I will encourage a drowsy fit that seems to be stealing upon me. If I have not written with the perspicuity I always aim at, allow, Lucy, for the time of night; for spirits not high; and for the subject, that having its delicacies, as well as uncertainties, I am not able to write clearly upon it.



LETTER XIX

MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION SATURDAY NIGHT, APRIL 9.

Sir Charles is already returned: he arrived at Windsor on Friday morning; but found that Lord W—— had set out the afternoon of the day before, for the house of his friend Sir Joseph Lawrence, which is but fifteen miles from Mansfield-house.

Upon this intelligence, Sir Charles, wanting to return to town as soon as he could, followed him to the knight's: and having time enough himself to reach Mansfield-house that night, he, by his uncle's consent, pursued his journey thither; to the great joy of the family; who wished for his personal introduction of my lord to Miss Mansfield.

My lord arrived by breakfast-time, unfatigued, and in high spirits: staid at Mansfield-house all day; and promised so to manage, as to be in town to-morrow, in order to be present at his niece's nuptials on Tuesday.

As for Sir Charles, he made the Mansfield family happy in his company the whole Friday evening; inquiring into their affairs relating to the oppression they lay under; pointing out measures for redress; encouraging Miss Mansfield; and informing the brothers, that the lawyers he had consulted on their deeds, told him, that a new trial might be hoped for; the result of which, probably, would be a means to do them justice, so powerfully protected and assisted as they would now be; for new lights had broke in upon them, and they wanted but to recover a deed, which they understood was in the hands of two gentlemen, named Hartley, who were but lately returned from the Indies. Thus prepared, the Mansfields also were in high spirits, the next morning; and looked, Sir Charles said, on each other, when they met, as if they wanted to tell each other their agreeable dreams.

Sir Charles, in his way, had looked in upon Sir Harry Beauchamp, and his lady. He found Sir Harry in high spirits, expecting the arrival of his son; who was actually landed from Calais, having met there his father's letter, allowing him to return to England, and wishing in his own, and in Lady Beauchamp's name, his speedy arrival.

Sir Charles's impatience to see his friend, permitted him only to breakfast with my lord and the Mansfields; and to know the opinion each party formed of the other, on this first interview; and then he set out to Sir Harry Beauchamp's. What an activity!—Heaven reward him with the grant of his own wishes, whatever they be, and make him the happiest of men!

My lord is greatly taken with the lady, and her whole family. Well he may, Sir Charles says. He blessed him, and called himself blessed in his sister's son, for his recommendation of each to the other. The lady thinks better of him, as her mother owned to Sir Charles, than she thought she should, from report.

I begin to think, Lucy, that those who set out for happiness are most likely to find it, when they live single till the age of fancy is over. Those who marry while it lasts, are often disappointed of that which they propose so largely to themselves: while those who wed for convenience, and deal with tolerable honesty by each other, are at a greater certainty. Tolerable, I repeat, since, it seems, we are to expect that both parties will turn the best side of the old garment outward. Hence arises consolation to old maidens, and cautions against precipitation— Expatiate, my dear, on this fruitful subject: I would, were I at leisure.

Sir Charles says that he doubts not, but Lord W—— will be as happy a man as he wishes to be, in less than a month.

The deuse is in this brother of mine, whispered Miss Grandison, to me, for huddling up of marriages! He don't consider, that there may be two chances for one, that his honest folks may in half a year's time, bless him the contrary way.

Sir Charles told us, that he had desired Lord W—— to give out every where (that the adversaries of the Mansfield family might know it) his intended alliance; and that he and his nephew were both determined to procure a retrospection of all former proceedings.

Sir Charles got to Sir Harry Beauchamp's a little before his friend arrived. Sir Harry took him aside at his alighting, and told him, that Lady Beauchamp had had clouds on her brow all the day, and he was afraid, would not receive his son with the graciousness that once he hoped for from her: but, that he left him to manage with her. She never, said he, had so high an opinion either of man or woman as she has of you.

Sir Charles addressed himself to her, as not doubting her goodness upon the foot of their former conversation; and praised her for the graces that however appeared but faintly in her countenance, till his compliments lighted them up, and made them shine full out in it. He told her, that his sister and Lord G—— were to be married on the following Tuesday. He himself, he said, should set out for Paris on Friday after: but hoped to see a family intimacy begun between his sisters and Lady Beauchamp; and between their lords, and Sir Harry, and Mr. Beauchamp. He applauded her on the generosity of her intentions, as declared to him in their former conference; and congratulated her on the power she had, of which she made so noble an use, of laying, at the same time, an obligation on the tenderest of husbands, and the most deserving of sons: whose duty to her he engaged for.

All this set her in high good humour; and she took to herself, and bridled upon it, to express myself in Charlotte's manner, the praises and graces this adroit manager gave her, as if they were her unquestionable due.

This agreeable way they were all in, Sir Harry transported with his lady's goodness, when Mr. Beauchamp arrived.

The young gentleman bent his knee to his stepmother, as well as to his father, and thanked her for the high favours his father had signified to him by letter, that he owed to her goodness. She confirmed them; but, Sir Charles observed, with an ostentation that shewed she thought very highly of her own generosity.

They had a very cheerful evening. Not one cloud would hang on Lady Beauchamp's brow, though once or twice it seemed a little overshadowed, as Mr. Beauchamp displayed qualities for which his father was too ready to admire him. Sir Charles thought it necessary to caution Sir Harry on this subject; putting it in this light, that Lady Beauchamp loved her husband so well, that she would be too likely to dread a rivalry in his affections from a son so very accomplished. Sir Harry took the hint kindly.

Mr. Beauchamp was under a good deal of concern at Sir Charles's engagements to leave England so soon after his arrival; and asked his father's leave to attend him. Sir Harry declared, that he could not part with him. Sir Charles chid his friend, and said, it was not quite so handsome a return as might have been expected from his Beauchamp, to the joyful reception he had met with from his father, and Lady Beauchamp. But she excused the young gentleman, and said, she wondered not, that any body who was favoured with his friendship, should be unwilling to be separated from him.

Sir Charles expresses great satisfaction in Mr. Beauchamp's being arrived before his departure, that he may present to us, himself, a man with whom he is sure we shall all be delighted, and leave him happy in the beloved society which he himself is obliged to quit.

A repining temper, Lucy, would consider only the hardship of meeting a long-absent friend, just to feel the uneasiness of a second parting: but this man views every thing in a right light. When his own happiness is not to be attained, he lays it out of his thoughts, and, as I have heretofore observed, rejoices in that of others. It is a pleasure to see how Sir Charles seems to enjoy the love which Dr. Bartlett expresses for this friend of them both.

Sir Charles addressed himself to me, on several occasions, in so polite, in so tender a manner, that every one told me afterwards, they are sure he loves me. Dr. Bartlett at the time, as he sat next me, whispered, on the regret expressed by all on losing him so soon—Ah, madam!—I know, and pity, my patron's struggles!—Struggles, Lucy! What could the doctor mean by this whisper to me? But I hope he guesses not at mine! If he does, would he have whispered his pity of Sir Charles to me?—Come, Lucy, this is some comfort, however; and I will endeavour to be brave upon it, that I may not, by my weakness, lessen myself in the doctor's good opinion.

It was agreed for Charlotte, (whose assent was given in these words—'Do as you will—or, rather, as my brother will—What signifies opposing him?') that the nuptials shall be solemnized, as privately as possible, at St. George's church. The company is to drop in at different doors, and with as few attendants as may be. Lord W——, the Earl of G——, and Lady Gertrude, Lord and Lady L——, Miss Jervois, and your Harriet, are to be present at the ceremony. I was very earnest to be excused, till Miss Grandison, when we were alone, dropt down on one knee, and held up her hands, to beg me to accompany her. Mr. Everard Grandison, if he can be found, is to be also there, at Sir Charles's desire.

Dr. Bartlett, as I before hinted, at her earnest request, is to perform the ceremony. Sir Charles wished it to be at his own parish-church: but Miss Grandison thought it too near to be private. He was indifferent, as to the place, he said—So it was at church; for he had been told of the difficulty we had to get Charlotte to desist from having it performed in her chamber; and seemed surprised.—Fie, Charlotte! said he—An office so solemn!—Vows to receive and pay, as in the Divine Presence—

She was glad, she told me, that she had not left that battle to be fought with him.

MONDAY, APRIL 10.

Lord W—— is come. Lord and Lady L—— are here. They, and Miss Grandison, received him with great respect. He embraced his nieces in a very affectionate manner. Sir Charles was absent. Lord W—— is in person and behaviour a much more agreeable man than I expected him to be. Nor is he so decrepit with the gout, as I had supposed. He is very careful of himself, it seems. This world has been kind to him; and I fancy he makes a great deal of a little pain, for want of stronger exercises to his patience; and so is a sufferer by self-indulgence. Had I not been made acquainted with his free living, and with the insults he bore from Mrs. Giffard, with a spirit so poor and so low, I should have believed I saw not only the man of quality, but the man of sense, in his countenance. I endeavoured, however, as much as I could, to look upon him as the brother of the late Lady Grandison. Had he been worthy of that relation, how should I have reverenced him!

