Give us hope, therefore, my dear Grandison, that you will make the effort. Assure us, that you will not scruple, if you can succeed, to set the example; and on this assurance we will claim from Clementina the effects of the hope she has given us ; and if we can prevail, will in England return you thanks for the numberless favours you have conferred upon us.

Thus earnestly, as well from inclination, as in compliance with the pressing entreaties of every one of a family which I hope are still, and ever will be, dear to you, do I, your Jeronymo, your brother, your friend, solicit you. Mrs Beaumont joins with us. She scruples not, she bids me tell you, to pronounce, that you and Clementina will both be more happy; she with the Count of Belvedere; [your respective countries so distant, your religion so different; you with an Englishwoman; than you could have been with each other. Mrs Beaumont has owned to me in private, that you often in conversation with her, even while you had hope of calling Clementina yours, lamented, for her sake, as well as your own, the unhappy situation, with respect to religion, you were both in; and that you had declared more than once to her, as indeed you did once to us, that in a beginning address you would not have compromised thus with a princess. May we not expect everything, my Grandison, from your magnanimity? We hope it is in your power, and we doubt not your will, to contribute to our happiness. But whatever be the event, I beseech you, my dear friend, continue to love your

JERONYMO.

LETTER CCXXII.

LADY G TO MISS BYRON.

Grosvenor Square, Sunday, Oct. 15. CAN I forgive your pride, your petulance ?— No, Harriet; positively no! I write to scold you; and having ordered my lord to sup abroad, I shall perhaps oblige you with a long letter. We honest folks, who have not abundance of love-fooling upon our hands, find ourselves happy in a good deal of quiet leisure; and I love to chide and correct you wise ones. Thus then I begin :

Ridiculous parade among you! I blame you all. Could he not have been Mrs Shirley's guest, if he was not to be permitted to repose under the same roof with his sovereign lady and mistress? But must you let him go to an inn? What for? Why to shew the world he was but on a foot, at present, with your other humble servants; and be thought no more, by the insolent Greville, and affronted as an invader of his rights. Our sex is a foolish sex. Too little or too much parade. Yet, Lord help us! were it

not that we must be afraid to appear over forward to the man himself, we should treat the opinion of the world with contempt.

And yet, after all, what with Lady Clementina, what with the world, and what with our own punctilio, and palpitating hearts, and so forth, and all that, and more than all that; I own you are pretty nicely circumstanced. But, my life for yours, you will behave like a simpleton, on occasion of his next address to you: And why? Did you ever know that people did not, who were full of apprehensions, who aimed at being very delicate, who were solicitous to take their measures from the judgment of those without them; pragmatical souls, perhaps, who form their notions either on what they have read, or by the addresses to them of their own silly fellows, awkward and unmeaning, and by no means to be compared, for integrity, understanding, politeness, to my brother? Consider, child, that he having seen, in different countries, perhaps a hundred women equally specious with the present mistress of his destiny, were form and outward grace to be the attractives, is therefore fitter to give than take the example.

But, Harriet, I write to charge you not to increase your own difficulties by too much parade; your frankness of heart is a prime consideration with him. He expects not to meet with the girl, but the sensible woman, in his address to you. He is pursuing a laudable end-Don't teaze him with pug's tricks-" What, my dear Lady G-, should I have done?" say you-What signifies asking me now? Did not you lay your heads together? And the wisest which ever were set on women's shoulders? But, indeed, I never knew consultations of any kind turn to account. It is only a parcel of people getting together, proposing doubts, and puzzling one another, and ending as they began, if not worse. Doctors differ. So many persons, so many minds.

And O how your petulant heart throbbed with indignation, because he came not to breakfast with you! What benefit has a polite man over an unpolite one, where the latter shall have his rusticity allowed for, (0 that is his way!) and when the other has expectations drawn upon him, which, if not critically answered, he is not to be forgiven! He is à prudent man; he may have overslept himself-Might dream of Clementina. Then it was a fault in him, that he staid to dine on the road-His horses might want rest, truly!-Upon my word, Harriet, a woman in love is a woman in love. Wise or foolish before, we are all equally foolish then; the same froward, petulant, captious, babies:I protest, we are very silly creatures, all of us, in these circumstances; and did not love make men as great fools as ourselves, they would hardly think us worthy of their pursuit. Yet I am so true to the free masonry myself, that I

would think the man who should dare to say half I have written, of our dollships, ought not to go away with his life.

