The History of Sir Charles Grandison, Volume 4 (of 7)

Never surely was there such a matrimony promoter, as my brother. God give me soon my revenge upon him in the same way!

The procession afterwards was triumphant—Six coaches, four silly souls in each; and to Mr. Poussin's, at Enfield, they all drove. There they found another large company.

My brother was all cheerfulness; and both men and women seemed to contend for his notice: but they were much disappointed at finding he meant to leave them early in the evening.

One married lady, the wife of Sir – somebody, (I am very bad at remembering the names of city knights,) was resolved, she said, since they could not have Sir Charles to open the ball, to have one dance before dinner with the handsomest man in England. The music was accordingly called in; and he made no scruple to oblige the company on a day so happy.

Do you know, Harriet, that Sir Charles is supposed to be one of the finest dancers in England? Remember, my dear, that on Tuesday—[Lord help me! I shall be then stupid, and remember nothing]—you take him out yourself: and then you will judge for yourself of his excellence in this science—May we not call dancing a science? If we judge by the few who perform gracefully in it, I am sure we may; and a difficult one too.

O!—And remember, Harriet, that you get somebody to call upon him to sing—You shall play—I believe I shall forget, in that only agreeable moment of the day, (for you have a sweet finger, my love,) that I am the principal fool in the play of the evening.

O, Harriet,—how can I, in the circumstances I am in, write any more about these soft souls, and silly? Come to me by day-dawn, and leave me not till—I don't know when. Come, and take my part, my dear: I shall hate this man: he does nothing but hop, skip, and dance about me, grin and make mouths; and every body upholds him in it.

Must this (I hope not!) be the last time that I write myself to you

CHARLOTTE GRANDISON?

LETTER XVII

MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY ST. JAMES'S-SQUARE, FRIDAY MORNING, APRIL 7

Sir Charles Grandison set out early this morning for Lord W–'s, in his way to Lady Mansfield's. I am here with this whimsical Charlotte.

Lady L–, Miss Jervois, myself, and every female of the family, or who do business for both sisters out of it, are busy in some way or other, preparatory to the approaching Tuesday.

Miss Grandison is the only idle person. I tell her, she is affectedly so.

The earl has presented her, in his son's name, with some very rich trinkets. Very valuable jewels are also bespoke by Lord G–, who takes Lady L–'s advice in every thing; as one well read in the fashions.

New equipages are bespoke; and gay ones they will be.

Miss Grandison confounded me this morning by an instance of her generosity. She was extremely urgent with me to accept, as her third sister, of her share of her mother's jewels. You may believe, that I absolutely refused such a present. I was angry with her; and told her, she had but one way of making it up with me; and that was, that since she would be so completely set out from her lord, she would unite the two halves, by presenting hers to Lady L–, who had refused jewels from her lord on her marriage; and who then would make an appearance, occasionally, as brilliant as her own.

She was pleased with the hint; and has actually given them (unknown to any body but me) to her jeweller; who is to dispose them in such figures, as shall answer those she herself is to have, which Lady L– has not. And by this contrivance, which will make them in a manner useless to herself, she thinks she shall oblige her sister, however reluctant, to accept of them.

Lady Gertrude is also preparing some fine presents for her niece elect: but neither the delighted approbation of the family she is entering into, nor the satisfaction expressed by her own friends, give the perverse Charlotte any visible joy, nor procure for Lord G– the distinction which she ought to think of beginning to pay him. But, for his part, never was man so happy. He would, however, perhaps, fare better from her, if he could be more moderate in the outward expression of his joy; which she has taken it into her head to call an insult upon her.

She does not, however, give the scope she did before the day was fixed, to her playful captiousness. She is not quite so arch as she was. Thoughtfulness, and a seeming carelessness of what we are employed in, appear in her countenance. She saunters about, and affects to be diverted by her harpsichord only. What a whimsical thing is Charlotte Grandison! But still she keeps Lord G– at distance. I told her an hour ago, that she knows not how to condescend to him with that grace which is so natural to her in her whole behaviour to every body else.

I have been talking to Dr. Bartlett, about Sir Charles's journey to Italy. Nobody knows, he says, what a bleeding heart is covered by a countenance so benign and cheerful. Sir Charles Grandison, said he, has a prudence beyond that of most young men; but he has great sensibilities.

I take it for granted, sir, that he will for the future be more an Italian than Englishman.

Impossible, madam! A prudent youth, by travelling, reaps this advantage —From what he sees of other countries, he learns to prefer his own. An imprudent one the contrary. Sir Charles's country is endeared to him by his long absence from it. Italy in particular is called the garden of Europe; but it is rather to be valued for what it was, and might be, than what it is. I need not tell a lady who has read and conversed as you have done, to what that incomparable difference is owing. Sir Charles Grandison is greatly sensible of it. He loves his country, with the judgment of a wise man; and wants not the partiality of a patriot.

But, doctor, he has offered, you know, to reside—There I stopt.

True, madam—And he will not recede from his offers, if they are claimed.

But this uncertainty it is that disturbs him.

I pity my patron, proceeded he. I have often told you he is not happy.

What has indiscretion to expect, when discretion has so much to suffer?

His only consolation is, that he has nothing to reproach himself with.

Inevitable evils he bears as a man should. He makes no ostentation of his piety: but, madam, Sir Charles Grandison is a CHRISTIAN.

You need not, sir, say more to me to exalt him: and, let me add, that I have no small pleasure in knowing that Clementina is a lady of strict piety, though a Roman Catholic.

And let me assure you, madam, that Sir Charles's regard for Miss Byron (his more than regard for her, why should I not say? since every body sees it) is founded upon her piety, and upon the amiable qualities of her mind. Beauty, madam, is an accidental and transient good. No man better knows how to distinguish between admiration and love, than my patron. His virtue is virtue upon full proof, and against sensibilities, that it is heroic to overcome. Lady Olivia knows this: and here I must acknowledge myself a debtor to you for three articles out of your ten. I hope soon to discharge the obligation.

Your own time, doctor: but I must say, that whenever you give me Lady Olivia's story, I shall be pained, if I find that a Clementina is considered by a beauty of an unhappier turn, as her rival in the love of Sir Charles Grandison.

Lady Olivia, madam, admires him for his virtue; but she cannot, as he has made it his study to do, divide admiration from love. What offers has she not refused?—But she declares, that she had rather be the friend of Sir Charles Grandison, than the wife of the greatest prince on earth.

This struck me: Have not I said something like it? But surely with innocence of heart. But here the doctor suggests, that Olivia has put his virtue to the proof: Yet I hope not.

The FRIEND, Dr. Bartlett!—I hope that no woman who is not quite given up to dishonour, will pollute the sacred word, by affixing ideas to it, that cannot be connected with it. A friend is one of the highest characters that one human creature can shine in to another. There may be love, that though it has no view but to honour, yet even in wedlock, ripens not into friendship. How poor are all such attachments! How much beneath the exalted notion I have of that noblest, that most delicate union of souls! You wonder at me, Dr. Bartlett. Let me repeat to you, sir, (I have it by heart,) Sir Charles Grandison's tender of friendship to the poor Harriet Byron, which has given me such exalted ideas of this disinterested passion; but you must not take notice that I have. I repeated those words, beginning, 'My heart demands alliance with hers'—and ending with these—'So long as it shall be consistent with her other attachments.'[1 - See page 110 of this Volume.]

The doctor was silent for a few moments. At last, What a delicacy is there in the mind of this excellent man! Yet how consistent with the exactest truth! The friendship he offers you, madam, is indeed friendship. What you have repeated can want no explanation: yet it is expressive of his uncertain situation. It is—

He stopt of a sudden.

Pray, doctor, proceed: I love to hear you talk.

My good young lady!—I may say too much. Sir Charles in these nice points must be left to himself. It is impossible for any body to express his thoughts as he can express them. But let me say, that he justly, as well as greatly, admires Miss Byron.

My heart rose against myself. Bold Harriet, thought I, how darest thou thus urge a good man to say more than he has a mind to say of the secrets of a friend, which are committed to his keeping? Content thyself with the hopes, that the worthiest man in the world would wish to call thee his, were it not for an invincible obstacle. And noble, thrice noble Clementina, be thine the preference even in the heart of Harriet Byron, because justice gives it to thee; for, Harriet, hast thou not been taught to prefer right and justice to every other consideration? And, wouldst thou abhor the thought of a common theft, yet steal an heart that is the property, and that by the dearest purchase, of another?

LETTER XVIII

MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION FRIDAY EVENING

We have had a great debate about the place in which the nuptial ceremony is to be performed.

Charlotte, the perverse Charlotte, insisted upon not going to church.

Lord G– dared not to give his opinion; though his father and Lady Gertrude, as well as every other person, were against her.

Lord L– said, that if fine ladies thought so slightly of the office, as that it might be performed anywhere, it would be no wonder, if fine gentlemen thought still more slightly of the obligation it laid them under.

Being appealed to, I said, that I thought of marriage as one of the most solemn acts of a woman's life.

And if of a woman's, of a man's, surely, interrupted Lady L–. If your whimsey, Charlotte, added she, arises from modesty, you reflect upon your sister; and, what is worse, upon your mother.

Charlotte put up her pretty lip, and was unconvinced.