But whatever I thought of him, he was highly taken with me. He particularly praised me for the modesty which he said was visible in my countenance. Free-livers, Lucy, taken with that grace in a woman, which they make it their pride to destroy! But all men, good and bad, admire modesty in a woman: And I am sometimes out of humour with our sex, that they do not as generally like modesty in men. I am sure that this grace, in Sir Charles Grandison, is one of his principal glories with me. It emboldens one's heart, and permits one to behave before him with ease; and, as I may say, with security, in the consciousness of a right intention.

But what were Lord W——'s praises of his nephew! He called him, the glory of his sex, and of human nature. How the cheeks of the dear Emily glowed at the praises given to her guardian!—She was the taller for them: when she moved, it was on tiptoe; stealing as it were, across the floor, lest she should lose any thing that was said on a subject so delightful to her.

My lord was greatly pleased with her too. He complimented her as the beloved ward of the best of guardians. He lamented, with us, the occasion that called his nephew abroad. He was full of his own engagements with Miss Mansfield, and declared that his nephew should guide and govern him as he pleased in every material case, respecting either the conduct of his future life, or the management and disposition of his estate; declaring, that he had made his will, and, reserving only his lady's jointure, and a few legacies, had left every thing to him.

How right a thing, even in policy, is it, my dear, to be good and generous.

I must not forget, that my lord wished with all his soul, that was his expression, that he might have the honour of giving to his nephew my hand in marriage.

I could feel myself blush. I half-suppressed a sigh: I would have wholly suppressed it, if I could. I recovered the little confusion, his too plainly expressed wish gave me, by repeating to myself the word CLEMENTINA.

This Charlotte is a great coward. But I dare not tell her so, for fear of a retort. I believe I should be as great a one in her circumstances, so few hours to one of the greatest events of one's life! But I pretend not to bravery: yet hope, that in the cause of virtue or honour I should be found to have a soul.

I write now at my cousin's. I came hither to make an alteration in my dress. I have promised to be with the sweet Bully early in the morning of her important day.



LETTER XX

MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION TUESDAY NIGHT, APRIL 11, 12. WEDNESDAY MORNING,

Miss Grandison is no longer to be called by that name. She is Lady G——. May she make Lord G—— as happy as I dare say he will make her, if it be not her own fault!

I was early with her, according to promise. I found her more affected than she was even last night with her approaching change of condition. Her brother had been talking to her, she said; and had laid down the duties of the state she was about to enter into, in such a serious manner, and made the performance of them of so much importance to her happiness both here and hereafter, that she was terrified at the thoughts of what she was about to undertake. She had never considered matrimony in that formidable light before. He had told her, that he was afraid of her vivacity; yet was loath to discourage her cheerfulness, or to say any thing that should lower her spirits. All he besought of her was, to regard times, tempers, and occasions; and then it would be impossible but her lively humour must give delight not only to the man whom she favoured with her hand, but to every one who had the pleasure of approaching her. If, Charlotte, said he, you would have the world around you respect your husband, you must set the example. While the wife gives the least room to suspect, that she despises her husband, she will find that she subjects him to double contempt, if he resents it not; and if he does, can you be happy? Aggressors lay themselves open to severe reprisals. If you differ, you will be apt to make by-standers judges over you. They will remember, when you are willing to forget; and your fame will be the sport of those beneath you, as well in understanding as degree.

She believed, she told me, that Lord G—— had been making some complaints of her. If he had—

Hush, my dear, said I—Not one word of threatening: are you more solicitous to conceal your fault, than to amend it?

No—But you know, Harriet, for a man, before he has experienced what sort of a wife I shall make, to complain against me for foibles in courtship, when he can help himself if he will, has something so very little—

Your conscience, Charlotte, tells you, that he had reason for complaint; and therefore you think he has complained. Think the best of Lord G—— for your own reputation's sake, since you thought fit to go thus far with him. You have borne nothing from him: he has borne a great deal from you.

I am fretful, Harriet; I won't be chidden: I will be comforted by you: you shall sooth me: are you not my sister? She threw her arms round me, and kissed my cheek.

I ventured to rally her, though I was afraid of her retort, and met with it: but I thought it would divert her. I am glad, my dear, said I, that you are capable of this tenderness of temper: you blustering girls—But fear, I believe, will make cowards loving.

Harriet, said she, and flung from me to the window, remember this: may I soon see you in the same situation! I will then have no mercy upon you.

The subject, which Sir Charles led to at breakfast, was the three weddings of Thursday last. He spoke honourably of marriage, and made some just compliments to Lord and Lady L——; concluding them with wishes, that his sister Charlotte and Lord G—— might be neither more nor less happy than they were. Then turning to Lord W——, he said, he questioned not his lordship's happiness with the lady he had so lately seen; for I cannot doubt, said he, of your lordship's affectionate gratitude to her, if she behaves, as I am sure she will.

My lord had tears in his eyes. Never man had such a nephew as I have, said he. All the joy of my present prospects, all the comforts of my future life, are and will be owing to you.

Here had he stopt, it would have been well: but turning to me, he unexpectedly said, Would to God, madam, that you could reward him! I cannot; and nobody else can.

All were alarmed for me; every eye was upon me. A sickishness came over my heart—I know not how to describe it. My head sunk upon my bosom. I could hardly sit; yet was less able to rise.

Sir Charles's face was overspread with blushes. He bowed to my lord. May the man, said he, who shall have the honour to call Miss Byron his, be, if possible, as deserving as she is! Then will they live together the life of angels.

He gracefully looked down; not at me; and I got a little courage to look up: yet Lady L—— was concerned for me: so was Lord L——: Emily's eye dropt a tear upon her blushing cheek.

Was it not, Lucy, a severe trial?—Indeed it was.

My Lord, to mend the matter, lamented very pathetically, that Sir Charles was under an obligation to go abroad; and still more, that he could not stay to be present at the celebration of his nuptials with Miss Mansfield.

The Earl, Lord G——, Lady Gertrude, and the doctor, were to meet the bride and us at church. Lord and Lady L——, Sir Charles, and Emily, went in one coach: Miss Grandison and I in another.

As we went, I don't like this affair at all, Harriet, said she. My brother has long made all other men indifferent to me. Such an infinite difference!

Can any body be happier than Lord and Lady L——, Charlotte? Yet Lady L—— admires her brother as much as you can do.

They happy!—And so they are. But Lady L——, soft soul! fell in love with Lord L—— before my brother came over. So the foundation was laid: and it being a first flame with her, she, in compliment to herself, could not but persevere. But the sorry creature Anderson, proving a sorry creature, made me despise the sex: and my brother's perfections contributed to my contempt of all other men.

Indeed, my dear, you are wrong. Lord G—— loves you: but were Sir Charles not your brother, it is not very certain, that he would have returned your love.

Why, that's true. I believe he would not, in that case, have chosen me. I am sure he would not, if he had known you: but for the man one loves, one can do any thing, be every thing, that he would wish one to be.

Do you think you cannot love Lord G——? For Heaven's sake, Charlotte, though you are now almost within sight of the church, do not think of giving your hand, if you cannot resolve to make Lord G—— as happy, as I have no doubt he will make you, if it be not your own fault.

What will my brother say? What will—

Leave that to me. I will engage Sir Charles and Dr. Bartlett to lend me their ear in the vestry; and I am sure your brother, if he knows that you have an antipathy to Lord G——, or that you think you cannot be happy with him, will undertake your cause, and bring you off.

Antipathy! That's a strong word, Harriet. The man is a good-natured silly man—

Silly! Charlotte!—Silly then he must be for loving you so well, who, really, have never yet given him an opportunity to shew his importance with you.

I do pity him sometimes.

The coach stopt:—Ah, Lord! Harriet! The church! The church!

Say, Charlotte, before you step out—Shall I speak to your brother, and Dr. Bartlett, in the vestry?

I shall look like a fool either way.

Don't act like one, Charlotte, on this solemn occasion. Say, you will deserve, that you will try to deserve, Lord G——'s love.

Sir Charles appeared. Lord help me!—My brother!—I'll try, I'll try, what can be done.

He gave each his hand in turn: in we flew: the people began to gather about us. Lord G—— all rapture, received her at the entrance. Sir Charles led me: and the Earl and Lady Gertrude received us with joy in their countenances. I overheard the naughty one say, as Lord G—— led her up to the altar, You don't know what you are about, man. I expect to have all my way: remember that's one of my articles before marriage.

