothing to do but to
laugh at what he said, and at one another. I can deal tolerably with him
at my pen; but in conversation he has no equal. In short, it was his day.
He was glad, he said, to find himself alive; and his two friends, clapping
and rubbing their hands twenty times in an hour, declared, that now, once
more, he was all himself—the charming'st fellow in the world; and
they would follow him to the farthest part of the globe.</p>
<p>I threw a bur upon his coat now-and-then; but none would stick.</p>
<p>Your Lordship knows, that there are many things which occasion a roar of
applause in conversation, when the heart is open, and men are resolved to
be merry, which will neither bear repeating, nor thinking of afterwards.
Common things, in the mouth of a man we admire, and whose wit has passed
upon us for sterling, become, in a gay hour, uncommon. We watch every turn
of such a one's countenance, and are resolved to laugh when he smiles,
even before he utters what we are expecting to flow from his lips.</p>
<p>Mr. Doleman and his nephew took leave of us by twelve, Mowbray and
Tourville grew very noisy by one, and were carried off by two. Wine never
moves Mr. Lovelace, notwithstanding a vivacity which generally helps on
over-gay spirits. As to myself, the little part I had taken in the gaiety
kept me unconcerned.</p>
<p>The clock struck three before I could get him into any serious or
attentive way—so natural to him is gaiety of heart; and such strong
hold had the liveliness of the evening taken of him. His conversation, you
know, my Lord, when his heart is free, runs off to the bottom without any
dregs.</p>
<p>But after that hour, and when we thought of parting, he became a little
more serious: and then he told me his designs, and gave me a plan of his
intended tour; wishing heartily that I could have accompanied him.</p>
<p>We parted about four; he not a little dissatisfied with me; for we had
some talk about subjects, which, he said, he loved not to think of; to
whit, Miss Harlowe's will; my executorship; papers I had in confidence
communicated to that admirable lady (with no unfriendly design, I assure
your Lordship;) and he insisting upon, and I refusing, the return of the
letters he had written to me, from the time that he had made his first
addresses to her.</p>
<p>He would see me once again, he said; and it would be upon very ill terms
if I complied not with his request. Which I bid him not expect. But, that
I might not deny him every thing, I told him, that I would give him a copy
of the will; though I was sure, I said, when he read it, he would wish he
had never seen it.</p>
<p>I had a message from him about eleven this morning, desiring me to name a
place at which to dine with him, and Mowbray, and Tourville, for the last
time: and soon after another from Colonel Morden, inviting me to pass the
evening with him at the Bedford-head in Covent-Garden. And, that I might
keep them at distance from one another, I appointed Mr. Lovelace at the
Eagle in Suffolk-street.</p>
<p>There I met him, and the two others. We began where we left off at our
last parting; and were very high with each other. But, at last, all was
made up, and he offered to forget and forgive every thing, on condition
that I would correspond with him while abroad, and continue the series
which had been broken through by his illness; and particularly give him,
as I had offered, a copy of the lady's last will.</p>
<p>I promised him: and he then fell to rallying me on my gravity, and on my
reformation-schemes, as he called them. As we walked about the room,
expecting dinner to be brought in, he laid his hand upon my shoulder; then
pushed me from him with a curse; walking round me, and surveying me from
head to foot; then calling for the observations of the others, he turned
round upon his heel, and with one of his peculiar wild airs, 'Ha, ha, ha,
ha,' burst he out, 'that these sour-faced proselytes should take it into
their heads that they cannot be pious, without forfeiting both their
good-nature and good-manners!—Why, Jack,' turning me about,
'pr'ythee look up, man!—Dost thou not know, that religion, if it has
taken proper hold of the heart, is the most cheerful countenance-maker in
the world?—I have heard my beloved Miss Harlowe say so: and she
knew, or nobody did. And was not her aspect a benign proof of the
observation? But thy these wamblings in thy cursed gizzard, and thy
awkward grimaces, I see thou'rt but a novice in it yet!—Ah, Belford,
Belford, thou hast a confounded parcel of briers and thorns to trample
over barefoot, before religion will illuminate these gloomy features!'</p>
<p>I give your Lordship this account, in answer to your desire to know, if I
think him the man he was.</p>
<p>In our conversation at dinner, he was balancing whether he should set out
the next morning, or the morning after. But finding he had nothing to do,
and Col. Morden being in town, (which, however, I told him not of,) I
turned the scale; and he agreed upon setting out to-morrow morning; they
to see him embark; and I promised to accompany them for a morning's ride
(as they proposed their horses); but said, that I must return in the
afternoon.</p>
<p>With much reluctance they let me go to my evening's appointment: they
little thought with whom: for Mr. Lovelace had put it as a case of honour
to all of us, whether, as he had been told that Mr. Morden and Mr. James
Harlowe had thrown out menaces against him, he ought to leave the kingdom
till he had thrown himself in their way.</p>
<p>Mowbray gave his opinion, that he ought to leave it like a man of honour
as he was; and if he did not take those gentlemen to task for their
opprobrious speeches, that at least he should be seen by them in public
before he went away; else they might give themselves airs, as if he had
left the kingdom in fear of them.</p>
<p>To this he himself so much inclined, that it was with difficulty I
persuaded him, that, as they had neither of them proceeded to a direct and
formal challenge; as they knew he had not made himself difficult of
access; and as he had already done the family injury enough; and it was
Miss Harlowe's earnest desire, that he would be content with that; he had
no reason, from any point of honour, to delay his journey; especially as
he had so just a motive for his going, as the establishing of his health;
and as he might return the sooner, if he saw occasion for it.</p>
<p>I found the Colonel in a very solemn way. We had a good deal of discourse
upon the subject of certain letters which had passed between us in
relation to Miss Harlowe's will, and to her family. He has some accounts
to settle with his banker; which, he says, will be adjusted to-morrow; and
on Thursday he proposes to go down again, to take leave of his friends;
and then intends to set out directly for Italy.</p>
<p>I wish Mr. Lovelace could have been prevailed upon to take any other tour,
than that of France and Italy. I did propose Madrid to him; but he laughed
at me, and told me, that the proposal was in character from a mule; and
from one who was become as grave as a Spaniard of the old cut, at ninety.</p>
<p>I expressed to the Colonel my apprehensions, that his cousin's dying
injunctions would not have the force upon him that were to be wished.</p>
<p>'They have great force upon me, Mr. Belford,' said he; 'or one world would
not have held Mr. Lovelace and me thus long. But my intention is to go to
Florence; and not to lay my bones there, as upon my cousin's death I told
you I thought to do; but to settle all my affairs in those parts, and then
to come over, and reside upon a little paternal estate in Kent, which is
strangely gone to ruin in my absence. Indeed, were I to meet Mr. Lovelace,
either here or abroad, I might not be answerable for the consequence.'</p>
<p>He would have engaged me for to-morrow. But having promised to attend Mr.
Lovelace on his journey, as I have mentioned, I said, I was obliged to go
out of town, and was uncertain as to the time of my return in the evening.
And so I am to see him on Thursday morning at my own lodgings.</p>
<p>I will do myself the honour to write again to your Lordship to-morrow
night. Mean time, I am, my Lord,</p>
<p>Your Lordship's, &c.</p>
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