Your refusal of many lovers; your declining the proposals of a man of the Count of Belvedere's consequence and merit; though approved of by every one of your friends; are convictions See, Camilla! interrupting me with quickness, the chevalier is convinced !-Pray let me have no more of your affronting questions and conjectures on this subject. I tell you, Camilla, I would not be in love for the world and all its glory. But, madam, if you will be pleased to assign one cause, to your mamma, for the melancholy turn your lively temper has taken, you will free yourself from a suspicion that gives you pain, as well as displeasure. Perhaps you are grieved that you cannot comply with your father's viewsPerhaps Assign one cause, again interrupted she-Assign one cause!-Why, sir-I am not well-I am not pleased with myself-as I told you. If it were anything that lay upon your mind, your conscience, madam; your confessor Would not make me easy. He is a good, but [turning aside and speaking low a severe man. Camilla hears not what I say. [She had dropped behind. He is more afraid of me, in some cases, than he need to be. And why? Because you have almost persuaded me to think charitably of people of different persuasions, by your noble charity for all mankind: which I think, heretic as you are, (forgive me, sir,) carries an appearance of true Christian goodness in it though Protestants, it seems, will persecute one another; but you would not be one of those, except you are one man in Italy, another in England. Your mother, madam, will ask, if you have honoured me with any part of your confidence. Her communicative goodness makes her think everybody should be as unreserved as herself. Your father is so good as to allow you to explain yourself to me, when he wishes that I could prevail upon you to open your mind to me in the character of a fourth brother. My lord the Bishop Yes, yes, sir, interrupted she, all our family worships you almost. I have myself a very great regard for you, as the fourth brother who has been the deliverer and preserver of my third. But, sir, who can prevail upon you, in anything you are determined upon ?-Had I anything upon my heart, I would not tell it to one, who, brought up in error, shuts his eyes against conviction, in an article in which his everlasting good is concerned. Let me call you a Catholic, sir, and I will not keep a thought of my heart from you. You shall indeed be my brother; and I shall free one of the holiest of men from his apprehensions on my conversing with so determined a heretic, as he thinks you. Then shall you, as my brother, command those secrets, if any I have, from that heart in which you think them locked up. Why then, madam, will you not declare them to your mamma, to your confessor, to my lord Bishop? Did I not say, If any I have? And is your reverend confessor uneasy at the favour of the family to me?-How causeless! Have I ever, madam, talked with you on the subject of religion? Well, but, sir, are you so obstinately determined in your errors, that there is no hope of convincing you? I really look. upon you, as my papa and mamma first bid me do, as my fourth brother I should be glad that all my brothers were of one religion. Will you allow Father Marescotti and Father Geraldino to enter into a conference with you on this subject? And if they can answer all your objections, will you act according to your convictions? I will not, by any means, madam, enter upon this subject. I have long intended, sir, to propose this matter to you. You have often intimated as much, madam, though not so directly as now; but the religion of my country is the religion of my choice. I have a great deal to say for it. It will not be heard with patience by such strict professors as either of those you have named. Were I to be questioned on this subject before the Pope, and the whole sacred college, I would not prevaricate: but good manners will make me shew respect to the religion of the country I happen to be in, were it the Mahometan, or even the Pagan; and to venerate the good men of it: but I never will enter into debate upon the subject, as a traveller, a sojourner; that is a rule with me. Well, sir, you are an obstinate man; that's all I will say. I pity you; with all my soul I pity you: you have great and good qualities. As I have sat at table with you, and heard you converse on subjects that every one has in silence admired you for, I have often thought to myself, Surely this man was not designed for perdition!-But, begone, chevalier; leave me. You are an obstinate man. Yours is the worst of obstinacy; for you will not give yourself a chance for conviction. We have so far departed from the subject we began upon, that it is proper to obey you, madam; I only beg that my sister Not so far departed from it, perhaps, as you imagine, interrupted she; and turned a blushing cheek from me-But what do you beg of your sister? That she will rejoice the most indulgent of parents, and the most affectionate of brothers, with a cheerful aspect at table, especially before the Patriarch. Do not, madam, in silence You find, sir, I have been talkative enough with you.