My sister and I are troubled about this Greville. Inform us, the moment you can, of the particulars of what passed between my brother and him; pray do. We long also to see the letter he has put into your hands from Bologna. It is on the road, we hope.

Caroline and I are as much concerned for your honour, your punctilio, as you, or any of you, can be. But, by the account you give of my brother's address to you, in presence of your grandmother and aunt, as well as from our knowledge of his politeness, neither you nor we need to trouble our heads about it; it may be all left to him. He knows so well what becomes the character of the woman whom he hopes to call his wife, that you will be sure of your dignity being preserved, if you place a confidence in him. And yet no man is so much above mere formal regards as he is. Let me enumerate instances, from your letter before me.

His own intention, in the first place, not to surprise you by his visits, as you apprehended he would, which would have made him look like a man of self-imagined consequence to you -His providing himself with accommodations at an inn; and not giving way to the invitation, even of your sagacious uncle Selby-[I must rally him. Does he spare me?-His singling you out on Friday from your men friends, yet giving you the opportunity of your aunt's and grandmother's company, to make his personal application to you for your favour-His requesting the interest of your other friends with you, as if he presumed not on your former acquaintance, and this after an application, not discouraged, made to your friends and you.

As to his equanimity in his first address to you; his retaining your hand, forsooth, before all your friends, and so forth; never find fault with that, Harriet. [Indeed you do make an excuse for the very freedom you blame-So lover like ! He is the very man, that a conscious young woman, as you are, should wish to be addressed by; so much courage, yet so much true modesty-What! I warrant, you would have had a man chalked out for you, who should have stood at a distance, bowed, scraped, trembled; while you had nothing to do, but bridle, and make stiff curtseys to him, with your hands before you-Plagued with his doubts, and with your own diffidencies; afraid he would now, and now, and now, pop out the question; which he had not the courage to put; and so running on, simpering, fretting, fearing, two parallel lines, side by side, and never meeting; till some interposing friends, in pity to you both, put one's head pointing to the other's head, and stroking and clapping the shoulders of each, set you at each other, as men do by other dunghillbred creatures.

You own, he took no notice of your emotion when he first addressed himself to you; so gave you an opportunity to look up, which otherwise you would have wanted. Now don't you think you know a man-creature or two, who would, on such an occasion, have grinned you quite out of countenance, and insulted you with their pity for being modest?-But you own, that he had emotion too, when he first opened his mind to you-What a deuce would the girl have?-Orme and Fowler in your head, no doubt! The tremblings of rejected men, and the fantasies of romantic women, were to be a rule to my brother, I suppose, with your mock-majesty !—Ah, Harriet! Did I not say that we women are very silly creatures?-But my brother is a good man

So we must have something to find fault with him for. Hah, hah, hah, hah!--What do you laugh at, Charlotte ?-What do I laugh at, Harriet? Why, at the idea of a couple of loveyers, taken each with a violent ague fit, at their first approach to each other-Hands shaking-Knees trembling-Lips quivering-Tongue faltering -Teeth chattering-I had a good mind to present you with an ague dialogue between such a trembling couple.—I, I, I, I, says the loverYou, you, you, you, says the girl, if able to speak at all. But, Harriet, you shall have the whole on demand. Rave at me, if you will; but love, as it is called by boys and girls, shall ever be the subject of my ridicule. Does it not lead us girls into all manner of absurdities, inconveniences, undutifulness, disgrace?-Villainous cupidity!-It does.

To be serious-Neither does my brother address you in a style that impeaches either his own understanding, or yours.-Another fault, Harriet, is it not?-But sure, you are not so very a girl!

The justice he does to Lady Clementina and her family, [Let me be very serious, when I speak of Clementina, is a glorious instance as well of his greatness of mind, as of his sincerity. He has no need to depreciate one lady, to help him to exalt (or do justice, I should rather say, to) another. By praising her, he makes noble court to you, in supposing you, as you are, one of the most generous of women. How great is his compliment to both ladies, when he calls Clementina the Miss Byron of Italy! Who, my dear, ever courted woman as my brother courts you? Indeed there can be but very few men who have such a woman to court.

He suffers you not to ask for an account of the state of his heart from the time he knew you first, till now. He gives it to you unasked. And how glorious is that account, both to you, and himself!

Let us look back upon his conduct when last in Italy, and when every step seemed to lead to his being the husband of another woman.

