The History of Sir Charles Grandison, Volume 4 (of 7)
And by that means, said Lady Gertrude, setting the silly creature at variance with all her friends, he makes her fight his battles for him; and become herself the cat's paw to help him to the ready roasted chesnuts.
But, dear brother, said Lady G–, do you think love is such a staid deliberate passion, as to allow a young creature to take time to ponder and weigh all the merits of the cause?
Love at first sight, answered Sir Charles, must indicate a mind prepared for impression, and a sudden gust of passion, and that of the least noble kind; since there could be no opportunity of knowing the merit of the object. What woman would have herself supposed capable of such a tindery fit? In a man, it is an indelicate paroxysm: but in a woman, who expects protection and instruction from a man, much more so. Love, at first, may be only fancy. Such a young love may be easily given up, and ought, to a parent's judgment. Nor is the conquest so difficult as some young creatures think it. One thing, my good Emily, let me say to you, as a rule of some consequence in the world you are just entering into—Young persons, on arduous occasions, especially in love-cases, should not presume to advise young persons; because they seldom can divest themselves of passion, partiality, or prejudice; that is, indeed, of youth; and forbear to mix their own concerns and biases with the question referred to them. It should not be put from young friend to young friend, What would you do in such a case? but, What ought to be done?
How the dear girl blushed, and how pleased she looked, to be particularly addressed by her guardian!
Lady Gertrude spoke of a certain father, who for interested views obliged his daughter to marry at fifteen, when she was not only indifferent to the man, but had formed no right notions of the state.
And are they not unhappy? asked Sir Charles.
They are, replied she.
I knew such an instance, returned he. The lady was handsome, and had her full share of vanity. She believed every man who said civil things to her, was in love with her; and had she been single, that he would have made his addresses to her. She supposed, that she might have had this great man, or that, had she not been precipitated: And this brought her to slight the man who had, as she concluded, deprived her of better offers. They were unhappy to the end of their lives. Had the lady lived single long enough to find out the difference between compliment and sincerity, and that the man who flattered her vanity, meant no more than to take advantage of her folly, she would have thought herself not unhappy with the very man with whom she was so dissatisfied.
Lady L– speaking afterwards of a certain nobleman, who is continually railing against matrimony, and who makes a very indifferent husband to an obliging wife: I have known more men than one, said Sir Charles, inveigh against matrimony, when the invective would have proceeded with a much better grace from their wives' lips than from theirs. But let us inquire, would this complainer have been, or deserved to be, happier in any state, than he now is?
A state of suffering, said Lady L–, had probably humbled the spirit of the poor wife into perfect meekness and patience.
You observe rightly, replied Sir Charles: And surely a most kind disposition of Providence it is, that adversity, so painful in itself, should conduce so peculiarly to the improvement of the human mind: It teaches modesty, humility, and compassion.
You speak feelingly brother, said Lady L–, with a sigh. Do you think, Lucy, nobody sighed but she?
I do, said he. I speak with a sense of gratitude: I am naturally of an imperious spirit: But I have reaped advantages, from the early stroke of a mother's death. Being for years, against my wishes, obliged to submit to a kind of exile from my native country, which I considered as a heavy evil, though I thought it my duty to acquiesce, I was determined, as much as my capacity would allow, to make my advantage of the compulsion, by qualifying myself to do credit, rather than discredit, to my father, my friends, and my country. And, let me add, that if I have in any tolerable manner succeeded, I owe much to the example and precepts of my dear Dr. Bartlett.
The doctor blushed and bowed, and was going to disclaim the merit which his patron had ascribed to him; but Sir Charles confirmed it in still stronger terms: You, my dear Dr. Bartlett, said he, as I have told Miss Byron, was a second conscience to me in my earlier youth: Your precepts, your excellent life, your pure manners, your sweetness of temper, could not but open and enlarge my mind. The soil, I hope I may say, was not barren; but you, my dear paternal friend, was the cultivator: I shall ever acknowledge it—And he bowed to the good man; who was covered with modest confusion, and could not look up.
And think you, Lucy, that this acknowledgment lessened the excellent man with any one present? No! It raised him in every eye: and I was the more pleased with it, as it helped me to account for that deep observation, which otherwise one should have been at a loss to account for, in so young a man. And yet I am convinced, that there is hardly a greater difference in intellect between angel and man, than there is between man and man.
LETTER XXIII
LADY G–, TO MISS BYRON THURSDAY, APRIL 13
For Heaven's sake, my dearest Harriet! dine with us to-day; for two reasons: one relates to myself; the other you shall hear by and by: To myself, first, as is most fit—This silly creature has offended me, and presumed to be sullen upon my resentment. Married but two days, and shew his airs!—Were I in fault, my dear, (which, upon my honour, I am not,) for the man to lose his patience with me, to forget his obligations to me, in two days!—What an ungrateful wretch is he! What a poor powerless creature your Charlotte!