He returned her an answer of fond assent to her condition. I am afraid, thought I, poor Lord G——, you will be more than once reminded of this previous article.

When she was led to the altar, and Lord G—— and she stood together, she trembled. Leave me not, Harriet, said she.—Brother! Lady L——!

I am sure she looked sillier than Lord G—— at that instant.

The good doctor began the office. No dearly beloveds, Harriet! whispered she, as I had said, on a really terrible occasion. I was offended with her in my heart: again she whispered something against the office, as the doctor proceeded to give the reasons for the institution. Her levity did not forsake her even at that solemn moment.

When the service was over, every one (Sir Charles in a solemn and most affectionate manner) wished her happy. My Lord G—— kissed her hand with a bent knee.

She took my hand. Ah! Lord, what have I done?—And am I married? whispered she—And can it never be undone?—And is that the man, to whom I am to be obedient?—Is he to be my lord and master?

Ah, Lady G——, said I, it is a solemn office. You have vowed: he has vowed.—It is a solemn office.

Lord G—— led her to the first coach. Sir Charles led me into the same. The people, to my great confusion, whispered. That's the bride! What a charming couple! Sir Charles handed Miss Emily next. Lord G—— came in: as he was entering, Harkee, friend, said Charlotte, and put out her hand, you mistake the coach: you are not of our company.

The whole world, replied my lord, shall not now divide us: and took his seat on the same side with Emily.

The man's a rogue, Harriet, whispered she: See! He gives himself airs already!

This, said Lord G—— as the coach drove on, taking one hand, and eagerly kissing it, is the hand that blessed me.

And that, said she, pushing him from her with the other, is the hand that repulses your forwardness. What came you in here for?—Don't be silly.

He was in raptures all the way.

When we came home, every one embraced and wished joy to the bride. The Earl and Lady Gertrude were in high spirits. The lady re-saluted her niece, as her dear niece: the earl recognised his beloved daughter.

But prepare to hear a noble action of Lord W——.

When he came up to compliment her—My dearest niece, said he, I wish you joy with all my soul. I have not been a kind uncle. There is no fastening any thing on your brother. Accept of this: [and he put a little paper into her hand—It was a banknote of 1,000L.:] My sister's daughter, and your brother's sister, merits more than this.

Was not this handsomely presented, Lucy?

He then, in a manner becoming Lady Grandison's brother, stept to Lady L——. My niece Charlotte is not my only niece. I wish you, my dear, as if this was your day of marriage, all happiness; accept these two papers: [The one, Lucy, was a note for 1,000L. and the other for 100L.:] and he said, The lesser note is due to you for interest on the greater.

When the ladies opened their notes, and saw what they were, they were at first at a loss what to say.

It was most gracefully done. But see, Lucy, the example of a good and generous man can sometimes alter natures; and covetous men, I have heard it observed, when their hearts are opened, often act nobly.

As soon as Lady G—— (so now I must call her) recovered herself from the surprise into which my lord's present and address had put her, she went to him: Allow me, my lord, said she, and bent one knee to him, to crave your blessing; and at the same time to thank you for your paternal present to your ever obliged Charlotte.

God bless you, my dear! saluting her—But thank your noble brother: you delight me with your graceful acceptance.

Lady L—— came up. My Lord, you overcome me by your bounty.—How shall I—

Your brother's princely spirit, Lady L——, said he, makes this present look mean. Forgive me only, that it was not done before. And he saluted her.

Lord L—— came up. Lady L—— shewed him the opened notes—See here, my lord, said she, what Lord W—— has done: and he calls this the interest due on that.

Your lordship oppresses me with your goodness to your niece, said Lord L——. May health, long-life, and happiness, attend you in your own nuptials!

There, there, said Lord W——, pointing to Sir Charles, (who had withdrawn, and then entered), make your acknowledgment: his noble spirit has awakened mine; it was only asleep. My late sister's brother wanted but the force of such an example. That son is all his mother.

Sir Charles joining them, having heard only the last words—If I am thought a son not unworthy of the most excellent of mothers, said he, and by her brother, I am happy.

Then you are happy, replied my lord.

Her memory, resumed Sir Charles, I cherish; and when I have been tempted to forget myself, that memory has been a means of keeping me steady in my duty. Her precepts, my lord, were the guide of my early youth. Had I not kept them in mind, how much more blamable than most young men had I been!—My Charlotte! Have that mother in your memory, on this great change of your condition! You will not be called to her trials.—His eyes glistened. Tender be our remembrance of my father.—Charlotte, be worthy of your mother.

He withdrew with an air so noble!—But soon returning, with a cheerful look, he was told what Lord W—— had done—Your lordship was before, said he, entitled to our duty, by the ties of blood: but what is the relation of body to that of mind? You have bound me for my sisters, and that still more by the manner, than by the act, in a bond of gratitude that never can be broken!

Thank yourself, thank yourself, my noble nephew.

Encourage, my lord, a family intimacy between your lady, and her nieces and nephews. You will be delighted, my sisters, with Miss Mansfield; but when she obliges my lord with her hand, you will reverence your aunt. I shall have a pleasure, when I am far distant, in contemplating the family union. Your lordship must let me know your Day in time; and I will be joyful upon it, whatever, of a contrary nature, I may have to struggle with on my own account.

My lord wept—My lord wept, did I say?—Not one of us had a dry eye!— This was a solemn scene, you will say, for a wedding day: but how delightfully do such scenes dilate the heart!

The day, however, was not forgotten as a day of festivity. Sir Charles himself, by his vivacity and openness of countenance, made every one joyful: and, except that now and then a sigh, which could not be checked, stole from some of us, to think that he would so soon be in another country, (far distant from the friends he now made happy,) and engaged in difficulties; perhaps in dangers; every heart was present to the occasion of the day.

O, Charlotte! Dear Lady G——! Hitherto, it is in your power, to make every future day, worthy of this!—'Have your mother, your noble mother, in your memory, my dear:' and give credit to the approbation of such a brother.

I should have told you, that my cousins Reeves came about two, and were received with the utmost politeness by every body.

Sir Charles was called out just before dinner; and returned introducing a young gentleman, dressed as if for the day—This is an earlier favour, than I had hoped for, said Sir Charles; and leading him to Lady G——. This, sir, is the queen of the day. My dear Lady G——, welcome (the house is yours—welcome) the man I love: welcome my Beauchamp.

Every one, except Emily and me, crowded about Mr. Beauchamp, as Sir Charles's avowedly beloved friend, and bid him cordially welcome: Sir Charles presenting him to each by name.

Then leading him to me—I am half ashamed, Lucy, to repeat—But take it as he spoke it—Revere, said he, my dear friend, that excellent young lady: but let not your admiration stop at her face and person: she has a mind as exalted, my Beauchamp, as your own: Miss Byron, in honour to my sister, and of us all, has gilded this day by her presence.

Mr. Beauchamp approached me with polite respect. The lady whom Sir Charles Grandison admires, as he does you, must be the first of women.

I might have said, that he, who was so eminently distinguished as the friend of Sir Charles Grandison, must be a most valuable man: but my spirits were not high. I courtesied to his compliment; and was silent.

Sir Charles presented Emily to him.—My Emily, Beauchamp. I hope to live to see her happily married. The man whose heart is but half so worthy as hers, must be an excellent man.

Modesty might look up, and be sensible to compliments from the lips of such a man. Emily looked at me with pleasure, as if she had said, Do you hear, madam, what a fine thing my guardian has said of me?

Sir Charles asked Mr. Beauchamp, how he stood with my Lady Beauchamp?

Very well, answered he. After such an introduction as you had given me to her, I must have been to blame, had I not. She is my father's wife: I must respect her, were she ever so unkind to me: she is not without good qualities. Were every family so happy as to have Sir Charles Grandison for a mediator when misunderstandings happened, there would be very few lasting differences among relations. My father and mother tell me, that they never sit down to table together, but they bless you: and to me they have talked of nobody else: but Lady Beauchamp depends upon your promise of making her acquainted with the ladies of your family.

My sisters, and their lords, will do honour to my promise in my absence. Lady L——, Lady G——, let me recommend to you Lady Beauchamp as more than a common visiting acquaintance. Do you, sir, to Mr. Beauchamp, see it cultivated.

Mr. Beauchamp is an agreeable, and, when Sir Charles Grandison is not in company, a handsome and genteel man. I think, my dear, that I do but the same justice that every body would do, in this exception. He is cheerful, lively, yet modest, and not too full of words. One sees both love and respect in every look he casts upon his friend; and that he is delighted when he hears him speak, be the subject what it will.

He once said to Lord W——, who praised his nephew to him, as he does to everybody near him; The universal voice, my lord, is in his favour wherever he goes. Every one joins almost in the same words, in different countries, allowing for the different languages, that for sweetness of manners, and manly dignity, he hardly ever had his equal.

Sir Charles was then engaged in talk with his Emily; she before him; he standing in an easy genteel attitude, leaning against the wainscot, listening, smiling, to her prattle, with looks of indulgent love, as a father might do to a child he was fond of; while she looked back every now and then towards me, so proud, poor dear! of being singled out by her guardian.

She tript to me afterwards, and, leaning over my shoulder, as I sat, whispered—I have been begging of my guardian to use his interest with you, madam, to take me down with you to Northamptonshire.

And what is the result?

She paused.

Has he denied your request?

No, madam.

Has he allowed you to go, my dear, if I comply, turning half round to her with pleasure.

She paused, and seemed at a loss. I repeated my question.

Why, no, he has not consented neither—But he said such charming things, so obliging, so kind, both of you, and of me, that I forgot my question, though it was so near my heart: but I will ask him again.

And thus, Lucy, can he decline complying, and yet send away a requester so much delighted with him, as to forget what her request was.

Miss Grandison—Lady G——, I would say—singled me out soon after—This Beauchamp is really a very pretty fellow, Harriet.

He is an agreeable man, answered I.

So I think. She said no more of him at that time.

Between dinner and tea, at Lady L——'s motion, they made me play on the harpsichord; and after one lesson, they besought Sir Charles to sing to my playing. He would not, he said, deny any request that was made him on that day.

He sung. He has a mellow manly voice, and great command of it.

This introduced a little concert. Mr. Beauchamp took the violin; Lord L—— the bass-viol; Lord G—— the German flute; and most of the company joined in the chorus. The song was from 'Alexander's Feast:' the words;

Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the good deserves the fair:

Sir Charles, though himself equally brave and good, preferring the latter word to the former.

Lady L—— had always insisted upon dancing at her sister's wedding. We were not company enough for country dances: but music having been ordered, and the performers come, it was insisted upon that we should have a dance, though we were engaged in a conversation that I thought infinitely more agreeable.

Lord G—— began by dancing a minuet with his bride: she danced charmingly: but on my telling her so afterwards, she whispered me, that she should have performed better, had she danced with her brother. Lord G—— danced extremely well.

Lord L—— and Lady Gertrude, Mr. Beauchamp and Mrs. Reeves, Mr. Reeves and Lady L—— danced all of them very agreeably.

The earl took me out: but we had hardly done, when, asking pardon for disgracing me, as he too modestly expressed himself; he, and all but my cousins and Emily, called out for Sir Charles to dance with me.

I was abashed at the general voice calling upon us both: but it was obeyed.

He deserved all the praises that Miss Gran—Lady G——, I would say, gave him in her letter to me.

Lord bless me, my dear, this man is every thing! But his conversation has ever been among the politest people of different nations.

Lord W—— wished himself able, from his gout, to take out Miss Jervois.

The bridegroom was called upon by Sir Charles: and he took out the good girl, who danced very prettily. I fancied, that he chose to call out Lord G—— rather than Mr. Beauchamp. He is the most delicate and considerate of men.

Sir Charles was afterwards called upon by the bride herself: and she danced then with a grace indeed! I was pleased that she could perform so well at her own wedding.

Supper was not ready till twelve. Mr. Reeves's coach came about that hour; but we got not away till two.

Perhaps the company would not have broke up so soon, had not the bride been perverse, and refused to retire.

Was she not at home? she asked Lady L——, who was put upon urging her: and should she leave her company?

She would make me retire with her. She took a very affectionate leave of me.

Marriage, Lucy, is an awful rite. It is supposed to be a joyful solemnity: but, on the woman's side, it can be only so when she is given to the man she loves above all the men in the world; and, even to her, the anniversary day, when doubt is turned into certainty, must be much happier than the day itself.

What a victim must that woman look upon herself to be, who is compelled, or even over-persuaded, to give her hand to a man who has no share in her heart? Ought not a parent or guardian, in such a circumstance, especially if the child has a delicate, an honest mind, to be chargable with all the unhappy consequences that may follow from such a cruel compulsion?

But this is not the case with Miss Grandison. Early she cast her eye on an improper object. Her pride convinced her in time of the impropriety. And this, as she owns, gave her an indifference to all men.

She hates not Lord G——. There is no man whom she prefers to him. And in this respect, may perhaps, be upon a par with eight women out of twelve, who marry, and yet make not bad wives.

As she played with her passion till she lost it, she may be happy, if she will: and since she intended to be, some time or other, Lady G——, her brother was kind in persuading her to shorten her days of coquetting and teasing, and allow him to give her to Lord G—— before he went abroad.



LETTER XXI

MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12.

Dr. Bartlett was so good as to breakfast with my cousins and me this morning. He talks of setting out for Grandison-hall on Saturday or Monday next. We have settled a correspondence; and he gives me hope, that he will make me a visit in Northamptonshire. I know you will all rejoice to see him.

Emily came in before the doctor went. She brought me the compliments of the bride, and Lord W——, with their earnest request, that I would dine with them. Sir Charles was gone, she said, to make a farewell visit to the Danby set; but would be at home at dinner.

It would be better for me, I think, Lucy, to avoid all opportunities of seeing him: Don't you think so?—There is no such thing as seeing him with indifference. But, so earnestly invited, how could I deny; especially as my cousins were inclinable to go?

Miss Jervois whispered me at parting. I never before, said she, had an opportunity to observe the behaviour of a new-married couple to each other: but is it customary, madam, for the bride to be more snappish, as the bridegroom is more obliging?

Lady G—— is very naughty, my dear, if she so behaves, as to give you reason to ask this question.

She does: and, upon my word, I see more obedience where it was not promised, than where it was. Dear madam, is not what is said at church to be thought of afterwards? But why did not the doctor make her speak out? What signified bowing, except a woman was so bashful that she could not speak?

The bowing, my dear, is an assent. It is as efficacious as words. Lord G—— only bowed, you know. Could you like to be called upon, Emily, to speak out?

Why, no. But then I would be very civil and good-natured to my husband, if it were but for fear he should be cross to me: but I should think it my duty as well

Sweet innocent!

She went away, and left the doctor with me.

When our hearts are set upon a particular subject, how impertinent, how much beside the purpose, do we think every other! I wanted the doctor to talk of Sir Charles Grandison: but as he fell not into the subject, and as I was afraid he would think me to be always leading him into it, if I began it, I suffered him to go away at his first motion: I never knew him so shy upon it, however.

Sir Charles returned to dinner. He has told Lady L——, who afterwards told us, that he had a hint from Mr. Galliard, senior, that if he were not engaged in his affections, he was commissioned to make him a very great proposal in behalf of one of the young ladies he had seen the Thursday before; and that from her father.

Surely, Lucy, we may pronounce without doubt, that we live in an age in which there is a great dearth of good men, that so many offers fall to the lot of one. But, I am thinking, 'tis no small advantage to Sir Charles, that his time is so taken up, that he cannot stay long enough in any company to suffer them to cast their eyes on other objects, with distinction. He left the numerous assembly at Enfield, while they were in the height of their admiration of him. Attention, love, admiration, cannot be always kept at the stretch. You will observe, Lucy, that on the return of a long-absent dear friend, the rapture lasts not more than an hour: gladdened, as the heart is, the friend received, and the friends receiving, perhaps in less than that time, can sit down quietly together, to hear and to tell stories, of what has happened to either in the long regretted absence. It will be so with us, Lucy, when I return to the arms of my kind friends: and now, does not Sir Charles's proposed journey to Italy endear his company to us?

The Earl of G——, Lady Gertrude, and two agreeable nieces of that nobleman's, were here at dinner. Lady G—— behaved pretty well to her lord before them: but I, who understood the language of her eyes, saw them talk very saucily to him, on several occasions. My lord is a little officious in his obligingness; which takes off from that graceful, that polite frankness, which so charmingly, on all occasions, distinguishes one happy man, who was then present. Lord G—— will perhaps appear more to advantage in that person's absence.

Mr. Beauchamp was also present. He is indeed an agreeable, a modest young man. He appeared to great advantage, as well in his conversation, as by his behaviour: and not the less for subscribing in both to the superiority of his friend; who, nevertheless, endeavoured to draw him out as the first man.

After dinner, Lady L——, Lady G——, and I, found an opportunity to be by ourselves for one half hour. Lady G—— asked Lady L—— what she intended to do with the thousand pounds with which Lord W—— had so generously presented her?—Do with it, my dear!—What do you think I intend to do with it?—It is already disposed of.

I'll be hanged, said Lady G——, if this good creature has not given it to her husband.

Indeed, Charlotte, I have. I gave it to him before I slept.

I thought so! She laughed—And Lord L—— took it! Did he?

To be sure he did. I should otherwise have been displeased with him.

