(without shocking you by the recital,) what were the common-place pleas of those libertines, despisers of marriage, of the laws of society, and of WOMEN, but as they were subservient to their pleasures.

TO THE BARONE DELLA PORRETTA.

WILL my Jeronymo allow his friend, his Grandison, the liberty he is going to take with him? If the friendship he professes for him be such a one, as a great mind can, on reflection, glory in, he will. And what is this liberty, but such as constitutes the essence of true friendship? Allow me, on this occasion, to say, that your Grandison has seen more of the world than most men, who have lived no longer in it, have had an opportunity to see. I was sent abroad for improvement, under the care of a man who came out to be the most intriguing and profligate of those to whom a youth was ever entrusted. I saw in him, the inconvenience, the odiousness, of libertinism; and, by the assistance of an excellent monitor, with whom I happily became acquainted, and, (would it not be false shame, and cowardice, if I did not say,) by the Divine assistance, I escaped snares that were laid to corrupt my morals; hence, my dearest friend will the more readily allow me to impart to him some of the lessons that were of so much use to myself.

I am the rather encouraged to take this liberty, as I have often flattered myself, that I have seen my Jeronymo affected by the arguments urged in the course of the conversations that have been held in our select meetings at Padua and at Rome; in which the cause of virtue and true honour has been discussed and pleaded.

I have now no hopes of influencing any one of the noble youths, whom, at your request, I have of late so often met ; but of you I still have hopes, because you continue to declare, that you prefer my friendship to theirs. You think that I was disgusted at the ridicule with which they generally treated the arguments they could not answer; but, as far as I innocently could, I followed them in their levity. I returned raillery for ridicule, and not always, as you know, unsuccessfully; but still they renewed the charge, and we had the same arguments one day to refute, that the preceding were given up. They could not convince me, nor I them.

I quit, therefore, (yet not without regret,) the society I cannot meet with pleasure; but let not my Jeronymo renounce me. In his opinion I had the honour to stand high, before I was prevailed upon to be introduced to them; we cultivated, with mutual pleasure, each other's acquaintance, independent of this association. Let us be to each other, what we were for the first month of our intimacy. You have noble quali

ties; but are diffident, and too often suffer yourself to be influenced by men of talents inferior to your own.

The ridicule they have aimed at, has weakened, perhaps, the force of the arguments that I wished to have a more than temporary effect on your heart. Permit me to remind you on paper, of some of them, and urge to you others; the end I have in view is your good, in hopes to confirm, by the efficacy they may have on you, my own principles; nor think me too serious. The occasion, the call that true friendship makes upon you, is weighty.

You have shewed me letters from your noble father, from your mother, from the pious prelate your brother, and others from your uncle; and still, if possible, more admirable ones, from your sister-All filled with concern for your present and future welfare! How dearly is my Jeronymo beloved by his whole family! and by such a family! And how tenderly does he love them all-What ought to be the result? Jeronymo cannot be ungrateful. He knows so well what belongs to the character of a dutiful son, an affectionate brother, that I will not attempt to enforce their arguments upon him.

By the endeavours of my friend to find excuses for some of the liberties in which he allows himself, I infer, that, if he thought them criminal, he has too much honour to be guilty of them. He cannot say, with the mad Medea,

-Video meliora, proboque; Deteriora sequor.

No! His judgment must be misled, before he can allow himself in a deviation. But let him beware; for has not every faulty inclination something to plead in its own behalf?— Excuses, my dear friend, are more than tacit confessions; and the health of the mind, as of the body, is impaired by almost imperceptible degrees.

My Jeronymo has pleaded, and justly may he boast of, a disposition to benevolence, charity, generosity-What pity, that he cannot be still more perfect!-that he resolves not against meditated injuries to others of his fellow creatures! But remember, my lord, that true goodness is an uniform thing, and will alike influence every part of a man's conduct; and that true generosity will not be confined to obligations, either written or verbal.

Besides, who, though in the least guilty instance, and where some false virtue may hold out colours to palliate an excess, can promise himself to stop, when once he has thrown the reins on the neck of lawless appetite? And may I not add, that my Jeronymo is not in his own power? He suffers himself to be a led man?O that he would choose his company anew, and be a leader! Every virtue, then, that warms his heart, would have a sister-virtue to encou

rage the noble flame, instead of a vice to damp

it.

