backs. Your Aunt Grandison is of opinion, that she will not adhere. Who can tell what to say? Imagination, unnaturally heightened, may change into one altitude from another. I my self sincerely think (and have so often said it, that an uncharitable mind would perhaps charge me with affectation) that Lady Clementina, and no other woman, can deserve Sir Charles Grandison.

Adieu, my dear. Pray tell your brother, that I never thought myself so ill as your friendly love made you apprehend me to be: and that I congratulate you with all my heart, and him also, (it would be an affectation to forbear it, which would imply too much,) on his safe arrival in England. But be sure remember, that I look upon you and your lord, upon my Lord and Lady L, and upon my sweet Emily, if she sees what I write, as guardians of the honour (of the punctilio, if you please, since no dis-honour can be apprehended from Sir Charles Grandison) of your and their

HARRIET BYRON.

Sir Charles would not go out of town, till he had made a visit to Mr and Mrs Reeves, and inquired after Miss Byron's health, of which he received an account less alarming, than we, from our love and our fears, had given him.

We arrived at Windsor on Wednesday evening.

My Lord and Lady W— expected him not till the next day.

I cannot find words to express the joy with which they received him. My lord acknowledged, before us all, that he owed it to God, and to him, that he was the happiest man in the world. My lady called herself, with tears of joy, a happy woman: And Sir Charles told me, that when he was led by her to her closet, to talk about the affairs of her family, she exceedingly abashed him, by expressing her gratitude to him for his goodness to them all, on her knees; while he was almost ready, on his, he said, to acknowledge the aunt, that had done so much honour to his recommendation, and made his uncle so happy.

Sir Charles, in order to have leave to depart next morning, as soon as he had breakfasted, promised to pass several days with them, when he could think himself a settled Englishman.

You, madam, and Lady L, equally love and admire Lady W- I will not, therefore,

enlarge to you on her excellencies. Everybody loves her. Her servants, as they attend, look at their lady, with the same delight, mingled with reverence, as those of my patron look upon him.

Poor Mr Grandison could not help taking notice to me, with tears, on the joint acknowledg→ ments of my lord and lady made to my patron, that goodness and beneficence brought with them their own rewards. Saw you not, my good Dr Bartlett, said he, how my cousin's eyes shone with modest joy, as my lord and lady ran over with their gratitude? I thought of him, as an angel among men-What a wretch have I been ! How can I sit at table with him! Yet how he overwhelms me with his goodness!

Sir Charles having heard, that Sir Hargrave Pollexfen was at his house on the forest, he rode to make him a visit, though some few miles out of his way. I attended him.

Sir Hargrave is one of the most miserable of men. He is not yet fully recovered of the bruises and rough treatment he met with near Paris: and he is so extremely sunk in his spirits, that my patron could not but be concerned for him. He received him with grateful acknowledg ments, and was thankful for his visit: but he told him, that he was so miserable in himself, that he could hardly thank him for saving a life so wretched.

Mr Merceda, it seems, died about a fortnight

ago.

The poor man was thought to be pretty well recovered; and rode out several times: but was taken, on his return from one of his rides, with a vomiting of blood; the consequence, as imagined, of some inward bruises; and died miserably. His death, and the manner of it, have greatly affected Sir Hargrave.-And poor Ba genhall, Sir Charles, said he, is as miserable a dog as I am!

Sir Hargrave, understanding, as he said, that I was a parson, begged me to give him one prayer

He was so importunate, and for Sir Charles to join in it, that we both kneeled with him. Sir Hargrave wept. He called himself a hardened dog.

Strange man!-But I think I was still more affected (Sir Hargrave shocked me!) by your noble brother's humanity, than by Sir Hargrave's wretchedness; tears of compassion for the poor man stealing down his manly cheekGod comfort you, Sir Hargrave! said he, wringing his hands-Dr Bartlett is a good man. You shall have the prayers of us both.

He left him. He could stay no longer; followed by the unhappy man's blessings, interrupted by violent sobbings.

We were both so affected, that we broke not silence, as we rode, till we joined our company at my lord's.

I recounted what passed at this interview to

Mr Grandison. Your ladyship will not want me to be very particular in relating what were his applications to, and reflections on, himself, when I tell you, that he could not have been more concerned, had he been present on the

occasion.

Mr Beauchamp was with us when I gave this relation to Mr Grandison. He was affected at it, and with Mr Grandison's sensibility: But how happy for himself was it, that his concern had in it no mixture of self-reproach! It was a generous and humane concern, like that of his dear friend.

Sir Charles's next visit was to the good Earl of G. And here we left my Lord G—; the best-natured, and one of the most virtuous and prudent young noblemen in the kingdom. Your ladyship will not accuse me of flattery, when you read this; but you will, perhaps, of another view-Yet, as long as I know that you love to have justice done to my lord; and in your heart are sensible of the truth of what I say, and I am sure rejoice in it; I give cheerful way to the justice; and the rather, as you look upon my lord as so much yourself, that if you receive his praises with some little reluctance, it is with such a modest reluctance as you would receive your own; glad, at the same time, that you were so justly complimented.

My lord will acquaint your ladyship with all that passed at the good Earl's; and how much overjoyed he and Lady Gertrude were at the favour they thought your brother did them in dining with them. His lordship will tell you also, how much they wish for you; for they propose to winter there, and not in Hertfordshire, as once they thought to do.

Here Sir Charles inquired after their neighbour, Mr Bagenhall.

He is become a very melancholy man. His wife is as obliging as he will let her be; but he hates her; and the less wonder, for he hates himself.

Poor woman! she could not expect a better fate. To yield up her chastity; to be forced upon him afterwards, by way of doing her poor justice; what affiance can he have in her virtue, were she to meet with a trial?

But that is not all; for though nobody questions her fidelity, yet what weight with him can her arguments have, were she to endeavour to enforce upon his mind those doctrines, which, were they to have proceeded from a pure heart, might, now and then, have let in a ray of light on his benighted soul? A gloomy mind must occasionally receive great consolation from the interposal and soothing of a companionable love, when we know it comes from an untainted heart!

Poor Mr Grandison found in this case also great room for self-application and regret, without my being so officious as to remind him of

the similitude; though the woman who is endeavoured to be imposed on him for a wife, is a more guilty creature than ever Mrs Bagenhall

was.

And here, madam, allow me to observe, that there is such a sameness in the lives, the actions, the pursuits of libertines, and such a likeness in the accidents, punishments, and occasions for remorse, which attend them, that I wonder they will not be warned by the beacons that are lighted up by every brother libertine whom they know ; and that they will so generally be driven on the same rock, overspread and surrounded as it is, in their very sight, by a thousand wrecks!-Did such know your brother, and learn, from his example and history, what a variety there is in goodness, as he passes on from object to object, exercising, not officiously, but as opportunity offers, his noble talents to the benefit of his fellow-creatures, surely they would, like honest Mr Sylvester, the attorney, endeavour to give themselves solid joy, by following what that gentleman justly called so self-rewarding an example.

Forgive me, madam, if sometimes I am ready to preach: it is my province. Who but your brother can make every province his, and accommodate himself to every subject?

We reached Sir Harry Beauchamp's that night; and there took up our lodgings.

Sir Harry seems to be in a swift decay; and he is very sensible of it. He rejoiced to see your brother. I was afraid, Sir Charles Grandison, said he, that our next meeting would have been in another world. May it be in the same world, and I shall be happy!

This was a wish, a thought, not to be discouraged in a dying man. Sir Charles was affected with it. You know, madam, that your brother has a heart the most tender, and, at the same time, the most intrepid, of human hearts. I have learned much from him. He preaches by action. Till I knew him, young man as he then was, and still is, my preaching was by words: I was contented, that my actions disgraced not my words.

Lady Beauchamp, as my patron afterwards told me, confessed, in tears, that she should owe to him all the tranquillity of mind which she can hope for, if she survive Sir Harry. O sir, said she, till I knew you, I was a narrow, selfish creature. I was jealous of a father's love to a worthy son; whose worthiness I knew not, as a son, and as a friend: that was the happiest day of our Beauchamp's life, which introduced him to an intimacy with you.

Here, on Friday morning, we left Mr Beauchamp, sorrowing for his father's illness, and endeavouring, by every tender act of duty, to comfort his mother-in-law on a deprivation,

with which, I am afraid, she will soon be tried.

My Beauchamp loves you, Sir Charles, said Sir Harry, at parting in the morning after breakfast; and so he ought. Wherever you are, he wants to be; but spare him to his mother and me for a few days: he is her comforter, and mine. Fain, very fain, would I have longer rejoiced, if God had seen fit, in the love of both. But I resign to the Divine will. Pray for me: You also, Dr Bartlett, pray for me. My son tells me what a good man you are--And may we meet in heaven! I am afraid, Sir Charles, that I never shall see you again in this worldBut why should I oppress your noble heart? God be your Guide and Protector! Take care of your precious health. You have a great deal to do, before you finish your glorious course, and come to this last period of human vanity.

My patron was both grieved and rejoicedRejoiced to see Sir Harry in a frame of mind so different from that to which he had been a witness in Sir Hargrave Pollexfen; and grieved to find him past all hopes of recovery.

Sir Charles pursued his journey, cross the country, to Lady Mansfield's. We found no convenient place for dining, and arrived at Mansfield-House about five on Friday afternoon.

My Lady Mansfield, her daughter and sons, were overjoyed to see my patron. Mr Grandison told me, that he never, from infancy till this time, shed so many tears as he has shed on this short tour, sometimes from joy, sometimes from grief. I don't know, madam, whether one should wish him re-established in his fortune, if it could be done; since calamity, rightly supported, is a blessing.

Here I left my patron, and proceeded on Saturday morning with Mr Grandison to the Hall. If Sir Charles finds matters ripened for a treaty between the Mansfields and their adversaries, as he has been put in hopes, he will go near to stay at Mansfield-House, and only visit us at the Hall incognito, to avoid neighbourly congratulations, till he can bring things to bear.

Mr Grandison just now told me, that Sir Charles, before he left town, gave him a 4007. bank note, to enable him to pay off his debts to tradesmen ; of which, at his desire, he had given him in a list; amounting to 3601.

He owes, he says, 100%. more to the widow of a wine-merchant; but being resolved to pay it the moment money comes into his hands, he would not acquaint Sir Charles with it. I have the honour to be

LETTER CCIII.

SIR CHARLES GRANDISON TO DR BARTLETT.

Mansfield-House, Thursday, Sept. 14. You will be so good, my dear friend, as to let my neighbours, particularly the gentlemen you mention, know, that the only reason I forbear paying my compliments to them, now I am so near, is, because I cannot as yet enjoy their company with that freedom and ease which I hope in a little while to do. Tell them, that I purpose, after some particular affairs are determined, (which will for a little while longer engross me,) to devote the greatest part of my time to my native place; and that then I will endeavour to make myself as good a neighbour, and as social a friend, as they can wish me to be.

On Sunday I had a visit from the two Hartleys.

They gave me very satisfactory proofs of what they were able, as well as willing to do in support of the right of the Mansfields to the estate of which they have been despoiled; and shewed me a paper, which nobody thought was in being, of the utmost consequence in the cause.

On Monday, by appointment, I attended Sir John Lambton. Two lawyers of the Keelings were with him. They gave in their demands. I had mine ready; but theirs were so extravagant, that I would not produce them: but, taking Sir John aside, I love not, said I, to affront men of a profession; but I am convinced that we never shall come to an understanding, if we consider ourselves as lawyers and clients. I am no lawyer, but I know the strength of my friends' cause, and will risk half my estate upon the justice of it. The Mansfields will commission me, if the Keelings will you, and we perhaps may do something. If not, let the law take its course. I am now come to reside in England. I will do nothing for myself, till I have done what can be done to make all my friends easy.

Sir John owned, that he thought the Mansfields had hardships done them. Mr Keeling, senior, he said, had heard of the paper in the Hartleys' hands; and, praising his honesty, told me, in confidence, that he had declared, that if such a paper could have been produced in time, he would not have prosecuted the suit which he had carried. But Sir John said, that the younger Keeling was a furious young man, and would oppose a compromise on the terms he supposed the Mansfields would expect to be complied with. But what are your proposals, sir?

These, Sir John: the law is expensive; delays may be meditated; appeals may be brought, if we gain our point.-What I think it may cost us to establish the right of the injured, which ecnnot be a small sum, that will I prevail upon the Mansfields to give up to the Keelings. I will

trust you, if you give me your honour, with our proofs; and if you and your friends are satisfied with them, and will consent to establish our right by the form only of a new trial, then may we be agreed; otherwise, not. And I leave you and them to consider of it. I shall hear from you within two or three days.-Sir John promised I should; but hoped to have some talk first with the Hartleys, with whom, as well as with me, he declared he would be upon honour.

Wednesday Evening.

I HAD a message from Sir John last night, requesting me to dine with him and the elder Mr Keeling this day; and to bring with me the two Mr Hartleys, and the proofs I had hinted at. Those gentlemen were so obliging as to go with me; and took the important paper with them, which had been deposited with their grandfather, as a common friend, and contained a recognition of the Mansfields' right to the estates in question, upon an amicable reference to persons long since departed: an attested copy of which was once in the Mansfields' possession, as by a memorandum that came to hand; but which never could be found. The younger Keeling was not intended to be there, but he forced himself upon us. He behaved very rudely. I had once like to have forgotten myself. This meeting produced nothing; but as the father is a reasonable man; as we have obtained a rehearing of the cause; as he is much influenced by Sir John Lambton, who seems convinced, and to whose honour I have submitted an abstract of our proofs; I am in hopes that we shall be able to accommodate.

I have Bolton's proposals before me. The first child is dead; the second cannot live many months. He trembles at the proofs he knows we have of his villainy. He offers, on the death of this second child, to give us possession of the estate, and a large sum of money, (but thought not to be half of what the superannuated Calvert left,) if we will give him general releases. The wretch is not, we believe, married to the relict of Calvert.

I am loath, methinks, to let him escape the justice which his crimes call for: but such are the delays and chicaneries of the law, when practisers are found who know how to perplex an honest pursuer; and as we must have recourse to low and dirty people to establish our proofs, the vile fellow shall take with him the proposed spoils: they may not be much more than would be the lawyers' part of the estate, were we to push the litigation.

As to our poor Everard, nothing, I fear, can be done for him, with the men who are revelling on his spoils. I have seen one of them. The unhappy man has signed and sealed to his own ruin. He regrets, that a part of the estate which has been so long in the family and name, should go out of it. What an empty pride is that of name!

The general tenor of his life was not a credit to it, though he felt not that, till he felt distress. The disgrace is actually incurred. Does not all the world know his loss, and the winners' triumph? And if the world did not, can he conceal from himself those vices, the consequences of which have reduced him to what he is? But perhaps the unhappy man puts a value upon the name, in compliment to me.

Mention not to him what I write. The poor man is sensible enough of his folly, to engage pity; whether from a right sense or not, must be left to his own heart.

As to the woman's claim: what in honour can I do against a promise that he owns may be proved upon him? He did not condition with her that she was to be a spotless woman. If he thought she was so when he solicited her to yield to his desires, he is the less to be excused: vile as she comes out to be, he had proposed to make her as vile, if he had found her not so. He promised her marriage: meant he only a promise?

She is punished in being what she is: his punishment cannot be condign, but by his being obliged to perform his promise. Yet I cannot bear to think, that my cousin Grandison should be made, for life, the dupe of a successful and premeditated villainy; and the less, as, in all likelihood, the profligate Lord B-would continue to himself, from the merit with her of having vindicated her claim, an interest in the bad woman's favour, were she to be the wife of our poor Everard.

But certainly this claim must be prosecuted with a view only to extort money from my cousin; and they know him to be of a family jealous of its honour. I think she must be treated with for releases. I could not bear to appear in such a cause as this, in open court, in support of my cousin, against a promise made by him. He is of age, and thought to be no novice in the ways of the town. I am mistaken in Mr Grandison's spirit, if it do not lead him to think himself very severely punished, (were he to have no other punishment,) by the consequence of those vices which will bring an expense upon me.

But if I should be able to extricate the unhappy man from this difficulty, what can next be done for him? The poor remains of his fortune will not support one who has always lived more than genteelly. Will he be able, think you, to endure the thoughts of living in a constant state of dependence, however easy and genteel I should endeavour to make it to him? There may be many ways (in the public offices, for example,) of providing for a broken tradesman: but for a man who calls himself, and is, a gentleman; who will expect, as such, to rank with his employer; who knows nothing of figures, or business of any kind; who has been brought up in idleness, and hardly knows the meaning of the word diligence; and never could bear confinement; what can be done for such a

one in the public offices, or by any other em ployment that requires punctual attendance? But to quit this subject, for a more agreeable

one.

I have for some time had it in my thoughts to ask you, my dear friend, whether your nephew is provided for to your liking and his own? If not, and he would put it in my power to serve him, by serving myself, I should be obliged to you for permitting him so to do, and to him, for his consent. I would not affront him, by the offer of a salary; my presents to him shall be such as befit the services done :-sometimes as my amanuensis; sometimes as a transcriber and methodizer of papers and letters; sometimes in adjusting servants' accounts, and fitting them for my inspection. You need not fear my regard to myself in my acknowledgments to be made to him, (that, I know, will be all your fear ;) for I have always considered profusion and parsimony as two extremes, equally to be avoided. You, my dear Dr Bartlett, have often enforced this lesson on my mind. Can it then ever be forgotten by

Your affectionate friend and servant,
CHARLES GRANDISON?

you would have the whole family, as far as I know. We think, we talk, of nobody but you. We look out for Englishmen, to do them honour for your sake.

Mrs Beaumont is with us. Surely she is your near relation. She advises caution; but thinks that our present measures are not wrong ones, as we never can give into my sister's wishes to quit the world. Dear Grandison! love not Mrs Beaumont the less for her opinion in our favour. Mr Lowther writes to you; I say nothing, therefore, of that worthy man.

I am wished to write more enforcingly to you on a certain important subject: but I say I cannot, dare not, will not.

Dear Grandison, love still your Jeronymo! Your friendship makes life worthy of my wish. It has been a consolation to me, when every other failed, and all around me was darkness, and the shadow of death. You will often be troubled with letters from me. My beloved, my dearest friend, my Grandison, adieu!

JERONYMO DELLA PORRETTA.

LETTER CCIV.

SIGNOR JERONYMO DELLA PORRETTA TO SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.

Bologna, Monday, Sept. 15, N. S. YOUR kind letters from Lyons, my dearest friend, rejoiced us extremely. Clementina languished to hear from you. How was it possible for you to write with so much warmth of affection to her, yet with so much delicacy, that a rival could not have taken exceptions at it?

She writes to you. It is not for me, it is not for any of us, I think, to say one word to the principal subject of her letter. She shewed it to me, and to her mother, only.

Dear creature! could she but be prevailed upon!-But how can you be asked to support the family-wishes? Yet if you think them just, I know you will. You know not self, when justice and the service of your friend stand in opposition to it. All that I am afraid of, is, that we shall be too precipitate for the dear creature's head.

Would to God you could have been my brother! That was the first desire of my heart!But you will see by her letter, (the least flighty that she has written of a long time,) that she has no thoughts of that: and she declares to us that she wishes you happily married to an English woman. Would to Heaven we might plead your example to her!

I will certainly attend you in your England. If one thing, that we all wish, could happen,

VOL. VIII.

LETTER CCV.

LADY CLEMENTINA TO SIR CHARLES

GRANDISON.

Bologna, Monday, Sept. 15, N. S. How welcome to me was your letter from Lyons! My good Chevalier Grandison, my heart thanks you for it: : yet it was possible that heart could have been still more thankful, had I not observed in your letter an air of pensiveness, though it is endeavoured to be concealed. What pain would it give me to know, that you suffer on my account!-But no more in this strain: a complaining one must take place.

O chevalier, I am persecuted! and by whom? By my dearest, my nearest friends. I was afraid it would be so. Why would you deny me your influence when I importuned you for it? Why would you not stay among us, till you saw me professed? Then had I been happy-In time, I should have been happy!-Now am I beset with entreaties, with supplications, from those who ought to command;-yet unlawfully, if they did: I presume to think so: since parents, though they ought to be consulted in the change of condition, as to the person; yet surely should not oblige the child to marry, who chooses to be sing call her life. A more cogent reason may be pleaded, and I do plead it to my relations, as Catholics, since I wish for nothing so much as to assume the veil.-But you are a Protestant: you favour not a divine dedication, and would not plead for me. On the contrary, you have strengthened their hands!-O chevalier! how could you do so, and ever love me! Did you not know, there was but one way to escape

2 N

the