Dear, good soul!—And so you gave him a thousand pounds to take part of it back from him, by four or five paltry guineas at a time, at his pleasure?

Lord L—— and I, Charlotte, have but one purse. You may not perhaps, know how we manage it?

Pray, good, meek, dependent creature! how do you manage it?

Thus, Charlotte: My lord knows that his wife and he have but one interest; and from the first of our happy marriage, he would make me take one key, as he has another, of the private drawer, where his money and money-bills lie. There is a little memorandum-book in the drawer, in which he enters on one page, the money he receives; on the opposite, the money he takes out: and when I want money, I have recourse to my key. If I see but little in the drawer, I am the more moderate; or, perhaps, if my want is not urgent, defer the supplying of it till my lord is richer: but, little or much, I minute down the sum, as he himself does; and so we know what we are about; and I never put it out of my lord's power, by my unseasonable expenses, to preserve that custom of his, for which he is as much respected, as well served; not to suffer a demand to be twice made upon him where he is a debtor.

Good soul!—And, pray, don't you minute down, too, the use to which you put the money you take out?

Indeed I often do: always, indeed, when I take out more than five guineas at one time: I found my lord did so: and I followed the example of my own accord.

Happy pair! said I.—O Lady G——, what a charming example is this!—I hope you'll follow it.

Thank you, Harriet, for your advice. Why, I can't but say, that this is one pretty way of coaxing each other into frugality: but don't you think, that where an honest pair are so tender of disobliging, and so studious of obliging each other, that they seem to confess that the matrimonial good understanding hangs by very slender threads?

And do not the tenderest friendships, said I, hang by as slender? Can delicate minds be united to each other but by delicate observances?

Why thou art a good soul, too, Harriet!—And so you would both have me make a present to Lord G—— of my thousand pounds before we have chosen our private drawer; before he has got two keys made to it?

Let him know, Charlotte, what Lord L—— and I do, if you think the example worth following—And then—

Ay, and then give him my thousand pounds for a beginning, Lady L——? But see you not that this proposal should come from him, not from me?— And should we not let each other see a little of each other's merits first?

See, first, the merits of the man you have married, Charlotte!

Yes, Lady L——. But yesterday married, you know. Can there be a greater difference between any two men in the world, than there often is between the same man, a lover, and a husband?—And now, my generous advisers, be pleased to continue silent. You cannot answer me fairly. And besides, wot ye not the indelicacy of an early present, which you are not obliged to make?

We were both silent, each expecting the other to answer the strange creature.

She laughed at us both. Soft souls, and tender! said she, let me tell you, that there is more indelicacy in delicacy, than you very delicate people are aware of.

You, Charlotte, said Lady L——, have odder notions than any body else. Had you been a man, you would have been a sad rake.

A rake, perhaps, I might have been; but not a sad one, Lady L——.

Lady G—— can't help being witty, said I: it is sometimes her misfortune, sometimes ours, that she cannot: however, I highly approve of the example set by Lord L——, and followed by Lady L——.

And so do I, Harriet. And when Lord G—— sets the example, I shall— consider of it. I am not a bad economist. Had I ten thousand pounds in my hands, I would not be extravagant: had I but one hundred, I would not be mean. I value not money but as it enables me to lay an obligation, instead of being under the necessity of receiving one. I am my mother's daughter, and brother's sister; and yours, Lady L——, in this particular; and yours too, Harriet: different means may be taken to arrive at the same end. Lord G—— will have no reason to be dissatisfied with my prudence in money-matters, although I should not make him one of my best courtesies, as if—as if—(and she laughed; but checking herself)—I were conscious—again she laughed—that I had signed and sealed to my absolute dependence on his bounty.

What a mad creature! said Lady L——: But, my Harriet, don't you think that she behaved pretty well to Lord G—— at table?

Yes, answered I, as those would think who observe not her arch looks: but she gave me pain for her several times; and, I believe, her brother was not without his apprehensions.

He had his eyes upon you, Harriet, replied Lady G——, more earnestly than he had upon me, or any body else.

That's true, said Lady L——. I looked upon both him and you, my dear, with pity. My tears were ready to start more than once, to reflect how happy you two might be in each other, and how greatly you would love each other, were it not——

Not one word more on this subject, dear Lady L——! I cannot bear it. I thought my-self, that he often cast an eye of tenderness upon me. I cannot bear it. I am afraid of myself; of my justice—

His tender looks did not escape me, said Lady G——. Nor yet did my dear Harriet's. But we will not touch this string: it is too tender a one. I, for my part, was forced, in order to divert myself, to turn my eyes on Lord G——. He got nothing by that. The most officious—

Nay, Lady G——, interrupted I, you shall not change the discourse at the expense of the man you have vowed to honour. I will be pained myself, by the continuation of the former subject, rather than that shall be.

Charming Harriet! said Lady L——. I hope your generosity will be rewarded. Yet tell me, my dear, can you wish Lady Clementina may be his? I have no doubt but you wish her recovery; but can you wish her to be his?

I have debated the matter, my dear Lady L——, with myself. I am sorry it has admitted of debate: so excellent a creature! Such an honour to her sex! So nobly sincere! So pious!—But I will confess the truth: I have called upon justice to support me in my determination: I have supposed myself in her situation, her unhappy malady excepted: I have supposed her in mine: and ought I then to have hesitated to which to give the preference?—Yet—

What yet, most frank, and most generous of women? said Lady L——, clasping her arms about me: what yet—

Why, yet-Ah, ladies—Why, yet, I have many a pang, many a twitch, as I may call it!—Why is your brother so tender-hearted, so modest, so faultless!—Why did he not insult me with his pity? Why does he on every occasion shew a tenderness for me, that is more affecting than pity? And why does he give me a consequence that exalts, while it depresses me?

I turned my head aside to hide my emotion—Lady G—— snatched my handkerchief from me; and wiped away a starting tear; and called me by very tender names.

Am I dear, continued I, to the heart of such a man? You think I am. Allow me to say, that he is indeed dear to mine: yet I have not a wish but for his happiness, whatever becomes of me.

Emily appeared at the door—May I come in, ladies?—I will come in!—My dear Miss Byron affected! My dear Miss Byron in tears!

Her pity, without knowing the cause, sprung to her eyes. She took my hand in both hers, and repeatedly kissed it!—My guardian asks for you. O with what tenderness of voice—Where is your Miss Byron, love? He calls every one by gentle names, when he speaks of you—His voice then is the voice of love—Love, said he to me! Through you, madam, he will love his ward—And on your love will I build all my merit. But you sigh, dear Miss Byron! you sigh—Forgive your prating girl!—You must not be grieved.

I embraced her. Grief, my dear, reaches not my heart at this time. It is the merit of your guardian that affects me.

God bless you, madam, for your gratitude to my guardian!

A Clementina and a Harriet! said Lady L——, two women so excellent! What a fate is his! How must his heart be divided!

Divided, say you, Lady L——! resumed Lady G——. The man who loves virtue, for virtue's sake, loves it wherever he finds it: Such a man may distinguish more virtuous women than one: and if he be of a gentle and beneficent nature, there will be tenderness in his distinction to every one, varying only according to the difference of circumstance and situation.

Let me embrace you, my Charlotte! resumed Lady L——. for that thought. Don't let me hear, for a month to come, one word from the same lips, that may be unworthy of it.

You have Lord G—— in your head, Lady L——: but never mind us. He must now and then be made to look about him. I'll take care to keep up my consequence with him, never fear: nor shall he have reason to doubt the virtue of his wife.

Virtue, my dear! said I: What is virtue only? She who will not be virtuous for virtue's sake, is not worthy to be called a woman: but she must be something more than virtuous for her husband's, nay, for her vow's sake. Complacency, obligingness—

Obedience too, I warrant—Hush, hush, my sweet Harriet! putting her hand before my mouth, we will behave as well as we can: and that will be very well, if nobody minds us. And now let us go down together.



LETTER XXII

MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION THURSDAY, APRIL 13.

We played at cards last night till supper-time. When that was over, every one sought to engage Sir Charles in discourse. I will give you some particulars of our conversation, as I did of one before.

Lord W—— began it with a complaint of the insolence and profligateness of servants. What he said, was only answered by Sir Charles, with the word Example, example, my good lord, repeated.

You, Sir Charles, replied my lord, may indeed insist upon the force of example; for I cannot but observe, that all those of yours, whom I have seen, are entitled to regard. They have the looks of men at ease, and of men grateful for that ease: they know their duty, and need not a reminding look. A servant of yours, Sir Charles, looks as if he would one day make a figure as a master. How do you manage it?

Perhaps I have been peculiarly fortunate in worthy servants. There is nothing in my management deserving the attention of this company.

I am going to begin the world anew, nephew. Hitherto, servants have been a continual plague to me. I must know how you treat them.