Justly do you boast of the nobility of your descent; of the excellency of every branch of your family; bear with my question, my lord: Are you determined to sit down satisfied with the honour of your ancestors? Your progenitors, and every one of your family, have given you reason to applaud their worthiness; will you not give them cause to boast of yours?

In answer to the earnest entreaties of all your friends, that you will marry, you have said, that, were women angels, you would with joy enter into the state-But what ought the men to be, who form upon women such expectations ?

Can you, my dear lord, despise matrimony, yet hold it to be a sacrament? Can you, defy ing the maxims of your family, and wishing to have the sister I have heard you mention with such high delight and admiration, strengthen your family interest in the female line, determine against adding to its strength in the male? You have suffered yourself to speak with contempt of the generality of the Italian women; for their illiterateness. Let not their misfortune be imputed to them, my noble friend, as their fault. They have the same natural geniuses that used to distinguish the men and women of your happy climate. Let not the want of cultivation induce you, a learned man, to hold them cheap. The cause of virtue, and of the sex, can hardly be separated.

But, O my friend! my Jeronymo! have I not too much reason to fear, that guilty attachments have been the cause of your slighting a legal one?—That you are studying for pretences to justify the way of life into which you have fallen?

Let us consider the objects of your pursuit -Alas! there have been more than one!Are they women seduced from the path of virtue by yourself?-Who otherwise, perhaps, would have married, and made useful members of society?-Consider, my friend, what a capital crime is a seduction of this kind!-Can you glory in the virtue of a sister of your own, and allow yourself in attempts upon the daughter, the sister, of another? And, let me ask, how can that crime be thought pardonable in a man, which renders a woman infamous?

A good heart, a delicate mind, cannot associate with a corrupt one. What tie can bind a woman, who has parted with her honour? What, in such a guilty attachment, must be a man's alternative, but either to be the tyrant of a wretch who has given him reason to despise her, or the dupe of one who despises him?

It is the important lesson of life, (allow me to be serious on a subject so serious,) in this union of soul and body, to restrain the unruly appetites of the latter, and to improve the faculties of the former-Can this end be attained

by licentious indulgencies, and profligate associations?

Men, in the pride of their hearts, are apt to suppose, that nature has designed them to be superior to women. The highest proof that can be given of such superiority, is in the protection afforded by the stronger to the weaker. What can that man say for himself, or for his proud pretension, who employs all his arts to seduce, betray, and ruin, the creature whom he should guide and protect-Sedulous to save her, perhaps, from every foe, but the devil and himself!

It is unworthy of a man of spirit to be solicitous to keep himself within the boundaries of human laws, on no other motive than to avoid the temporal inconveniencies attending the breach of them. The laws were not made so much for the direction of good men, as to circumscribe the bad. Would a man of honour wish to be considered as one of the latter, rather than as one of those who have distinguished the fit from the unfit, had they not been discriminated by human sanctions? Men are to approve themselves at an higher tribunal than at that of men.

Shall not public spirit, virtue, and a sense of duty, have as much influence on a manly heart as a new face? How contemptibly low is that commerce in which mind has no share!

Virtuous love, my dear Jeronymo ! looks beyond this temporary scene; while guilty attachments usually find a much earlier period than that of human life. Inconstancy, on one side or the other, seldom fails to put a disgraceful end to them. But were they to endure for life, what can the reflections upon them do towards softening the agonies of the inevitable hour?

Remember, my Jeronymo, that you are a MAN, a rational and immortal agent; and act up to the dignity of your nature. Can sensual pleasure be the great end of an immortal spirit in this life?

That pleasure cannot be lasting, and it must be followed by remorse, which is obtained either by doing injustice to, or degrading a fellowcreature. And does not a woman, when she forfeits her honour, degrade herself, not only in the sight of the world, but in the secret thoughts of even a profligate lover, destroying her own consequence with him?

Build not, my noble friend, upon penances and absolutions: I enter not into those subjects on which we differ as Catholics and Protestants; but, if we would be thought men of true greatness of mind, let us endeavour so to act, as not, in essential articles, and with our eyes open, either to want absolution, or incur penances. Surely, my lord, it is nobler not to offend, than to be obliged to atone.