-Shall we go through your Shakespeare's IIamlet to-night?-Farewell, chevalier. I will try to be cheerful at table. But, if I am not, let not your eye reproach me.-She took another walk. I was loath, my dear Dr Bartlett, to impute to myself the consequence with this amiable lady, which might but naturally be inferred from the turn which the conversation took; but I thought it no more than justice to the whole family, to hasten my departure: and when I hinted to Clementina, that I should soon take leave of them, I was rejoiced to find her unconcerned. THIS, my good Miss Byron, is what I find in my patron's letters relating to this conference. He takes notice, that the young lady behaved herself at table as she was wished to do. Mr Grandison was prevailed upon, by the entreaties of the whole family, to suspend his departure for a few days. The young lady's melancholy, to the inexpressible affliction of her friends, increased; yet she behaved with so much greatness of mind, that neither her mother, nor her Camilla, could persuade themselves that love was the cause. They sometimes imagined, that the earnestness with which they solicited the interest of the Count of Belvedere with her, had hurried and affected her delicate spirits; and therefore they were resolved to say little more on that subject till they should see her disposed to lend a more favourable ear to it: and the Count retired to his own palace at Parma, expecting and hoping for such a turn in his favour: for he declared, that it was impossible for him to think of any other woman for a wife. But Signor Jeronymo doubted not, all this time, of the cause; and, without letting anybody into his opinion, not even Mr Grandison, for fear a disappointment should affect him, resolved to make use of every opportunity that should offer, in favour of the man he loved, from a principle of gratitude, that reigned with exemplary force in the breast of every one of this noble family; a principle which took the firmer root in their hearts, as the prudence, generosity, magnanimity, and other great and equally amiable qualities of Mr Grandison, appeared every day more and more conspicuous to them all. I will soon, madam, present you with farther extracts from the letters in my possession, in pursuance of the articles you have given me in writing. I am not a little proud of my task. CONTINUATION OF MISS BYRON'S LETTER. out of this story, and the short account of it given by Sir Charles in the library conference, that I shall soon pay my duty to all in Northamptonshire? I shall, indeed. Is it not strange, my dear, that a father and mother, and brothers, so jealous as Italians, in general, are said to be, of their women; and so proud as this Bologna family is represented to be of their rank; should all agree to give so fine a man, as this is, in mind, person, and address, such free access to their daughter, a young lady of eighteen? Teach her English!-Very discreet in the father and mother, surely! And to commission him to talk with the poor girl in favour of a man whom they wished her to marry!-Indeed, you will say, perhaps, that by the honourable expedient they fell upon, unknown to either tutor or pupil, of listening to all that was to pass in the conference, they found a method to prove his integrity; and that, finding it proof, they were justified to prudence in their future confidence. With all my heart, Lucy: if you will excuse these parents, you may. But, I say, that anybody, though not of Italy, might have thought such a tutor as this was dangerous to a young lady; and the more, for being a man of honour and family. In every case, the teacher is the obliger. He is called master, you know: and where there is a master, a servant is implied. Who is it that seeks not out for a married man, among the common tribe of tutors, whether professing music, dancing, languages, science, of any kind? But a tutor such a one as this Well, but I will leave them to pay the price of their indiscretion. I AM this moment come from the Doctor. I insinuated to him, as artfully as I could, some of the above observations. He reminded me, that the Marchioness herself had her education at Paris; and says, that the manners of the Italians are very much altered of late years, and that the French freedom begins to take place, among the people of condition, in a very visible manner, of the Italian reserve. The women of the family of Porretta, particularly, he says, because of their learning, freedom, and conversableness, have been called, by their enemies, French women. But you will see, that honour, and the laws of hospitality, were Mr Grandison's guard: and I believe a young flame may be easily kept under. Sir Charles Grandison, Lucy, is used to do only what he ought. Dr Bartlett once said, that the life of a good man was a continual warfare with his passions. You will see, in the second conference between Mr Grandison and the lady, upon the melancholy way she was in, how artfully, yet, CAN you not, Lucy, gather from the setting I must own, honourably, he reminds her of the [Begun p. 298.] brotherly character which he passes under, to her! How officiously he sisters her! Ah, Lucy! your Harriet is his sister too, you know! He has been used to this dialect, and to check the passions of us forward girls; and yet I have gone on confessing mine to the whole venerable circle, and have almost gloried in it to them. Have not also his sisters detected me! While the noble Clementina, as in that admirable passage cited by her, Never told her love; But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, Feed on her damask cheek. How do I admire her for her silence! But yet, had she been circumstanced as your Harriet was, would Clementina have been so very reserved? Shall I run a parallel between our two cases? Clementina's rela- Harriet's relations tions were all solicitous were all solicitous, for her marrying the from the first, for an alCount of Belvedere, a liance with their child's man of unexception- deliverer. They never able character, of fa- had encouraged any mily, of fortune; and man's address; nor had who is said to be a gal- she: and all his nearlant and a handsome est and dearest friends man, and who adores were partial to her, and her, and is of her own soon grew ardent in her faith and country. favour. What difficulties had Clementina to contend with! It was great in her to endeavour to conquer a love, which she could not, either in duty, or with her judgment and conscience, acknowledge. No wonder, then, that so excellent a young lady suffered Concealment, like a worm in the bud, to feed on her damask cheek. Harriet, not knowing of any engagement he had, could have no difficulties to contend with; except inferiority of fortune were one. She had therefore no reason to endeavour to conquer a passion not ignobly founded; and of which duty, judgment, and conscience, approved. Suspense, therefore, only, and not concealment, (since every one called upon Harriet to. acknowledge her love,) could feed on cheek. her And is not suspense enough to make it pale, though it has not yet given it a green and yellow cast? O what tortures has suspense given me! But certainty is now taking place. What a right method, Lucy, did Clementina, so much in earnest in her own persuasion, take, in this second conference, could she have succeeded, in her solicitude for his change of religion!-Could that have been effected, I dare say she would have been less reserved, as to the cause of her melancholy; especially as her friends were all as indulgent to her as mine are to me. But my pity for the noble Clementina begins to take great hold of my heart. I long to have the whole before me. Adieu, Lucy: if I write more, it will be all a recapitulation of the Doctor's letter. I can think of nothing else. LETTER CVI. MISS BYRON. [In continuation.] Tuesday, March 28. LET me now give you brief account of what we are doing here. Sir Charles so much rejoiced the heart of Lord G, who waited on him the moment he knew he was in town, that he could not defer his attendance on Miss Grandison, till she left Colnebrook; and got hither by our breakfast-time this morning. He met with a very kind reception from Lord and Lady L, and a civil one from Miss Grandison; but she is already beginning to play her tricks with him. O, Lucy! where is the sense of parading it with a worthy man, of whose affection we have no reason to doubt, and whose visits we allow ? Silly men in love, or pretending to be in love, generally say hyperbolical things; all, in short, that could be said to a creature of superior order, (to an angel ;) because they know not how to say polite, proper, or sensible things. In like manner, from the same defects in understanding, some of us women act as if we thought coyness and modesty the same thing; and others, as if they were sensible, that if they were not insolent, they must drop into the arms of a lover upon his first question. But Miss Grandison, in her behaviour to Lord G―, is governed by motives of archness, and, I may say, downright roguery of temper. Courtship is play to her. She has a talent for raillery, and in no instance is so successful, yet so improper, as on that subject. She could not spare her brother upon it, though she suffered by it. Yet had she a respect for Lord G, she could not treat him ludicrously. Cannot a witty woman find her own consequence, but by putting a fool's coat on the back of a friend?Sterling wit, I imagine, requires not a foil to set it off. She is, indeed, good-natured; and this is all Lord G- has to depend upon-saving a little reliance that he may make upon the influence her brother has over her. I told her, just now, that were I Lord G, I would not wish to have her mine, on any consideration. She called me silly creature, and asked me, if it were not one of the truest signs of love, when men were most fond of the women who were least fit for them, and used them worst? These men, my dear, said she, are very sorry creatures, and know no medium. They will either, spaniellike, fawn at your feet, or be ready to leap into your lap. She has charming spirits: I wish I could borrow some of them. But I tell her, that I would not have a single drachm of those overlively ones which I see she will play off upon Lord G. Yet he will be pleased, at present, with any treatment from her; though he wants not feeling, as I can see already.-Don't, Charlotte, said I to her, within this half hour, let him find his own weight in your levity. He admires your wit; but don't let it wound him. But perhaps she is the sprightlier, in order to give me and Lord and Lady L- spirits. They are very good to me, and greatly apprehensive of the story, which takes up, in a manner, my whole attention: so is Miss Grandison: and my sweet Emily, as often as she may, comes up to me when I am alone, and hangs upon my arm, my shoulder; and watches, with looks of love, every turn of my eyes. I have opened my whole heart to her, for the better guarding of hers; and this history of Clementina affords an excellent lesson for the good girl. She blesses me for the lectures I read her on this subject, and says, that she sees love is a very subtle thing, and, like water, will work its way through the banks that are set up to confine it, if it be not watched, and dammed out in time. She pities Clementina; and prettily asked my leave to do so. I think, said she, my heart loves her; but not so well as it does you. I long to know what my guardian will do about her. How good is it in her father and mother to love her so dearly! Her two elder brothers one cannot dislike; but Jeronymo is my favourite. He is a man worth saving; i'n't he, madam? But I pity her father and mother, as well as Clementina. Charming young creature! What an excellent heart she has! Sir Charles is to dine with Sir Hargrave and his friends to-morrow, on the forest, in his way to Grandison-Hall. The Doctor says, he expects to hear from him, when there. What! will he go by this house, and not call in? With all my heart-we are only sisters! Miss Grandison says, she'll be hanged (that is her word) if he is not afraid of me. Afraid of me! A sign, if he is, he knows not what a poor forward creature I am. But, as he seems to be preengaged-Well, but I shall soon know everything, as to that. But sure he might call in as he went by. The Doctor says, he longs to know how he approves of the decorations of his church, and of the alterations that are made and making, by his direction, at the Hall. It is a wonder, methinks, that he takes not Dr Bartlett with him: upon my word, I think he is a little unaccountable, such sisters as he has. Should you like it, Lucy, were he your brother? I really think his sisters are too acquiescent. He has a great taste, the Doctor tells us, yet not an expensive one; for he studies situation and convenience, and pretends not to level hills, or to force and distort nature; but to help it, as he finds it, without letting art be seen in his works, where he can possibly avoid it. For he says, he would rather let a stranger be pleased with what he sees, as if it were always so; than to obtain comparative praise by informing him what it was in its former situation. As he is to be a suitor for Lord W―, before he returns, he will not, perhaps, be with us, while I am here. He may court for others: he has had very little trouble of that sort for himself, I find. A very disturbing thought is just come into my head: Sir Charles, being himself in suspense, as to the catastrophe of this knotty affair, did not intend to let us know it till all was over. As sure as you are alive, Lucy, he had seen my regard for him through the thin veil that covered it; and began to be apprehensive (generously apprehensive) for the heart of the poor fool; and so has suffered Dr Bartlett to transcribe the particulars of the story, that they may serve for a check to the over-forward passion of your Harriet. This thought excites my pride; and that my contempt of myself: near borderers, Lucy! What a little creature does it make me, in my own eyes!-0 Dr Bartlett! your kindly intended transcripts shall cure me: indeed they shall. But now this subject is got uppermost again. What, Lucy, can I do with it? Miss Grandison says, that I shall be with her every day when I go to town: I can have no exception, she says, when her brother is absent-nor when he is present, I begin now to think. Lord help me, my dear! I must be so very careful of my punctilio!—No, thought I, in the true spirit of prudery, I will not go to Sir Charles's house for the world: and why? Because he is a single man; and because I think of something that he, perhaps, has no notion of. But now I may go and visit his sister without scruple, may I not? For he, perhaps, thinks only of his Clementina-and is not this a charming difficulty got over, Lucy?-But, as I said, I will soon be with you. I told Miss Grandison that I would, just now. -Lovers, said she, are the weakest people in the world; and people of punctilio the most un Wednesday, March 29. SIR CHARLES came hither this morning, time enough to breakfast with us. Lady L- is not an early riser. I am sure this brother of hers is: so is Miss Grandison. If I say I am, my Lucy, I will not allow you to call it boasting, because you will, by so calling it, acknowledge early rising to be a virtue; and if you thought it such, I am sure you would distinguish it by your practice. Forgive me, my dear: this is the only point in which you and I have differed-And why have I in the main so patiently suffered this difference, and not tried to teaze you out of it? Because my Lucy always so well employs her time when she is alive. But would not one the more wish that well employed life to be made as long as possible? I endeavoured to be very cheerful at breakfast; but I believe my behaviour was awkward and affected. After Sir Charles was gone, on my putting the question to the two sisters, whether it was not so? they acquitted me-Yet my heart, when in his company, laboured with a sense of constraint. My pride made me want to find out pity for me in his looks and behaviour, on purpose to quarrel with him in my mind; for I could not get out of my head that degrading surmise, that he had permitted Dr Bartlett to hasten to me the history of Clementina, in order generously to check any hopes that I might entertain, before they had too strongly taken hold of my foolish heart. But nothing of this was discoverable. Respect, tender respect, appeared, as the ladies afterwards took notice, in every word, when he addressed himself to me; in every look that he cast upon me. . He studiously avoided speaking of the Bologna family. We were not, indeed, any of us fond of leading to the subject. I am sure I pitied him. Pity, my dear, is a softer passion, I dare say, in the bosom of a woman, than in that of a man. There is, there must be, I should fancy, more generosity, more tenderness, in the pity of the one, than in that of the other. In a man's pity, [I write in the first case from my own sensibilities, in the other from my apprehensions, there is, too probably, a mixture of insult or contempt. Unhappy, indeed, must the woman be, who has drawn upon her the helpless pity of the man she loves! The ladies and Lord L- will have it, that Sir Charles's love, however, is not so much engaged for Clementina, as his compassion. They are my sincere friends: they see that I am pretty delicate in my notions of a first love; and they generously endeavour to inculcate this distinction upon me: but to what purpose, when we evidently see, from what we already know of this story, that his engagements, be the motive what it will, are of such a nature, that they cannot be dispensed with while this lady's destiny is undetermined? Poor Lady Clementina! From my heart I pity her: and tenderness, I am sure, is the sole motive of my compassion for this fair unfortu nate. WITH this, I send the Doctor's second packet. O my dear, what a noble young lady is Clementina! What a purity is there in her passion! A letter of Mrs Beaumont (Mrs Beaumont herself an excellent woman) will shew you, that Clementina deserves every good wish. Such a noble struggle did I never hear of, between religion and love. O, Lucy! you will be delighted with Clementina! You will even, for a while, forget your Harriet; or, if you are just, will think of her but next after Clementina! Never did a young lady do more honour to her sex than is done it by Clementina! A flame, the most vehement, suppressed from motives of piety, till, poor lady! it has devoured her intellects! Read the letter, and be lost, as I was, for half an hour after I had read it, in silent admiration of her fortitude! O, my dear! she must be rewarded with a Sir Charles Grandison! My reason, my justice, compels from me my vote in her favour. My Lord L and the two ladies admire her as much as I do. They look at me with eyes of tender concern. They say little. What can they say?-But they kindly applaud me for my unfeigned admiration of this extraordinary young lady. But where is my merit? Who can forbear admiring her? |