I treat them, my lord, as necessary parts of my family. I have no secrets, the keeping or disclosing of which might give them self-importance. I endeavour to set them no bad example. I am never angry with them but for wilful faults: if those are not habitual, I shame them into amendment, by gentle expostulation and forgiveness. If they are not capable of a generous shame, and the faults grow habitual, I part with them; but with such kindness, as makes their fellow-servants blame them, and take warning. I am fond of seeking occasions to praise them: and even when they mistake, if it be with a good intention, they have my approbation of the intention, and my endeavours to set them right as to the act. Sobriety is an indispensable qualification for my service; and for the rest, if we receive them not quite good, we make them better than they were before. Generally speaking, a master may make a servant what he pleases. Servants judge by example, rather than precept, and almost always by their feelings. One thing more permit me to add; I always insist upon my servants being kind and compassionate to one another. A compassionate heart cannot habitually be an unjust one. And thus do I make their good-nature contribute to my security, as well as quiet.

My lord was greatly pleased with what his nephew said.

Upon some occasion, Lady G—— reflected upon a lady for prudery, and was going on, when Sir Charles, interrupting her, said, Take care, Lady G——. You, ladies, take care; for I am afraid, that MODESTY, under this name, will become ignominious, and be banished the hearts, at least the behaviour and conversation, of all those whose fortunes or inclinations carry them often to places of public resort.

Talk of places of public resort! said Lord L——: It is vexatious to observe at such, how men of real merit are neglected by the fine ladies of the age, while every distinction is shewn to fops and foplings.

But, who, my lord, said Sir Charles, are those women? Are they not generally of a class with those men? Flippant women love empty men, because they cannot reproach them with a superiority of understanding, but keep their folly in countenance. They are afraid of a wise man: but I would by no means have such a one turn fool to please them: for they will despise the wise man's folly more than the silly man's, and with reason; because being uncharacteristic, it must sit more awkwardly upon him than the other's can do.

Yet wisdom itself, and the truest wisdom, goodness, said Mrs. Reeves, is sometimes thought to sit ungracefully, when it is uncharacteristic, not to the man, but to the times. She then named a person who was branded as a hypocrite, for performing all his duties publicly.

He will be worse spoken of, if he declines doing so, said Dr. Bartlett. His enemies will add the charge of cowardice; and not acquit him of the other.

Lady Gertrude being withdrawn, it was mentioned as a wonder, that so agreeable a woman, as she must have been in her youth, and still was for her years, should remain single. Lord G—— said, that she had had many offers: and once, before she was twenty, had like to have stolen a wedding: but her fears, he said, since that, had kept her single.

The longer, said Sir Charles, a woman remains unmarried, the more apprehensive she will be of entering into the state. At seventeen or eighteen a girl will plunge into it, sometimes without either fear or wit; at twenty she will begin to think; at twenty-four will weigh and discriminate; at twenty-eight will be afraid of venturing; at thirty will turn about, and look down the hill she has ascended; and, as occasions offer, and instances are given, will sometimes repent, sometimes rejoice, that she has gained that summit sola.

Indeed, said Mrs. Reeves, I believe in England many a poor girl goes up the hill with a companion she would little care for, if the state of a single woman were not here so peculiarly unprovided and helpless: for girls of slender fortunes, if they have been genteelly brought up, how can they, when family connexions are dissolved, support themselves? A man can rise in a profession, and if he acquires wealth in a trade, can get above it, and be respected. A woman is looked upon as demeaning herself, if she gains a maintenance by her needle, or by domestic attendance on a superior; and without them where has she a retreat?

You speak, good Mrs. Reeves, said Sir Charles, as if you would join with Dr. Bartlett and me in wishing the establishment of a scheme we have often talked over, though the name of it would make many a lady start. We want to see established in every county, Protestant Nunneries, in which single women of small or no fortunes might live with all manner of freedom, under such regulations as it would be a disgrace for a modest or good woman not to comply with, were she absolutely on her own hands; and to be allowed to quit it whenever they pleased.

Well, brother, said Lady G——, and why could you not have got all this settled a fortnight ago, (you that can carry every point,) and have made poor me a lady abbess?

You are still better provided for, my sister. But let the doctor and me proceed with our scheme. The governesses or matrons of the society I would have to be women of family, of unblamable characters from infancy, and noted equally for their prudence, good-nature, and gentleness of manners. The attendants, for the slighter services, should be the hopeful female children of the honest industrious poor.

Do you not, ladies, imagine, said Dr. Bartlett, that such a society as this, all women of unblemished reputation, employing themselves as each, (consulting her own genius,) at her admission, shall undertake to employ herself, and supported genteelly, some at more, some at less expense to the foundation, according to their circumstances, might become a national good; and particularly a seminary for good wives, and the institution a stand for virtue, in an age given up to luxury, extravagance, and amusements little less than riotous?

How could it be supported? said Lord W——.

Many of the persons, of which each community would consist, would be, I imagine, replied Sir Charles, no expense to it at all; as numbers of young women, joining their small fortunes, might be able, in such a society, to maintain themselves genteelly on their own income; though each, singly in the world, would be distressed. Besides, liberty might be given for wives, in the absence of their husbands, in this maritime country; and for widows, who, on the deaths of theirs, might wish to retire from the noise and hurry of the world, for three, six, or twelve months, more or less; to reside in this well-regulated society. And such persons, we may suppose, would be glad, according to their respective abilities, to be benefactresses to it. No doubt but it would have besides the countenance of the well-disposed of both sexes; since every family in Britain, in their connexions and relations, near or distant, might be benefited by so reputable and useful an institution: to say nothing of the works of the ladies in it, the profits of which perhaps will be thought proper to be carried towards the support of a foundation that so genteelly supports them. Yet I would have a number of hours in each day, for the encouragement of industry, that should be called their own; and what was produced in them, to be solely appropriated to their own use.

A truly worthy divine, at the appointment of the bishop of the diocese, to direct and animate the devotion of such a society, and to guard it from that superstition and enthusiasm which soars to wild heights in almost all nunneries, would confirm it a blessing to the kingdom.

I have another scheme, my lord, proceeded Sir Charles—An hospital for female penitents; for such unhappy women, as having been once drawn in, and betrayed by the perfidy of men, find themselves, by the cruelty of the world, and principally by that of their own sex, unable to recover the path of virtue, when perhaps, (convinced of the wickedness of the men in whose honour they confided,) they would willingly make their first departure from it the last.

These, continued he, are the poor creatures who are eminently entitled to our pity, though they seldom meet with it. Good nature, and credulity, the child of good nature; are generally, as I have the charity to believe, rather than viciousness, the foundation of their crime. Those men who pretend they would not be the first destroyers of a woman's innocence, look upon these as fair prize. But, what a wretch is he, who seeing a poor creature exposed on the summit of a dangerous precipice, and unable, without an assisting hand, to find her way down, would rather push her into the gulf below, than convey her down in safety?

Speaking of the force put upon a daughter's inclinations in wedlock; Tyranny and ingratitude, said Sir Charles, from a man beloved, will be more supportable to a woman of strong passions, than even kindness from a man she loves not: Shall not parents then, who hope to see their children happy, avoid compelling them to give their hands to a man who has no share in their hearts?

But would you allow young ladies to be their own choosers, Sir Charles? said Mr. Reeves.

Daughters, replied he, who are earnest to choose for themselves, should be doubly careful that prudence justifies their choice. Every widow who marries imprudently, (and very many there are who do,) furnishes a strong argument in favour of a parent's authority over a maiden daughter. A designing man looks out for a woman who has an independent fortune, and has no questions to ask. He seems assured of finding indiscretion and rashness in such a one, to befriend him. But ought not she to think herself affronted, and resolve to disappoint him?

But how, said Lady G——, shall a young creature be able to judge—

By his application to her, rather than to her natural friends and relations; by his endeavouring to alienate her affections from them; by wishing her to favour private and clandestine meetings (conscious that his pretensions will not stand discussion); by the inequality of his fortune to hers: and has not our excellent Miss Byron, in the letters to her Lucy, (bowing to me,) which she has had the goodness to allow us to read, helped us to a criterion? 'Men in their addresses to young women,' she very happily observes, 'forget not to set forward the advantages by which they are distinguished, whether hereditary or acquired; while love, love, is all the cry of him who has no other to boast of.'

And by that means, said Lady Gertrude, setting the silly creature at variance with all her friends, he makes her fight his battles for him; and become herself the cat's paw to help him to the ready roasted chesnuts.

But, dear brother, said Lady G——, do you think love is such a staid deliberate passion, as to allow a young creature to take time to ponder and weigh all the merits of the cause?