Nobody knows of the matter, except he has complained to my brother—If he has! But what if he has?—Alas! my dear, I am married; and cannot help myself.
We seem, however, to be drawing up our forces on both sides.—One struggle for my dying liberty, my dear!—The success of one pitched battle will determine which is to be the general, which the subaltern, for the rest of the campaign. To dare to be sullen already!—As I hope to live, my dear, I was in high good humour within myself; and when he was foolish, only intended a little play with him; and he takes it in earnest. He worships you: so I shall rally him before you: but I charge you, as the man by his sullenness has taken upon him to fight his own battle, either to be on my side, or be silent. I shall take it very ill of my Harriet, if she strengthen his hands.
Well, but enough of this husband—HUSBAND! What a word!—Who do you think is arrived from abroad?—You cannot guess for your life—Lady OLIVIA!—True as you are alive! accompanied, it seems, by an aunt of hers; a widow, whose years and character are to keep the niece in countenance in this excursion. The pretence is, making the tour of Europe: and England was not to be left out of the scheme. My brother is excessively disturbed at her arrival. She came to town but last night. He had notice of it but this morning. He took Emily with him to visit her: Emily was known to her at Florence. She and her aunt are to be here at dinner. As she is come, Sir Charles says, he must bring her acquainted with his sisters, and their lords, in order to be at liberty to pursue the measures he has unalterably resolved upon: and this, Harriet, is my second reason for urging you to dine with us.
Now I do wish we had known her history at large. Dr. Bartlett shall tell it us. Unwelcome as she is to my brother, I long to see her. I hope I shall not hear something in her story, that will make me pity her.
Will you come?
I wonder whether she speaks English, or not. I don't think I can converse in Italian.
I won't forgive you, if you refuse to come.
Lady L– and her good man will be here. We shall therefore, if you come, be our whole family together.
My brother has presented this house to me, till his return. He calls himself Lord G–'s guest and mine: so you can have no punctilio about it. Besides, Lord W– will set out to-morrow morning for Windsor. He dotes upon you: and perhaps it is in your power to make a new-married man penitent and polite.
So you must come.
Hang me, if I sign by any other name, while this man is in fits, than that of
CHARLOTTE GRANDISON.
LETTER XXIV
MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY THURSDAY, APRIL 13
I send you enclosed a letter I received this morning from Lady G–. I will suppose you have read it.
Emily says, that the meeting between Sir Charles and the lady mentioned in it, was very polite on both sides: but more cold on his than on hers. She made some difficulty, however, of dining at his house; and her aunt, Lady Maffei, more. But on Sir Charles's telling them, that he would bring his elder sister to attend them thither, they complied.
When I went to St. James's-square, Sir Charles and Lady L– were gone in his coach to bring the two ladies.
Lady G– met me on the stairs-head, leading into her dressing-room. Not a word, said she, of the man's sullens: He repents: A fine figure, as I told him, of a bridegroom, would he make in the eyes of foreign ladies, at dinner, were he to retain his gloomy airs. He has begged my pardon; as good as promised amendment; and I have forgiven him.
Poor Lord G–, said I.
Hush, hush! He is within: he will hear you: and then perhaps repent of his repentance.
She led me in: my lord had a glow in his cheeks, and looked as if he had been nettled; and was but just recovering a smile, to help to carry off the petulance. O how saucily did her eyes look! Well, my lord, said she, I hope—But you say, I misunderstood—No more, madam, no more, I beseech you—
Well, sir, not a word more, since you are—
Pray, madam—
Well, well, give me your hand—You must leave Harriet and me together.
She humorously courtesied to him as he bowed to me, taking the compliment as to herself. She nodded her head to him, as he turned back his when he was at the door; and when he was gone, If I can but make this man orderly, said she, I shall not quarrel with my brother for hurrying me, as he has done.
You are wrong, excessively wrong, Charlotte: you call my lord a silly man, but can have no proof that he is so, but by his bearing this treatment from you.
None of your grave airs, my dear. The man is a good sort of man, and will be so, if you and Lady L– don't spoil him. I have a vast deal of roguery, but no ill-nature, in my heart. There is luxury in jesting with a solemn man, who wants to assume airs of privilege, and thinks he has a right to be impertinent. I'll tell you how I will manage—I believe I shall often try his patience, and when I am conscious that I have gone too far, I will be patient if he is angry with me; so we shall be quits. Then I'll begin again: he will resent: and if I find his aspect very solemn—Come, come, no glouting, friend, I will say, and perhaps smile in his face: I'll play you a tune, or sing you a song—Which, which! Speak in a moment, or the humour will be off.
