THE
HISTORY
OF
SIR CHARLES GRAND1SON;
IN A
SERIES OF LETTERS.
BY MR. SAMUEL RICHARDSON,
AUTHOR OF PAMELA AND CLARISSA.
IN SEVEN VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
A NEW EDITION,
WITH THE LAST CORRECTIONS BY THE AUTHOR.
£OJVDOJ\T:
PRINTED FOR J. NUNN ; J. CUTHELL ; LONGMAN, HURST, REES,
ORME, AND BROWI1 ; CADELL AND DAVIES J LACKINGTON
AND CO. ; S. BAGSTER ; J. BOOKER ; J. ASPERNE ; A. K.
NEWMAN AND CO. ; BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY ; G. AND
W. B. WHITTAKER ; R. HUNTER ; RODWELL AND MARTIN J
c. TAYLOR: AND WILSON AND SONS, YORK.
1820.
PR
JAN 26 1366
'852
V-/
PREFACE.
THE Editor of the following Letters takes leave to
observe, that he has now, in this publication, com
pleted the plan, that was the object of his wishes,
rather than of his hopes, to accomplish.
The first collection which he published, intituled
PAMELA, exhibited the beauty and superiority
of virtue in an innocent and unpolished mind, with
the reward which often, even in this life, a protect
ing Providence bestows on goodness. A young
woman of low degree, relating to her honest parents
the severe trials she met with from a master who
ought to have been the protector, not the assailer
of her honour, shews the character of a libertine in
its truly contemptible light. This libertine, how
ever, from the foundation of good principles laid in
his early years by an excellent mother ; by his pas
sion for a virtuous young woman ; and by her ami
able example, and unwearied patience, when she
became his wife ; is, after a length of time, perfectly
reclaimed.
The second collection, published under the title
of CLARISSA, displayed a more melancholy scene.
A young lady of higher fortune, and born to happier
VOL. i. a
IV PREFACE.
hopes, is seen involved in such variety of deep dis
tresses, as lead her to an untimely death ; affording
a warning to parents against forcing the inclinations
of their children in the most important article of
their lives ; and to children against hoping too far
from the fairest assurances of a man void of princi
ple. The heroine, however, as a truly Christian
heroine, proves superior to her trials; and her
heart, always excellent, refined and exalted by every
one of them, rejoices in the approach of a happy
eternity. Her cruel destroyer appears wretched
and disappointed, even in the boasted success of his
vile machinations : but still (buoyed up with self-
conceit and vain presumption) he goes on, after
every short fit of imperfect, yet terrifying conviction,
hardening himself more and more ; till, unreclaimed
by the most affecting warnings, and repeated admo
nitions, he perishes miserably in the bloom of life,
and sinks into the grave oppressed with guilt, re
morse, and horror. His letters, it is hoped, afford
many useful lessons to the gay part of mankind
against that misuse of wit and youth, of rank and
fortune, and of every outward accomplishment,
which turns them into a curse to the miserable pos
sessor, as well as to all around him.
Here the editor apprehended he should be obliged
to stop, by reason of his precarious state of health,
and a variety of avocations which claimed his first
attention: but it >\ as insisted on by several of his
friends, who were well assured he had the materials
PREFACE. V
in his power, that he should produce into public
view the character and actions of a man of TRUE
HONOUR.
He has been enabled to obey these his friends,
and to complete his first design : and now, therefore,
presents to the public, in Sir CHARLES GRANDISON,
the example of a man acting uniformly well through
a variety of trying scenes, because all his actions
are regulated by one steady principle : a man of
religion and virtue ; of liveliness and spirit ; accom
plished and agreeable ; happy in himself, and a bless
ing to others.
From what has been premised, it may be supposed,
that the present collection is not published ulti
mately, nor even principally, any more than the
other two, for the sake of entertainment only. A
much nobler end is in view. Yet it is hoped the
variety of characters and conversations necessarily
introduced into so large a correspondence as these
volumes contain, will enliven as well as instruct :
the rather, as the principal correspondents are
young ladies of polite education, arid of lively
spirits.
The nature of familiar letters, written, as it were,
to the moment, while the heart is agitated by hopes
and fears, on events undecided, must plead an ex
cuse for the bulk of a collection of this kind. Mere
facts and characters might be comprised in a much
smaller compass : but, would they be equally inter
esting ? It happens fortunately, that an account of
a2
Vi PREFACE.
the juvenile years of the principal person is narra
tively given in some of the letters. As many, how
ever, as could be spared, have been omitted. There
is not one episode in the whole ; nor, after Sir
CHARLES GHANDISON is introduced, one letter in
serted but what tends to illustrate the principal
design. Those which precede his introduction, will
not, it is hoped, be judged unnecessary on the whole,
as they tend to make the reader acquainted with
persons, the history of most of whom is closely in
terwoven with that of Sir Charles.
SONNET.
SWEET moralist, whose generous labours tend
With ceaseless diligence, to guide the mind,
In the wild maze of error wandering blind,
To virtue, truth, and honour, glorious end
Of glorious toils ! Vainly would I commend,
In numbers worthy of your sense refin'd,
This last great work, which leaves all praise be
hind,
And justly styles you of mankind the friend :
Pleasure with profit artful while you blend,
And now the fancy, now the judgment feed
With grateful change, which every passion sways
Numbers, who ne'er to graver lore attend,
Caught by the charm, grow virtuous as they read;
And lives reform'd shall give you genuine praise.
T. E
NAMES OF THE PRINCIPAL PERSONS.
MEN.
George Selby, Esq.
John Greville, Esq.
Richard Fenwick, Esq>
Robert Orme, Esq.
Archibald Reeves, Esq.
Sir Rowland Meredith, Knt.
James Fowler, Esq.
Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, Bart.
The Earl of L. a Scottish nobleman.
Thomas Deane, Esq.
Sir CHARLES GRANDISON, Bart.
James Bagenhall, Esq.
Mr. Solomon Merceda.
John Jordan, Esq.
Sir Harry Beauchamp, Bart.
Edward Beauchamp, Esq. his son.
Everard Grandison, Esq.
The Rev. Dr. Bartlett.
Lord W. uncle to Sir Charles Grandison.
Lord G. son of the Earl ofG.
ITALIANS.
Marchese della Porretta, the father.
Marchese della Porretta, his eldest son.
The Bishop o/'Nocera, his second son.
Signor Jeronymo della Porretta, third son.
Conte della Porretta, their uncle.
Count of Belvedere.
Father Marescotti.
WOMEN.
Miss Harriet Byron.
Mrs. Shirley, her grandmother, by the mothers side.
Mrs. Selby, sister to Miss ftyi'onsfather, and wife of
Mr. Selby.
Miss Orme, sister of Mr. Orme.
Mrs. Reeves, wife of Mr. Reeves, cousin of Miss Byron .
Lady Betty Williams.
The Countess ofL. wife of Lord L. eldest sister of Sir
Charles Grandison.
Miss Grandison, younger sister of Sir Charles.
Mrs. Eleanor Grandison, aunt to Sir Charles.
Miss Emily Jervois, his ward.
Lady Mansfield.
Lady Beauchamp.
The Countess Dowager ofD.
Mrs. Hortensia Beaumont.
ITALIANS.
Marchese delta Porretta.
Signora Clementina, her daughter.
Signora Juliana Sforza, sister to the Marchese della
Porretta.
Signora Laurana, her daughter.
Signora Olivia.
Camilla, Lady Clementina's governess.
Laura, her maid.
THE
HISTORY
OP
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON,BART.
LETTER I.
MISS LUCY SELBY TO MISS HARRIET BYRON.
Ashby-Canons, January 10.
YOUR resolution to accompany Mrs. Reeves to
London, has greatly alarmed your three lovers:
and two of them, at least, will let you know that it
has. Such a lovely girl as my Harriet, must expect
to be more accountable for her steps than one less
excellent and less attractive.
Mr. Greville, in his usual resolute way, threatens
to follow you to London; and there, he says, he will
watch the motions of every man who approaches you ;
and, if he find reason for it, will early let such man
know hu pretensions, and the danger he may run
into, if lie pretend to be his competitor. But let
me not do him injustice; though he talks of a rival
thus harshly, he speaks of you more highly than
man ever spoke of woman. Angel and goddess are
VOL. I, B
2 THE HISTORY OF
phrases you have been used to from him; and
though spoken in his humorous way, yet I am sure
he most sincerely admires you.
Mr. Fenwick, in a less determined manner, de
clares, that he will follow you to town, if you stay
there above one fortnight.
The gentle Orme sighs his apprehensions, and
wishes you would change your purpose. Though
hopeless, he says, it is some pleasure to him that he
can think himself in the same county with you ; and
much more, that he can tread in your footsteps to
and from church every Sunday, and behold you
there. He wonders how your grandmamma, your
aunt, your uncle, can spare you. Your cousin
Reeves's surely, he says, are very happy in their
influences over us all.
Each of the gentlemen is afraid, that by increas
ing the number of your admirers, you will increase
his difficulties : but what is that to them, I asked,
when they already know, that you are not inclined
to favour any of the three ?
If you hold your resolution, and my cousin Reeves's
their time of setting out, pray let me know, and I
will attend you at my uncle Selby's, to wish you a
good journey, much pleasure in town, and a return
with a safe and sound heart. My sister, who, poor
dear girl, continues extremely weak and low, will
spare me for a purpose -so indispensable. I will not
have you come to us. I know it will grieve you
to see her in the way she is in. You too much take
to heart the infirmities of your friends which you
cannot cure ; and as your grandmamma lives upon
your smiles, and you rejoice all your friends by your
cheerfulness, it would be cruel to make you sad.
* * *
Mr. Greville has just left us. He dropt in upon
us as we were going to dinner. My grandmother
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. $
Selby you know is always pleased with his rattling.
She prevailed on him to alight, and sit down with
us. All his talk was of you. He repeated his for
mer threatenings (as I called them to him) on your
going to town. After dinner, he read us a letter from
Lady Frampton relating to you. He read us also
some passages from the copy of his answer, with
design, I believe, that I should ask him to leave it
behind him. He is a vain creature, you know, and
seemed fond of what he had written. I did ask him.
He pretended to make a scruple oi'your seeing it ;
but it was a faint one. However, he called for pen
and ink ; and when it was brought him, scratched
over two passages, and that with so many little flou
rishes (as you will see) that he thought they could
not be read. But the ink I furnished him with,
happening to be paler than his, you will find he was
not cunning enough. I promised to return it.
Send me a line by the bearer, to tell me if your
resolution holds as to the day.
Adieu, my dearest Harriet. May angels protect
and guide you whithersoever you go !
LUCY SELBY.
LETTER II.
MR. GREVILLE TO LADY FRAMPTON.
[Inclosed in the preceding."]
Northampton, January 6.
YOUR ladyship demands a description of the person
of the celebrated Miss Byron in our neighbour
hood ; and to know, whether, as report tells you,
love has listed me in the number of her particular
admirers? — Particular admirers you wett distin
guish; since every one who beholds her admires her.
B 2
4 THE HISTORY OF
Your ladyship confines your enquiries to her per
son, you tell me : and you own, that women are
much more solicitous about the beauties of that,
than of the mind. Perhaps it may be so ; and that
their envy is much sooner excited by the one than
the other. But who, madam, can describe the per
son of Miss Harriet Byron, and her person only ;
animated as every feature is by a mind that be
speaks all human excellence, and dignifies her in
every air, in every look, in every motion ?
No man living has a greater passion for beauty than
I have. Till I knew Miss Byron, I was one of those
who regarded nothing else in the sex. Indeed, I con
sidered all intellectual attainments as either useless
or impertinent in women. Your ladyship knows
what were my free notions on this head, and has
rebuked me for them. A wise, a learned lady, I
considered as a very unnatural character. I wanted
women to be all love, and nothing else. A very
little prudence allowed I to enter into their composi
tion ; just enough to distinguish the man of sense
from the fool ; and that for my own sake. You
know I have vanity, madam : but lovely as Miss
Byron's person is, I defy the greatest sensualist on
earth not to admire her mind more than her person.
What a triumph would the devil have, as I have often
thought, when I have stood contemplating her per
fections, especially at church, were he able to raise
up a man that could lower this angel into woman?
— Pardon me ! — Your ladyship knows my mad way
of saying every thing that rises to my thoughts. 4
Sweetness of temper must make plain features
glow : what an effect must it then have upon fine
ones ? Never was there a sweeter-tempered woman.
Indeed from sixteen to twenty, all the sex (kept
in humour by their hopes, and by their attractions)
are said to be good-tempered ; but she is remarka-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 5
bly so. She is just turned of twenty, but looks not
more than seventeen. Her beauty hardly yet in its
full blow, will last longer, I imagine, than in an ear
lier blossom. Yet the prudence visible in her whole
aspect, gave her a distinction, even at twelve, that
promised what she would be at a riper age.
Yet with all this reigning good-nature visible in
her face and manner, there is such a native dignity
in all she says, in all she does (though mingled with
a frankness that shews her mind's superiority to the
minds of almost all other women) that it damps
and suppresses, in the most audacious, all imagina
tions of bold familiarity.
I know not, by my soul, how she does this nei
ther : yet so it is. She jests ; she raillies : but I
cannot railly her again. Love, it is said, dignifies
the adored object. Perhaps it is that which awes
me.
And now will your ladyship doubt of an affirma
tive answer to your second question, Whether love
has listed me in the number of her particular ad
mirers ?
He has : and the devil take me if I can help my
self: and yet I have no encouragement — nor any
body else ; that's my consolation. Fenwick is deeper
in, if possible, than I. We had at our first acquaint
ance, as you have heard, a tilting-bout on the occa
sion: but are sworn friends now; each having agreed
to try his fortune by patience and perseverance;
and being assured that the one has no more of her
favour to boast of, than the other*. " We have
indeed blustered away between us half a score more
of her admirers. Poor whining Orme, however, per-
* The passages in this letter thus marked (") are those
which in the preceding one are said to be scratched out ; but
yet were legible by holding up the letter to the light.
6 THE HISTORY OF
severes. But of him we make no account : he has
a watery head, and though he finds a way, by his
sister, who visits at Mr Selby's, and is much
esteemed there, to let Miss Byron know his pas
sion for her, notwithstanding the negative he has
received ; yet doubt we not that she is safe from
a flame that he will quench with his tears, before
it can rise to a head to disturb us.
" You ladies love men should whine after you ;
but never yet did I find, that where a blustering
fellow was a competitor, the lady married the
milksop."
But let me in this particular do Miss Byron justice :
how she manages it I cannot tell ; but she is cour
teous to all ; nor could ever any man charge her
either with pride or cruelty. All I. fear, is, that she
has such an equality in her temper, that she can hard
ly find room in her heart for a particular love: Nor
will, till she meets with one whose mind is nearly as
faultless as her own ; and the general tenor of whose
life and actions calls upon her discretion to give her
leave to love. " This apprehension I owe to a con
versation I had with her grandmother Shirley; a
lady that is an ornament to old age ; and who hint
ed to me, that her grand-daughter had exceptions
both to Fenwick and me, on the score of ajew in-
dulgencies that perhaps have been too public ; but
which all men of fashion and spirit give themselves,
and all women, but this, allow of, or hate not men
the worse for. But then what is her objection to
Orme ? He is a sober, dog."
She was but eight years old when her mother
died. She also was an excellent woman. Her death
was brought on by grief for that of her husband ;
which happened but six months before— a rare in
stance !
The grandmother and aunt, to whom the girl
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 7
is dutiful to a proverb, will not interfere with her
choice. If they are applied to for their interest, the
answer is constantly this : the approbation of their
Harriet must be first gained, and then their con
sent is ready.
There is a Mr. Deane, a man of an excellent
character for a lawyer ; but indeed he left off prac
tice on coming into possession of a handsome estate.
He was the girl's godfather. He is allowed to have
great influence over them all. Harriet calls him
papa. To him I have applied ; but his answer is
the very same : his daughter Harriet must choose
for herself: all motions of this kind must come first
from her.
And ought/ to despair of succeeding with the girl
herself? I, her Greville ; not contemptible in person ;
an air — free and easy, at least; having a good estate
in possession ; fine expectances besides ; dressing
well, singing well, dancing well, and blest with a mo
derate share of confidence ; which makes other women
think me a clever fellow: she, a girl of twenty; her
fortune between ten and fifteen thousand pounds
only; for her father's considerable estate, on his de
mise, for want of male heirs, went with the name ;
her grandmother's jointure not more than 5001. a
year. — And what though her uncle Selby has no
children, and loves her, yet has he nephews and
nieces of his own, whom he also loves ; for this
Harriet is his wife's niece.
I will not despair. If resolution, if perseverance
will do, and if she be a woman, she shall be mine —
and so I have told her aunt Selby, and her uncle
too; and so I have told Miss Lucy Selby, her
cousin, as she calls her, who is highly and de
servedly in her favour ; and so indeed have I more
than once told the girl herself.
But now to the description of her person — Let me
3
8 THE HISTORY OF
die, if I know where to begin. She is all over love
liness. Does not every-body*else who has seen her
tell you so ? Her stature; shall I begin with her sta
ture ? She cannot be said to be tall ; but yet is some
thing above the middling. Her shape — But what
care I for her shape ? I, who hope to love her still
more, though possession may make me admire her
less, when she has not that to boast of? We young
fellows who have been abroad, are above regarding
English shapes, and prefer to them the French neg
ligence. By the way, I think the foreign ladies in
the right, that they aim not at what they cannot at
tain. Whether we are so much in the right to come
into their taste, is another thing. But be this as it
will, there is so much ease and dignity in the per
son, in the dress, and in every air and motion, of
Miss Harriet Byron, that fine shapes will ever be
in fashion where she is, be either native or fo
reigner the judge.
Her complexion is admirably fair and clear. I
have sat admiring her complexion, till I have ima
gined I have seen the life-blood flowing with equal
course through her translucent veins.
Her forehead, so nobly free and open, shews dig
nity and modesty, andstrikes into one akindofau>e,
singly contemplated, that (from the delight which
accompanies the awe) I know not how to describe.
Every single feature, in short, will bear the nicest
examination ; and her whole face, and her neck, so
admirably set on her finely-proportioned shoulders
— let me perish, if, taking her altogether, I do not
hold her to be the most unexceptionable beauty I
ever beheld. But what still is her particular excel
lence, and distinguishes her from all other English
women (for it must be acknowledged to be a charac
teristic of the French women of quality) is the grace
which that people call physiognomy, and we may
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, 9
call expression : had not her features and her com
plexion been so fine as they are, that grace alone*
that soul shining out in her lovely aspect, joined
with the ease and gracefulness of her motion, would
have made her as many admirers as beholders.
After this, shall I descend to a more particular
description ? — I will.
Her cheek — I never saw a cheek so beautifully
turned ; illustrated as it is by a charming carmine
flush, which denotes sound health. A most be
witching dimple takes place in each when she smiles;
and she has so much reason to be pleased with her
self, and with all about her (for she is the idol of her
relations) that I believe from infancy she never
frowned; nor can a frown, it is my opinion, sit upon
her face for a minute. Would to Heaven I were
considerable enough with her to prove the contrary !
Her mouth — There never was so lovely a mouth.
But no wonder; since such rosy lips, and such ivory
and even teeth, must give beauty to a mouth less
charming than hers.
Her nose adds dignity to her other features. Her
chin is sweetly turned, and almost imperceptibly
dimpled.
Her eyes ; — Ay, madam, her eyes ! — Good hea
ven ! what a lustre, yet not a fierce, but a mild lus
tre ! How have I despised the romancing poets for
their unnatural descriptions of the eyes of their
heroines ! But I have thought those descriptions,
though absurd enough in conscience, less absurd
(allowing something for poetical licence) ever since
I beheld those of Miss Harriet Byron.
Her hair is a real and unlaboured ornament to
her. All natural its curls : art has no share in the
lustre it gives to her other beauties.
I mentioned her neck — Here I dare not trust my
self—Inimitable creature ! All-attracting loveliness.
10 THE HISTORY OF
Her arm— Your ladyship knows my passion for
a delicate arm. By my soul, madam, your own
does not exceed it.
Her hands are extremely fine. Such fingers !
And they accustomed to the pen, to the needle,
to the harpsichord ; excelling in all — O madam ;
women have souls. I am now convinced they have.
I dare own to your ladyship, that once I doubted
it, on a supposition that they were given us for tem
porary purposes only. And have I not seen her
dance ! have I not heard her sing ! But indeed,
mind and person, she is all harmony.
Then for reading, for acquired knowledge, what
lady so young — But you know the character of her
grandfather Shirley. He was a man of universal
learning, and, from his public employments abroad,
as polite as learned. This girl, from seven years of
age, when he came to settle in England, to four
teen, when she lost him, was his delight ; and her
education and instruction the amusement of his va
cant hours. This is the period, he used to say, in
which the foundations of all female goodness are to
be laid, since so soon after fourteen they leap into
women. The dead languages he aimed not to teach
her ; lest he should overload her young mind : but
in the Italian and French he made her an adept.
Nor were the advantages common ones which
she received from his lady, her grandmother, and
from her aunt Selby, her father's sister, a woman of
equal worthiness. Her grandmother particularly is
one of the most pious, yet most cheerful, of women.
She will not permit her daughter Byron, she says, to
live with her, for both their sakes. For the girl's
sake, because there is a greater resort of company
at Mr. Selby's, than at Shirley manor; and she is
afraid, as her grandchild has a serious turn, that her
own contemplative life may make her more grave
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 11
than she wishes so young a woman to be. Youth, she
says, is the season for cheerfulness. For her otvn
sake, because she looks upon her Harriet's company
as a cordial too rich to be always at hand ; and when
she has a mind to regale, she will either send for her,
fetch her, or visit her at Mrs. Selby's. One of her
letters to Mrs. Selby I once saw. It ran thus —
" You must spare me my Harriet. I am in pain.
My spirits are not high. I would not have the un-
decayed mind yield, for want of using the means,
to the decaying body. One happy day with our
child, the true child of the united minds of her late
excellent parents, will, I hope, effect the cure : if
it do not, you must spare her to me two."
Did I not tell you, madam, that it was very diffi
cult to describe the person only of this admirable
young lady? But I stop here. A horrid appre
hension comes across me ! How do I know but I
am praising another man's /ztlure wife, and not my
own? Here is a cousin of hers, a Mrs. Reeves, a
fine lady from London, come down under the
cursed influence of my evil stars, to carry this Har
riet away with her into the gay world. Woman !
woman ! — I beg your ladyship's pardon ; but what
angel of twenty is proof against vanity? The
first hour she appears, she will be a toast ; stars
and titles will crowd about her : and who knows
how far a paltry coronet may dazzle her who de
serves an imperial crown ? But, woe to the man,
whoever he be, whose pretensions dare to inter
fere (and have any assurance of success) with
those of
Your ladyship's
Most obedient and faithful servant,
JOHN GREVILLE.
12 THE HISTORY OP
LETTER III.
MISS HARRIET BYRON TO MISS LUCY SELBY.
Selby-liouse, Jan. 16.
I RETURN you inclosed, my Lucy, Mr. Greville's
strange letter. As you asked him for it, he will
have no doubt but you shewed it to me. It is better
therefore, if he make enquiry whether you did or
not, to own it. In this case he will be curious to
know my sentiments upon it. He is sensible that
my whole heart is open to you.
Tell him, if you think proper, in so many words,
that I am far more displeased with him for his im
petuosity, than gratified by his flattery.
Tell him, that I think it very hard, that when my
nearest relations leave me so generously to my li
berty, a man to whom I never gave cause to treat
me with disrespect, should take upon himself to
threaten and controul me.
Ask him, What are his pretences for following
me to London, or elsewhere ?
If I had not had reasons before to avoid a more
than neighbourly civility to him, he has now fur
nished me with very strong ones. The threatening
lover must certainly make a tyrant husband. Don't
you think so, Lucy ? But make not supposals of
lover or husband to him: these bold men will turn
shadows into substance in their own favour.
A woman who is so much exalted above what she
can deserve, has reason to be terrified, were she to
marry the complimenter (even could she suppose
him so blinded by his passion as not to be absolutely
insincere) to think of the height she must fall from
in his opinion, when she has put it into his power
to treat her but as what she is.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 13
Indeed I both despise and/car a very high com-
plimenter. — Despise him for his designing flattery,
supposing him not to believe himself; or, if he
mean what he says, for his injudiciousness. \fear
him, lest he should (as in the former case he must
hope) be able to raise a vanity in me, that would
sink me beneath hisr meanness, and give him cause
to triumph over my folly, at the very time that I
am full of my own wisdom.
High-strained compliments, in short, always pull
me down ; always make me shrink into myself,
Have I not some vanity to guard against ? I have
no doubt but Mr. Greville wished I should see
this letter : and this gives me some little indigna
tion against myself; for does it not look as if, from
some faults in my conduct, Mr. Greville had formed
hopes of succeeding by treating me like a fool ?
I hope these gentlemen will not follow me to
town, as they threaten. If they do, I will not see
them, if I can any way avoid it. Yet, for me to
appear to them solicitous on this head, or to desire
them not to go, will be in some measure to lay my
self under an obligation to their acquiescence. It is
not therefore for me to hope to influence them in
this matter, since they expect too much in return for
it from me ; and since they will be ready to found
a merit in their passion even for disobliging me.
I cannot bear, however, to think of their dangling
after me wherever I go. These men, my dear, were
we to give them importance with us, would be
greater infringers of our natural feedom than the
most severe parents; and for their own sakes: where
as parents, if ever so despotic (if not unnatural ones
indeed) mean solely our good, though headstrong
girls do not always think so. Yet such, even such
cm be teazed out of their wills, at least out of their
duty, by the men who stile themselves lovers, when
c
THE HISTORY OF
they are invincible to all the entreaties and com
mands of their parents.
O that the next eight or ten years of my life, if I
find not in the interim a man on whom my whole
undivided heart can fix, were happily over ! As hap
pily as the last alike important four years ! To be
able to look down from the elevation of thirty years,
my principles fixed, and to have no capital folly to re
proach myself with, what a happiness would that be !
My cousin Reeves's time of setting out holds ;
the indulgence of my dearest friends continues ;
and my resolution holds. But I will see my Nancy
before I set out. What ! shall I enter upon a
party of pleasure, and leave in my heart room to
reflect, in the midst of it, that there is a dear suf
fering friend who had reason to think I was afraid
of giving myself pain, when I might, by the balm
of true love and friendly soothings, administer com
fort to her wounded heart ? — No, my Lucy, believe
me, if I have not generosity enough, I have set-
tfishness enough, to make me avoid a sting so severe
'as this would be, to your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER IV.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Grosvenor-street, Tuesday, Jan. 24.
WE are just arrived. We had a very agreeable
journey.
I need not tell you that Mr. Greville and Mr.
Fenwick attended us to our first baiting ; and had
a genteel dinner ready provided for us : the gen
tleman will tell you this, and all particulars.
They both renewed their menaces of following
me to London, if I staid above one month. They
were so good as to stretch their fortnighttoamonth.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 15
Mr. Fenwick, in very pathetic terms, as he found
an opportunity to engage me alone for a few mi
nutes, besought me to love him. Mr. Greville was
as earnest with me to declare that I hated him.
Such a declaration, he said, was all he at present
wished for. It was strange, he told me, that he
could neither prevail on me to encourage his love,
nor to declare my hatred. He is a whimsical
creature.
I raillied him with my usual freedom ; and told
him, that if there were one person in the world
that I was capable of hating, I could make the less
scruple to oblige him. He thanked me for that.
The two gentlemen would fain have proceeded
farther : but as they are never out of their way, I
dare say, they would have gone to London ; and
there have dangled on till we should not have got
rid of them, for my whole time of being in town.
I was very gravely earnest with them to leave us,
when we stept into the coach in order to proceed.
Fenwick, you dog, said Mr. Greville, we must re
turn ; Miss Byron looks grave. Gravity, and a
rising colour in the finest face in the world, indi
cate as much as the frowns of other beauties. And
in the most respectful manner they both took leave
of me ; insisting, however, on my hand, and that I
would wish them well.
I gave each my hand ; I wish you very well,
gentlemen, said I : and I am obliged to your ci
vility in seeing me so far on my journey : especially
as you are so kind as to leave me here.
Why, dear madam, did you not spare your espe
cially, said Mr. Greville ? — Come, Fenwick, let us
retire, and lay our two loggerheads together, and
live over again the past hour, and then hang our
selves.
Poor Mr. Orme ! The coach, at our first setting
c 2
16 THE HISTORY OF
out, passed by his park-gate, you know. There
was he — on the very ridge of the highway. I saw
him not till it was near him. He bowed to the very
ground, with such an air of disconsolateness! — Poor
Mr. Orme ! — I wished to have said one word to
him, when we had passed him : but the coach flew
— Why did the coach fly!- But I waved my hand,
and leaned out of the coach as far as I could, and
bowed to him.
O. Miss Byron, said Mrs. Reeves (so said Mr.
Reeves) Mr. Orme is the happy man.
Did I think as you do, I should not be so desirous
to have spoken to him : but, methinks, I should
have been glad to have once said, Adieu, Mr. Orme;
for Mr. Orme is a good man.
But, Lucy, my heart was softened at parting
with my dear relations and friends; and when the
heart is softened, light impressions will go deep.
My cousins' house is suitable to their fortune :
very handsome, and furnished in taste. Mrs.
Reeves, knowing well what a scribbler I am, and
am expected to be, has provided me with pen, ink,
and paper, in abundance- She readily allowed me
to take early possession of my apartment, that I
might pay punctual obedience to the commands of
all my friends on setting out. These, you know,
were to write in the first hour of my arrival : and
it was allowed to be to you, my dear. But, writing
thus early, what can have occurred ?
My apartment is extremely elegant. A well-
furnished book-case is, however, to me the most
attracting ornament in it ? — Pardon me, dear pen
and ink ! I must not prefer any thing to you, by
whose means I hope to spend some part of every
day at Selby-house; and even at this distance
amuse with my prattle those friends that are always
so partial to it.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 17
And now, my dear, my revered grandmamma, I
ask your blessing — yours, my ever-indulgent aunt
Selby — and yours, my honoured and equally be
loved uncle Selby. Who knows but you will now
in absence take less delight in teazing your ever-du
tiful Harriet? But yet I unbespeak not my monitor.
Continue to love me, my Lucy, as I shall endea
vour to deserve your love : and let me know how
our dear Nancy does.
My heart bleeds for her. I should have held
myself utterly inexcusable, had I accepted of your
kindly intended dispensation, and come to town for
three whole months, without repeating to her, by
word of mouth, my love and my sympathizing con
cern for her. What merit does her patience add
to her other merits ! How has her calamity en
deared her to me ! If ever I shall be heavily af
flicted, God give me her amiable, her almost me
ritorious patience in sufferings !
To my cousin Holles's, and all my other rela
tions, .friends, companions, make the affectionate
compliments of your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER V.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Jan. 25.
You rejoice me, my dear, in the hopes which, you
tell me, Dr. Mitchell from London gives you in
relation to our Nancy. May our incessant prayers
for the restoration of her health be answered !
Three things my aunt Selby, and you, in the
name of every one of my friends, injoined me at
parting. The t first, To write often, very often, were
your words. This injunction was not needful: my
c3
18 THE HISTORY OF
heart is with you ; and the good news you give me
of my grandmamma's health, and of our Nancy,
enlarges that heart. The second, To give you a de
scription of the persons and characters of the peo
ple I 'am likely to be conversant with in this great
town. And, thirdly, Besides the general account
which you all expected from me of the visits I made
and received, you injoined me to acquaint you with
the very beginnings of every address (and even of
every silent and respectful distinction, were your
words) that the girl whom you all so greatly favour,
might receive on this excursion to town.
Don't you remember what my uncle Selby an
swered to this ? — / do : and will repeat it, to shew,
that his correcting cautions shall not be forgotten.
The vanity of the sex, said he, will not suffer
any thing of this sort to escape our Harriet. Wo
men make themselves so cheap at the public places
in and about town, that new faces are more enquired
after than even fine faces constantly seen. Harriet
has an honest artless bloom in her cheeks; she may
attract notice as a novice: but wherefore do you
fill her head with an expectation of conquests ? Wo
men, added he, offer themselves at every public
place, in rows, as at a market. Because three or
four silly fellows here in the country (like people
at an auction, who raise the price upon each other
above its value) have bid for her, you think she will
not be able to set her foot out of doors, without
increasing the number of her followers.
And then my uncle would have it, that my head
would be unable to bear the consequence which the
partiality of my other friends gave me.
It is true, my Lucy, that we young women are
too apt to be pleased with the admiration pretended
for us by the other sex. But I have always endea
voured to keep down any foolish pride of this sort,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, 1|)
by such considerations as these : that flattery is the
vice of men : that they seek to raise us in order to
lower us, and in the end to exalt themselves on the
ruins of the pride they either hope to find, or in
spire : that humility, as it shines brightest in a high
condition, best becomes a flattered woman of all
women : that she who is puffed up by the praises
of men, on the supposed advantages of person, an
swers their end upon her ; and seems to own, that
she thinks it a principal part of hers, to be admired
by them : and what can give more importance to
them, and less to herself, than this ? For have not
women souls as well as men, and souls as capable of
the noblest attainments, as theirs ? Shall they not
therefore be most solicitous to cultivate the beau
ties of the mind, and to make those of person but
of interior consideration ? The bloom of beauty
holds but a very few years ; and shall not a woman
aim to make herself mistress of those perfections
that will dignify her advanced age ? And then may
she be as wise, as venerable — as my grandmamma.
She is an example for us, my dear : who is so much
respected, who is so much beloved, both by old and
young, as my grandmamma Shirley?
In pursuance of the second injunction, I will now
describe some young ladies and gentlemen who
paid my cousins their compliments on their arrival
in town.
Miss Allestree, daughter of Sir John Allestree,
was one. She is very pretty, and very genteel,
easy, and free. I believe I shall love her.
Miss Bramber was the second. Not so pretty
as Miss Allestree ; but agreeable in her person and
air. A little too talkative, I think.
It was one of my grandfather's rules to me, not
impertinently to start subjects, as if I would make
an ostentation of knowledge ; or as if I were fond
20 THE HISTORY OF
of indulging a talking humour : but frankness and
complaisance required, he used to say, that we
women should unlock our bosoms, when we were
called upon, and were expected to give our sen
timents upon any subject.
Miss Bramber was eager to talk. She seemed,
even when silent, to look as if she was studying for
something to say, although she had exhausted two
or three subjects. This charge of volubility, I am
the rather inclined to fix upon her, as neither Mr.
nor Mrs. Reeves took notice to me of it, as a thing
extraordinary ; which, probably, they would have
done, if she had exceeded her usual way. And yet,
perhaps, the joy of seeing her newly arrived friends
might have opened her lips. If so, your pardon,
sweet Miss Bramber !
Miss Sally, her younger sister, is very amiable
and very modest : a little kept down, as it seems,
by the vivacity of her elder sister ; between whose
ages there are about six or seven years : so that
Miss Bramber seems to regard her sister as one
whom she is willing to remember as the girl she
was two or three years ago ; for Miss Sally is not
above seventeen.
What confirmed me in this, was, that the younger
lady was a good deal more free when her sister was
withdrawn, than when she was present ; and again
pursed-up her really pretty mouth when she re
turned : and her sister addressed her always by the
word child, with an air of eldership ; while the other
called her sister, with a look of observance.
These were the ladies.
The two gentlemen who came with them, were,
Mr. Barnet, a nephew of Lady Allestree, and Mr.
Somner.
Mr. Somner is ayoung gentleman lately married ;
very affected, and very opinionated. I told Mrs.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 21
Reeves, after he was gone, that I believed he was
a dear lover of his person ; and she owned he was.
Yet had he no great reason for it. It is far from ex-
traordinary ; though he was very gaily dressed. His
wife, it seems, was a young widow of great fortune;
and till she gave him consequence by falling in love
with him, he was thought to be a modest good sort
of young man ; one that had not discovered any more
perfections in himself, than other people beheld in
him ; and this gave her an excuse for liking him.
But now he is loquacious, forward, bold, thinks
meanly of the sex ; and, what is worse, not the higher
of the lady, for the preference she has given him.
This gentleman took great notice of me ; and
yet in such a way, as to have me think, that the
approbation of so excellent a judge as himself, did
me no small honour.
Mr. Barnet is a* young man, that I imagine will
be always young. At first I thought him only a fop.
He affected to say some things, that, though trite,
were sententious, and carried with them the air of
observation. There is some degree of merit in hav
ing such a memory, as will help a person to repeat
and apply other men's wit with some tolerable pro
priety. But when he attempted to walk alone, he
said things that it was impossible a man of common
sense could say. I pronounce therefore boldly about
him : yet by his outward appearance he may pass
for one of your pretty fellows ; for he dresses very
gaily. Indeed if he has any taste, it is in dress ; and
this he has found out ; for he talked of little else,
when he led the talk ; and boasted of several parts
of his. What finished him with me, was, that as
often as the conversation seemed to take a serious
turn, he arose from his seat, and hummed an Italian
air ; of which however he knew nothing : but the
sound of his own voice seemed to please him.
22 THE HISTORY OF
This fine gentleman recollected some high-flown
compliments, and, applying them to me, looked as
if he expected I should value myself upon them.
No wonder that men in general think meanly of
us women, if they believe we have ears to hear, and
folly to be pleased with, the frothy things that pass
under the name of compliments, from such random-
shooters as these.
Miss Stevens paid us a visit this afternoon. She
is the daughter of Colonel Stevens, a very worthy
man. She appears sensible and unaffected; has
read, my cousin says, a good deal ; and yet takes no
pride in shewing it.
Miss Darlington came with her. They are related .
This young lady has, I find, a pretty taste in poetry.
Mrs. Reeves prevailed on her to shew us three of
her performances. And now, as it was with some
reluctance that she shewed them, is it fair to say
any thing about them ? I say it only to you, my
friends.— One was on the parting of two lovers ; very
sensible; and so tender, that it shewed the fair writer
knew how to describe the pangs that may be inno
cently allowed to arise on such an occasion. — One
on the morning-datun, and sun-rise ; a subject that
gave credit to herself ; for she is, it seems, a very
early riser. I petitioned for a copy of this, for the
sake of two or three of my dear cousins, as well as
to confirm my own practice; but I was modestly re
fused. — The third was on the death of a favourite
linnet ; a little too pathetic for the occasion ; since
were Miss Darlington to have lost her best and
dearest friend, I imagine she had in this piece,
which is pretty long, exhausted the subject ; and
must borrow from it some of the images which she
introduces to heighten her distress for the loss of
the little songster. It is a very difficult matter, I
believe, for young persons of genius to rein-in their
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 23
imaginations. A great flow of spirits, and great
store of images crowding in upon them, carry them
too frequently above their subject ; and they are
apt rather to say all that may be said on their fa
vourite topics, than what is proper to be said. But
it is a pretty piece, however.
Thursday morning.
LADY Betty Williams supped with us the same
evening. She is an agreeable woman, the widow
of a very worthy man, a near relation of Mr.
Reeves. She has a great and just regard for my
cousin, and consults him in all affairs of importance.
She seems to be turned of forty ; has a son and a
daughter; but they are both abroad for education.
It hurt me to hear her declare, that she cared not
for the trouble of education ; and that she had this
pleasure, which girls brought up at home seldom
give their mothers ; that she and Miss Williams al
ways saw each other, and always parted, as lovers.
Surely there must be some fault either in the
temper of the mother, or in the behaviour of the
daughter ; and if so, I doubt it will not be amended
by seeing each other but seldom. Do not lovers
thus cheat and impose upon one another ?
The young gentleman is about seventeen; his
sister about fifteen : and, as I understand she is a
very lively, and, 'tis feared, a forward girl, shall we
wonder, if in a few years time she should make
such a choice for her husband as Lady Betty would
least of all choose for a son-in-law ? What influence
can a mother expect to have over a daughter from
whom she so voluntarily estranges herself? and
from whose example the daughter can receive only
hearsay benefits ?
But after all, methinks I hear my correcting
uncle ask, May not lady Betty have better reasons
I
THE HISTORY OF
for her conduct in this particular, than she gave
'ou ? — She may, my uncle, and I hope she has :
ut I wish she had condescended to give those
better reasons, since she gave any; and then you
liad not been troubled with the impertinent re
marks of your saucy niece.
Lady Betty was so kind as to take great notice of
me. She desired to be one in every party of plea
sure that I am to be engaged in. Persons who were
often at public places, she observed, took as much
delight in accompanying strangers to them, ,as if
they were their own. The apt comparisons, she
said ; the new remarks ; the pretty wonder ; the
-agreeable passions excited in such, on the occasion;
always gave her high entertainment : and she was
sure from the observation of such a young lady,
civilly bowing to me, she should be equally delighted
and improved. I bowed in silence. I love not t©
make disqualifying speeches ; by such we seem to
intimate that we believe tlje complimenter to be in
earnest, or perhaps that we think the compliment
our due, and want to hear it either repeated or .con
firmed ; and yet, possibly, we have not that pretty
confusion, and those transient blushes, ready, which
Mr. Greville archly says are always to be at hand
when we affect to disclaim the praises given us.
Lady Betty was so good as to stop there; though
the muscles of her agreeable face shewed a polite
promptitude, had I, by disclaiming her compliments,
provoked them to perform their office.
Am I not a saucy creature?
I know I am. But I dislike not Lady Betty, for
all that.
I am to be carried by her to a masquerade, to a
ridotto ; when the season comes, to Ranelagh and
Vauxhall : in the mean time, to balls, routs, drums,
and-so-forth ; and to qualify me for these latter, I
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 25
am to be taught all the fashionable games. Did
my dear grandmamma, twenty or thirty years ago,
think she should live to be told, that to the danc
ing-master, the singing or music-master, the high
mode would require the gaming-master to be added
for the completing of the female education ?
Lady Betty will kindly take the lead in all these
diversions.
And now, Lucy, will you not repeat your wishes,
that I return to you with a sound heart? And are
you not afraid that I shall become a modern fine
lady ? As to the latter fear, I will tell you when
you shall suspect me — If you find that I prefer the
highest of these entertainments, or the opera itself,
well as I love music, to a good play of our favourite
Shakespeare, then, my Lucy, let your heart ake
for your Harriet : then, be apprehensive that she is
laid hold on by levity ; that she is captivated by
the eye and the ear ; that her heart is infected by
the modern taste; and that she will carry down
with her an appetite to pernicious gaming ; and, in
order to support her extravagance, will think of
punishing some honest man in marriage.
James has signified to Sally his wishes to be al
lowed to return to Selby-house. I have not there
fore brought him the new liveries I designed for him
on coming to town. I cannot bear an uncheerful
brow in a servant ; and he owning to me, on my
talking with him, his desire to return, I have pro
mised that he shall, as soon as Mr. Reeves has pro
vided me with another servant. — Silly fellow ! But
I hope my aunt will not dismiss him upon it. The
servant 1 may hire, may not care to go into the
country perhaps, or may not so behave, as that I
should choose to take him down with me. And
James is honest ; and his mother would break her
heart, if he should be dismissed our service.
26 THE HISTORY OF
Several servants have already offered themselves;
but, as I think people are answerable for the cha
racter of such as they choose for their domestics, I
find no small difficulty in fixing. I am not of the
mind of that great man, whose good-natured reason
for sometimes preferring men no way deserving,
was, that he loved to be a friend to those whom no
other person would befriend. This was carrying
his goodness very far (if he made it not an excuse
for himself, for having promoted a man who proved
bad afterwards, rather than as supposing him to be
so at the time) ; since else, he seemed not to con
sider, that every bad man he promoted, ran away
with the reward due to a better.
Mr. and Mrs. Reeves are so kind to me, and
their servants are so ready to oblige me, that I
shall not be very uneasy, if I cannot soon get one
to my mind. Only if I could fix on such a one,
and if my grandmamma's Oliver should leave her,
as she supposes he will, now he has married Ellen,
as soon as a good inn offers, James may supply
Oliver's place, and the new servant may continue
mine instead of James.
And now that I have gone so low, don't you wish
me to put an end to this letter ? — I believe you do.
Well then, with duty and love ever remembered
where so justly due, believe me to be, my dear Lucy,
Your truly affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.
I will write separately to what you say of Mr.
Greville, Mr. Fenwick, and Miss Orme ; yet
hope to be time enough for the post.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 27
LETTER VI.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Sat. Jan. 28.
As to what you say of Mr. Greville's concern on
my absence (and, I think, with a little too much
feeling for him) and of his declaring himself un
able to live without seeing me ; I have but one fear
about it ; which is, that he is forming a pretence
from his violent love, to come up after me : and if
he does, I will not see him, if I can help it.
And do you indeed believe him to be so much in
love ? By your seriousness on the occasion, you
seem to think he is. O my Lucy ! What a good
heart you have ! And did he not weep when he told
you so ? Did he not turn his head away, and pull
out his handkerchief! — O these dissemblers ! The
hyaena, my dear, was a male devourer. The men
in malice, and to extenuate their own guilt, made
the creature & female. And yet there may be male
and female of this species of monsters. But as
women have more to lose with regard to reputation
than men, the male hyaena must be infinitely the
more dangerous creature of the two ; since he will
come to us, even into our very houses, fawning,
cringing, weeping, licking our hands; while the
den of the female is by the highway-side, and
wretched youths must enter into it, to put it in her
power to devour them.
Let me tell you, my dear, that if there be an art
ful man in England, with regard to us women (art
ful equally in his free speaking, and in his syco-
phancies) Mr. Greville is the man ; and he intends
to be so too, and values himself upon his art. Does
he not as boldly as constantly, insinuate, that flat
tery is dearer to a woman than her food ? Yet who
D 2
28 THE HISTORY OF
so gross a flatterer as himself, when the humour is
upon him ? And yet at times he wants to build up
a merit for sincerity or plain-dealing, by saying
free things.
It is not difficult, my dear, to find out these men,
were we earnest to detect them. Their chief
strength lies in our weakness. But however weak
we are, I think we should not add to the triumph of
those who make our weakness the general subject
of their satire. We should not prove the justice
of their ridicule by our own indiscretions. But the
traitor is within us. If we guard against ourselves,
we may bid defiance to all the arts of man.
You know, that my great objection to Mr. Gre-
ville is for his immoralities. A man of free prin
ciples, shewn by practices as free, can hardly make
a tender husband, were a woman able to get over
considerations that she ought not to get over. Who
shall trust for the performance of his second duties,
the man who avowedly despises hisjirst ? Mr. Gre-
ville had a good education : he must have taken
pains to render vain the pious precepts of his wor
thy father ; and still more to make a jest of them.
Three of his women we have heard of, besides
her whom he brought with him from Wales. You
know he has only affected to appear decent since
he has cast his eyes upon me. The man, my dear,
must be an abandoned man, and must have a very
hard heart, who can pass from woman to woman,
without any remorse for a former, whom, as may
be supposed, he has by the most solemn vows se
duced. And whose leavings is it, my dear, that a
virtuous woman takes, who marries a profligate ?
Is it not reported that his Welshwoman, to
whom, at parting, he gave not sufficient for a twelve
month's scanty subsistence, is now upon the town ?
Vile man ! He thinks it to his credit, I have heard,
SIR CHARLES GHANDISON. 29
to own it a seduction, and that she was not a vicious
creature till he made her so.
One only merit has Mr. Greville to plead in this
black transaction : it is, that he has, by his whole
conduct in it, added a warning to our sex. And
shall I, despising the warning, marry a man, who,
specious as he is in his temper, and lively in his
conversation, has shown so bad a nature ?
His fortune, as you say, his great. The more
inexcusable therefore is he for his niggardliness to
his Welshwoman. On his fortune he presumes : it
will procure him a too easy forgiveness from others
of our sex : but fortune without merit will never
do with me, were the man a prince.
You say, that if a woman resolves not to marry
till she finds herself addressed to by a man of strict
virtue, she must be for ever single. If this be true,
what wicked creatures are men ? What a dreadful
abuse of passions, given them for the noblest pur
poses, are they guilty of!
I have a very high notion of the marriage-state.
I remember what my uncle once averred ; that a
woman out of wedlock is half useless to the end of
her being. How indeed do the duties of a good
wife, of a good mother, and a worthy matron, well
performed, dignify a woman ! Let my aunt Selby's
example, in her enlarged sphere, set against that of
any single woman of like years moving in her nar
row circle, testify the truth of the observation. My
grandfather used to say, that families are little com
munities ; that there are but few solid friendships
out of them ; and that they help to make up wor
thily, and to secure, the great community, of which
they are so many miniatures.
But yet it is my opinion, and I hope that I never
by my practice shall discredit it, that a woman who,
with her eyes open, marries a profligate man, had,
D3
80 THE HISTORY OF
generally, much better remain single all her life ;
since it is very likely, that by such a step she de
feats, as to herself, all the good ends of society.
What a dreadful, what a presumptuous risque runs
she, who marries a wicked man, even hoping to re
claim him, when she cannot be sure of keeping her
own principles! — Be not deceived ; evil communication
corrupts good manners; is a caution truly apostolical.
The text you mention of the unbelieving husband
being converted by the believing wife, respects, as I
take it, the first ages of Christianity ; and is an in-
itruction to the converted wife to let her uncon
verted husband see in her behaviour to him, while he
beheld her chaste conversation coupled with fear, the
efficacy upon her own heart of the excellent doc
trines she had embraced. It could not have in view
the woman who, being single, chose a. pagan husband
in hopes of converting him. Nor can it'give encour
agement for a woman of virtue and religion to marry
a profligate in hopes of reclaiming him. Who can
touch pitch, and not be dejiled?
As to Mr. Fenwick, I am far from having a bet
ter opinion of him than I have of Mr. Greville. You
know what is whispered of him. He has more de
cency however : he avows not free principles, as
the other does. But you must have observed how
much he seems to enjoy the mad talk and free sen
timents of the other: and that other always bright
ens up and rises in his freedoms and impiety on
Mr. Fenwick's sly applauses and encouraging coun
tenance. In a word, Mr. Fenwick, not having the
same lively things to say, nor so lively an air to
carry them off, as Mr. Greville has, though he
would be thought not to want sense, takes pains to
show that he has as corrupt a heart. If I thought
anger would not give him consequence, I should
hardly forbear to show myself displeased, when he
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 31
points by a leering eye, and by a broad smile, the
tree jest of the other, to the person present whom
he thinks most apt to blush, as if for fear it should
be lost; and still more, when on the modest
cheek's showing the sensibility of the person so in
sulted, he breaks out into a loud laugh, that she
may not be able to recover herself.
Surely these men must think us women egregious
hypocrites : they must believe that we only affect
modesty, and in our hearts approve of their free
dom: for, can it be supposed, that such as call
themselves gentlemen, and who have had the edu
cation and opportunities that these two have had,
would give themselves liberties of speech on pur
pose to affront us ?
I hope I shall find the London gentlemen more
polite than these our neighbours of the fox-chace :
and yet hitherto I have seen no great cause to pre
fer them to the others. But about the court, and
at the fashionable public places, I expect wonders.
Pray Heaven, I may not be disappointed !
Thank Miss Orme, in my name, for the kind
wishes she sends me. Tell her, that her doubts of
my affection for her are not just ; and that I do
really and indeed love her. Nor should she want
the most explicit declarations of my love, were I
not more afraid of her in the character of a sister to
a truly respectable man, than doubtful of her in that
of a friend to me ; in which latter light, I even joy
to consider her. But she is a little naughty, tell
her, because she is always leading to one subject.
And yet, how can I be angry with her for it, if her
good opinion of me induces her to think it in my
power to make the brother happy, whom she so
dearly and deservedly loves ? 1 cannot but esteem
her for the part she takes. — And this it is that
makes me afraid of the artlessly-artful Miss Orme
32 THE HISTORY OF
It would look as if I thought my duty, and love,
and respects, were questionable, if in every letter
I. repeated them to my equally honoured and be
loved benefactors, friends, and favourers. Sup
pose them therefore always included in my sub
scription to you, my Lucy, when I tell you that I
am, and will be,
Your ever-affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER VII.
MR. SELBY TO MISS BYRON.
Selby-house, Jan. 30.
WELL ! and now there wants but a London lover
or two to enter upon the stage, and Vanity-Fair
will be proclaimed, and directly opened. Greville
every where magnifying you in order to justify
his flame for you : Fenwick exalting you above
all women : Orme adoring you, and by his hum
ble silence saying more than any of them : pro
posals besides from this man : letters from that !
What scenes of flattery and nonsense have I been
witness to for these past three years and half, that
young Mr. Elford began the dance ? Single ! Well
may you have remained single till this your twen
tieth year, when you have such choice of admirers,
that you don't know which to have. So in a mer
cer's shop, the tradesman has a fine time with you
women; when variety of his rich wares distract
you ; and fifty to one at last, but as well in men as
silks, you choose the worst, especially if the best is
offered at first, and refused. For women know
better how to be sorry, than to amend.
" It is true, say you, that we young women are
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 33
apt to be pleased with admiration" — Oh oh ! Are
you so ? And so I have gained one point with you
at last ; have I ?
" But I have always endeavoured" [And I, Har
riet, wish you had succeeded in your endeavours]
" to keep down any foolish pride" — Then you own
that pride you have ? — Another point gained ! Con
science, honost conscience, mil now-and-then make
you women speak out. But now I think of it, here
is vanity in the very humility. Well say you endea
voured, when female pride, like love, though hid
under a barrel, will flame out at the bung.
Well, said I, to your aunt Selby, to your grand
mamma, and to your cousin Lucy, when we all met
to sit in judgment upon your letters, now I hope
you'll never dispute with me more on this flagrant
love of admiration which I have so often observed
swallows up the hearts and souls of you all ; since
your Harriet is not exempt from it ; and since with
all your speciousness, with all her prudence, with
all her caution, she (taken with the qualm of con
science) owns it.
But, no, truly! All is right that you say: all is
right that you do! — Your very confessions are
brought as so many demonstrations of your diffi
dence, of your ingenuousness, and I cannot tell what.
Why, I must own, that no father ever loved his
daughter as I love my niece : but yet, girl, your
faults, your vanities, I do not love. It is my glory,
that I think myself able to judge of my friends as
they deserve ; not as being my friends. Why, the
best beloved of my heart, your aunt herself— you
know, I value her now more, now less, as she de
serves. But with all those I have named, and with
all your relations, indeed, their Harriet cannot be in
fault. And why ? Because you are related to them ;
and because they attribute to themselves some merit
34- THE HISTORY OF
from the relation they stand in to you. Supereroga-
torians all of them ( / will make words whenever I
please) with their attributions to you ; and because
you are of their sex, forsooth ; and because I accuse
you in a point in which you are all concerned, and
so make a common cause of it.
Here one exalts you for your good sense ; because
you have a knack, by help of a happy memory, of
making every thing you read, and every thing that
is told you, that you like, your own (your grand
father's precepts particularly) ; and because, I
think, you pass upon us as your own what you
have borrowed, if not stolen.
Another praises you for your good-nature — The
deuce is in it, if a girl who has crowds of admirers
after her, and a new lover wherever she shows her
bewitching face ; who is blest with health and spi
rits ; and has every-body for her friend, let her de
serve it or not ; can be z7/-natured. Who can such
a one have to quarrel with, trow ?
Another extols you for your cheerful wit, even
when displayed, bold girl as you are, upon your
uncle ; in which indeed you are upheld by the wife
of my bosom, whenever I take upon me to tell you
what ye .all, even the best of ye, are.
Yet sometimes they praise your modesty: and
W>?/ your modesty ? — Because you have a skin in a
manner transparent ; and because you can blush —
I was going to say, whenever you please.
At other times, they will find out, that you have
features equally delicate and regular ; when I think,
and I have examined them jointly and separately,
that all your takingness is owing to that op»n and
cheerful countenance, which gives them a gloss (or
What shall I call it?) that we men are apt to be pleas
ed with at first sight. A gloss that takes one, as it
were> by surprize. But give me the beauty that
SIR CHARLES GRANPISON. 35
grows upon us every time we see it ; that leaves
room for something to be found out to its advan-
-tage, as we are more and more acquainted with it.
" Your correcting uncle," you call me. And
so I will be. But what hope have I of your amend
ment, when every living soul, man, woman, and
child, that knows you, puffs you up ? There goes
Mr. Selby ! I have heard strangers say — And who
is Mr. Selby ? another stranger has asked — -Why,
Mr. Selby is uncle to the celebrated Miss Byron. —
Yet I, who have lived fifty years in this country,
should think I might be known on my own account,
and not as the uncle of a girl of twenty.
" Am I not a saucy creature ? " in another place
you ask. And you answer, " I know I am." I am
glad you do. Now may I call you so by your own
authority, I hope. But with your aunt, it is only
the effect of your agreeable vivacity. What abomi
nable partiality ! E'en do what you will, Harriet,
you'll never be in fault. I could almost wish — But
I won't tell you what I wish neither. But some
thing must betide you, that you little think of; de
pend upon that. All your days cannot be halcyon
ones. I would give a thousand pounds with all my
soul, to see you heartily love : ay, up to the very
ears, and unable to help yourself! You are not
thirty yet, child : and, indeed, you seem to think
the time of danger is not over. I am glad of your
consciousness •, my dear. Shall I tell Greville of your
doubts, and of your difficulties, Harriet? As to the
ten coming years, f mean ? And shall I tell him of
your prayer to pass them safely ? — But is not this
wish of yours, that ten years of bloom were over
past, and that you were arrived at the thirtieth year
of your age, a very singular one ? — A flight ! a
mere flight ! Ask ninety-nine of your sex out of an
hundred, if they would adopt it.
36 THE HISTORY OF
In another letter you ask Lucy, " If Mr. Greville
has not said, that flattery is dearer to a woman than
her food." Well niece, and what would you be at ?
Is it not so ?— I do aver, that Mr. Greville is a sen
sible man ; and makes good observations.
" Men's chief strength, you say, lies in the weak
ness of women." Why so it does. Where else
should it lie ? And this from their immeasurable
love of admiration and flattery, as here you seem
to acknowledge of your own accord, though it has
been so often perversely disputed with me. (jive
you women but rope enough, you'll do your own
business.
However, in many places you have pleased me :
but no-where more than when you recollect my
averment (without contradicting it; which is a
rarity !) " that a woman out of wedlock is half use
less to the end of her being." Good girl ! That
was an assertion of mine, and I will abide by it.
Lucy simpered when we came to this place, and
looked at me. She expected, I saw, my notice upon
it ; so did your aunt : but the confession was so
frank, that I was generous ; and only said, True as
the gospel.
I have written a long letter : yet have not said
one quarter of what I intended to say when I began.
You will allow that you have given your correct*
ing uncle, ample subject. But you fare something
the better for saying, " you unbespeak not your
monitor."
You own that you have some vanity. Be more
free in your acknowledgments of this nature (you
may; for are you not a woman?) and you'll fare
something the better for your ingenuousness ; and
the rather, as your acknowledgment will help me
up with your aunt and Lucy, and your grandmamma,
in an argument I will not give up.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 37
I have had fresh applications made to me — But
I will not say from whom : since we have agreed
long ago not to prescribe to so discreet a girl, as
in the main we all think you, in the articles of love
and marriage.
With all your faults I must love you. I am half
ashamed to say how much I miss you already. We
are all naturally cheerful folks : yet, I don't know
how it is; your absence has made a strange chasm at
our table. Let us hear from you every post : that
will be something. Your doting aunt tells the hours
on the day she expects a letter. Your grandmother
is at present with us, and in heart I am sure regrets
your absence : but as your tenderness to her has
kept you from going to London for so many years,
she thinks she ought to be easy. Her example goes
a great way with us all, you know ; and particularly
with
Your truly affectionate
(though correcting) uncle,
GEO. SELBY.
LETTER VIII.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Tuesday, January 31.
I AM already, my dear Lucy, quite contrary to my
own expectation, enabled to obey the third gene
ral injunction laid upon me at parting, by you, and
all my dear friends ; since a gentleman, not incon
siderable in his family or fortune, has already beheld
your Harriet with partiality.
Not to heighten your impatience by unnecessary
parade, his name is Fowler. He is a young gentle
man of an handsome independent fortune, and still
larger expectations from a Welch uncle now in town,
Sir Rowland Meredith, knighted in his sheriffalty,
VOL. I. F.
38 THE HISTORY OF
on occasion of an address which he brought up to
the king from his county.
Sir Rowland, it seems, requires from his nephew,
on pain of forfeiting his favour for ever, that he mar
ries not without his approbation: which, he de
clares, he never will give, except the woman be of a
good family; has a gentlewoman's fortune ; has had
the benefit of a religious education ; which he con
siders as the best security that can be given for her
good behaviour as a wife, and as a mother; so for
ward does the good knight look ! Her character
unsullied : acquainted with the theory of the do
mestic duties, and not ashamed, occasionally, to en
ter into the direction of the practice. Her fortune,
however, as his nephew will have a good one, he de
clares to be the least thing he stands upon ; only
that he would have her possessed of from six to ten
thousand pounds, that it may not appear to be a
match of mere love, and as if his nephew were
taken in, as he calls it, rather by the eyes than by
the understanding. Where a woman can have such
a fortune given her by her family, though no greater,
it will be an earnest, he says, that the family she is
of have worthy as he calls it, and want not to owe
obligations to that of the man she marries.
Something particular, something that has the
look of forecast and prudence, you'll say, in the old
knight.
O but I had like to have forgot ; his future niece
must also be handsome. He values himself, it
seems, upon the breed of his horses and dogs, and
makes polite comparisons between the more noble,
and the less noble animals.
Sir Rowland himself, as you will guess by his par
ticularity, is an old batchelor, and one who wants
to have a woman made on purpose for his nephew ;
and who positively insists upon qualities, before he
SIR CHARLES QRANDISON. 39
knows her, not one of which, perhaps, his future
niece will have.
Don't you remember Mr. Tolson, of Derbyshire ?
he was determined never to marry a widow. If he
did, it should be one who had a vast fortune, and
who never had a child. And he had still a more
particular exception ; and that was to a woman who
had red hair. He held his exceptions till he was
forty; and then being looked upon as a determined
batchelor. no family thought it worth their while to
make proposals to him ; no woman to throw out a
net for him (to express myself in the stile of the
gay Mr. Greville) ; and he at last fell in with, and
married, the laughing Mrs. Turner: a widow, who
had little or no fortune, had one child, a daughter,
living, and that child an absolute ideot ; and, to
complete the perverseness of his fate, her hair not
only red, but the most disagreeable of reds The
honest man was grown splenetic : disregarded by
every body, he was become disregardful of himself:
he hoped for a cure of his gloominess, from her
cheerful vein ; and seemed to think himself under
obligation to one who had taken notice of him,
when nobody else would. Batchelors' wives ! Maids'
children ! These old saws always mean something.
Mr. Fowler saw me at my cousin Reeves's the
first time. I cannot say he is disagreeable in his
person : but he seems to want the mind I would have
a man blessed with, to whom I am to vow love and
honour. I purpose, whenever I marry, to make a very
good and even a dutiful wife [must I not vow obe
dience? and shall I break my marriage-vow?]: I
would not, therefore, on any consideration, marry a
man, whose want of knowledge might make me
stagger in the performance of my duty to him ; and
who would perhaps command from caprice, or want
of understanding, what I should think unreasonable
E2
40 THE HISTORY OF
to be complied with. There is a pleasure and a
credit in yielding up even one's judgment in things
indifferent, to a man who is older and wiser than
one's self: but we are apt to doubt in one of a con
trary character, what in the other we should have
no doubt about : and doubt, you know, of a per
son's merit, is the first step to disrespect : and
what, but disobedience, which lets in every evil, is
the next?
I saw instantly that Mr. Fowler beheld me with a
distinguished regard. We women, you know [let
me for once be aforehand with my uncle] 'are very
quick in making discoveries of this nature. But
every -body at table saw it. He came again next
day, and besought Mr. Reeves to give him his inte
rest with me, without asking any questions about my
fortune; though he was even generously particular
as to his own. He might, since he has an unexcep
tionable one. Who is it in these cases that forgets
to set foremost the advantages by which he is dis
tinguished ? While fortune is the last thing talked
of by him who has little or none : and then Love,
love, love, is all his cry.
Mr. Reeves, who has a good opinion of Mr.
Fowler, in answer to his enquiries, told him, that he
believed I was disengaged in my affections : Mr.
Fowler rejoiced at that. That I had no ques
tions to ask ; but thftse of duty ; which indeed, he
said, was a stronger tie with me than interest. He
praised my temper, and my frankness of heart ; the
latter at the expence of my sex ; for which I least
thanked him, when he told me what he had said.
In short, he acquainted him with every thing that
was necessary, and more than was necessary for
him to know, of the favour of my family, and of
my good Mr. Deane, in referring all proposals of
this kind to myself; mingling the detail with com
mendations, which only could be excused by the
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 41
goodness of his own heart, and accounted for by his
partiality to his cousin.
Mr. Fowler expressed great apprehensions on my
cousin's talking of these references of my grand
mother, aunt, and Mr. Deane, to myself, on occa
sions of this nature ; which, he said, he presumed
had been too frequent for his hopes.
If you have any hope, Mr. Fowler, said Mr.
Reeves, it must be in your good character ; and that
much preferably to your clear estate and great ex
pectations. Although she takes no pride in the
number of her admirers, yet it is natural to suppose,
that it has made her more difficult ; and her diffi
culties are enhanced, in proportion to the generous
confidence which all her friends have in her discre
tion. And when I told him. proceeded Mr. Reeves,
that your fortune exceeded greatly what Sir Row
land required in a wife for him ; and that you had,
as well from inclination, as education, a serious turn :
Too much, too much, in one person, cried he out.
As to fortune, he wished you had not a shilling; and
if he could obtain your favour, he should be the
happiest man in the world.
O my good Mr. Reeves, said I, how have you
over-rated my merits ! Surely, you have not given
Mr. Fowler your interest ? If you have, should you
not, for his sake, have known something of my mind
before you had set me out thus, had I even deserved
your high opinion? — Mr. Fowler might have reason
to repent the double well-meant kindness of his
friend, if men in these days were used to break
their hearts for love.
It is the language I do and must talk of you in,
to every body, returned Mr. Reeves : is it not the
language that those most talk who know you best ?
Where the world is inclined to favour, replied I,
it is apt to over-rate, as much as it will under-rate
where it disfavours. In this case, you should not
E 3
42 ?H£ HISTORY of-
have proceeded so far as to engage a gentleman*s
hopes. What may be the end of all this, but to
make a compassionate nature, as mine has been
thought to be, if Mr. Fowler should be greatly
in earnest, uneasy to itself, in being obliged to
shew pity, where she cannot return love ?
What I have said, I have said, replied Mr.
Reeves. Pity is but one remove from love. Mrs.
Reeves (there she sits) was first brought to pity me ;
for never was man more madly in love than I ; and
then I thought myself sure of her. And so it
proved. I can tell you I am no enemy to Mr.
Fowler*
And so, my dear, Mr. Fowler seems to think he
has met with a woman who would make a fit wife for
him : but your Harriet, I doubt, has not in Mr.
Fowler met with a man whom she can think a fit
husband for her.
The very next morning, Sir Rowland himself —
But now, my Lucy, if I proceed to tell you all
the fine things that are said o/me, and to me, what
will my uncle Selby say ? Will he not attribute all
I shall repeat of this sort, to that pride, to that va-
nit)', to that fondness of admiration, which he, as
well as Mr. Greville, is continually charging upon
all our sex ?
Yet he expects that I shall give a minute account
of every thing that passes, and of every conversa
tion in which I have any part. How shall J do to
please him ? And yet I know I shall best please
him, if I give him room to find fault with me. But
then should he for my faults blame the whole sex ?
Is that just ?
You will tell me, I know, that if I give speeches
and conversations, I ought to give them justly:
that the humours and characters of persons cannot
be known unless I repeat ivhat they say, and their
manner of saying : that I must leave it to the
Sift CHARLES GRANDISON. 43
speakers and complimenters to answer for the like
ness of the pictures they draw : that I know best
my own heart, and whether I am puffed up by the
praises given me : that if I am, I shall discover it
by my superciliousness ; and be enough punished on
the discovery, by incurring, from those I love, de
served blame, if not contempt, instead of preserving
their wished-for esteem. — Let me add to all this,
that there is an author (I forget who) who says, " It
is lawful to repeat those things, though spoken in our
praise, that are necessary to be known, and cannot
otherwise be come at."
And now let me ask, Will this preamble do, once
for all ?
It will. And so says my aunt Selby. And so says
every one but my uncle. Well then I will proceed,
and repeat all that shall be said, and that as well to
my disadvantage as advantage; only resolving not to
be exalted with the one, and to do my endeavour to
amend by the other. And here, pray tell my uncle,
that I do not desire he will spare me ; since the
faults he shall find in his Harriet shall always put her
upon her guard. — Not, however, to conceal them
from his discerning eye ; but to amend them.
And now, having, as I said, once for all, prepared
you to guard against a surfeit of self-praise, though
delivered at second or third hand, I will go on with
my narrative — But hold— my paper reminds me that
I have written a monstrous letter — I will therefore,
with a new sheet, begin a new one. Only adding
to this, that I am, and ever will be,
Your affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.
JP.S. Well, but what shall I do now? — I have just
received my uncle's letter. And, after his charge
upon me of vanity and pride, will my parade, as
above, stand me in any stead ? — I must trust to
44 THE HISTORY OF
it. Only one word to my dear and ever-ho
noured uncle — Don't you, Sir, impute to me a
belief of the truth of those extravagant compli
ments made by men professing love to me ; and
I will not wish you to think me one bit the wiser,
the handsomer, the better, for them, than I was
before.
LETTER IX.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Thursday, February 2.
THE very next morning Sir Rowland himself paid
his respects to Mr. Reeves.
The knight, before he would open himself very
freely as to the business he came upon, desired that
he might have an opportunity to see me. I knew
nothing of him, nor of his business. We were just
going to breakfast. Miss Allestree, Miss Bramber,
and MissDolyns, ayoung lady of merit, were with us.
Just as we had taken our seats, Mr. Reeves intro
duced Sir Rowland, but let him not know which was
Miss Byron. He did nothing at first sitting down,
but peer in our faces by turns ; and fixing his eye
upon Miss Allestree, he jogged Mr. Reeves with his
elbow — Hay, Sir ? — audibly whispered he.
Mr. Reeves was silent. Sir Rowland, who is
short-sighted, then looked under his bent brows, at
Miss Bramber ; then at Miss Dolyns ; and then at
me — Hay, Sir ? whispered he again.
He sat out the first dish of tea with an impatience
equal, as it seemed, to his uncertainty. And at last
taking Mr. Reeves by one of his buttons, desired a
word with him. They withdrew together ; and the
knight, not quitting hold of Mr. Reeves's button,
Ad's-my-life, Sir, said he, I hope I am right. I love
my nephew as I love myself. I live but for him. He
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 45
ever was dutiful to me his uncle. If that be Miss
Byron who sits on the right-hand of your lady, with
the countenance of an angel, her eyes sparkling
with good humour, and blooming as a May-morning,
the business is done. I give my consent. Although I
heard not a word pass from her lips, I am sure she is
all intelligence. My boy shall have her. The other
young ladies are agreeable : but if this be the lady
my kinsman is in love with, he shall have her. How
will she outshine all our Caermarthen ladies ; and
yet we have charming girls in Caermarthen ! — Am
I, or am I not right, Mr. Reeves, as to my ne-
phew's^awe, as they call it ?
The lady you describe, Sir Rowland, is Miss
Byron.
And then Mr. Reeves, in his usual partial man
ner, let his heart overflow at his lips in my favour.
Thank God, thank God ! said the knight. Let
us return. Let us go in again. I will say some
thing to her to make her speak : but not a word to
dash her. I expect her voice to be music, if it be
as harmonious as the rest of her. By the softness
or harshness of her voice, let me tell you, Mr.
Reeves, I form a judgment of the heart, and soul,
and manners, of a lady. 'Tis a criterion, as they
call it, of my own ; and I am hardly ever mistaken.
Let us go in again, I pray ye.
They returned, and took their seats ; the knight
making an awkward apology for taking my cousin
out.
Sir Rowland, his forehead smoothed, and his face
shining, sat swelling, as big with meaning, yet not
knowing how to begin. Mrs. Reeves and Miss Al-
lestree were talking at the re-entrance of the gen
tlemen. Sir Rowland thought he must say some
thing, however distant from his main purpose.
Breaking silence therefore; You, ladies, seemed
46 THE HISTORY OF
to be deep in discourse when we came in. What
ever were your subject, I beg you will resume it.
They had finished, they assured him, what they
had to say.
Sir Rowland seemed still at a loss. He hemmed
three times ; and looked at me with particular kind
ness. Mr. Reeves then, in pity to his fulness, asked
him how long he proposed to stay in town ?
He had thought, he said, to have set out in a
week ; but something had happened, which he be
lieved could not be completed under a, fortnight.
Yet I want to be down, said he ; for I had just
finished, as I came up, the new-built house I design
to present to my nephew when he marries. I pre
tend, plain man as I am, to be a judge, both of taste
and elegance [Sir Rowland was now set a going].
All I wish for is to see him happily settled. Ah,
ladies ! that I need not go further than this table
for a wife for my boy ?
We all smiled, and looked upon each other.
You young ladies, proceeded he, have great ad
vantages in certain cases over us men ; and this
(which I little thought of till it came to be my own
case) whether we speak for our kindred or for our
selves. But will you, madam, to Mrs. Reeves, will
you, sir, to Mr. Reeves, answer my questions — as
to these ladies ? — I must have a niece among them.
My nephew, though I say it, is one whom any lady
may love : and as for fortune, let me alone to make
him, in addition to his own, all clear as the sun,
worthy of any woman's acceptance, though she were
a duchess.
We were all silent, and smiled upon one another.
What I would ask then, is, Which of the ladies
before me — Mercy ! I believe by their smiling, and
by their pretty looks, they are none of them en
gaged. I will begin with the young lady on your
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 47
right hand. She looks so lovely, so good-natured,
and so condescending ! — Mercy ! what an open fore
head ! — Hem ! — Forgive me, madam ; but I believe
you would not disdain to answer my question your
self. Are you, madam, are you absolutely and bond
jide^ disengaged ? or are you not ?
As this, Sir Rowland, answered I, is a question I
can best resolve, I frankly own, that I am disengaged.
Charming! charming! — Mercy! Why now what
a noble frankness in that answer ! — No jesting mat
ter ! You may smile, ladies. I hope, madam, you
say true : I hope I may rely upon it, that your affec
tions are not engaged.
You may, Sir Rowland. I do not love, even in
jest, to be guilty of an untruth.
Admirable ! — But let me tell you, madam, that I
hope you will not many days have this to say. Ad's-
my life ! sweet soul ! how I rejoice to see that charm
ing flush in the finest cheek in the world! But hea
ven forbid that I should dash so sweet a creature ! —
Well, but now there is no going further. Excuse
me, ladies ; I mean not a slight to any of you : but
now, you know, there is no going further : — And
will you, madam, permit me to introduce to you, as
a lover, as an humble servant, a very proper and
agreeable young man ? Let me introduce him : he
is my nephew. Your looks are all graciousness. Per
haps you have seen him : and if you are really dis
engaged, you can have no objection to him ; of that.
I am confident. And I am told, that you have no
body that either can or will controul you.
The more controulable for that very reason, Sir
Rowland.
Ad's-my-life, I like your answer. Why, madam,
you must be full as good as you look to be. I wish
I were a young man myself for your sake ! But tell
me, madam, will you permit a visit from my nephew
48 THE HISTORY OF
this afternoon? — Come, come, dear young lady, be
as gracious as you look to be. Fortune must do.
Had you not a shilling, I should rejoice in such a
niece ; and that is more than I ever said in my life
before. My nephew is a sober man, a modest man.
He has a good estate of his own : a clear 2000/. a
year. I will add to it in my life-time as much more.
Be all this good company witnesses for me. I am
no flincher. It is well known that the word of Sir
Rowland Meredith is as good as his bond at all
times. I love these open doings. I love to be
above-board. What signifies shilly-shally ? What
says the old proverb ?
Happy is the wooing
That is not long a doing.
But, Sir Rowland, said I, there are proverbs that
may be set against your proverb. You hint that I
have seen the gentleman: now I have never yet
seen the man whose addresses I could encourage.
O, I like you the better for that. None but the
giddy love at first sight. Ad's-my-life, you would
have been snapt up before now, young as you are,
could you easily have returned Jove for love. Why,
madam, you cannot be above sixteen ?
O, Sir Rowland, you are mistaken. Cheerfulness,
and a contented mind, make a difference to advan
tage of half a dozen years at any time. I am much
nearer twenty-one than nineteen, I assure you.
Nearer to twenty-one than nineteen, and yet so
freely tell your age without asking !
Miss Byron, Sir Rowland, said Mrs. Reeves, is
young enough at twenty, surely, to her own age.
True, madam; but at twenty, if not before, time
always stands still with women. A lady's age once
known, will be always remembered ; and that more
for spite than love. At twenty-eight or thirty, I be-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 49
lieve most ladies are willing to strike off half a dozen
years at least. — And yet, and yet, (smiling, and
looking arch) I have always said (pardon me, la
dies) that it is a sign, when women are so desirous
to conceal their age, that they think they shall be
good for nothing when in years. Ah, ladies ! shak
ing his head, and laughing, women don't think of
that. But how I admire you, madam, for your frank
ness ! Would to the Lord you were twenty -four ! —
I would have no woman marry under twenty-four :
and that, let me tell you, ladies, for the following
reasons — standing up, and putting the fore-finger
of his right-hand, extended with a flourish, upon
the thumb of his left.
O, Sir Rowland ! I doubt not but you can give
very good reasons. And I assure you, I intend not
to marry on the wrong side, as I call it, of twenty-
four.
Admirable, by mercy ! but that won't do neither.
The man lives not, young lady, who will stay your
time, if he can have you at his. I love your noble
frankness. Then such sweetness of countenance
(sitting down, and audibly whispering, and jogging
my cousin with his elbow) such dove-like eyes, dar
ing to tell all that is in the honest heart ! — I am a
physiognomist, madam (raising his voice to me.)
Ad's:my-life, you are a perfect paragon ! Say you
will encourage my boy, or you will be worse off; for
(standing up again) I will come and court you my
self. A good estate gives a man confidence; and,
when I set about it — Hum ! — (one hand stuck in
his side ; flourishing with the other) no woman yet,
I do assure you, — ever won my heart as you have
done.
O Sir Rowland, I thought you were too wise to
be swayed by first impressions : none but the giddy,
you know, love at first sight.
50 THE HISTORY OF
Admirable ! admirable indeed ! I knew you had
wit at will : and I am sure you have wisdom. Know
you, ladies, that ivit and wisdom are two different
things, and are very rarely seen together? Plain
man as I appear to be (looking on himself first on
one side, then on the other, and unbuttoning his coat
two buttons to let a gold braid appear upon his
waistcoat) I can tell ye, I have not lived all this
time for nothing. I am considered in Wales — Hern!
— But I will not praise myself. — Ad's-my-life ! how
do this young lady's perfections run me all into
tongue ! — But I see you all respect her as well as I ;
so I need not make apology to the rest of you
young ladies, for the distinction paid to her. I
wish I had as many nephews as there are ladies of
ye disengaged : by mercy, we would be all of kin.
Thank you, Sir Rowland, said each of the young
ladies, smiling, and diverted at his oddity.
But as to my observation, continued the knight,
that none but the giddy love at first sight ; there is
no general rule without exception, you know:
every man must love you at first sight. Do I not
love you myself? and yet never did I see you be
fore, nor any-body like you.
You know not what you do, Sir Rowland, to
raise thus the vanity of a poor girl. How may you
make conceit and pride run away with her, till she
become contemptible for both in the eye of every
person whose good opinion is worth cultivating?
Ad's-my-life, that's prettily said! But let me
tell you, that the she who can give this caution in the
midst of her praisings, can be in no danger of being
run away with by her vanity. Why, madam ! you
extort praises from me ! I never ran on so glibly
in praise of mortal woman before. You must cease
to look, to smile, to speak, I can tell you, if you
would have me cease to praise you !
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 51
Tis well you are not a young man, Sir Rowland,
said Miss Allestree. You seem to have the art of
engaging a woman's attention. You seem to know
how to turn her own artillery against her ; and, as
your sex generally do, to exalt her in courtship,,
that you may have it in your power to abase her
afterwards.
Why, madam, I must own, that we men live to
sixty, before we know how to deal with you ladies,
or with the world either ; and then we are not fit to
engage with the one, and are ready to quit the other.
An old head upon a young pair of shoulders would
make rare work among ye. But to the main point
(looking very kindly on me) : I ask no questions
about you, madam. Fortune is not to be mentioned.
I want you not to have any. Not that the lady is
the worse for having a fortune : and a man may
stand a chance for as good a wife among those who
have fortunes, as among those who have none. I
adore you for your frankness of heart. Be all of a
piece now, I beseech you. You are disengaged,
you say : Will you admit of a visit from my nephew ?
My boy may be bashful. True love is always mo
dest and diffident. You don't look as if you would
dislike a man for being modest. And I will come
along with him myself'.
And then the old knight looked important, as one
who, if he lent his head to his nephew's shoulders,
had no doubt of succeeding.
What, Sir Rowland ! admit of a visit from your
nephew, in order to engage him in a three years
courtship ? I have told you that I intend not to
marry till I am twenty-four.
Twenty-four, I must own, is the age of marriage
I should choose for a lady; and for the reasons
aforesaid.— But, now I think of it, I did not tell
you my reasons — These be they—
F 2
52 THE HISTORY OF
Down went his cup and saucer ; up went his left
hand ready spread, and his crooked finger of his
right hand, as ready to enumerate.
No doubt, Sir Rowland, you have very good rea
sons.
But, madam, you must hear them — And I shall
prove—
I am convinced, Sir Rowland, that twenty-four
is an age early enough.
But I shall prove, madam, that you are twenty,
or twenty- one —
Enough, enough, Sir Rowland : What need of
proof when one is convinced ?
But you know not, madam, what I was driving
at— -
Well but, Sir Rowland, said Miss Bramber, will
not the reasons you could give for the proper age
at twenty-four, make against your wishes in this case?
They will make against them, madam, in general
cases : but in this particular case they will make for
me : for the lady before me is —
Not in my opinion, perhaps, Sir Rowland, will
your reasons make for you : and then your excep
tion in my favour will signify nothing. And besides,
you must know, that I never can accept of a com
pliment that is made me at the expence of my sex.
Well then, madam, I hope you forbid me in fa
vour to my plea. You are loth to hear any-thing
for twenty-four against twenty- one, I hope?
That is another point, Sir Rowland.
Why, madam, you seem to be afraid of hearing
my reasons. No man living knows better than I,
how to behave in ladies' company. I believe I
should not be so little of a gentleman, as to offend
the nicest ear. No need indeed ! no need indeed !
looking archly ; ladies on certain subjects are very
quick.
SIR CHARLES GRAND1SON. 5£
That is to say, Sir Rowland, interrupted Mrs.
Reeves, that modesty is easily alarmed.
If any-thing is said, or implied, upon certain sub
jects, that you would not be thought to understand,
ladies know how to be ignorant.
And then he laughed.
Undoubtedly, Sir Rowland, said I, such company
as this need not be apprehensive, that a gentleman
like you, should say any-thing unsuitable to it. But
do you really think affected ignorance can be ever
graceful, or a proof of true delicacy ? Let me ra
ther say, That a woman of virtue would be wanting
to her character, if she had not courage enough to
express her resentment of any discourse that is
meant as an insult upon modesty.
Admirably said again ! But men will sometimes
forget, that there are ladies in company.
Very favourably put for the men, Sir Rowland.
But pardon me, if I own, that I should have a mean
opinion of a man, who allowed himself to talk even
to men what a woman might not hear. A pure
heart whether in man or woman, will be always, in
every company, on every occasion, pure.
Ad's-my-life,you have excellent notions, madam !
I wanted to hear you speak just now : and now you
make me, and every one else, silent — Twenty-one !
why what you say would shame sixty-one. You must
have kept excellent company all your life ! — Mercy !
if ever I heard the like from a lady so young ! —
What a glory do you reflect back upon all who had
any hand in your education ! Why was I not born
within the past thirty years ? I might then have had
some hopes of you myself! — And this brings me to
my former subject, of my nephew — But, Mr Reeves,
one word with you, Mr. Reeves. I beg your par
don, ladies : but the importance of the matter will
54? THE HISTORY OF
excuse me: and I must get out of town as soon as
I can — One word with you, Mr. Reeves.
The gentlemen withdrew together : for breakfast
by this time was over. And then the knight opened
all his heart to Mr. Reeves, and besought his inte
rest. He would afterwards have obtained an audi
ence, as he called, of me : but the three young la
dies having taken leave of us, and Mrs. Reeves and
I being retired to dress, I excused myself.
He then desired leave to attend me to-morrow
evening : but Mr. Reeves pleading engagements till
Monday evening, he besought him to indulge him
with his interest in that long gap of time, as he called
it, and for my being then in the way.
And thus, Lucy, have I given you an ample ac
count of what has passed with regard to this new
servant ; as gentlemen call themselves, in order to
become our masters.
'Tis now Friday morning. We are just setting
•out to dine with Lady Betty. If the day furnishes
me with any amusing materials for my next pacquet,
its agreeableness will be doubled to
Your ever-affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER X.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Friday night.
SOME amusement, my Lucy, the day has afforded :
indeed more than I could have wished. A large
pacquet, however, for Selby-house.
Lady Betty received us most politely. She had
company with her, to whom she introduced us, and
presented me in a very advantageous character.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 55
Shall I tell you how their first appearance struck
me, and what I have since heard and observed of
them?
The first I shall mention was Miss CANTILLON ;
very pretty ; but visibly proud, affected, and con
ceited.
The second Miss CLEMENTS ; plain ; but of a
fine understanding, improved by reading ; and who
having no personal advantages to be vain of, has, by
the cultivation of her mind, obtained a preference
in every one's opinion over the fair Cantillon.
The third was Miss BARNEVELT, a lady of mas
culine features, and whose mind belied not those
features ; for she has the character of being loud,
bold, free, even fierce when opposed ; and affects at
all times such airs of contempt of her own sex, that
One almost wonders at her condescending to wear
petticoats.
The gentlemen's names were WALDEN and SIN
GLETON ; the first, an Oxford scholar of family and
fortune ; but quaint and opinionated, despising every
one who has not had the benefit of an university
education.
Mr. Singleton is a harmless man ; who is, it seems,
the object of more ridicule, even down to his very
name, among all his acquaintance, than I think he
by any means ought, considering the apparent in-
offensiveness of the man, who did not give himself
his intellects ; and his constant good-humour, which
might intitle him to better quarter ; the rather too
as he has one point of knowledge, which those who
think themselves his superiors in understanding do
not always attain, the knowledge of himself; for he -
is humble, modest, ready to confess an inferiority
to every one : and as laughing at a jest is by some
taken for high applause, he is ever the first to be
stow that commendation on what others say ; though
56 THE HISTORY OF
it must be owned, he now and then mistakes for a
jest what is none: which, however, may be gene
rally more the fault of the speakers than of Mr.
Singleton ; since he takes his cue from their smiles,
especially when those are seconded by the laugh of
one of whom he has a good opinion.
Mr. Singleton is in possession of a good estate,
which makes amends for many defects ; he has a
turn, it is said, to the well-managing of it ; and no
body understands his own interest better than he ;
by which knowledge, he has opportunities to lay
obligations upon many of those, who behind his
back think themselves intitled by their supposed
superior sense to deride him : and he is ready enough
to oblige in this way: but it is always on such se
curities, that he has never given cause for spend
thrifts to laugh at him on that account.
It is thought that the friends of the fair Cantillon
would not be averse to an alliance with this gentle
man : while I, were I his sister, should rather wish,
that he had so much wisdom in his weakness, as to
devote himself to the worthier Pulcheria Clements
(Lady Betty's wish as well as mine) whose fortune,
though not despicable, and whose humbler views,
would make her think herself repaid, by his fortune,
the obligation she would lay him under by her ac
ceptance of him.
Nobody, it seems, thinks of a husband for Miss
Barnevelt. She is sneeringly spoken of rather as a
young fellow, than as a woman ; and who will one
day look out for a wife for herself. One reason in
deed, she every-where gives, for being satisfied with
being a woman ; which is, that she cannot be married
to a WOMAN.
An odd creature, my dear. But see what women
get by going out of character. Like the bats in the
fable, they are looked upon as mortals of a doubtful
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 57
species, hardly owned by either, and laughed at by
both.
This was the company, and all the company, be
sides us, that Lady Betty expected. But mutual
civilities had hardly passed, when Lady Betty, hav
ing been called out, returned, introducing, as a gen
tleman who would be acceptable to every one, Sir
HARGRAVE POLLEXFEN. He is, whispered she to
me, as he saluted the rest of the company, in a very
gallant manner, a young baronet of a very large
estate, the greatest part of which has lately come
to him by the death of a grandmother, and two
uncles, all very rich.
When he was presented to me, by name, and I to
him, I think myself very happy, said he, in being
admitted to the presence of a young lady so cele
brated for her graces of person and mind. Then,
addressing himself to Lady Betty, Much did I hear,
when I was at the last Northampton races, of Miss
Byron : but little did 1 expect to find report fall so
short of what I see.
Miss Cantillon bridled, played with her fan, and
looked as if she thought herself slighted : a little
scorn intermingled with the airs she gave her
self.
Miss Clements smiled, and looked pleased, as if
she enjoyed, good-naturedly, a compliment made
to one of the sex which she adorns by the goodness
of her heart.
Miss Barnevelt said, she had, from the moment I
first entered, beheld me with the eye of a lover.
And freely taking my hand, squeezed it. — Charm
ing creature ! said she, as if addressing a country
innocent, and perhaps expecting me to be covered
with blushes and confusion.
The baronet, excusing himself to Lady Betty,
assured her, that she must place this his bold intru-
58 THE HISTORY OF
sion to the account of Miss Byron ; he having been
told that she was to be there.
Whatever were his motive, Lady Betty said, he
did her favour ; and she was sure the whole com
pany would think themselves doubly obliged to Miss
Byron.
The student looked as if he thought himself
eclipsed by Sir Hargrave, and as if, in revenge, he
was putting his fine speeches into Latin, and trying
them by the rules of grammar ; a broken sentence
from a classic author bursting from his lips ; and, at
last, standing up, half on tip-toe (as if he wanted to
look down upon the baronet) he stuck one hand in
his side, and passed by him, casting a contemptuous
eye on his gaudy dress.
Mr. Singleton smiled, and looked as if delighted
with all he saw and heard. Once indeed he tried
to speak : his mouth actually opened, to give pas
sage to his words ; as sometimes seems to be his
way before the words are quite ready : but he sat
down satisfied with the effort.
It is true, people who do not make themselves
contemptible by affectation should not be despised.
Poor and rich, wise and unwise, we are all links of
the same great chain. And you must tell me, my
dear, if I, in endeavouring to give true descriptions
of the persons I see, incur the censure I pass on
others who despise any one for the defects they
cannot help.
Will you forgive me, my dear, if I make this
letter as long as my last ?
No, say.
Well then, I thank you for a freedom so consist
ent with our friendship : and conclude with assur
ances, ttat I am, and ever will be,
Most affectionately yours,
HARRIET BYRON.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOtf. 59
LETTER XI.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
IT was convenient to me, Lucy, to break off just
where I did in my last ; else I should not have been
so very self-denying as to suppose you had no cu
riosity to hear, what undoubtedly I wanted to tell.
Two girls talking over a new set of company, would
my uncle Selby say, are not apt to break off very
abruptly ; not she especially of the two, who has
found out a fair excuse to repeat every compliment
made to herself; and when perhaps there may be a
new admirer in the case.
May there so, my uncle ? And which of the gen
tlemen do you think the man? The baronet, I
suppose, you guess. — And so he is.
Well then, let me give you, Lucy, a sketch of
him. But consider ; I form my accounts from
what I have since been told, as well as from what
I observed at the time.
Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is handsome and genteel ;
pretty tall, about twenty-eight or thirty. His com
plexion is a little of the fairest for a man, and a little
of the palest. He has remarkably bold eyes ; rather
approaching to what we would call goggling ; and
he gives himself airs with them as if he wished to
have them thought rakish : perhaps as a recom
mendation, in his opinion, to the ladies. Lady
Betty, on his back being turned, praising his per
son, Miss Cantillon said, Sir Hargrave had the
finest eyes she ever saw in a man. They were
manly^ meaning ones.
He is very voluble in speech ; but seems to owe
his volubility more to his want of doubt, than to the
extraordinary merit of what he says. Yet he is
thought to have sense ; and if he could prevail upon
60 THE HISTORY OF
himself to hear more, and speak less, he would
better deserve the good opinion he thinks himself
sure of. But as he can say any-thing without hesi
tation, and excites a laugh by laughing himself at
all he is going to say, as well as at what he has just
said, he is thought infinitely agreeable by the gay,
and by those who wish to drown thought in merri
ment.
Sir Hargrave, it seems, has travelled: but he
must have carried abroad with him a great number
of follies, and a great deal of affectation, if he has
left any of them behind him.
But, with all his foibles, he is said to be a man of
enterprize and courage ; and young women, it
seems, must take care how they laugh with him :
for he makes ungenerous constructions to the dis
advantage of a woman whom he can bring to seem
pleased with his jests.
I will tell you hereafter, how I came to know
this, and even worse, of him.
The taste of the present age seems to be dress ;
no wonder, therefore, that such a man as Sir Har
grave aims to excel' in it. What can be misbe-
stowed by a man on his person, who values it more
than his mind ? But he would, in my opinion, bet
ter become his dress, if the pains he undoubtedly
takes before he ventures to come into public, were
less apparent : this I judge from his solicitude to
preserve all in exact order, when in company; for he
forgets not to pay his respects to himself at every
glass ; yet does it with a seeming consciousness, as
if he. would hide. a vanity too apparent to be con
cealed ; breaking from it, if he finds himself ob
served, with a half-careless yet seemingly dissatis
fied air, pretending to have discovered something
amiss in himself. This seldom fails to bring him a
compliment : of which he shows himself very sen-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 61
sible, by affectedly disclaiming the merit of it ; per
haps with this speech, bowing with his spread hand
on his breast, waving his head to and fro — By my
soul, Madam (or Sir) you do me too much honour.
Such a man is Sir Hargrave Pollexfen.
He placed himself next to the country girl ; and
laid himself out in fine speeches to her, running on
in such a manner, that I had not for some time an
opportunity to convince him, that I had been in
company of gay people before. He would have it
that I was a perfect beauty, and he supposed me
very young — very silly of course : and gave him
self such airs, as if he were sure of my admiration.
I viewed him steadily several times ; and my eye
once falling under his, as I was looking at him, I
dare say, he at that moment pitied the poor fond
heart, which he supposed was in tumults about him ;
when, at the very time, I was considering whether,
if I were obliged to have the one or the other, as a
punishment for some great fault I had committed,
my choice would fall on Mr. Singleton, or on him.
I mean, supposing the former were not a remarkably
obstinate man ; since obstinacy in a weak man, I
think, must be worse than tyranny in a man of
sense. — If indeed a man of sense can be a tyrant.
A summons to dinner relieved me from his more
particular addresses, and placed him at a distance
from me.
Sir Hargrave, the whole time of dinner, received
advantage from the supercilious looks and behaviour
of Mr. Walden ; who seemed, on every-thing the
baronet said (and he was seldom silent) half to de
spise him ; for he made at times so many different
mouths of contempt, that I thought it was impossi
ble for the same features to express them. I have
been making mouths in the glass for several mi
nutes, to try to recover some of Mr. Walden's, in
62 THE HISTORY OF
order to describe them to you, Lucy ; but I cannot
for my life so distort my face as to enable me to give
you a notion of one of them.
He might perhaps have been better justified in
some of his contempts, had it not been visible, that
J;he consequence which he took from the baronet,
he gave to himself; and yet was as censurable one
way, as Sir Hargrave was the other.
Mirth, however insipid, will occasion smiles;
though sometimes to the disadvantage of the mirth
ful. But gloom, severity, moroseness, will always
disgust, though in a Solomon. Mr. Walden had
not been taught that : and indeed it might seem a
little ungrateful [don't you think so, Lucy?] if wo
men failed to reward a man with their smiles, who
scrupled not to make himself a — monkey (shall I
say ?) to please them.
Never before did I see the difference between the
man of the town, and the man of the college, dis
played in a light so striking as in these two gentle
men in the conversation after dinner. The one
seemed resolved not to be pleased ; while the other
laid himself out to please every-body ; and that in a
manner so much at his own expence, as frequently
to bring into question his understanding. By a
second silly thing he banished the remembrance of
the jirst ; by a third the second ; and so on ; and
by continually laughing at his own absurdities, left
us at liberty to suppose that his folly was his choice ;
and that, had it not been to divert the company,
he would have made a better figure.
Mr. Walden, as was evident by his scornful brow,
by the contemptuous motions of his lip, and by
his whole face affectedly turned from the baronet,
grudged him the smile that sat upon every one's
countenance ; and for which, without distinguishing
whether it was a smile of approbation or not. he
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 63
looked as if he pitied us all, and as if he thought
himself cast into unequal company. Nay twice or
thrice he addressed himself, in preference to every
one else, to honest simpering Mr. Singleton : who,
for his part, as was evident, much better relished the
baronet's flippancies, than the dry significance of
the student. For, whenever Sir Hargrave spoke,
Mr. Singleton's mouth was open : but it was quite
otherwise with him, when Mr. Walden spoke, even
at the time that he paid him the distinction of ad
dressing himself to him, as if he were the principal
person in the company.
But one word, by the bye, Lucy — Don't you
think it is very happy for us foolish women, that the
generality of the lords of the creation are not much
wiser than ourselves ? Or, to express myself in other
words, That over-wisdom is as foolish a thing to the
full, as moderate folly! — But, hush! I have done.
—I know that at this place my uncle will be ready
to rise against me.
After dinner, Mr. Walden, not choosing to be
any longer so egregiously eclipsed by the man of
the town, put forth the scholar.
By the way, let me ask my uncle, if the word
scholar means not the learner, rather than the
learned ? If it originally means no more, I would
suppose that formerly the most learned men were
the most modest, contenting themselves with being
thought but learners; for as my revered first in
structor used to say, the more a man knows, the
more he will find he has to know.
Pray, Sir Hargrave, said Mr. Walden, may I ask
you — You had a thought just now, speaking of love
and beauty, which 1 know you must have from
Tibullus [and then he repeated the line in an heroic
accent ; and, pausing, looked round upon us women]
64 THE HISTORY OF
Which university had the honour of finishing your
•studies, Sir Hargrave ? I presume you were brought
up at one of them.
Not I, said the baronet : A man, surely, may read
Tibullus, and Virgil too, without being indebted to
either university for his learning.
No man, Sir Hargrave, in my humble opinion
[with a decisive air he spoke the word humble] can
be well-grounded in any branch of learning, who
has not been at one of our famous universities.
I never yet proposed, Mr. Walden, to qualify
myself for a degree. My chaplain is a very pretty
fellow. He understands Tibullus, I believe ' [im
moderately laughing, and by his eyes cast in turn
upon each person at table, bespeaking a general
smile] — And of Oxford, as you are.
And again he laughed : but his laugh was then
such a one as rather shewed ridicule than mirth : a
provoking laugh, such a one as Mr. Greville often
affects when he is in a disputing humour, in order
to dash an opponent out of countenance, by getting
the laugh, instead of the argument, on his side.
My uncle, you know, will have it sometimes,
that his girl has a satirical vein. I am afraid she
has — But this I will say for her : she means no ill-
nature : she loves every-body ; but not their faults :
as her uncle in his letter tells her. Nor wishes to
be spared for her own. Nor, very probably, is she,
if those who see her, write of her to their chosen
friends as she does to hers, of them.
Shall I tell you what I imagine each person of
the company 1 am writing about (writing in cha
racter) would say of me to their correspondents ? —
It would be digressing too much, or I would.
Mr. Walden in his heart, I dare say, was re
venged on the baronet. He gave him such a look,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 65
as would have grieved me the whole day, had it
been given me by one whom I valued.
Sir Hargrave had too much business for his eyes
with the ladies, in order to obtain their counte
nance, to trouble himself about the looks of the
men. And indeed he seemed to have as great a
contempt for Mr. Walden, as Mr. Walden had for
him.
But here I shall be too late for the post. Will
this stuff go down with you at Selby-house, in want
of better subjects ?
Every-thing from you, my Harriet —
Thank you ! thank you, all, my indulgent friends !
So it ever was. Trifles from those we love, are ac
ceptable. May I deserve your love.
Adieu, my Lucy ! — But tell my Nancy, that she
has delighted me bv her letter.
H. B.
LETTER XII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
WHAT is your opinion, my charming Miss Byron ?
said the baronet: May not a man of fortune, who
has not received his education and polish [he pro
nounced the word polish with an emphasis, and an
other laugh] at an university? make as good a figure
in social life, and as ardent a lover, as if he had ?
I would have been silent : but, gazing in my face,
he repeated, WThat say you to this, Miss Byron?
The world, Sir Hargrave, I have heard called an
university : but, is it not an obvious truth, that nei
ther a learned, nor what is called a fine education,
has any other value than as each tends to improve
the morals of men, and to make them wise and good?
66 THE HISTORY OF
The world an university! replied Mr. Wai den.
Why, truly, looking up to Sir Hargrave's face, and
then down to his feet, disdainfully, as if he would
measure him with his eyes, I cannot but say, twist
ing his head on one side, and with a drolling accent,
that the world produces very pretty scholars — for
the ladies —
The baronet took fire at being so contemptuously
measured by the eye of the student ; and I thought
it was not amiss, for fear of high words between
them, to put myself forward.
And are not women, Mr. Walden, resumed I,
one half in number, though not perhaps in value,
of the human species? — Would it not be pity, Sir,
if the knowledge that is to be obtained in the
lesser university should make a man despise what
is to be acquired in the greater, in which that
knowledge was principally intended to make him
useful ?
This diverted Sir Hargrave's anger : Well, Mr.
Walden, said he, exultingly rubbing his hands,
what say you to the young lady's observation ? By
my soul it is worth your notice. You may carry
it down with you to your university ; and the best
scholars there will not be the worse for attending
to it.
Mr. Walden seemed to collect himself, as if he
were inclined to consider me with more attention
than he had done before ; and waving his hand, as
if he would put by the baronet, as an adversary he
had done with, I am to thank you, madam, said he,
it seems, for your observation. And so the lesser
university —
I have great veneration, Mr. Walden, interrupted
I, for learning, and great honour for learned men—
But this is a subject —
That you must not get off from, young lady.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 67
I am sorry to hear you say so, Sir — But indeed
I must.
The company seemed pleased to see me so likely
to be drawn in ; and this encouraged Mr. Walden
to push his weak adversary.
Know you, madam, said he, any-thing of the
learned languages ?
No, indeed, Sir — Nor do I know which, particu
larly, you call so.
The Greek, the Latin, madam.
Who, I, a woman, know any-thing of Latin and
Greek ! I know but one lady who is mistress of
both ; and she finds herself so much an owl among
the birds, that she wants of all things to be thought
to have unlearned them.
Why, ladies, I cannot but say, that I should ra
ther choose to marry a woman whom I could teach
something, than one who would think herself quali
fied to teach me.
Is it a necessary consequence, Sir, said Miss Cle
ments, that knowledge, which makes a man shine,
should make a woman vain and pragmatical ? May
not two persons, having the same taste, improve
each other ? Was not this the case of Monsieur
and Madame Dacier ?
Flint and steel to each other, added Lady Betty.
Turkish policy, I doubt, in you men, proceeded
Miss Clements — No second brother near the throne,
That empire some think the safest which is founded
in ignorance.
We know, Miss Clements, replied Mr. Walden,
that you are a well-read lady. But I have nothing
to say to observations that are in every-body's
mouth — Pardon me, madam.
Indeed, Sir, said Mr. Reeves, I think Miss Cle
ments should not pardon you. There is, in my opi
nion, great force in what she said.
68 THE HISTORY OF
But I have a mind to talk with this fair lady, your
cousin, Mr. Reeves. She is the very woman that I
wish to hold an argument with, on the hints she
threw out.
Pardon me, Sir. But I cannot return the com
pliment. I cannot argue.
And yet, madam, I will not let you go off so easily.
You seem to be very happy in your elocution, and
to have some pretty notions, for so young a lady.
I cannot argue, Sir.
Dear Miss Byron, said Sir Hargrave, hear what
Mr. Walden has to say to you.
Every one made the same request. I was silent,
looked down, and played with my fan.
When Mr, Walden had liberty to say what he
pleased, he seemed at a loss himself, for words.
At last, I asked you, madam, I asked you (hesi
tatingly began he) whether you knew any-thing of
the learned languages? It has been whispered to me,
that you have had great advantages from a grand
father, of whose learning and politeness we have
heard much. He was a scholar. He was of Christ-
church, in our university, if I am not mistaken —
To my question you answered, That you knew not
particularly which were the languages that I called
the learned ones : and you have been pleased to
throw out hints in relation to the lesser and the
greater university ; by all which you certainly mean
something —
Pray, Mr. Walden, sa'id I—
And pray, Miss Byron — I am afraid of all
smatterers in learning. Those who know a little
—and ladies cannot know to the bottom — They
have not the happiness of an university edu
cation —
Nor is every man at the university, I presume,
JSir, a Mr. Walden.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 69
0 my Lucy ! I have since been told, that this
pragmatical man has very few admirers in the uni
versity to which, out of it, he is so fond of boast
ing a relation.
He took what I said for a compliment — Why, as
to that, madam — bowing — But this is a misfortune
to ladies, not a fault in them — But, as I was going
to say, Those who know little, are very seldom
sound, are very seldom orthodox, as we call it,
whether respecting religion or learning : and as it
seems you lost your grandfather too early to be
well-grounded in the latter (in the former Lady
Betty, who is my informant, says, you are a very
good young lady) I should be glad to put you right
if you happen to be a little out of the way.
1 thank you, Sir, bowing, and (simpleton !) still
playing with my fan. But, though Mr. Reeves
said nothing, he did not think me very politely
treated. Yet he wanted, he told me afterwards,
to have me drawn out.
He should not have served me so, I told him ;
especially among strangers, and men.
Now, madam, will you be pleased to inform me,
said Mr. Walden, whether you had any particular
meaning, when you answered, that you knew not
which I called the learned languages ? You must
know, that the Latin and Greek are of those so
called.
I beg, Mr. Walden, that 1 may not be thus singled
out — Mr. Reeves — Sir — you have had an university
education. Pray relieve your cousin.
Mr. Reeves smiled; bowed his head; but said
nothing.
You were pleased, madam, proceeded Mr. Wal
den, to mention one learned lady ; and said that
she looked upon herself as an owl among the
birds. — .5
70 THE HISTORY OF
And you, Sir, said, that you had rather (and I
believe most men are of your mind) have a woman
you could teach —
Than one who would suppose she could teach me
—I did so.
Well, Sir, and would you have me be guilty of an
ostentation that would bring me no credit, if I had
had some pains taken with me in my education? But
indeed, Sir, I know not any-thing of those you call
the learned languages. Nor do I take all learning
to consist in the knowledge of languages*.
All learning ! — Nor I, madam — But if you place
not learning in language, be so good as to tell us
what you do place it in ?
He nodded his head with an air, as if he had said,
This pretty Miss has got out of her depth: I believe
I shall have her now.
I would rather, Sir, said I, be a hearer than a
speaker ; and the one would better become me than
the other. I answered Sir Hargrave, because he
thought proper to apply to me.
And /, madam, apply to you likewise.
Then, Sir, I have been taught to think, that a
learned man and a linguist may very well be two
persons-]-.
Be pleased to proceed, madam. x
Languages, undoubtedly, Sir, are of use, to let
us into the knowledge for which so many of the
antients were famous — But —
Here I stopt. Every one's eyes were upon me.
I was a little out of countenance.
In what a situation, Lucy, are we women ? — If
we have some little genius, and have taken pains to
* This argument is resumed, Vol. VI. by a more compe
tent judge both of learning and languages than Mr. Walden.
+ In other words, that science or knowledge, and not
language merely, is learning.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 71
cultivate it, we must be thought guilty of affecta-.
tion, whether we appear desirous to conceal it, or
submit to have it called forth.
But, what, madam ? Pray proceed, eagerly said
Mr. Wai den — But, what, madam ?
But have not the moderns, Sir, if I must speak,
the same advantages which the antients had, and
some which they had not ? The first great genius's
of all had not human example, had not human
precepts —
Nor were the first genius's of all (with an empha
sis, replied Mr.Walden) so perfect, as the observa
tions of the genius's of after-times, which were built
upon their foundations, made them; and they others.
Learning, or knowledge, as you choose to call it, was
a progressive thing : and it became necessary to un
derstand the different languages in Which the sages
of antiquity wrote, in order to avail ourselves of
their learning.
Very right, Sir, I believe. You consider skill in
languages than as a vehicle to knowledge— Not, I
presume, as science itself.
I was sorry the baronet laughed ; because his
laughing made it more difficult for me to get off, as
I wanted to do.
Pray, Sir Hargrave, said Mr. Walden, let not
every thing that is said be laughed at. I am fond
of talking to this young lady ; and a conversation
upon this topic may tend as much to edification,
perhaps, as most of the subjects with which we have
been hitherto entertained.
Sir Hargrave took an empty glass, and with it hu
morously rapped his own knuckles, bowed, smiled,
and was silent; by that act of yielding, which had
gracefulness in it, gaining more honour to himself,
than Mr. Walden obtained by his rebuke of him,
however just.
72 THE HISTORY OF
t madam, if you please, said Mr. Walden
(and he put himself into a disputing attitude) a word
or two witn you, on your vehicle, and-so-forth.
Pray spare me, Sir : I am willing to sit down
quietly. I am unequal to this subject. I have
done.
But, said the baronet, you must not sit down
Juietly, madam : Mr. Walden has promised us edi-
cation; and we all attend the effect of his promise.
No, no, madam, said Mr. Walden, you must not
come off so easily. You have thrown out some ex
traordinary things for a lady, and especially for so
young a lady, From you we expect the opinions of
your worthy grandfather, as well as your own no
tions. He no doubt told you, or you have read,
that the competition set on foot between the learn
ing of the antients and moderns, has been the sub
ject of much debate among the learned in the latter
end of the last century.
Indeed, Sir, I know nothing of the matter. I am
not learned. My grandfather was chiefly intent to
make me an English, and, I may say, a Bible scho
lar. I was very young when I had the misfortune
to lose him. My whole endeavour has been since,
that the pains he took with me, should not be cast
away.
I have discovered you, madam, to be a Parthian
lady. You can fight flying, I see. You must not,
I tell you, come off so easily for what you have
thrown out. Let me ask you, Did you ever read
The Tale of a Tub?
Sir Hargrave laughed out, though evidently in
the wrong place.
How apt are laughing spirits, said Mr. Walden,
looking solemnly, to laugh, when perhaps they
ought — There he stopt — \to be laughed at, I suppose
he had in his head.] But. I will not, however, be
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 73
laughed out of my question. — Have you, madam,
read Swift's Tale of a Tub?— There is such a book,
Sir Hargrave ; looking with an air of contempt at
the baronet.
I know there is, Mr. Walden, replied the baronet,
and again laughed— Have you> madam? to me.
Pray let us know what Mr. Walden drives at.
I have, Sir.
Why then, madam, resumed Mr. Walden, you
no doubt read, bound up with it, The Battle of the
Books ; a very fine piece, written in favour of the
antients, and against the moderns ; and thence
must be acquainted with the famous dispute I men
tioned. And this will shew you, that the moderns
are but pygmies in science compared to the an-/j
tients. And, prayrshall not the knowledge which
enables us to understand and to digest the wisdom
of these immortal antients be accounted learning ?
— Pray, madam, nodding his head, answer me that.
0 how these pedants, whispered Sir Hargrave to
Mr. Reeves, strut in the livery and brass buttons of
the antients, and call their servility learning !
You are going beyond my capacity, Sir. I believe
what you say is very just : yet the antients may be
read, I suppose, and not understood. — But pray,
Sir, let the Parthian fly the field. I promise you
that she will not return to the charge. Escape, not
victory, is all she contends for.
All in good time, madam — But who, pray, learns
the language but with a view to understand the
author ?
No-body, I believe, Sir. But yet some who read
the antients, may fail of improving by them.
1 was going to say something further; but the
baronet, by his loud and laughing applause, dis
concerted me ; and I was silent.
And here I must break off, till I return from the
VOL. I. H
74- THE HISTORY OF
play : and then, or in the morning early, I will be
gin on another sheet.
LETTER XIII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Now, Lucy, will I resume the thread of an argu
ment, that you, perhaps, will not think worth re
membering ; yet, as I was called upon by every one
to proceed, I would not omit it, were it but to
have my uncle's opinion whether I was not too
pert, and too talkative ; for my conscience a little
reproaches me. You know I have told him, that I
will not unbespeak my monitor.
Mr. Walden told me, I seemed to think, that the
knowledge we gather from the great antients is
hardly worth the pains we take in acquiring the
languages in which they wrote.
Not so, Sir. I have great respect even for lin
guists : Do we not owe to them the translation of
the sacred books? — But methinks I could wish that
such a distinction should be made between language
and science, as should convince me, that that confu
sion of tongues, which was intended for a punish
ment of presumption in the early ages of the world,
should not be thought to give us our greatest glory
in these more enlightened times.
Well, madam, ladies must be treated as ladies.
But I shall have great pleasure, on my return to
Oxford, in being able to acquaint my learned friends,
that they must all turn fine gentlemen, and laughers
[[Mr. Reeves had smiled as well as the baronet]
and despise the great antients as men of straw, or
very shortly they will stand no chance in the ladies'
favour.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 75
Good Mr. Walden! Good Mr. Walden ! laughed
the baronet, shaking his embroidered sides, let me,
let me, beg your patience, while I tell you, that the
young gentlemen at both universities are already in
more danger of becoming fine gentlemen than Jim
scholars.
And then again he laughed ; and looking round
him, bespoke, in his usual way, a laugh from the
rest of the company.
Mr. Reeves, a little touched at the scholar's re
ference to him, in the word laughers, said, It were
to be wished, that, in all nurseries of learning, the
manners of youth were proposed as the principal end.
It is too known a truth, that the attention paid to
languages has too generally swallowed up all other
and more important considerations ; insomuch that
sound morals and good breeding themselves are
obliged to give way to that which is of little moment,
but as it promotes and inculcates those. And
learned men, I am persuaded, if they dared to speak
out, would not lay so much stress upon mere lan
guages as you seem 10 do, Mr. Walden.
Learning he re> replied Mr. Walden, a little pee
vishly, has not a fair tribunal to be tried at. As it is
said of the advantages of birth or degree, so it may
be said of learning ; No one despises it that has
pretensions to it. But, proceed, Miss Byron, if
you please.
Very true, I believe, Sir, said I : But, on the
other hand, may not those who have either, or both,
value themselves too much on that account ?
I knew once, said Miss Clements, an excellent
scholar, who thought, that too great a portion of
life was bestowed in the learning of languages ;
and that the works of many of the antients were
more to be admired for the stamp which antiquity
H2
76 THE HISTORY OF
has fixed upon them, and for the sake of their purity
in languages that cannot alter (and whose works
are therefore become the standard of those lan
guages) than for the lights obtained from them by
men of genius, in ages that we have reason to think
more enlightened, as well by new discoveries as by
revelation.
I am even tempted to ask, continued she, Whe
ther the reputation of learning is not oftener ac
quired by skill in those branches of science which
principally serve for amusement to inquisitive and
curious minds, than by that in the more useful sort.
Here Mr. Walden interrupted her ; and turning
to me, as to the weaker adversary; yet with an
air that had severity in it ; I could almost wish, said
he (and but almost, as you are a lady) that you*
madam, knew the works of the great antients in
their original languages.
Something, said Miss Clements, should be left
for men to excel in. I cannot but approve of Mr.
Walden's word almost.
She then whispered me ; Pray, Miss Byron, pro
ceed (for she saw me a little out of countenance
at Mr. Walden's severe air)— Strange, added she,
still whispering, that people who know least how to
argue, should be most eager to dispute. Thank
Heaven, all scholars are not like this.
A little encouraged ; Pray, Sir, said I, let me ask
one question — Whether you do not think that our
Milton, in his Paradise Lost, shews himself to be a
very learned man ? And yet that work is written
wholly in the language of his own country, as the
works of Homer and Virgil were in that of theirs: —
and they, I presume, will be allowed to be learned
men.
Milton, madam, let me tell you, is infinitely
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 77
obliged to the great antients ; and his very fre
quent allusions to them, and his knowledge of their
mythology, shew that he is.
His knowledge of their mythology, Sir! — His
own subject so greatly, so nobly, so divinely, above
that mythology! — I have been taught to think, by a
very learned man, that it was a condescension in
Milton to the taste of persons of more reading than
genius in the age in which he wrote, to introduce
so often as he does, his allusions to the pagan my
thology : and that he neither raised his sublime
subject, nor did credit to his vast genius, by it.
Mr. Addison, said Mr. Walden, is a writer ad
mired by the ladies. Mr. Addison, madam, as you
will find in your Spectators [jsneeringly he spoke
this] gives but the second place to Milton, on com
paring some passages of his with some of Homer.
If Mr. Addison, Sir, has not the honour of being
admired by the gentlemen, as well as by the ladies,
I dare say Mr. Walden will not allow, that his au
thority should decide the point in question: and
et, as I remember, he greatly extols Milton. But
am going out of my depth — Only permit me to
say one thing more — If Homer is to be preferred to
Milton, he must be the sublimest of writers ; and
Mr. Pope, admirable as his translation of the Iliad
is said to be, cannot have done him justice.
You seem, madam, to be a very deep English
scholar. But say you this from your own observa
tion, or from that of any other ?
I readily own, that my lights are borrowed, re
plied I. I owe the observation to my godfather
Mr. Deane. He is a scholar ; but as great an ad
mirer of Milton as of any of the antients. A gen
tleman, his particular friend, who was as great an ad
mirer of Homer, undertook from Mr. Pope's trans
lation of the Iliad, to produce passages that in sub-
H 3
I
78 THE HISTORY OF
limity exceeded any in the Paradise Lost. The
gentlemen met at Mr. Deane's house, where I then
was. They allowed me to be present ; and this was
the issue: the gentlemen went away convinced,
that the English poet as much excelled the Grecian
in the grandeur of his sentiments, as his subject,
founded on the Christian system, surpasses the
pagan.
The debate, I have the vanity to think, said Mr.
Walden, had / been a party in it, would have taken
another turn ; for I do insist upon it, that without
the knowledge of the learned languages, a man
cannot understand his own.
I opposed Shakespeare to this assertion : but
wished on this occasion, that I had not been a party
in this debate ; for the baronet was even noisy in his
applauses of what I said; and the applause of empty
minds always gives one suspicion of having incurred
it by one's over-forwardness.
He drowned the voice of Mr. Walden, who two
or three times was earnest to speak ; but not find
ing himself heard, drew up his mouth, as if to a
contemptuous whistle, shrugged his shoulders, and
sat collected in his own conscious worthiness : his
eyes, however, were often cast upon the pictures
that hung round the room, as much better objects
than the living ones before him.
But what extremely disconcerted me, was a free
dom of Miss Barnevelt's ; taken upon what I last
said, and upon Mr. Walden's hesitation, and Sir
Hargrave's applauses: she professed that I was able
to bring her oivn sex into reputation with her. Wis-
receives a double grace. And then clasping one of
her mannish arms round me, she kissed my cheek.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 79
I was surprised, and offended ; and with the more
reason, as Sir Hargrave, rising from his seat, de
clared, that since merit was to be approved in that
manner, he thought himself obliged to follow so
good an example.
I stood up, and said, Surely, Sir, my compliance
with the request of the company, too much I fear
at my own expence, calls rather for civility than
freedom, from a gentleman. I beg, Sir Hargrave—
There I stopt; and I am sure looked greatly in
earnest.
He stood suspended till I had done speaking ; and
then, bowing, sat down again ; but, as Mr. Reeves
told me afterwards, he whispered a great oath in his
ear, and declared, that he beheld with transport his
future wife ; and cursed himself if he would ever
have another; vowing, in the same whisper, that
were a thousand men to stand in his way, he would
not scruple any means to remove them.
Miss Barnevelt only laughed at the freedom she
had taken with me. She is a loud and fearless
laugher. She hardly knows how to smile: for as
soon as any thing catches her fancy, her voice im
mediately bursts her lips, and widens her mouth to
its full extent. Forgive me, Lucy. I believe I
am spiteful.
Lady Betty and Miss Clements, in low voices,
praised me for my presence of mind, as they called
it, in checking Sir Hargrave's forwardness.
Just here, Lucy, I laid down my pen, and stept
to the glass, to see whether I could not please my
self with a wise frown or two ; at least with a solem
nity of countenance, that, occasionally, I might
dash with it my childishness of look ; which cer
tainly encouraged this freedom of Miss Barnevelt.
But I could not please myself. My muscles have
80 THE HISTORY OF
never been used to any-thing but smiling '. so fa-
voured, so beloved, by every one of my friends ; a
heart so grateful for all their favours — How can I
learn now to frown ; or even long to look grave ?
All this time the scholar sat uneasily-careless*
In the mean time Mr. Reeves, having sent for
from his study (his house being near) Bishop
Burnet's History of his own Times, said he would,
by way of moderatorship in the present debate, read
them a passage, to which he believed all parties
would subscribe : and then read what I will tran
scribe for you from the conclusion to that perform
ance :
* I have often thought it a great error to waste
young gentlemen's years so long in learning Latin,
by so tedious a grammar. I know those who are
bred to the profession in literature, must have the
Latin correctly ; and for that the rules of gram
mar are necessary : but these rules are not at all
requisite to those, who need only so much Latin, as
thoroughly to understand and delight in the Roman
authors and poets.
* But suppose a youth had, either for want of me
mory, or of application, an incurable aversion to
Latin, his education is not for that to be despaired
of: there is much noble knowledge to be had in
the English and French languages: geography,
history, chiefly that of our own country, the know
ledge of nature, and the more practical parts of
the mathematics (if he has not a genius for the
demonstrative) may make a gentleman very know
ing, though he has not a word of Latin' [And why, I
would fain know, said Mr. Reeves, not a gentlewo
man ?]. ' There is a fineness of thought, and a no
bleness of expression, indeed, in the Latin authors'
[This makes for your argument, Mr. Walden] ' that
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 81
will make them the entertainment of a man's whole
life, if he once understands and reads them with de
light' [Very well, said Mr. Walden !] But if this can
not be attained to, I would not have it reckoned
that the education of an ill Latin scholar is to be
given over.'
Thus far the bishop.
We all know, proceeded Mr. Reeves, how well
Mr. Locke has treated this subject. And he is
so far from discouraging the fair sex from learning
languages, that he gives us a method in his Trea
tise of Education, by which a mother may not only
learn Latin herself, but be able to teach it to her
son. Be not, therefore, ladies, ashamed either of
your talents or acquirements. Only take care, you
give not up any knowledge that is more laudable
in your sex, and more useful, for learning ; and
then I am sure you will, you must, be the more
agreeable, the more suitable companions for it, to
men of sense. Nor let any man have so narrow a
mind as to be apprehensive for his own prerogative,
from a learned woman. A woman who does not
behave the better the more she knows, will make her
husband uneasy, and will think as well of herself,
were she utterly illiterate ; nor would any argument
convince her of her duty. Do not men marry with
their eyes open ? And cannot they court whom
they please ? A conceited, a vain mind in a wo
man cannot be hidden. Upon the whole, I think
it may be fairly concluded, that the more a woman
knows, as well as a man, the wiser she will generally
be ; and the more regard she will have for a man of
sense and learning.
Here ended Mr. Reeves.
Mr. Walden was silent; yet shrugged up his
shoulders, and seemed unsatisfied.
The conversation then took a more general turn,
82 THE HISTORY OF
in which every one bore a part. Plays, fashion,
dress, and the public entertainments, were the sub
jects.
Miss Cantillon, who had till now sat a little un
easy, seemed resolved to make up for her silence :
but did not shine at all where she thought herself
most intitled to make a figure.
But Miss Clements really shone. Yet in the eye
of some people, what advantages has folly in a pretty
woman, over even wisdom in a plain one ? Sir Har-
grave was much more struck with the pert things
spoken without fear or wit, by Miss Cantillon, than
with the just observations that fell from the lips of
Miss Clements.
Mr. Walden made no great figure on these
fashionable subjects ; no, not on that of the plays:
for he would needs force into conversation, with a
preference to our Shakespeare, his Sophocles, his
Euripides, his Terence ; of the merits of whose per
formances, how great soever, no one present but
Mr. Reeves and himself could judge, except by
translations.
Sir Hargrave spoke well on the subject of the
reigning fashions, and on modern dress, so much the
foible of the present age.
Lady Betty and Mrs. Reeves spoke very pro
perly of the decency of dress, and propriety of
fashions, as well as of public entertainments.
Miss Clements put in here also with advantage to
herself.
Nor would Mr. Walden be excluded this topic.
But, as the observations he made on it, went no
deeper than what it was presumed he might have
had at second-hand, he made a worse figure here,
than he did on his more favourite subject. He was,
however, heard, till he was for bringing in his Spar
tan jacket (I forget what he called it) descending
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 83
only to the knees of the women, in place of hoops ;
and the Roman toga for the men.
Miss Barnevelt broke in upon the scholar ; but
by way of approbation of what he said ; and went
on with subjects of heroism, without permitting
him to rally and proceed, as he seemed inclined
to do.
After praising what he said of the Spartan and
Roman dresses, she fell to enumerating her heroes,
both antient and modern. Achilles, the savage
Achilles, charmed her. Hector, however, was a
good clever man : yet she could not bear to think
of his being so mean as to intreat a favour, though
of her heroic Achilles. He deserved for it, she said,
to have his corpse dragged round the Trojan walls
at the wheels of the victor's chariot. Alexander the
Great was her dear creature ; and Julius Caesar was
a very pretty fellow.
These were Miss Barnevelt's antient heroes.
Among the moderns, the great Scanderbeg, our
Henry V. Henry IV. of France, Charles XII. of
Sweden, and the great Czar Peter, who my grand
father used to say was worth them all, were her fa
vourites.
All this while honest Mr. Singleton had a smile
at the service of every speaker, and a loud laugh
always ready at the baronet's.
Sir Hargrave seemed not a little pleased with the
honest man's complaisance ; and always directed
himself to him, when he was disposed to be merry.
Laughing, you know, my dear, is almost as
catching as gaping, be the subject ever so silly ; and
more than once he shewed by his eyes, that he
could have devoured Miss Cantillon for generally
adding her affected Te-he (twisting and bridling be
hind her fan) to his louder Hah, hah, hah, hah.
84? THE HISTORY OF
What a length have I run ! How does this narra
tive letter-writing, if one is to enter into minute
and characteristic descriptions and conversations,
draw one on ! — I will leave off for the present : yet
have not quite dismissed the company (though I
have done with the argument) that I thought to
have parted with before I concluded this letter.
But 1 know I shall please my uncle in the livelier
parts of it, by the handle they will give him against
his poor niece. My grandmother, and aunt Selby,
will be pleased, and so will you, my Lucy, with all I
write, for the writer's sake : such is their and your
partial love to
Their and your ever-grateful
HARRIET.
LETTER XIV.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
BY the time tea was ready, Lady Betty whisper-
ingly congratulated me on having made so consider
able a conquest, as she was sure I had, by Sir Har-
grave's looks.
She took notice also of a gallant expression of
his, uttered, as she would have it, with an earnest
ness that gave it a meaning beyond a common com
pliment. My cousin Reeves had asked Miss Cle
ments if she could commend to me an honest, mo
dest man-servant ? 7, said Sir Hargrave, can. I my
self shall be proud to wear Miss Byron's livery ;
and that for life.
Miss Cantillon, who was within hearing of this>
and had seemed to be highly taken with the baro
net, could hardly let her eyes be civil to me ; and
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 85
yet her really pretty mouth, occasionally, worked it
self into forced smiles, and an affectation of com
plaisance.
Sir Hargrave was extremely obsequious to me
all the tea-time ; and seemed in earnest a little un
easy in himself: and after tea he took my cousin
Reeves into the next room ; and there made your
Harriet the subject of a serious conversation ; and
desired his interest with me.
He prefaced his declaration to Mr. Reeves, with
assuring him, that he had sought for an opportunity
more than once, to be admitted into my company,
when he was last at Northampton ; and that he had
not intruded himself then into this company, had he
not heard I was to be there.
He made protestations of his honourable views;
which looked as if he thought they might be doubt
ed, if he had not given such assurances-. A tacit
implication of an imagined superiority, as well in
consequence as fortune.
Mr. Reeves told him, It was a rule which all my
relations had set themselves, not to interfere with
my choice, let it be placed on whom it would.
Sir Hargrave called himself a happy man upon
this intelligence.
He afterwards, on his return to company, found
an opportunity, as Mrs. Reeves and I were talking
at the further part of the room, in very vehement
terms, to declare himself to me an admirer of per
fections of his own creation ; for he volubly enumer
ated many ; and begged my permission to pay his
respects to me at Mr. Reeves's.
Mr. Reeves, Sir Hargrave, said I, will receive
what visits he pleases in his own house. I have no
permission to give.
He bowed, and made me a very high compliment,
taking what I said for a permission.
86 THE HISTORY OF
What, Lucy, cari a woman do with these self-
flatterers ?
Mr. Walden took his leave : Sir Hargrave his :
he wanted, I saw, to speak to me, at his departure ;
but I gave him no opportunity.
Mr. Singleton seemed also inclined to go, but
knew not how ; and having lost the benefit of their
example by his irresolution, sat down.
Lady Betty then repeated her congratulations.
How many ladies, said she, and fine ladies too,
have sighed in secret for Sir Hargrave. You will
have the glory, Miss Byron, of fixing the wavering
heart of a man who has done, and is capable of
doing, a great deal of mischief.
The ladies, madam, said I, who can sigh in secret
for such a man as Sir Hargrave, must either deserve
a great deal of pity, or none at all.
Sir Hargrave, said Miss Cantillon, is a very fine
gentleman ; and so looked upon, I assure you : and
he has a noble estate.
It is very happy, replied I, that we do not all of
us like the same person. I mean not to disparage
Sir Hargrave ; but I have compassion for the ladies
who sigh for him in secret. One woman only can
be his wife ; and perhaps she will not be one of
those who sigh for him ; especially were he to know
that she does.
Perhaps not, replied Miss Cantillon : but I do
assure you, that / am not one of those who sigh for
Sir Hargrave.
The ladies smiled. *
I am glad of it, madam, said I. Every woman
should have her heart in her own keeping, till she
can find a worthy man to bestow it upon.
Miss Barnevelt took a tilt in heroics.
Well, ladies, said she, you may talk of love and
love as much as you please ; but it is my glory, that
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 87
I never knew what love was. I, for my part, like
a brave man, a gallant man : one in whose loud
praise fame has cracked half a dozen trumpets.
But as to your milksops, your dough-baked lovers,
who stay at home and strut among the women,
when glory is to be gained in the martial field ; I de
spise them with all my heart. I have often wished
that the foolish heads of such fellows as these were
cut off in time of war, and sent over to the heroes
to fill their cannon with, when they batter in breach,
by way of saving ball.
I am afraid, said Lady Betty, humouring this ro
mantic speech, that if the heads of such persons
were as soft as we are apt sometimes to think them,
they would be of as little service abroad as they are
at home.
O, madam, replied Miss Barnevelt, there is a
good deal of lead in the heads of these fellows. But
were their brains, said the shocking creature, if any
they have, made to fly about the ears of an enemy,
they would serve both to blind and terrify him.
Even Mr. Singleton was affected with this horrid
speech : for he clapt both his hands to his head, as
if he were afraid for his brains.
Lady Betty was very urgent with us to pass the
evening with her ; but we excused ourselves ; and
when we were in the coach, Mr. Reeves told me,
that I should find the baronet a very troublesome
and resolute lover, if I did not give him counte
nance.
And so, Sir, said I, you would have me do, as I
have heard many a good woman has done, marry a
man, in order to get rid of his importunity.
And a certain cure too, let me tell you, cousin,
said he, smiling.
We found at home, waiting for Mr. Reeves's re-
i 2
88 THE HISTORY OF
turn, Sir John Allestree : a worthy sensible man, of
plain and unaffected manners, upwards of fifty.
Mr. Reeves mentioning to him our past enter
tainment and company, Sir John gave us such an
account of Sir Hargrave, as helped me not only in
the character I have given of him, but let me know-
that he is a very dangerous and enterprising man.
He says, that laughing and light as he is in com
pany, he is malicious, ill-natured, and designing ;
and sticks at nothing to carry a point on which he
has once set his heart. He has ruined, Sir John
says, three young creatures already under vows of
marriage.
Sir John spoke of him as a managing man, as
to his fortune : he said, That though he would, at
times, be lavish in the pursuit of his pleasures ; yet
that he had some narrownesses which made him
despised, and that most by those for whose regard
a good man would principally wish ; his neighbours
and tenants.
Could you have thought, my Lucy, that this laugh
ing, fine-dressing man, could have been a man of
malice ; of resentment ; of enterprize ; a cruel man ?
Yet Sir John told two very bad stories of him, be
sides what I have mentioned, which prove him to be
all I have said.
But I had no need of these stones to determine
me against receiving his addresses. What I saw of
him was sufficient ; though Sir John made no man
ner of doubt (on being told by Mr. Reeves, in
confidence, of his application to him for leave to
visit me) that he was quite in earnest ; and making
me a compliment, added, that he knew Sir Har
grave was inclined to marry ; and the more, as one
half of his estate, on failure of issue male, would
go at his death to a distant relation whom he hated ;
but for no other reason than for admonishing
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. S9
him, when a school-boy, on his low and mischiev
ous pranks.
His estate, Sir John told my cousin, is full as
considerable as reported. And Mr. Reeves, after
Sir John went away, said, What a glory will it be
to you, cousin Byron, to reform such a man, and
make his great fortune a blessing to multitudes ; as
I am sure would be your endeavour to do, were you
LadyPollexfen!
But, my Lucy, were Sir Hargrave king of one
half of the globe, I would not go to the altar with
him.
But if he be a very troublesome man, what shall
I say to him ? I can deal pretty well with those,
who will be kept at arms length ; but I own, I should
be very much perplexed with resolute wretches.
The civility I think myself obliged to pay every one
who professes a regard for me, might subject me to
inconveniencies with violent spirits, which, protected
as I have been by my uncle Selby, and my good
Mr. Deane, I never yet have known. O my Lucy,
to what evils, but for that protection, might not I,
a sole, an independent young woman, have been
exposed ? Since men, many men, are to be looked
upon as savages, as wild beasts of the desert ; and a
single and independent woman they hunt after as
their proper prey.
To have done with Sir Hargrave for the present,
and I wish I may be able to say for ever ; Early
in the morning, a billet was brought from him to
Mr. Reeves, excusing himself from paying him a
visit that morning (as he had intended) by reason
of the sudden and desperate illness of a relation,
whose seat was near Reading, with whom he had
large concerns, and who was desirous to see him
before he died. As it was impossible that he could
return under three days, which, he said, would
i 3
90 THE HISTORY OF
appear as three years to him, and he was obliged to
set out that moment ; he could not dispense with
himself for putting in his claim, as he called it, to
Miss Byron's favour, and confirming his declaration
of yesterday. In very high strains, he professed
himself her admirer ; and begged Mr. and Mrs.
Reeves's interest with her. One felicity, he said,
he hoped for from his absence, which was, that as
Miss Byron, and Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, would have
time to consider of his offers ; he presumed to hope
he should not be subjected to a repulse.
And now, my Lucy, you have before you as
good an account as I can give you of my two new
lovers.
How I shall manage with them, I know not : but
I begin to think that those young women are hap
piest, whose friends take all the trouble of this sort
upon them; only consulting their daughters' inclina
tions as preliminaries are adjusting.
My friends indeed pay a high compliment to my
discretion, when they so generously allow me to
judge for myself: and we young women are fond of
being our own mistresses : but I must say, that to
me this compliment has been, and is, a painful one ;
for two reasons ; That I cannot but consider their
goodness as a task upon me, which requires my ut
most circumspection, as well as gratitude ; and that
they have shewn more generosity in dispensing with
their authority, than 1 have done whenever 1 have
acted so as to appear, though but to appear, to
accept of the dispensation : let me add besides, that
now, when I find myself likely to be addressed to
by mere strangers, by men who grew not into my
knowledge insensibly, as our neighbours Greville,
Fenwick, and Orme, did, I cannot but think it has
the appearance of confidence, to stand out to receive,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 91
as a creature uncontroulable, the first motions to an
address of this awful nature. Awful indeed might
it be called, were one's heart to incline towards a
particular person.
Allow me then for the future, my revered grand
mamma, and you, my beloved and equally honoured
uncle and aunt Selby, allow me to refer myself to
you, if any person offers to whom I may happen to
have no strong objections. . As to Mr. Fowler, and
the baronet, I must noiio do as well as I can with
them. It is much easier for a young woman to say
MO, than yes. But for the time to come I will not
have the assurance to act for myself. I know your
partiality for your Harriet too well, to doubt the
merit of your recommendation.
As Mr. and Mrs. Reeves require me to shew
them what I write, they are fond of indulging me
in the employment : you will therefore be the less
surprised that 1 write so much in so little a time,
Miss Byron is in her closet ; Miss Byron is writing;
is an excuse sufficient, they seem to think, to every
body, because they allow it to be one to them : but
besides, I know they believe they joblige you all by
the opportunity they so kindly give me of shewing
my duty and love where so justly due.
I am, however, surprised at casting my eye back.
Two sheets ! and such a quantity before ! — Uncon
scionable, say ; and let me, echo-like, repeat,
Unconscionable
HARRIET BYRON.
Sunday night.
Letters from Northamptonshire, by Farmer Jen
kins ! I kiss the seals. What agreeable things,
now, has my Lucy to say to her Harriet ? Dis^
agreeable ones she cannot write, if all my
beloved friends are well.
92 THE HISTORY
LETTER XV.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION*
Monday, Febrddfy 6.
AND so my uncle Selby, you tell me, is making
observations in writing, on my letters ; and waits
for nothing more to begin with me, than my con
clusion of the conversations that offered at Lady
Betty's.
And is it expected that I should go on furnishing
weapons against myself?
It is.
Well ; with all my heart. As long as I can con
tribute to his amusement ; as long as my grand
mamma is pleased and diverted with what I write,
as well as with his pleasantries on her girl ; I will
proceed.
Well, but will you not, my Harriet, methinks you
ask, write with less openness, with more reserve, in
apprehension of the rod which you know hangs
over your head ?
Indeed I will not. It is my glory, that I have
not a thought in my heart which I would conceal
from any one whom it imported to know it, and who
would be gratified by the revealing of it. And yet
I am a little chagrined at the wager which you tell
me my uncle has actually laid with my grand
mamma, that I shall not return from London with
a sound heart.
And does he teaze you, my Lucy, on this subject,
with reminding you of your young partiality for
Captain Duncan, in order to make good his asser
tion of the susceptibility of us all ?
Why so let him. And why should you deny,
that you tvere susceptible of a natural passion?
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 93
You must not be prudish, Lucy. If you are not>
all his raillery will lose its force.
What better assurance can I give to my uncle,
and to all my friends, that if I were caught, I
would own it, than by advising you not to be
ashamed to confess a sensibility which is no dis
grace, when duty and prudence are our guides,
and the object worthy ?
Your man indeed was not worthy, as it proved ;
but he was a very specious creature ; and you knew
not his bad character, when you suffered liking to
grow into love.
But when the love- fever was at the height, did
you make any-body uneasy with your passion ? Did
you run to the woods and groves to record it on the
barks of trees ? — No ! — You sighed in silence in
deed : but it was but for a little while. I got your
secret from you ; not, however, till it betrayed itself
in your pined countenance; and then the man's
discovered unworthiness, and your own discretion,
enabled you to conquer a passion to which you had
given way, supposing it unconquerable, because you
thought it would cost you pains to contend with it.
As to myself, you know I have hitherto been on
my guard. I have been careful ever to shut the
door of my heart against the blind deity, the mo
ment I could imagine him setting his incroaching
foot on the threshold, which I think liking may be
called. Had he once gained entrance, perhaps I
might have come off but simply.
But I hope I am in the less danger of falling in
love with any man, as I can be civil and courteous
to all. When a stream is sluiced off into several
channels, there is the less fear that it will overflow
its banks. I really think I never shall be in love
with any-body, till duty directs inclination.
94? THE HISTORY OF
Excuse me, Lucy. I do now-and-then, you
know, get into a boasting humour. But then my
punishment, as in most other cases, follows my
fault : my uncle pulls me down, and shews me, that
I am not half so good as the rest of my friends
think me.
You tell me, that Mr. Greville will be in London
in a very few days. I can't help it. He pretends
business, you say; and (since that calls him up)
intends to give himself a month's pleasure in town,
and to take his share of the public entertainment.
Well, so let him. But I hope that I am not to be
either his business or entertainment. After a civil
neighbourly visit, or so, I hope, I shall not be
tormented with him.
What happened once betwixt Mr. Fenwick and
him gave me pain enough ; exposed me enough,
surely ! A young woman, though without her own
fault, made the occasion of a rencounter between
two men of fortune, must be talked of too much for
her own liking, or she must be a strange creature.
What numbers of people has the unhappy rashness
of those two men brought to stare at me ? And
with what difficulty did my uncle and Mr. Deane
bring them into so odd a compromise, as they at
last came into, to torment me, as I may call it, by
joint consent, notwithstanding all I could say to
them ; which was the only probable way, shocking
creatures ! to prevent murder ?
But, Lucy, what an odd thing is it in my uncle,
to take hold of what I said in one of my letters,
that I had a good mind to give you a sketch of
what I might suppose the company at Lady Betty's
would say of your Harriet, were each to write her
character to their confidents or correspondents, as
she has done theirs to you !
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 95
I think there is a little concealed malice in my
uncle's command : but I obey.
To begin then — Lady Betty, who owns she
thinks favourably of me, I will suppose would write
to her Lucy, in such terms as these : But shall I
suppose every one to be so happy, as to have her
Lucy?
' Miss Byron, of whom you have heard Mr.
Reeves talk so much, discredits not, in the main,
the character he has given her. We must allow
a little, you know, for the fondness of relationship.
* The' girl has had a good education, and owes
all her advantages to it. But it is a country and
bookish one: and that won't do ^very-thing for one
of our sex, if awy-thing. Poor thing ! she never was
in town before 1 — But she seems docile, and, for a
country girl, is tolerably genteel : I think, there
fore, I shall receive no discredit by introducing her
into the beau monde.'
Miss Clements, perhaps, agreeable to the good
ness of her kind heart, would have written thus :
' Miss Byron is an agreeable girl : she has invited
me to visit her ; and I hope I shall like her better
and better. She has, one may see, kept worthy
persons' company ; and I dare say, will preserve
the improvement she has gained by it. She is
lively and obliging : she is young ; not more than
twenty ; yet looks rather younger, by reason of a
country bloom, which, however, misbecomes her
not ; and gives a modesty to her first appearance,
that prepossesses one in her favour. What a cast
away would Miss Byron be, if knowing so well, as
she seems to know, what the duty of others is, she
would forget her own !'
96 THE HISTORY OF
Miss Cantillon would perhaps thus write.:
* There was Miss Harriet Byron of Northamp
tonshire ; a young woman in whose favour report
has been very lavish. I can't say that I think her
so very extraordinary : yet she is well enough for a
country girl. But though I do not impute to her a
very pert look, yet if she had not been set up for
something beyond what she is, by all her friends,
who, it seems, are excessively fond, of her, she might
have had a more humble opinion of herself than she
seems to have when she is set a talking. She may,
indeed, make a figure in a country assembly ; but
in the London world she must be not a little awk
ward, having never been here before.
* I take her to have a great deal of art. But to
do her justice, she has no bad complexion : that,
you know, is a striking advantage : but to me she
has a babyish look, especially when she smiles ; yet
I suppose she has been told that her smiles become
her ; for she is always smiling — so like a simpleton,
I was going to say !
* Upon the whole, I see nothing so engaging in
her as to have made her the idol she is with every
body — And what little beauty she has, it cannot
last. For my part, were I a man, the clear bru
nette — But you will think I am praising my
self.'
Miss Barnevelt would perhaps thus write to her
Lucy — To her Lucy ! — Upon my word I will not
let her have a Lucy — She shall have a brother man
to write to, not a woman, and he shall have a fierce
name.
We will suppose, that she also had been describ
ing the rest of the company :
SIR CHARLES GRANDJ8ON. 97
* Well but, my dear Bombardino, I am now to
give you a description of Miss Byron. 'Tis the
softest, gentlest, smiling rogue of a girl — 1 protest,
I could five or six times have kissed her, for what
she said, and for the manner she spoke in — for she
has been used to prate ; a favourite child in her
own family, one may easily see that. Yet so pret
tily loth to speak till spoken to ! — Such a blushing
little rogue ! — 'Tis a dear girl, and I wished twenty
times as I sat by her, that I had been a man for
her sake. Upon my honour, Bombardino, I believe
if I had, I should have caught her up, popt her
under one of my arms, and run away with her.'
Something like this, my Lucy, did Miss Barnevelt
once say.
Having now dismissed the women, I come to
Mr. Singleton, Mr. Walden, and Sir Hargrave.
Mr. Walden (himself a Pasquin) would thus per
haps have written to his Marforio :
* The first lady, whom, as the greatest stranger,
I shall take upon me to describe, is Miss Harriet
Byron of Northamptonshire. In her person she is
not disagreeable ; and most people think her pretty.
But, what is prettiness ? Why, nevertheless, in a
woman, prettiness is — pretty: What other word
can I so fitly use of a person, who, though a little
sightly, cannot be called a beauty ?
* I will allow, that we men are not wrong in ad
miring modest women for the graces of their per
sons: but let them be modest; let them return the
compliment, and revere us for our capaciousness
of mind : and so they will, if they are brought up
to know their own weakness, and that they are
98 THE HISTORY OF
but domestic animals of a superior order. Even
ignorance, let me tell you, my Marforio, is pretty
in a woman. Humility is one of their principal
graces. Women hardly ever set themselves to
acquire the knowledge that is proper to men, but
they neglect for it, what more indispensably be
longs to women. To have them come to their
husbands, to their brothers, and even to their lo
vers when they have a mind to know any-thing out
of their way, and beg to be instructed and inform
ed, inspireth them with the becoming humility
which I have touched upon, and giveth us import
ance with them.
' Indeed, my Marforio, there are very few topics
that arise in conversation among men, upon which
women ought to open their lips. Silence becomes
them. Let them therefore hear, wonder, and im
prove, in silence. They are naturally contentious,
and lovers of contradiction' [something like this
Mr. Walden once threw out : and you know who,
my Lucy — but I am afraid — has said as much]
6 and shall we qualify them to be disputants against
ourselves ?
* These reflections, Marforio, are not foreign to
my subject. This girl, this Harriet Byron, is ap
plauded for a young woman of reading and obser
vation. But there was another lady present, Miss
Clements, who (if there be any merit to a woman
in it) appeareth to me to excel her in the compass
of her reading ; and that upon the strength of her
own diligence and abilities ; which is not the case
with this Miss Harriet; for she, truly, hath had
some pains taken with her by her late grandfather,
a man of erudition, who had his education among
us. This old gentleman, I am told, took it into
his head, having no grandson, to give this girl a
bookish "turn ; but he wisely stopt at her mother-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 99
tongue; only giving her a smattering in French
and Italian.
' As I saw that the eyes of every one were upon
her, I was willing to hear what she had to say for
herself. Poor girl ! she will suffer, I doubt, for her
speciousness. Yet I cannot say, all things con
sidered, that she was very malapert : that quality
is yet to come. She is young.
' I therefore trifled a little with her : and went
further than I generally choose to go with the read
ing species of women, in order to divert an inunda
tion of nonsense and foppery, breaking in from one
of the company; Sir HargravePollexfen: of whom
more anon.
* You know, Marforio, that a man, when he is
provoked to fight with an overgrown boy, hath
every -body against him : so hath a scholar who en-
gageth on learned topics with a woman. The sex
must be flattered at the expence of truth. Many
things are thought to be pretty from the mouth of a
woman, which would be egregiously weak and silly
proceeding from that of a man. His very eminence
in learning, on such a contention, would tend only
to exalt her, and depreciate himself. As the girl
was every-body's favourite, and as the baronet
seemed to eye her with particular regard, I spared
her. A man would not, you know, spoil a girl's
fortune.'
But how, Lucy, shall I be able to tell what I
imagine Sir Hargrave would have written ? Can I
do it, if I place him in the light of a lover, and not
either underdo his character as such, or incur the
censure of vanity and conceit ?
Well, but are you sure, Harriet, methinks my un
cle asks, that the baronet is really and truly so egre
giously smitten with you, as he pretended he was ?
K2
100 THE HISTORY OF
Why, ay ! That's the thing, Sir !
You girls are so apt to take in earnest the com
pliments made you by men ! —
And so we are. But our credulity, my dear Sir,
is a greater proof of our innocence, than men's pro
fessions are of their sincerity. So, let losers speak,
and winners laugh.
But let him be in jest, if he will. In jest or in
earnest, Sir Hargrave must be extravagant, I ween,
in love-speeches. And that I may not be thought
wholly to decline this part of my task, I will sup
pose him professing with Hudibras, after he has
praised me beyond measure, for graces of his own
creation ;
The sun shall now no more dispense
His own, but Harriet's influence.
Where-e'er she treads, her feet shall set
The primrose and the violet :
All spices, perfumes, and sveet powders,
Shall borrow from her breath their odours :
Worlds shall depend upon her eye,
And when she frowns upon them, die.
And what if I make him address me, by way of
apostrophe, shall 1 say ? (writing to his friend) in the
following strain ?
My faith [my friend"] is adamantine
As chains of destiny, I'll maintain;
True, as Apollo ever spoke,
Or oracle from heart of oak:
Then shine upon me but benignly,
With that one, and that other pigsnye;
The sun and day shall sooner part,
Than love or you shake off my heart.
Well, but what, my Harriet, would honest Mr.
Singleton have written, had he written about you?
Why thus, perhaps, my Lucy : and to his grand
mother ; for she is living.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 101
< We had rare/ww at dinner, and after dinner,
my grandmother.
* There was one Miss Barnevelt, a fine tall portly
young lady.
* There was Miss Clements, not handsome, but
very learned, and who, as was easy to perceive,
could hold a good argument, on occasion.
* There was Miss Cantillon ; as pretty a young
lady as one would wish to behold in a summer s day.
**And there was one Miss Byron, a Northampton
shire lady, whom I never saw before.
« There was Mr. Walden, a most famous scholar.
I thought him very entertaining ; for he talked of
learning, and such-like things ; which I know not
so much of as I wish I did ; because my want of
knowing a little Latin and Greek has made my un
derstanding look less than other men's. O my
grandmother ! what a wise wan would the being able
to talk Latin and Greek have made me ! And yet 1
thought that now-and-then Mr. Walden made too
great Q.JUSS about his.
* But there was a rich and noble baronet ; richer
than me, as they say, a great deal; Sir Hargrove
Pollexfun, if I spell his name right. A charming
man ! and charmingly dressed 1 and so many fine
things he said, and was so merry, and so facetious,
that he did nothing but laugh, as a man may say I
And I was as merry as him to the full. Why not?
* O my grandmother ! What with the talk of the
young country lady, that same Miss Byron ; for
they put her upon talking a great deal ; what with
the famous scholar ; who, however, being a learned
man, could not be so merry as us ; what with Sir
Hargrave (I could live and die with Sir Hargrave J
you never knew, my grandmother, such a bright
man as Sir Hargrave), and what with one thing,
and what with another, we boxed it about, and had
K3
102 THE HISTORY OF
rarejfaw, as I told you — So that when I got home,
and went to bed, I did nothing but dream of being
in the same company, and three or four times waked
myself with laughing.'
There, Lucy !— Will this do for Mr. Singleton ?
It is not much out of character, I assure you.
Monday afternoon.
THIS knight, this Sir Rowland Meredith !— He
is below, it seems ; his nephew with him ; Sir Row
land, my Sally tells me, in his gold button and but
ton-hole coat, and full-buckled wig ; Mr. Fowler as
spruce as a bridegroom. — What shall I do with Sir
Rowland ?
I shall be sorry to displease the good old man ;
yet how can I avoid it ?
Expect another letter next post : and so you will,
if I did not bid you ; for have I missed one yet ?
Adieu, my Lucy.
H. B.
LETTER XVI.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Monday night,)Fb6
Tuesday morn. 5
SIR Rowland and his nephew, tea being not quite
ready, sat down with my cousins ; and the knight,
leaving Mr. Fowler little to say, expatiated so hand
somely on his nephew's good qualities, and great
passion for me, and on what he himself proposed
to do for him in addition to his own fortune, that my
cousins, knowing I liked not the gentlemen in our
own neighbourhood, and thought very indifferently
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 103
of Sir Hargrave, were more than half inclined to
promote the addresses of Mr. Fowler ; and gave
them both room to think so.
This favourable disposition set the two gentlemen
up. They were impatient for tea, that they might
see me.
By the time I had sealed up my letters, word
was brought me that tea was ready ; and I went
down.
The knight, it seems, as soon as they heard me
coming, jogged Mr. Fowler. — Nephew, said he,
pointing to the door, see what you can say to the
primrose of your heart! — This is now the primrose
season with us in Caermarthen, Mr. Reeves.
Mr. Fowler, by a stretch of complaisance, came
to meet and introduce me to the company, though
at home. The knight nodded his head after him,
smiling ; as if he had said, Let my nephew alone to
galant the lady to her seat.
I was a little surprised at Mr. Fowler's approach
ing me the moment I appeared, and with his taking
my hand, and conducting me to my seat, with an
air ; not knowing how much he had been raised by
the conversation that had passed before.
He bowed. I courtesied, and looked a little sil
lier than ordinary, I believe.
Your servant, young lady, said the knight. Love
lier, and lovelier, by mercy ! How these blushes be
come that sweet face ! — But, forgive me, madam,
it is not my intent to dash you.
Writing, Miss Byron, all day ! said Mrs. Reeves.
We have greatly missed you.
My cousin seemed to say this, on purpose to give
me time to recover myself.
I have blotted several sheets of paper, said I,
and had just concluded.
1 hope, madam, said the knight, leaning forward
104? THE HISTORY OP
his whole body, and peering in my face under his
bent brows, that tve have not been the cause of has
tening you down*
I stared. But as he seemed not to mean any
thing, I would not help him to a meaning by my
own over-quickness.
Mr. Fowler had done an extraordinary thing, and
sat down, hemmed, and said nothing ; looking how
ever, as if he was at a loss to know whether he or
his uncle was expected to speak.
The cold weather was then the subject ; and the
two gentlemen rubbed their hands, and drew nearer
the fire, as if they were the colder for talking of
it. Many hems passed between them, now the
uncle looking on the nephew, now the nephew
on the uncle : at last they fell into talk of their
new-built house at Caermarthen, and the furnishing
of it.
They mentioned afterwards, their genteel neigh
bourhood, and gave the characters of half-a'dozen
people, of whom none present but themselves ever
heard; but all tending to shew how much they were
valued by the best gentry in Caermarthenshire.
The knight then related a conversation that had
once passed between himself and the late Lord
Mansell, in which that nobleman had complimented
him on an estate of a clear 30001. a-year, besides a
good deal of ready cash, and with supposing that he
would set up his nephew when at age (for it was
some years ago) as a representative for the county.
And he repeated the prudent answer he gave his
lordship, disavowing such a design, as no better
than a gaming propensity, as he called it, which had
ruined many a fair estate.
This sort of talk, in which his nephew owWbear
a part (and indeed they had it all between them)
held the tea-time ; and then having given them-
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 105
selves the consequence they had seemed to intend,
the knight, drawing his chair nearer to me, and
winking to his nephew, who withdrew, began to set
forth to me the young gentleman's good qualities ;
to declare the passion he had for me ; and to beg
my encouragement of so worthy, so proper, and so
•well-favoured a young man ; who was to be his sole
heir ; and for whom he would do such things, on my
account, as, during his life, he would not do for any
other woman breathing.
There was no answering a discourse so serious
with the air of levity which it was hardly possible
to avoid assuming on the first visit of the knight.
I was vexed that I found myself almost as bash
ful, as silly, and as silent, as if I had thoughts of
encouraging Mr. Fowler's addresses. My cousins
seemed pleased with my bashfulness. The knight
I once thought, by the tone of his voice, and his
hum, would have struck up a Welsh tune, and
danced for joy.
Shall I call in my kinsman, madam, to confirm
all I have said, and to pour out his whole soul at
your feet ? My boy is bashful : but a little favour
from that sweet countenance will make a man of
him. Let me, let me, call in my boy. I will go
for him myself; and was going.
Let me say one word, Sir Rowland — before Mr.
Fowler comes in — before you speak to him — You
have explained yourself unexceptionably. I am
obliged to you and Mr. Fowler for your good opi
nion : but this can never be.
How, madam ! Can never be ! — I will allow that
you shall take time for half-a-dozen visits, or so,
that you may be able to judge of my nephew's
qualities and understanding, and be convinced from
his own mouth, and heart, and soul, as I may say,
of his love for you. No need of time for him. He,
106 THE HISTORY OF
poor man ! is fixed, immoveably fixed : but say yott
will take a week's time, or so, to consider what you
can do, what you will do — and that's all I at present
crave, or indeed, madam, can allow you.
I cannot doubt, now, Sir Rowland, of what my
mind will be a week hence, as to this matter.
How, madam ! — Why we are all in the suds, then !
—Why, Mr. Reeves, Mrg. Reeves ! Whew ! with
a half-whistle— Why, madam, we shall, at this rate,
be all untwisted! — But (after a pause) by mercy
1 will not be thus answered 1 — Why, madam, would
you have the conscience to break my poor boy's
heart? — Come, be as gracious as you look to be —
Give me your hand — [he snatched my hand.] In
respect to his years I withdrew it not] and give my
boy your heart. — Sweet soul ! Such sensible, such
good-natured mantlings! — Why you can't be
cruel, if you would ! — Dear lady ! say you will take
a little time to consider of this matter. Don't
repeat those cruel words, " It can never be." —
What have you to object to my boy ?
Mr. Fowler, both by character and appearance,
Sir Rowland, is a worthy man. He is a modest
man ; and modesty —
Well, and so he is — Mercy ! I was afraid that his
modesty would be an objection —
It cannot, Sir Rowland, with a modest woman. I
love, I revere, a modest man : but, indeed, I cannot
give hope, where I mean not to encourage any.
Your objection, madam, to my nephew ? — You
must have seen something in him you dislike.
I do not easily dis-like, Sir; but then I do not easily
like : and I never will marry any man, to whom I can
not be more than indifferent.
Why, madam, he adores you — He —
That, Sir, is an objection, unless I could return his
love. My gratitude would be endangered.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 107
Excellent notions ! — With these notions, madam,
you could not be ungrateful.
That, Sir, is a risque I will never run. How many
bad wives are there, who would have been good ones,
had they not married either to their dislike, or with
indifference ? Good beginnings, Sir Rowland, are
necessary to good progresses, and to happy con
clusions.
Why so they are. But beginnings that are not bad,
with good people, will make no bad progresses, no
bad conclusions.
No bad is not good. Sir Rowland ; and in such a
world as this, shall people lay themselves open to
the danger of acting contrary to their duty? Shall
they suffer themselves to be bribed, either by con-
veniencies, or superfluities, to give their hands, aud
leave their hearts doubtful or indifferent ? It would
not be honest to do so.
You told me, madam, the first time I had the
honour to see you, that you were absolutely and
lonajlde disengaged —
I told you truth, Sir.
Then, madam, we will not take your denial. We
will persevere. We will not be discouraged ! What a
deuce ! Have I notheard it said, that faint heart
never tuonjair lady?
I never would give an absolute denial, Sir, were I
to have the least doubt of my mind. If I could ba
lance, I would consult my friends, and refer to them ;
and their opinion should have due weight with me.
But for your nephew's sake, Sir Rowland, while his
esteem for me is young and conquerable, urge not
this matter farther. I would not give pain to a wor
thy heart.
As I hope for mercy, madam, so well do Hike your
notions, that if you will be my niece, and let me but
108 THE HISTORY OF
converse with you once a day, I will be content whir
1001. a-year, and settle upon you all I have in the-
world.
His eyes glistened ; his face glowed ; an honest
earnestness appeared in his countenance.
Generous man ! Good Sir Rowland ! said I. I
was affected. I was forced to withdraw.
I soon returned, and found Sir Rowland, his hand
kerchief in his hand, applying very earnestly to my
cousins : and they were so much affected too, that
on his resuming the subject to me, they could not
help putting in a word or two on his side of the
question.
Sir Rowland then proposed to call in his nephew,
that he might speak for himself. My boy may be
over-awed by love, madam: true love is always
fearful : yet he is no milksop, I do assure you. To
men he has courage. How lie will behave to you,
madam, I know not ; for, really, notwithstanding
that sweetness of aspect, which I should have
thought would have led one to say what one would
to you (in modesty I mean) I have a kind of I-
cannot-tell-what for you myself. Reverence it is
not neither, I think — I only reverence my Maker —
And yet I believe it is. Why, madam, your face is
one of God Almighty's wonders in a little compass !
— Pardon me — You may blush — But be gracious
now! — Don't shew us, that, with a face so encou
ragingly tender, you have a hard heart.
0 Sir Rowland, you are an excellent advocate :
But pray tell Mr. Fowler —
1 will call him in — And was rising.
No, don't. But tell Mr. Fowler, that I regard him
on a double account ; for his own worth's sake, and
for his uncle's :. but subject me not, I once more en
treat you, to the pain of repulsing a worthy man.. I
3
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 109
repeat, that I am under obligation to him for the
value he has for me : I shall be under more, if he will
accept of my thanks as all I have to return.
My dear Miss Byron, said Mr. Reeves, oblige Sir
Rowland so far, as to take a little time to consider—
God bless you on earth and in heaven, Mr. Reeves,
for this! You are agood man — Why, ay, take alittle
time to consider — God bless you, madam, take a
little time. Say you will consider. You know not
what a man of understanding my nephew is. Why,
madam, modest as he is, and awed by his love for
you, he cannot shew half the good sense he is mas
ter of.
Modest men must have merit, Sir. But how can
you, Mr. Reeves, make a difficult task more diffi
cult ? And yet all is from the goodness of your
heart. You see, Sir Rowland thinks me cruel : I
have no cruelty in my nature. I love to oblige. I
wish to match you in generosity, Sir Rowland. —
Ask me for any thing but myself, and I will endea
vour to oblige you.
Admirable, by mercy! Why every thing you say,
instead of making me desist, induces me to perse
vere. There is no yielding up such a prize, if one
can obtain it. Tell me, Mr. Reeves, where there is
such another woman to be had, and we may give up
Miss Byron: but I hope she will consider of it. —
Pray, madam — But I will call in my nephew. And
out he went in haste, as if he were afraid of being
again forbidden.
Mean time my cousins put it to me — But be
fore I could answer them, the knight, followed by
his nephew, returned.
Mr. Fowler entered, bowing in the most repect-
ful manner. He looked much more dejected than
when he approached me at my first coming down.
VOL. i. L
HO THE HISTORY OF
His uncle had given him a hint of what had passed
between us.
Mr. Fowler and I had but just sat down, when the
knight said to Mr. Reeves (but took him not by the
button, as in his first visit) one word with you, Sir —
Mr. Reeves, one word with you, if you please.
They withdrew together; and presently after
Mrs. Reeves went out at the other door ; and I was
left alone with Mr. Fowler.
We both sat silent for about three or four mi
nutes. 1 thought I ought not to begin ; Mr. Fowler
knew not how. He drew his chair nearer to me ;
then sat a little farther off; then drew it nearer again ;
stroked his ruffles, and hemmed two or three
times ; and at last, You cannot, madam, but ob
serve my confusion, my concern, my, my, my con
fusion! — It is all owing to my reverence, my re
spect, my reverence, for you — hem ! — He gave two
gentle hems, and was silent.
I could not enjoy the modest man's awkwardness.
— Every feature of his face working, his hands and
his knees trembling, and his tongue faltering, how
barbarous had I been, if I could — O Lucy, what a
disqualifier is love, if such agitations as these are^the
natural effects of that passion!
Sir Rowland has been acquainting me, Sir, said
I, with the good opinion you have of me. I am very
much obliged to you for it. I have been telling
Sir Rowland — -
Ah, madam! Say not what you have been telling
Sir Rowland; he has hinted it to me. I must indeed
confess my unworthiness ; yet I cannot forbear as
piring to your favour. Who that knows what will
make him the happiest of men, however unworthy
he may be, can forbear seeking his happiness? I can
only say, I am the most miserable of men, if—
CHARLES GRANDISON. Ill
Good Mr. Fowler, interrupted I, indulge not a
hope that cannot be answered. I will not pretend
to say, that I should not merit your esteem, if I
could return it; because to whomsoever I should
give my han,d, I would make it a point of duty to
deserve his affection : but for that very reason, and
that I may have no temptation to do otherwise, I
must be convinced in my own mind that there is
not a man in the world whom I could value more
than him I chose.
Ke sighed. I was assured, madam, said he, that
your heart was absolutely disengaged; on that as
surance I founded my presumptuous hope.
And so it is, Mr. Fowler. I have never yet seen
a man whom I could wish to marry.
Then, madam, may 1 not hope, that time, that
my assiduities, that my profound reverence, my
unbounded love —
0 Mr. Fowler, think me not either insensible or
ungrateful. But time, I am sure, can make no al
teration in this case. I can only esteem you> and
that from a motive which I think has selfishness in
it, because you have shewn a regard for me.
No selfishness in this motive, madam ; it is ami
able gratitude. And if all the services of my life,
if all the adoration —
1 have a very indifferent notion of sudden impres
sions, Mr. Fowler: but I will not question the sin
cerity of a man I think so worthy. Sir Rowland has
been very urgent with me. He has wished me to
take time to consider. I have told him I would, if I
could doubt: but that I cannot. For your own sake
therefore, let me intreat you to place your affections
elsewhere. And may you place them happily!
You have, madam, I am afraid, seen men whom
you could prefer to me —
Our acquaintance, Mr. Fowler, is very short. It
1,2
112 THE HISTORY OF
would be no wonder if I had. Yet I told you truly,
that I never yet saw a man whom I could wish to
marry.
He looked down, and sighed.
But, Mr. Fowler, to be still more frank and ex-
F licit with you, as I think you a very worthy man ;
will own, that were any of the gentlemen 1 have
hitherto known to be rny lot, it must be, I think, in
compassion (in gratitude, I had almost said) one
(who nevertheless it cannot be) who has professed
a love for me ever since I was a child. A man of
honour, of virtue, of modesty; such a man as I be
lieve Mr. Fowler is. His fortune indeed is not so
considerable as Sir Rowland says yours will be; but,
Sir, as there is no other reason on the comparison,
why I should prefer Mr. Fowler to him, 1 should
think the worse of myself as long as I lived, if I gave
a preference over such a tried affection to fortune
only. And now, Sir, I expect that you will make a
generous use of my frankness, lest the gentleman, if
you should know him, may hear of it. And this I
request for his sake, as I think I never can be his ;
as for yours I have been thus explicit.
I can only say, that I am the most miserable of
men! — But will you, madam, give me leave to visit
IVlr. Reeves now-and-then?
Not on my account, Mr. Fowler. Understand it
so ; and if you see me, let it be with indifference,
and without expectation from me ; and I shall
always behave myself to you, as to a man who has
obliged me by his good opinion.
He bowed: sat in silence: pulled out his hand
kerchief. — 1 pitied him.
But let me ask all you, my friends, who love Mr.
Orme, Was I wrong? I think I never could love
Mr. Fowler, as a wife ought to love her husband —
May he meet with a worthy woman who can 1 And
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 113
surely so good, so modest a man, and of such an
ample fortune, easily may; while it may be my lot,
if ever I marry, to be the wife of a man, with whom
I may not be so happy, as either Mr. Orme or Mr.
Fowler would probably make me, could I prevail
upon myself to be the wife of either — O my uncle!
often do I reflect on your mercer's shop.
Mr .Fowler arose, and walked disconsolately about
the room, and often profoundly, and, I believe (not
Greville-like) sincerely sighed. His motion soon
brought in the knight and Mr. Reeves at one door,
and Mrs. Reeves at the other.
Well! What news? What news?— Good, I hope,
said the knight with spread hands— Ah my poor boy!
Thus a-la-mort! Surely, madam —
There he stopt, and looked wistfully at me; then
at my cousins — Mr. Reeves, Mrs. Reeves, speak
a good word for my boy. The heart that belongs to
that countenance cannot be adamant surely. — Dear
young lady, let your power be equalled by your
mercy.
Mr. Fowler, Sir Rowland, has too much gene
rosity to upbraid me, I dare say. Nor will you think
me either perverse or ungenerous, when he tells
you what has passed between us.
Have you given him hope, then? God grant it,
though but distant hope! Have you said you will
consider — Dear, blessed lady! —
0 Sir, interrupted I, how good you are to your
nephew ! How worthily is your love placed on him !
What a proof is it of his merit, and of the goodness
of your heart! — I shall always have an esteem for
you both! Your excuse, Sir Rowland: yours, Mr.
Fowler. Be so good as to allow me to withdraw.
1 retired to my own apartment, and throwing
myself into a chair, reflected on what had passed;
L3
114? THE HISTORY OF
after a while recollected myself to begin to write it
down for you.
As soon as I had withdrawn, Mr. Fowler with a
sorrowful heart, as my cousins told me, related all
that I had said to him.
Mr. Reeves was so good as to praise me for what
he called my generosity to Mr. Orme, as well as for
my frankness and civility to Mr. Fowler.
That was the deuce of it, Sir Rowland said, that
were they to have no remedy, they could not find
any fault in me to comfort themselves with.
They put it over and over to my cousin, Whether
time and assiduity might not prevail with me to
change my mind? And whether an application to
my friends in the country might not, on setting
every thing fairly before them, be of service ? But
Mr. Reeves told them, that now I had opened so
freely my mind, and had spoken so unexpectedly,
yet so gratefully in favour of Mr. Orme, he feared
there could be no hopes.
However, both gentlemen, at taking leave, re
commended themselves to Mr. and Mrs. Reeves for
their interests; and the knight vowed that I should
not come off so easily.
So much, and adieu, my Lucy, for the addresses
of worthy Mr. Fowler. Pray, however, for your
Harriet, that she may not draw a worse lot.
Tuesday morning.
At a private concert last night with my cousins
and Miss Clements; and again to be at a play this
night ; I shall be a racketer, I doubt.
Mr. Fowler called here this morning. Mrs. Reeves
and I were out on a visit. But Mr. Reeves was at
home, and they had a good deal of discourse about
me. The worthy man spoke so despairingly of his
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 115
success with me, that I hope, for his own sake, I
shall hear no more of his addresses; and with the
more reason, as Sir Rowland will in a few days set
out for Caermarthen.
Sir Rowland called afterwards; but Mr. Reeves
was abroad; and Mrs. Reeves and I were gone to
Ludgate-hill to buy a gown, which is to be made
up in all haste, that I may the more fashionably
attend Lady Betty Williams to some of the public
entertainments. I have been very extravagant; but it
is partly my cousin's fault. I send you inclosed a
pattern of my silk. I thought we were high in the
fashion in Northamptonshire; but all my clothes
are altering, that I may not look frightful, as the
phrase is.
But shall I as easily get rid of the baronet, think
you, as I hope I have of Mr. Fowler? He is come
to town, and by his own invitation (in a card to Mr.
Reeves) is to be here to-morrow afternoon. What
signifies my getting out of the way ? He will see me
at another time; and I shall increase my own diffi
culties and his consequence, if he thinks I am afraid
of him.
LETTER XVII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Wednesday night.
SIR Hargrave. came before six o'clock. He was
richly dressed. He asked for my cousin Reeves.
I was in my closet, writing. He was not likely to
be the better received for the character Sir John
Allestree gave of him.
He excused himself for coming so early, on the
score of his impatience, and that he might have a
116 THE HISTORY OF
little discourse with them, if I should be engaged,
before tea-time.
Was I within ? — I was. — Thank heaven ! — I was
very good.
So he seemed to imagine that I was at home, in
compliment to him.
Shall I give you, from my cousins, an account of
the conversation before I went down ? You know
Mrs. Reeves is a nice observer.
He had had, he told my cousins, a most uneasy
time of it, ever since he saw me. The devil fetch
him, if he had had one hour's rest. He never saw
a woman before whom he could love as he loved
me. By his soul, he had no view, but what was
strictly honourable.
He sometimes sat down, sometimes walked about
the room, strutting, and now-and-then adjusting
something in his dress that nobody else saw wanted
it. He gloried in the happy prospects before him :
not but he knew I had a little army of admirers :
but as none of them had met with encouragement
from me, he hoped there was room for him to flatter
himself that he might be the happy man.
I told you, Mr. Reeves, said he, that I will give
you carte blanche as to settlements. What I do for
so prudent a woman, will be doing for myself. I
am not used, Mr. Reeves, to boast of my fortune
[then, it seems, he went up to the glass, as if his
person could not fail of being an additional recom
mendation ;] but I will lay before you, or before
any of Miss Byron's friends (Mr. Deane, if she
pleases — ) my rent-rolls. There never was a better-
conditioned estate. She shall live in town, or in the
country, as she thinks fit ; and in the latter, at which
of my seats she pleases. I know I shall have no will
but hers. I doubt not your friendship, Mr. Reeves.
I hope for yours, madam. I shall have great plea-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 117
sure in the alliance I have in view, with every indi
vidual of your family — As if he would satisfy them
of his friendship, in the near relation, as the only
matter that could bear a doubt.
Then he ran on upon the part I bore in the con
versation at Lady Betty Williams's — By his soul, only
the wisest, the wittiest, the most gracefully modest
of women — that was all — Then Ha, ha, ha, hah, poor
Walden ! What a silly fellow ! He had caught a Tar
tar! — Ha, ha, ha, hah — Shaking his head and his
gay sides : Devil take him if he ever saw a prig so
fairly taken in ! — but I was a sly little rogue ! — He
saw that ! — By all that's good, I must myself sing
small in her company! — I will never meet at hard-
edge with her — If 1 did — (and yet I have been
thought to carry a good one) I should be con
foundedly gapped, / can see that. But, continued
he, as a woman is more a husband's than a man is a
wife's [Have all the men this prerogative-notion,
Lucy ? You know it is a better man's] I shall have
a pride worth boasting of, if I can call such a jewel
mine. Poor Walden ! — Rot the fellow ! — I warrant
he would not have so knowing a wife for the world.
— Ha, ha, ha, hah ! He is right : it is certainly right
for such narrow pedants to be afraid of learned wo
men ! — Methinks, I see the fellow, conjurer like,
circumscribed in a narrow circle, putting into Greek
what was better expressed in English ; and forbid
ding every one's approach within the distance of his
wand ! Hah, hah, hah ! — Let me die, if I ever saw
a tragi-comical fellow better handled ! — Then the
faces he made — Did you ever, Mr. Reeves, see in
your life, such a parcel of disastrous faces made by
one man ?
Thus did Sir Hargrave, laughingly, run on : nor
118 THE HISTORY OF
left he hardly any-thing for my cousins to say, or to
do, but to laugh with him, and to smile at him.
On a message that tea was near ready, I went
down. On my entering the room, he addressed me
with an air of kindness and freedom : Charming
Miss Byron ! said he, I hope you are all benignity
and compassion. You know not what I have suffered
since I had the honour to see you last ; bowing very
low; then rearing himself up, holding back his head ;
and seemed the taller for having bowed.
Handsome fop ! thought I to myself. I took my
seat : and endeavoured to look easy and free, as
usual ; finding something to say to my cousins, and
to him. He begged that tea might be postponed
for half an hour ; and that, before the servants were
admitted, I would hear him relate the substance of
the conversation that had passed between him and
Mr. and MPS. Reeves.
Had not Sir Hargrave intended me an honour,
and had he not a very high opinion of the efficacy of
eight thousand pounds a-year in an address of this
kind, I dare say, he would have supposed a little
more prefacing necessary : but, after he had told me,
in a few words, how much he was attracted by my
character before he saw me, he thought fit directly
to refer himself to the declaration he had made at
Lady Betty Williams's, both to Mr. Reeves and my
self; and then talked of large settlements ; boasted
of his violent passion ; and besought my favour with
the utmost earnestness.
I would have played a little female trifling upon
him, and affected to take his professions only for
polite raillery, which men call making love to young
women, who perhaps are frequently but too willing
to take in earnest what the wretches mean but in
jest ; but the fervour with which he renewed (as he
SIR CHARLES GRANDTSON, 119
called it) his declarations, admitted not of fooling ;
and yet his 'volubility might have made questionable
the sincerity of his declarations. As therefore I
could not think of encouraging his addresses, I
thought it best to answer him with openness and
unreserve.
To seem to question the sincerity of such profes
sions as you make, Sir Hargrave, might appear to
you as if 1 wanted to be assured. But be pleased to
know that you are directing your discourse to one
of the plainest-hearted women in England ; and you
may therefore expect from me nothing but the
simplest truth. I thank you, Sir, for your good
opinion of me j but I cannot encourage your ad
dresses.
You cannot, madam, encourage my addresses ! And
express yourself so seriously ! Good heaven ! [He
stood silent a minute or two, looking upon me, and
upon himself; as if he had said, Foolish girl ! knows
she whom she refuses?] I have been assured,
madam, recovering a little from his surprise, that
your affections are not engaged. But surely it must
be a mistake : some happy man —
Is it, interrupted I, a necessary consequence, that
the woman who cannot receive the addresses of Sir
Hargrave Pollexfen, must be engaged ?
Why, madam — As to that — 1 know not what to
say — But a man of my fortune, and I hope, not ab
solutely disagreeable either in person or temper ; of
some rank in life — He paused; then resuming —
What, madam, if you are as much in earnest as you
seem, can be your objection ? Be so good as to
name it, that I may know, whether I cannot be so
happy as to get over it ?
We do not, we cannot, all like the same person.
Women, I have heard say, are very capricious. Per-
120 THE HISTORY OF
haps I am so. But there is a something (we cannot
always say what) that attracts or disgusts us.
Disgusts ! madam — Disgusts ! Miss Byron.
I spoke in general, Sir: I dare say, nineteen wo
men out of twenty would think themselves favoured
in the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen.
But you, madam, are the twentieth that I must
love : and be so good as to let me know —
Pray, Sir, ask me not a reason for a peculiarity.
Do you not yourself shew a peculiarity in making
me the twentieth ?
Your merit, madam-
It would be vanity in me, Sir, interrupted I, to
allow a force to that plea. You, Sir, may have more
merit, than perhaps the man I may happen to ap
prove of better ; but— shall I say? (Pardon me, Sir)
You do not — You do not (hesitating) — hit my
fancy — Pardon me, Sir.
If pardon depends upon my breath, let me die if
I do ! — Not hit your fancy, madam ! [And then he
looked upon himself all around] Not hit your fancy,
madam !
I told you, Sir, that you must not expect any
thing from me but the simplest truth. You do me
honour by your good opinion ; and if my own heart
were not, in this case, a very determined one, I
would answer you with more politeness. But, Sir,
on such an occasion as this, I think it would not be
honourable, it would not be just, to keep a man in
an hour's suspense, when I am in none myself.
And are you then (angrily) so determined, Miss
Byron ?
I am, Sir.
Confound me ! — And yet I am enough con
founded ! — But I will not take an answer so con
trary to my hopes. Tell me, madam, by the since-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 121
rity which you boast ; Are you not engaged in your
affections ? Is there not someone happy man, whom
you prefer to all men ?
I am a free person, Sir Hargrave. It is no im
peachment of sincerity, if a free person answers not
every question that may be put to her, by those to
whom she is not accountable.
Very true, madam. But as it is no impeachment
of your freedom to answer this question either ne
gatively or affirmatively, and as you glory in your
frankness, let me beseech you to answer it; Are
you, madam, or are you not, disengaged in your
affections ?
Excuse me, Sir Hargrave ; I don't think you are
intitled to an answer to this question. Nor, perhaps,
would you be determined by the answer 1 should
make to it, whether negative or affirmative.
Give rrfe leave to say, madam, that I have some
little knowledge of Mr. Fenwick and Mr. Greville,
and of their addresses. They have both owned
that no hopes have you given them ; yet declare
that they will hope. Have you, madam, been as
explicit to them, as you are to me?
1 have, Sir.
Then they are not the men I have to fear — Mr.
Orine, madam —
Is a good man, Sir.
Ah ! madam ! — But why then will you not say
that you are engaged ?
If I own I am ; perhaps it will not avail me: it
will still much less, if I say I am not.
Avail you ! dear Miss Byron ! I have pride,
madam. If I had not, I should not aspire to your
favour. But give me leave to say [and he reddened
with anger] that my fortune, my descent, and my
ardent affection for you, considered, it may not dis-
avail you. Your relations will at least think so, if I
M
122 THE HISTORY OF
may have the honour of your consent for applying
to them.
May your fortune, Sir Hargrave, be a blessing to
you ! It will, in proportion as you do good with it.
But were it twice as much, that alone would have no
charms for me. My duties would be increased with
my power. My fortune is an humble one; but wefe
it less it would satisfy my ambition while I am single;
and if I marry, I should not desire to live beyond the
estate of the man I choose.
Upon my soul, madam, you must be mine. Every
word you speak adds a rivet to my chains.
Then, Sir, let us say no more upon this subject.
He then laid a title to my gratitude from the
passion he avowed for me.
That is a very poor plea, Sir, said I, as you your
self would think, I believe, were one of our sex,,
whom you could not like, to claim a return of love
from you upon it.
You are too refined, surely, madam.
Refined / what meant the man by the word in this
place?
I believe, Sir, we differ very widely in many of our
sentiments.
We will not differ in one, madam, when I know
yours; such is the opinion I have of your prudence,
that I will adopt them, and make them my own.
This may be said, Sir, but there is hardly a man
in the world that, saying it, would keep his word:
nor a woman, who ought to expect he should.
But you will allow of my visits to your cousins,
madam ?
Not on my account, Sir.
You will not withdraw if I come ? You will not
refuse seeing me ?
As you will be no visitor of mine, I must be
allowed to act accordingly. Had I the least thought
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 123
of encouraging your addresses, I would deal with
you as openly as is consistent with my notions of
modesty and decorum.
Perhaps, madam, from my gay behaviour at Lady
Betty Williams's, you think me too airy a man. You
have doubts of my sincerity : you question my
honour.
That, Sir, would be to injure myself.
Your objections, then, dear madam? Give me, I
beseech you, some one material objection.
Why, Sir, should you urge me thus ? — When I
have no doubt, it is unnecessary to look into my own
mind for the particular reasons that move me to dis
approve of the addresses of a gentleman whose pro
fessions of regard for me, notwithstanding, intitle
him to civility and acknowledgment.
By my soul, madam, this is very comical :
I do not like thee, Dr. Fell;
The reason why, 1 cannot tell —
But I don't like tbee, Dr. Fell.
Such, madam, seem to me to be your reasons.
You are very pleasant, Sir. But let me say, that
if you are in earnest in your professions, you could
not have quoted any thing more against you than
these humorous lines ; since a dislike of such a
nature as is implied by them, must be a dislike
arising from something resembling a natural aver
sion ; whether just or not is little to the purpose.
I was not aware of that, replied he : but I hope
yours to me is not such a one.
Excuse me, cousin, said I, turning to Mrs.
Reeves ; but I believe I have talked away the
tea-time.
I think not of tea, said she.
Hang tea, said Mr. Reeves.
M 2
124? THE HISTORY OF
The devil fly away with the tea-kettle, said Sir
Hargrave ; let it not have entrance here, till I have
said what I have further to say. And let me tell you,
Miss Byron, that though you may not have a dying
lover, you shall have a resolute one: for I will not
cease pursuing you till you are mine, or till you are
the wife of some other man.
He spoke this fiercely, and even rudely. I was dis
gusted as much at his manner, as with his words.
I cannot, replied I, but congratulate myself on
one felicity, since I have been in your company, Sir;
and that is, That in this whole conversation (and I
think it much too long) I have not one thing to re
proach myself with, or be sorry for.
Your servant, madam, bowing — But I am of the
contrary opinion. By heaven, madam, [with anger
and an air of insolence I think] you have pride,
madam —
Pride, Sir!
Cruelty.—
Cruelty, Sir!
Ingratitude, madam.
I thought it was staying to be insulted. All that
Sir John Allestree had said of him, came into my
head.
Hold, Sir (for he seemed to be going on) : pride,
cruelty, ingratitude, are crimes black enough. If
you think I am guilty of them, excuse me that I re
tire for the benefit of recollection. — And, making a
low courtesy, I withdrew in haste. He besought me
to return ; and followed me to the stair's foot.
He shewed his pride, and his ill-nature too, before
my cousins, when I was gone. He bit his lip : he
walked about the room ; then sitting down, he la
mented, defended, accused, and re-defended him
self; and yet besought their interest with me.
He was greatly disturbed, he owned, that without
SIR CHARLES OHANDISON. 125
honourable intentions, with so much POWER to make
me happy, and such a WILL to do so, he should be
refused; and this without my assigning one reason
for it.
And my cousins (to whom he again referred on
that head) answering him, that they believed me
disengaged in my affections — D — him, he said, if
he could account then for my behaviour to him.
He, however, threatened Mr. Orme : who (if any)
he said, was the man I favoured. I had acknow
ledged, that neither Greville nor Fenwick were.
My proud repulse had stung him, he owned. He
begged, that they would send for me down in their
names.
They liked not the humour he seemed to be in
well enough to comply with his request; and he
sent up in his own name.
But I returned my compliments ; I was busy in
writing [and so I was — to you, my Lucy] ; I hoped
Sir Hargrave, and my cousins, would excuse me.
I put them in to soften my refusal.
This still more displeased him. He besought
their pardon ; but he would haunt me like a ghost.
In spite of man and devil I should be his, he had
the presumption to repeat : and went away with a
flaming face.
Don't you think, my dear, that my cousin Reeves
was a little too mild in his own house ; as I am under
his guardianship? But perhaps he was the more pa
tient for that very reason; and he is one of thebest-
natured men in England. And then 80001. a-yearl
—Yet why should a man of my counsin's independent
fortune — But grandeur will have its charms!
Thus did Sir Hargrave confirm all that Sir John
Allestree had said of his bad qualities : and I think I
am more afraid of him than ever I was of any man
M 3
126 THE HISTORY OP
before. I remember, that mischievous is one of the
bad qualities Sir John attributed to him : and re
vengeful another. Should I ever see him again on
the same errand, I will be more explicit, as to my
being absolutely disengaged in my affections, if I can
be so without giving him hope, lest he should do pri
vate mischief to some one on my account. Upon my
word, I would not, of all the men I have ever seen,
be the wife of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen.
And so much for this first visit of his. I wish
his pride may be enough piqued to make it the
last.
But could you have thought he would have shewn
himself so soon? — Yet he had paraded so much, be
fore I went down, to my cousins, and so little ex
pected a direct and determined repulse, that a man
of his self-consequence might, perhaps, be allowed
to be the more easily piqued by it.
Lady Betty has sent us notice, that on Thursday
next, there will be a ball at the Opera house in the
Hay-market. My cousins are to choose what theirs
will be; but she insists, that my dress shall be left
to her. I am not to know what it is to be, till the
day before, or the very day. If I like it not, she
will not put me to any expence about it.
You will easily imagine, upon such an alternative,
I shall approve of it,, be it what it will. I have only
requested, that I may not be so remarkably dressed,
as to attract the eyes of the company: if I am, I shall
not behave with any tolerable presence of mind.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 127
LETTER XVIII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Friday, February 10.
ONE of Mr. Greville's servants has just been here,
with his master's compliments. So the wretch is
come to town. I believe I shall soon be able to
oblige him : he wishes, you know, to provoke me
to say I hate him.
Surely I draw inconveniencies upon myself by
being so willing to pay civility for esteem. Yet it is
in my. nature to do so, and I cannot help it without
committing a kind of violence on my temper. There
is no merit, therefore, in my behaviour, on such oc
casions. Very pretty self-deception ! — I study my
own ease, and (before I consider) am ready to call
myself patient, and good humoured, and civil, and
to attribute to myself I know not how many kind and
complaisant things ; when I ought, in modesty, to
distinguish between the virtue and the necessity.
I never was uncivil, as I call it, but to one young
gentleman; a man of quality (you know who I
mean) ; and that was, because he wanted me to keep
secret his addresses to me, for family considerations.
The young woman who engages to keep her lover's
secrets in this particular, is often brought into a
plot against herself, and oftener still against those
to whom she owes unreserved honour and duty:
and is not such a conduct also an indirect confession,
that you know you are engaging in something
wrong and unworthy ?
Mr. Greville's arrival vexes me. I suppose it will
not be long before Mr. Fenwick comes too. I have
a good mind to try to like the modest Mr. Orme the
better, in spite.
128 THE HISTORY OF
Saturday morning, February 11.
I shall have nothing to trouble you with, I think,
but scenes of courtship. Sir Rowland, Sir Har-
grave, and Mr. Greville. all met just now at our
breakfast-time.
Sir Rowland came first ; a little before breakfast
was ready. After enquiries of Mr. -Reeves whether
I held in the same mind, or not ; he desired to have
the favour of one quarter of an hour's conversation
with me alone.
Methinks I have a value for this honest knight.
Honesty, my Lucy, is good sense, politeness, ami-
ableness, all in one. An honest man must appear
in every light with such advantages, as will make
even singularity agreeable. I went down directly.
He met me ; and taking my not-withdrawn hand,
and peering in my face, Mercy ! said he, the same
kind aspect ! The same sweet and obliging counte
nance ! How can this be ? But you must be gra
cious ! You will. Say you will.
You must not urge me, Sir Rowland. You will
give me pain if you lay me under a necessity to re
peat —
Repeat what ? Don't say a refusal. Dear madam,
don't say a refusal ! Will you not save a life ? Why,
madam, my poor boy is absolutely and bonajide
broken-hearted. I would have had him come with
me : but, no, he could not bear to teaze the beloved
of his soul ! WTiy there's an instance of love now !
Not for all his hopes, not for his life's sake could he
bear to teaze you! None of your fluttering Jack a-
dandy's, now, would have said this ! And let not
such succeed, where modest merit fails ! — Mercy !
You are struck with my plea ! Don't, don't, God
bless you now, don't harden your heart on my ob
servation. I was resolved to set out in a day or two :
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 129
but I will stay in town, were it a month, to see my
boy made happy. And, let me tell you, I would
not wish him to be happy unless he could make you
so. — Come, come —
I was a little affected. I was silent.
Come, come, be gracious ; be merciful. Dear
lady, be as good as you look to be. One word of
comfort for my poor boy. I could kneel to you for
one word of comfort-1— Nay, I will kneel ; taking hold
of my other hand, as he still held one ; and down on
his knees dropt the honest knight.
I was surprised. I knew not what to say, what to
do. I had not the courage to attempt to raise him.
Yet to see a man of his years, and who had given
himself a claim to my esteem, kneel ; and, with
glistening eyes, looking up to me for mere?/, as he
called it, on his boy ; how was I affected ! — But, at
last, Rise, dear Sir Rowland, rise, said I : you call
out for mercy to me ; yet have none upon me. O
how you distress me !
I would have withdrawn my hands ; but he held
them fast. I stamped in tender passion [I am sure
it was in tender passionj now with one foot, now
with the other ; Dear Sir Rowland, rise ; I cannot
bear this. I beseech you rise [and down I dropt in
voluntarily on one knee], What can I say ? Rise,
dear Sir, on my knee I beg of you kneel not to me :
indeed, Sir, you greatly distress me ! Pray let go
my hands.
Tears ran down his cheeks — And do I distress
you, madam ! And do you vouchsafe to kneel to
me ? — I will not distress you : for the world I will not
distress you.
He arose, and let go my hands. I arose too
abashed. He pulled out his handkerchief, and
hastening from me to the window, wiped his eyes.
Then turning to me, What a fool I am ! What a
130 THE HISTORY OF
mere child I make of myself! How can I blame my
boy ? O madam ! have you not one word of comfort
to send by me to my boy ? Say, but, you will see
him. Give him leave to wait on you : yet, poor
soul ! (wiping his eyes again) he would not be able
to say a word in his own behalf. — Bid me bring him
to you : bid us come together.
And so I could, and so I would, Sir Rowland, if
no other expectations were to be formed than those
of civility. But I will go farther to shew my regard
for you, Sir : let me be happy in your friendship,
and good opinion : let me look upon you as my
father : let me look upon Mr. Fowler as my brother :
I am not so happy, as to have either father or bro
ther. And let Mr. Fowler own me as his sister ;
and every visit you make me, you will both, in these
characters, be dearer to me than before. — But, O
my father! (already will I call you father!) urge
not your daughter to an impossibility !
Mercy ! Mercy ! What will become of me ! What
will become of my boy, rather !
He turned from me, with his handkerchief at his
eyes again, and even sobbed : Where are all my pur
poses ! Irresistible lady ! — But must I give up my
hopes ! Must my boy be told — And yet, do you call
me father ; and do you plead for my indulgence as if
you were my daughter ?
Indeed I do ; indeed I must. I have told Mr.
Fowler, with so much regard for him, as an honest,
as a worthy man —
Why that's the weapon that wounds him, that
cuts him to the heart ! Your gentleness, your open
ness — And are you determined ? Can there be no
hope?
Mr. Fowler is my brother. Sir ; and you are my
father. — Accept me in those characters.
Accept you ! Mercy ! Accept you ! — Forgive me,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 131
madam, (catching my hand, and pressing it with his
lips) you do me honour in the appellation : but if
your mind should change on consideration, and
from motives of pity —
Indeed, indeed, Sir Rowland, it cannot change.
Why then, I, as well as my nephew, must acqui
esce with your pleasure. But, madam, you don't
know what a worthy creature he is. I will not,
however, teaze you. — But how, but how, shall I see
Mr. Reeves ? 1 am ashamed to see him with this
baby in my face.
And I, Sir Rowland, must retire before I can ap
pear. Excuse me, Sir (withdrawing) ; but I hope
you will breakfast with us.
I will drink tea with you, madam, if I can make
myself fit to be seen, were it but to claim you for my
daughter : but yet had much rather you would be
a farther remove in relation : would to God you
would let it be niece!
I courtesied. as a daughter might do, parting with
her real father ; and withdrew.
And now, my Lucy, will you not be convinced
that one of the greatest pains (the loss of dear
friends excepted) that a grateful mind can know, is
to be too much beloved by a worthy heart, and not
to be able to return his love ?
My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin
another letter. — Yet a few words in the margin — I
tell you not, my dear, of the public entertainments
to which Lady Betty is continually contriving to
draw me out. She intends by it to be very
obliging, and is so : but my present reluctance to
go so very often, must not be overcome, as it pos
sibly would be too easily done, were J to give way
to the temptation. If it be, your Harriet may turn
gadder, and never be easy but when she is forming
parties, or giving way to them, that may make the
132 THE HISTORY OF
home, that hitherto has been the chief scene of her
pleasures, undelightful to her. Bad habits are
sooner acquired than shaken off, as my grand
mamma has often told us.
LETTER XIX.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
WHO would have thought that a man of Sir Row
land's time of life, and a woman so young as I,
could have so much discomposed each other ? I
obeyed the summons to breakfast, and entered the
room at one door, as he came in at the other. In
vain had I made use of the short retirement to con
ceal my emotion from my cousins. They also saw
Sir Rowland's by his eyes, and looked at him, at
me, and at each other.
Mercy! said Sir Rowland, in an accent that
seemed between crying and laughing, You, you,
you, madam, are a surprising lady ! I, I, I never was
so affected in my life. And he drew the back of his
hand cross first one eye, then the other.
O Sir Rowland, said I, you are a good man. Plow
affecting are the visible emotions of a manly heart !
My cousins still looked as if surprised; but said
nothing.
O my cousins, said I, I have found a father in
Sir Rowland ; and I acknowledge a brother in Mr.
Fowler.
Best of women ! Most excellent of creatures !
And do you own me ? He snatched my hand, and
kissed it. What pride do you give me in this open
acknowledgment ! If it must not be niece, why
then I will endeavour to rejoice in my daughter, I
SIR, CHARLES GRANDISON. 133
think. But yet, my boy, my poor boy — But you
are all goodness: and with him I, say, I must not
teaze you.
What you have been saying to each other alone,
said Mrs. Reeves, I cannot tell ; but I long to know.
Why, madam, I will tell you — if I know how —
You must know, that I, that I, came as an ambas
sador extraordinary from my sorrowful boy : yet not
desired: not sent; I came of my own accord, in
hopes of getting one word of comfort, and to bring
matters on before I set out for Caermarthen.
The servant coming in, and a loud rap, rap, rap,
at the door, put a stop to Sir Rowland's narrative.
In apprehension of company, I breathed on my
hand, and put it to either eye : and Sir Rowland
hemmed twice or thrice, and rubbed his, the better
to conceal their redness, though it made them red
der than before. He got up, looked in the glass :
would have sung. Toll, doll — Hem, said he ; as if
the muscles of his face were in the power of his
voice. Mercy ! All the infant still in my eye —
Toll — doll — Hem ! — I would sing it away if I could.
Sir Hargrave entered bowing, scraping to me,
and with an air not ungraceful.
Servant, Sir, said the knight (to Sir Hargrave's
silent salute to him) bowing, and looking at the
baronet's genteel morning dress, and then at his
own — Who the deuce is he! whispering to Mr.
Reeves ; who then presented each to the other by
name.
The baronet approached me ; I have, madam, a
thousand pardons to ask —
Not one, Sir.
Indeed 1 have — And most heartily do I beg —
You are forgiven, Sir —
But I will not be so easily forgiven.
134? THE HISTORY OF
Mercy ! whispered the knight to Mr. Reeves, I
don't like'n. Ah ! my poor boy : no wonder at this
rate !—
You have not much to fear, Sir Rowland (re-
whispered my cousin) on this gentleman's account.
Thank you, thank you — And yet 'tis a fine figure
of a man ! whispered again Sir Rowland : nay, if
she can withstand him — But a word to the wise, Mr.
Reeves ! — Hem ! — I am a little easier than I was.
He turned from my cousin with such an air, as if
from contrasted pleasure and pain, he would again
have sung Toll, doll.
The servant came in with the breakfast : and we
had no sooner sat down, as before, than we were
alarmed by another modern rapping. Mr. Reeves
was called out, and returned, introducing Mr. Gre-
ville.
Who the deuce is he ? whispered to me Sir Row
land (as he sat next me) before Mr. Reeves could
name him.
Mr. Greville profoundly bowed to me. I asked
after the health of all our friends in Northampton
shire.
Have you seen Fenwick, madam ?
No, Sir.
A dog ! I thought he had played me a trick. I
missed him for three days — But (in a low voice) if
you have not seen him, I have stolen a march upon
him < — Well, I had rather ask his pardon than he
should ask mine. I rejoice to see you well, madam!
(raising his voice) But what ! — looking at my eyes.
Colds are very rife in London, Sir —
I am glad it is no worse ; for your grandmamma,
and all friends in the country, are well.
I have found a father, Mr. Greville (referring to
Sir Rowland) since I came to town. This good
gentleman gives me leave to call him father.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 135
No son ! — I hope, Sir Rowland, you have no son,
said Mr. Greville : the relation comes not about that
way, I hope. And laughed, as he used to do, at his
own smartness.
The very question, I was going to put, by my soul,
said the baronet.
No ! — said the knight: but I have a nephew, gen
tlemen — a very pretty young fellow ! And I have
this to say before ye all (I am downright Dunsta-
ble) I had much rather call this lady niece than
daughter. And then the knight forced a laugh, and
looked round upon us all.
O Sir Rowland, replied I, I have uncles, more
than one — I am a niece : but I have not had for
many years till now the happiness of a father.
And do you own me, madam, before all this gay
company ? — The first time I beheld you, I remem
ber I called you a perfect paragon. Why, madam,
you are the most excellent of women !
We are so much convinced of this, Sir Rowland,
said the baronet, that I don't know, but Miss
Byron's choosing you for & father, instead of an
uncle, may have saved two or three throats.
And then he laughed. His laugh was the more
seasonable, as it softened the shockingness of his
expression.
Mr. Greville and Sir Hargrave had been in com
pany twice before in Northamptonshire at the races :
but now-and-then looked upon each other with
envious eyes ; and once or twice were at cross-
purposes , but my particular notice of the knight
made all pass lightly over.
Sir Rowland went first away. He claimed one
word with his daughter in the character of ^father.
I withdrew with him to the further end of the
room.
N 2
136 THE HISTORY OF
Not one word of comfort ? not one word, madam ?
—to my boy ? whispered he.
My compliments (speaking low) to my brother,
Sir. I wish him as well and as happy as I think he
deserves to be.
Well but— Well but—
Only remember, Sir Rowland, that you act in
character. 1 followed you hither, on the strength
of your authority, as a. father ; I beg, Sir, that you
will preserve to me that character.
Why God in heaven bless my daughter, if only
daughter you can be. Too well do i understand
you ! I will see how my poor nephew will take it.
If it can be no otherwise, I will prevail upon him,
I think, to go down with me to Caennarthen for a
few months. —But as to those two fine gentlemen,
madam — it would grieve me ('tis a folly to deny it)
to say I have seen the man that is to supplant my
nephew.
/ will act in character, Sir Rowland : as your
daughter, you have a right to know my sentiments
on this subject — You have not yet seen the man
you seem to be afraid of.
You are all goodness, madam — my daughter — and
I cannot bear it !
He spoke this loud enough to be heard ; and Mr.
Greville and the baronet both, with some emotion,
rose, and turned about to us.
Once more, Sir Rowland, said I, my compli
ments to my brother — Adieu !
God in heaven bless you, madam, that's all-
Gentlemen, your servant. Mrs. Reeves, your most
obedient humble servant. Madam, to me, you will
allow me, and my nephew too, one more visit, I
hope, before 1 set out for Caermarthen.
I courtesied, and joined my cousins. Away went
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 137
the knight, brushing the ground with his hat, at
his going out. Mr. Reeves waited on him to the
outward door.
'Bye, 'bye, to you, Mr. Reeves — with some emo
tion (as my cousin told me afterwards) — A wonder
ful creature ! By mercy, a wonderful creature ! — I go
away with my heart full ; yet am pleased ; I know
not why neither, that's the jest of it — 'Bye, Mr.
Reeves, I can stay no longer.
An odd mortal! said the man oftheto'wn — But he
seems to know on which side his bread is buttered.
A whimsical old fellow ! said the man of the coun
try. But I rejoice that he has not a son ; that's all.
A good many frothy things passed not worth re
lating. I wanted them both to be gone. They
seemed each to think it time; but looked as if
neither cared to leave the other behind him.
At last, Mr. Greville, who hinted to me, that he
knew I loved not too long an intrusion, bowed, and,
politely enough, took his leave. And then the
baronet began, with apologizing for his behaviour
at taking leave on his last visit.
Some gentlemen, I said, had one way, some
another, of expressing themselves on particular occa
sions : he had thought fit to shew me what was his.
He seemed a little disconcerted. But quickly
recovering himself, he could not indeed excuse him
self, he said, for having then called me cruel — Cruel
he hoped he should not find me — Proud — I knew
not what pride was. Ungrateful — I could not be
guilty of ingratitude. He begged me to forgive his
peremptoriness — He had hoped (as he had been
assured, that my affections were absolutely disen
gaged) that the proposals he had to make, would
have been acceptable ; and so positive a refusal,
without any one reason assigned, and on his first
visit, had indeed hurt his pride (he owned, he said,
N 3
138 THE HISTORY OF
that he had some pride) and made him forget that
he was addressing himself to a woman who deserved
and met witli the veneration of every one who
approached her. He next expressed himself with
apprehensions on Mr. Greville's arrival in town.
Pie spoke slightly of him. Mr. Greville, I doubt
not, will speak as slightly of Sir Hargrave. And
if I believe them both, I fancy I shall not injure
either.
Mr. Greville's arrival, I said, ought not to con
cern me. He was to do as he thought fit. I was
only desirous to be allowed the same free agenc}^
that I was ready to allow to others.
That could not be, he said. Every man who saw
me, must wish me to be his ; and endeavour to ob
tain his wishes.
And then making vehement professions of love,
he offered me large settlements ; and to put it in my
power to do all the good that he knew it was in my
heart to do — And that I should prescribe to him in
every thing as to place of residence, excursions,
even to the going abroad to France, to Italy, and
wherever I pleased.
To all which I answered as before ; and when he
insisted upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly
told him, though I owned it was with some reluct
ance, that I had not the opinion of his morals that
I must have of those of the man to whom I gave my
hand in marriage.
Of my morals, madam! (starting; and his colour
went and came) My morals, madam! — I thought
he looked with malice : but I was not intimidated :
and yet my cousins looked at me with some little
surprise for my plain dealing, though not as blam
ing me.
Be not displeased, Sir, with my freedom. You
call upon me to make objections. I mean not to
SIR CHARLES GRANDlSON. 139
Upbraid you; that is not -my business; but thus
called upon, I must repeat — I stopt.
Proceed, madam, angrily.
Indeed, Sir Hargrave, you must pardon me on
this occasion, if I repeat that I have not that opinion
of your morals —
very well, madam —
That I must have of those of the man on whose
worthiness I must build my hopes of present happi
ness, and to whose guidance entrust my future
This, Sir, is a very material consideration with me,
though I am not fond of talking upon it, except on
proper occasions, and to proper persons; but, Sir, let
me add that I am determined to live longer single.
I think it too early to engage in a life of care : and
if I do not meet with a man to whom I can give my
whole heart, I never will marry at all [O how ma
liciously looked the man!] — You are angry, Sir
Hargrave, added I; but you have no right to be so.
You address me as one who is her own mistress.
And though I would not be thought rude, I value
myself on my openness of heart.
He arose from his seat. He walked about the
room muttering, " You have no opinion of my
morals' — By heaven, madam! — But I will bear it
all — Yet, "No opinion of my morals!'" — I cannot
bear that —
He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his
head ; and snatching up his hat, bowing to the
ground to us all, his face crimsoned over (as the
time before) he withdrew.
Mr. Reeves attended him to the door—" Not
like my morals !'* said he — I have enemies, Mr.
Reeves. " Not like my morals!" — Miss Byron treats
politely every body but me, Sir. Her scorn may
be repaid — Would to God I could say with scorn,
Mr. Reeves. — Adieu. Excuse my warmth. — Adieu.
140 THE HISTORY OF
And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the
glasses with violence; and, as Mr. Reeves told us,
rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swell
ing. And away it drove.
His menacing airs, and abrupt departure, terrified
me. I did not recover myself in an hour.
A fine husband for your Harriet would this half
madman make! — O Mr. Fowler, Sir Rowland, Mr.
Orme, what good men are you to Sir Hargrave!
Should I have known half so much as I do of his
ill qualities, had I not refused him ? Drawn in by
his professions of love, and by 80001. a year, I
might have married him ; and, when too late, found
myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and madman,
for the remainder of a life begun with happy pro
spects, and glorying in every one's love !
LETTER XX.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Monday, February 13.
I HAVE received my uncle's long letter. And I
thank him for the pains he has taken with me. He
is very good. But my grandmamma and my aunt
are equally so, and, in the main, much kinder,
in acquitting me of some charges which he is
pleasrd to make upon his poor Harriet. But, either
for caution or reproof, I hope to be the better for
his letter.
James is set out for Northamptonshire: pray re
ceive him kindly. He is honest: and Sally has
cjiven me a hint, as if a sweetheart is in his head :
if so, his impatience to leave London may be ac-
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 141
counted for. My grandmamma has observed, that
young people of small or no fortunes should not be
discouraged from marrying: Who that could be
masters or mistresses would be servants? The
honest poor, as she has often said, are a very va
luable part of the creation.
Mr. Reeves has seen several footmen, but none
that he gave me the trouble of speaking to till just
now : when a well-looking young man, about twen
ty-six years of age, offered himself, and whom 1
believe I shall like. Mrs. Reeves seems mightily
taken with him. He is well-behaved, has a very
sensible look, and seems to merit a better service.
Mr. Reeves has written for a character of him to
the last master he lived with; Mr. Bagenhall, a
young gentleman in the neighbourhood of Reading ;
of whom he speaks well in the main ; but modestly
objected to his hours, and free way of life. The
young man came to town but yesterday, and is with
a widow sister, who keeps an inn in Smithfield. I
have a mind to like him, and this makes me more
particular about him.
His name is William Wilson: he asks pretty high
wages : but wages to a good servant are not to be
stood upon. What signify forty or fifty shillings a
year? An honest servant should be enabled to lay
up something for age and infirmity. Hire him at
once, Mrs. Reeves says. She will be answerable
for his honesty from his looks, and from his answers
to the questions asked him
Sir Hargrave has been here again. Mrs. Reeves,
Miss Clements, and I, were in the back room to
gether. We had drank tea; and I excused myself
to his message, as engaged.
He talked a good deal to Mrs. Reeves: sometimes
high, sometimes humble. He had not intended, he
said, to have renewed his visits. My disdain had
14-2 THE HISTORY OF
stung him to the heart: yet he could not keep away.
He called himself names. He was determined I
should be his ; and swore to it. A man of his for
tune to be refused, by a lady who had not (and
whom he wished not to have) an answerable fortune,
and no preferable liking* to any other man [there
Sir Hargrave was mistaken ; for I like almost every
man I know, better than him] ; his person not con
temptible [and then, my cousin says, he surveyed
himself from head to foot in the glass] ; was very,
very unaccountable.
He asked if Mr. Greville came up with any
hopes ?
Mr. Reeves told him that I was offended at his
coming, and he was sure he would not be the bet
ter for his journey.
He was glad of that, he said. There were two
or three free things, proceeded he, said to me in
conversation by Mr. Greville ; which I knew not
well what to make of: but they shall pass, if he
has no more to boast of than I. I know Mr. Gre-
ville's blustering character; but I wish the carrying
of Miss Byron were to depend upon the sword's
point between us. I would not come into so paltry
a compromise with him as Fenwick has done. But
still the imputing want of morals to me, sticks with
me. Surely I am a better man, in point of morals,
than either Greville or Fenwick. What man on
earth does not take liberties with the sex? You
know, Mr. Reeves ! women were made for us ; and
they like us not the worse for loving them. Want
of morals! — And objected to me by a lady ! — Very
extraordinary, by my soul! — Is it not better to sow
all one's wild oats before matrimony, than run riot
afterwards? — What say you, Mr. Reeves?
Mr. Reeves was too patient with him. He is a
mild man: yet wants not spirit, my cousin says, on
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 143
occasion. He gave Sir Hargrave the hearing; who
went away, swearing, that I should be his, in spite
of man or devil.
Monday night.
MR. Greville came in the evening. He begged
to be allowed but ten words with me in the next
room. I desired to be excused. You know, Sir, said
I, that I never complied with a request of this na
ture, at Selby-house. He looked hard at my cou
sins ; and first one, then the other, went out. He
then was solicitous to know what were Sir Har-
grave's expectations from me. He expressed
himself uneasy upon his account. He hoped such
a man as that would not be encouraged. Yet his
ample fortune! — Woman! woman!— But he was
neither a wiser nor a better man than himself; and
he hoped Miss Byron would not give a prefer
ence to fortune merely , against a man who had been
her admirer for so long a time ; and who wanted
neither will nor power to make her happy.
It was very irksome to me, I answered, to be
obliged so often to repeat the same things to him.
I would not be thought affronting to any-body,
especially to a neighbour with whom my friends
were upon good terms: but I did not think myself
answerable to him, or to any one out of my own
family, for my visitors ; or for whom my cousin
Reeves's thought fit to receive as theirs.
Would I give him an assurance, that Sir Har
grave should have no encouragement?
No, Sir, I will not. Would not that be to give
you indirectly a kind of controul over me ? Would
not that be to encourage a hope, that I never 'will
encourage ?
I love not my own soul, madam, as I love you;
I must, and will, persevere. If J thought Sir Har-
144 THE HISTORY OF
frave had the least hope, by the great God of
eaven, I would pronounce his days numbered.
I am but too well acquainted with your rash*
ness, Mr. Greville. What formerly passed between
you and another gentleman, gave me pain enough.
In such an enterprise your own days might be
numbered as well as another's. But I enter not
into this subject — Henceforth be so good as not to
impute incivility to me, if I deny myself to your
visits.
I would have withdrawn —
Dear Miss Byron (stepping between me and the
door) leave me not in anger. If matters mu-st
stand as they were, I hope you can, I hope you
tvill, assure me, that this Sir Fopling —
What right have you, Sir, to any assurance of
this nature from me ?
None, madam — but from your goodness — Dear
Miss Byron, condescend to say, that this Sir Har^
grave shall not make any impression on your heart.
For his sake say it, if not for mine. I know you
care not what becomes of me; yet let not this milk-
faced, and 'tyger-hearted fop, for that is his cha
racter, obtain favour from you. Let your choice,
if it must fall on another man, and riot on me, fall
on one to whose superior merit, and to whose good
fortune, I can subscribe. For your own fame's
sake, let a man of unquestionable honour be the
happy man; and vouchsafe as to a neighbour, and
as to a well-wishing friend only (I ask it not in the
light of a lover) to tell me that Sir Hargrave Pol-
lexfen shall not be the man.
What, Mr. Greville, let me ask you, is your
business in town ?
My chief business, madam, you may guess at. I
had a hint of this man's intentions given me ; and
that he has the vanity to think he shall succeed.
3
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 145
But if I can be assured that you will not be pre
vailed upon in favour of a man, whose fortune is so
ample —
You will then return to Northamptonshire ?
Why, madam, I can't but say that now I am in
town, and that I have bespoke a new equipage, and-
so-forth —
Nay, Sir, it is nothing to me, what you will or
will not do : only be pleased to remember, that as in
Northamptonshire your visits were to my uncle
Selby, not to me, they will be here in London, to
my cousin Reeves's only.
Too well do I know that you can be cruel if you
will : but is it your pleasure that I return to the
country ?
My pleasure, Sir ! — Mr. Greville is surely to do as he
pleases. I only wish to be allowed the same liberty.
You are so very delicate, Miss Byron ! So very
much afraid of giving the least advantage —
And men are so ready to take advantage — But
yet, Mr. Greville, not so delicate as just. I do
assure you, that if I were not determined —
Determined! — Yes, yes! you can be steady \ as
Mr. Selby calls it ! I never knew so determined a
woman in my life. I own, it was a little inconve
nient for me to come to town just now : and say,
that you would wish me to leave London ; and that
neither this Sir Margrave, nor that other man, your
new father's nephew (What do you call him ? Fore-
gad, madam, 1 am afraid of these new relations)
shall make any impression on your heart ; and that
you will not withdraw when I come here ; and I
will set out next week ; and write this very night to
let Fenwick know how matters stand, and that I
am coming down but little the better for my jour
ney: and this may save you seeing your other
tormentor, as your cousin Lucy says you once c,all-
VOL. i. o
146 THE HISTORY OF
ed that poor devil, and the still poorer devil before
you.
You are so rash a man, Mr. Greville (and other
men may be as rash as you), that I cannot say but it
would save me some pain —
O take care, take care, Miss Byron, that you
express yourself so cautiously, as to give no advan
tage to a poor dog, who would be glad to take a
journey to the farthest part of the globe to oblige
you. But what say you about this Sir Hargrave,
and about your new brother? — Let me tell you,
madam, I am so much afraid of those whining, in
sinuating, creeping dogs, attacking you on the side
of your compassion, and be d — n'd to them (Orme
for that) that I must have a declaration. And now,
madam, can't you give it with your usual cau
tion ? Can't you give it, as I put it, as to a neigh
bour, as to a well-wisher, and-so-forth, not as to a
lover ?
Well then, Mr. Greville, as a neighbour, as -a
tvettJvisher ; and since you own it was inconvenient
to your affairs to come up — I advise you to go down
again.
The devil ! how you have hit it ! Your delicacy
ought to thank me for the loop-hole. The condi
tion, madam ; the condition, if I take your neigh
bourly advice ?
Why, Mr. Greville, I do most sincerely declare
to you, as to a neighbour and well-wisher, that I ne
ver yet have seen the man to whom I can think of
giving my hand.
Yes, you have ! By Heaven you have (snatching
my hand): you shall give it to me! — And the strange
wretch pressed it so hard to his mouth, that he
made prints upon it with his teeth.
Oh! cried I, withdrawing my hand, surprised;
and my face, as I could feel, all in a glow.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 147
And Oh ! said he, mimicking (and snatching my
other hand, as I would have run from him) and pat
ting it, speaking through his closed teeth, You may
be glad you have a hand left. By my soul, I could
eat you.
This was your disconsolate, fallen-spirited Gre-
ville, Lucyl
I rushed into the company in the next room. He
followed me with an air altogether unconcerned,
and begged to look at my hand ; whispering to Mrs.
Reeves ; By Jupiter, I had like to have eaten up
your lovely cousin. I was beginning with her hand.
I was more offended with this instance of his as
surance and unconcern, than with the freedom itself;
because that had the appearance of his usual gaiety
with it. I thought it best, however, not to be too
serious upon it. But next time he gets me by him
self, he shall eat up both my hands.
At taking leave, he hoped his mad flight had not
discomposed me. See, Miss Byron, said he, what
you get by making an honest fellow desperate !—
But you insist upon my leaving the town ? As a
neighbour, as a well-wisher, you advise it, madam ?
Come, come, don't be afraid of speaking after me,
when I endeavour to hit your cue.
I do advise you —
Conditions remember ! You know what you have
declared — Angel of a woman! said he again through
his shut teeth.
I left him ; and went up stairs ; glad I had got rid
of him.
He has since seen Mr. Reeves, and told him, he
will make me one visit more before he leaves Lon
don : and pray tell her, said he, that I have actually
written to my brother tormentor Fenwick, that I am
returning to Northamptonshire.
I told you, that Miss Clements was with me when
o 2
148 THE HISTORY OF
Sir Hargrave came last. I like her every time I
see her, better than before. She has a fine under
standing ; and if languages, according to my grand
father's observation, need not be deemed an indis
pensable part of learning, she may be looked upon
as learned.
She has engaged me to breakfast with her to
morrow morning ; when she is to shew me her books,
needleworks, and other curiosities. Shall I not
fancy myself in my Lucy's closet? How continually,
amid all this fluttering scene, dp I think of my dear
friends in Northamptonshire ! Express for me love,
duty, gratitude, every sentiment that fills the heart
of your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER XXL
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Tuesday morning, February 14.
I HAVE passed an agreeable two hours with Miss
Clements, and am just returned. She is extremely
ingenious, and perfectly unaffected. I am told,
that she writes finely ; and is a Madame de Sevigne
to her correspondents. I hope to be one of them.
But she has not, I find, suffered her pen to run
away with her needle ; nor her reading to interfere
with that housewifery which the best judges hold
so indispensable in the character of a good woman.
I revere her for this, as her example may be
produced as one, in answer to such as object (I am
afraid sometimes too justly, but I hope too gener
ally) against learning in women. Methinks, how
ever, I would not have learning the principal dis-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 149
tinction of the woman I love. And yet, where
talents are given, should we wish them to be either
uncultivated or unacknowledged ? Surely, Lucy,
we may pronounce, that where no duty is neglected
for the acquirement ; where modesty, delicacy, and
a teachable spirit, are preserved, as characteristics
of the sex, it need not be thought a disgrace to be
supposed to know something.
Miss Clements is happy as well as your Harriet,
in an aunt, that loves her. She has a mother living,
who is too great a self-lover, to regard any-body
else as she ought. She lives as far off as York,
and was so unnatural a parent to this good child,
that her aunt was not easy till she got her from her.
Mrs. Wimburn looks upon her as her daughter, and
intends to leave her all she is worth.
The old lady was not very well ; but she obliged
us with her agreeable company for half an hour.
Miss Clements and I agreed to fall in occasionally
upon each other without ceremony.
I should have told you, that the last master of the
young man, William Wilson, having given him in
writing a very good character, I have entertained
him ; and his first service was attending on me to
Miss Clements.
Lady Betty called here in my absence. She is,
it seems, very full of the dresses, and mine in parti
cular ; but 1 must know nothing about it, as yet.
We are to go to her house to dress, and to proceed
from thence in chairs. She is to take care of every
thing. You shall know, my Lucy, what figure I
am to make, when I know it myself.
The baronet also called at my cousins while I
was out. He saw only Mr. Reeves. He staid
about a quarter of an hour. He was very moody
and sullen, it seems. Quite another man, Mr.
Reeves said, than he had ever seen him before. Not
o 3
150 THE HISTORY OF
one laugh ; not one smile. All that fell from his
lips was Yes or No ; or by way of invective against
the sex. It was "The devil of a sex." It was a
cursed thing, he said, that a man could neither be
happy with them, nor without them. Devil's baits
was another of his compliments to us. He hardly
mentioned my name.
Mr. Reeves at last began to railly him upon his
moodiness ; and plainly saw, that to avoid shewing
more of his petulance (when he had not a right to
shew any) to a man of Mr. Reeves's consideration,
and in his own house, he went away the sooner.
His footmen and coachman, he believed, had an ill
time of it ; for, without reason, he cursed them,
swore at them, and threatened them.
What does the man haunt us for ? — Why brings
he such odious humours to Mr. Reeves's?
But no more of such a man, nor of any-thingelse,
till my next. Only,
Adieu, my
LUCY.
LETTER XXII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Wednesday morning, February 15.
MR. Greville took leave of us yesterday evening,
in order to set out this morning, on his return home.
He would fain have engaged me for half an hour,
alone ; but I would not oblige him.
He left London, he said, with some regret, be
cause of the fluttering Sir Hargrave, and the creeping
Mr. Fowler: but depended upon my declaration
that I -had not in either of them seen the man I could
encourage. Either of them were the words he
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 151
chose to use; for, in compliment to himself, he
would not repeat my very words, that I had not
yet seen any man to whom I could give my hand.
Shall I give you a few particulars of what passed
between me and this very whimsical man ? — I will.
He had been enquiring, he said, into the charac
ter and pretensions of my brother Fowler ; and in
tended, if he could bring Orme and him together,
to make a match between them, who should out-
whine the other.
Heroes , I told him, ought not to make a jest of
those, who, on comparison, gave them all their ad
vantages.
He bowed, and called himself my servant — and
with an affected laugh, Yet, madam, yet, madam, I
am not afraid of these piping men : though you have
compassion for such watery headed fellows, yet you
have only compassion.
Respectful love, Mr. Greville. is not always the
indication either of a weak head, or a faint heart ;
any more than the contrary is of a true spirit.
Perhaps so, madam. But yet I am not afraid of
these two men.
You have no reason to be afraid of any body, on
my account, Mr. Greville.
I hope not.
You will find, Sir, at last, that you had better
take my meaning. It is obvious enough.
But I have no mind to hang, drown, or pistol
myself.
Mr. Greville still ! — Yet it would be well if there
were not many Mr. Grevilles.
I take your meaning, madam. You have ex
plained it heretofore. It is, that I am a libertine;
that we have all one dialect ; and that I can say
nothing new, or that is worthy of your attention —
152 THE HISTORY OF
There, madam ! May I not be always sure of your
meaning, when I construe it against myself?
I wish, Sir, that my neighbour would give me
leave to behave to him as to my neighbour —
And could you, madam, supposing love out of the
question (which it cannot be), could you, in that
case, regard me as your neighbour ?
Why not, Sir?
Because I believe you hate me ; and I only want
you to tell me that you do.
I hope, Sir, I shall never have reason given me to
hate any man.
But if you hate any one man more than another,
is it not me ? [I was silent] Strange, Mrs. Reeves,
turning to her, that Miss Byron is not susceptible
either of love or hatred !
She is too good to hate any-body ; and as for love,
her time seems not to be yet come.
When it is come, it will come with a vengeance,
I hope.
Uncharitable man ! said I, smiling.
Don't smile: I can't bear to see you smile:
Why don't you be angry at me ? — Angel of a crea
ture ! with his teeth again closed, don't smile : I
cannot bear your bewitching smiles !
The man is out of his right mind, Mrs. Reeves.
I don't choose to stay in his company.
I would have withdrawn. He besought me. to
stay ; and stood between me and the door. I was
angry.
He whimsically stamped — Obliging creature ! —
I besought you to forbear smiling — You frown-
Do, God for ever bless you, my dear Miss Byron,
let me be favoured with another frown.
Strange man! and bold as strange! — I would
have passed to the door, but he set his back against it.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 153
These are the airs, you know, Lucy, for which I
used to shun him.
Pish ! said I, vexed to be hindered from with
drawing.
Another, another such a frown said the confident
man, and I am happy ! — The last has left no trace
upon your features : it vanished before I could well
behold it. Another frown, I beseech you; another
pish —
I was really angry. — Bear witness [looking
around him] Bear witness ! Once did Miss Byron
endeavour to frown : and, to oblige whom ? — Her
Greville !
Mr. Greville, you had better — I stopt. I was
vexed. I knew not what I was going to say.
How better, madam ! Am I not desperate ? — But
had I better ? Say, repeat that again — Had I better
— Better what ?
The man's mad. O my cousins, let me never
again be called to this man.
Mad ! — And so I am. Mad for you. I care not
who knows it Why don't you hate me? He
snatched at my hand; but I started back. You
own that you never yet loved the man who loved
you. Such is your gratitude ! — Say, you hate me.
I was silent, and turned from him peevishly.
Why then (as if I had said I did not hate him)
say you love me ; and I will look down with con
tempt upon the greatest prince on earth.
We should have had more of this — But the rap of
consequence gave notice of the visit of a person of
consideration. It was Sir Hargrave.
The devil pick his bones, said the shocking Gre
ville. I shall not be civil to him.
He is not your guest, Mr. Greville, said I — afraid
that something affronting might pass between two
154? THE HISTORY OP
spirits so unmanageable ; the one in an humour so
whimsical, the other so very likely to be moody.
True, true ; replied he. I will be all silence and
observation. — But I hope you .will not now be
for retiring
It would be too particular, thought I, if I am :
yet I should have been glad to do so.
The baronet paid his respects to every one in a
very set and formal manner ; nor distinguished me.
Silly, as vain ! thought I : Handsome fop ! to ima
gine thy displeasure of consequence to me !
Mr. Greville, said Sir Hargrave, the town I un
derstand is going to lose you.
The town, ^ir Hargrave, cannot be said to have
found me.
How can a man of your gallantry and fortune find
himself employment in the country, in the winter, I
wonder ?
Very easily, when he has used himself to it, Sir
Hargrave, and has seen abroad in greater perfection
than you can have them here, the kind of diversions
you all run after, with so keen an appetite.
In greater perfection! I question that, Mr. Gre
ville : and I have been abroad ; though too early, I
own, to make critical observations.
You may question it, Sir Hargrave , but I don't.
Have we not from Italy the most famous singers,
Mr Greville, and from thence, and from France,
for our money, the most famous dancers in the
world ?
No, Sir. They set^too great a value in Italy, let
me tell you, upon their finest voices, and upon their
finest composers too, to let them turn strollers.
Strollers do you call them ? Ha, ha, ha, hah ! —
Princely strollers, as we reward them ! And as to
composers, have we not Handel ?
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 155
There you say something, Sir Hargrave. But
-you have but one Handel in England : they have
several in Italy.
Is it possible? said every one.
Let me die, said the baronet, with a forced laugh,
if I am not ready to think that Mr. Greville has run
into the fault of people of less genius than himself.
He has got such a taste for foreign performers, that
he cannot think tolerably of those of his own coun
try, be they ever so excellent.
Handel, Sir Hargrave, is not an Englishman:
but I must say, that of every person present, I
least expected from Sir Hargrave Pollexfen this
observation.
[He then returned the baronet's laugh, and not
without an air of mingled anger and contempt.]
Nor I this taste for foreign performances and
compositions from Mr. Greville ; for so long time as
thou hast been a downright country gentleman.
[Indeed, thought I, you seem both to have
changed characters. But I know how it comes
about : let one advance what he will, in the present
humour of both, the other will contradict it. Mr.
Greville knows nothing of music : what he said was
from hearsay: and Sir Hargrave is no better ground
ed in it.]
A downright coimtry gentleman ! repeated Mr.
Greville, measuring Sir Hargrave with his eye, and
putting up his lip.
Why, pr'ythee now, Greville, thou what-shall-I-
call-thee ? thou art not offended, I hope, that we are
not all of one mind ; Ha, ha, ha, hah !
I am offended at nothing you say, Sir Hargrave.
Nor I at any thing you look, my dear, Ha, ha, ha,
hah.
Yet his looks shewed as much contempt for Mr.
Greville as Mr. Greville's did for him. How easily
3
156 THE HISTORY OF
might these combustible spirits have blown each
other up ! Mr. Reeves was once a little appre
hensive of consequences from the airs of both.
Mr. Greville turned from Sir Hargrave to me :
Well, Miss Byron, said he ; but as to what we were
talking about —
This he seemed to say, on purpose, as I thought
by his air, to alarm the baronet.
I beg pardon, said Sir Hargrave ; turning with a
stiff air to me : I beg pardon, Miss Byron, if I have
intruded —
We were talking of indifferent things, Sir Har
grave, answered I — Mere matters of pleasantry.
I was more in earnest than in jest, Miss Byron,
replied Mr. Greville.
We all, I believe, thought you very whimsical,
Mr. Greville, returned I.
What was sport to you, madam, is death to me.
Poor Greville ! Ha, ha, ha, hah (affectedly laugh
ed the baronet) : but I know you are a joker. You
are a man of wit [this a little softened Mr. Greville,
who had begun to look grave upon Sir Hargrave]
Come, pr'ythee, man, give thyself up to me for this
night; and I will carry thee to a private concert;
where none but choice spirits are admitted ; and let
us see if music will not divert these gloomy airs,
that sit so ill upon the face of one of the liveliest
men in the kingdom.
Music ! Ay, if Miss Byron will give us a song,
and accompany it with the harpsichord, I will de
spise all other harmony.
Every one joined in his request : and I was not
backward to oblige them, as I thought the conver
sation bore a little too rough a cast, and was not
likely to take a smoother turn.
Mr. Greville, who always enjoys any jest that
tends to reflect on our sex, begged me to sing that
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 157
whimsical song set by Galliard, which once my
uncle made me sing at Selby-house, in Mr. Gre-
ville's hearing. You were not there, Lucy, that
day, and perhaps may not have the book, as Gal
liard is not a favourite with you.
CA/oe, by all the powers above,
To Damon vow'd eternal love :
A rose adorn'd her sweeter breast;
She on a leaf the vow imprest :
But Zephyr, by her side at play,
Love, voW) and leaf, blew quite away.
The gentlemen were very lively on the occasion ;
and encored it : but I told them, That as they must
be better pleased with the jest on our sex contained
in it, than they could be with the music, I would
not, for the sake of their own politeness, oblige
them.
You will favour us, however, with your Discreet
Lover, Miss Byron, said Mr. Greville. That is a
song written entirely upon your own principles.
Well then I will give you it, said I, set by the
same hand.
THE DISCREET LOVER.
Ye fair, that would be blest in love,
Take your pride a little lower ;
Let the swain whom you approve,
Rather like you, than adore.
Love, that rises into passion.
Soon will end in bate or strife:
But from tender inclination,
Flow the lasting joys of life.
These two light pieces put the gentlemen into
good humour; and a deal of silly stuff was said to
me, by way of compliment, on the occasion, by Sir
Hargrave and Mr. Greville ; not one word of which
I believed.
158 THE HISTORY OF
The baronet went away first, to go to his concert.
He was very cold in his behaviour to me at taking
leave, as he had been all the time.
Mr. Greville soon after left us, intending to set
out this morning.
He snatched my hand at going. I was afraid of
a second savage freedom, and would have with
drawn it. — Only one sigh over it; but one sigh, Oh!
— said he, an Oh, half a yard long — and pressed it
with his lips — But remember, madam, you are
watched ; I have half a dozen spies upon you : and
the moment you find the man you can favour, up
comes your Greville, cuts a throat, and flies his
country.
He stopt at the parlour-door — One letter, Miss
Byron — Receive but one letter, from me.
No, Mr. Greville; but I wish you well.
Wishes ! that, like the bishop's blessing, cost you
nothing. I was going to say No, for you: but you
were too quick. It had been some pleasure to have
denied myself, and prevented the mortification of a
denial from you.
He went away ; every one wishing him a good
journey, and speaking favourably of the odd crea
ture. Mrs. Reeves, in particular, thought fit to
say, that he was the most entertaining of all my
lovers: but if so, what is it they call entertaining?
and what are those others, whom they call my
lovers?
The man, said I, is an immoral man; and had
he not got above blushes, and above being hurt by
love, he could not have been so gay, and so enter
taining, as you call it.
Miss Byron says true, said Mr. Reeves. I never
knew a man who could make a jesting-matter of the
passion in the presence of the object, so very deeply
in love, as to be hurt by a disappointment. There
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 159
sits Mrs. Reeves. Did I ever make a jest of my
love to you, madam ?
No indeed, Sir ; had I not thought you most de
plorably in earnest, you had not had any of my pity.
That's a declaration in point. Either Mr. Orme,
or Mr. Fowler, must be the happy man, Miss
Byron.
Indeed, neither.
But why? They have both good estates. They
both adore you. Sir Hargrave I see you cannot
have. Mr. Greville dies not for you, though he
would be glad to live with you. Mr. Fenwick is a
still less eligible man, I think. Where can you be
better than with one of the two I have named?
You speak seriously, cousin: I will not answer
lightly : but neither of those gentlemen can be the
man: yet I esteem them both because they are
good men.
Well, but don't you pity them?
I don't know what to say to that: you hold, that
pity is but one remove from love: and to say Ipity
a man who professes to love me, because I cannot
consent to be his, carries with it, I think, an air of
arrogance, and looks as if I believed he must be
unhappy without me, when possibly there may be
hundreds of women, with any one of whom he
might be more truly happy.
Well, this is in character from you, Miss Byron :
but may I ask you now, Which of the two gentle
men, Mr. Orme, or Mr. Fowler, were you obliged
to have one of them, would you choose?
Mr. Orme, I frankly answer. Have I not told
Mr. Fowler so ?
Well, then, what are your objections, may I ask,
to Mr. Orme? He is not a disagreeable man in his
person. You own that you think him a good man.
160 THE HISTORY OF
His sister loves you ; and you love her. What is
your objection to Mr. Orme?
I don't know what to say. I hope I should per
form my duty to the man to whom I shall give my
vows, be he who he will ; but I am not in haste to
marry. If a single woman knows her own happiness,
she will find that the time from eighteen to twenty-
four is the happiest part of her life. If she stay
till she is twenty -four, she has time to look about
her, and if she has more lovers than one, is enabled
to choose without having reason, on looking back,
to reproach herself for hastiness. Her fluttering,
her romantic age (we all know something of it, I
doubt) is over by twenty-four, or it will hold too
long : and she is then fit to take her resolutions,
and to settle. I have more than once hinted, that
I should be afraid to engage with one who thinks
too highly of me beforehand. Nothing violent can
be lasting, and I could not bear when I had given
a man my heart with my hand (and they never shall
be separated) that he should behave to me with less
affection than he shewed to me before I was his.
As I wish not now to be made an idol of, I may
the more reasonably expect the constancy due to
friendship, and not to be affronted with his indif
ference after I had given him my whole self. In
other words, I could not bear to have my love
slighted : or to be despised for it, instead of being
encouraged to shew it. And how shall extravagant
passion warrant hopes of this nature — if the man
be not a man of gratitude, of principle, and a man
whose love is founded in reason, and whose object
is mind, rather than person?
But Mr. Orme, replied Mr. Reeves, is all this.
Such, I believe, is his love.
Be it so. But if I cannot love him so well as to
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. J61
wish to be his (a man, I have heard my uncle, as
well as Sir Hargrave, say, is his own ; a woman is a
man's) ; if I cannot take delight in the thought of
bearing my part of the yoke with him ; in the belief,
that, in case of a contrariety of sentiments, I cannot
give up my judgment, in points indifferent, from
the good opinion, I have of his ; what but a fond
ness for the state, and an irksomeness in my
present situation, could bias me in favour of a ny
man ? Indeed, my cousin, I must love the man to
whom I would give my hand, well enough to be
able, on cool deliberation, to ivish to be his wife ;
and for his sake (with my whole heart) choose to
quit the single state, in which I am very happy.
And you are sure that your indifference to Mr.
Orme is not, either directly or indirectly, owing to
his obsequious love of you ; and to the milkiness of
his nature, as Shakespeare calls it?
Very sure ! All the leaning towards him that I
have in preference, as I think, to every other man
who has beheld me with partiality, is, on the-contra-
ry, owing to the grateful sense I have of his respect
to me, and to the gentleness of his nature. Does
not my behaviour to Mr. Greville, to Mr. Fen-
wick, to SirHargrave, compared with my treat
ment of Mr. Orme, and Mr. Fowler, confirm what
I say?
Then you are, as indeed I have always thought
you, a nonsuch of a woman.
Not so ; your own lady, whom you first brought
to pity you, as I have heard you say, is an instance
that I am not.
Well, that's true ; but is she not, at the same time,
an example, that pity melts the soul to love?
1 have no doubt, said Mrs. Reeves, but Miss Byron
may be brought to love the man she can pity.
p3
162 THE HISTORY OF
But, madam, said I, did you not let pity grow
into love, before you married Mr. Reeves?
I believe I did; smiling.
Well then I promise you, Mr. Reeves, when that
comes to be the case with me, I will not give pain
to a man I can like to marry.
Very well, replied Mr. Reeves: and I dare say,
that at last Mr. Orme will be the man. And yet
how you will get off with Sir Hargrave, I cannot
tell. For Lady Betty Williams, this very day, told
me, that he delared to her, he was resolved you
should be his. And she has promised him all her
interest with you, and with us ; and is astonished
that you can refuse a man of his fortune and address,
and who has many, very many, admirers, among
people of the first rank.
The baronet is at the door. I suppose he will
expect to see me.
Wednesday afternoon.
Sir Hargrave is just gone. He desired to talk
with me alone. I thought I might very well decline
obliging him, as he had never scrupled to say to
me all he had a mind to say before my cousins ; and
as he had thought himself of consequence enough
to behave moodily; and even made this request
rather with an air of expectation, than of respect;
and 1 accordingly desired to be excused. He stalk
ed about. My cousins, first one, then the other,
withdrew. His behaviour had not been so agreea
ble, as to deserve this compliance : I was vexed
they did.
He offered, as soon as they were gone, to take
my hand.
I withdrew it.
Madam (said he, very impertinently angry) you
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 163
would not do thus to Mr. Greville: you would not
do thus to any man but me.
Indeed, Sir, I would, were I left alone with him.
You see, madam, that I cannot forbear visiting
you. My heart and soul are devoted to you. I
own I have pride. Forgive me; it is piqued. I did
not believe I should have been rejected by any
lady, who had no dislike to a change of condition ;
and was disengaged. You declare that you are so;
and I am willing, I am desirous, to believe you. —
And yet that Greville —
There he stopt, as expecting me to speak.
To what purpose, Sir Hargrave, do you expect
an answer to what you hint about Mr. Greville? It
is not my way to behave with incivility to any man
who professes a regard for me —
Except to me, madam —
Self-partiality, Sir, and nothing else, could cause
you to make this exception.
Well, madam, but as to Mr. Greville—
Pray, Sir Hargrave —
And pray, Miss Byron —
I have never yet seen the man who is to be my
husband.
By G — said the wretch, fiercely (almost in the
language of Mr. Greville on the like occasion) but
you have — And if you are not engaged in your af
fections, the man is before you.
If this, Sir Hargrave, is all you wanted to say to
me, and would not be denied saying it, it might
have been said before my cousins. I was for leaving
him.
You shall not go. I beg, madam— Putting him
self between me and the door.
What further would Sir Hargrave say [standing
still, and angry] What further would Sir Hargrave
say?
164? THE HISTORY OF
Have you, madam, a dislike to matrimony ?
Whajt right have you, Sir, to ask me this ques
tion?
Do you ever intend to enter into the state ?
Perhaps I may, if I meet with a man to whom I
can give my whole heart.
And cannot that man be I ?— Let me implore you,
madam. I will kneel to you [and down he dropt
on his knees.] I cannot live without you. For
God's sake, madam ! Your pity, your mercy, your
gratitude, your love ! I could not do this before
any-body, unless assured of favour. I implore your
favour.
[Foolish man ! It was plain, that this kneeling
supplication was premeditated.]
0 Sir, what undue humility! — Could I have re
ceived your address, none of this had been necessary.
Your pity, madam, once more, your gratitude,
your mercy, your love.
Pray, Sir, rise.
He swore by his God, that he would not, till I
had given him hope —
No hope can I give you, Sir. It would be cheat
ing, it would be deluding you, it would not be
honest, to give you hope.
You objected to my morals, madam : have you
any other objection ?
Need there any other ?
But I can clear myself.
To God, and to your conscience, then do it, Sir.
I want you not to clear yourself to me.
But, madam, the clearing myself to you, would
be clearing myself to God, and my conscience.
What language is this, Sir ? But you can be
nothing to me : indeed you can be nothing to me — •
Rise, Sir; rise or I leave you.
1 made an effort to go. He caught iny hand ;
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 165
and arose — Then kissed it, and held it between both
his.
For God's sake, madam —
Pray, Sir Hargrave —
Your objections ? I insist upon knowing your
objections. My person, madam — Forgive me, I am
not used to boast— My person, madam —
Pray, Sir Hargrave.
— Is not contemptible. My fortune —
God bless you, Sir, with your fortune.
— Is not inconsiderable. My morals —
Pray, Sir Hargrave ! Why this enumeration to
me?
— Are as unexceptionable as those of most young
men of fashion in the present age.
[I am sorry if this be true, thought I to myself.]
You have reason, I hope, Sir, to be glad of that.
My descent —
Is honourable, Sir, no doubt.
My temper is not bad. I am thought to be a man
of vivacity, and of cheerfulness. — I have courage,
madam — And this should have been seen, had I
found reason to dread a competitor in your favour.
I thought you were enumerating your good qua
lities, Sir Hargrave.
Courage, madam, magnanimity in a man, ma
dam —
Are great qualities, Sir. Courage in a right cause,
I mean. Magnanimity, you know, Sir, is greatness
of mind.
And so it is ; and I hope —
And I, Sir Hargrave, hope you have great reason
to be satisfied with your-self : but it would be very
grievous to me, if I had not the liberty so to act, so
to govern myself, in essential points, as should leave
me as well satisfied with my-se\f.
This, I hope, may be the case, madam, if you
166 THE HISTORY OF
encourage my passion : and let me assure you, that
no man breathing ever loved a woman as I love you.
My person, my fortune, my morals, my descent, my
temper (a man in such a case as this may be allowed
to do himself justice) all unexceptionable ; let me
die if I can account for your — your — your refusal of
me in so peremptory, in so unceremonious a man
ner, slap-dash, as I may say, and not one objection
to make, or which you will condescend to make !
You say, Sir, that you love me above all women:
would you, can you, be so little nice, as to wish to
marry a woman who does not prefer you to all men?
— If you are, let me tell you, Sir, that you have
assigned a reason against yourself, which I think I
ought to look upon as conclusive.
I make no doubt, madam, that my behaviour to
you after marriage, will induce you, in gratitude as
well as justice, to prefer me to all men.
Your behaviour after marriage, Sir ! — Never will
I trust to that, where —
Where what, madam?
No need of entering into particulars, Sir. You
see that we cannot be of the same mind. You, Sir
Hargrave, have no doubt of your merit —
I know, madam, that I should make it the business
as well as pleasure of my life, to deserve you.
You value yourself upon you? fortune, Sir —
Only as it gives me power to make you happy.
Riches never yet, of themselves, made any-body
happy. I have already as great a fortune as I wish
for. You think yourself polite. —
Polite, madam ! — And I hope —
The whole of what I mean, Sir Hargrave, is this :
you have a very high opinion of yourself: you may
have reason for it ; since you must know yourself,
and your own heart, better than I can pretend to
do : but would you, let me ask you, make choice of
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 167
a woman for a wife, who frankly owns, that she
cannot think so highly, as you imagine she ought to
think of you ? — In justice to yourself, Sir —
By my soul, madam, haughtily, you are the only
woman who could thus —
Well, Sir, perhaps I am. But will not this singu
larity convince you, that I can never make you
happy, nor you me ? You tell me that you think
highly of me; but if I cannot think so highly of you,
pray, Sir, let me be intitled to the same freedom
in my refusal that governs you in your choice.
He walked about the room; and gave himself airs
that shewed greater inward than even outward emo
tion.
I had a mind to leave him ; yet was not willing to
withdraw abruptly, intending, and hoping, to put an
end to all his expectations for the future. I there
fore in a manner asked for leave to withdraw.
I presume, Sir, that nothing remains to be said
but what may be said before my cousins. And,
courtesying, was going.
He told me with a passionate air, that he was half-
distracted; and complained of the use I made of the
power I had over him. And as I had near opened
the door, he threw himself on his knees to me against
it, and undesignedly hurt my finger with the lock.
He was grieved. I made light of it, though in
pain, that he might not have an opportunity to
flourish upon it, and to show a tenderness which I
doubt is not very natural to him.
How little was I affected with his kneeling, to
what I was with the same posture in Sir Rowland !
Sir Hargrave supplicated me as before. I was
forced in answer to repeat some of the same things
that I had said before.
I would fain have parted civilly. He would not
permit me to do so. Though he was on his knees, he
168 THE HISTORY OF
mingled passion, and even indirect menaces,
his supplications. I was forced to declare, that I
never more would receive his visits.
This declaration he vowed would make him des
perate, and he cared not what became of him.
I often begged him to rise; but to no purpose, till
I declared that I would stay no longer with him : and
then he arose, rapt out an oath or two ; again called
me proud and ungrateful; and followed me into the
other room to rny cousins. He could hardly be civil
to them: he walked two or three turns about the
room : at last, Forgive me, Mr. Reeves, forgive me,
Mrs. Reeves, said he, bowing to them ; more stiffly
to me — And you forbid my future visits, madam,
said he, with a face of malice.
I do, Sir ; and that for both our sakes. You have
greatly discomposed me.
Next time, madam, I have the honour of attend
ing you, it will be, I hope — [he stopt a moment,
but still looking fiercely] to a happier purpose.
And away he went.
Mr. Reeves was offended with him, and discour
aged me not in my resolution to avoid receiving
his future visits. You will now therefore hear very
little farther in my letters of this Sir Hargrave Pol-
lexfen.
And yet I wish I do not see him very soon. But
it will be in company enough if I do : at the mas
querade, I mean, to-morrow night; for he never
misses going to such entertainments.
Our dresses are ready. Mr. Reeves is to be a
hermit ; Mrs. Reeves a nun ; Lady Betty a lady ab
bess : but I by no means like mine, because of its
gaudiriess : the very thing I was afraid of.
They call it the dress of an Arcadian princess :
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 169
but it falls not in with any of my notions of the
pastoral dress of Arcadia.
A white Paris net sort of a cap, glittering with
spangles, and incircled by a chaplet of artificial
flowers, with a little white feather perking from the
left ear, is to be my head-dress.
My masque is Venetian.
My hair is to be complimented with an appear
ance, because of its natural ringlets, as they call my
curls, and to shade my neck.
Tucker and ruffles blond lace.
My shape is also said to be consulted in this
dress. A kind of waistcoat of blue satin trimmed
with silver point d'Espagne, the skirts edged with
silver fringe, is made to sit close to my waist by
double clasps, a small silver tassel at the end of
each clasp ; all set off with bugles and spangles,
which make a mighty glitter.
But I am to be allowed a kind of scarf of white
Persian silk ; which, gathered at the top, is to be
fastened to my shoulders; and to fly loose behind
me.
Bracelets on my arms.
They would have given me a crook ; but I would
not submit to that. It would give me, I said, an
air of confidence to aim to manage it with any tole
rable freedom; and I was apprehensive, that I should
not be thought to want that from the dress itself.
A large Indian fan was not improper for the ex
pected warmth of the place ; and that contented
me.
My petticoat is of blue satin, trimmed and
fringed as my waistcoat. I am not to have a hoop
that is perceivable. They wore not hoops in
Arcadia.
What a sparkling figure shall I make ! Had the
ball been what they call a subscription ball, at which
Q
170 THE HISTORY OP
people dress with more glare than at a common one,
this dress would have been more tolerable.
But they all say, that I shall be kept in counte
nance by masques as extravagant, and even more
ridiculous.
Be that as it may, I wish the night was over. I
dare say, it will be the last diversion of this kind I
ever shall be at ; for I never had any notion of mas
querades.
Expect particulars of all in my next. I reckon
you will be impatient for them. But pray, my
Lucy, be fanciful, as I sometimes am, and let me
know how you think every-thing will be before
hand ; and how many pretty -fellows you imagine,
in this dress, will be slain by your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER XXIII.
MR. REEVES TO GEORGE SELBY, ESQ.
DEAR MR. SELBY, Friday, February 17.
No one, at present, but yourself, must see the con
tents of what I am going to write.
You must not be too much surprised.
But how shall I tell you the news ; the dreadful
news ? — My wife has been ever since three this
morning in violent hysterics upon it.
You must not — But how shall 1 say, you must
not, be too much affected, when we are unable to
support ourselves ?
0 my cousin Selby ! — We know not what is be
come of our dearest Miss Byron !
1 will be as particular as my grief and surprise
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 171
will allow. There is a necessity for it, as you will
find.
Mr. Greville, as I apprehend — But to particulars
first.
'We were last night at the ball in the Hay-market.
The chairmen who carried the dear creature, and
who, as well as our chairmen, were engaged for the
night, were inveigled away to drink somewhere.
They promised Wilson, my cousin's servant, to
return in half an hour.
It was then but little more than twelve.
Wilson waited near two hours, and they not re
turning, he hired a chair to supply their place.
Between two and three, we all agreed to go home.
The dear creature was fatigued with the notice
every-body took of her. Every -body admired her.
She wanted to go before ; but Lady Betty prevailed
on her to stay a little longer.
I waited on her to her chair, and saw her in it be
fore I attended Lady Betty and my wife to theirs.
I saw that neither the chair, nor the • chairmen,
were those who brought her. I asked the mean
ing ; and received the above particulars after she
was in the chair.
She hurried into it because of her dress, and
being warm, and no less than four gentlemen fol
lowing her to the very chair.
It was then near three.
I ordered Wilson to bid the chairmen stop when
they had got out of the crowd, till Lady Betty's
chair and mine, and my wife's, joined them.
I saw her chair move, and Wilson with his lighted
flambeaux before it ; and the four masques who fol
lowed her to the chair return into the house.
When our servants could not find that her chair
had stopt, we supposed that in the hurry, the fellow
heard not my orders ; and directed our chairmen to
172 THE HISTORY OF
proceed ; not doubting but we should find her got
home before us .
We had before agreed to be carried directly
home : declining Lady Betty's invitation to resume
our own dresses at her house, where we dressed for
the ball.
We were very much surprised at finding her not
arrived : but concluding, that, by mistake, she was
carried to Lady Betty's, and was there expecting us,
we sent thither immediately.
But, good God! what was our consternation, when
the servants brought us word back, that Lady Betty
had not either seen or heard of her !
Mr. Greville, as I apprehend —
But let me give you all the lights on which I
ground my surmises.
Last night Lady Betty Williams had a hint given
her, as she informed me at the masquerade, that
Mr. Greville, who took leave of my cousin on Tues
day evening in order to set out for Northampton
shire the next morning, was neither gone, nor in
tended to go ; being, on the contrary, resolved to
continue in town perdue, in order to watch my
cousin's visiters.
He had indeed told her, that she would have half
a dozen spies upon her ; and threw out some hints
of jealousy of two of her visiters.
Sir Hargrave Pollexfen in a harlequin dress was
at the ball : he soon discovered our lovely cousin,
and notwithstanding his former ill-nature on being
rejected by her, addressed her with the politeness
of a man accustomed to public places.
He found me out at the side-board a little before
we went off; and asked me, if I had not seen Mr.
Greville there ? I said, No.
He asked me, if I had not observed a masque dis
tinguished by a board-brimmed half-slouched hat,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 1?3
with a high flat crown, a short black cloak, a dark
lantern in his hand, holding it up to every one's
masque ; and who, he said, was saluted by every
body as Guido Vaux ? That person he said was
Mr. Greville.
I did indeed observe this person ; but recollected
not, that he had the air of Mr. Greville; but thought
him a much more bulky man. But that, as he in
tended to have it supposed he had left the town,
might be easily managed.
Mr. Greville, you know, is a man of enterprize.
He came to town, having professedly no other
material business but to give obstruction to my
cousin's visiters. He saw she had two new ones.
He talked at first of staying in town, and partaking
of its diversions, and even of bespeaking a new
equipage.
But all of a sudden, though expecting Mr. Fen-
wick would1 come up, he pretended to leave the
town, and to set out directly for Northamptonshire,
without having obtained any concession from my
cousin in his favour.
Laying all these circumstances together, I think
it is hardly to be doubted, but Mr. Greville is at the
bottom of this black affair.
You will therefore take such steps on these lights
as your prudence will suggest to you. If Mr. Gre
ville is not come down — If Mr. Fenwick — what
would I say ?
The less noise, however, the affair makes, till we
can come at certainty, the better.
How I dread what that certainty may be ! — Dear
creature !
But I am sure you will think it advisable to keep
this dreadful affair from her poor grandmother.
And I hope your good lady — Yet her prudent ad
vice may be necessary.
Q3
174 THE HISTORY OF
I- have six people out at different parts of the
town, who are to make enquiries among chairmen,
coachmen, &c.
Her new servant cannot be a villain — What can
one say ? — What can one think ?
We have sent to his sister, who keeps an inn in
Smithfield. She has heard nothing of him,
I have sent after the chairmen who carried her
to this cursed masquerade. Lady Betty's chairmen,
who had provided the chairs, knew them, and their
number. They were traced with a fare from White's
to Berkeley-square.
Something may be discovered by means of those
fellows, if they were tampered with. They are
afraid, I suppose, to come to demand their but
half-earned money. Woe be to them if they come
out to be rascals !
I had half a suspicion of Sir Hargrave, as well
from the character given us of him by a friend of
mine, as because of his unpolite behaviour to the
dear creature on her rejecting him : and sent to his
house in Cavendish -square, to know if he were at
home ; and if he were, at what time he returned
from the ball.
Answer was brought, that he was in bed, and
they supposed would not be stirring till dinner-time,
when he expected company : and that he returned
not from the ball till between four and five this
morning.
We sent to Mr. Greville's lodgings. He has ac
tually discharged them ; and the people think (as
he told them so) that he is set out for the country.
But he is master of contrivances enough to manage
this. There can be no thought that he would give
out otherwise to them, than he did to us. Happy !
had we found him not gone.
Mr. Greville must be the man !
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 175
You will be so good, as to dispatch the bearer
instantly with what information can be got about
Mr. Greville.
Ever, ever yours !
ARCHIBALD REEVES.
LETTER XXIV.
MR. SELBY TO ARCHIBALD REEVES, ESQ.
[Jn answer to the preceding.]
Saturday, February 18.
O Mr. Reeves ! — Dear sweet child ! — Flower of the
world ! —
But how could I keep such dreadful tidings within
my own breast ? —
How could I conceal my consternation? — My
wife saw it. She would know the cause of it.
I could not tell her the fatal news — Fatal news
indeed ! It will be immediate death to her poor
grandmother —
We must keep it from her as long as we can ! —
But keep it from her ! — And is the dearest creature
spirited away? — O Mr. Reeves ! —
I gave my wife your letter She fainted away,
before she had read it through.
Masquerades, I have generally heard said, were
more silly than wicked : but they are now, I am
convinced, the most profligate of all diversions.
Almost distracted, cousin! — You may well be so :
we shall all be quite distracted— Dear, dear creature!
What may she not have suffered by this time ?
Why parted we with such a jewel out of our sight?
You would not be denied : you would have her to
that cursed town.
176 THE HISTORY OF
Some damned villain, to be sure I — Greville it is
not.
Greville was seen late last night, alighting at his
own house from a post-chaise. He had nobody with
him.
In half an hour, late as it was, he sent his com
pliments to us to let us know that he had left the
dear child well, and (in his usual style) happier than
she would make him. He knows that our lives are
bound up in hers.
Find out where she is : and find her safe and
well : or we will never forgive those who were the
cause of her going to London.
Dear soul ! She was over persuaded! — She was
not fond of going !
The sweetest, obliging creature !— What is now
become of her ! — What by this time may she not
have suffered ! —
Search every-where — But you will, no doubt! —
Suspect every-body — This Lady Betty Williams —
Such a plot must have a woman in it. Was she
not Sir Hargrave's friend? — This Sir Hargrave —
Greville it could not be. Had we not the proof I
mentioned, Greville, bad as he is, could not be such
a villain.
The first moment you have any tidings, bad or
good, spare no expence —
Greville was this moment here.
We could not see him. We did not let him know
the matter.
He is gone away, in great surprise, on the ser
vants telling him that we had received some bad
news, which made us unfit to see any-body. The
servants could not tell him what : yet they all guess
by your livery, and by our grief, that something has
befallen their beloved young lady. r They are all in
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 177
tears — and they look at us, when they attend us,
with such inquisitive, yet silent grief! — We are
speechless before them; and tell them our wills by
motions, and not by words.
Good God! — After so many happy years! — Hap
py in ourselves! to be at last in so short a time
made the most miserable of wretches !
But this had not been, if — But no more — Good
God of heaven, what will become of poor Mrs.
Shirley ! — Lucy, Nancy, will go distracted — But no
more — Hasten your next — And forgive this dis
tracted letter. I know not what I have written. But
I am
Yours,
GEORGE SELBY.
LETTER XXV.
MR REEVES TO GEORGE SELBY, ESQ.
[/« continuation of Letter XXIII.]
LADY Betty's chairmen have found out the first
chairmen.
The fellows were made almost dead drunk. They
are sure something was put into their liquor. They
have been hunting after the footmen, who enticed
them, and drank them down. They describe their
livery to be brown, trimmed and turned up with
yellow ; and are in the service of a merchant's relict,
who lives either in Mark-lane, or Mincing-lane ; they
forgot which ; but have not yet been able to find
them out. Their lady, they said, was at the mas
querade. They were very officious to scrape ac
quaintance with them. We know not any-body who
gives this livery : so no lights can be obtained by
this part of the information. A cursed deep-laid
178 THE HISTORY OF
villany ! — The fellows are resolved, they say, to find
out these footmen, if above ground; and the chair
men who were hired on their failure.
Every hour we have one messenger or other re
turning with something to say ; but hitherto with
nothing to the purpose. This has kept me within.
O Mr. Selby, I know not what to direct ! I know-
not what to do ! I send them out again as fast as
they return : yet rather show my despair, than my
hope.
Surely this villany must be Mr. Greville's.
Though I have but just dispatched away my ser
vant to you, I am impatient for his return.
I will write every hour, as any-thing offers, that I
may have a letter ready to send you by another man,
the moment we hear any-thing. And yet I expect
not to hear any-thing material, but from you.
We begin to suspect the servant (that Wilson)
whom my cousin so lately hired. Were lie clear of
the matter, either he, or the chairmen he hired,
must have been heard of. He would have return
ed. They could not all three be either murdered
or secreted.
These cursed masquerades ! — Never will I —
***
O Mr. Selby ! Her servant is, must be a villain ! —
Sarah, my dear cousin's servant (my poor wife can
think of nothing. She is extremely ill) Sarah took it
into her head to have the specious rascal's trunk
broke open. It felt light, and he had talked, but the
night before, of his stock of clothes and linen, to the
other servants. There was nothing of value found in
it ; not of six-pence value. The most specious villain,
if a villain. Every-body liked him. The dear crea
ture herself was pleased with him. He knew every
thing and every-body — Cursed be he for his adroit-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 179
ness and knowledge ! We had made too many en
quiries after a servant for her.
Eleven o'clock.
I am just returned from Smithfield. From the
villain's sister. He conies out to be a villain — This
Wilson I mean — A practised villain !
The woman shook her head at the enquiry which
I made, half out of breath, after what was become
of him. She was afraid, she said, that all was not
right : but was sure her brother had not robbed.
He had been guilty, I said, of a villany that was
a thousand times worse than robbery.
She was inquisitive about it ; and I hinted to her
what it was.
Her brother, she said, was a young man of parts
and understanding, and would be glad, she was sure,
of getting a livelihood by honest services. It was a
sad thing that there should be such masters in the
world, as would put servants upon bad practices.
I asked after the character of that Bagenhall,
whose service -her brother last lived in ? and impru
dently I threatened her brother.
Ah, Sir ! was all the answer she made, shaking
her head.
I repeated my question, Who was that Bagen
hall ?—
Excuse me, Sir, said she. I will give no other
answer, till I hear whether my brother's life may be
in danger or not. She abhorred, she said, all base
practices as much as any -body could do : and she
was sorry for the lady, and for me.
I then offered to be the making of her brother,
were it possible to engage him before any violence
was done to the lady. I asked, if she knew where
to send to him ?
Indeed she did not. She dared to say, she should
180 THE HISTORY Of
not hear of him for one while. Whenever he had
been drawn in to assist in any out-of-the-way pranks
[see, Mr. Selby, a practised villain ! ] he kept away
from her till all was blown over. Those who would
take such steps, she feared, would by this time have
done the mischief.
How I raved !
I offered her money, ahandsome sum, if she would
tell me what she knew of that Bagenhall, or of any
of her brother's employers : but she refused to say
one word more, till she knew whether her brother's
life were likely to be affected or not.
I left her, and hastened home, to enquire after
what might have happened in my absence : but will
soon see her again, in hopes she may be wrought
upon to drop some hints, by which something may
be discovered — But all this time, What may be the
fate of the dear sufferer ! — I cannot bear my own
thoughts !
Lady Betty is inexpressibly grieved —
I have dispatched a man and horse (God knows
to what purpose) to a friend I have at Reading, to
get him to enquire after the character of this Ba-
genhall. There is such a man, and he is a man of
pleasure, as Sir John Allestree informs me — Ac
cursed villain, this Wilson! He could not bear with
his master's constant bad hours, and profligate
course of life, as he told our servants, and Mrs.
Sarah ! — Specious impostor !
One o'clock.
Lady Betty's chairmen have found out, and
brought with them, one of the fellows whom that
vile Wilson hired. The other was afraid to come. I
have secured this fellow: yet he seems to be inge
nuous : and I have promised, that if he prove inno
cent, he shall be rewarded instead of being punished:
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOtf. 181
and the two chairmen, on this promise, are gone to
try to prevail upon his partner to come, were it but
to release the other, as both insisted upon their in
nocence.
And now will you be Impatient to know what ac
count this fellow gives.
O Mr. Selby ! The dear, dear creature — But be*
fore I can proceed, I must recover my eyes.
Two o'clock.
This fellow's name is Macpherson. His partner's
M'Dermot. This is Macpherson's account of the
matter.
Wilson hired them to carry his young lady to
Paddington— To Paddington ! A vile dog ! —
They objected distance and danger ; the latter, as
Macpherson owns, to heighten the value of the ser
vice.
As to the danger, Wilson told him, they would be
met by three others of his fellow-servants, armed, at
the first fields : and as to the distance, they would be
richly rewarded ; and he gave them a crown apiece
earnest, and treated them besides with brandy.
To prevent their curiosity, and entirely to remove
their difficulties, the villain told them, that his young
lady was an heiress, and had agreed to go off from
the masquerade with her lover : but that the gentle
man would not appear to them till she came to the
very house, to which she was to be conveyed.
She thinks, said the hellish villain, that she is to be
carried to May-Fair chapel, and to be married di
rectly ; and that the minister (unseasonable as the
hour is) will be there in readiness. But the gentle
man, who is a man of the utmost honour, intends
first to try whether he cannot obtain her friends'
consent. So when she finds her way lengthened, pro
ceeded the vile wretch, she will perhapsbefrightened
VOL. I. R
182 THE HISTORY OF
and will ask me questions. I would not for the world
disoblige her ; but here she must be cheated for her
own sake ; and when all is over, will value me the
more for the innocent imposture. But whatever or
ders she may give you, observe none but mine, and
follow me. You shall be richly rewarded, repeated
the miscreant. Should she even cry out, mind it not :
she is full of fears, and hardly holds in one mind for
an hour together.
He farther cautioned them not to answer any
questions which might possibly be asked of them, by
the person who should conduct his young lady to
her chair ; but refer to himself: and in case any other
chairs were to go in company with hers, he bid them
fall behind, and follow his flambeau.
Macpherson says, that she drew the curtains close
(because of her dress, no doubt) the moment I had
left her, after seeing her in the chair.
The fellows, thus prepossessed and instructed,
speeded away, without stopping for our chairs. Yet
my cousin must have heard me give that direction.
They had carried her a great way before she
called out : and then she called three times before
they would hear her : at the third time they stopt,
and her servant asked her commands. Where am I,
William? Just at home, madam, answered he.
Surely you have taken a strange round-about way.
We are come about, said the rascal, on purpose to
avoid the crowd of chairs and coaches.
They proceeded onwards, and were joined by
three men, as Wilson had told them they would ;
but they fancied one of them to be a gentleman ; for
he was muffled up in a cloak, and had a silver-hilted
sword in his hand : but he spake not. He gave no
directions : and all three kept aloof, that they might
not be seen by her.
At Marybone,she again called out; William, Wil-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 183
liam, said she, with vehemence: the Lord have
mercy upon me ! Where are you going to carry me ?
Chairmen, stop ! Stop chairmen ! Set me down !—
William ! — Call my servant, chairmen I—
Dear soul! Her servant! Her devil!
The chairmen called him. They lifted up the
head. The side-curtains were still drawn, and
M'Dermot stood so close, that she could not see far
before her. Did you not tell me, said the villain to
them, that it was not far about ? — See how you have
frighted my lady !— Madam, we are now almost at
home.
They proceeded with her, saying, they had indeed
mistaken their way ; but they were just there, and
hurried on.
She then undrew the side-curtains — Good God of
heaven protect me ! they heard her say — I am in the
midst of fields — They were then at Lissom Green.
They heard her pray ; and Macpherson said, he
began then to conclude, that the lady was too much
frightened, and too pious to be in a love-plot.
But, nevertheless, beckoned by their villanous
guide, they hurried on : and then she screamed out,
and happening to see one of the three men, she
begged his help for God's sake.
*The fellow blustered at the chairmen, and bid
them stop. She asked for Grosvenor Street. She
was to be carried, she said, to Grosvenor Street.
^She was just there, that fellow said — If can't be,
Sn* ! it can't be ! — Don't I see fields all about me ?—
I am in the midst of fields, Sir.
Grosvenor Square, madam, replied that villain; the
trees and garden of Grosvenor Square.
What a strange way have you come about, cried
her miscreant ! And then trod out his flambeau ;
while another fellow took the chairmen's lantern
R 2
184? THE HISTORY OF
from them ; and they had only a little glimmering
star-light to guide them.
She then, poor dear soul ! screamed so dismally,
that Macpherson said, it went to his heart to hear
her. But they following Wilson, who told them they
were just landed, that was his word, he led them up
a long garden-walk, by a back way. One of the three
men having got before, opened the garden-door, and
held it in his hand ; and by the time they got to the
house to which the garden seemed to belong, the
dear creature ceased screaming.
They too well saw the cause, when they stopt with
her. She was in a fit.
Two women, by the assistance of the person in the
cloak, helped her out, with great seeming tenderness.
They said something in praise of her beauty, and
expressed themselves concerned for her, as if they
were afraid she was past recovery : which apparently
startled the man in the cloak.
Wilson entered the house with those who carried
in the dear creature ; but soon came out to the chair
men. They saw the man in the cloak (who hung
about the villain and hugged him, as in joy) give the
rascal money; who then put a guinea into each of
their hands ; and conveyed them through the garden
again, to the door at which they entered; but refused
them light, even so much as that of their own candle
and lantern. However, he sent another man with
them, who led them over rough and dirty by-ways
into a path that pointed London-ward ; but plainly
so much about with design to make it difficult for
them to find out the place again.
* *
The other fellow is brought hither. He tells ex
actly the same story.
I asked of both, what sort of a man he in the cloak
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 185
was: but he so carefully muffled himself up, and so
little appeared to them, either walking after them,
or at the house, that I could gain no light from their
description.
On their promise to be forth-coming, I have suf
fered them to go with Lady Betty's chairmen to try
if they can trace out their own footsteps, and find
the place.
How many hopeless things must a man do, in an
exigence, who knows not what is right to be done !
* *
I have enquired of Lady Betty, who it was that told
her, Mr. Greville was not gone out of town, but in
tended to lie perdue ; and she named her informant.
I asked how the discourse came in ? She owned, a
little awkwardly. I asked whether that lady knew
Mr. Greville ? She could not say whether she did, or
not.
I went to that lady : Mrs. Preston, in New Bond
Street. She had her intelligence, she told me, from
SirHargravePollexfen ; who had hinted to her, that
he should take such notice of Mr. Greville, as might
be attended with consequences; and she was the rea
dier to intimate this to Lady Betty, in order to pre
vent mischief.
Now, Mr. Selby, as the intimation that the dark*
lantern figure at the masquerade was Mr. Greville,
came from Sir Hargrave, and nobody else ; and we
saw nothing of him ourselves ; how do we know—
And yet Mr. Greville intended that we should be
lieve him to be out of town. — Yet even that intima
tion came from Sir Hargrave — And furthermore,
was it not likely that he would take as much care to
conceal himself from Sir Hargrave, as from us ? — •
But I will go instantly to Sir Hargrave's house. He
was to dine at home, and with company. If I cannot
R 3
J86 THE HISTORY OP
see him; if he should be absent — But no more till
I return.
* *
0 Mr. Selby ! I believe I have wronged Mr. Gre-
ville. The dear soul, I am afraid, is fallen into even
worse hands than his.
1 went to Sir Hargrave's house. He was not at
home. He was at home. He had company with him.
He was not to be spoken with. These were the dif
ferent answers given me by his porter, with as much
confusion as I had impatience ; and yet it was evident
to me, that he had his lesson given him. In short, I
have reason to think, that Sir Hargrave came not
home all night. The man in the cloak, I doubt, was
he. Now does all that Sir John Allestree said of the
malicious wickedness of this devilish man, and his
arrogant behaviour to our dear Miss Byron, on her
rejecting him, come fresh into my memory. And is
ghe, can she be, fallen into the power of such a man ?
—Rather, much rather, may my first surmises prove
true. Greville is surely (exceptionable as he is) a
better man, at least a better-natured man, than this ;
and he can have no thoughts less honourable than
marriage: but this villairi, if he be the villain — I can
not, I dare not, pursue the thought.
* *
The four chairmen are just returned. They think
they have found the place; but having gained some
intelligence (intelligence which distracts me !) they
»urried back for directions.
They had asked a neighbouring alehouse-keeper,
1 there were not a long garden (belonging to the
ouse they suspected) and a back-door out of it to a
rty lane and fields. He answered in the affirmative.
ic front of this house faces the road.
They called for some hot liquors ; and asked the
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 187
landlord after the owners. Heknew nothing of harm
of them, he said. They had lived there near a twelve
month in reputation. The family consisted of a widow,
whose name is Awberry, her son, and two daughters.
The son (a man of about thirty years of age) has a
place in the Custom-house, and only came down on
a Saturday, and went up on Monday. But an odd
circumstance, he said, had alarmed him that very
morning.
He was at first a little shy of telling what it was.
He loved, he said, to mind his own business : what
other people did was nothing to him : but, at last, he
told them, that about six o'clock in the morning he
was waked by the trampling of horses; and looking
out of his window, saw a chariot-and-six, and three
or four men on horseback, at the widow Awberry 's
door. He got up. The footmen and coachmen were
very husk, not calling for a drop of liquor, though his
doors were open ; a rare instance, he said, where
there were so many men-servants together, and a
coachman one of them. This, he said, could not but
give a greater edge to his curiosity.
About seven o'clock, one of the widow's daugh
ters came to the door, with a lighted candle in her
hand, and directed the chariot to drive up close to
the house. The alehouse-keeper then slipt into an
arbour-like porch, next door to the widow's ; where
he had not been three minutes before he saw two
persons come to the door ; the one a tall gentleman
in laced clothes, who hadhis arms about the other, a
person of middling stature, wrapt up in a scarlet
cloak ; and resisting, as one in great distress, the
other's violence; and begging not to be put into the
chariot, in a voice and accent that evidently shewed
it was a woman.
The gentleman made vehement protestations of
188 THE HISTORY OF
honour ; but lifted the lady into the chariot. She
struggled, and seemed to be in agonies of grief; and
on being lifted in, and the gentleman going in after
her, she screamed out for help ; and he observed in
the struggling, that she had on, under her cloak,
a silver-laced habit [the masquerade habit, no
doubt!]: her screaming grew fainter and fainter,
and her voice sounded to him as if her mouth were
stopped : and the gentleman seemed to speak high,
as if he threatened her.
Away drove the chariot. The servants rode after it.
In about half an hour, a coach and four came to
the widow's door ; the widow and her two daughters
went into it, and it took the same road.
The alehouse-keeper had afterwards the curiosity
to ask the maid-servant, an ignorant country wench,
whither her mistresses went so early in the morning?
She answered they were gone to Windsor, or that
way, and would not return, she believed, in a week.
0 this damned Sir Hargrave ! He has a house
upon the forest. I have no doubt but he is the villain.
Who knows what injuries she might have sustained
before she was forced into the chariot ? — God give
me patience ! Dear soul ! Her prayers ! Her strug
gling ! Her crying out for help ! Her mouth stopt !
O the villain !
1 have ordered as many men and horses as two of
my friends can furnish me with, to be added to two
of my own (we shall be nine in all) to get ready with
all speed. I will pursue the villain to the world's end,
but I will find him.
Our first course shall be to his house at Windsor.
If we find him not there, we will proceed to that
Bagenhall's, near Reading.
It would be but losing time, were I to go now to
Paddington. And when the vile widow and her
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 189
daughters are gone from home, and only an ignorant
wench left, what can we learn of her more than is
already told us ?
I have, however, accepted Lady Betty's offer of
her steward's going with the two chairmen, to get
what farther intelligence he can from Paddington,
against my return.
I shall take what I have written with me, to form
from it a letter less hurrying, less alarming, for your
perusal, than this that I have written at such snatches
of time, and under such dreadful uncertainties, would
be to you, were I to send it ; that is to say, if I have
time, and if I am able to write with any certainty —
O that dreaded certainty !
At four in the morning the six men I borrow, and
myself, and two of my servants, well armed, are to
rendezvous at Hyde-Park Corner. It is grievous that
another night must pass. But so many people cannot
be got together as two or three might.
My poor wife has made me promise to take the as
sistance of peace-officers, wherever I find either the
villain, or the suffering angel.
Where the road parts we shall divide, and enquire
at every turnpike ; and shall agree upon our places of
meeting.
I am harassed to death : but my mind is the great
est sufferer.
* *
O my dear Mr. Selby ! We have tidings-~God be
praised, we have tidings — Not so happy indeed as
were to be wished : yet the dear creature is living,
and in honourable hands — God be praised !
Read the inclosed letter directed to me.
SIR,
Miss Byron is in safe and honourable hands.
The first moment she could give any account of
190 THE HISTORY Off
herself, she besought me to quiet your heart, and
your lady's, with this information.
She has been cruelly treated.
Particulars, at present, she cannot give.
She was many hours speechless.
But don't fright yourselves: her fits, though not
less frequent, are weaker and weaker.
The bearer will acquaint you who my brother is ;
to whom you owe the preservation and safety of the
loveliest woman in England ; and he will direct you
to a house where you will be welcome with your
lady (for Miss Byron cannot be removed) to con
vince yourselves that all possible care is taken of
her, by, Sir,
Your humble servant,
Friday, February 17. CHARLOTTE GRANDISON.
In Jits! -—Has been cruelly treated J—Many hours
speechless ! — Cannot be removed / — Her solicitude,
though hardly herself.jfor our ease ! — Dearest, dear
creature ! — But you will rejoice with me, my cou
sins, that she is in such honourable hands.
What I have written must now go. I have no time
to transcribe.
I have sent to my two friends to let them know,
that I shall not have occasion for their people's as
sistance.
She is at a nobleman's house, the Earl of L. near
Colnebrook.
My wife, harassed and fatigued in mind as she has
been on this occasion, and poorly in health, wanted
to go with me : but it is best first for me to see how
the dear creature is.
I shall set out before day, on horseback. My ser
vant shall carry with him a portmanteau of things,
ordered by my wife. My cousin must have made a
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 191
strange appearance in her masquerade dress, to her
deliverer.
The honest man who brought the letter [he looks
remarkably so ; but had he a less agreeable counte
nance, he would have been received by us as an an
gel, for his happy tidings] was but just returnedfrom
Windsor, whither he had been sent early in the
morning, to transact some business, when he was dis
patched away to us with the welcome letter. He
could not therefore be so particular as we wished
him. What he gathered was from the housekeeper ;
the men-servants, who were in the fray [a fray there
was!] being gone to town with their master. But
what we learnt from him, is, briefly, as follows :
His master is Sir Charles Grandison; a gentleman
who has not been long in England. I have often
heard mention of his father, Sir Thomas, who died
not long ago. This honest man knew not when to
stop in his master's praise. He gives his young lady
also an excellent character.
Sir Charles was going to town in his chariot and
six when he met (most happily met!) our distressed
cousin.
Sir Hargrave is the villain !
I am heartily sorry for suspecting Mr. Greville.
Sir Charles had earnest business in town ; and he
proceeded thither, after he had rescued the dear
creature, and committed her to the care of his sis
ter. — God for ever bless him !
The vile Sir Hargrave, as the servant understood,
was wounded. Sir Charles, it seems, was also hurt.
Thank God it was so slightly, as not to hinder him
from pursuing his journey to town after the glorious
act.
I would have given the honest man a handsome
gratuity : but he so earnestly besought me to excuse
him, declaring that he was under an obligation to
192 THE HISTORY OP
the most generous of masters to decline all gifts, that
I was obliged to withdraw my hand.
I will speed this away by Richard Fennell. I will
soon send you farther particulars by the post : not
unhappy ones, I hope.
Excuse, mean time, all that is amiss in a letter the
greatest part of which was written in such dreadful
uncertainty, and believe, that I will be
Ever yours,
ARCHIBALD REEVES.
LETTER XXVI.
MR. REEVES TO GEORGE SELBY, ESQ.
DEAR SIR, Saturday, February 18.
I AM just returned from visiting my beloved cousin.
You will be glad of every minute particular, as I
can give it to you, relating to this shocking affair ;
and to her protector and his sister. There are not
such another brother and sister in England.
I got to the hospitable mansion by nine this morn
ing. I enquired after Miss Byron's health ; and, on
giving in my name, was shewn into a handsome par
lour, elegantly furnished.
Immediately came down to me a very agreeable
young lady ; Miss Grandison. I gave her a thousand
thanks for the honour of her letter, and the joyful
information it had given me of the safety of one so
deservedly dear to us.
She must be an excellent young lady, answered
she. I have just left her — You must not see her
yet—
Ah, madam, said I, and looked surprised and
grieved, I believe —
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 193
Don't affright yourself, Sir. Miss Byron will do
very well : but she must be kept quiet. She has had
a happy deliverance — She —
O madam, interrupted I, your generous, your no
ble brother —
Is the best of men, Mr. Reeves : his delight is in
doing good. — And, as to this adventure, it has made
him, I am sure, a very happy man.
But is my cousin, madam, so ill, that I cannot be
allowed to see her for one moment ?
She is but just come out of a fit. She fell into it
in the relation she would have made of her story, on
mentioning the villain's name by whom she has suf
fered. She could give only broken and imperfect
accounts of herself all day yesterday, or you had
heard from me sooner. When you see her, you must
be very cautious of what you say to her. We have a
skilful physician, by whose advice we proceed.
God for ever bless you, madam !
He has not long left her. He advises quiet. She
has had a very bad night. Could she compose her
self, could she get a little natural rest, the cure is
performed. Have you breakfasted, Sir ?
Breakfasted, madam ! My impatience to see my
cousin allowed me not to think of breakfast.
You must breakfast with me, Sir. And when that
is over, if she is tolerable, we will acquaint her with
your arrival, and go up together. I read your impa
tience, Sir : we will make but a very short break
fasting. I was just going to breakfast.
She rang. It was brought in.
I longed, I said, as we sat at tea, to be acquainted
with the particulars of the happy deliverance.
We avoid asking any questions that may affect her.
I know very little of the particulars myself. My bro
ther was in haste to get to town. The servants that
were with him at the time, hardly dismounted : he
194- THE HISTORY OF
doubted not but the lady (to whom he referred me
for the gratifying my curiosity) would be able to
tell me every thing. But she fell into fits, and as I
told you, was so ill, on the recollection of what she
had suffered —
Good God ! said I, what must the dear creature
have suffered !
— That we thought fit to restrain our curiosity,
and so must you, till we see Sir Charles. I expect
him before noon.
I am told, madam, that there was a skirmish, I
hope Sir Charles —
I hope so too, Mr. Reeves, interrupted she, I
long to see my brother as much as you can do to
see your cousin — But on my apprehensions, he as
sured me upon his honour, that he was but very
slightly hurt. Sir Charles is no qualifier, Sir, when
he stakes his honour, be the occasion either light or
serious.
I said, I doubted not but she was very much sur
prised at a lady's being brought in by Sir Charles,
and in a dress so fantastic.
I was, Sir. I had not left my chamber : but
hastened down at the first word, to receive and
welcome the stranger. My maid, out of breath,
burst into my room — Sir Charles, madam, beseeches
you this moment to come down. He has saved a
lady from robbers (that was her report) a very fine
lady ! and is come back with her. He begs that
you will come down this instant.
I was too much surprised at my brother's unex
pected return, and too much affected with the lady's
visible grief and terror, to attend to her dress, when
I first went down. She was sitting, dreadfully trem
bling, and Sir Charles next her, in a very tender
manner, assuring her of his and of his sister's kindest
protection. I saluted her, continued the lady : Wei-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 195
come, welcome, thrice welcome to this house, and
to me —
She threw herself on one knee to me. Distress
had too much humbled her. Sir Charles and I rais
ed her to her seat. You see before you, madam,
said she, a strange creature, aud looked at her dress :
but I hope you will belive I am an innocent one*
This vile appearance was not my choice. Fie upon
me * I must be thus dressed out for a masquerade :
Hated diversion! I never had a notion of it. Think
not hardly, Sir, turning to Sir Charles, her hands
clasped and held up, of her whom you have so
generously delivered. Think not hardly of me, ma
dam, turning to me: I am not a bad creature. That
vile, vile man ! — She could say no more.
Charlotte, said my brother, you will make it your
first care to raise the spirits of this injured beauty :
your next, to take her directions, and inform her
friends of her safety. Such an admirable young lady
as this, cannot be missed an hour, without exciting
the fears of all her friends for her. I repeat, madam,
that you are in honourable hands. My sister will
have pleasure in obliging you.
She wished to be conveyed to town; but looking
at her dress, I offered her clothes of mine ; and my
brother said, if she were very earnest, and thought
herself able to go, he would take a horse, and leave
the chariot, and he was sure that I would attend
her thither.
But before she could declare her acceptance of
this offer, as she seemed joyfully ready to do, her
spirits failed her, and she sunk down at my feet.
Sir Charles just staid to see her come to herself:
and then — Sister, said he, the lady cannot be re
moved. Let Dr. Holmes be sent for instantly,
know you will give her your best attendance. I will
be with you before noon to-morrow. The lady is
s2
196 THE HISTORY OF
too low, and too weak, to be troubled with questions
now. Johnson will be back from Windsor. Let him
take her commands to any of her friends. Adieu,
dear madam — [Your cousin, Sir, seemed likely to
faint again] Support yourself. Repeating, You are
in safe and honourable hands ; bowing to her, as she
bowed in return, but spoke not — Adieu, Charlotte ;
and away went the best of brothers.
And God Almighty bless him, said I, wherever
he goes!
Miss Grandison- then told me, that the house I
was in belonged to the Earl of L. who had lately
married her eldest sister; about three months ago,
they set out, she said, to pay a visit to my lord's
estate and relations in Scotland, for the first time,
and to settle some affairs there : they were expected
back in a week or fortnight : she came down but
last Tuesday, and that in order to give directions
for every thing to be prepared for their reception.
It was happy for your cousin, said she, that I ob
tained the favour of my brother's company; and that
he was obliged to be in town this morning. He in
tended to come back to carry me to town this even
ing. We are a family of love, Mr. Reeves. We
are true brothers and sisters — But why do I trouble
you with these things now ? We shall be better
acquainted. I am charmed with Miss Byron.
She was so good as to hurry the breakfast: and
when it was over, conducted me up stairs. She bid
me stay at the door, and stept gently to the bed
side, and opening the curtain, I heard the voice
of our cousin.
Dear madam, what trouble do I give ! were her
words.
Still talk of trouble, Miss Byron? answered Mis*
Grandison, with an amiable familiarity ; you will not
forbear — Will you promise me not to be surprised
at the arrival of your cousin Reeves?
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 197
I do promise — I shall rejoice to see him.
Miss Grandison called to me. — I approached; and
catching my cousin's held-out hand — Thank God,
thank God, best beloved of a hundred hearts! said
I, that once more 1 behold you! that once more I
see you in safe and honourable hands ! — I will not
tell you what we have all suffered.
No, don't, said she — You need not — But, O my
cousin! I have fallen into the company of angels.
Forbear, gently patting her hand, forbear these
high flights, said the kind lady, or I shall beat my
charming patient. I shall not think you in a way
to be quite well, till you descend.
She whispered me, that the doctor had expressed
fears for her head, if she were not kept quiet. Then
raising her voice, Your cousin's gratitude, Mr.
Reeves, is excessive. You must allow me, smiling,
to beat her. When she is well, she shall talk of
angels, and of what she pleases.
But, my dear Mr. Selby, we who know how her
heart overflows with sentiments of gratitude, on
every common obligation, and even onbut intentional
ones, can easily account for the high sense she
must have of those she lies under for such a deliver
ance by the brother, and of such kind treatment
from the sister, both absolute strangers, till her dis*
tresses threw her into their protection.
I will only ask my dear Miss Byron one question,
said I (forgetting the caution given me below by
Miss Grandison), Whether this villain, by his vio
lence — [meant marriage, I was going to say]
But interrupting me, You shall not, Mr. Reeves,
said Miss Grandison, smiling, ask half a question,
that may revive disagreeable remembrances. Is she
not alive, and here, and in a way to be well ? Have
patience till she is able to tell you all.
My cousin was going to speak : My dear, said the
s 3
198 THE HISTORY OF
lady, you shall not answer Mr. Reeves's question, if
it be a question that will induce you to look back
ward. At present you must look only forward.
And are you not in my care, and in Sir Charles
Grandison's protection ?
I have done, madam, said I, bowing — The desire
of taking vengeance —
Hush, Mr. Reeves! — Surely! — Smiling, and hold
ing her finger to her lip.
It is a patient's duty, said my cousin, to submit to
the prescriptions of her kind physician : but were I
ever to forgive the author of my distresses, it must
be for his being the occasion of bringing me into
the knowledge of such a lady : and yet to lie un
der the weight of obligations that I never can re
turn — Here she stopt.
I took this as a happy indication that the last vio
lence was not offered: if it had, she would not have
mentioned forgiving the author of her distress.
As to what you say of obligation, Miss Byron,
returned Miss Grandison, let your heart answer for
mine, had you and I changed situations. And, if on
such a supposition, you can think, that your huma
nity would have been so extraordinary a matter,
then shall you be at liberty, when you are recover
ed, to say a thousand fine things: till when, pray
be silent on this subject.
Then turning to me, See how much afraid your
cousin Byron is of lying under obligation. I am
afraid she has a proud heart: has she not a very
proud heart, Mr. Reeves ?
She has a very grateful one, madam, replied I.
She turned to my cousin : Will you, Miss Byron,
be easy under the obligations you talk of, or will
you not?
I submit to your superiority, madam, in every
thing, replied my cousin : bowing her head.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 199
She then asked me, if I had let her friends in the
country know of this shocking affair?
I had suspected Mr. Greville, I said, and had
written in confidence to her uncle Selby —
0 my poor grandmamma — O my good aunt Sel
by, and my Lucy — I hope —
Miss Grandisqn interposed humorously, inter
rupting — I will have nothing said that begins with
0. Indeed, Miss Byron, Mr. Reeves, I will not
trust you together — Cannot you have patience —
We both asked her pardon. My cousin desired
leave to rise — But these odious clothes, said she —
If you are well enough, child, replied Miss Gran-
dison, you shall rise, and have no need to see those
odious clothes, as you call them. I told them Mrs.
Reeves had sent her some of her clothes. The
portmanteau was ordered to be brought up.
Then Miss Grandison, sitting down on the bed
by my cousin, took her hand; and, feeling her pulse,
Are you sure, my patient, that you shall not suffer
if you are permitted to rise? Will you be calm,
serene, easy? Will you banish curiosity? Will you
endeavour to avoid recollection ?
1 will do my endeavour, answered my cousin.
Miss Grandison then rung, and a maid-servant
coming up, Jenny, said she, pray give your best
assistance to my lovely patient. But be sure don't
let her hurry her spirits. I will lead Mr. Reeves
into my dressing-room. And when you are dress
ed, my dear we will either return to you here, or
expect you to join us there, at your pleasure.
And then she obligingly conducted me into her
dressing-room, and excused herself for refusing to
let us talk of interesting subjects. I am rejoiced,
said she to find her more sedate and composed than
hitherto she has been. Her head has been greatly
in danger. Her talk, for some hours, when she did
200 THE HISTORY OF
talk, was so wild and incoherent, and she was so
full of terror, on every one's coming in her sight,
that I would not suffer any body to attend her but
myself.
I left her not, continued Miss Grandison, till
eleven : and the housekeeper, and my maid, sat up
in her room all the rest of the night.
I arose before my usual time to attend her. I
slept not well myself. I did nothing but dream of
robbers, rescues, and murders: such an impression
had the distress of this young lady made on my
mind.
They made me a poor report, proceeded she, of
the night she had passed. And as I told you, she
fainted away this morning, a little before you came,
on her endeavouring to give me some account of her
affecting story.
Let me tell you, Mr. Reeves, I am as curious as
you can be, to know the whole of what has befallen
her. But her heart is tender and delicate: her
spirits are low : and we must not pull down with one
hand, what we build up with the other: my brother
also will expect a good account of my charge.
I blessed her for her goodness. And finding her
desirous of knowing all that I could tell her, of our
cousin's character, family, and lovers, I gave her a
brief history, which extremely pleased her. Good
God, said she, what a happiness is it, that such a
lady, in such a distress, should meet with a man as
excellent, and as much admired as herself! My
brother, Mr. Reeves, can never marry but he must
break half a score hearts. Forgive me, that I bring
him in, whenever any good person, or thing, or
/action, is spoken of. Every-body, I believe, who is
strongly possessed of a subject, makes every- thing
seen, heard, or read of, that bears the least resem
blance^ turn into and serve to illustrate that subject.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 201
But here I will conclude this letter, in order to
send it by the post. Besides, I have been so much
fatigued in body and mind, and my wife has also
been so much disturbed in her mind, that I must
give way to a call of rest.
I will pursue the subject, the now agreeable sub
ject, in the morning; and perhaps shall dispatch
what I shall farther write, as you must be impatient
for it, by an especial messenger.
Sir Rowland was here twice yesterday, and once
to-day. My wife caused him to be told, that Miss
Byron, by a sudden call, has been obliged to go a
little way out of town for two or three days.
He proposes to set out for Caermarthen the be
ginning of next week. He hoped he should not be
denied taking his corporal leave of her.
If our cousin has a good day to-morrow, and no
return of her fits, she proposes to be in town on
Monday. I am to wait on her, and Sir Charles and
his sister, at breakfast on Monday morning, and to
attend her home ; where there will be joy indeed,
on her arrival.
Pray receive for yourself, and make for me to
your lady, and all friends, my compliments of con
gratulation.
I have not had either leisure or inclination, to
enquire after the villain, who has given all this
disturbance.
Ever, ever yours,
Saturday night. ARCHIBALD REEVES.
202 THE HISTORY OP
LETTER XXVII.
FROM MR. REEVES TO GEORGE SELBY, ESQ.
IN CONTINUATION.
Miss Grandison went to my cousin, to see how-
she bore rising, supposing her near dressed.
She soon returned to me. The most charming
woman, I think said she, I ever saw ! But she trem
bles so, that I have persuaded her to lie down. I
answered for you, that you would stay dinner.
I must beg excuse, madam. I have an excellent
wife. She loves Miss Byron as her life : she will
be impatient to know —
Well, well, well, say no more, Mr. Reeves: my
brother has redeemed one prisoner, and his sister
has taken another : and glad you may be, that it
is no worse.
I bowed, and looked silly, I believe.
You may look, and beg and pray, Mr. Reeves.
When you know me better, you will find me a very
whimsical creature: but you must stay to see Sir
Charles. Would you go home to your wife with
half your errand ? She won't thank you for that,
I can tell you, let her be as good a woman as the
best. But, to comfort you, we give not into every
modern fashion. We dine earlier than most people
of our condition. My brother, though in the main,
above singularity, will nevertheless, in things he
~ inks right, be governed by his own rules, which
are the laws of reason and convenience. You are
on horseback; and, were I you, such good news
as I should have to carry, considering what might
have happened, would give me wings, and make me
fly through the air with it.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 203
I was about to speak : Come, come, I will have
no denial, interrupted she ; I shall have a double
pleasure, if you are present when Sir Charles comes,
on hearing his account of what happened. You are
a good man, and have a reasonable quantity of roow-
der and gratitude, to heighten a common case into
the marvellous. So sit down, and be quiet.
I was equally delighted and surprised at her hu
morous raillery, but could not answer a single word.
If it be midnight before you will suffer me to depart,
thought I, I will not make another objection.
While this amiable lady was thus entertaining
me, we heard the trampling of horses — My bro
ther! said she, I hope! — He comes! pardon the
fondness of a sister, who speaks from sensible effects
— -A father and a brother in one !
Sir Charles entered the room. He addressed
himself to me in a most polite manner. Mr. Reeves !
said he, as I understand from below — Then turn
ing to his sister, Excuse me, Charlotte. I heard
this worthy gentleman was with you : and I was
impatient to know how my fair guest —
Miss Byron is in a good way, I hope, interrupted
she, but very weak and low-spirited. She arose and
dressed ; but I have prevailed on her to lie down
again.
Then turning to me with a noble air, he both
welcomed and congratulated me.
Sir Charles Grandison is indeed a fine figure. He
is in the bloom of youth. I don't know that I have
ever seen a handsomer or genteeler man. Well
might his sister say, that if he married, he would
break half a score hearts. O this vile Pollexfen 1
thought I, at the moment; could he draw upon,
has he hurt, such a man as this?
After pouring out my acknowledgments, in the
name of several families, as well as in my own, I
THE HISTORY OF
could not but enquire into the nature of the hurt
he had received.
A very trifle! — My coat only was hurt, Mr.
Reeves. The skin of my left shoulder raked a little,
putting his hand upon it.
Thank God, said I: Thank God, said Miss Gran-
dison — But so near ! — O the villain! what might it
have been!—
Sir Hargrave pent up in a chariot, had great dis
advantage. My reflections on the event of y ester-
i/day, yield me the more pleasure, as I have, on en-
^ quiry, understood that he will do well again, if he
will be ruled. I would not, on any account, have
had his instant death to answer for. But no more
of this just now. Give me the particulars of the
young lady's state of health. I left her in a very
bad way. — You had advice ?
Miss Grandison gave her brother an account of
all that had been done ; and of every-thing that
had passed since he went away ; as also of the cha
racter and excellencies of the lady whom he had
rescued.
I confirmed what she said in my cousin's favour ;
and he very gratefully thanked his sister for her
care, as a man would do for one the nearest and
dearest to him.
We then besought him to give an account of the
glorious action, which had restored to all that knew
her, the darling of our hearts.
I will relate all he said, in the first person, as
nearly in his own words as possible, and will try to
hit the coolness with which he told the agreeable
story.
* You know, sister, said he, the call I had to town.
It was happy, that I yielded to your importunity to
attend you hither.
' About two miles on this side Hounslow, I saw a
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 205
chariot-and-six driving at a great rate. I also had
ordered Jerry to drive pretty fast.
* The coachman seemed inclined to dispute the
way with mine. This occasioned a few moments
stop to both. I ordered my coachman to break the
way. I don't love to stand upon trifles. My horses
were fresh : I had not come far.
* The curtain of the chariot we met was pulled
down. I saw not who was in it; but on turning
out of the way, I knew, by the arms, it was Sir Har-
grave Pollexfen's.
< There was in it a gentleman, who immediately
pulled up the canvas.
* I saw, however, before he drew it up, another
person, wrapt up in a man's scarlet cloak.
' For God's sake ! help, help ! cried out the per
son : For God's sake, help !
' I ordered the coachman to stop.
4 Drive on, said the gentleman ; cursing his
coachman : drive on, when I bid you.
' Help ! again cried she, but with a voice as if
her mouth was half stopt.
* I called to my servant on horseback to stop the
postilion of the other chariot : and I bid Sir Har-
grave's coachman proceed at his peril.
' Sir Hargrave called out, on the contrary side
of the chariot (his canvas being still up on that next
me) with vehement execrations, to drive on.
1 1 alighted, and went round to the other side of
the chariot.
1 Again the lady endeavoured to cry out. I saw
Sir Hargrave struggle to pull over her mouth a
handkerchief, which was tied round her head. He
swore outrageously.
* The moment she beheld me, she spread out both
her hands— For God's sake—
206 THE HISTORY OF
' Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, said I, by the arms. — •
You are engaged, I doubt, in a very bad affair.
' I am Sir Hargrave Pollexfen ; and am carrying
a fugitive wife — Your own wife, Sir Hargrave ?
* Yes, by G — , said he ; and she was going to
elope from meata damned masquerade — See! draw
ing aside the cloak, detected in the very dress !
' O no ! no ! no ! said the lady —
' Proceed, coachman, said he, and cursed and
swore.
* Let me ask the lady a question, Sir Hargrave.
i You are impertinent, Sir. Who the devil are
you?
* Are you, madam, Lady Pollexfen ? said I.
( O no ! no ! no ! — was all she could say —
* Two of my servants came about me ; a third
held the head of the horse on which the postilion
sat. Three of Sir Hargrave's approached on their
horses ; but seemed as if afraid to come too near,
and parleyed together.
4 Have an eye to those fellows, said I. Some
base work is on foot. You'll presently be aided by
passengers. Sirrah, said I to the coachman (for he
lashed the horses on) proceed at your peril.
* Sir Hargrave then, with violent curses and
threatenings, ordered him to drive over every one
that opposed him.
' Coachman, proceed at your peril, said I. Ma
dam, will you —
* O Sir, Sir, Sir, relieve, help me for God's sake!
I am in a villain's hands ! Tricked, vilely tricked
into a villain's hands ! Help, help, for God's sake !
' Do you, said I, to Frederick, cut the traces, if
you cannot otherwise stop this chariot Bid Jerry
cut the reins, and then seize as many of those fel
lows as you can. Leave Sir Hargrave to me.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 207
* The lady continued screaming and crying out
for help.
* Sir Hargrave drew his sword, which he had held
between his knees in the scabbard ; and then called
upon his servants to fire at all that opposed his
progress.
' My servants, Sir Hargrave, have fire-arms as well
as yours. They will not dispute my orders. Don't
provoke me to give the word.
' Then addressing the lady, Will you, madam,
put yourself into my protection ?
' O yes, yes, yes, with my whole heart — Dear
good Sir, protect me !
* I opened the chariot door. Sir Hargrave made
a pass at me. Take that, and be damn'd to you, for
your insolence, scoundrel ! said he.
4 1 was aware of his thrust, and put it by ; but his
sword a little raked my shoulder.
* My sword was in my hand ; but undrawn.
' The chariot-door remaining open (I was not so
ceremonious, as to let down the foot-step to take the
gentleman out) I seized him by the collar before he
could recover himself from the pass he had made at
me; and with a jerk, and a kind of twist, laid him
under the hind- wheel of his chariot.
' I wrenched his sword from him, and snapped it,
and flung the two pieces over my head.
' His coachman cried out for his master. Mine
threatened his if he stirred. The postilion was a
boy. My servant had made him dismount, before
he joined the other two, whom I had ordered aloud
to endeavour to seize (but my view was only to ter
rify) wretches who, knowing the badness of their
cause, were before terrified
* Sir Hargrave's mouth and face were very bloody.
I believe I might hurt him with the pommel of my
sword,
T2
208 THE HISTORY OF
' One of his legs, in his sprawling, had got be*
tween the spokes of his chariot-wheel. I thought
that was a fortunate circumstance for preventing
further mischief; and charged his coachman not to
stir with the chariot, for his master's sake.
* He cried out, cursed, and swore. I believe he
was bruised with the fall. The jerk was violent.
So little able to support an offence, Sir Hargrave,
upon his own principles, should not have been so
ready to give it.
* 1 had not drawn my sword : I hope I never shall
be provoked to do it in a private quarrel. I should
not, however, have scrupled to draw it on such an
occasion as this, had there been an absolute neces
sity for it.
* The lady, though greatly terrified, had disen
gaged herself from the man's cloak. I had not
leisure to consider her dress ; but I was struck with
her figure, and more with her terror.
' I offered my hand. I thought not now of the
foot-step, any more than I did before : she not of
any-thing, as it seemed, but her deliverance.
* Have you not read, Mr. Reeves (Pliny, I think,
gives the relation), of a frighted bird, that, pursued
by a hawk, flew for protection into the bosom of a
man passing by ?
1 In like manner, your lovely cousin, the moment
I returned to the chariot-door, instead of accepting
of my offered hand, threw herself into my arms.-—
O save me! save me!— -She was ready to faint. She
could not, I believe, have stood.
* I carried her round Sir Hargrave's horses, and
seated her in my chariot. — Be assured, madam, said
I, that you are in honourable hands. I will convey
you to my sister, who is a young lady of honour
and virtue.
* She looked out at one window, then at the other,,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 209
in visible terror, as if fearing still Sir Hargrave.
Fear nothing, said I : I will attend you in a moment.
I shut the chariot door.
* I then went backward a few paces (keeping
however, the lady in my eye) to see what had
become of my servants.
* It seems, that at their first coming up pretty
near with Sir Hargrave's horsemen, they presented
their pistols.
* What shall we do, Wilkins, or Wilson, or some
such name, said one of Sir Hargrave's men to an
other, all three of them on their defence ? Fly for
it, answered the fellow. We may swing for this.
I see our master down. There may be murder.
* Their consciences put them to flight.
' My servants pursued them a little way ; but were
returning to support their master, just as 1 had put
the lady into my chariot.
' I saw Sir Hargrave at a distance, on his legs,
supported by his coachman. He limped ; leaned
his whole weight upon his servant : and seemed to
be in agonies.
* I bid one of my servants tell him who I was.
1 He cursed me, and threatened vengeance. He
cursed my servant ; and still more outrageously his
own scoundrels, as he called them.
' I then stept back to my chariot.
' Miss Byron had, through terror, sunk down at
the bottom of it ; where she lay panting, and could
only say, on my approach, Save me ! save me !
1 I re-assured her, I lifted her on the seat, and
brought her to my sister ; and what followed, I sup
pose, Charlotte, bowing to her, you have told Mr.
Reeves.'
We were both about to break out in grateful ap
plauses ; but Sir Charles, as if designing to hinder
us, proceeded ;
210 THE HISTORY 0*
' You see, Mr. Reeves, what an easy conquest this
s. You see what a small degree of merit falls to
my share. The violator's conscience was against
him. The consciences of his fellows were op my
side. My own servants are honest worthy men.
They love their master. In a good cause I would set
any three of them against six who were engaged
in a bad one. Vice is the greatest coward in the
world, when it knows it will be resolutely opposed.
And what have good men, engaged in a right cause,
to fear ?'
What an admirable man is Sir Charles Grandison !
—Thus thinking ! thus acting !
I explained to Sir Charles who this Wilson was,
whom the others consulted, and were directed by ;
and what an implement in this black transaction.
To what other man's protection in the world, Mr.
Selby, could our Miss Byron have been obliged, and
so little mischief followed ?
Sir Hargrave, it seems, returned back to town.
What a recreant figure, my dear Mr. Selby, must
he make, even to himself! — A villain !
Sir Charles says, that the turnpike-men at Small-
bury Green told his servants, on their attending him
to town after the happy rescue, a formidable story
of a robbery committed a little beyond Hounslow
by half a dozen villains on horseback, upon a gen
tleman in a chariot-and-six ; which had passed
through that turnpike but half an hour before he was
attacked ; and that the gentleman, about an hour
and half before Sir Charles went through, returned
o town, wounded, for advice ; and they heard him
groan as he passed through the turnpike.
I should add one circumstance, said Sir Charles :
Do you know, Charlotte, that you have a rake for
your brother ? — A man on horseback, it seems, came
to the turnpike gate, whilst the turnpike-men were
8IR CHARLES GRAffDISON. 211
telling my servants this story. Nothing in the world,
said he, but two young rakes in their chariots-and-
«ix, one robbing the other of a lady. I, and two
other passengers, added the man, stood aloof to see
the issue of the affair. We expected mischief; and
some there was. One of the by-standers was the
better for the fray ; for he took up a silver-hilted
sword, broken in two pieces, and rode off with it.
Sir Hargrave, said Sir Charles, smiling, might
well give out that he was robbed ; to lose such a
prize as Miss Byron, and his sword besides.
I asked Sir Charles, if it were not adviseable to
take measures with the villain ?
He thought it best, he said, to take as little notice
of the affair as possible, unless the aggressor stirred
in it. Masquerades, added he, are not creditable
places for young ladies to be known to be insulted
at them. They are diversions that fall not in with
the genius of the English commonalty. Scandal
will have something to say from that circumstance,
however causeless. But Miss Byron's story, told
by herself, will enable you to resolve upon your fu
ture measures.
So, Sir Charles seems not to be a friend to mas
querades.
I think, were I to live a hundred years, I never
would go to another. Had it not been for Lady
Betty— She has, indeed, too gay a turn for a woman
of forty, and a mother of children. Miss Byron, I dare
say, will be afraid of giving the lead to her for the
future. But, excepting my wife and self, nobody in
town has suffered more than Lady Betty on this occa
sion. Indeed she is, I must say, an obliging, well-
meaning woman : and she also declares (so much has
shebeen affected with Miss Byron's danger, of which
she takes herself to be the innocent cause) thatshu
will never again go to a masquerade.
212 THE HISTORY OF
I long to have Miss Byron's account of this horrid
affair. — God grant, that it may not be such a one,
as will lay us under a necessity — But as our cousin
has a great notion of female delicacy — I know not
what I would say — We must have patience a little
while longer.
Miss Grandison's eyes shone with pleasure all the
time her brother was giving his relation.
I can only say, brother, said she, when he had
done, that you have rescued an angel of a woman ;
and you have made me as happy by it, as yourself.
I have a generous sister, Mr. Reeves, said Sir
Charles.
Till I knew my brother, Mr. Reeves, as I now
know him, I was an inconsiderate, unreflecting girl.
Good and evil, which immediately affected not my
self, were almost alike indifferent to me. But he has
awakened in me a capacity to enjoy the true plea
sure that arises from a benevolent action.
Depreciate not, my Charlotte, your own worth.
Absence, Mr. Reeves, endears. I have been long
abroad : not much above a year returned ! But
when you know us better, you will find I have a
partial sister.
Mr. Reeves will not then think me so, But I
will go and see how my fair patient does.
She went accordingly to my cousin,
O Sir Charles, said I, what an admirable woman
is Miss Grandison i
My sister Charlotte, Mr. Reeves, is, indeed, an
excellent woman. I think myself happy in her :
but I tell her sometimes, that I have a still more
excellent sister : and it is no small instance of Char
lotte's greatness of mind, that she herself will allow
me to say so.
Just then came in the ladies : the two charming
creatures entered together, Miss Grandison support-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOW. 213
ing my trembling cousin : but she had first acquaint
ed her, that she would find Sir Charles in her dress
ing-room.
She looked indeed lovely, though wan, at her first
entrance; but a fine glow overspread her cheeks, at
the sight of her deliverer.
Sir Charles approached her, with an air of calm
ness and serenity, for fear of giving her emotion.
She cast her eyes upon him, with a look of the most
respectful gratitude.
I will not oppress my fair guest with many words :
but permit me to congratulate you, as I hope I may,
on your recovered spirits — Allow me, madam —
And he took her almost-motionless hand, and
conducted her to an easy chair that had been set
for her. She sat down, and would have said some
thing ; but only bowed to Sir Charles, to Miss Gran-
dison, and me ; and reclined her head against the
cheek of the chair.
Miss Grandison held her salts to her.
She took them into her own hands, and smelling
to them, raised her head a little : Forgive me, ma
dam. Pardon me, Sir! — O my cousin, to me—
How can I — So oppressed with obligations ! — Such
goodness ! — No words ! — My gratitude ! — My full
heart ! —
And then she again reclined her head, as giving
up hopelessly the effort she made to express her
gratitude.
You must not, madam, said Sir Charles, sitting
down by her, over-rate a common benefit. — Dear
Miss Byron (permit me to address myself to you,
as of long acquaintance) by what Mr. Reeves has
told my sister, and both have told me, I must think
yesterday one of the happiest days of my life. I am
sorry that our acquaintance has begun so much at
jour cost : but you must let us turn this evil ap-
214- THE HISTORY OF
pearance into real good. I have two sisters : the
world produces not more worthy women. Let me
henceforth boast that I have three : and shall I not
then have reason to rejoice in the event that has
made so lovely an addition to my family ?
Then taking her passive hand with the tenderness
of a truly-affectionate brother, consoling a sister in
calamity, and taking his sister's, and joining both ;
Shall I not, madam, present my Charlotte to a sis
ter ? And will you not permit me to claim as a bro
ther under that relation ? Miss Byron's Christian
name, Mr. Reeves?
Harriet, Sir.
My sister Harriet, receive and acknowledge your
Charlotte. My Charlotte— j
Miss Grandison arose, and saluted my cousin ;
who looked at Sir Charles with reverence, as well as
gratitude ; at Miss Grandison with delight ; and at
me with eyes lifted up : and, after a little struggle
for speech ; How shall I bear this goodness ! said
she — This, indeed, is bringing good out of evil !
Did I not say, cousin, that I was fallen into the
company of angels ?
J was afraid she would have fainted.
We must endeavour, Mr. Reeves, said Sir Charles
to me, to lessen the sense our Miss Byron has of
her past danger, in order to bring down to reason
able limits, the notion she has of her obligation for
a common relief.
Miss Grandison ordered a few drops on sugar —
You must be orderly, my sister Harriet, said she.
Am I not your elder sister ? My elder sister makes
me do what she pleases.
Oh ! madam ! said my cousin —
Call me not madam; call me your Charlotte. My
brother has given me and himself a sister — Will you
not own me ?
SIR CHARLES GfcANDISON. 215
How can a heart bowed down by obligation, and
goodness never to be returned, rise to that lovely fa
miliarity, by which the obligers so generously dis
tinguish themselves ? My lips and my heart, I will
be so bold as to say, ever went together : but how
—And yet so sweetly invited. My — my — my Char
lotte (withdrawing her hand from Sir Charles, and
clasping both her arms round Miss Grandison's
neck, the two worthiest bosoms of the sex joining
as one) take your Harriet, person and mind—
May I be found worthy, on proof, of all this good
ness !
* *
Lady Betty has just left us. I read to her what
I have written since my visit to Colnebrook. She
shall not, she says, recover her eyes for a week to
come.
The women, Mr. Selby, are ever looking forward
on certain occasions. Lady Betty and my wife ex
tended their wishes so far, as that they might be
able to call Miss Grandison and our Miss Byron
sisters; but by a claim that should exclude Sir
Charles as a brother to one of them.
Should Sir Charles — But no more on this subject
— Yet one word more : When the ladies had men
tioned it, I could not help thinking that this grace
ful and truly fine gentleman seems to be the only
man, whom our cousin has yet seen, that would
meet with no great difficulty from her on such
an application.
But Sir Charles has a great estate, and still greater
expectations from my Lord W. His sister says,
he would break half a score hearts, were he to mar
ry — So for that matter would our Miss Byron. But
once more — Not another word, however, on this
subject.
I staid to dine with this amiable brother and
216 THE HISTORY OF
sister. My cousin exerted herself to go down,
and sat at table for one half-hour : but changing
countenance, once or twice, as she sat, Miss Gran-
dison would attend her up, and make her lie down.
I took leave of her, at her quitting the table.
On Monday I hope to see her once more among
us.
If our dear Miss Byron cannot write, you will
perhaps have one letter more, my dear Mr. Selby,
from
Your ever affectionate,
ARCHIBALD REEVES.
My servant is this moment returned with your let
ter. Indeed, my dear Mr. Selby, there are
two or three passages in it, that would have cut
me to the heart,* had not the dear creature
been so happily restored to our hopes.
LETTER XXVIII.
MR* REEVES. IN CONTINUATION. *
Monday night, February 20.
I WILL write one more letter, my dear Mr. Selby,
and then I will give up my pen to our beloved cou
sin.
I got to Colnebrook by nine this morning. I had
the pleasure to find our Miss Byron recovered be
yond my hopes. She had a very good night on Sa
turday ; and all Sunday, she said, was a cordial day
to her from morning till night ; and her night was
quiet and happy.
Miss Grandison staid at home yesterday to keep
my cousin company. Sir Charles passed the great-
* See Lttter xxiv.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 217
est part of the day in the library. The two ladies
were hardly ever separated. My cousin expresses
herself in raptures, whenever she speaks of this
bother and sister. Miss Grandison, she says (and
indeed every one must see it) is one of the frankest
and most communicative of women. Sir Charles
appears to be one of the most unreserved of men,
as well as one of the most polite. He makes not
his guests uneasy with his civilities : but you see
freedom and ease in his whole deportment : and the
stranger cannot doubt but Sir Charles will be equally
pleased with freedom and ease, in return. I had an
encouraging proof of the justness of this observation
this morning from him, as we sat at breakfast. I had
expressed myself, occasionally, in such a manner as
shewed more respect than freedom: My dear Mr.
Reeves, said he, kindred minds will be intimate at
first sight. Receive me early into the list of your
friends: I have already numbered you among mine.
I should think amiss of myself, if so good a man as
I am assured Mr. Reeves is, should, by his distance,
shew a diffidence of me, that would not permit his
mind to mingle with mine.
Miss Grandison, my cousin says, put her on re
lating to her, her whole history; and the histories
of the several persons and families to whom she is
related.
Miss Byron concluding, as well as I, that Sir
Charles would rather take his place in the coach,
than go on horseback to town : and being so happily
recovered, as not to give us apprehension about her
bearing tolerably the little journey : I kept my horse
in our return, and Sir Charles went in the coach.
This motion coming from Miss Byron, I raillied her
upon it when I got her home : but she won't forgive
me, if she knows that I told you whose the motion
VOL, i. u
218 THE HISTORY OF
was. And yet the dear creature's eyes sparkled
with pleasure when she had carried her point.
I was at home near half an hour before the coach
arrived ; and was a welcome guest.
My dear Mrs. Reeves told me, she had expected
our arrival before dinner, and hoped Sir Charles and
his sister would dine with us. I hoped so too, I told
her.
I found there Lady Betty and Miss Clements, a
favourite of us all, both impatiently waiting to see
my cousin.
Don't be jealous, Mr. Reeves, said my wife, if
after what I have heard of Sir Charles Grandison,
and what he has done for us, I run to him with
open arms.
I give you leave, my dear, to love him, replied I ;
and to express your love in what manner you please.
I have no doubt, said Lady Betty, that I shall
break my heart, if Sir Charles takes not very par
ticular notice of me.
He shall have my prayers, as well as my praises,
said Miss Clements.
She is acquainted with the whole shocking affair.
When the coach stopt, and the bell rung, the ser
vants contended who should first run to the door. I
welcomed them at the coach. Sir Charles handed
out Miss Byron, I Miss Grandison : Sally, said my
cousin, to her raptured maid, take care of Mrs.
Jenny.
Sir Charles was received, by Mrs. Reeves, as I
expected. She was almost speechless with joy. He
saluted her: but I think, as I tell her, the first
motion was hers. He was then obliged to go round ;
and my cousin, I do assure you, looked as if she
would not wish to have been neglected.
As soon as the ladies could speak, they poured out
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 219
their blessings and thanks to him, and to Miss Gran-
dison; whom, with a most engaging air, he present
ed to each lady ; and she, as engagingly, saluted her
sister Harriet by that tender relation, and con
gratulated them, and Miss Byron, and herself upon
it ; kindly bespeaking a family relation for herself
through her dear Miss Byron, were her words.
When we were seated, my wife and Lady Betty
wanted to enter into the particulars of the happy
deliverance, in praise of the deliverer; but Sir Charles
interrupting them, My dear Mrs. Reeves, said he,
you cannot be too careful of this jewel. Every thing
may be trusted to her own discretion: but how can
we well blame the man who would turn thief for so
rich a treasure? I do assure you, my sister Harriet
(Do you know, Mrs. Reeves, that I have found my
third sister? Was she not stolen from us in her
cradle?) that if Sir Hargrave will repent, I will
forgive him for the sake of the temptation.
Mrs. Reeves was pleased with this address, and
has talked of it since.
I never can forgive him, Sir, said Miss Byron,
were it but —
That he has laid you under such an obligation,
said Miss Grandison, patting her hand with her
fan, as she sat over against her: But hush, child!
You said that before! — And then turning to Mrs.
Reeves, Has not our new-found sister a very proud
heart, Mrs. Reeves?
And, dearest Miss Grandison, replied my smiling,
delighted cousin, did you not ask that question be
fore?
I did, child, I did, but not of Mrs. Reeves — A
compromise however — Do you talk no more of obli
gation, and I'll talk no more of pride.
Charlotte justly chides herHarriet, said SirCharles.
What must the man have been that had declined his
220 THE HISTORY OF
aid in a distress so alarming? Not one word more
therefore upon this subject.
We were all disappointed, that this amiable bro
ther and sister excused themselves from dining with
us. All I mean of our own family : for Lady Betty
and Miss Clements, not being able to stay, were
glad they did not.
They took leave, amidst a thousand grateful bless
ings and acknowledgments; Miss Grandison promis
ing to see her sister Harriet very soon again ; and
kindly renewing her wishes of intimacy.
When they went away, There goes your heart,
Miss Byron, said Mrs. Reeves.
True, answered Miss Byron, if my heart have no
place in it for any-thing but gratitude, as I believe
it has not.
Miss Grandison, added she, is the most agree
able of women —
And Sir Charles, rejoined Mrs. Reeves, archly,
is the most dis- agreeable of men.
Forbear cousin, replied Miss Byron, and blushed.
Well, well, said Lady Betty, you need not, my
dear, be ashamed, if it be so.
Indeed you need not, joined in Miss Clements : I
never saw a finer man in my life. Such a lover, if
one might have him —
Jft if— replied Miss Byron — But till if is out of
the question, should there not be such a thing as
discretion, Miss Clements ?
No doubt of it, returned that young lady; and if
it be to be shewn by any woman on earth, where
there is such a man as this in the question, and in
such circumstances, it must be by Miss Byron.
Miss Byron was not so thoroughly recovered
but that her spirits blegan to flag. We made her
retire, and, at her request, excused her coming
down to dinner.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 221
I told you I had accepted the offer made by Lady
Betty, when we were in dreadful uncertainty, that
her steward should make further enquiries about the
people at Paddington. Nothing worth mentioning
has occurred from those enquiries; except confirm
ing, that the widow and her daughters are not peo
ple of bad characters. In all likelihood they thought
they should entitle themselves to the thanks of all
Miss Byron's friends, when the marriage was com
pleted with a man of Sir Hargrave's fortune.
The messenger that I sent to enquire after that
Bagenhall's character, has informed us, that it is a
very profligate one; and that he is an intimate of Sir
Hargrave : but no more is necessary now, God be
praised, to be said of him.
The vile wretch himself, I hear, keeps his room ;
and it is whispered, that he is more than half-crazed;
insomuch that his very attendants are afraid to g o
near him. We know not the nature of his hurt ; but
hurt he is, though in a fair way of recovery. He
threatens, it seems, destruction to Sir Charles, the
moment he is able to go abroad. God preserve one
of the worthiest and best of men !
Sir Hargrave has turned off all the servants, we
are told, that attended him on his shocking, but
happily-disappointed, enterprize.
Miss Byron intends to write to her Lucy by to
morrow's post (if she continue mending) an ample
account of all tnat she suffered from the date of her
last letter, to the hour of her happy deliverance. 1
am to give her minutes, to the best of my recollec
tion, of what I have written to you; that so the ac
count may be as complete as possible, and that she
may write no more than is consistent with the series,
which she is required to preserve. She begins this
evening, she bids me tell you, that you may be as
little a while in suspense about her as possible : but
u 3
THE HISTORY OF
if she cannot finish by to-morrow night, she will have
an opportunity to dispatch her letter on Wednesday
by a servant of Mr. Greville's, whom he left in town
with some commissions, and who promises to call for
any-thing we may have to send to Selby-house.
Sir Rowland — But let my cousin write to you
upon that and other matters. She knows what to
say on that subject better than! do.
Mean time I heartily congratulate every one of the
dear family upon the return and safety of the darling
«>f so many hearts; and remain, dear Mr. Selby,
Your most faithful and obedient servant,
ARCHIBALD REEVES.
LETTER XXIX.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Monday, February 20.
Is it again given me to write to you, my Lucy ! and
in you, to all my revered friends ! To write with
cheerfulness ! To call upon you all to rejoice with
me ! — God be praised!
What dangers have I escaped! How have my head
and my heart been affected ! I dare not, as yet,
think of the anguish you all endure for me.
With what wretched levity did I conclude my last
letter ! Giddy creature, that I was, vain and foolish !
But let me begin my sad story. Your impatience
all this while must be too painful. Only let me pre
mise, that gaily as I boasted, when I wrote to you so
conceitedly, as it might seem, of my dress, and of
conquests, and I know not what nonsense, I took
no pleasure at the place, in the shoals of fools that
swam after me. I despised myself and them. De*
spised! 1 was shocked at both.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. . 228
Two Lucifers were among them ; but the worst,
the very worst Lucifer of all, appeared in a harlequin
dress. He hopped and skipt, and played the fool
about me ; and at last told me, He knew Miss Byron ;
and that he was, as he called himself, the despised,
the rejected, Sir Hargrave Pollexfen.
He behaved, however, with complaisance ; and I
had no apprehension of what I was to suffer from
his villany.
Mr. Reeves has told you, that he saw me into the
chair, provided for me by my vile new servant. O
my Lucy! One branch of my vanity is entirely lopt
off. I must pretend to some sort of skill in phy
siognomy ! Never more will I, for this fellow's sake,
presume to depend on my judgment of people's
hearts framed from their countenances.
Mr. Reeves has told you every thing about the
chair, and the chairmen. How can I describe the
misgivings of my heart when I first began to suspect
treachery! But when I undrew the curtains, and
found myself farther deluded by another false heart,
whose help I implored, and in the midst of fields,
and soon after the lights put out, I pierced the night
air with my screams, till I could scream no more. I
was taken out in fits; and when I came a little to my
senses, I found myself on a bed, three women about
me ; one at my head, holding a bottle to my nose,
my nostrils sore with hartshorn, and a strong smell
of burnt feathers ; but no man near me.
Where am I ? Who are you, madam ? And who
are you? Where am I? were the questions 1 first
asked.
The women were a mother and two daughters.
The mother answered, You are not in bad hands.
God grant you say truth ! said I.
No harm is intended you ; only to make you one
224 THE HISTORY OF
of the happiest of women. We would not be con
cerned in a bad action.
I hope not : I hope not : let me engage your pity,
madam. You seem to be a mother: these young
gentlewomen, I presume, are your daughters. Save
me from ruin, I beseech you, madam : save me from
ruin, as you would your daughters.
: These young women are my daughters. They are
sober and modest women. No ruin is intended you.
One of the richest and noblest men in England
is your admirer : he dies for you. He assures me,
that he intends honourable marriage to you. You
are not engaged, he says: and you must, and you
shall, be his. You may save murder, madam, if you
consent. He resolves to be the death of any lover
whom you encourage.
This must be the vile contrivance of SirHargrave
Pollexfen, immediately cried I out: Is it not? Is it
not? Tell me; I beg of you to tell me.
I arose, and sat on the bed-side; and at that mo
ment in came the vile, vile Sir Hargrave.
I screamed out. He threw himself at my feet. I
reclined my head on the bosom of the elderly person,
and by hartshorn and water they had much ado to
keep me out of a fit. Had he not withdrawn ; had
he kept in my sight ; I should certainly have fainted.
But holding up my head, and seeing only the wo
men, I revived : and began to pray, to beg, to offer
rewards, if they would facilitate my escape, or pro
cure my safety : but then came in again the hated
man.
I beg of you, Miss Byron, said he, with an air of
greater haughtiness than before, to make yourself
easy, and hear what I have to say. It is in your own
choice, in your own power, to be what you please,
and to make me what you please. Do not therefore
SIU CHARLES GRANDISON. 225
needlessly terrify yourself. You see I am a deter
mined man. Ladies, you may withdraw —
Not and leave me here ! — And as they went out,
I pushed by the mother, and between the daugh
ters, and followed the foremost into the parlour ;
and then sunk down on my knees, wrapping my
arms about her : O save me ! save me ! said I.
The vile wretch entered. I left her, and kneeled
to him. I knew not what I did. I remember, I said,
wringing my hands, If you have mercy; if you have
compassion ; let me now, now, I beseech you, Sir,
this moment, experience your mercy.
He gave them some motion, I suppose, to with
draw (for by that time the widow and the other
daughter were in the parlour) ; and they all three
retired.
1 have besought yoit, madam, and on my knees too,
to shew me mercy ; but none would you shew me,
inexorable Miss Byron ! Kneel, if you will ; in your
turn kneel, supplicate, pray ; you cannot be more in
earnest than I was. Now are the tables turned.
Barbarous man ! said I, rising from my knees. My
spirit was raised ; but it as instantly subsided. I be
seech you, Sir Hargrave, in a quite frantic way,
wringing my hands, and coming near him, and then
running to the window, and then to the door (with
out meaning to go out at either, had they been open ;
for whither could J go?) and then again to him : Be
not, I beseech you, Sir Hargrave, cruel to me. I
never was cruel to any-body. You know I was civil
to you; I was very civil —
Yes, yes, and very determined. You called me no
names. I call you none, Miss Byron. You were very
civil. Hitherto / have not been uncivil. But remem
ber, madam — But, sweet and ever-adorable creature,
and he clasped his arms about me, your very terror
is beautiful ! I can enjoy your terror, madam — And
226 THE HISTORY OF
the savage would have kissed me. My averted head
frustrated his intention ; and at his feet I besought
him not to treat the poor creature, whom he had so
vilely betrayed, with indignity.
/ don't hit your fancy > madam !
Can you be a malicious man, Sir Hargrave?
You don't like my morals, madam !
And is this the way, Sir Hargrave, are these the
means you take, to convince me that I ought to like
them?
Well, madam, you shall prove the mercy in me,
you would not shew. You shall see that I cannot be
a malicious man ; a revengeful man : and yet you
have raised my pride. You shall find me a moral
man.
Then, Sir Hargrave, will I bless you from the
bottom of my heart !
But you know what will justify me, in every eye,
for the steps I have taken. Be mine, madam. Be
legally mine. I offer you my honest hand. Consent
to be Lady Pollexfen — No punishment, I hope — Or,
take the consequence.
What, Sir! justify by so poor, so very poor, a com
pliance, steps that you have so basely taken ! — Take
my life, Sir : but my hand and my heart are my own :
they never shall be separated.
I arose from my knees, trembling, and threw my
self upon the window-seat, and wept bitterly.
He came to me. I looked on this side, and on
that, wishing to avoid him.
You cannot fly, madam. You are securely mine :
and mine still more securely you shall be. Don't
provjoke me: don't make me desperate. By all
that's good and holy —
He cast his eyes at my feet ; then at my face ;
then threw himself at my feet, and embraced my
knees with his odious arms.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 227
I was terrified. I screamed. In ran one of the
daughters — Good Sir! Pray Sir! — Did you not say
you would be honourable ?
Her mother followed her in — Sir, Sir ! In my
house —
Thank God, thought I, the people here are better
than I had reason to apprehend they were. But, O
my Lucy, they seemed to believe, that marriage
would make amends for every outrage.
Here let me conclude this letter. I have a great
deal more to say.
LETTER XXX.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
WHAT a plague, said the wretch to the women, do
you come in for? I thought you knew your own sex
better than to mind a woman's squalling They are
always ready, said the odious fellow, to put us in
mind of the occasion we ought to give them for cry
ing out. I have not offered the least rudeness —
I hope not, Sir. I hope my house — So sweet a
creature —
Dear blessed, blessed woman (frantic with terror,
and mingled joy, to find myself in better hands than
I expected — Standing up, and then sitting down, I
believe at every sentence) Protect me! Save me! Be
my advocate ! Indeed I have not deserved this trea
cherous treatment. Indeed I am a good sort of crea
ture (I scarce knew what I said) : all my friends love
me : they will break their hearts, if any misfortune
befal me : they are all good people: you would love
them dearly if you knew them : Sir Hargrave may
have better and richer wives than I : pray prevail
228 THE HISTORY OF
upon him to spare me to my friends, for their sake.
I will forgive him for all he has done.
Nay, dear lady, if Sir Hargrave will make you
his lawful and true wife, there can be no harm
done, surely.
I will, I will, Mrs. Awberry, said he. I have pro
mised, and I will perform. But if she stand in her
own light — She expects nothing from my morals — If
she stand in her own light; and looked fiercely—
God protect me! said I: God protect me !
The gentleman is without, Sir, said the woman.
0 how my heart, at that moment, seemed to be at
my throat ! What gentleman ? thought I. Some one
come to save me ! — O no !
And instantly entered the most horrible-looking
clergyman that I ever beheld.
This, as near as I can recollect, is his description
— A vasttall, big-boned, splay-footed man. A shabby
gown ; as shabby a wig ; a huge red pimply face ; and
a nose that hid half of it, when he looked on one
side, and he seldom looked fore-right when I saw
him. He had a dog's-eared common-prayer-book in
his hand, which once had been gilt ; opened, horrid
sight! at the page of matrimony !
Yet I was so intent upon making a friend, when a
man, a clergyman appeared, that I heeded not, at
his entrance, his frightful visage, as I did afterwards.
1 pushed by Sir Hargrave, turning him half round
with my vehemence, and made Mrs. Awberry totter;
and throwing myself at the clergyman's feet, Man
of God, said I, my hands clasped, and held up ; Man
of God ! Gentleman ! Worthy man ! — A good cler
gyman must be all this ! — If ever you had children !
save a poor creature ! basely tricked away from all
her friends! innocent! thinking no harm to any
body ! I would not hurt a worm ! I love every-body!
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON.
—Save me from violence ! Give not your aid to
sanctify a base action.
The man snuffled his answer through his nose.
When he opened his pouched mouth, the tobacco
hung about his great yellow teeth. He squinted upon
me, and took my clasped hands, which were buried
in his huge hand : Rise, madam ! Kneel not to me !
No harm is intended you. One question only : Who
Is that gentleman before me, in the silver-laced
clothes ? What is his name? —
He is Sir Har grave Pollexfen, Sir : a wicked, a
Tery wicked man, for all he looks so !
The vile wretch stood smiling, and enjoying my
distress.
O madam ! A very hon-our-able man ! bowing,
like a scyophant, to Sir Hargrave.
And who pray, madam, are you ? What is your
name?
Harriet Byron, Sir: a poor innocent creature
(looking at my dress) though I make such a vile ap
pearance — Good Sir, your pity ! And I sunk down
again at his feet.
Of Northamptonshire, madam ? You are a single
woman ! Your uncle's name —
Is Selby, Sir. A very good man — I will reward
you, Sir, as the most grateful heart —
All is fair! All is above-board : all is as it was re
presented. I am above bribes, madam. You will be
the happiest of women before day-break— Good
people ! — The three women advanced.
Then I saw what an ugly wretch he was !
Sir Hargrave advanced. The two horrid creatures
raised me between them. Sir Hargrave took my
struggling hand ; and then I saw another ill-looking
man enter the room, who I suppose was to give me
to the hated man.
Dearly beloved, began to read the snuffling mon
ster — " x
230 THE HISTORY OF
0 my Lucy ! Does not your heart ake for your
Harriet ? Mine has seemed to turn over and over,
round and round, I don't know how, at the recital.
— It was ready to choak me at the time.
1 must break off, for a few minutes.
LETTER XXXI.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
I WAS again like one frantic. Read no more ! said
and, in my frenzy, dashed the book out of the mi
nister's hand, if a minister he was. I beg your par
don, Sir, said I; but you must read no further. I am
basely betrayed hither. I cannot, I will not, be his.
Proceed, proceed, said Sir Hargrave, taking my
hand by force ; virago as she is, I will own her for
my wife — Are you the gentle, the civil, Miss Byron,
madam ? looking sneeringly in my face.
Alas ! my Lucy, I was no virago : I was in a perfect
frenzy : but it was not an unhappy frenzy ; since in
all probability it kept me from falling into fits ; and
fits, the villain had said, should not save me.
Dearly beloved, again snuffled the wretch. O my
Lucy ! I shall never love these words. How may
odious circumstances invert the force of the -kindest
words ! Sir Hargrave still detained my struggling
hand.
I stamped, and threw myself to the length of my
arm, as he held my hand. No dearly beloved's, said I.
I was just beside myself. What to say, what to do,
I knew not.
The cruel wretch laughed at me ; No dearly be
loved's ! repeated he, Very comical, 'faith, and
laughed again : but proceed, proceed, doctor.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 231
We are gathered together here in the sight of God,
read hje on.
This affected me still more. I adjure you, Sir, to
the minister, by that God in whose sight you read
we are gathered together, that you proceed no fur
ther. I adjure you, Sir Hargrave, in the same tre
mendous name, that you stop further proceedings.
My life take : with all my heart, take my life : but
my hand never, never, will I join with yours.
Proceed, doctor: doctor, pray proceed, said the
vile Sir Hargrave. When the day dawns, she will
be glad to own her marriage.
Proceed at your peril, Sir, said I. If you are really
and truly a minister of that God whose presence what
you have read supposes, do not proceed : do not
make me desperate. — Madam, turning to the widow,
you are a mother, and have given me room to hope
you are a good woman ; look upon me as if I were
one of those daughters, whom I see before me : could
you see one of them thus treated? Dear young wo
men, turning to each, can you unconcernedly look
on, and see a poor creature, tricked, betrayed, and
thus violently, basely, treated, and not make my case
your own ? Speak for me ! Plead for me ! Be my ad
vocates ! Each of you, if ye are women, plead for
me, as you would yourselves wish to be pleaded for,
in my circumstances, and were thus barbarously
used!
The young women wept. The mother was moved.
I wonder I kept my head. My brain was on fire.
Still, still, the unmoved Sir Hargrave cried out,
Proceed, proceed, doctor : to-morrow before noon,
all will be as it should be.
The man who stood aloof (the sliest, sodden-faced
creature I ever saw) came nearer — To the question,
doctor, and to my part, if you please ! — Am not I
her father?— To the question, doctor, if you please!
x 2
THE HISTORY OF
— The gentlewoman will prepare her for what is to
follow.
O thou man! of heart the most obdurate and vile!
And will ye, looking at every person, one hand held
up (for still the vile man griped the other quite be
numbed hand in his iron paw) and adjuring each,
Will ye see this violence done to a poor young crea
ture ? — A soul, gentlewomen, you may have to an
swer for. I can die. Never, never, will I be his.
Let us women talk to the lady by ourselves, Sir
Hargrave. Pray your honour, let us talk to her
by ourselves.
Ay, ay, ay, said the parson, by all means : let the
ladies talk to one another, Sir. She may be brought
to consider.
He let go my hand. The widow took it. And
was leading me out of the room — Not up-stairs, I
hope, madam, said I.
You shan't then, said she. Come, Sally ; come,
Deb ; let us women go out together.
They led me into a little room adjoining to the
parlour : and then, my spirits subsiding, I thought
1 should have fainted way. I had more hartshorn and
water poured down my throat.
When they had brought me a little to myself, they
pleaded with me Sir Hargrave's great estate. — What
are riches to me ? Dirt, dirt, dirt ! I hate them.
They cannot purchase peace of mind: I want not
riches.
They pleaded his honourable love — I my invin
cible aversion.
He was a handsome man — The most odious in
my eyes of the human species. Never, never, should
my consent be had to sanctify such a baseness.
My danger ! And that they should not be able
to save me from worse treatment —
How! — Not able! — Ladies, madam, is not this1
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 233
your own house ? Cannot you raise a neighbourhood ?
Have you no neighbours? A thousand pounds will I
order to be paid into your hands for a present before
the week is out; I pledge my honour for the pay
ment ; if you will but save me from a violence, that
no worthy woman can see offered to a distressed
young creature!— A thousand pounds! — Dear ladies!
Only to save me, and see me safe to my friends!
The wretches in the next room, no doubt, heard
all that passed. In at that moment came Sir Har-
grave: Mrs. Awberry, said he, with a visage swell
ed with malice, young ladies, we keep you up; we
disturb you. Pray retire to your own rest : leave me
to talk with this perverse woman. She is mine.
Pray, Sir Hargrave, said Mrs. Awberry —
Leave her to me, I say : — Miss Byron, you shall
be mine. Your Grevilles, madam, your Fenwicks,
your Ormes, when they know the pains and the ex-
pence I have been at, to secure you, shall confess
me their superior — Shall confess-
In wickedness, in cruelty, Sir, you are every
man's superior.
You talk of cruelty, Miss Byron! triumphing
over scores of prostrate lovers, madam ! You re
member your treatment of me, madam ! kneeling,
like an abject wretch, at your feet ! Kneeling for
pity ! But no pity could touch your heart, madam:
— Ungrateful, proud girl ! — Yet am I not humbling
you ; take notice of that : I am not humbling you :
I am proposing to exalt you, madam.
Vile, vile debasement, said I.
To exalt Miss Byron into Lady Pollexfen. And
yet if you hold not out your hand to me —
He would have snatched my hand. I put it behind
me. He would have snatched the other : I put that
behind me too: and the vile wretch would then have
kissed my undefended neck: but, with both my
x3
234- THE HISTORY OF
hands I pushed his audacious forehead from me.
Charming creature ! he called me, with passion in
his look and accent : then, Cruel, proud, ungrate
ful : and swore by his Maker, that if I would not
give my hand instantly, instead of exalting me, he
would humble me. Ladies, pray withdraw, said he.
Leave her to me : either Lady Pollexfen, or what
I please ; rearing himself proudly up ! She may be
happy if she will. Leave her to me.
Pray, Sir, said the youngest of the two daughters;
and wept for me.
Greatly hurt, indeed, to be the wife of a man of
my fortune and consequence ! But leave her to me,
I say. — I will* soon bring down her pride : What a
devil, am I to creep, beg, pray, entreat, and only for
a wife? But, madam, said the insolent wretch, you
will be mine upon easier terms, perhaps.
Madam, pray madam, said the widow to me, con
sider what you are about, and whom you refuse.
Can you have a handsomer man? Can you have a
man of a greater fortune ? Sir Hargrave means
nothing but what is honourable. You are in his
power —
In his power, madam ! returned I : I am in yours.
You are mistress of this house. I claim the protec
tion of it. Have you not neighbours? Your protec
tion f put myself under. Then clasping my arms
about her, Lock me from him till you can have help
to secure to you the privilege of your own house ;
and deliver me safe to my friends, and I will share
my fortune with your two daughters.
The wicked man took the mother and youngest
daughter each by her hand, after he had disengaged
the former from my clasping arms, and led them to
the door. The elder followed them of her own ac
cord. They none of them struggled against going.
I begged, prayed, besought them not to go, and
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 235
when they did, would have thrust myself out with
them : but the wretch, in shutting them out, squeezed
me dreadfully, as I was half in, half out; and my nose
gushed out with blood.
I screamed: he seemed frighted: but instantly re
covering myself — So, so, you have done your worst \
— You have killed me, I hope. I was out of breath ;
my stomach was very much pressed, and one of my
arms was bruised. I have the marks still ; for he clapt
to the door with violence, not knowing, to do him
justice, that I was so forward in the door-way.
I was in dreadful pain. 1 talked half wildly, I re
member. I threw myself in a chair — So, so, you
have killed me, I hope — Well, now I hope, now I
hope you are satisfied. Now may you moan over
the poor creature you have destroyed : for he ex
pressed great tenderness and consternation ; and I,
for my part, felt such pains in my bosom, that having
never felt such before, I really thought I was bruised
to death : repeating my foolish So, so — But I forgive
you, said I — Only, Sir, call to the gentlewomen, Sir
— Retire, Sir. Let me have my own sex only about
me. My head swam : my eyes failed me ; and I
fainted quite away.
LETTER XXXII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
I UNDERSTOOD afterwards that he was in the most
dreadful consternation. He had fastened the door
upon me and himself; and for a few moments was
not enough present to himself to open it. Yet cry
ing out upon his God to have mercy upon him, and
running about the room, the women hastily rapped
236 THE HISTORY OF
at the door. Then he ran to it, opened it, cursed
himself, and besought them to recover me, if pos
sible.
They said I had death in my face : they lamented
over me : my nose had done bleeding : but, careful of
his own safety in the midst of his terror, he took my
bloody handkerchief; if I did not recover, he said,
that should not appear against him ; and he hasted
into the next room, and thrust it into the fire ; by
which were sitting, it seems, the minister and his
helper, over some burnt brandy.
O gentlemen ! cried the wretch, nothing can be
done to-night. Take this ; and gave them money.
The lady is in a fit. I wish you well home.
The younger daughter reported this to me after
wards, and what follows : They had desired the maid,
it seems, to bring them more firing, and a jug of ale ;
and they would sit in the chimney-corner, they said,
till peep of day : but the same young woman who
was taken off from her errand, to assist me, finding
me, as they all thought, not likely to recover, ran in
to them, and declared, that the lady was dead, cer
tainly dead ; and what, said she, will become of us
all ? This terrified the two men. They said, It was
then time for them to be gone. Accordingly, taking
each of them another dram, they snatched up their
hats and sticks, and away they hurried ; hoping, the
doctor said, that, as they were innocent, and only
meant to serve the gentleman, their names, whatever
happened, would not be called in question.
When I came a little to myself, I found the three
women only with me. I was in a cold sweat, all
over shivering. There was no fire in that room :
they led me into the parlour, which the two men
had quitted ; and sat me down in an elbow-chair ;
for I could hardly stand, or support myself; and
chafed my temples with Hungary-water.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. . 237
Wretched creatures, men of this cast, my Lucy,
thus to sport with the healths and happiness of poor
creatures whom they pretend to love ! I am afraid I
never shall be what I was. At times I am very sen
sible at my stomach of this violent squeeze.
The mother and elder sister left me soon after,
and went to Sir Hargrave. I can only guess at the
result of their deliberations by what followed.
The younger sister, with compassionate frankness,
answered all my questions, and let me know all the
above particulars. Yet she wondered that I could
refuse so handsome and so rich a man as Sir Har
grave.
She boasted much of their reputation. Her mo
ther would not do an ill thing, she said, for the
world : and she had a brother who had a place in
the Custom-house, and was as honest a man, though
she said it, as any in it. She owned that she knew
my vile servant ; and praised his fidelity to the ma
sters he had served, in such high terms, as if she
thought all duties were comprised in that one, of
• obeying his principles, right or wrong. Mr. Wil
liam, she said, was a pretty man, a genteel man, and
she believed he was worth money ; and she was sure
would make an excellent husband. I soon found
that the simple girl was in love with this vile, this
specious fellow. She could not bear to hear me
hint any -thing in his disfavour, as, by way of warn
ing to her, I would have done. But she was sure
Mr. William was a downright honest man ; and that
if he were guilty of any bad thing, it was by com
mand of those to whom he owed duty ; and they are
to be answerable for that, you know, madam.
We were broke in upon, as I was intending to
ask more questions (for I find this Wilson was the
prime agent in all this mischief) when the elder
238 THE HISTORY OF
sister called out the younger : and instantly came
in Sir Hargrave.
He took a chair, and sat down by me, one leg
thrown over the knee of the other ; his elbow upon
that knee, and his hand supporting his bowed down
head ; biting his lips ; looking at me, then from me,
then at me again, five or six times, as in malice.
Ill-natured, spiteful, moody wretch! thought I
(trembling at his strange silence, after such hurt as
he had done me, and what I had endured, and still
felt in my stomach and arm) what an odious crea
ture thou art !
At last I broke silence. I thought I would be as
mild as I could, and not provoke him to do me far
ther mischief. Well have you done, Sir Hargrave,
(have you not ?) to commit such a violence upon a
poor young creature that never did nor thought you
evil!
I paused. He was silent.
What distraction have you given to my poor cou
sin Reeves's ! How my heart bleeds for them !
I stopt. He was still silent.
I hope, Sir, you are sorry for the mischief you
have done me ; and for the pain you have given to
my friends ! — I hope, Sir —
Cursed ! said he.
I stopt, thinking he would go on : but he said no
more ; only changing his posture ; and then resum
ing it.
These people, Sir, seem to be honest people. I
hope you designed only to terrify me. Your bring
ing me into no worse company is an assurance to
me that you meant better than —
Devils all ! interrupted he —
I thought he was going on ; but he grinned, shook
his head, and then again reclined it upon his hand.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 239
I forgive you, Sir, the pain you have given me. —
But my friends — As soon as day breaks (and I hope
that is not far off) I will get the women to let my
cousin Reeves —
Then up he started — Miss Byron, said he, you
are a woman; a true woman — And held up his
hand, clenched. I knew not what to think of his
intention.
Miss Byron, proceeded he, after a pause, you are
the most consummate hypocrite that I ever knew in
my life : and yet I thought that the best of you all
could fall into fits and swoonings whenever you
pleased.
/ was now silent. I trembled.
Damn'd fool ! ass ! blockhead ! woman's fool ! —
I ought to be d — n'd for my credulous folly ! — I tell
you, Miss Byron— Then he looked at me as if he
were crazy ; and walked two or three times about
the room.
To be dying one half-hour, and the next to look
so provoking —
I was still silent.
I could curse myself for sending away the parson.
I thought I had known something of women's tricks
—But yet your arts, your hypocrisy, shall not serve
you, madam. What I failed in here, shall be done
elsewhere. By the great God of heaven, it shall.
I wept. I could not then speak.
Can't you go into fits again ? Can't you ? said the
barbarian ; with an air of a piece with his words ;
and using other words of the lowest reproach.
God deliver me, prayed I to myself, from the
hands of this madman!
I arose, and as the candle stood near the glass, I
saw in it my vile figure, in this abominable habit,
to which, till then, I had paid little attention. O
how I scorned myself!
24?0 THE HI S?ORt OF
Pray, Sir Hargrave, said I, let me beg that you
will not terrify me further. I will forgive you for
all you have hitherto done, and place it to my own
account, as a proper punishment for consenting to
be thus marked for a vain and foolish creature.
Your abuse, Sir, give me leave to say, is low and
unmanly: but in the light of a punishment I will own
it to be all deserved : and let here my punishment
end, and I will thank you ; and forgive you with my
whole heart.
Your fate is determined, Miss Byron.
Just then came in a servant-maid with a capu
chin, who whispered something to him : to which he
answered, That's well —
He took the capuchin ; the maid withdrew ; and
approached me with it. I started, trembled, and was
ready to faint. I caught hold of the back of the
elbow-chair.
Your fate is determined, madam, repeated the sa
vage — Here, put this on— Now fall into fits again
— Put this on !
Pray, Sir Hargrave —
And pray, Miss Byron : what has not been com
pleted here, shall be completed in a safer place ;
and that in my own way — Put this on, I tell you.
Your compliance may yet befriend you.
Where are the gentlewomen ? Where are —
Gone to rest, madam — John, Frank, called he
out.
In came two men-servants.
Pray, Sir Hargrave — Lord protect me — Pray, Sir
Hargrave — Where are the gentlewomen? — Lord
protect me !
Then running to the door, against which one of
the men stood — Man, stand out of the way, said I.
But he did not : he only bowed.
I cried out, Mrs. 1 forget your name: Miss — »-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 241
And t'other Miss 1 forget your names If
you are good creatures, as I hoped you were —
I called as loud as my fears would let me.
At last came in the elder sister — O madam ! good
young gentlewoman ! I am glad you are come, said I.
And so am I, said the wicked man— Pray, Miss
Sally, put on this lady's capuchin.
Lord bless me ! for why ? for* what ? I have no
capuchin !
I would not permit her to put it on, as she would
have done.
The savage then wrapt his arms about mine, and
made me so very sensible, by his force, of the pain
I had had by the squeeze of the door, that I could
not help crying out. The young woman put on
the capuchin, whether I would or not.
Now, Miss Byron, said he, make yourself easy ;
or command a fit, it is all one : my end will be bet
ter served by the latter — Miss Sally, give orders.
She ran out with the candle. Frank, give me the
cloak, said SirHargrave.
The fellow had a red cloak on his arm. His bar
barous master took it from him. To your posts,
said he.
The two men withdrew in haste. Now, my dear
est life, said he, with an air of insult, as I thought,
you command your fate, if you are easy.
He threw the cloak about me.
I begged, prayed, would have kneeled to him ;
but all was in vain : the tyger-hearted man, as Mr.
Greville had truly called him, muffled me up in it,
and by force carried me through a long entry to the
fore-door. There was ready a chariot-and-six ; and
that Sally was at the door with a lighted candle.
I called out to her. I called out for her mother ;
for the other sister. I besought him to let me say
but six words to the widow.
242 THE HISTORY OF
But no widow was to appear ; no younger sister ;
she was perhaps more tender-hearted than the elder :
and in spite of all my struggles, prayers, resistance,
he lifted me into the chariot.
Men on horseback were about it. I thought that
Wilson was one of them ; and so it proved. Sir
Hargrave said to that fellow, You know what tale to
tell, if you meet with impertinents. And in he
came himself.
I screamed. Scream on, my dear, upbraidingly
said he ; and barbarously mocked me, imitating, low
wretch ! the bleating of a sheep [Could you not
have killed him for this, my Lucy ?] Then rearing
himself up, Now am I lord of Miss Byron ! exulted he.
Still I screamed for help ; and he put his hand
before my mouth, though vowing honour and such
sort of stuff; and, with his unmanly roughness, made
me bite my lip. And away lashed the coachman
with your poor Harriet.
LETTER XXXIII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
As the chariot drove by houses, I cried out for help
once or twice, at setting out. But under pretence
of preventing my taking cold, he tied a handkerchief
over my face, head, and mouth, having first muffled
me up in the cloak ; pressing against my arm with
his whole weight, so that I had not my hands at
liberty. And when he had done, he seized them,
and held them both in his left-hand, while his right-
arm thrown round me, kept me fast on the seat :
and except that now and then my struggling head
gave me a little opening, I was blinded.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 243
But at one place on the road, just after I had
screamed, and made another effort to get my hands
free, I heard voices ; and immediately the chariot
stopt. Then how my heart was filled with hope !
But, alas ! it was momentary. I heard one of his
men say (that Wilson I believe) The best of hus
bands, I assure you, Sir ; and she is the worst of
wives.
I screamed again. Ay, scream and be d — n'd, I
heard said in a stranger's voice, if that be the case.
Poor gentleman ! I pity him with all my heart. And
immediately the coachman drove on again.
The vile wretch laughed ; That's you, my dear ;
and hugged me round. You are the d — n'd wife.
And again he laughed : By my soul, I am a charm
ing contriver ! Greville, Fenwick, Orme, where are
you now ? — By my soul, this will be a pretty story
to tell when all your fears are over, my Byron !
I was ready to faint several times. I begged for
air : and when we were in an open road, and I sup
pose there was nobody in sight, he vouchsafed to
pull down the blinding handkerchief, but kept it over
my mouth ; so that, except now-and-then that I
struggled it aside with my head (and my neck is
still, my dear, very stiff with my efforts to free my
face) I could only make a murmuring kind of noise.
The curtain of the fore-glass was pulled down,
and generally the canvas on both sides drawn up.
But I was sure to be made acquainted when we
came near houses, by his care again to blind and
stifle me.
A little before we were met by my deliverer, I
had, by getting one hand free, unmuffled myself so
far as to see (as I had guessed once or twice before
by the stone pavements) that we were going through
a town ; and then I again vehemently screamed.
But he had the cruelty to thrust a handkerchief
Y 2
244 THE HISTORY O*
into my mouth, so that I was almost strangled ; and
xny mouth was hurt, and is still sore, with that and
his former violence of the like nature.
Indeed, he now-and-then made apologies for the
cruelty, to which, he said, he was compelled, by my
invincible obstinacy, to have recourse. I was sorely
hurt, he said, to be the wife of a man of his consi
deration ! But I should be that or worse. He was
in for it (he said more than once) and must proceed.
I might see that all my resistance was in vain. He
had me in his net : and, d — n him, if he were not
revenged for all the trouble I had given him. You
keep no terms with me, my Byron, said he once ;
and d — n me, if I keep any with you !
I doubted not his malice : his love had no ten
derness in it : but how could I think of being con
senting, as I may say, to such barbarous usage, and
by a man so truly odious to me ? What a slave had
I been in spirit, could I have qualified on such
villanous treatment as I had met with ! or had I
been able to desert myself!
At one place the chariot drove out of the road,
over rough ways, and little hillocks, as I thought,
by its rocking; and then, it stopping, he let go
my hands, and endeavoured to sooth me. He beg
ged I would be pacified, and offered, if I would for
bear crying out for help, to leave my eyes un-
muffled all the rest of the way. But I would not,
I told him, give such a sanction to his barbarous
violence.
On the chariot's stopping, one of his men came
up, and put an handkerchief into his master's hands,
in which were some cakes and sweet-meats ; and
gave him also a bottle of sack, with a glass. Sir
Hargrave was very urgent with me to take some
of the sweet-meats, and to drink a glass of the wine ;
t&it I had neither stomach nor will to touch either.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 245
He eat himself very cordially. God forgive me,
I wished in my heart, there were pins and needles
in every bit he put into his mouth.
He drank two glasses of the wine. Again he
urged me. I said, I hoped I had eat and drank my
last.
You have no dependence upon my honour, ma
dam, said the villain ; so cannot be disappointed
much, do what I will. Ungrateful, proud, vain, ob
stinate, he called me.
What signifies, said he, shewing politeness to a
woman, who has shewn none to me, though she was
civil to every other man ? Ha, ha, ha, hah ! What,
my sweet Byron, I don't hit jour fancy ! — You dont
like my morals ! laughing again. My lovely fly, said
the insulting wretch, hugging me round in the
cloak, how prettily have 1 wrapt you about in my
web !
Such a provoking low wretch ! — I struggled to
free myself ; and unhooked the curtain of the fore-
glass : but he wrapt me about the closer, and said
he would give me his garter for my girdle, if I would
not sit still, and be orderly. Ah, my charming
Byron ! said he, your opportunity is over — All your
struggles will not avail you — Will not avail you.
That's a word of your own, you know. I will,
however, forgive you, if you promise to love me
now. But if you stay till I get you to the allotted
place ; then, madam, take what follows.
I saw that I was upon a large, wild, heath-like
place, between two roads, as it seemed. I asked
nothing about my journey's end. All I had to
hope for as to an escape (though then I began to
despair of it) was upon the road, or in some town.
My journey's end, I knew, must be the beginning
of new trials ; for I was resolved to suffer death
rather than to marry him. What I now was most
Y 3
246 THE HISTORY OF
apprehensive about, was, of falling into fits ; and I
answered to his barbarous insults as little as possi
ble, that I might not be provoked beyond the little
strength I had left me.
Three or four times he offered to kiss me ; and
cursed my pride for resisting him ; making him clasp
a cloud, was his speech (aiming at wit) instead of
his Juno ; calling the cloak a cloud.
And now, my dear Byron, said he, if you will
not come to a compromise with me, I must dress
you again for the journey. We will stop at a town
a little further (beckoning to one of his men, and,
on his approaching, whispering to him, his whole
body out of the chariot) and there you shall alight ;
and a very worthy woman, to whom I shall intro
duce you, will persuade you, perhaps, to take
refreshment, though I cannot.
You are a very barbarous man, Sir Hargrave. I
have the misfortune to be in your power. You
may dearly repent the usage I have already re
ceived from you. You have made my life of no es
timation with me. I will not contend.
And tears ran down my cheeks. Indeed I thought
my heart was broke.
He wrapt me up close, and tied the handkerchief
about my mouth and head. I was quite passive.
The chariot had not many minutes got into the
great road again, over the like rough and sometimes
plashy ground, when it stopt on a dispute between
the coachman, and the coachman of another chariot-
and-six, as it proved.
Sir Hargrave had but just drawn my handkerchief
closer to my eyes, when this happened. Hinder not
my. tears from flowing, said I ; struggling to keep
my eyes free, the cloak enough muffling me, and
the handkerchief being over my mouth ; so that
my voice could be but just heard by him, as I ima
gine.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 24-7
He looked out of his chariot, to see the occasion
of this stop ; and then I found means to disengage
one hand.
I heard a gentleman's voice directing his own
coachman to give way.
I then pushed up the handkerchief with my disen
gaged hand, from my mouth, and pulled it down
from over my eyes, and cried out for help ; Help
for God's sake !
A man's voice (it was my deliverer's, as it hap
pily proved) bid Sir Hargrave's coachman proceed
at his peril.
Sir Hargrave, with terrible oaths and curses, or
dered him to proceed, and to drive through all op
position.
The gentleman called Sir Hargrave by his name ;
and charged him with being upon a bad design.
The vile wretch said, he had only secured a run
away wife, eloped to, and intending to elope from,
a masquerade, to her adulterer [Horrid !] he put
aside the cloak, and appealed to my dress.
I cried out, No, no, no, five or six times repeated;
but could say no more at that instant, holding up
then both my disengaged hands for protection.
The wicked man endeavoured to muffle me up
again, and to force the handkerchief, which I had
then got under my chin, over my mouth ; and bru
tally cursed me.
The gentleman would not be satisfied with Sir
Hargrave's story. He would speak to me. Sir
Hargrave called him impertinent, and other names ;
and asked, Who the devil he was ? with rage and
contempt. — The gentleman, however, asked me,
and with an air that promised deliverance, if I were
Sir Hargrave's wife.
No, no, no, no — I could only say.
For my own part, I could have no scruple, dis-
248 THE HISTORY OF
tressed as I was, and made desperate, to throw my
self into the protection, and even into the arms,
of my deliverer; though a very fine young gen
tleman. It would have been very hard, had I fallen
from bad to bad ; had the sacred name of protector
been abused by another Sir Hargrave, who would
have had the additional crime of betraying a confi
dence to answer for. But, however this had proved,
an escape from the present evil was all I had in my
head at the time.
But you may better conceive, than I can express,
the terror I was in, when Sir Hargrave drew his
sword, and pushed at the gentleman with such words
as denoted (for I could not look that way) he had
done him mischief. But when I found my oppressor,
my low-meaning, and soon after low-laid oppressor,
pulled out of the chariot, by the brave, the gallant
man (which was done with such force, as made the
chariot rock) and my protector safe ; I was as near
fainting with joy, as before I had been with terror.
I had shaken off the cloak, and untied the handker
chief.
He carried me in his arms (I could not walk) to
his own chariot.
I heard Sir Hargrave curse, swear, and threaten.
I was glad, however, he was not dead.
Mind him not, madam, fear him not, said Sir
Charles Grandison, [You know his noble name, my
Lucy] : Coachman, drive not over your master :
take care of your master; or some such words he
said, as he lifted me into his own chariot. He came
not in, but shut the chariot-door, as soon as he had
seated me.
He just surveyed, as it were, the spot, and bid a
servant let Sir Hargrave know who he was ; and
then came back to me.
Partly through terror, partly through weakness,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 249
1 had sunk to the bottom of the chariot. He opened
the door, entered, and, with all the tenderness of a
brother, soothed me, and lifted me on the seat once
more. He ordered his coachman to drive back
to Colnebrook. In accents of kindness, he told me,
that he had there at present the most virtuous and
prudent of .sisters, to whose care he would commit
me, and then proceed on his journey to town.
How irresistibly welcome to me was his support
ing arm, thrown round me, as we flew back, com
pared to that of the vile Sir Hargrave 1
Mr. Reeves has given you an account from the
angelic sister — O my Lucy, they are a pair of
angels !
I have written a long, long letter, or rather five
letters in one, of my distresses, of my deliverance :
and, when my heart is stronger, I will say more of
the persons, as well as minds, of this excellent
brother and his sister.
But what shall I do with my gratitude ? O my
dear, I am overwhelmed with my gratitude : I can
only express it in silence before them. Every look,
if it be honest to my heart, however, tells it : re
verence mingles with my gratitude — Yet there is so
much ease, so much sweetness, in the behaviour of
both — O my Lucy ! Did I not find that my vene
ration of both is equal ; did I not, on examination,
find, that the amiable sister is as dear tome, from her
experienced tenderness, as her brother from his re
membered bravery (which must needs mingle awe
with my esteem) ; in short, that I love the sister,
and revere the brother ; I should be afraid of my
gratitude.
I have over-written myself. I am tired. O my
grandmamma, you have never yet, while I have
been in London, sent me your ever valued blessing
under your own hand : yet, I am sure I had it ; and?
250 THE HISTORY OF
your blessings, my dear uncle and aunt Selby ; and
your prayers, my Lucy, my Nancy, and all my
loves ; else my deliverance had not perhaps followed
my presumptuous folly, in going dressed out, like
the fantastic wretch I appeared to be, at a vile, a
foolish, masquerade. — How often, throughout the
several stages of my distress, and even in my deli
verance, did 1 turn my eye to myself, and from my
self, with the disgust that made a part, and that not
a light one, of my punishment !
And so much, my Lucy, for masquerades, and
masquerade dresses, for ever !
Pray let not any-body unnecessarily be acquainted
with this shocking affair : particularly neither Mr.
Greville nor Mr. Fenwick. It is very probable,
that they (especially Mr. Greville) would be for
challenging Sir Hargrave, were it only on a suppo
sition that it would give him an interest in me in the
eye of the world. You know that Mr. Greville watches
for all opportunities to give himself consequence
with me.
Were any farther mischief to happen to any-body,
I should be grieved beyond measure. Hitherto I
have reason to think, that a transaction so shocking
is not very unhappily concluded. May the vile
man sit himself down satisfied, and I shall be will
ing to do so too ; provided I never more behold his
face.
* *
Mr. Reeves will send you, with the above packet,
a letter from Sir Charles Grandison, inclosing one
from that vile Wilson. I can write no more just
now, and they will sufficiently explain themselves.
Adieu, my dearest Lucy. I need not say how
much I am, and ever will be,
Your faithful and affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 251
LETTER XXXIV.
SIR CHA. GRANDISON TO ARCH. REEVES, ESQ.
DEAR SIR, Canterbury, February 22.
THE inclosed long letter is just now brought to me.
I pretend not to judge of the writer's penitence.
Yet his confessions seem ingenuous ; and he was not
under any obligation to put them on paper.
As I presume that you will not think it adviseable
to make the ineffectual attempt upon Miss Byron
public by a prosecution, perhaps your condescend
ing to let the man's sister know, that her brother,
if in earnest, may securely pursue the honest pur
poses he mentions, may save the poor wretch from
taking such courses as might be fatal, not only to
himself, but to innocent persons who otherwise may
suffer by his being made desperate.
The man, as you will see by his letter, if you had
not a still stronger proof, has abilities to do mischief.
He has been in bad hands, as he tells us, from his
youth upwards, or he might have been an useful
member of society. He is a young man ; and if yet
he could be made so, his reformation will take from
the number of the profligate, and add to that of the
hopeful ; and who knows how wide the circle of his
acquaintance is, and how many of them may be in
fluenced by his example either way? If he marry
the not-dishonest young woman, to whom he seems
to be contracted, may not your lenity be a means of
securing a whole future family on the side of moral
honesty ?
His crime, as the attempt was frustrated, is not
capital : and, not to mention the service of such an
evidence as this, should Sir Hargrave seek for a legal
redress, as he sometimes weakly threatens, my hope
252 THE HISTORY OF
makes me see a further good that may be brought
about by this man's reformation : wicked masters
cannot execute their base views upon the persons of
the innocent, without the assistance of wicked ser
vants. What a nest of vipers may be crushed at
once, or, at least, rendered unhurtful, by depriving
the three monsters he names of the aid of such an
agent? Men who want to save appearances, and have
estates to forfeit, will sometimes be honest of neces
sity, rather than put themselves into the power of
untried villains.
You will be so good as to make my compliments
to your lady, and to our lovely ward. You see, Sir,
that I join myself with you in the honour of that
agreeable relation.
I hope the dear lady has perfectly recovered her
health and spirits. I am, good Mr. Reeves,
Your most faithful and obedient servant,
CHARLES GRANDISON.
LETTER XXXV.
TO SIR CHARLES GRANDISQN, BART.
Saturday, February 18.
IN what an odious light must that wretch appear be
fore the worthiest of men, who cannot but abhor
himself.
I am the unhappy man who was hired into the ser
vice of the best of young ladies : whom I was the
means of betraying into the power of Sir Hargrave
Pollexfen, from the ball in the Hay-market on
Thursday night last.
Your honour has made yourself an interest in Miss
Byron's fate, as I may say, by your powerful protec*
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 253
tion. Pardon me if I give you some account of my
self, and of transactions which perhaps-will otherwise
never be known : and this in justice to all round.
My parentage was honest. My education was
above my parentage. I set out with good principles :
but I fell into a bad service. I was young, and of a
good natural disposition; but had not virtue enough
to resist a temptation : I could not say No, to an
unlawful thing, when my principals commanded my
assent.
I was, at first setting out, by favour of friends,
taken as clerk to a merchant. In process of time I
transacted his business at the Custom-house. He
taught me to make light of oaths of office ; and this
by degrees made me think light of all moral obliga
tions, and laid the foundation of my ruin.
My master's name was Bagenhall, He died ; and
I was to seek employ. His brother succeeded to his
fortune, which was very large: he was brought up to
•no business : he was a gentleman : his seat is near
Reading. I was recommended by him to the service
of a gentleman who was nominated to go abread on
a foreign embassy. I will name his name, lest your
honour would imagine I have any design to evade
the strictest truth ; Sir Christopher Lucas ; I was to
be this gentleman's master of the horse abroad.
The first service my new master employed me in,
was to try to get for him the pretty daughter of an
honest farmer.
I had been out of place for a twelvemonth. Had
I had twenty shillings aforehand in the world, I
would, I think, have said No. Nevertheless I con
sulted, in confidence, my late master's brother upon
it. The advice he gave me, was, not to boggle at it :
But if, he said, I could manage the matter so, as to
cheat Sir Christopher, and get the girl for him, and
keep the secret, he would give me 501. I abhorred
VOL. I. 7,
254? THE HISTORY OF
the double treachery of young Mr. Bagenhall : but
undertook to serve Sir Christopher; and carried on a
treaty with the farmer for his daughter ; as if she
were to be the wife of Sir Christopher; but not to be
owned till he returned from abroad ; no, not even if
she should prove with child.
I found, in the course of my visits at the farmer's,
so much honesty both in father and mother, and so
much innocence in the daughter, that my heart re
lented; and I took an opportunity to reveal Sir Chris
topher's base design to them ; for the girl was de
signed to be ruined the very first moment that Sir
Christopher could be alone with her. Your honour
may believe, that I enjoined all three strict secrecy.
Nevertheless this contriving devil of a master
ibund a way to get the young woman by other
means ; and, in amorous dalliance, she told him to
whom he was obliged for not succeeding before.
In rage he turned me out of his service, in the
most disgraceful manner ; but without giving any
other reasons, than that he knew me to be a villain ;
and that I knew myself to be one ; nor would he
give me a character : so I was quite reduced ; and
but for the kindness of a sister, who keeps an inn
in Smithfield, I should have starved, or been ob
liged to do worse.
I should have told your honour, that the poor
farmer and his wife both died of grief in half a year.
An honest young man, who dearly loved the young
woman, was found drowned soon after : it is feared
he was his own executioner. Sir Christopher wefit
not on his embassy, His preparations for it, and his
expensive way of life,before and after, reduced him :
and he has been long a beggar, as 1 may say. The
poor young woman is now, if living, on the town. I
saw her about half a year ago in St. Martin's Round^
bouse, taken up as a common prostitute, and charged,
'3
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 255
with picking a pocket. She was a pretty creature,
and had a very pious turn, when I knew her first.
Her father had gone beyond himself in her educa
tion : and this was the fruit. What has such a man
as Sir Christopher to answer for! — But it is come
home to him. I rejoice that this wickedness was
not added to my score.
But heavy scenes I had enough afterwards. Being
utterly destitute, except what my sister did for me,
and not enduring to be a burden to her, I threw my
self upon my master Bagenhall. He employed me
in mean offices, till his pander died (he is a very
profligate man, Sir !) : and then he promoted me to
a still meaner.
In this way, I grew a shameless contriver. He in
troduced me to Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, and to Mr.
Merceda, a Portuguese Jew. In the service of these
three masters, good heaven forgive me ! what villa-
nies was I not the means of perpetrating ; Yet I ne
ver was so hardened, but I had temporary remorses.
But these three gentlemen would never let me rest
from wickedness : yet they kept me poor and neces
sitous ; as the only means to keep me what they
called honest ; for they had often reason to think,
that had I had any other means of subsistence, I
would have been really honest.
I was now Mr. Bagenhall's constant servant. Sir
Hargrave and Mr. Merceda used to borrow me ; but
I must say Sir Hargrave is an innocent man to the
other two. They caressed me, I speak it to my
shame, as a man nt for their turn. I had contrivance;
temper ; I knew something of every-body. But my
sister knows my frequent compunctions ; and that I
hated the vile course I was in. She used to lecture
me enough. She is a good woman.
Will your honour have patience with me a little
longer ?
z2
256 THE HISTORY Of
Sir Hargrave on the seventh of this month came
to my master Bagenhall at Reading, with whom he
had double business : one was to take a bond and
judgment of him (Sir Hargrave is no better than an
usurer) : Mr. Bagenhall has lived a most extravagant
life: the other was to borrow me. Mr. Merceda had
a scheme on foot at the same time, which he was.
earnest to engage me in ; but it was too shocking ;
and Mr. Bagenhall came into SirHargrave's.
Sir Hargrave told them, he designed nothing more
than a violation, if he could get my assistance, of the
most beautiful woman in the world. And, Sir, to
see the villany of the other two ; they both, unknown
to each other, made proposals to me, to trick Sir
Hargrave, and to get the lady, each for himself.
But to me, Sir Hargrave swore, that he was fully
resolved to leave this wicked course of life. Bagen
hall and Merceda, he said, were devils; and he would
marry, and have no more to say to them. All that
was in his view was honest marriage. He said he
had never been in the lady's company but once, and
that was the day before at Lady Betty Williams's.
He said he went thither, knowing she was to be
there : for having for some time had it in his head
to marry, this was the lady he had pitched upon in
his mind, from the character he had of her from
every mouth at the Northampton races.
Now, said he, I shall have some difficulty to ob
tain her, notwithstanding my fortune is so great ;
for every one who sees her is in love with her ; and
he named several gentlemen who laid close siege
to her.
She brought a servant up with her, said he, who
pines after the country, and is actually gone, or soon
will. Her cousin enquires of every one after a pro
per servant for her. You, Wilson, said he, are hand
some and genteel ; he was pleased to say so. You
5
SIR CHARLES QRANDISON. 257
have a modest humble look : you know all the duties
of a servant : get yourself entertained, and your for
tune is made for life, if by your means I obtain the
lady. I have already tendered myself, said he. Per
haps she will have me in a few days. I don't expect
to be denied, if she be disengaged, as it is said she
is. If you can get into her service, you will find out
every-thing. This is all that is to be done : but you
must never mention my name, nor ever know any
thing of me, as I go and come.
Sir Hargrave declared, that his heart was burnt up
with the love of the lady: and if he succeeded (as
he had little doubt, even without my help, had I been
actually in Merceda's service) you will, said he, as
my lady's servant, be mine of course ; you shall ne
ver wear a livery ; and you shall be my gentleman,
till I can get a place for you in the customs. This,
may it please your honour, he knew I had long
aimed at ; and it had been often promised by him
self, and my other two masters ; and was their first
promise when they wanted to engage me in any of
their schemes, though they never thought more of
it when the service was over. If I got but myself
engaged, I was, on the day I entered into my lady's
service, to have as an earnest ten guineas.
Encouraged by such promises (and the project
being an honester one than ever Sir Hargrave, or
either of the other two, had sought to engage me
in) I offered my service to my lady ; and, on Mr.
Bagenhall's writing a good character of me, was ac
cepted.
I could have been happy in the service of this
lady all the days of my life. She is all goodness :
all the servants, every-body, gentle and simple,
adored her: but she, unexpectedly, refusing to have
Sir Hargrave, and he being afraid that one of her
three or four lovers would cut him out, he resolved
z3
\
258 THE HISTORY OF .
to take more violent measures than he had at first
intended.
If any man was ever mad in love, it was Sir
Hargrave. But then he was as mad with anger to
be refused. Sir Hargrave was ever thought to be
one of the proudest men in England : and he com
plained that my lady used him worse than she did
any-body else. But it was not her way to use any
any-body ill, I saw that.
Nevertheless he was resolved to strike a bold stroke
for a -wife, as were his words from the title of a
play : and between us we settled the matter in one
night : for I had found means to get out unknown
to the family.
It will be trespassing too much upon your ho
nour's patience, to be very particular in our con
trivances. I will be as brief as possible.
My lady was to go to a masquerade. I got into
the knowledge of every-thing about it. The maids
were as full of the matter as their master and mis
tresses.
It was agreed to make the chairmen fuddled. Two
of Mr. Merceda 's footmen were to undertake the task.
Brandy was put into their liquor, to hasten them.
They were soon overcome. The weather was
cold : they drank briskly, and were laid up safe. I
then hired too chance chairmen, and gave them
orders, as had been contrived.
I had twenty guineas given me in hand, for my
encouragement ; in which were included the pro
mised ten.
I had, when I was my first master Bagenhall's
clerk, made acquaintance with several clerks of the
Custom-house, particularly with one Awberry, a so
ber modest man ; who has two sisters ; to one of
whom I am contracted, and always, for two years
past, intended to make my wife, as soon as I should
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 259
be in any way to maintain her. The mother is a
widow. All of them are very honest people.
Mr. Awberry the brother being assured by me
(and I was well assured of it myself, and had no
doubt about it) that marriage was intended ; and
knowing Sir Hargrave's great estate (and having
indeed seen Sir Hargrave on the occasion, and re
ceived his protestations of honour) engaged hig mo
ther and sisters in it; and the result, as to them and
me, was, that I was to receive, as soon as the knot
was tied, a hundred guineas besides the twenty ;
and moreover an absolute promise of a place ; and
twenty 'pounds a year till I got it ; and then my
marriage with young Mrs. Awberry was to follow.
The widow has an annuity of thirty pounds, which,
with her son's salary, keeps them above want.
She lives at Paddington. There is a back door and
garden, as it happens, convenient to bring any-body
in, or carry any-body out, secretly ; and hither it
was resolved, if possible, that the lady should be
brought, and a Fleet parson and his clerk ready sta
tioned, to perform the ceremony ; and then all that
the bridegroom wished was to follow of course.
Sir Hargrave doubted not (though he was fruitful
in contrivances, and put many others in practice)
but he should be detected if he carried the lady to
his own house. And as he was afraid that the chair
men (notwithstanding several other artful contriv
ances) would be able to find out the place they
carried her to, he had ordered his chariot-and-six to
be at the widow Awberry's by six in the morning,
with three servants on horseback, armed, and a
horse and pistols besides. After marriage and con
summation, he was resolved to go to his house on
the forest, but not to stay there ; but to go to Mr.
Merceda's house near Newbury, where he doubted
not but he should be secret till he thought fit to pro-
260 THE HISTORY OF
duce the lady as Lady Pollexfen : and often, verf
often, did he triumph on the victory he should
obtain over her other lovers, and over her own
proud heart, as he would have it to be.
The parson, Sir, came : the clerk was there : but
what with fits, prayers, tears, and one thing or other
(at one time the lady being thought irrecoverable,
having received some unintended hurt in her strug
gling to get out of a door, as I heard it was) Sir
Hargrave in terror dismissed the parson ; and re
solved to carry the lady (who by that time was re
covered) in the chariot to his seat at Windsor ; and
then, staying there only to marry, go to New-
bury ; and from thence break out by degrees, as the
matter should be taken.
My lady screamed, resisted, and did all that
woman could do, to get free : and more than once,
people who heard her cry out for help were put on a
wrong scent : and had we not met with your honour
(who would see with your own eyes, and hear with
your own ears) the affair had been all over in the
way Sir Hargrave wished, and was at so much
pains and expence to effect. For, Sir, the chariot
generally drove so fast, that before passengers could
have resolved whether to interfere or not, we should
have been out of sight or reach.
Sir Hargrave is in the greatest rage with us all,
because we stood not better by him. He refuses
any favour to me, and threatens to pistol me the
moment he sees me. That's to be my reward.
We were four at setting out from Paddington: but
one of the servants was dispatched to prepossess an
old servant of Sir Hargrave's mother, at Colne-
brook, who keeps there a kind of haberdashery
shop ; and where he proposed to get some refresh
ment for the lady, if he could make her take any.
For my part, I wonder how she kept out of fits 01*
the road. She had enow of them at Paddingtoc*
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOM. 261
The two servants who staid about Sir Hargrave,
are discharged with all the marks of indignation
that a master incensed by such a disappointment
could express ; and, as I said before, he is resolved
to pistol me the moment he sees me. Yet I too
well served him for the peace of my conscience.
A coach-and-four was ordered to carry the widow
and her two daughters to Reading, to the New Inn
there, where they were to reside for a week or so,
till all was blown over ; and that they might be out
of the way of answering questions : and my brother
Awberry, as I call him, and hope to make him (for
he is a very honest man) was to go to them there.
And there, in all probability, had Sir Hargrave
succeeded, and been as good as his word, should
I have been the husband of as tender-hearted a
young woman as any in the parish she lives in.
Here is a very long letter, may it please you, Sir.
I have shortened it, however, as much as I could :
but in hatred to myslf, and the vile ways I have,
by excess of good-nature, and by meeting with
wicked masters, been drawn into — For the clearing
of my sister's character, who lives in credit among
her neighbours, and of every other person who
might otherwise have been suspected — In justice to
Mrs. Awberry 's and her two daughters, and her son's
characters — And in justice so far to Sir Hargrave's,
as that he intended marriage (and had he not, he
would have found no friends in his designs at Pad-
dington) and so far as to clear him of having not
offered the least incivility to my lady — [Had he
intended, or been provoked so to do, he was too
well watched by the widow, and her daughters, to
have been permitted ; and that by my own request,
which was, that they should be ready to run in
whenever they heard her cry out, and that they
would not leave Sir Hargrave alone with my lady
262 THE HISTORY OF
for six minutes, till their hands were joined in wed
lock] — In justice I say to all these persons, I
thought proper thus to give you, Sir, all that I knew
relating to this wicked transaction. And if, may it
please your honour, I were to be taken up, I could
say no more before a magistrate; except this, which
I had like to have forgot ; which is, that had it not
been for me, some mischief might have been done,
between Sir Hargrave's servants and yours, if not
to your honour's person.
All that I most humbly beg, is the pardon of so
sweet a lady. I have chosen, ever-to-be-honoured
Sir, to write to you, whose goodness is so generally
talked of, and who have so nobly redeemed and
protected her. Mr. Reeves, I know, has suffered
too much in his mind to forgive me. He is a worthy
gentleman. I am sorry for the disturbance I have
given him. I have hopes given me, that I shall get
employment on the keys, or as a tide-waiter extra
ordinary.
Please the Lord, I will never, never more, be the
tool of wicked masters. All I wish for is, to be
able to do justice to the love of an honest young
woman; and I am resolved, whether so enabled
or not, to starve, rather than to go any more, no,
not for a single hour, into the service of the ini
quitous gentlemen I have so often named in this
long letter.
If 1 might be assured, that I may pursue unmo
lested any honest calling, so as that I may not be
tempted or driven into unhappy courses, my heart
would be at rest.
There might have been murder in this affair : that
shocks me to think of. O Sir, good, excellent,
brave, and the most worthy of gentlemen, you have
given to me as great a deliverance, as you have to
the lady: yea, greater; for mine may be a deliver-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 26$
ance, if I make a proper use of it, of soul as well
as body. Which God grant, as also your honour's
health and prosperity, to the prayers of
Your honour's ever- devoted
Humble servant,
WILLIAM WILSON.
I thought I had something else to say : something
it is of high importance: your life is threatened,
Sir: God preserve your precious life. Amen!
LETTER XXXVI.
MISS BYRON TO MISS 8ELBY.
Friday, February 24.
MY cousin Reeves has given assurance to the sister
of that Wilson, that he may, unmolested by any of
us, pursue the best means he can fall upon for the
obtaining of an honest livelihood.
In every-thing it is determined to follow the ad
vice of my deliverer.
What a letter is that fellow's ! What men are
there in the world !
Of such we have read : but I hoped, that I might
have escaped suffering by any such.
We are extremely disturbed at the fellow's post
script: and the more, as we are told by several peo
ple, that Sir Hargrave will not sit down quietly ; but
threatens vengeance upon Sir Charles. I wish I had
not come to London.
I hope rny grandmamma's spirits are not affected
by what she knows of the matter. It was very good
of my aunt Selby to take the measures she did, in
softening every circumstance, and -not to let her
264« THE HISTORY OF
know any-thing till the danger was over. But in
deed it was but the natural effect of that prudence
which regulates all the actions of my honoured aunt.
My grandmamma has such strength of mind, that
now she knows I am safe, and not unhappy, I dare
say she will by degrees bear to hear my narrations
read. She will be more uneasy if she thinks any
thing is kept from her.
Yet I know that her tenderness and her love for
her Harriet will cost her some anguish, some sighs,
some tears, as she reads, or hears read, the cruelty
her girl has been treated with : who, so tenderly
brought up, so greatly indulged, never before knew
what harshness was. But then she will have more
joy, I hope, in my deliverance, than she will have
pain in my sufferings. And pray let her know, that
I am every day less and less sensible of the pain in
my stomach, of which I was so apprehensive, as
really, at the time, to think it a mortal blow. My
grandmamma has told us girls, you know, my Lucy,
twenty and twenty frightful stories of the vile en-
terprizes of men, against innocent creatures; and
will therefore call to mind stories which have con
cluded much worse than, blessed be God, mine
has done.
* * *
Just now I have received a congratulatory
pacquet of letters :
One from my aunt Selby, such a sweetly kind,
such a truly maternal letter !
One from my dearest grandmamma. I will put it
next my heart, whenever I feel there any of that
pain, of which she is so kindly apprehensive.
One from Nancy — Dear girl ! — She is very gene
rous to forget her own malady to condole and con
gratulate me. Your brother James, my Lucy, has
written me a very kind letter. He is a good young
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 265
man: God keep him so! What a mischievous crea
ture is a bad man !
I have a charming letter, by the post, from my
godfather Deane: he has heard nothing of what
has happened ; and I am sure is too solicitous for
my welfare, to take it well, if I do not let him
know something about it: I will therefore soon
write to him.
But your letter, my Lucy ! — What, I warrant,
you thought I had forgot your letter in the enume
ration of the contents of the precious pacquet ! If
I ha'd, your goodness, your love, might have made
you forgive me : but I never would have forgiven
myself.
But you and I, my dear, write for all to see
what we write : and so I reserved yours to be last-
mentioned. Only I slid in my godfather Deane's
between ; not because I love him better than I do
my Lucy — No, that is impossible ! — But because I
had a mind to shew you, that I was hastening to be
quite well, and so assumed my little saucy tricks,
and surprises, as if it were possible for me to be
heedless, where my love to my Lucy was in the
question.
And so you expect the particular character and
description of the persons of this more than amiable
brother and sister. Need you to have told me that
you do ? And could you think that after having
wasted so many quires of paper in giving you the
characters of people, many of whom deserved not
to be drawn out from the common crowd of mor
tals, I would forbear to give you those of persons
who adorn the age in which they live, and even
human nature ?
You don't question, you say, if I begin in their
praises, but my gratitude will make me write in a
sublime style ; so you phrase it; and are ready, you
A A
266 THE HISTORY OF
promise me, to take with allowance, all the fine
things from me, which Mr. Reeves has already
taught you to expect.
You may be right in your expectations, as far a*
I know ; for my grandfather (so many years ago)
used to say, that his little Byron was an enthusiast
in her gratitude. But, however, when I say any
thing of the exalted minds, of the expanded hearts,
of the amiable manners, of this happy brother and
sister, which seems to exceed, in my praises, the
bounds you will all be willing to set me, then let
the overflowings be carried to account of the
grateful enthusiasm, and only to that.
Which shall I begin with ? You will have a sharp
look-out upon me, you say : Ah, my Lucy ! I know
what you mean. But I am safe from every-thing
but my gratitude, I will assure you.
And so, if I begin with the character of the bro
ther, then will you join with my uncle, shake your
head, and cry, Ah! my Harriet i If I begin with the
sister, will you not say, that I save my choicest sub
ject for the last? How difficult is it to avoid censure,
when there is a resolution taken to be censorious.
Well, but keep aloo/c-out, if you please, my Lucy:
not the least shadow of reserve shall it give to my
heart : my pen shall be honest to that heart ; and I
shall be benefited, I am sure, by the faithful wounds
of such affectionate, and equally-beloved as revered
friends — And so, pen, take thy course.
Miss Grandison — Yes, my volant, my self-con
ducted quill, begin with the sister, say my Lucy
what she pleases —
Miss Grandison is about twenty-four ; of a fine
stature: she has dignity in her aspect; and a very
penetrating black eye, with which she does what she
pleases: her hair is black, very fine, and naturally
curls : she is not fair; but her complexion is delicate
SIR CHARLES 6RANDISOX. 267
and clear, and promises along duration to her love
liness : her features are generally regular : her nose
is a little aquiline ; but that is so far from being a
blemish, that it gives a kind of majesty to her other
features : her teeth are white and even : her mouth
is perfectly lovely, and a modest archness appears in
her smiles, that makes one both love and fear her^
when she begins to speak. She is finely shaped ;
and, in her air and whole appearance, perfectly gen
teel.
She herself says, that before her brother came to
England, she was thought to be proud, pert, and
lofty : but 1 hardly believe her ; for the man lives
not, it is ray belief, who in fourteen months time
(and Sir Charles has not been longer arrived) eould
so totally eradicate those qualities in a mind of which
they had taken possession, as that they should not
occasionally shew themselves.
She has charming spirits. I dare say she sings
Veil, from the airs she now-and-then warbles in
the gaiety of her heart, as she goes up and down
stairs ; she is very polite ; yet has a vein of raillery,
that, were she not polite, would give one too much
apprehension for one's ease : but I am sure she is
frank, easy, and good humoured : and, by turning
over all the just and handsome things which are
attributed to herself, to her brother's credit, she
must be equally humble and generous.
She says, she has but lately taken a very great
liking to reading : but I am ready to question what
she says, when she speaks any-thing that some would
construe to her disadvantage. She pretend*, that
she was too volatile, too gay, too airy, to be confin
ed to sedentary amusements. Her father, however,
according to the genteelest and most laudable mo
dern education for women, had given her a master,
who taught her history and geography; in both-
A A 2
268 THE HISTORY OF
which she acknowledges she made some progress. In
music, she owns she has skill; but I am told by her
maid who attended me by her young lady's direc
tion, and who delights to praise her mistress, that
she reads and speaks French and Italian : that she
writes finely ; and is greatly admired for her wit,
prudence, and obligingness. Nobody, said Jenny
(who is a sensible young woman, a clergyman s
daughter, well educated, and very obliging) can
stand against her good-natured raillery : her brother,
she says, is not spared : but he takes delight in her
vivacity, and gives way to it ; when it is easy to see,
that he could take her down, if he pleased. And
then, added this good young woman, she is an ex
cellent manager in a family, finely as she is educated
[I rejoiced to hear that, for the honour of our
reading ladies, as in Miss Clement's case] : she
knows every-thing, and how to direct what should
be done, from the private family-dinner, to a sump
tuous entertainment : and every day inspects, and
approves, or alters, the bill of fare : by the way, my
Lucy, she is an early riser — Do you mind that? And
so can do every-thing with ease, pleasure, and with
out hurry and confusion: for all her servants are
early risers of course. What servants can for shame
be in bed, at a reasonable hour to be up, when they
have a master or mistress's example for early rising ?
Yet this fine lady loves to go to the public places,
and often goes, and makes a brilliant figure there.
She has time for them, and earns her pleasures by
her early rising.
Miss Grandison, Jenny tells me, has two humble
servants [I wonder she has not two-and-twenty] :
one is Sir Walter Watkyns, a man of a large estate
in Somersetshire ; the other is Lord G. son of the
Earl of G. ; but neither of them highly approved by
her : yet Jenny says, they are both of them hand-
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOV.
gome men, and admired by the ladies : this makes
me afraid that they are modern men ; and pay their
court by the exterior appearance, rather than by
interior worth. Who, my Lucy, that has heard what
my late grandfather has said, and my grandmamma
still says, of the men in their youthful days, will not
say, that we have our lots cast in an age of petits
maitres, and insignifi cants ?
Such an amiable woman is Miss Charlotte Gran-
dison — May I be found, on further acquaintance,
but half as amiable in her eyes, as she is in mine J —
Don't be jealous, Lucy ! I hope I have a large heart.
I hope there is room in it for half a dozen sweet
female friends 1 — Yes, although another love were
to intervene. I could not bear, that even the affec
tion due to the man of my choice, were I to marry,
should, like Aaron's rod, swallow up all the rest. '/.•
But now for her brother — my deliverer ! —
But pray now, Lucy, dont't you come with your
sharp look-out : I warrant you will expect on this
occasion to read the tumults of the poor girl's heart
in her character and description of a man, to whom
she is so much obliged! — But what if she disappoint
you, and yet do justice to his manifold excellencies?
What, if she find some faults in him, that his sister
has not ?
Parading Harriet, methinks you say ! Teazing
girl ! Go on, go on ; leave it to us to find you out :
and take care that the very faults you pretend to
discover, do not pass for a colour only, and lead to
your detection.
Thank you, Lucy, for your caution : but I will
not be obliged to it. My pen shall follow the dic
tates of my heart; and if it be as honest to me, as I
think it is to every-body else, I hope I have nothing
to fear either from your look-out, or, which is still a
sharper, my uncle Selby's.
A A 3
270 THE HISTORY Of
Sir Charles Grandison, in his person, is really a
very fine man. He is tall; rather slender than full ;
his face in shape is a fine oval : he seems to have
florid health ; health confirmed by exercise.
His complexion seems to have been naturally too
fine for a man : but as if he were above being re
gardful of it, his face is overspread with a manly
sunniness [I want a word] that shews he has been
in warmer climates than England : and so it seems
he has ; since the tour of Europe has not contented
him. He has visited some parts of Asia, and even
of Africa, Egypt particularly.
I wonder what business a man has for such fine
teeth, and so fine a mouth, as Sir Charles Grandison
might boast of, were he vain.
In his aspect there is something great and noble,
that shews him to be of rank, Were kings to be
chosen for beauty and majesty of person, Sir Charles
Grandison would have few competitors. His eye —
Indeed, my Lucy, his eye shews, if possible, more
of sparkling intelligence than that of his sister —
Now pray be quiet, my dear uncle Selby ! What
is beauty in a man to me ? You all know, that I
never thought beauty a qualification in a man.
And yet, this grandeur in his person and air is
accompanied with so much ease and freedom of
manners, as engages our love with our reverence.
His good breeding renders him very accessible.
His sister says, he is always the first to break
through the restraints, and to banish the diffidences,
that will generally attend persons on a quite new
acquaintance. He may ; for he is sure of being
acceptable in whatever he does or says,
Very true, Lucy : shake your head if you please.
In a word, he has such an easy, yet manly polite
ness, as well in his dress, as in his address (no singu
larity appearing in either) that were he not a fine
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 271
figure of a man, but were even plain and hard-
featured, he would be thought (what is far more
eligible in a man, than mere beauty) very agree
able.
Sir Charles Grandison, my dear, has travelled, we
may say, to some purpose
Well might his sister tell Mr, Reeves, that when
ever he married, he would break half a score hearts.
Upon my word, Lucy, he has too many personal
advantages for a woman, who loved him with peculi
arity ', to be easy with, whatever may be his virtue,
from the foible our sex in general love to indulge
for handsome men. For, O my dear, women's eyes
are sad giddy things ; and will run away with their
sense, with their understandings, beyond the power
of being overtaken either by stop thief, orhue-and-
cry.
I know that here you will bid me take care not to
increase the number of the giddy : and so I will,
my Lucy.
The good sense of this real fine gentleman is not
as lean find, rusted over by sourness, by moroseness;
he is above quarrelling with the world for trifles :
but he is still more above making such compliances
with it, as would impeach either his honour or con
science. Once Miss Grandison, speaking of her
brother, said, My brother is valued by those who
know him best, not so much for being a handsome
man ; not so much for his birth and fortune ; nor
for this or that single worthiness ; as for being, in
the great and yet comprehensive sense of the word,
a good man. And at another time she said, that he
lived to himself, and to his own heart ; and that,
though he had the happiness to please every-body,
yet he made the judgment or approbation of the
world matter but of second consideration. In a
word, added she, Sir Charles Grandison, my brother
272 THE HISTORY OF
(and when she looks proud, it is when she says, m\,
brother} is not to be misled either by false glory, or
false shame, which he calls, The great snares of
virtue.
What a man is this, so to act ! — What a woman is
this, so to distinguish her brother's excellencies !
What a poor creature am I, compared to either of
them ! And yet I have had my admirers. So per
haps may still more faulty creatures among their
inferiors. If, my Lucy, we have so much good sense
as to make fair comparisons, what have we to do but
to look up, rather than downward, in order to ob
tain the grace of humility.
But let me tell you, my dear, that Sir Charles does
not look to be so great a self-denier, as his sister
seems to think him, when she says, he lives to him
self, and to his own heart, rather than to the opi
nion of the world.
He dresses to the fashion, rather richly, 'tis true,
than gaudily ; but still richly : so that he gives his
fine person its full consideration He has a great
deal of vivacity in his whole aspect ; as well as in his
eye. Mrs. Jenny says, that he is a great admirer
of handsome women. His equipage is perfectly in
taste, though not so much to the glare of taste, as if
he aimed either to inspire or shew emulation. He
seldom travels without a set, and suitable attend
ants ; and, what I think seems a little to savour of
singularity, his horses are not docked : their tails
are only tied up when they are on the road This
I took notice of when we came to town. I want,
methinks, my dear, to find some fault in his out
ward appearance, were it but to make you think
me impartial ; my gratitude to him, and my vene
ration for him, notwithstanding.
But if he be of opinion that the tails of these no
ble animals are not only a natural oniaraent, but are
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 273
of real use to defend them from the vexatious in
sects that in summer are so apt to annoy them (as
Jenny once told me was thought to be his reason for
not depriving his cattle of a defence, which nature
gave them) how far from a dispraise is this humane
consideration! And how, in the more minute as
well as we may suppose in the greater instances,
does he deserve the character of the man of mercy,
who will be merciful to his beast !
I have met with persons, who call those men
good, that yet allow themselves in liberties which
no good man can take. But I dare say, that Miss
Grandison means by good, when she calls her brother,
with so much pride, a good man, what I, and what
you, my Lucy, would understand by the word.
With so much spirit, life, and gallantry, in the
first appearance of Sir Charles Grandison, you may
suppose, that had I not been so dreadfully terrified
and ill-used, and so justly apprehensive of worse
treatment ; and had I been offered another protec-
tion; I should hardly have acted the frighted bird
flying from the hawk, to which, as Mr. Reeves tells
me, Sir Charles (though politely, and kindly enough,
yet too sensibly for my recollection) compared me.
Do you wonder, Lucy, that I cannot hold up my
head, when I recollect the figure I must make in
that odious masquerade-habit, hanging by my clasp
ing arms about the neck of such a young gentleman?
Can I be more effectually humbled than by such a
recollection ? And yet is not this an instance of
that false shame in me, to which Sir Charles Gran
dison is so greatly superior ?
Surely, surely, I have had my punishment for my
compliances with this foolish world. False glory,
and false shame, the poor Harriet has never been
totally above. Why was I so much indulged ? Why
was I allowed to stop so many miles short of my
THE HISTORY OF
journey's end, and then complimented, as if I had
no farther to go ? — But surely, I was past all shame,
when I gave my consent to make such an appear
ance as I made, among a thousand strangers, at a
masquerade !
But now, I think, something offers of blame in the
character of this almost faultless man, as his sister,
and her Jenny, represent him to be.
I cannot think, from a hint given by Miss Gran-
dison, that he is quire so frank, and so unreserved,
as his sister is. Nay, it was more than a hint : I
will repeat her very words ; she had been mention
ing her own openness of heart, and yet confessing
that she would have kept one' or two things from
him, that affected him not. ' But as for my brother,
said she, he winds one about, and about, yet seems
not to have more curiosity than one would wish him
to have. Led on by his smiling benignity, and fond
of his attention to my prattle, I have caught myself
in the midst of a tale of which I intended not to
tell him one syllable.
* O Sir Charles ! where am I got ? have I said ;
and suddenly stopt.
* Proceed, my Charlotte ! No reserves to your
nearest friend.
4 Yet he has his, and I have winded and winded
about him, as he had done about me ; but all to no
purpose.
1 Nevertheless, he has found means, insensibly, to
set me on again with my own story, till I had told
him all I knew of the matter ; and all the time I was
intending only that my frankness should be an ex
ample to him ; when he, instead of answering my
wishes, double-locked the door of his heart, and left
not so much as the key-hole uncovered by which I
might have peeped into it ; and this in one or two
points, that I thought it imported me to know. And
then have I been ready to scold.'
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 275
Now this reserve to such a sister, and in points
that she thinks it imports her to know, is what I do
not like in Sir Charles. A friend as well as a sister!
ought there to be a secret on one side, when there
is none on the other ? Very likely, he would be as
reserved to a wife : and is not marriage the highest
state of friendship that mortals can know ? And
can friendship and reserve be compatible ? Surely,
No.
His sister, who cannot think he has one fault, ex
cuses him, and says, that her brother has no other
view in drawing her on to reveal her own heart, but
the better to know how to serve and oblige her.
But then, might not the same thing be said in
behalf of the curiosity of so generous a sister ? Or,
is Sir Charles so conscious of his own superiority,
as to think he can give advice to her, but wants not
hers to him ? Or, thinks he meanly of our sex, and
highly of his own ? Yet there are but two years dif
ference in their age : and from sixteen to twenty-
four, I believe, women are generally more than two
years aforehand with the men in ripeness of under
standing; though, after that time, the men may
ripen into a superiority.
This observation is not my own ; for I heard a
very wise man once say, That the intellects of wo
men usually ripen sooner than those of men ; but
that those of men, when ripened, like trees of slow
growth, generally hold longer, are capable of higher
perfection, and serve to nobler purposes.
Sir Charles has seen more of the world, it may be
said, than his sister has : he has travelled. But is
not human nature the same in every country, al
lowing only for different customs ? — Do not love,
hatred, anger, malice, all the passions in short, good
or bad, shew themselves by like effects in the faces,
hearts, and actions of the people of every country?
276 THE HISTORY OF
And let men make ever such strong pretensions to
knowledge, from their far-fetched and dear-bought
experience, cannot a penetrating spirit learn as much
from the passions of a Sir Hargrave Pollexfen in
England, as it could from a man of the same or the
like ill qualities, in Spain, in France, or in Italy ?
And why is the Grecian Homer, to this day, so
much admired, as he is in all these nations, and in
every other nation where he has been read, and will
be, to the world's end, but because he writes
from nature ? And is not the language of nature
one language throughout the world, though there
are different modes of speech to express it by ?
But I shall go out of my depth. All I mean (and,
from the frankness of my own heart, you will expect
from me such a declaration) is, that I do not love that
a man so nearly perfect, be his motives what they
will, should have reserves to such a sister. Don't
you think, Lucy, that this seems to be a kind of
fault in Sir Charles Grandison ? Don't you think,
that it would mingle some fear in a sister's love of
him? And should one's love of so amiable a brother
be dashed or allayed with/ear ? He is said to be a
good man : and a good man I dare say he is : What
secrets can a good man have, that such a sister,
living with him in the same house, and disdaining
not, but, on the contrary, priding herself in, the
title of her brother's housekeeper, should not be made
acquainted with ? Will a man so generous look upon
her as he would upon a mere housekeeper ? — Does
not confidence engage confidence ? — And are they
not by nature, as well as inclination, friends ?
But I fancy I am acting the world, in its male
volence, as well as impertinence : that world, which
thinks itself affronted by great and superior merit ;
and takes delight to bring down exalted worth to
its own level. But, at least, you will collect from
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOJT. 277
what I have written, an instance of my impartiality;
and see, that, though bound to Sir Charles by a tie
of gratitude which never can be dissolved, I cannot
excuse him, if he be guilty of distance and reserve
to his generous sister, which she is above shewing
to him.
If I am allowed to be so happy, as to cultivate
this desirable acquaintance [and I hope it is not
their way to leave those whom they have relieved
and raised, in order to shine upon, and bless, only
new objects of compassion] then will I closely watch
every step of this excellent man ; in hope, however,
to find him as perfect as report declares him, that I
may fearlessly make him my theme, as I shall de
light to make his sister my example. And if I were
to find any considerable faults in him, never fear, my
dear, but my gratitude will enlarge my charity in
his favour. But I shall, at the same time, arm my
heart with those remembered failings, lest my gra
titude should endanger it, and make me a hopeless
fool.
Now, my uncle, do not be very hard on your
niece. I am sure, very sure, that I am not in dan
ger as yet : and indeed I will tell you, by my Lucy,
whenever I find out that I am. Spare, therefore,
my dear uncle Selby, all your conjectural construc
tions.
And indeed you should in pity spare me, my dear
Sir, at present ; for my spirits are still weak : I have
not yet forgiven myself for the masquerade affair ;
especially since Mr. Reeves has hinted to me, that
Sir Charles Grandison (as he judges from what he
dropt about that foolish amusement) approves not
of masquerades. And yet self-partiality has sug
gested several strong pleas in my favour ; indeed by
way of extenuation only. How my judge, CON
SCIENCE, will determine upon those pleas, when
B B
278 THE HISTORY OF
counsel has been heard on both sides, I cannot say
yet I think, that an acquittal from this brother and
sister would go a great way to make my conscience
easy.
I have not said one half of what I intended to say
of this extraordinary man. But having imagined,
from the equal love I have to his admirable sister,
that I had found something to blame him for, my
impartiality has carried me out of my path ; and I
know not how to recover it, without going a great
way back. Let therefore what I have further to say,
mingle in with my future narratives, as new occa
sions call it forth.
But yet I will not suffer any other subject to in
terfere with that which fills my heart with the praises,
the due praises, of this worthy brother and sister ;
to which I intended to consecrate this rambling and
very imperfect letter : and which here I will con
clude, with assurances (however needless I hope
they are) of duty, love, and gratitude, where so much
due from your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER XXXVII.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
February 24, and 25.
Now have I near a week to go back, my Lucy, with
my current narrative, having been thrown behind
hand by the long letters I have been obliged to
write, to give you an account of my distress, of my
deliverance, of the characters of this noble brother
and sister, and a multitude of coincidences and re
flections, which all my dear friends expect, as they
fall in, from the pen of their Harriet. And this let-
Sill CHARLES GRANDISON. 279
ter shall therefore be a kind of diary of that week ;
only that I will not repeat what my cousin Reeves
has told me he has written.
On Monday I was conducted home in safety, by
my kind protector, and his amiable sister.
Mrs. Reeves, Lady Betty, and Miss Clements,
are in love with them both.
My cousin has told you, how much they disap
pointed us, in declining to stay dinner. Wnat shall
we do, if they are not as fond of our company as we
are of theirs ? We are not used to be slighted, you
know : and to be slighted by those we love, there can
be no bearing of that : but I hope this will not be the
case.
At tea, the name of Sir Rowland Meredith car
ried me instantly down.
Mr. Reeves had told the good knight, on his
calling on the Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and on
this day, before we returned from Colnebrook, that
I had been over-fatigued at the masquerade on
Thursday night [and so I tods'] ; and was gone a lit
tle way out of town. Carriedhe should have said :
I was carried, with a witness !
Sir Rowland took notice, that I must have had a
smart illness for the time, by my altered countenance.
You are, and must be, ever lovely, Miss Byron : but
I think you look not quite so serene, you don't look
so composed) as you used to do. But I was afraid
you were denied to my longing sight. I was afraid
you would let your papa go down to Caermarthen,
without giving him an opportunity to bless his cross
girl. It is in vain, I fear, to urge you — He stopt,
and looked full in my face—Pray, Sir Rowland, said
I, how does my brother Fowler ?
Why, ay, that's the deuce of it ! Your brother
Fowler. But as the honest man says, so say I ; J
B B 2
280 THE HISTORY OF
will not teaze you. But never, never, will you have
— But no more of that — I come to take my leave of
you. I should have set out this very morning, could
I have seen you on Saturday, or yesterday : but I
shall go to-morrow morning early. You are glad of
that, madam, I am sure.
Indeed, Sir Rowland, I shall always respect and va
lue you : and I hope I shall have your good wishes, Sir-
Yes, yes, madam, you need not doubt it. And
I will humble all the proud women in Wales, by
telling them of Miss Byron.
You tell me, my Lucy, that you were all moved
at one of the conversations I gave you between the
knight, Mr. Fowler, and myself.
Were I to be as particular in my account of what
passed on Sir Rowland's taking leave of me, as I was
on that other occasion, and were you to judge by the
effect his honest tenderness had on me, as I craved his
blessing, and as he blessed me (the big tears, unheed
ed by himself, straying down his reverend cheeks)
I think you would have been in like manner affected.
Mr. Fowler is to go down after him — If — if — if,
said the knight, looking fervently in my face —
I should be glad, I said, to see, and to wish my
brother a good journey.
Tuesday morning early I had a kind enquiry after
my rest, from MissGrandison, in her brother's name,
as well as in her own. And about eleven o'clock
came the dear lady herself. She would run up stairs
to me, following Sally — In her dressing-room, say
you ? — She shall not come down.
She entered with the maid — Writing,my dear! said
she. I one day hope, my Harriet, you will shew me
all you write — There, there (sitting down by me)
no bustle. And how does my fair friend ? — Well — I
see very well — To a lover — or o/a lover — that's the
same thing.—
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON". 281
Thus, sweetly familiar, ran she on.
Mrs. Reeves entered : Excuse me, madam, said
Miss Grandison ; this is but one of my flying visits,
as I call them : my next shall be to you. But per
haps I may not make it in form neither : we are
relations, you know. How does Mr. Reeves ? He is
a good man. At home ? —
He is, madam, and will be rejoiced —
I know he will — Why, madam, this our Byron,
our Harriet, 1 should say, looks charmingly ! — You
had best lock her up. There are many more Sir
Hargraves in the world, than there are Miss Byrons.
She told me, that Sir Charles had set out that
morning early for Canterbury. He will be absent
two or three days, said she. He charged me with
his compliments. He did nothing but talk of his
new-found sister, from the time he parted with you.
I shall promote your interest with him, in order to
strengthen my own. I want to find him out.
Some love-engagements, I suppose, madam ? said
Mrs. Reeves — It is impossible but the ladies —
The ladies! Ay, that's the thing ! The deuce is in
them ! They will not stay to be asked. These men,
the best of them, love nothing but what is attended
with difficulty. But all his love-matters he keeps to
himself; yet knows all mine — except one little entan
glement — Mr. Reeves hears not what we say (looking
about her) : but you, my dear, shall reveal to me your
sneaking passion, if you have one, and J will discover
mine — But not to you, Mrs. Reeves. No married
women shall I trust with what lies in the innermost
fold of my heart. Your husbands are always the
wiser for what you know ; though they can keep their
own counsel : and then, Harriet, Satan-like, the un
generous wretches, becoming both tempters and
accusers, laugh at us, and make it wonderful for a
woman to keep a secret. .
BBS
282 THE HISTORY OF
The ladies will not stay to be asked, Lucy !— An
odd hint! — These men, the best of them, love nothing
but what comes to them with difficulty : — he keeps all his
love-matters to himself. — ALL ! my Lucy ! — But in
deed she had said before, that if Sir Charles married,
half a dozen hearts would be broken !
This is nothing to me, indeed. But, once more, I
wonder why a man of a turn so laudable, should have
any secrets ? The more a good man permits any one
to know of his heart, the more good he might do,
by way of example. — And has he, can he have, so
many love-secrets, and yet will he not let them tran
spire to such a sister ? — Whom (and so she once
hinted) it imported to know something of them.
But, he knows best. I am very impertinent to be
more concerned for his sister, than she is for herself.
But I do love her. And one can no more bear to
have those slighted whom we love, than one's self.
It is very difficult, Lucy, to know one's self. I
am afraid I have a little spice of censoriousness in
my temper, which I knew nothing of till now : but,
no, it is not censoriousness neither. I cannot be so
mean, as to be censorious : and yet I can now, me-
thinks (for the first time) a little account for those
dark spirits who may be too much obliged ; and who,
despairing to be able ever to return the obligation,
are ready to quarrel with the obliger.
Spiteful men say, that we women know not our
selves; know not our own hearts. I believe there is
something of truth in the aspersion : but as men and
women are brothers and sisters, as I may say, are not
the men equally censurable? And should not we wo
men say so, were we to be as spiteful as they? Must
it needs be, that a daughter of the same father and
mother must be more silly, more unsteady, more ab
surd, more impertinent, than her brother? I hope not.
Mrs. Reeves, not knowing, as she said afterwards,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 283
but Miss Grandison might have something to say to
me, withdrew.
I believe I told you last Sunday, said Miss Gran
dison, of a cousin that we have : a good-natured
young fellow : he supped with us last night. Sir
Charles was so full of your praises, yet not letting
him into your history, that he is half-wild to see you.
God forbid, thought I, when she had gone only
thus far, that this cousin should be proposed! — What
an easy thing is it, my Lucy, to alarm a woman on
the side of her vanity!
He breakfasted with me this morning, continued
she, after Sir Charles had set out ; and knowing that
I intended to make you a flying visit, he besought me
to take him with me : but I would not, my dear,
bring an inundation of new admirers upon you : he
has a great acquaintance ; and is very bold, though
not indecent : he is thought to be a modern wit, you
must know ; and, to speak after an admirable writer,
a minute philosopher; and thinks he has something to
say for himself when his cousin is not present. Be
fore Sir Charles arrived, and when we were in ex
pectation of his coming, being apprised that Sir
Charles had a serious turn, he threatened to play
upon him, and, as he phrased it, to bamboozle him ;
for these wits and witlings have a language peculiar
to themselves. But ontSir Charles's arrival, in two
conversations, he drew in his horns, as we say ; and
now reverences those good qualities which he has
not, however, the grace to imitate. Now I will not
answer, but you may have a visit from him to see the
loveliest woman in England. If he comes, see him,
or not, as you please ; and think not yourself under
any civil obligation to my brother, or me, to go out
of your own way : but I hope he will not be so im
pertinent. I don't wish you to see him out of my
brother's company ; because you will see him then
to his own advantage. And yet he has such a no-
<?84< THE HISTORY OF
tion that we women love to be admired, and to have
handsome things said to us, that he imagines, the
visit of a man, made for that purpose, will give him
as free a welcome to the finest woman in the world,
as painters give to those who come to see their pic
tures, and for the like reason. But no more of Mr.
Grandison. Yet I thought proper to prepare you,
if he should take so confident a liberty.
I thanked her.
Well but, my dear, you seem to have a long parcel
of writing before you ; one, two, three, four — Eight
leaves— Upon my word ! — But Mr. Reeves told me
you are a writer ; and that you gave an account of
all that befel you, to our grandmother Shirley, to our
uncle and aunt Selby, to our cousins Lucy and Nancy
— You see I remember every name : and will you
one day let me see what you write ?
Most willingly, madam —
Madam ! interrupted she. So formal ! Charlotte say.
With all my heart, my ever-amiable, my ever -kind,
Charlotte.
So, so — Well may the men say we love flattery,
when rather than want it, we will flatter one another.
I was going to disclaim flattery: Hush, hush, hush,
tny dear ! I doubt not your sincerity. You are a
grateful and good girl : but dare you, will you, shew
me all and every-thing about that Greville, that
Orme, that Fowler, that Fenwick ? — You see, I for
get none of the names that your cousin Reeves told
me of on Saturday last, and which I made you talk
of last Sunday.
All and every-thing, Miss Grandison : But will
you tell me of your gentleman?
Will I ! No doubt of it : How can young women
be together one quarter of an hour, and not lead one
another into talk of their lovers ? Lord, my dear,
those secrets, Sir Charles once said, are the cement
of young women's friendships.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 285
And could Sir Charles —
Could Sir Charles ! — Yes, yes, yes. Do you think
a man can be a judge of human nature, and leave
women out of the question? Why, my dear, he finds
us out in a minute. Take care of yourself, Harriet
-If—
I shall be afraid of him —
What if you have a good conscience, my dear I—
She then looked very archly. She made me blush.
She looked more archly. I blushed, I believe, a
deeper dye.
Did I not tell you, Lucy, that she could do what
she pleased with her eyes ? — But what did she mean
by this?
In my conscience, my Harriet, little or much, I
believe we women are all rogues in our hearts.
And does Miss Grandison say that from her own
conscience ?
I believe I do : but I must fly : I have ten more
visits to pay before I go home to dress. You will
tell me all about your fellows, you say ?
And you will tell me about your entanglement, as
you called it.
Why that's a difficulty upon me : but you must
encourage me by your freedom, and we will take up
our wretches, and lay them down again, one by one,
as we run them over, and bid them lie still and be
quiet till we recal them to our memory.
But I have not one lover, my Charlotte, to tell
you of : I always gave them their dismission —
And I have but two, that at present I care to own ;
and they won't be dismissed : but then I have half a
dozen, I believe, that have said extravagant things to
me ; and we must look upon them as lovers elect,
you know, who only want to be coquetted with.
Miss Grandison, I hope, cannot think of coquet
ting?
286 THE HISTORY OF
Not much : only a little now-and-then, to pay the
men in their own coin.
Charming vivacity ! said I. I shall be undone, if
you don't love me.
No fear, no fear of that! — I am a whimsical crea
ture : but the sun is not more constant in his course
than I am steady in my friendships. And these com
munications on both sides will rivet us to each other,
if you treat me not with reserve.
She arose to go in a hurry. Abate, my dear
Charlotte, of half your other visits, and favour me
with your company a little longer.
Give me some chocolate then ; and let me see your
cousin Reeves's : I like them. Of the ten visits, six
of the ladies will be gone to sales, or to plague trades
men, and buy nothing : any-where rather than at
home : The devil's at home, Is a phrase : and our mo
dern ladies live as if they thought so. Two of the
other four called upon me, and hardly alighted : I
. shall do so by them. The other two I shall have
paid my compliments to in one quarter of an hour.
I rang for chocolate ; and to beg my cousins
company.
They wanted but the word : in they came. My
apartment (which she was pleased to admire) then
became the subject of a few moments' conversation:
and then a much better took place : Sir Charles, I
mean.
I asked, If her brother had any relations at Can
terbury ?
I protest I don't knqw, said she : but this I know,
that I have none there. Did I not hint to you, that
Sir Charles has his secrets? — But he sometimes loves
to play with my curiosity: he knows I have a reason
able quantity of that.
Were I his sister—
Then you must do as he would have you, Harriet
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 287
I know him to be steady in his purposes : but he is
besides so good, that I give up any-thing to oblige
him —
Your entanglement, Charlotte ? asked I, smiling.
Mr. Reeves knows nothing from that word .
Why, yes, my entanglement; and yet I hate to
think of it : so no more of that. It is the only secret
I have kept from him ; and that is, because he has
no suspicion of the matter : if he had, though my
life were to be the forfeit, I believe he would
have it.
She told us, that she expected us soon to dine
with her in St. James's Square : but that she must
fix Sir Charles. I hope, said she, you will often
drop in upon me ; as I will upon you. From this
time, we will have nothing but conversation visits
between us ; and we will leave the modern world to
themselves ; and be Queen Elizabeth's women. I
am sorry to tell you — Let me whisper it —
And she did ; but loud enough for every one to
hear : Although I follow the fashion, and make one
fool the more for it, I despise above one half of the
women I know.
Miss Grandison, affectedly whispered I again,
should not do so ; because her example is of weight
enough to amend them.
I'll be hanged if Miss Byron thinks so, re-whisper
ed she. The age is too far gone. Nothing but a
national calamity can do it. But let me tell you,
that, at the same time, I despise more than one half
of the men. But, speaking out, You and I will try
to think ourselves wiser than any-body else ; and we
shall have this comfort, we shall not easily find any
of our sex, who by their superior wisdom will give
us reason to think ourselves mistaken.
But adieu, adieu, and adieu, my agreeable friends :
let me see you, and you, and you, turning to each
of the three, as often as is convenient, without cere-
288 THE HISTORY OF
mony: and remember we have been acquainted
these hundred years.
Away she hurried, forbidding me to go out of my
apartment. Mrs. Reeves could not overtake her.
Mr. Reeves had much ado to be in time to make his
compliment. She was in her chariot before he could
offer his hand.
How pretty it was, my Lucy, in Miss Grandison,
to remember the names of all my dear friends ! She
told me, indeed, on Sunday, that she should.
If travelling into foreign countries gives ease and
politeness, would not one think that Miss Grandison
has visited every European court, as well as her
brother ? If she has not, was it necessary for Sir
Charles to go abroad to acquire that freedom and
ease which his sister has so happily attained with
out stirring out of the kingdom ?
These men had not best despise us, Lucy. There
is not, I hope, so much difference in the genius of
the two sexes as the proud ones among theirs are
apt to imagine ; especially when you draw compa
risons from equal degrees in both.
O Mr. Walden, take care of yourself, if ever again
you and I meet at Lady Betty's ! — But this abomi
nable Sir Hargrave ! Not one word more of meeting
at Lady Betty's! There saw I first the wretch that
still, on recollection, strikes terror into my heart.
Wednesday, a visit from Miss Clements and Lady
Betty took me off my writing about two hours ; yet
I over-writ myself, and was obliged to lie down for
about two more. At night we had Sir John A lies-
tree, and his nephew, Miss Allestree, Miss Cle
ments, and Lady Betty, at supper, and cards. But
my stomach paining me, about eleven I was per
mitted to retire to bed.
On Thursday I finished my letters, relating my
distresses, and deliverance. It was a dreadful sub
ject. I rejoiced when I had concluded it.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 289
The same day Mr. Reeves received Sir Charles'
letter, inclosing that of the wretched Wilson. I have
often heard my grandfather observe, that men of
truly great and brave spirits are most tender and
merciful ; and that, on the contrary, men of base and
low minds are cruel, tyrannical, insolent, wherever
they have power. What this short letter, so full of
lenity, of mercy, of generous and humane care for
the future good of a criminal, and extended to un
born families, as well as to all his acquaintance and
friends in being, enables one to judge of the truly
heroic Sir Charles Grandison ; and what I have ex
perienced of the low, grovelling, unmanly insults of
Sir Hargrave Pollexfen (I a poor defenceless silly
girl, tricked into his power) ; are flagrant proofs of
the justice of the observation.
I wish with all my heart, that the best woman in
the world were queen of a great nation : and that it
were in my power, for the sake of enlarging Sir
Charles's ability to do good, to make him her con
sort : then am I morally sure, that I should be the
humble means of making a whole people happy !
But as we had all been informed from other
hands, of Sir Hargrave'sthreatenings of Sir Charles's
life, Wilson's postscript has fastened a weight on my
heart, that will not be removed till the danger is
overblown.
This day I had Miss Grandison's compliments,
with tender enquiries, brought me ; and a desire,
that as she supposed my first visit would be one of
thankful duty, meaning to church (for so I had told
her it should) my next might be to her.
Yesterday I received the welcome packet from so
many kind friends ; and 1 prosecuted with the more
vigour, for it, my writing-task. How easily do we
glide into subjects that please us! — How swiftly flies
the pen ! — The characters of Sir Charles and of Miss
VOL.I. cc
290 THE HISTORY OF
Grandison were the subjects ; and I was amazed to
find how much I had written in so short a time.
Miss Grandison sent me in the evening of this
day her compliments joined with those of her bro
ther, who was but just returned from Canterbury.
I wonder what Sir Charles could do at Canter
bury so many days, and to have nobody there whom
his sister knows.
She would have made me a visit, she sent me
word ; but that as she expected her brother in the
morning, she had intended to have brought him
with her. She added, that this morning (Saturday)
they should both set out for Colnebrooke, in hopes
of the Earl and Countess of L. arriving there as
this night from Scotland.
Do you think, Lucy, it would not have been ge
nerous in Sir Charles to have made one visit, before
he set out for so many days, to that Canterbury, to
the creature on whom he had laid such an obligation?
I can only mean as to the civility of the thing, you
must think ; since he was so good as to join in, nay,
to propose, the further intimacy, as a brother, and
friend, and sO-forth — I wish that Sir Charles be as
sincere in his professions as his sister. He may in
his travels (possibly he may) have mistaken some
gay weeds for fine flowers, and picked them up, and
brought them with him to England : and yet, if he
has done so, he will, even then, be superior to thou
sands, who travel, .and bring home nothing but the
weeds of foreign climates.
He once said, as Miss Grandison told me, that
the Countess of L. is still a more excellent woman
than my Charlotte. Ah! Sir Charles ! You can tell
fibs, I believe. I will not forgive in you, those
slighter deviations, which we are too apt to pass by
in other, even tolerable, men.
I wish you may be in earnest, my good Sir, in pro
posing to cultivate an intimate friendship with me, as
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 291
that of a brother to a sister [Shake your head, my
Lucy, if you will, I mean no more] that I may be
intitled to tell you your faults, as I see them. In
your sister Harriet you shall find, though a respect
ful, yet an open-eyed monitor. Our Charlotte thinks
you cannot be wrong in any-thing.
All I fear is, that Sir Charles's tenderness was de
signed to be excited only while my spirits were weak.
Yet he bespoke a brotherly relation to me, before
Mr. Reeves, when he brought me home, and sup
posed me stolen from his family in my infancy. That
was going farther than was necessary, if he thought
to drop the fraternal character soon.
But might not my own behaviour alarm him ? The
kind, the considerate man, is perhaps compassionate
in his intention. Not distinguishing aright my bash
ful gratitude, and down-cast eye, he might be
afraid, lest I should add one to the half-score, that
his sister says will die if he marry.
If this be so, what, my dear, will your Harriet
deserve, if his caution does not teach her some ?
After all, I believe, these men in general think our
hearts are made of strange combustible materials.
A spark struck, a match thrown in — But the best of
men, this admirable man, will, I hope, find himself
mistaken, if he thinks so of your Harriet.
What ails me, that I am grown such a boaster !
Surely, this horrid attempt of Sir Hargrave has not
affected my brain. Methinks I am not, some how
or other, as I used to be in my head, or heart, I
know not which.
Do you, Lucy, bring me back again, by your
reminding love, if you think there is any alteration
in your Harriet, for the worse : and the rather, as
it may prevent my uncle —
But what makes me so much more afraid of my
uncle, that I used to be?— Yet men in their raillery,
cc2
292 THE HISTORY OF
[don't, however, read this paragraph to him] are
so — I don't know how — so ww-tender — But let me
fall into the hands of my indulgent grandmamma,
and aunt Selby, and into your gentle hands, and all
will be as it should be.
But what was my subject, before this last seized,
and ran away with, my pen? I did not use to wan
der thus, when I had a beaten path before me. O
this vile, vile Sir Hargrave ! If I have a fault in my
head that did not use to be there, it is entirely owing
to him. I am sure my heart is not wrong.
But I can write nothing now but of Miss Grandi-
son and her brother. What entirely new scenes are
opened to me by my distress ? — May I have cause,
as Sir Charles wished, to reap good from the evil!
I will endeavour to bring Miss Clements into an
acquaintance with these worthies; that is to say,
if I have myself the interest to preserve my footing
in their favour.
Lady Betty resolves to recommend herself. She
tvittbe acquainted with them, she says, whether they
will or not. And yet I could not bear for Lady Betty
that she should be slighted by those whom she dotes
upon. That, surely, is one of the heaviest of evils.
And yet self-love, where it is evidently inherent, will
enable one to get over it ; I believe, pretty soon ;
though nothing but that and pride can, in such. O f
some use, therefore, you'll be apt to say, are pride
and self-love. • Why, yes, and so they are, where
they are a part of a person's habit. But, O my
Lucy, will not a native humility render this pride,
whose genuine offspring are resentment and ill-will,
absolutely unnecessary, and procure for us, un-
mingled with mortification, the esteem we wish for
in the hearts of the worthy ?
As to the rest of my new acquaintance in town,
who, till I knew this admirable sister and brother,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 293
took up so much of my paper, though some of them
are doubtless very worthy ; Adieu — That is to say,
as chosen subjects — Adieu ! says your
HARRIET BYRON.
LETTER XXXVIII.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Saturday night.
LORD have mercy upon me, my dear! — What shall
I do? — The vile Sir Hargrave has sent a challenge
to Sir Charles! — What may be the event— O that I
had not come to London ! — This is a copy of the
letter, that communicates it. — It is from that Ba-
genhall. But this is the copy of the letter — I will
endeavour to transcribe it — But, no, I cannot — My
Sally shall write it over. Lord bless me ! What
shall I do?
TO MISS BYRON.
MADAM, Cavendish Square, February 25.
You might easily believe, that the affair betwixt Sir
Hargrave Pollexfen and Sir Charles Grandison could
not, after so violent an insult as the former received
from the latter, end without consequences.
By all that's sacred, Sir Hargrave knows not
that I write.
There is but one way that I can think of to pre
vent bloodshed; and that, madam, seems to be in
your own power.
Sir Hargrave insists upon it, that he meant you
nothing but honour. You know the use or abuse o,
cc 3
294; THE HISTORY OF
the power he had obtained over you. If he behaved
with indecency, he tells me not the truth.
To make a young lady, whatever were her merit,
the wife of a man of near 10,000/. a year, and who
had declared herself absolutely disengaged in her
affections, was not doing dishonour to her, so much
as to himself, in the violent measures his love obliged
him to take to make her so.
Now, madam, Sir Charles Grandison was utter
ly a stranger to you; as SirHargrave intended so
honourably by you; and as you are not engaged in
your aifections ; if you will consent to be Lady Pol-
lexfen; and if Sir Charles Grandison will ask pardon
for his unprovoked knight-errantry ; I will not be Sir
Margrave's second in the affair, if he refuse to accept
of such satisfactioninfull for the violence he sustained.
I solemnly repeat, that Sir Hargrave knows no
thing of my writing to you. . You may (but I insist
upon it, as in confidence to every-body else) consult
your cousin Reeves on the subject. Your honour
given, that you will in a month's time be Sir Har-
grave's, will make me exert all my power with him
(and I have reason to think that is not small) to in
duce him to compromise on those terms.
I went to Sir Charles's house this afternoon, with
a letter from Sir Hargrave. Sir Charles was just
stepping into his chariot to his sister. He opened
it; and, with a civility that became his character, told
me he was just going with his sister to Colnebrook,
to meet dear friends on their return from Scotland :
that he should return on Monday; that the pleasure
he should have with his long-absent friends, would
not permit him to think of the contents till then :
but that the writer should not fail of such an answer
as a gentleman ought to give.
Now, madam, J was so much charmed with Sir
Charles Grandison's fine person and politeness, and
SIR CHARLES GltANDISON. 295
his character is so extraordinary, that I thought
this interval between this night and Monday morn
ing a happy one. And I took it into my head to
make the above proposal to you ; and I hope you
will think it behoves you, as much as it does me, to
prevent the fatal mischief that may otherwise hap
pen to men of their consideration.
I have not the honour of being personally known
to you, madam ; but my character is too generally
established for any one to impute to me any other
motives for this my application to you, than those
above given. A line left for me at Sir Hargrave's,
in Cavendish Square, will come to the hands of,
madam,
Your most obedient humble servant,
JAMES BAGENHALL.
O my dear! What a letter! — Mr. Reeves, Mrs.
Reeves, are grieved to the heart. Mr. Reeves says,
that if Sir Hargrave insists upon it, Sir Charles is
obliged, in honour, to meet him — Murderous, vile
word honour! What, at this rate, is honour! The
very opposite to duty, goodness, piety, religion ;
and to every thing that is or ought to be sacred
among men.
How shall I look Miss Grandison in the face ?
Miss Grandison will hate me ! — To be again the oc
casion of endangering the life of such a brother !
But, what do you think ? — Lady Betty is of opinion
— Mr. Reeves has consulted Lady Betty Williams,
in confidence— Lady Betty says, that if the matter
can be prevented — Lord bless me! she says, I ought
to prevent it! — What! by becoming the wife of such
a man as Sir Hargrave ! so unmanly, so malicious, so
low a wretch ! — What does Lady Betty mean ?— Yet
were it in my power to save the life of Sir Charles
Grandison, and I refused to do it ; for selfish reasons
296 THE HISTORY OF
refused; for the sake of my worldly happiness ; when
there are thousand* of good wives, who are miser-
able with bad husbands — But will not the sacrifice
of my life be accepted by this sanguinary man!
That, with all my heart, would I make no scruple to
lay down. If the wretch will plunge a dagger in
my bosom, and take that for satisfaction, I will not
hesitate one moment.
But my cousin said, that he was of opinion, that
Sir Charles would hardly be brought to ask pardon.
How can I doubt, said I, that the vile man, if he may
be induced by this Bagenhall to compromise on my
being his wife, will dispense with that punctilio, and
wreak on me, were I to be his unhappy property, his
whole unmanly vengeance? Is he not spiteful, mean,
malicious? — But, abhorred be the thought of my
yielding to be the wife of such a man ! — Yet, what
is the alternative ? Were I to die, that wretched al
ternative would still take place : his malice to the
best of men would rather be whetted than blunted by
my irrevocable destiny ! O my Lucy ! violent as my
grief was, dreadful as my apprehensions were, and
unmanly as the treatment I met with from the base
man, I never was distressed till now !
But should Miss Grandison advise, should she
insist upon my compliance with the abhorred condi
tion (and has she not a right to insist upon it, for the
sake of the safety of her innocent brother?) can I
then refuse my compliance with it ? — Are we not
taught, that this world is a state of trial, and of mor
tification? And is not calamity necessary to wean
our vain hearts from it ? And if my motive be a mo
tive of justice and gratitude, and to save a life much
more valuable to the world than my own ; and which,
but for me had not been in danger — Ought I — And
yet — Ah! my Lucy! what can I say? — How un
happy ! that I cannot consult this dear lady, who has
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 297
such an interest in a life so precious, as I might
have done, had she been in town!
O Lucy! What an answer, as this unwelcome,
this wicked mediator gives it, was that which the
excellent man returned to the delivered challenge
— " I am going to meet dear friends on their return
from Scotland! " What a meeting of joy will be
here saddened over, if they know of this shocking
challenge! And how can his noble heart overflow
with pleasure on this joyful occasion, as it would
otherwise have done, with such an important event
in suspense, that may make it the last meeting which
this affectionate and most worthy of families will
ever know ! How near may be the life of this dear
brother to a period, when he congratulates the safe
arrival of his brother and sister ! And who can bear
to think of seeing, ere one week is over-past, the
now rejoicing and harmonious family, clad in mourn
ing for the first of brothers, and first of men ? And
I, my Lucy, I, the wretched Harriet Byron, to be
the cause of all !
And could the true hero say, " That the pleasure
he should have on meeting his long-absent friends
would not permit him to think of the contents of
such a letter, till Monday ; but that then the waiter
should not fail of such an answer — as a gentleman
ought to give ?" — O my dear Sir Charles ! [on this
occasion he is, and ought to be, very dear to me]
How I dread the answer which vile custom, and
false honour, will oblige you, as a gentleman, to
give ! And is there no way with honour to avoid
giving such an answer, as distracts me to be told
(as Mr. Reeves tells me) must be given, if I, your
Harriet, interpose not, to the sacrifice of all my
happiness in this life ?
But Mr. Reeves asks, May not this Bagenhall,
though he says Sir Hargrave knows nothing of his
298 THE HISTORY OF
writing, have written in concert with him? — What
if he has, does not the condition remain ? And will
not the resentment, on the refusal, take place ? — And
is not the challenge delivered into Sir Charles's
hands ? And has he not declared, that he will send an
answer to it on Monday ? This is carrying the mat
ter beyond contrivance or stratagem. Sir Charles,
so challenged, will not let the challenger come offso
easily. He cannot, in real honour, now, make pro
posals for qualifying ; or accept of them, if made to
him. And is not Monday the next day but one ?
— Only that day between, for which I have been
preparing my grateful heart to return my silent
praises to the Almighty, in the place dedicated to
his honour, for so signal a deliverance ! And now
is my safety to be owing, as it may happen, to a
much better person's destruction !
* *
I was obliged to lay down my pen. — See how the
blistered paper — It is too late to send away this let
ter: if it were not, it would be barbarous to torment
you with it, while the dreadful suspense holds.
Sunday morning.
I am unable to write on in the manner I used to
do. Not a moment all the night past did I close my
eyes: how they are swelled with weeping! I am
Preparing, however, to go to church : there will
renew my fervent prayers, that my grateful
thanksgiving for the past deliverance may be bless
ed to me in the future event !
Mr. Reeves thinks, that no step ought to be, or
can be taken in this shocking affair, till Sir Charles
returns, or Miss Grandison can be consulted. He
has taken measures to know every motion of the
vile Sir Hargrave.
Lord bless me, my dear! the man has lost three of
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 299
his fore-teeth ! A man so vain of his person ! O how
must he be exasperated!
Mr. Reeves also will be informed of Sir Charles's
arrival the moment he comes to town. He has pri
vate information that the furious Sir Hargrave has
with him a man skilled in the science of offence,
with whom he is practising — O my dear, how this
distracts me !
For Mr. Reeves or me to answer this Bagenhall,
Mr. Reeves says, is not to be thought of, as he is a
wicked man, and was not likely to have written the
alarming letter from good principles. 1 once indeed
proposed to write — I knew not what to do, what to
propose — Can you write, said Mr. Reeves, and pro
mise or give hope to Sir Hargrave ?
O no, no ! answered I.
If you could, it is my opinion, that Sir Charles
and his sister would both despise you, however self-
denying and laudable your motive might be.
LETTER XXXIX.
MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION.
Monday morning, February 27.
WHAT a dreadful day was yesterday to me ; and
what a still worse night had I, if possible, than the
former ! My prayers, I doubt, cannot be heard,
since they have not that affiance with them that they
used to be attended with. How happy was I before
I came to London ! I cannot write : I cannot do
any-thing. Mr. Reeves is just informed, that Sir
Charles and Lord L. and the two sisters, arrived in
town late last night. O my Lucy, to return such
300 THE HISTORY OF
an answer, I doubt, as Sir Charles thinks a gentleman
ought to send. Good heaven ! how will this end?
Eight o'clock.
I have received this moment the following billet.
MY DEAR HARRIET,
Prepare yourself for a new admirer : my sister L.
and 1 are resolved to breakfast with you, unless
you forbid us by the bearer. If we find you to have
made an attempt to alter your usual morning ap
pearance, we shall suspect you of a desire to triumph
over us in the conciousness of your superior graces.
It is a sudden resolution. You should otherwise
have had notice last night; and yet it was late
before we came to town. — Have you been good ?
Are you quite recovered ? But in half an hour I hope
to ask you an hundred thousand questions.
Compliments to our cousins.
CH. GR.
Here is a sweet sprightly billet. Miss Grandison
cannot know, the countess cannot know, any-thing
of the dreadful affair, that has given to my coun
tenance, and I am sure will continue on it, an
appearance, that, did I not always dress when I
arose for the morning, would make me regardless of
'that Miss Grandison hints at.
What joy, at another time, would the honour of
this visit have given us ! But even now, we have a
melancholy pleasure in it : just such a one, as the
sorrowing friends of the desperate sick experience,
on the coming-in of a long-expected physician, al
though they are in a manner hopeless of his success.
But a coach stops —
I ran to the dining-room window. O my dear !
It is a coach ! but only the two ladies ! Good God !
— Sir Charles at this moment, at this moment, my
boding heart tells me —
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOHT. 301
Twelve o'clock.
My heart is a little lighter : yet not unapprehen
sive — Take my narrative in course, as I shall en
deavour to give you the particulars of every-thing
that passed in the last more than agreeable three
hours.
I had just got down into the great parlour, be
fore the ladies entered. Mr. Reeves waited on
them at their coach. He handed in the countess.
Miss Grandison in a charming humour entered with
them. There, Lady L. first know our cousin
Reeves, said she —
The countess, after saluting Mrs. Reeves, turned
to me — There, Lady L. said Miss Grandison, That's
the girl ! That's our Harriet ! [Her ladyship salut
ed me] But how now ! said Miss Grandison, look
ing earnestly in my face. How now, Harriet ! —
Excuse me, Lady L. (taking my hand) I must rec
kon with this girl ; leading me to the window — How
now, Harriet ! — Those eyes ! — Mr. Reeves, cousin,
Mrs. Reeves ! What's to do here !
Lively and ever amiable Miss Grandison, thought
I, how will, by-and-by, all this sweet sunshine in
your countenance be shut in !
Come, come, I mill know, proceeded she, making
me sit down, and taking my hand as she sat by me ;
I voill know the whole of the matter. — That's my
dear, for I tried to smile — An April eye — Would to
heaven the month was come which my Harriet's
eye anticipates.
I sighed. Well, but why that heavy sigh ? said
she. — Our grandmother Shirley—
I hope, madam, is very well.
Our aunt Selby ? Our uncle Selby ? Our Lucy ?
All well I hope.
What a deuce ails the girls then ? Take care I
D D
302- THE HISTORY OF
don't have cause to beat you ! — Have any of your
fellows hanged themselves ? — And are you concern
ed they did not sooner find the rope ? — But come,
we will know all by-and-by.
Charlotte, said Lady L. approaching me [I stood
up] you oppress our new sister : 1 wish, my dear,
you would borrow a few of our younger sister's
blushes. Let me take you out of this lively girl's
hands : I have much ado to keep her down, though
I am her elder sister. Nobody but my brother
can manage her.
Miss Grandison, madam, is all goodness.
We have been all disturbed, said Mrs. Reeves
[I was glad to be helped out] in the fear that Sir
Hargrave Pollexfen —
0 madam! He dare not; he will not: — he'll be
glad to be quiet, if you'll let him, said the countess.
It was plain they knew nothing of the challenge.
You have not heard any-thing particular, asked
Miss Grandison, of Sir Hargrave ?
1 hope your brother, madam, has not, answered I.
Not a word, I dare say.
You must believe, ladies, said I, that I must be
greatly affected, were any-thing likely to happen to
my deliverer ; as I should have been the unhappy
cause. Such a family harmony to be interrupted-
Come, said Miss Grandison, this is very good of
you : this is like a sister : but I hope my brother
will be here by-and-by.
And Lord L. added the obliging countess, wants
to see you, my dear. Come, Miss Byron, if Char
lotte is naught, we will make a party against her ;
and she shall be but my second-best sister. I hope,
my Lord and Sir Charles will come together, if they
can but shake off wicked Everard, as we call a
kinsman, whom Sir Charles has no mind to intro
duce to you, without your leave.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 303
But we'll not stay breakfast for them, said Miss
Grandison : they were not certain : and desired we
would not. — Come, come, get us some breakfast ;
Lady L. has been up before her hour ; and I have
told you, Harriet, that I am an early riser. I don't
ioose to eat my gloves. — But I must do something
to divert my hunger : and stepping to the harpsi
chord, she touched the keys in such a manner, as
shewed she could make them speak what language
she pleased.
I attended to her charming finger : so did every
one. But breakfast coming in — No but I won't,
said she, anticipating our requests ; and continuing
the air by her voice, ran to the table : Hang cere
mony, said she, sitting down first ; let slower souls
compliment : and taking some muffin, I'll have break
fasted before these Pray madams, and Pray my
dears, are seated.
Mad girl! Lady L. called her. These, Mrs.
Reeves, are always her airs with us : but I thought
she would have been restrained by the example of
her sister Harriet. We have utterly spoiled the girl
by our fond indulgence. But, Charlotte, is a good
heart to be everywhere pleaded for a whimsical head?
Who sees not the elder sister in that speech ? re
plied Miss Grandison : but I am the most generous
creature breathing ; yet nobody finds it out. Fof
why do I assume these silly airs, but to make youy
Lady L. shine at my expence ?
Still, Lucy, the contents of that Bagenhall's let
ter hung heavy at my heart. But as I could not
be sure but Sir Charles had his reasons for conceal
ing the matter from his sisters, I knew not how to
enter directly into the subject : but, thought I, can
not I fish something out for the quiet of my own
heart ; and leave to Sir Charles's discretion the man
ner of his revealing the matter to his sisters, or
otherwise ? D D 2
304 THE HISTORY OF
Did your ladyship, said I to Lady L. arrive on
Saturday [I knew not how to begin] at the hospit
able house at Colnebrook, my asylum ?
I did : and shall have a greater value for that house
than ever I had before, for its having afforded a
shelter to so valued a lady.
You have been told, ladies, I suppose, of that
Wilson's letter to Sir Charles ?
We have : and rejoice to find that so deep a plot
was so happily frustrated.
His postscript gives me concern.
What were the contents of it ?
That Sir Hargrave breathed nothing but revenge.
Sir Charles told us nothing of that : but it is not
unlikely that a man so greatly disappointed should
rave and threaten. I am told that he is still, either
by shame, or illness, confined to his chamber.
At that moment, a chariot stopt at the door : and
instantly, It is Lord L. and Sir Charles with him,
said Miss Grandison.
I dared not to trust myself with my joy. I hur
ried out at one of the doors, as if I had forgot
something, as they entered at the other. I rushed
into the back parlour — Thank God! thank God!
said I — My gratitude was too strong for my heart :
I thought I should have fainted.
Do you wonder, Lucy, at my being so much af
fected, when I had been in such a dreadful suspense,
and had formed such terrible ideas of the danger of
one of the best of men, all owing to his serving and
saving me ?
Surprises from joy, I fancy, and where gratitude
is the principal spring, are sooner recovered from
than surprises which raise the more stormy passions.
Mrs. Reeves came into me : My dear ! your with
drawing will be noticed. I was just coming in, said
I : and so I was. I went in.
Sir Charles bowed low to me : so did my lord.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. S05
Permit me, madam, said Sir Charles, to present Lord
L. to you : he is our brother — Our late-found sister
Harriet, my lord.
Sir Charles, said Miss Grandison, Miss Byron,
and Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, have been tormenting
themselves about a postscript to that footman's let
ter. You told not us of that postscript.
Who minds postscripts, Charlotte? Except indeed
to a lady's letter. One word with you, good Misp
Byron ; taking my hand, and leading me to the win
dow.
How the fool coloured ! I could feel my face glow.
0 Lucy ! What a consciousness of inferiority fills
a mind not ungenerous, when it labours under the
sense of obligations it cannot return !
My sister Charlotte, madam, was impatient to
present to you her beloved sister. Lady L. was as
impatient to attend you. My Lord L. was equally
desirous to claim the honour of your acquaintance.
They insisted upon my introducing my lord. I
thought it was too precipitate a visit, and might hurt
your delicacy, and make Charlotte and me appear,
as if we had been ostentatiously boasting of the op
portunities that had been thrown into our hands, to
do a very common service. I think I see that you
are hurt. Forgive me, madam, I will follow my own
judgment another time. Only be assured of this,
that your merits, and not the service, have drawn
this visit upon you.
1 could not be displeased at this polite address, as
it helped me to an excuse for behaving so like a fool,
as he might think, since he knew not the cause.
You are very obliging, Sir. My Lord and Lady
L. do me great honour. Miss Grandison cannot do
any-thing but what is agreeable to me. In such
company, I am but a common person : but my gra
titude will never let me look upon your seasonable
D D 3
306 THE HISTORY OF
protection as a common service. I am only anxious
for the consequences to yourself. I should have no
pretence to the gratitude I speak of, if I did not
own, that the reported threatenings, and what Wilson
writes by way of postscript, have given me disturb
ance, lest your safety should, on my account, be
brought into hazard.
Miss Byron speaks like herself: but whatever
were to be the consequences, can you think, madam,
that a man of any spirit could have acted otherwise
than I did ? Would I not have been glad, that any
man would have done just the same thing, in favour
of my sister Charlotte? Could I behave with greater
moderation ? I am pleased with myself on looking
back ; and that I am not always : there shall no
consequences follow, that I am not forced upon in
my own necessary defence.
We spoke loud enough to be heard : and Miss
Grandison, joining us, said, But pray, brother, tell
us, if there be grounds to apprehend any- thing from
what the footman writes ?
You cannot imagine but Sir Hargrave would blus
ter and threaten : to lose such a prize, so near as he
thought himself to carrying his point, must affect a
man of his cast : but are ladies to be troubled with
words ? Men of true courage do not threaten.
Shall I beg one word with you, Sir Charles ? said
Mr. Reeves.
They withdrew to the back parlour: and there
Mr. Reeves, who had the letter of that Bagenhall,
shewed it to him.
He read it — A very extraordinary letter ! said he ;
and gave it back to him — But pray, what says Miss
Byron to it ? — Is she willing to take this step in
consideration of my safety ?
You may believe, Sir Charles, she is greatly
distressed.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 307
As a tender-hearted woman, and as one who
thinks already rriuch too highly of what was done,
she may be distressed : but does she hesitate a mo
ment upon the part she ought to take ? Does she
not despise the writer and the writing ? — I thought
Miss Byron —
He stopt, it seems, and spoke and looked warm ;
the first time, said Mr. Reeves, that I thought Sir
Charles, on occasion, passionate.
I wish, Lucy, that he had not stopt, I wish he
had said what he thought Miss Byron. I own to
you, that it would go to my heart, if I knew that
Sir Charles Grandison thought me a mean creature.
You must think, Sir Charles, that Miss Byron —
Pray, Mr. Reeves, forgive me for interrupting
you ; What steps have been taken upon this letter ?
None, Sir.
It has not been honoured with notice ; not with
the least notice ?
It has not.
And could it be supposed by these mean men
(all men are mean, Mr. Reeves, who can bepremedi-
tatedly guilty of a baseness) that I would be brought
to ask pardon for my part in this affair ? No man,
Mr. Reeves, would be more ready than myself to
ask pardon, even of my inferior, had I done a wrong
thing : but never should a prince make me stoop to
disavow a right one.
But, Sir Charles, let me ask you, Has Sir Har-
grave challenged you ? Did this Bagenhall bring
you a letter ?
Sir Hargrave has : Bagenhall did : but what of
that, Mr. Reeves ? I promised an answer on Mon
day. I would not so much as think of setting pen
to paper on such an account, to interrupt for a mo
ment the happiness I had hoped to receive in the
308 THE HISTORY OF
meeting of a sister and her lord, so dear to me : an
answer I have accordingly sent him this day.
You have sent him an answer, Sir ! — I am in great
apprehensions —
You have no reason, Mr. Reeves, I do assure you.
But let not my sisters, nor Lord L. know of this
matter. Why should I, who cannot have a moment's
uneasiness upon it, for my otvn sake, have the need
less fears and apprehensions of persons to whom I
wish to give nothing but pleasure, to contend with ?
An imaginary distress, to those who think it more
than imaginary, is a real one : and I cannot bear to
see my friends unhappy.
Have you accepted, Sir — Have you—
I have been too much engaged, Mr. Reeves, in
such causes as this : I never drew my sword but in
my own defence, and when no other means could
defend me. I never could bear a designed insult.
I am naturally passionate. You know not the pains
it has cost me, to keep my passion under : but I
have suffered too much in my after-regret, when I
have been hurried a\ray by it, not to endeavour to
restrain its first sallies.
I hope, Sir, you will not meet —
I will not meet any man, Mr. Reeves, as a duel
list : I am not so much a coward, as to be afraid of
being branded for one. I hope my spirit is in ge
neral too well known for any one to insult me on
such an imputation. Forgive the seeming vanity,
Mr. Reeves : but I live not to the world : I live to
myself; to the monitor within me.
Mr. Reeves applauded him with his hands and
eyes ; but could not in words. The heart spoke
these last words, said my good cousin. How did his
face seem to shine in my eyes !
There are many bad customs, Mr. Reeves, that I
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 309
grieve for : but for none so much as this of preme
ditated duelling. Where is the magnanimity of the
man that cannot get above the vulgar breath ? How
many fatherless, brotherless, sonless families have
mourned all their lives the unhappy resort to this
dreadful practice ! A man who defies his fellow-
creature into the field, in a private quarrel, must first
defy his God ; and what are his hopes, but to be a
murderer ? to do an irreparable injury to the inno
cent family and dependents of the murdered ? — But
since you have been let into the matter so far, by the
unaccountable letter you let me see, I will shew you
Sir Hargrave's to me. — This is it, taking it out of
his pocket-book.
You did well, Sir Charles Grandison, to leave your
name. My scoundrels were too far off their master
to inform themselves, who the person was that in
sulted an innocent man ( as to him, innocent, how
ever) on the highway. You expected to hear from
me, it is evident ; and you should have heard before
now, had I been able from the effects of the unmanly
surprise you took advantage of, to leave my cham
ber. I demand from you the satisfaction due to a
gentleman. The time your own ; provided it exceed
not next Wednesday ; which will give you opportu
nity, I suppose, to settle your affairs ; but the sooner
the better. The place, if you have no objection,
Kensington Gravel-pits. I will bring pistols for your
choice ; or you may for mine, which you will. The
rest may be left to my worthy friend Mr. Bagenhall,
who is so kind as to carry you this, on my part ; and
to some one whom you shall pitch upon, on youra.
Till when, I am
Your humble servant,
Saturday. MARGRAVE POLLEXFEN.
310 THE HISTORY OF
I have a copy of my answer somewhere — Here it
is. You will wonder, perhaps, Mr. Reeves, on such
a subject as this, to find it a long one. Had Sir Har-
grave known me better than he does, six lines
might have been sufficient.
SIR,
Mr. Bagenhall gave me yours on Saturday last, just
as I was stepping into my chariot to go out of town.
Neither the general contents, nor thetime mentioned
in it, made it necessary for me to alter my measures.
My sister was already in the chariot. I had not
fkme well to make a woman uneasy. I have many
friends ; and 1 have great pleasure in promoting theirs.
I promised an answer on Monday.
My answer is this— I have ever refused (and the
occasion has happened too often) to draw my sword
upon a set and formal challenge. Yet I have reason
to think, from the skill I pretend to have in the
weapons, that in declining to do so, I consult my
conscience rather than my safety.
Have you any friends, Sir Hargrave? Do they
love you ? Do you love them ? Are you desirous of
life for their sakes ? for your own ? — Have you ene
mies to whom your untimely end would give plea
sure? — Let these considerations weigh with you;
they do, and always did, with me. I am cool : you
cannot be so. The cool person, on such an occasion
as this, should put the warm one on thinking : this
however as you please.
But one more question let me ask you — If you
think I have injured you, is it prudent to give me a
chance, were it but a chance, to do you a still greater
injury ?
You were engaged in an unlawful enterprise. If
you would not have done by me in the same situa
tion, what I did by you, you are not, let me tell
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOtf. 311
you, Sir Hargrave, the man of honour, that a man
of honour should be solicitous to put upon a foot
with himself.
I took not an unmanly advantage of you, Sir Har
grave : you drew upon me : I drew not in return.
You had a disadvantage in not quittingyour chariot;
after the lunge you made at me, you may be thank
ful that I made not use of it.
I should not have been sorry had I been able to
give the lady the protection she claimed, with less
hurt to yourself: for I could have no malice in what
I did : although I had, and have still, a just abhor
rence of the violence you were guilty of to a helpless
woman ; and who I have found since merited better
treatment from you; and indeed merits the best
from all the world ; and whose life was endangered
by the violence.
I write a long letter, because I propose only to
write. Pardon me for repeating, that the men who
have acted as you and I have acted, as well with re
gard to the lady, as to each other, cannot, were their
principles such as would permit them to meet, meet
upon a foot.
Let any man insult me upon my refusal, and put
me upon my defence, and he shall find that numbers
to my single arm shall not intimidate me. Yet, even
in that case, I would much rather choose to clear
myself of them as a man of honour should wish to
do, than either to kill or maim any man. My life
is not my own : much less is another man's mine.
Him who thinks differently from me, I can despise
as heartily as he can despise me. And if such a
one imagines, that he has a title to my life, let him
take it : but it must be in my own way, not in his.
In a word, If any man has aught against me, and
will not apply for redress to the laws of his country,
my goings out, and comings in, are always known ;
3
312 THE HISTORY OF
and I am any hour of the day to be found, or met
with, wherever I have a proper call. My sword is
a sword of defence, not of offence. A pistol I only
carry on the road, to terrify robbers : and I have
found a less dangerous weapon sometimes sufficient
to repel a sudden insult. And now, if Sir Hargrave
Pollexfen be wise, he will think himself obliged for
this not unfriendly expostulation, or whatever he
pleases to call it, to
His most humble servant,
Monday. CHARLES GRANDISON.
Mr. Reeves besought Sir Charles to let him shew
me these letters. You may, Mr. Reeves, said he ;
since I intend not to meet Sir Hargrave in the way
he prescribes.
As I asked not leave, my Lucy, to take copies of
them, I beg they may not be seen out of the venera
ble circle.
I know I need not say how much I am pleased
with the contents of the latter : I doubt not but you
all will be equally so : yet, as Sir Charles himself
expects not that Sir Hargrave will rest the matter
here ; and indeed says he cannot, consistently with
the vulgar notions of honour ; do you think I can
be easy, as all this is to be placed to my account ?
But it is evident, that Sir Charles is. He is go
verned by another set of principles, than those of
false honour ; and shews, what his sister says to be
true, that he regards first his duty, and then wh at is
called honour. How does the knowledge of these
his excellencies raise him in my mind ! Indeed,
Lucy, I seem sometimes to feel, as if my gratitude
had raised a throne for "him in my heart; but yet as
for a near friend, as a beloved brother only. My
reverence for him is too great — Assure yourself,
my dear, that this reverence will always keep me
right.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 313
Sir Charles and Mr. Reeves returning into com
pany, the conversation took a general turn. But,
oppressed with obligations as I am, I could not be
lively. My heart, as Miss Grandison says, is, I be
lieve, a proud one. And when I thought of what
might still happen (who knows, but from assassina
tion, in resentment of some very spirited strokes in
Sir Charles's letter, as well as from the disgrace the
wretch must carry in his face to the grave ?) I could
not but look upon this fine man who seemed to pos
sess his own soul in peace, sometimes with concern,
and even with tender grief, on supposing, that now,
lively and happy as he seemed to be, and the joy of
all his friends, he might possibly, and perhaps in a
few hours — How can I put down my horrid thoughts !
At other times, indeed, I cast an eye of some
pleasure on him (when he looked another way) on
thinking him the only man on earth, to whom, in
such distress, I could have wished to owe the obli
gations I am under to him. His modest merit,
thought I, will not make one uneasy : he thinks the
protection afforded but a common protection. He
is accustomed to do great and generous things. I
might have been obliged to a man whose fortune
might have made it convenient for him to hope such
advantages from the risque he run for me, as pru
dence would have made objections to comply with,
not a little embarrassing to my gratitude.
But here, my heart is left free. And O, thought
I, now-and-then, as I looked upon him, Sir Charles
Grandison is a man with whom I would not wish to
be in love. I, to have so many rivals ! He, to be so
much admired ! Women not to stay till they are
asked, as Miss Grandison once said ; his heart must
be proof against those tender sensations, which grow
into ardour, and glow, in the bosom of a man pur
suing a first and only love.
3H< THE HISTORY OT
I warrant, my Lucy, if the truth were known, al
though Sir Charles has at Canterbury, or at one
place or other, his half-score ladies, who would
break their hearts if he were to marry, yet he
knows not any one of them whom he loves better than
another. And all but right ! All but justice, if they
will not stay till they are asked !
Miss Grandison invited Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, and
me, to dinner, on Wednesday, and for the rest of
the day and evening. It was a welcome invitation.
The countess expressed herself pleased with me.
Poor and spiritless as was the figure which I made
in this whole visit, her prepossession in my favour
from Miss Grandison must havabeen very great and
generous.
And will you not, before now, have expected that
I should have brought you acquainted with the per
sons of Lord and Lady L. as I am accustomed to
give you descriptions of every one to whom I am
introduced ?
To be sure we have, say you.
Well, but my mind has not always been in tune to
Ctify you. And, upon my word, I am so much
nbled with one thing and another, that I have
lost all that pertness, I think, which used to give
such a liveliness to my heart, and alertness to my
pen, as made the writing task pleasant to me, because
I knew that you all condescended to like the flippant
airs of your Harriet.
Lady L is a year older than Sir Charles : but has
that true female softness and delicacy in her features,
which make her perfectly lovely; and she looks to
be twe or three years younger than she is. She is
tall and slender ; and enjoys the blessings of health
and spirits in a high degree. There is something of
more dignity and sprightliness in the air and features
of Miss Grandison, than in those of Lady L. : but
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 315
there is in those of the latter, so much sweetness and
complacency, that you are not so much afraid of her
as you are of her sister. The one you are sure to love
at first sight: the other you will be ready to ask leave
to let you love her ; and to be ready to promise that
you will, if she will spare you : and yet, whether she
will or not, you cannot help it.
Lady L. is such a wife, I imagine, as a good wo
man should wish to be thought. The behaviour of
my lord to her, and of her to my lord, is free, yet
respectful : and affectionate, but not apishly fond.
One sees their love for each other in their eyes. All
love-matches are not happy : this was a match of
love ; and does honour to it. E very-body speaks of
Lady L. with equal affection and respect, as a dis
creet and prudent woman. Miss Grandison, by her
livelier manner, is not so well understood in those
lights as she ought to be ; and, satisfied with the
worthiness of her own heart, is above giving herself
concern about what the world thinks of it.
Lord L. is not handsome ; but he is very agree
able. He has the look of an honest good man ; and
of a man of understanding. And he is what he looks
to be. He is genteel, and has the air of a true Bri
tish nobleman ; one of those, I imagine, who would
have been respected by his appearance and manners,
in the purest times, a hundred or two years (or how
long ?) ago.
I am to have the family-history of this lord and
lady, on both sides, and of their loves, their dif
ficulties, and of the obligations they talk of being
under to their brother, to whom both my lord and
lady behave with love that carries the heart in every
word, in every look.
What, my dear, shall we say to this brother?
Does he lay every -body that knows him under obli
gation ? And is there no way to be even with him
EE 2
316 THE HISTORY OF
in any one thing ? I long to have some intimate con
versation with Miss Grandison, by which I shall
perhaps find out the art he has of making every-body
proud of acknowledging an inferiority to him.
I almost wish I could, while I stay in town, de
vote half my time to this amiable family ; without
breaking in upon them so much as to be thought
impertinent. The other half ought to be with my
kind cousin Reeves's. I never shall make them
amends for the trouble I have given them.
How I long for Wednesday, to see all the family
of the Grandisons — They are all to be there — On
several accounts I long for that day : yet this Sir
Hargrave —
I have written, my dear, as usual, very unreserv
edly. I know that I lie more open than ever to my
uncle's observations. But if he will not allow for
weakness of heart, of head, and for having been
frighted out of my wits and cruelly used ; and for
further apprehensions ; and for the sense I have of
obligations that never can be returned ; why then I
must lie wholly at his mercy — But if he should find
me to be ever so silly a creature, I hope he will not
make his particular conclusions general in disfavour
of the sex.
Adieu, my dear Lucy ! — And in you, adieu all
the dear and revered friends, benefactors, lovers, of
your
HARRIET BYRON.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 317
LETTER XL.
MRS. SELBY TO MISS HARRIET BYRON.
MY DEAREST HARRIET. Selby-house, February 25.
ALTHOUGH we have long ago taken a resolution,
never to dictate to your choice ; yet we could not
excuse ourselves, if we did not acquaint you with
any proposal that is made to us, on your account,
that you might encourage it, or otherwise, as you
thought fit.
The dowager Lady D. wrote me a letter some
time ago (as you will see by the date) : but insisted,
that I should keep the contents a secret in my own
bosom, till she gave me leave to reveal it. She has
now given me that leave, and requested that I will
propose the matter to you. I have since shewn
what has passed between her ladyship and me, to
your grandmamma, Mr. Selby, and Lucy. They
are all silent upon it ; for the same reasons, that I
give you not my opinion ; that is to say, till you ask
it.
But do we not see, my dearest child, that some-
thing has happened, within a very few days past,
that must distance the hope of every one of your
admirers, as they come to be acquainted with the
circumstances and situation you are now in ? My
dear love, you will never be able to resist the im
pulses of that gratitude which always opened and
expanded your worthy heart.
Your uncle's tenderness for you, on such a pro
spect, has made him suppress his inclination to rally
you. He professes to pity you, my dear. While,
says he, the sweet girl was vaunting herself, and
refusing this man ; and dismissing that • and irriagin^
ing herself out of the reach of the deity, to which,
E E 3
S18 fttfi HISTORY 01?
sooner or later, all women bow; I spared her not :
but now, that I see she is likely to be over head and
ears in the passion, and has so much to be said for
her excuse if she is caught ; and as our side must
perhaps be the hoping side, the gentleman's the
triumphant ; I pity her too much for what may be
the case, to teaze her with my animadversions ; es
pecially after what she has suffered from the vile
Sir Hargrave.
By several hints in your letters, it is impossible,
my dear, that we can be aforehand with your incli
nations. Young women in a beginning love are al
ways willing to conceal themselves from themselves ;
they are desirous to smother the fire, before they
will call out for help, till it blazes, and frequently
becomes too powerful to be extinguished by any
help. They will call the passion by another name ;
as, gratitude, suppose: but, my Harriet, gratitude so
properly founded as yours is can be but another
name for love. The object so worthy, your own
heart so worthy, consent of minds must bring it to
love on one side ; perhaps on both, if the half-
score of ladies you have heard of are all of them but
mere moderns. But that, my dear, is not to be sup
posed ; since worthy hearts find out, and assimilate
with, each other. Indeed, those ladies may be such
as are captivated with outward figure. A handsome
man need not to have the great qualities of a Sir
Charles Grandison, to engage the hearts of the ge
nerality of our sex. But a good man and a hand
some man, if he has the vivacity that distinguishes
Sir Charles, may marry whom he pleases. If we
women love a handsome man, for the sake of our
eye, we must be poor creatures indeed, if we love
not good men for the sake of our hearts.
"What makes us apprehensive for you, my Harriet,
is this : that we every one of us are in love ourselves
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 319
with this fine young gentleman. Your uncle has
fallen in with Mr. Dawson, an attorney of Notting
ham, who acts for Sir Charles in some of his affairs ;
and gives him such a character respecting his good
ness to his tenants and dependents only, as will
render credible all that even the fondest love, and
warmest gratitude, can say in his praise.
We can hardly tell sometimes how to regret
(though your accounts of your sufferings and danger
cut us to the heart as we read them) the base attempt
of Sir Hargrave : were all to end as we wish, we
should not regret it : but that, my Harriet, is our
fear. What will become of me, said your grand
mamma, if, at last, the darling of my heart should
be entangled in a hopeless passion ?
If this is likely to be the case, while the fire I
spoke of is but smothering, and while but here and
there a spark escapes your struggling efforts to keep
it down, resolve, my dear, to throw cold water on
it, and quench it quite. And how is this to be done,
but by changing your personal friendship with the
amiable family, into a correspondence by pen and
ink, and returning to our longing arms, before the
flame gets a-head ?
When you are with us, you may either give hope
to the worthy Orme, or encourage the proposal I
inclose, as you please.
As you are not capable of the mean pride of see
ing a number of men in your train, and have always
been uneasy at the perseverance of Mr.Fenwick and
Mr. Greville — As you have suffered so much from
the natural goodness of your heart, on the urgency
of that honest man Sir Rowland Meredith in his
nephew's favour ; and still more from the baseness
of that wicked Sir Hargrave — As your good cha
racter, and lovely person, engage you more and more
admirers — And, lastly, as it would be the highest
320 THE HISTORY Off
comfort that your grandmamma and your uncle, and
I, and all your friends and well-wishers, could know,
to see you happily married — We cannot but wish for
this pleasure and satisfaction ; the sooner you give
it to us, the better.
But could there be any hope— You know what I
mean — A royal diadem, my dear, would be a de
spicable thing in the comparison.
Adieu, my best love. You are called upon, in
my opinion, to a greater trial than ever yet you
knew, of that prudence for which you have hitherto
been so much applauded by every one, and parti
cularly by
Your truly maternal
MARIANNA SELBY.
LETTER XLI.
FROM THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF D. TO MRS.
SELBY.
[Inclosed in the preceding].
January 23.
GIVE me leave, madam, to address myself to you,
though personally unknown, on a very particular
occasion ; and, at the same time, to beg of you to
keep secret, even from Mr. Selby, and the party to
be named as still more immediately concerned in the
subject, till I give my consent ; as no one creature
of my family, not even my son, does, or shall know
from me till you approve of it.
My lord has just entered into his twenty-fifth
year. There are not many better young men among
the nobility. His minority gave an opportunity to
me, and his other trustees, to put him in possession,
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOM. 321
when he came of age, of a very noble and clear es
tate ; which he has not impaired. His person is not
to be found fault with. He has learning, and is al
lowed to have good sense, which every learned man
has not. His conduct, his discretion, in his travels,
procured him respect and reputation abroad. You
may make enquiry privately of all these matters.
We are, you must believe, very solicitous to have
him happily married. He is far from being an undu-
tiful son. Indeed he was always dutiful. A dutiful
son gives very promising hopes of making a good
husband. He assures me that his affections are dis
engaged, and that he will pay the most particular
regard to my recommendation.
I have cast about for a suitable wife for him. I
look farther than to the person of a woman ; though
my lord will by no means have beauty left out in
the qualifications of a wife. I look to the family to
whom a lady owes her education and training up.
Quality, however, I stand not upon. A man of qua
lity, you know, confers quality on his wife. An
ancient and good gentleman's family is all I am so
licitous about in this respect. In this light, yours,
madam, on all sides, and for many descents, is un
exceptionable. I have a desire, if all things shall be
found to be mutually agreeable, to be related to it :
and your character, as the young lady has been
brought up under your eye, is a great inducement
with me.
Your niece Byron's beauty, and merits, as well
as sweetness of temper, are talked of by every-body.
Not a day passes, but we hear of her to her great
advantage. Now, madam, will you be pleased to an
swer me one question, with that explicitness which
the importance of the case, and my own intended
explicitness to you, may require from woman to wo
man ? Especially, as I ask it of you in confidence*
322 THE HISTORY OF
Are then Miss Byron's affections absolutely dis
engaged ? We are very nice, and must not doubt
in this matter.
This is the only question J will ask at present. If
this can be answered as I wish, others, in a treaty
of this important nature, will come into considera
tion on both sides.
The favour of a line as soon as it will suit your
Convenience, will oblige, madam,
Your most faithful and obedient servant,
M.D.
LETTER XLII.
MRS. SELBY TO THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF D.
MADAM, January 27.
I AM greatly obliged to your ladyship for your good
opinion of me, and for the honour you do me, and
all our family, in the proposed alliance.
I will answer your ladyship's question with the
requisite explicitness.
Mr. Greville, Mr. Orme, and Mr. Fenwick, all
of this county, have respectively made application
to us for our interest, and to Miss Byron for her fa
vour : but hitherto without effect ; though the terms
each proposes might intitle him to consideration.
Miss Byron professes to honour the married state,
and one day proposes to make some man happy in
it, if it be not his own fault : but declares, that she
has not yet seen the man to whom with her hand
she can give her heart.
In truth, madam, we are all neutral on this occa
sion. We have the highest opinion of her discre
tion. She has read, she has conversed ; and yet there
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 323.
is not in the county one who would make a more
prudent manager in a family. We are all fond of her
even to doting. Were she not our child, we should
love her for her good qualities, and sweetness of
manners, and a frankness that has few examples
among young women.
Permit me, madam, to add one thing ; about which
Miss Byron, in her turn, will be very nice. Your
ladyship is pleased to say, that my lord's affections
are disengaged. Were his lordship a prince, and
hoped to succeed with her, they must not be so,
after he had seen and conversed with her. Yet the
future happiness, and not pride, would be the consi
deration with her : for she has that diffidence in her
own merits, from which the worthy of both sexes
cannot be totally free. This diffidence would in
crease too much for her happiness, were she to be
thought of with indifference by any man on earth,
who hoped to be more than indifferent to he.r.
As to other questions, which, as this is answered,
your ladyship thinks may come to be asked. I
choose un -asked (having no reserves) to acquaint
your ladyship that Miss Byron has not, in her own
power, quite 15,0001. She has, it is true, reversion
ary expectations : but we none of us wish that they
should for many years take place ; since that must
be by the death of Mrs. Shirley, her grandmother,
who is equally revered and beloved by all that know
her : and whose life is bound up in the happiness
of her grand-daughter.
I will strictly obey your ladyship in the secrecy
enjoined ; and am, madam,
Your ladyship's obliged and faithful humble servant,
MARIANNA SELBY.
324; THE HISTORY OF
LETTER XLIII.
FROM THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF D. TO MRS.
SELBY.
February 23.
I SHOULD sooner have answered yours, had I not
waited for the return of my son, who had taken a
little journey into Wales, to look into the condition
of a small estate he has there, which he finds capable
of great improvement; and about which he has
given proper orders.
I took the first opportunity to question him in re
lation to his inclinations to marriage, and whether he
had a regard to any particular woman : and having
received an answer to my wishes, I mentioned Miss
Byron to him, as a young lady that I should think,
from the general good character she bore, would
make him an excellent wife.
He said, he had heard her much talked of, and
always to her advantage. I then shewed him, as in
confidence, my letter, and your answer. There can
be, said I, (on purpose to try him) but one objection
on your part; and that is fortune: 15,0001. to a noble
man, who is possessed of 12,0001. a year, and has
been offered four times the portion, may be thought
very inadequate. The less to be stood upon, replied
he, where the fortune on my side is so considerable.
The very answer, my dear Mrs. Selby, that I wished
him to make.
I asked him, if I should begin a formal treaty with
you, upon what he said. He answered, that he had
heard from every mouth, so much said in praise of
Miss Byron's mind, as well as person, that he desired
I would ; and that I would directly endeavour to
obtain leave for him to visit the young lady.
5
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 325
I propose it accordingly. I understand, that she
is at present in London. I leave it to your choice,
madam, and Mrs. Shirley's, and Mr. Selby's (to
whom now, as also to Miss Byron, you will be so
good as to communicate the affair) whether you will
send for her down to receive my lord's visit and
mine ; or whether we shall wait on her in town.
I propose very high satisfaction to myself, if the
young people approve of each other, in an alliance so
much to my wishes in every respect. 1 shall love
the Countess of D. as well as any of you can do
Miss Byron : and as she has not at present a mother,
I shall with pleasure supply that tender relation to
her, for the sake of so many engaging qualities, as
common fame, as well as good Mrs. Selby, says she
is mistress of.
You will dispatch an answer as to the interview.
I am impatient for it. I depend much upon the
frankness of the young lady, which you make a part
of her agreeable character. And am, madam,
Your affectionate and faithful humble servant,
M. D.
LETTER XLIV.
MISS BYRON TO MRS. SELBY.
\
London, February 28.
INDEED, my dear and ever indulgent aunt Selby,
you have given me pain ; and yet I am very ungrate
ful, I believe, to say so : but if I feel the pain (though
perhaps I ought not) should I not own it ?
What circumstances, what situation, am I in, ma
dam, that I cannot be mistress of myself ? That shall
turn my uncle's half-feared, though always agreea
ble, raillery into pity for me?
VOL. i. 2 F
326 THE HISTORY OF
" Over head and ears in the passion" — < I to be
on the hoping side ; the gentleman on the trium
phant" — " It is impossible for you, my friends, to be
aforehand with my inclinations" — " A beginning
love to be mentioned, in which one is willing to
conceal one's self from one's self!" Fires, Jlames,
blazes, to follow ! — Gratitude &nd love to be spoken of
as synonymous terms — Ah! my dear aunt, how could
you let my uncle write such a letter, and then copy
it, and send it to me as yours ?
And yet some very tender strokes are in it, that
no man, that hardly any-body but you among women,
could write.
But what do you do, madam, when you tell your
Harriet of your own prepossessions in favour of a
man who, as you thought, had before in my eye too
many advantages ? indeed you should have taken
care not to let me know, that his great qualities had
impressed you all so deeply : and my grandmamma
to be so very apprehensive too for the entangled girl!
Hopeless passion, said she? Entangled in a hopeless
passion ! O let me die before this shall be deserved
to be said of your Harriet !
Then again rises to your pen, smothering and
escaped sparks; and I am desired to hurry myself to get
cold water to quench the flame — Dear, dear madam,
what images are here ? And applied — To whom ? —
And by whom ? — Have I written any-thing so very
blazing ? — Surely I have not. But you should not
say you will all forgive me, if this be my sad situa
tion. You should not say, how much you are your
selves, all of you, in love with this excellent man ; and
talk of Mr. Dawson, and of what he says of him :
but you should have told me, that if I suffer my gra
titude to grow into love, you will never forgive me ;
then should I have had a call of duty to check or
controul a passion, that you were afraid could not be
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 327
Well, and there is no way left for me, it seems,
but to fly for it ! To hurry away to Northampton
shire, and either to begin a new treaty with Lord D.
or to give hope to an old lover. Poor Harriet
Byron ! And is it indeed so bad with thee ? And does
thy aunt Selby think it is ?
But is there no hope that the man will take pity
of thee ? When he sees thee so sadly entangled, will
he not vouchsafe to lend an extricating hand ?
Oh, no — Too much obliged, as thou already art,
how canst thou expect to be farther obliged? Oblig
ed in the highest degree ?
But let me try if I cannot play round this bright,
this beamy taper, without singeing my wings ! I fancy
it is not yet quite so bad with me! At least, let me
stand this one visit of to-morrow : and then if I find
reason to think I cannot stand it, I will take the kind
advice, and fly for it ; rather than add another hope
less girl to the half-score that perhaps have been
long sighing for this best of men.
But even then, my aunt, that is to say, were I to
fly, and take shelter under your protecting wings, I
shall not, I hope, think it absolutely necessary to light
up one flame, in order to extinguish another. I shall
always value Mr. Orme as a friend ; but indeed I am
less than ever inclined to think of him in a nearer light.
As to Lady D.'s proposal, it admits not with me
of half a thought. You know, my dearest aunt, that
I am not yet rejected by one with whom you are all
in love — But this seriously I will own (and yet I hope
nothing but my gratitude is engaged, and that indeed
is a very powerful tie) that since I have seen and
known Sir Charles Grandison, I have not only (as
before) an indifference, but a dislike, to all other men.
And I think, 'if I know my own heart, I had rather
converse but an hour in a week with him, and with
2r 2
328 THE HISTORY OF
Miss Grandison, than be the wife of any man I have
ever seen or known.
If this should end at last in love, and if I should
be entangled in a hopeless passion, the object of it
would be Sir Charles Grandison : he could not insult
me ; and mean, as the word .pity in some cases
sounds, I had rather have his pity, than the love of
any other man.
You will, upon the strength of what I have said,
be so good, dear madam, as to let the Countess of
D. know, that I think myself highly obliged to her,
for her favourable opinion of me : that she has by it
interested all my good wishes in her son's happi
ness ; and that I was always of opinion, that equality
of fortune and degree, though not absolutely neces
sary to matrimonial felicity, was however a circum
stance not to be slighted : but you, madam, can put
my meaning in better, in fitter words, when you are
assured, that it is my meaning, to give an absolute,
though grateful, negative to this proposal. And I
do assure you that such is my meaning ; and that I
should despise myself, were I capable of keeping one
man in suspense, even had I hope of your hope,
while I was balancing in favour of another.
I believe, madam, I have been a little petulant,
and very saucy, in what I have written : but my heart
is not at ease : and I am vexed with these men, one
after another, when Sir Hargrave has given me a
surfeit of them ; and only that the bad has brought
me into the knowledge of the best, or I could resolve
never more to hear a man talk to me, no not for one mo
ment, upon a subject, that is become so justly painful
to one whenever tookpleasure in their airy adulation:
I know you will, with your usual goodness, and so
will my grandmamma, and so will my uncle Selby,
pardon all the imperfections of, dearest madam,
Your and their ever dutiful
HARRIET BYRON.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISOJf. Sf29
LETTER XLV.
MISS BYRON TO MISS SELBY.
Tuesday evening, February 28. *
MR. REEVES, my dear, is just returned from a visit
he made in St. James's Square. 1 transcribe a paper
giving an account of what passed between Mr.
Bagenhall and Sir Charles in relation to the shock
ing affair which has filled me with so much appre
hension ; and which Sir Charles, at my cousin's re
quest, allowed him to put in his pocket.
Mr. Bagenhall came to Sir Charles yesterday
evening with a message from Sir Hargrave, demand
ing a meeting with him, the next morning, at a par
ticular hour, at Kensington Gravel-pits. Sir Charles
took Mr. Bagenhall with him into his study ; and,
asking him to sit down, Mr. Bagenhall said,, That he
was once concerned in an affair of this nature, which
had been very much misrepresented afterwards ; and
that he had been advised to take a step which Sir
Charles might think extraordinary : which was, that
he had brought with him a young gentleman, whom
he hoped, for Sir Hargrave's satisfaction, as well as
to do justice to what should pass between them, Sir
Charles would permit to take minutes of their con
versation ; and that he was in the hall.
Let not a gentleman be left in the hall, said Sir
Charles ; and, ringing, directed him to be shewn into
the study to them. Yet, Mr. Bagenhall, said he, I
see no occasion for this. Our conversation on the
subject you come to talk of, can be but short.
Were it to hold but two minutes, Sir Charles —
What you please, Mr. Bagenhall.
The young gentleman entered ; and pen and ink
were set before him. He wrote in short hand : and
2 F3
330 THE HISTORY OF
read it to the gentlemen ; and Sir Charles, as it was
to be transcribed for Sir Hargrave, desiring a cop*'
of it, it was sent him the same night.
A CONFEREJiCE BETWEEN SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, BART.
AND JAMES BAGENHALL, ESQ.
Sir Ch. You have told me, Mr. Bagenhall, Sir
Hargrave's demand. Have you seen, Sir, the an
swer I returned to his letter ?
Mr. Bagenhall. I have, Sir.
Sir Ch. And do you think, there needs any other,
or further ?
Mr. B. It is not, Sir Charles, such an answer as
a gentleman can sit down with.
Sir Ch. Do you give that as your own opinion, Mr.
Bagenhall ? Or, as Sir Hargrave's ?
Mr. B. As Sir Hargrave's, Sir. And I believe it
would be the opinion of every man of honour.
Sir Ch. Man of honour! Mr. Bagenhall. A man
of honour would not have given the occasion which
has brought you and me, Sir, into a personal know
ledge of each other. I asked the question, supposing
there could be but one principal in this debate.
Mr.B. I beg pardon: I meant not that there should
be two.
Sir Ch. Pray, Sir, let me ask you, Do you know
the particulars of Sir Hargrave's attempt, and of his
violence to the lady ?
Mr. B. Sir Hargrave, I believe, has given me a
very exact account of every-thing. He meant not
dishonour to the lady.
Sir Ch. He must have a very high opinion of him
self, if he thought the best he could do for her, would
be to do her honour — Sir, pray put that down. —
Repeating what he said to the writer, that he might
not mistake.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 331
Sir Ch. But do you, Mr. Bagenhall, think Sir
Hargrave was justifiable, as a man of honour, in
what he did ?
Mr. B. I mean not, as I told you, Sir Charles, to
make myself a principal in this affair. I pretend not
to justify what Sir Hargrave did to the lady.
Sir Ch. I hope then you will allow me to refer to
my answer to Sir Hargrave's letter. I shall send
him no other. I beg your pardon, Mr. Bagenhall, I
mean not a disrespect to you.
Mr. B. No other, Sir Charles?
Sir Ch. Since he is to see what this gentleman
writes, pray put down, Sir, that I say, The answer
I have written, is such a one as he ought to be satis
fied with : such a one as becomes a man of honour
to send, if he thought fit to send any : and such a one
as a man who has acted as Sir Hargrave acted by a
woman of virtue and honour, ought to be thankful
for. — Have you written that, Sir ?
Writer. I have, Sir.
Sir Ch. Write further, if you please ; That I say,
Sir Hargrave may be very glad, if he hear no
more of this affair from the lady's natural friends :
that, however, I shall rid him of all apprehensions
of that nature ; for that I still consider the lady as
under my protection, with regard to any conse
quences that may naturally follow what happened
on Hounslow-heath ; That I say, I shall neglect no
proper call to protect her farther : but that his call
upon me to meet him, must be such a one as my own
heart can justify ; and that it is not my way to obey
the insolent summons of any man breathing. — And
yet, what is this, Mr. Bagenhall, but repeating what
I wrote ?
Mr. B. You are warm, Sir Charles.
Sir Ch. Indeed I am not : I am only earnest. As
332 THE HISTORY OF
Sir Hargrave is to be shewn what passes, I say
more than otherwise I should choose to say.
Mr. B. Will you name your own time and place,
Sir Charles?
Sir Ch. To do what?
Mr. B. To meet Sir Hargrave.
Sir Ch. To do him good — To do good to my bit
terest enemy, I would meet him, Let him know,
that I wrote a very long letter, because I would dis
charge my mind of all that I thought necessary to
say on the occasion. 4
Mr. B. And you have no other answer to return ?
Sir Ch. Only this — Let Sir Hargrave engage him
self in a like unworthy enterprize; and let the lady,
as this did, claim my protection ; and I will endea
vour to give it to her, although Sir Hargrave were
surrounded by as many men armed, as he has in his
service ; that is to say, if a legal redress were not at
hand : if it were, I hold it not to be a point of bravery
to insult magistracy, and to take upon myself to be
my own judge; and, as it might happen, another
man's executioner.
Mr. B. This is nobly said, Sir Charles : but still
Sir Hargrave had not injured 1/021, he says. And as
I had heard you were a man of an excellent charac
ter, and know Sir Hargrave to be a man of courage,
I took it into my head, for the prevention of mis
chief, to make a proposal in writing to the lady,
whom Sir Hargrave loves as his own soul ; and if she
had come into it —
Sir Ch. A strange proposal, Mr. Bagenhall. Could
you expect any-thing from it ?
Mr.B. Why not, Sir Charles? She is disengaged,
it seems. 1 presume, Sir, you do not intend to make
court to her yourself ?
Sir Ch. We are insensibly got into a parley, upon
a subject that will not bear it, Mr. Bagenhall. Tell
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 333
Sir Hargrave — or, write it down from my lips, Sir
(speaking to the writer) that I wish him to take
time to enquire after my character, and after my
motives in refusing to meet him on the terms he ex
pects me to see him. Tell him, that I have, before
now, shewn an insolent man, that I may be provoked:
but that, when I have been so, I have had the hap
piness to chastise such a one without murdering
him, and without giving any advantage over my "own
life, to his single arm.
Mr. B. This is great talking, Sir Charles.
Sir Ch. It is, Mr. Bagenhall. And I should be
sorry to have been put upon it, were I not in hope,
that it may lead Sir Hargrave to such enquiries as
may be for his service as much as for mine.
Mr. B. I wish, that two such spirits were better
acquainted with each other, or that Sir Hargrave
had not suffered so much as he has done, both in
person and mind.
Sir Ch. What does all this tend to, Mr. Bagenhall?
I look upon you as a gentleman ; and the more, for
having s*id, you were solicitous to prevent further
mischief, or I should not have said so much to so little
purpose. And once more, I must refer to my letter.
Mr. B. 1 own I admire you for your spirit, Sir.
But it is amazing to me, that a man of such spirit
can refuse to a gentleman the satisfaction which is
demanded of him.
Sir Ch. It is owing to my having some spirit, that
I can, fearless of consequences, refuse what you call
satisfaction to Sir Hargrave, and yet be fearless of
insult upon my refusal. I consider myself as a mor
tal man : I can die but once : once I must die : and
if the cause be such as will justify me to my own
heart, I, for my own sake, care not whether my life
be demanded of me to-morrow, or forty years
hence : but, Sir (speaking to the writer) let not
334? THE HISTORY OF
this, that I have now said, be transcribed from your
notes : it may to Sir Hargrave sound ostentatiously.
I want not, that any-thing should be read or shewn
to him, that would appear like giving consequence
to myself, except for Sir Hargrave's own sake.
Mr. B. I beg, that it may not be spared. If you
are capable of acting as you speak ; by what I have
heard of you. in the affair on Hounslow-heath ; arid
by what 1 have heardyrow you in this conversation ;
and see of you ; I think you a wonder of a man, and
should be glad it were in my power to reconcile you
to each other.
Sir Ch. I could not hold friendship, Mr. Bagen-
hall, with a man that has been capable of acting as
Sir Hargrave has acted, by an innocent and helpless
young lady. But I will name the terms on which I
can take by the hand, wherever I meet him, a man
to whom I can have no malice : these are they, That
he lay at the door of mad and violent passion the il
legal attempt he made on the best of women : that
he express his sorrow for it ; and, on his knees, if he
pleases (it is no disgrace to the proudest man to
kneel to an injured lady) beg her pardon ; and con
fess her clemency to be greater than he deserves, if
she give it.
Mr. B. Good God !— Shall that be transcribed,
Sir Charles?
Sir Ch. By all means : and if Sir Hargrave is a
man that has in his heart the least spark of true
magnanimity, he will gladly embrace the opportunity
of acting accordingly : and put down, Sir, that sor
row, that contrition, is all the atonement that can
be made for a perpetrated evil.
A faithful narrative. HENRY COTES.
SIR CHARLES GRANDISON. 335
February 27.
Does not your heart glow, my Lucy, now you
have read (as 1 suppose you have) this paper? And
do not the countenances of every one of my revered
friends round you [pray look !] shine with admira
tion of this excellent man ? And yet you all loved
him before : and so you think I did. Well, I can't
help your thoughts ! — But I hope I shall not be un
done by a good man !
You will imagine, that my heart was a little agi
tated, when I came to read Mr. Bagenhall's question,
Whether Sir Charles intended to make court to me
himself? I am sorry to tell you, Lucy, that I was a
little more affected than I wished to be. Indeed, I
shall keep a look-out, as you call it, upon myself.
To say truth, I laid down the paper at that place,
and was afraid to read the answer made to it. When
I took it up, and read what followed, I might have
spared, I saw, my foolish little tremors. See how
frank I continue to be : but if you come not to this
paragraph before you are aware, you need not read
it to my uncle.
Mr. Bagenhall went away so much pleased with
Sir Charles (as he owned) that Mr. Reeves en
courages me to hope, some way may be found to
prevent further mischief. Yet the condition, which
Sir Charles has proposed for my forgiving the
wretch — Upon my word, my dear, I desire not to
see Sir Hargrave either upon his knees, or upon his
feet : I am sure I could not see him without very
violent emotions. His barbarity, his malice, his
cruelty, have impressed me strongly : nor can I be
glad to see the wretch with his disfigured mouth and
lip. His lip, it seems, has been sewed up, and he
wears a great black-silk patch upon the place.
I can't find that Sir Charles has heard from the
336 THE HISTORY, &C.
exasperated man, since Mr. Bagenhall left him yes
terday.
I hope nothing will happen to overcloud to-mor
row. I propose to myself as happy a day, as, in the
present situation of things, can be given to your
HARRIET BYRON.
OF VOL. I.
C. Baldwin, Printer,
New Bridge-Street, London.
w.
Richardson, Samuel
3664 The history of Sir Charles
S55 Grandison A new ed.
1823
v.l
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