The recovery of Clementina, and of her noble brother, seem to be the consequence of his friend

ly goodness. The grateful family all join to reward him with their darling's hand; her heart supposed to be already his. He, like the man of honour he is, concludes himself bound by his former offers. They accept him upon those terms. The lady's merits shine out with transcendent lustre in the eyes of every one, even of us, his sisters, and of you, Harriet, and your best friends. Must they not in his, to whom Merit was ever the first, Beauty but the second attractive? He had no tie to any other woman on earth; he had only the tenderness of his own heart, with regard to Miss Byron, to contend with. Ought he not to have contended with it? He did; and so far conquered, as to enable himself to be just to the lady, whose great qualities, and the concurrence of her friends in his favour, had converted compassion for her into love. And who that hears her story, can forbear to love her? But with what tenderness, with what politeness, does he, in his letter to his chosen correspondent, express himself of Miss Byron! He declares, that if she were not to be happy, it would be a great abatement of his own felicity. You, however, remember how politely he recalls his apprehensions that you may not, on his account, be altogether so happy as he wishes, as the suggestions of his own presumption; and censures himself for barely supposing, that he had been of consequence enough with you to give you pain.

How much to your honour, before he went over, does he account for your smiles, for your frankness of heart, in his company! He would not build upon them. Nor, indeed, could he know the state of your heart, as we did. He had not the opportunity. How silly was your punctilio, that made you sometimes fancy it was out of mere compassion that he revealed to you the state of his engagement abroad! You see he tells you, that such was his opinion of your greatness of mind, that he thought he had no other way but to put it in your power to check him, if his love for you should stimulate him to an act of neglect to the lady to whom (she having never refused him, and not being then in a condition either to claim him, or set him free) he thought himself under obligation. Don't you revere him for his honour to her, the nature of her malady considered?-What must he have suffered, in this conflict!

Well, and now, by a strange turn in the lady, but glorious to herself, as he observes, the obstacle removed, he applies to Miss Byron for her favour. How sensible is he of what delicacy requires from her! How justly (respecting his love for you) does he account for not postponing, for the sake of cold and dull form, as he justly expresses it, his address to you! How greatly does the letter he delivered to you, favour his argument! Ah, the poor Clementina! Cruel persuaders her relations! I hate and pity

them in a breath. Never, before, did hatred and pity meet in the same bosom, as they do in mine, on this occasion. His difficulties, my dear, and the uncommon situation he is in, as if he were offering you but a divided love, enhance your glory. You are reinstated on the female throne, to the lowermost step of which you once was afraid you had descended. You are offered a man, whose perplexities have not proceeded from the entanglements of intrigue, inconstancy, perfidy; but from his own compassionate nature. And could you, by any other way in the world than by this supposed divided love, have had it in your power, by accepting his humbly-offered hand, to lay him under obligation to you, which he thinks he never shall be able to discharge? Lay him--Who ?—Sir CHARLES GRANDISON-For whom so many virgin hearts have sighed in vain !—And what a triumph to our sex is this, as well as to my Harriet!

And now, Harriet, let me tell you, that my sister and I are both in great expectations of your next letter. It is, it must be, written before you will have this. My brother is more than man; you have only to shew yourself to be superior to the forms of woman. If you play the fool with him, now that you have the power you and we have so long wished you-If you give pain to his noble, because sincere, heart, by any the least shadow of female affectation; you, who have hitherto been distinguished for so amiable a frankness; you, who cannot doubt his honour--the honour of a man who solicits your favour in even a great manner, a manner in which no man before him ever courted a woman, because few men before him have ever been so particularly circumstanced; a manner that gives you an opportunity to outshine, in your acceptance of him, even the noble Clementina in her refusal; as bigotry must have been, in part, her motive-If, I say, you act foolishly, weakly, now-Look to it-You will depreciate, if not cast away, your own glory. Remember you have a man to deal with, who, from the behaviour of us, his sisters, to Mrs Oldham, at his first return to England, took measure of our minds, and, without loving us the less for it, looked down upon us with pity; and made us, ever since, look upon ourselves in a diminishing light, and as sisters who have greater reason to glory in their brother, than he has in them. Would you not rather, you who are to stand in a still nearer relation to him, invite his admiration, than his pity? Till last Friday night you had it. What Saturday has produced, we shall soon guess.

Not either Lord L, or Lord G―, not Emily, not Aunt Eleanor, now, either see or hear read what you write, except here and there a passage, which you yourself would not scruple to hear read to them. Are not you our third

sister? To each of us our next self. And, what gives you still more dignity, the elected wife of our brother!

Adieu, my love! In longing expectation of your next, we subscribe

Your affectionate CAROLINE L—. CHARLOTTE G

LETTER CCXXIII.

MISS BYRON TO LADY G

Saturday, Oct. 14. MR FENWICK has just now been telling us, from the account given him by that Greville, vile man! how the affair was between him and Sir Charles Grandison. Take it briefly, as follows:

About eight yesterday morning, that audacious wretch went to the George, at Northampton; and, after making his inquiries, demanded an audience of Sir Charles Grandison. Sir Charles was near dressed, and had ordered his chariot to be ready, with intent to visit us early.

He admitted of Mr Greville's visit. Mr Greville confesses that his own behaviour was peremptory (his word for insolent, I suppose.) I hear, said he, that you are come down into this county in order to carry off from us the richest jewel in it-I need not say whom. My name is Greville; I have long made my addresses to her, and have bound myself under a vow, that, were a prince to be my competitor, I would dispute his title to her.

You seem to be a princely man, sir, said Sir Charles, offended with his air and words, no doubt. You need not, Mr Greville, have told me your name; I have heard of you. What your pretensions are, I know not; your vow is nothing to me. I am master of my own actions; and shall not account to you, or any man living, for them.

I presume, sir, you came down with the intention I have hinted at? I beg only your answer as to that. I beg it as a favour, gentleman to gentleman.

The manner of your address to me, sir, is not such as will entitle you to an answer for your own sake. I will tell you, however, that I am come down to pay my devoirs to Miss Byron I hope for acceptance; and know not that I am to make allowance for the claim of any man on earth.

Sir Charles Grandison, I know your character; I know your bravery. It is from that knowledge that I consider you as a fit man for me to talk to. I am not a Sir Hargrave Pollex fen, sir.

VOL. VIII.

I make no account of who or what you are, Mr Greville. Your visit is not, at this time, a welcome one; I am going to breakfast with Miss Byron. Í shall be here in the evening, and at leisure, then, to attend to anything you shall think yourself authorized to say to me, on this or any other subject.

We may be overheard, sir-Shall I beg you to walk with me into the garden below? You are going to breakfast, you say, with Miss Byron. Dear Sir Charles Grandison, oblige me with an audience, of five minutes only, in the back-yard, or garden.

In the evening, Mr Greville, command me anywhere; but I will not be broken in upon

now.

I will not leave you at liberty, Sir Charles, to make your visit where you are going, till I am gratified with one five minutes' conference with you below.

Excuse me then, Mr Greville, that I give orders, as if you were not here. Sir Charles rang. Up came one of his servants-Is the chariot ready?—Almost ready, was the answer.-Make haste. Saunders may see his friends in this neighbourhood; he may stay with them till Monday. Frederick and you attend me.

He took out a letter, and read in it, as he walked about the room, with great composure, not regarding Mr Greville, who stood swelling, as he owned, at one of the windows, till the servant withdrew; and then he addressed himself to Sir Charles in language of reproach on this contemptuous treatment.-Mr Greville, said Sir Charles, you may be thankful, perhaps, that you are in my own apartment; this intrusion is a very ungentlemanly one.

Sir Charles was angry, and expressed impatience to be gone. Mr Greville owned, that he knew not how to contain himself, to see his rival, with so many advantages in his person and air, dressed avowedly to attend the woman he had so long-Shall I say, been troublesome to? For I am sure he never had the shadow of countenance from me.

I repeat my demand, Sir Charles, of a conference of five minutes below.

You have no right to make any demand upon me, Mr Greville: if you think you have, the evening will be time enough. But, even then, you must behave more like a gentleman than you have done hitherto, to entitle yourself to be considered as on a foot with me.

Not on a foot with you, sir!-And he put his hand upon his sword. A gentleman is on a foot with a prince, sir, in a point of honour

Go, then, and find out your prince, Mr Greville: I am no prince: and you have as much reason to address yourself to the man you never saw, as to me.

His servant just then shewing himself, and withdrawing; Mr Greville, added he, I leave you in possession of this apartment. Your ser2 P

vant, sir. In the evening I shall be at your command.

Oneword with you, Sir Charles-one wordWhat would Mr Greville? turning back. Have you made proposals? Are your proposals accepted?

I repeat, that you ought to have behaved differently, Mr Greville, to be entitled to an answer to these questions.

Answer me, however, sir: I beg it as a favour. Sir Charles took out his watch.-After nine: I shall make them wait. But thus I answer you: I have made proposals; and, as I told you before, hope they will be accepted.

Were you any other man in the world, sir, the man before you might question your success with a woman whose difficulties are augmented by the obsequiousness of her admirers. But such a man as you would not have come down on a fool's errand. I love Miss Byron to distraction. I could not shew my face in the county, and suffer any man out of it to carry away such a prize.

Out of the county, Mr Greville? What narrowness is this! But I pity you for your love of Miss Byron: and—

You pity me, sir! interrupted he.-I bear not such haughty tokens of superiority. Either give up your pretensions to Miss Byron, or make me sensible of it in the way of a gentleman.

Mr Greville, your servant: and he went down.

The wretch followed him; and when they came to the yard, and Sir Charles was stepping into his chariot, he took his hand, several persons present-We are observed, Sir Charles, whispered he. Withdraw with me for a few moments. By the great God of Heaven, you must not refuse me! I cannot bear that you should go thus triumphantly on the business you are going upon.

Sir Charles suffered himself to be led by the wretch: and when they were come to a private spot, Mr Greville drew, and demanded Sir Charles to do the like, putting himself in a posture of defence.

Sir Charles put his hand on his sword, but drew it not. Mr Greville, said he, know your own safety; and was turning from him, when the wretch swore he would admit of no alternative, but his giving up his pretensions to Miss Byron.

His rage, as Mr Fenwick describes it from himself, making him dangerous, Sir Charles drew. I only defend myself, said he-Greville, you keep no guard-He put by his pass with his sword; and, without making a push, closed in with him; twisted his sword out of his hand; and, pointing his own to his breast, You see my power, sir-Take your life, and your sword-But if you are either wise, or would be thought a man of honour, tempt not again your fate.

And am I again master of my sword, and unhurt? 'Tis generous-The evening, you say?

Still I say, I will be yours in the evening, either at your own house, or at my inn; but not as a duellist, sir; you know my principles. How can this be? and he swore. How was it done?-Expose me not at Selby-House-How the devil could this be?-I expect you in the evening here.

He went off a back-way. Sir Charles, instead of going directly into his chariot, went up to his apartment; wrote his billet to my aunt to excuse himself, finding it full late to get hither in time, and being somewhat discomposed in his temper, as he owned to us: and then he took an airing in his chariot, till he came hither to dine.

But how should we have been alarmed, had we known that Sir Charles declined supping here, in order to meet the violent man again at his inn! And how did we again blame ourselves for taking amiss his not supping with us!

Mr Fenwick says, that Mr Greville got him to accompany him to the George.

Sir Charles apologized, with great civility, to Mr Greville, for making him wait for him. Mr Greville, had he been disposed for mischief, had no use of his right arm. It was strained by the twisting of his sword from it, and in a sling.

Sir Charles behaved to them both with great politeness; and Mr Greville owned that he had acted nobly by him, in returning his sword, even before his passion was calmed, and in not using his own. But it was some time, it seems, before he was brought into this temper. What a good deal contributed to it, was Sir Charles's acquainting him that he had not given particulars at Selby-House, or to anybody, of the affray between them; but referred it to himself to give them, as he should think proper. This forbearance he highly applauded, and was even thankful for it. Fenwick shall, in confidence, said he, report this matter to your honour, and my own mortification, as the truth requires, at Selby-House. Let me not be hated by Miss Byron, on this account. My passion gave me disadvantage. I will try to honour you, Sir Charles: but I must hate you if you succeed. One condition, however, I make: that you reconcile me to the Selbys and Miss Byron; and if you are likely to be successful, let me have the credit of reporting that it is by my consent.

They parted with civility; but not, it seems, till a late hour. Sir Charles, as Mr Beauchamp and Dr Bartlett have told us, was always happy in making, by his equanimity, generosity, and forgivingness, fast friends of inveterate enemies. Thank God, the issue was not unhappy!

Mr Fenwick says, that the rencounter is very little guessed at, or talked of; [Thank God for that too! and to those few, who have inquired of Mr Greville or Mr Fenwick about it, it has been denied ; and now Greville, as Mr Fenwick