If he was ready to cry before, he will laugh then, though against his will: and as he admires my finger, and my voice, shall we not be instantly friends?
It signified nothing to rave at her: she will have her way. Poor Lord G–! At my first knowledge of her, I thought her very lively; but imagined not that she was indiscreetly so.
Lord G–'s fondness for his saucy bride was, as I have reason to believe, his fault: I dared not to ask for particulars of their quarrel: and if I had, and found it so, could not, with such a rallying creature, have entered into his defence, or censured her.
I went down a few moments before her. Lord G– whispered me, that he should be the happiest man in the world, if I, who had such an influence over her, would stand his friend.
I hope, my lord, said I, that you will not want any influence but your own. She has a thousand good qualities. She has charming spirits. You will have nothing to bear with but from them. They will not last always. Think only, that she can mean nothing by the exertion of them, but innocent gaiety; and she will every day love your lordship the better for bearing with her. You know she is generous and noble.
I see, madam, said he, she has let you into—
She has not acquainted me with the particulars of the little misunderstanding; only has said, that there had been a slight one; which was quite made up.
I am ashamed, replied he, to have it thought by Miss Byron, that there could have been a misunderstanding between us, especially so early. She knows her power over me. I am afraid she despises me.
Impossible, my lord! Have you not observed, that she spares nobody when she is in a lively humour?
True—But here she comes!—Not a word, madam!—I bowed assenting silence. Lord G– said, she, approaching him, in a low voice, I shall be jealous of your conversations with Miss Byron.
Would to heaven, my dearest life! snatching at her withdrawn hand, that—
I were half as good as Miss Byron: I understand you: but time and patience, sir; nodding to him, and passing him.
Admirable creature! said he, how I adore her!
I hinted to her afterwards, his fear of her despising him. Harriet, answered she, with a serious air, I will do my duty by him. I will abhor my own heart, if I ever find in it the shadow of a regard for any man in the world, inconsistent with that which he has a right to expect from me.
I was pleased with her. And found an opportunity to communicate what she said, in confidence, to my lord; and had his blessings for it.
But now for some account of Lady Olivia. With which I will begin a new letter.
LETTER XXV
MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION
Sir Charles returned with the ladies. He presented to Lady Olivia and her aunt, Lady G–, Lord L–, and Lord W–. I was in another apartment talking with Dr. Bartlett. Lady Olivia asked for the doctor. He left me to pay his respects to her.
Sir Charles being informed, that I was in the house, told Lady Olivia, that he hoped he should have the honour of presenting to her one of our English beauties; desiring Lady G– to request my company.
Lady G– came to me—A lovely woman, I assure you, Harriet; let me lead you to her.
Sir Charles met me at the entrance of the drawing-room: Excuse me, madam, said he, taking my hand, with profound respect, and allow me to introduce to a very amiable Italian lady, one who does so much honour to Britain.– Miss Byron, madam, addressing himself to her, salutes you. The advantages of person are her least perfection.
Her face glowed. Miss Byron, said she, in French, is all loveliness. A relation, sir? in Italian.
He bowed; but answered not her question.
I would sooner forgive you here, whispered Lady Olivia to Sir Charles, in Italian, looking at me, than at Bologna.
I heard her; and by my confusion shewed that I understood her. She was in confusion too.
Mademoiselle, said she, in French, understands Italian.—I am ashamed, monsieur.
Miss Byron does, answered Sir Charles; and French too.
I must have the honour, said she in French, to be better known to you, mademoiselle.
I answered her as politely as I could in the same language.
Lady OLIVIA is really a lovely woman. Her complexion is fine. Her face oval. Every feature of it is delicate. Her hair is black; and, I think, I never saw brighter black eyes in my life: if possible, they are brighter, and shine with a more piercing lustre, than even Sir Charles Grandison's: but yet I give his the preference; for we see in them a benignity, that hers, though a woman's, has not; and a thoughtfulness, as if something lay upon his mind, which nothing but patience could overcome; yet mingled with an air that shews him to be equal to any thing, that can be undertaken by man. While Olivia's eyes shew more fire and impetuosity than sweetness. Had I not been told it, I should have been sure that she has a violent spirit: but on the whole, she is a very fine figure of a woman.
She talked of taking a house, and staying in England a year at least; and was determined, she said, to perfect herself in the language, and to become an Englishwoman: but when Sir Charles, in the way of discourse, mentioned his obligation to leave England, as on next Friday morning, how did she and her aunt look upon each other! And how was the sunshine that gilded her fine countenance, shut in! Surely, sir, said her aunt, you are not in earnest!
After dinner, the two ladies retired with Sir Charles, at his motion. Dr. Bartlett, at Lady G–'s request, then gave us this short sketch of her history. He said, she had a vast fortune: she had had indiscretions; but none that had affected her character as to virtue: but her spirit could not bear control. She had shewn herself to be vindictive, even to a criminal degree. Lord bless me, my dear! the doctor has mentioned to me in confidence, that she always carries a poniard about her; and that once she used it. Had the person died, she would have been called to public account for it. The man, it seems, was of rank, and offered some slight affront to her. She now comes over, the doctor said, as he had reason to believe, with a resolution to sacrifice even her religion, if it were insisted upon, to the passion she had so long in vain endeavoured to conquer.
She has, he says, an utter hatred to Lady Clementina; and will not be able to govern her passion, he is sure, when Sir Charles shall acquaint her, that he is going to attend that lady, and her family: for he has only mentioned his obligation to go abroad; but not said whither.
Lord W– praised the person of the lady, and her majestic air. Lord L– and Lord G– wished to be within hearing of the conference between her and Sir Charles: so did Lady G–: and while they were thus wishing, in came Sir Charles, his face all in a glow; Lady L–, said he, be so good as to attend Lady Olivia.
She went to her; Sir Charles staid not with us: yet went not to the lady; but into his study. Dr. Bartlett attended him there: the doctor returned soon after to us. His noble heart is vexed, said he: Lady Olivia has greatly disturbed him: he chooses to be alone.
Lady L– afterwards told us, that she found the lady in violent anguish of spirit; her aunt endeavouring to calm her: she, however, politely addressed herself to Lady L–, and begging her aunt to withdraw for a few moments, she owned to her, in French, her passion for her brother: She was not, she said, ashamed to own it to his sister, who must know that his merit would dignify the passion of the noblest woman. She had endeavoured, she said, to conquer hers: she had been willing to give way to the prior attachments that he had pleaded for a lady of her own country, Signora Clementina della Porretta, whom she allowed to have had great merit; but who, having irrecoverably been put out of her right mind, was shut up at Naples by a brother, who vowed eternal enmity to Sir Charles; and from whom his life would be in the utmost hazard, if he went over. She owned, that her chief motive for coming to England was, to cast her fortune at her brother's feet; and, as she knew him to be a man of honour, to comply with any terms he should propose to her. He had offered to the family della Porretta to allow their daughter her religion, and her confessor, and to live with her every other year in Italy. She herself, not inferior in birth, in person, in mind, as she said, she presumed, and superior in fortune, the riches of three branches of her family, all rich, having centred in her, insisted not now upon such conditions. Her aunt, she said, knew not that she proposed, on conviction, a change of her religion; but she was resolved not to conceal anything from Lady L–. She left her to judge how much she must be affected, when he declared his obligation to leave England; and especially when he owned, that it was to go to Bologna, and that so suddenly, as if, as she apprehended at first, it was to avoid her. She had been in tears, she said, and even would have kneeled to him, to induce him to suspend his journey for one month, and then to have taken her over with him, and seen her safe in her own palace, if he would go upon so hated, and so fruitless, as well as so hazardous an errand: but he had denied her this poor favour.
This refusal, she owned, had put her out of all patience. She was unhappily passionate; but was the most placable of her sex. What, madam, said she, can affect a woman, if slight, indignity, and repulse, from a favoured person, is not able to do it? A woman of my condition to come over to England, to solicit—how can I support the thought—and to be refused the protection of the man she prefers to all men; and her request to see her safe back again, though but as the fool she came over!—You may blame me, madam—but you must pity me, even were you to have a heart the sister heart of your inflexible brother.
In vain did Lady L– plead to her Lady Clementina's deplorable situation; the reluctance of his own relations to part with him; and the magnanimity of his self-denial in a hundred instances, on the bare possibility of being an instrument to restore her: she could not bear to hear her speak highly of the unhappy lady. She charged Clementina with the pride of her family, to which she attributed their deserved calamity; [Deserved! Cruel lady! How could her pitiless heart allow her lips to utter such a word!] and imputed meanness to the noblest of human minds, for yielding to the entreaties of a family, some of the principals of which, she said, had treated him with an arrogance that a man of his spirit ought not to bear.
Lady Maffei came in. She seems dependent upon her niece. She is her aunt by marriage only: and Lady L– speaks very favourably of her from the advice she gave, and her remonstrances to her kinswoman. Lady Maffei besought her to compose herself, and return to the company.
She could not bear, she said, to return to the company, the slighted, the contemned object, she must appear to be to every one in it. I am an intruder, said she, haughtily; a beggar, with a fortune that would purchase a sovereignty in some countries. