The History of Sir Charles Grandison Part 16

Sir Charles Grandison came to town last night. He was so polite as to send to inquire after my health; and to let Mr. Reeves know, that he would do himself the honour, as he called it, of breakfasting with him this morning. Very ceremonious either for his own sake or for mine-- Perhaps for both.

So I am in expectation of seeing within this half-hour, the n.o.ble Clementina's future--Ah Lucy!

The compliment, you see, is to Mr. Reeves--Shall I stay above, and see if he will ask for me? He owes me something for the emotion he gave me in Lord L----'s library. Very little of him since have I seen.

'Honour forbids me,' said he, then: 'Yet honour bids me.--But I cannot be ungenerous, selfish.'--These words are still in my ear.--What could he mean by them?--Honour forbids me--What! to explain himself? He had been telling me a tender tale: he had ended it. What did honour forbid him to do?--Yet honour bids me! Why then did he not follow the dictates of honour?

But I cannot be unjust:--To Clementina he means. Who wished him to be so?--Unjust! I hope not. It is a diminution to your glory, Sir Charles Grandison, to have the word unjust, in this way of speaking, in your thoughts! As if a good man had lain under a temptation to be unjust; and had but just recollected himself.

'I cannot be ungenerous.' To the n.o.ble lady, I suppose? He must take compa.s.sion on her. And did he think himself under an obligation to my forwardness to make this declaration to me, as to one who wished him to be ungenerous to such a lady for my sake!--I cannot bear the thought of this. Is it not as if he had said, 'Fond Harriet, I see what you expect from me--But I must have compa.s.sion for, I cannot be ungenerous to, Clementina!'--But, what a poor word is compa.s.sion! n.o.ble Clementina! I grieve for you, though the man be indeed a generous man!--O defend me, my better genius, from wanting the compa.s.sion even of a Sir Charles Grandison!

But what means he by the word selfis.h.!.+ He cannot be selfis.h.!.+--I comprehend not the meaning of this word--Clementina has a very high fortune--Harriet but a very middling one. He cannot be unjust, ungenerous to Clementina--Nor yet selfish--This word confounds me, from a man that says nothing at random!

Well, but breakfast-time is come, while I am busy in self-debatings. I will go down, that I may not seem to affect parade. I will endeavour to see with indifference, him that we have all been admiring and studying for this last fortnight, in such a variety of lights. The christian: the hero: the friend:--Ah, Lucy! the lover of Clementina: the generous kinsman of Lord W----: the modest and delicate benefactor of the Mansfields: the free, gay, raillier of Lady Beauchamp; and, in her, of all our s.e.x's foibles!

But he is come! While I am prating to you with my pen, he is come--Why, Lucy, would you detain me?--Now must the fool go down in a kind of hurry: Yet stay till she is sent for.--And that is now.

LETTER XI

MISS BYRON.--IN CONTINUATION

O Lucy, I have such a conversation to relate to you!--But let me lead to it.

Sir Charles met me at the opening of the door. He was all himself. Such an unaffected modesty and politeness; yet such an ease and freedom!

I thought, by his address, that he would have taken my hand; and both hands were so emulatively pa.s.sive--How does he manage it to be so free in a first address, yet so respectful, that a princess could not blame him!

After breakfast, my cousins being sent for out to attend Sir John Allestree and his Niece, Sir Charles and I were left alone: and then, with an air equally solemn and free, he addressed himself to me.

The last time I had the honour of being alone with my good Miss Byron, I told her a very tender tale. I was sure it would raise in such a heart as hers generous compa.s.sion for the n.o.blest lady on the continent; and I presumed, as my difficulties were not owing either to rashness or indiscretion, that she would also pity the relater.

The story did indeed affect you; yet, for my own sake, as well as yours, I referred you to Dr. Bartlett, for the particulars of some parts of it, upon which I could not expatiate.

The doctor, madam, has let me know the particulars which he communicated to you. I remember with pain the pain I gave to your generous heart in Lord L----'s study. I am sure you must have suffered still more from the same compa.s.sionate goodness on the communications he made you. May I, madam, however, add a few particulars to the same subject, which he then could not give you? Now you have been let into so considerable a part of my story, I am desirous to acquaint you, and that rather than any woman in the world, with all that I know myself of this arduous affair.

He ceased speaking. I was in tremors. Sir, sir--The story, I must own, is a most affecting one. How much is the unhappy lady to be pitied! You will do me honour in acquainting me with further particulars of it.

Dr. Bartlett has told you, madam, that the Bishop of Nocera, second brother to Lady Clementina, has very lately written to me, requesting that I will make one more visit to Bologna--I have the letter. You read Italian, madam. Shall I--Or will you--He held it to me.

I took it. These, Lucy, are the contents.

'The bishop acquaints him with the very melancholy way they are in. The father and mother declining in their healths. Signor Jeronymo worse than when Sir Charles left them. His sister also declining in her health: yet earnest still to see him.

'He says, that she is at present at Urbino; but is soon to go to Naples to the general's. He urges him to make them one visit more; yet owns, that his family are not unanimous in the request: but that he and Father Marescotti, and the marchioness, are extremely earnest that this indulgence should be granted to the wishes of his dear sister.

'He offers to meet him, at his own appointment, and conduct him to Bologna; where, he tells him, his presence will rejoice every heart, and procure an unanimous consent to the interview so much desired: and says, that if this measure, which he is sorry he has so long withstood, answers not his hopes, he will advise the shutting up of their Clementina in a nunnery, or to consign her to private hands, where she shall be treated kindly, but as persons in her unhappy circ.u.mstances are accustomed to be treated.'

Sir Charles then shewed me a letter from Signor Jeronymo; in which he acquaints him with the dangerous way he is in. He tells him, 'That his life is a burden to him. He wishes it was brought to its period. He does not think himself in skilful hands. He complains most of the wound which is in his hip-joint; and which has. .h.i.therto baffled the art both of the Italian and French surgeons who have been consulted. He wishes, that himself and Sir Charles had been of one country, he says, since the greatest felicity he now has to wish for, is to yield up his life to the Giver of it, in the arms of his Grandison.'

He mentions not one word in this melancholy letter of his unhappy sister: which Sir Charles accounted for, by supposing, that she not being at Bologna, they kept from him, in his deplorable way, everything relating to her, that was likely to disturb him. He then read part of a letter written in English, by the admired Mrs. Beaumont; some of the contents of which were, as you shall hear, extremely affecting.

'Mrs. Beaumont gives him in it an account of the situation of the unhappy young lady; and excuses herself for not having done it before, in answer to his request, by reason of an indisposition under which she had for some time laboured, which had hindered her from making the necessary inquiries.

'She mentions, that the lady had received no benefit from her journeyings from place to place; and from her voyage from Leghorn to Naples, and back again; and blames her attendants, who, to quiet her, unknown to their princ.i.p.als, for some time, kept her in expectation of seeing her Chevalier, at the end of each; for her more prudent Camilla, she says, had been hindered by illness from attending her, in several of the excursions.

'They had a second time, at her own request, put her into a nunnery. She at first was so sedate in it as gave them hopes: but the novelty going off, and one of the sisters, to try her, having officiously asked her to go with her into the parlour, where she said, she would be allowed to converse through the grate with a certain English gentleman, her impatience, on her disappointment, made her more ungovernable than they had ever known her; for she had been for two hours before meditating what she would say to him.

'For a week together, she was vehemently intent upon being allowed to visit England; and had engaged her cousins, Sebastiano and Juliano, to promise to escort her thither, if she could obtain leave.

'Her mother brought her off this when n.o.body else could, only by entreating her, for her sake, never to think of it more.

'The marchioness then, encouraged by this instance of her obedience, took her under her own care: but the young lady going on from flight to slight; and the way she was in visibly affecting the health of her indulgent mother; a doctor was found, who was absolutely of opinion, that nothing but harsh methods would avail: and in this advice Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana, and the general, concurring, she was told, that she must prepare to go to Milan. She was so earnest to be excused from going thither, and to be permitted to go to Florence to Mrs. Beaumont, that they gave way to her entreaties; and the marquis himself, accompanying her to Florence, prevailed on Mrs. Beaumont to take her under her care.

'With her she staid three weeks: she was tolerably sedate in that s.p.a.ce of time; but most so, when she was talking of England, and of the Chevalier Grandison, and his sisters, with whom she wished to be acquainted. She delighted to speak English, and to talk of the tenderness and goodness of her tutor; and of what he said to her, upon such and such a subject.

'At the three weeks end, the general made her a visit, in company of Lady Sforza; and her talk being all on this subject, they were both highly displeased; and hinted, that she was too much indulged in it; and, unhappily, she repeating some tender pa.s.sages that pa.s.sed in the interview her mother had permitted her to hold with the Chevalier, the general would have it, that Mr. Grandison had designedly, from the first, sought to give himself consequence with her; and expressed himself, on the occasion, with great violence against him.

'He carried his displeasure to extremity, and obliged her to go away with his aunt and him that very day, to her great regret; and as much to the regret of Mrs. Beaumont, and of the ladies her friends; who tenderly loved the innocent visionary, as sometimes they called her. And Mrs.

Beaumont is sure, that the gentle treatment she met with from them, would in time, though perhaps slowly, have greatly helped her.'

Mrs. Beaumont then gives an account of the harsh treatment the poor young lady met with.

Sir Charles Grandison would have stopt reading here. He said, he could not read it to me, without such a change of voice, as would add to my pain, as well as to his own.

Tears often stole down my cheeks, when I read the letters of the bishop and Signor Jeronymo, and as Sir Charles read a part of Mrs. Beaumont's letter: and I doubted not but what was to follow would make them flow.

Yet, I said, Be pleased, sir, to let me read on. I am not a stranger to distress. I can pity others, or I should not deserve pity myself.

He pointed to the place; and withdrew to the window.

Mrs. Beaumont says, 'That the poor mother was prevailed upon to resign her child wholly to the management of Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana, who took her with them to their palace in Milan.

'The tender parent, however, besought them to spare all unnecessary severity; which they promised: but Laurana objected to Camilla's attendance. She was thought too indulgent; and her servant Laura, as a more manageable person, was taken in her place.' And O how cruelly, as you shall hear, did they treat her!

Father Marescotti, being obliged to visit a dying relation at Milan, was desired by the marchioness to inform himself of the way her beloved daughter was in, and of the methods taken with her, Lady Laurana having, in her letters, boasted of both. The good Father acquainted Mrs.

Beaumont with the following particulars:

'He was surprised to find a difficulty made of his seeing the lady: but, insisting on it, he found her to be wholly spiritless, and in terror; afraid to speak, afraid to look, before her cousin Laurana; yet seeming to want to complain to him. He took notice of this to Laurana--O Father, said she, we are in the right way, I a.s.sure you: when we had her first, her chevalier, and an interview with him, were ever in her mouth; but now she is in such order, that she never speaks a word of him. But what, asked the compa.s.sionate Father, must she have suffered, to be brought to this?--Don't you, Father, trouble yourself about that, replied the cruel Laurana: the doctors have given their opinion, that some severity was necessary. It is all for her good.

'The poor lady expressed herself to him, with earnestness, after the veil; a subject on which, it seems, they indulged her; urging, that the only way to secure her health of mind, if it could be restored, was to yield to her wishes. Lady Sforza said, that it was not a point that she herself would press; but it was her opinion, that her family sinned in opposing a divine dedication; and, perhaps, their daughter's malady might be a judgment upon them for it.'

The father, in his letter to Mrs. Beaumont, ascribes to Lady Sforza self-interested motives for her conduct; to Laurana, envy, on account of Lady Clementina's superior qualities: but n.o.body, he says, till now, doubted Laurana's love of her.'

Father Marescotti then gives a shocking instance of the barbarous Laurana's treatment of the n.o.ble sufferer--All for her good--Wretch! how my heart rises against her! Her servant Laura, under pretence of confessing to her Bologna father, in tears, acquainted him with it. It was perpetrated but the day before.