Are there not, let me ask, innocent delights enow to fill with joy every vacant hour? Believe me, Jeronymo, there are. Let you and

me seek for such, and make them the cement of our friendship.

Religion out of the question, consider, what morals and good policy will oblige you to do, as a man born to act a part in public life. What, were the examples set by you and your acquaintance to be generally followed, would become of public order and decorum? What of national honours? How will a regular succession in families be kept up? You, my lord, boast of your descent, both by father's and mother's side; why will you deprive your children of a distinction in which you glory?

Good children, what a blessing to their parents! But what comfort can the parent have in children born into the world heirs of disgrace, and who, owing their very being to profligate principles, have no family honour to support, no fair example to imitate, but must be warn ed by their father, when bitter experience has convinced him of his errors, to avoid the paths in which he has trod?

How delightful the domestic connection! To bring to the paternal and fraternal dwellings, a sister, a daughter, that shall be received there with tender love; to strengthen your own interest in the world by alliance with some noble and worthy family, who shall rejoice to trust to the Barone della Porretta the darling of their hopes-This would, to a generous heart, like yours, be the source of infinite delights. But could you now think of introducing to the friends you revere, the unhappy objects of a vagrant affection? Must not my Jeronymo even estrange himself from his home, to conceal from his father, from his mother, from his sister, persons shut out by all the laws of honour from their society? The persons, so shut out, must hate the family to whose interests theirs are so contrary. What sincere union then, what sameness of affection, between Jeronymo and the objects of his passion ?

But the present hour dances delightfully away, and my friend will not look beyond it. His gay companions applaud and compliment him on his triumphs. In general, perhaps, he allows," that the welfare and order of society ought to be maintained by submission to divine and human laws; but his single exception for himself can be of no importance." Of what, then, is general practice made up?-If every one excepts himself, and offends in the instance that best suits his inclination, what a scene of horror will this world become! Affluence and a gay disposition tempt to licentious pleasures; penury and a gloomy one, to robbery, revenge, and murder. Not one enormity will be without its plea, if once the boundaries of duty are thrown down. But, even in this universal depravity, would not his crime be much worse, who robbed me of my child from riot and licentiousness, and under the guise of love and trust, than his who despoiled me of my sub

stance, and had necessity to plead in extenuation of his guilt?

I cannot doubt, my dear friend, but you will take, at least, kindly, these expostulations, though some of them are upon subjects on which our conversations have been hitherto ineffectual. I submit them to your consideration. I can have no interest in making them; nor motive, but what proceeds from that true friendship with which I desire to be thought Most affectionately yours.

You have heard, my good Miss Byron, that the friendship between Mr Grandison and Signor Jeronymo was twice broken off; once it was, by the unkindly-taken freedom of the expostulatory letter. Jeronymo, at that time of his life, ill-brooked opposition in any pursuit his heart was engaged in. When pushed, he was vehement; and Mr Grandison could not be over-solicitous to keep up a friendship with a young man who was under the dominion of his dissolute companions; and who would not allow of remonstrances, in cases that concerned his morals.

Jeronymo having afterwards been drawn into great inconveniencies by his libertine friends, broke with them; and Mr Grandison and he meeting by accident at Padua, their friendship, at the pressing instances of Jeronymo, was again renewed.

Jeronymo thought himself reformed; Mr Grandison hoped he was; but, soon after, a temptation fell in his way, which he could not resist. It was from a lady, who was more noted for her birth, beauty, and fortune, than for her virtue. She had spread her snares for Mr Grandison before Jeronymo became acquainted with her; and revenge for her slighted advances taking possession of her heart, she hoped an opportunity would be afforded her of wreaking it upon him.

The occasion was given by the following letter, which Mr Grandison thought himself obliged, in honour, to write to his friend, on his attachment; the one being then at Padua, the other at Cremona.

I AM extremely concerned, my dear Jeronymo, at your new engagement with a lady, who, though of family and fortune, has shewn but little regard to her character. How frail are the resolutions of men! How much in the power of women! But I will not reproach-Yet I cannot but regret, that I must lose your company in our projected visits to the German courts; this, however, more for your sake than my own; since to the principal of them I am no stranger. You have excused yourself to me: I wish you had a better motive; but I write rather to warn, than to upbraid you. This lady is mistress of all the arts of woman. She may glory in her

conquest; you ought not to be proud of yours. You will not, when you know her better. I have had singular opportunity of being acquainted with her character. I never judged of characters, of women's especially, by report. Had the Barone della Porretta been the first for whom this lady spread her blandishments, a man so amiable as he is, might the more assuredly have depended on the love she professes for him. She has two admirers, men of violence, who, unknown to each other, have equal reason to look upon her as their own. You propose not to marry her. I am silent on this subject. Would to Heaven you were married to a woman of virtue! Why will you not oblige all your friends? Thus liable as you are-But neither do I expostulate. Well do I know the vehemency with which you are wont to pursue a new adventure. Yet I had hoped-But again I restrain myself. Only let me add, that the Iman who shall boast of his success with this lady may have more to apprehend from the competition in which he will find himself engaged, than he can be aware of. Be prudent, my Jeronymo, in this pursuit, for your own sake. The heart that dictates this advice is wholly yours; but, alas! it boasts no farther interest in that of its Jeronymo. With infinite regret I subscribe to the latter part of the sentence the once better-regarded name of

GRANDISON.

AND what was the consequence? The unhappy youth, by the instigation of the revengeful woman, defied his friend, in her behalf. Mr Grandison, with a noble disdain, appealed to Jeronymo's cooler deliberation; and told him that he never would meet as a foe, the man he had ever been desirous to consider as his friend. You know, my lord, said he, that I am under a disadvantage in having once been obliged to assert myself, in a country where I have no natural connections; and where you, Jeronymo, have many. If we meet again, I do assure you it must be by accident; and if that happens, we shall then find it time enough to discuss the occasion of our present misunderstanding.

Their next meeting was indeed by accident. It was in the Cremonese; when Mr Grandison saved his life.

AND now, madam, let me give you, in answer to your second inquiry,

The particulars of the conference which Sir Charles was put upon holding with Clementina, in favour of the Count of Belvedere ; and which her father and mother, unknown to either of them, overheard.

You must suppose them seated; a Milton's Paradise Lost before them; and that, at this

time, Mr Grandison did not presume that the young lady had any particular regard for him. Clem. You have taught the prelate, and you have taught the soldier, to be in love with your Milton, sir; but I shall never admire him, I doubt. Don't you reckon the language hard and crabbed?

Gr. I did not propose him to you, madam; your brother chose him. We should not have made the proficiency we have, had I not began with you by easier authors. But you have heard me often call him a sublime poet, and your ambition (it is a laudable one) leads you to make him your own too soon. Has not your tutor taken the liberty to chide you for your impatience; for your desire of being everything at once?

Clem. You have; and I own my fault-But to have done, for the present, with Milton; what shall I do to acquit myself of the addresses of this Count of Belvedere?

Gr. Why would you acquit yourself of the Count's addresses?

Clem. He is not the man I can like; I have told my papa as much, and he is angry with

me.

Gr. I think, madam, your papa may be a little displeased with you; though he loves you too tenderly to be angry with you. You reject the Count, without assigning a reason.

Clem. Is it not reason enough, that I don't like him?

Gr. Give me leave to say, that the Count is a handsome man. He is young, gallant, sensible; of a family ancient and noble; a grace to it. He is learned, good-natured; he adores

you

Clem. And so let him, if he will; I never can like him.

Gr. Dear lady! you must not be capricious. You will give the most indulgent parents in the world apprehension that you have cast your thoughts on some other object. Young ladies, except in a case of prepossession, do not often reject a person who has so many great and good qualities as shine in this gentleman; and where equality of degree, and a father's and mother's high approbation, add to his merit.

Clem. I suppose you have been spoken to, to talk with me on this subject-It is a subject I don't like.

Gr. You began it, madam.

Clem. I did so; because it is uppermost with me. I am grieved at my heart, that I cannot see the Count with my father's eyes; my father deserves from me every instance of duty, and love, and veneration; but I cannot think of the Count of Belvedere for a husband.

Gr. Dear madam, to whom is he this obsequious man, but to you-Is there a man in the world that behaves with a more proper dignity to every one else? Nay, to you, the lover shines out in him, but the man is not forgot. Is the tenderness shewn in a well-placed love, the veneration paid to a deservedly loving object, any derogation to the manly character? Far from it; and shall you think the less of your lover for being the most ardent, and I have no knowledge of the man, if he is not the most sincere, of men?

Clem. An excellent advocate !-I am sure you have been spoken to-Have you not? Tell me truly? Perhaps by the Count of Belvedere?

Gr. I should not think, and, of consequence, not speak, so highly as I do, of the Count, if he were capable of asking any man, your father and brothers excepted, to plead his cause with

you.

Clem. I can't bear to be chidden, chevalier. Now you are going to be angry with me too. But has not my mamma spoken to you?-Tell me?

Gr. Dear lady, consider, if she had, what you owe to a mother, who deserving, for her tenderness to her child, the utmost observance and duty, would condescend to put her authority into mediation. And yet let me declare, that no person breathing should make me say what I do not think, whether in favour or disfavour of any man.

Clem. That is no answer. I owe implicit, yes I will say implicit, duty to my mamma, for her indulgence to me; but what you have said is no direct answer.

Gr. For the honour of that indulgence, madam, I own to you, that your mamma and my lord too, have wished that their Clementina could or would give one substantial reason why she cannot like the Count of Belvedere; that they might prepare themselves to acquiesce with it, and the Count be induced to submit to his evil destiny.

Clem. And they have wished this to you, sir? And you have taken upon you to answer their wishes-I protest, you are a man of prodigious consequence with us all; and by your readiness to take up the cause of a man you have so lately known, you seem to know it too well.

Gr. I am sorry I have incurred your displeasure, madam.

Clem. You have. I never was more angry with you, than I now am.

Gr. I hope you never were angry with me before. I never gave you reason. And if I have now, I beg your pardon.

Clem. I am a very weak creature: I believe I am wrong; but I never knew what it was to give offence to anybody till within these few months. I love my father, I love my mother, beyond my own life; and to think that now, when I wish most for the continuance of their goodness to me, I am in danger of forfeiting it! I can't bear it!-Do you forgive me, however. believe I have been too petulant to you. Your behaviour is noble, frank, disinterested. It has been a happiness that we have known you. You are everybody's friend. But yet I think it is a little officious in you to plead so very warmly for a man of whom you know so little; and when I told you, more than once, I could not like him.

I

Gr. Honoured as I am, by your whole family, with the appellation of a fourth son, a fourth brother; was I, dear madam, to blame to act up to the character? I know my own heart; and if I have consequence given me, I will act so as to deserve it; at least, my own heart shall give it to me.

Clem. Well, sir, you may be right: I am sure you mean to be right. But as it would be a diminution of the Count's dignity, to apply to you for a supposed interest in you, which he cannot have, it would be much more so, to have you interfere, where a father, mother, and other brothers, [You see, sir, I allow your claim of fourth brotherhood,] are supposed to have less weight; so no more of the Count of Belvedere, I beseech you, from your mouth.

Gr. One word more, only-Don't let the goodness of your father and mother be construed to the disadvantage of the parental character in them. They have not been positive. They have given their wishes, rather than their commands. Their tenderness for you, in a point so very tender, has made them unable to tell their own wishes to you, for fear they should not meet with yours; yet would be, perhaps, glad to hear one solid objection to their proposalAnd why? That they might admit of it—Impute, therefore, to my officiousness, what you please; and yet I would not wish to disoblige or offend you; but let their indulgence (they never will use their authority) have its full merit with you.

Clem. Your servant, sir. I never yet had a slight notion of their indulgence; and I hope I never shall. If you will go, go; but, sir, next time I am favoured with your lectures, it shall be upon languages, if you please; and not upon lovers.

I withdrew, profoundly bowing. But surely, thought I, the lovely Clementina is capricious.

THUS far my patron.-Let me add, that the Marchioness, having acquainted Mr Grandison, that her lord and she had heard every word that had passed, expressed her displeasure at her daughter's petulance; and, thanking him in her lord's name, as well as for herself, for