Love at first sight, answered Sir Charles, must indicate a mind prepared for impression, and a sudden gust of passion, and that of the least noble kind; since there could be no opportunity of knowing the merit of the object. What woman would have herself supposed capable of such a tindery fit? In a man, it is an indelicate paroxysm: but in a woman, who expects protection and instruction from a man, much more so. Love, at first, may be only fancy. Such a young love may be easily given up, and ought, to a parent's judgment. Nor is the conquest so difficult as some young creatures think it. One thing, my good Emily, let me say to you, as a rule of some consequence in the world you are just entering into—Young persons, on arduous occasions, especially in love-cases, should not presume to advise young persons; because they seldom can divest themselves of passion, partiality, or prejudice; that is, indeed, of youth; and forbear to mix their own concerns and biases with the question referred to them. It should not be put from young friend to young friend, What would you do in such a case? but, What ought to be done?

How the dear girl blushed, and how pleased she looked, to be particularly addressed by her guardian!

Lady Gertrude spoke of a certain father, who for interested views obliged his daughter to marry at fifteen, when she was not only indifferent to the man, but had formed no right notions of the state.

And are they not unhappy? asked Sir Charles.

They are, replied she.

I knew such an instance, returned he. The lady was handsome, and had her full share of vanity. She believed every man who said civil things to her, was in love with her; and had she been single, that he would have made his addresses to her. She supposed, that she might have had this great man, or that, had she not been precipitated: And this brought her to slight the man who had, as she concluded, deprived her of better offers. They were unhappy to the end of their lives. Had the lady lived single long enough to find out the difference between compliment and sincerity, and that the man who flattered her vanity, meant no more than to take advantage of her folly, she would have thought herself not unhappy with the very man with whom she was so dissatisfied.

Lady L—— speaking afterwards of a certain nobleman, who is continually railing against matrimony, and who makes a very indifferent husband to an obliging wife: I have known more men than one, said Sir Charles, inveigh against matrimony, when the invective would have proceeded with a much better grace from their wives' lips than from theirs. But let us inquire, would this complainer have been, or deserved to be, happier in any state, than he now is?

A state of suffering, said Lady L——, had probably humbled the spirit of the poor wife into perfect meekness and patience.

You observe rightly, replied Sir Charles: And surely a most kind disposition of Providence it is, that adversity, so painful in itself, should conduce so peculiarly to the improvement of the human mind: It teaches modesty, humility, and compassion.

You speak feelingly brother, said Lady L——, with a sigh. Do you think, Lucy, nobody sighed but she?

I do, said he. I speak with a sense of gratitude: I am naturally of an imperious spirit: But I have reaped advantages, from the early stroke of a mother's death. Being for years, against my wishes, obliged to submit to a kind of exile from my native country, which I considered as a heavy evil, though I thought it my duty to acquiesce, I was determined, as much as my capacity would allow, to make my advantage of the compulsion, by qualifying myself to do credit, rather than discredit, to my father, my friends, and my country. And, let me add, that if I have in any tolerable manner succeeded, I owe much to the example and precepts of my dear Dr. Bartlett.

The doctor blushed and bowed, and was going to disclaim the merit which his patron had ascribed to him; but Sir Charles confirmed it in still stronger terms: You, my dear Dr. Bartlett, said he, as I have told Miss Byron, was a second conscience to me in my earlier youth: Your precepts, your excellent life, your pure manners, your sweetness of temper, could not but open and enlarge my mind. The soil, I hope I may say, was not barren; but you, my dear paternal friend, was the cultivator: I shall ever acknowledge it—And he bowed to the good man; who was covered with modest confusion, and could not look up.

And think you, Lucy, that this acknowledgment lessened the excellent man with any one present? No! It raised him in every eye: and I was the more pleased with it, as it helped me to account for that deep observation, which otherwise one should have been at a loss to account for, in so young a man. And yet I am convinced, that there is hardly a greater difference in intellect between angel and man, than there is between man and man.



LETTER XXIII

LADY G——, TO MISS BYRON THURSDAY, APRIL 13.

For Heaven's sake, my dearest Harriet! dine with us to-day; for two reasons: one relates to myself; the other you shall hear by and by: To myself, first, as is most fit—This silly creature has offended me, and presumed to be sullen upon my resentment. Married but two days, and shew his airs!—Were I in fault, my dear, (which, upon my honour, I am not,) for the man to lose his patience with me, to forget his obligations to me, in two days!—What an ungrateful wretch is he! What a poor powerless creature your Charlotte!

Nobody knows of the matter, except he has complained to my brother—If he has! But what if he has?—Alas! my dear, I am married; and cannot help myself.

We seem, however, to be drawing up our forces on both sides.—One struggle for my dying liberty, my dear!—The success of one pitched battle will determine which is to be the general, which the subaltern, for the rest of the campaign. To dare to be sullen already!—As I hope to live, my dear, I was in high good humour within myself; and when he was foolish, only intended a little play with him; and he takes it in earnest. He worships you: so I shall rally him before you: but I charge you, as the man by his sullenness has taken upon him to fight his own battle, either to be on my side, or be silent. I shall take it very ill of my Harriet, if she strengthen his hands.

Well, but enough of this husband—HUSBAND! What a word!—Who do you think is arrived from abroad?—You cannot guess for your life—Lady OLIVIA!—True as you are alive! accompanied, it seems, by an aunt of hers; a widow, whose years and character are to keep the niece in countenance in this excursion. The pretence is, making the tour of Europe: and England was not to be left out of the scheme. My brother is excessively disturbed at her arrival. She came to town but last night. He had notice of it but this morning. He took Emily with him to visit her: Emily was known to her at Florence. She and her aunt are to be here at dinner. As she is come, Sir Charles says, he must bring her acquainted with his sisters, and their lords, in order to be at liberty to pursue the measures he has unalterably resolved upon: and this, Harriet, is my second reason for urging you to dine with us.

Now I do wish we had known her history at large. Dr. Bartlett shall tell it us. Unwelcome as she is to my brother, I long to see her. I hope I shall not hear something in her story, that will make me pity her.

Will you come?

I wonder whether she speaks English, or not. I don't think I can converse in Italian.

I won't forgive you, if you refuse to come.

Lady L—— and her good man will be here. We shall therefore, if you come, be our whole family together.

My brother has presented this house to me, till his return. He calls himself Lord G——'s guest and mine: so you can have no punctilio about it. Besides, Lord W—— will set out to-morrow morning for Windsor. He dotes upon you: and perhaps it is in your power to make a new-married man penitent and polite.

So you must come.

Hang me, if I sign by any other name, while this man is in fits, than that of

CHARLOTTE GRANDISON.



LETTER XXIV

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY THURSDAY, APRIL 13.

I send you enclosed a letter I received this morning from Lady G——. I will suppose you have read it.

Emily says, that the meeting between Sir Charles and the lady mentioned in it, was very polite on both sides: but more cold on his than on hers. She made some difficulty, however, of dining at his house; and her aunt, Lady Maffei, more. But on Sir Charles's telling them, that he would bring his elder sister to attend them thither, they complied.

When I went to St. James's-square, Sir Charles and Lady L—— were gone in his coach to bring the two ladies.

Lady G—— met me on the stairs-head, leading into her dressing-room. Not a word, said she, of the man's sullens: He repents: A fine figure, as I told him, of a bridegroom, would he make in the eyes of foreign ladies, at dinner, were he to retain his gloomy airs. He has begged my pardon; as good as promised amendment; and I have forgiven him.

Poor Lord G——, said I.

Hush, hush! He is within: he will hear you: and then perhaps repent of his repentance.

She led me in: my lord had a glow in his cheeks, and looked as if he had been nettled; and was but just recovering a smile, to help to carry off the petulance. O how saucily did her eyes look! Well, my lord, said she, I hope—But you say, I misunderstood—No more, madam, no more, I beseech you—

Well, sir, not a word more, since you are—

Pray, madam—

Well, well, give me your hand—You must leave Harriet and me together.

She humorously courtesied to him as he bowed to me, taking the compliment as to herself. She nodded her head to him, as he turned back his when he was at the door; and when he was gone, If I can but make this man orderly, said she, I shall not quarrel with my brother for hurrying me, as he has done.

You are wrong, excessively wrong, Charlotte: you call my lord a silly man, but can have no proof that he is so, but by his bearing this treatment from you.

None of your grave airs, my dear. The man is a good sort of man, and will be so, if you and Lady L—— don't spoil him. I have a vast deal of roguery, but no ill-nature, in my heart. There is luxury in jesting with a solemn man, who wants to assume airs of privilege, and thinks he has a right to be impertinent. I'll tell you how I will manage—I believe I shall often try his patience, and when I am conscious that I have gone too far, I will be patient if he is angry with me; so we shall be quits. Then I'll begin again: he will resent: and if I find his aspect very solemn—Come, come, no glouting, friend, I will say, and perhaps smile in his face: I'll play you a tune, or sing you a song—Which, which! Speak in a moment, or the humour will be off.

If he was ready to cry before, he will laugh then, though against his will: and as he admires my finger, and my voice, shall we not be instantly friends?

It signified nothing to rave at her: she will have her way. Poor Lord G——! At my first knowledge of her, I thought her very lively; but imagined not that she was indiscreetly so.

Lord G——'s fondness for his saucy bride was, as I have reason to believe, his fault: I dared not to ask for particulars of their quarrel: and if I had, and found it so, could not, with such a rallying creature, have entered into his defence, or censured her.

I went down a few moments before her. Lord G—— whispered me, that he should be the happiest man in the world, if I, who had such an influence over her, would stand his friend.

I hope, my lord, said I, that you will not want any influence but your own. She has a thousand good qualities. She has charming spirits. You will have nothing to bear with but from them. They will not last always. Think only, that she can mean nothing by the exertion of them, but innocent gaiety; and she will every day love your lordship the better for bearing with her. You know she is generous and noble.

I see, madam, said he, she has let you into—

She has not acquainted me with the particulars of the little misunderstanding; only has said, that there had been a slight one; which was quite made up.

I am ashamed, replied he, to have it thought by Miss Byron, that there could have been a misunderstanding between us, especially so early. She knows her power over me. I am afraid she despises me.

Impossible, my lord! Have you not observed, that she spares nobody when she is in a lively humour?

True—But here she comes!—Not a word, madam!—I bowed assenting silence. Lord G—— said, she, approaching him, in a low voice, I shall be jealous of your conversations with Miss Byron.

Would to heaven, my dearest life! snatching at her withdrawn hand, that—

I were half as good as Miss Byron: I understand you: but time and patience, sir; nodding to him, and passing him.

Admirable creature! said he, how I adore her!

I hinted to her afterwards, his fear of her despising him. Harriet, answered she, with a serious air, I will do my duty by him. I will abhor my own heart, if I ever find in it the shadow of a regard for any man in the world, inconsistent with that which he has a right to expect from me.

I was pleased with her. And found an opportunity to communicate what she said, in confidence, to my lord; and had his blessings for it.

But now for some account of Lady Olivia. With which I will begin a new letter.



LETTER XXV

MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION

Sir Charles returned with the ladies. He presented to Lady Olivia and her aunt, Lady G——, Lord L——, and Lord W——. I was in another apartment talking with Dr. Bartlett. Lady Olivia asked for the doctor. He left me to pay his respects to her.

Sir Charles being informed, that I was in the house, told Lady Olivia, that he hoped he should have the honour of presenting to her one of our English beauties; desiring Lady G—— to request my company.

Lady G—— came to me—A lovely woman, I assure you, Harriet; let me lead you to her.

Sir Charles met me at the entrance of the drawing-room: Excuse me, madam, said he, taking my hand, with profound respect, and allow me to introduce to a very amiable Italian lady, one who does so much honour to Britain.— Miss Byron, madam, addressing himself to her, salutes you. The advantages of person are her least perfection.

Her face glowed. Miss Byron, said she, in French, is all loveliness. A relation, sir? in Italian.

He bowed; but answered not her question.

I would sooner forgive you here, whispered Lady Olivia to Sir Charles, in Italian, looking at me, than at Bologna.

I heard her; and by my confusion shewed that I understood her. She was in confusion too.

Mademoiselle, said she, in French, understands Italian.—I am ashamed, monsieur.

Miss Byron does, answered Sir Charles; and French too.

I must have the honour, said she in French, to be better known to you, mademoiselle.

I answered her as politely as I could in the same language.

Lady OLIVIA is really a lovely woman. Her complexion is fine. Her face oval. Every feature of it is delicate. Her hair is black; and, I think, I never saw brighter black eyes in my life: if possible, they are brighter, and shine with a more piercing lustre, than even Sir Charles Grandison's: but yet I give his the preference; for we see in them a benignity, that hers, though a woman's, has not; and a thoughtfulness, as if something lay upon his mind, which nothing but patience could overcome; yet mingled with an air that shews him to be equal to any thing, that can be undertaken by man. While Olivia's eyes shew more fire and impetuosity than sweetness. Had I not been told it, I should have been sure that she has a violent spirit: but on the whole, she is a very fine figure of a woman.

She talked of taking a house, and staying in England a year at least; and was determined, she said, to perfect herself in the language, and to become an Englishwoman: but when Sir Charles, in the way of discourse, mentioned his obligation to leave England, as on next Friday morning, how did she and her aunt look upon each other! And how was the sunshine that gilded her fine countenance, shut in! Surely, sir, said her aunt, you are not in earnest!

After dinner, the two ladies retired with Sir Charles, at his motion. Dr. Bartlett, at Lady G——'s request, then gave us this short sketch of her history. He said, she had a vast fortune: she had had indiscretions; but none that had affected her character as to virtue: but her spirit could not bear control. She had shewn herself to be vindictive, even to a criminal degree. Lord bless me, my dear! the doctor has mentioned to me in confidence, that she always carries a poniard about her; and that once she used it. Had the person died, she would have been called to public account for it. The man, it seems, was of rank, and offered some slight affront to her. She now comes over, the doctor said, as he had reason to believe, with a resolution to sacrifice even her religion, if it were insisted upon, to the passion she had so long in vain endeavoured to conquer.

She has, he says, an utter hatred to Lady Clementina; and will not be able to govern her passion, he is sure, when Sir Charles shall acquaint her, that he is going to attend that lady, and her family: for he has only mentioned his obligation to go abroad; but not said whither.

Lord W—— praised the person of the lady, and her majestic air. Lord L—— and Lord G—— wished to be within hearing of the conference between her and Sir Charles: so did Lady G——: and while they were thus wishing, in came Sir Charles, his face all in a glow; Lady L——, said he, be so good as to attend Lady Olivia.

She went to her; Sir Charles staid not with us: yet went not to the lady; but into his study. Dr. Bartlett attended him there: the doctor returned soon after to us. His noble heart is vexed, said he: Lady Olivia has greatly disturbed him: he chooses to be alone.

Lady L—— afterwards told us, that she found the lady in violent anguish of spirit; her aunt endeavouring to calm her: she, however, politely addressed herself to Lady L——, and begging her aunt to withdraw for a few moments, she owned to her, in French, her passion for her brother: She was not, she said, ashamed to own it to his sister, who must know that his merit would dignify the passion of the noblest woman. She had endeavoured, she said, to conquer hers: she had been willing to give way to the prior attachments that he had pleaded for a lady of her own country, Signora Clementina della Porretta, whom she allowed to have had great merit; but who, having irrecoverably been put out of her right mind, was shut up at Naples by a brother, who vowed eternal enmity to Sir Charles; and from whom his life would be in the utmost hazard, if he went over. She owned, that her chief motive for coming to England was, to cast her fortune at her brother's feet; and, as she knew him to be a man of honour, to comply with any terms he should propose to her. He had offered to the family della Porretta to allow their daughter her religion, and her confessor, and to live with her every other year in Italy. She herself, not inferior in birth, in person, in mind, as she said, she presumed, and superior in fortune, the riches of three branches of her family, all rich, having centred in her, insisted not now upon such conditions. Her aunt, she said, knew not that she proposed, on conviction, a change of her religion; but she was resolved not to conceal anything from Lady L——. She left her to judge how much she must be affected, when he declared his obligation to leave England; and especially when he owned, that it was to go to Bologna, and that so suddenly, as if, as she apprehended at first, it was to avoid her. She had been in tears, she said, and even would have kneeled to him, to induce him to suspend his journey for one month, and then to have taken her over with him, and seen her safe in her own palace, if he would go upon so hated, and so fruitless, as well as so hazardous an errand: but he had denied her this poor favour.

This refusal, she owned, had put her out of all patience. She was unhappily passionate; but was the most placable of her sex. What, madam, said she, can affect a woman, if slight, indignity, and repulse, from a favoured person, is not able to do it? A woman of my condition to come over to England, to solicit—how can I support the thought—and to be refused the protection of the man she prefers to all men; and her request to see her safe back again, though but as the fool she came over!—You may blame me, madam—but you must pity me, even were you to have a heart the sister heart of your inflexible brother.

In vain did Lady L—— plead to her Lady Clementina's deplorable situation; the reluctance of his own relations to part with him; and the magnanimity of his self-denial in a hundred instances, on the bare possibility of being an instrument to restore her: she could not bear to hear her speak highly of the unhappy lady. She charged Clementina with the pride of her family, to which she attributed their deserved calamity; [Deserved! Cruel lady! How could her pitiless heart allow her lips to utter such a word!] and imputed meanness to the noblest of human minds, for yielding to the entreaties of a family, some of the principals of which, she said, had treated him with an arrogance that a man of his spirit ought not to bear.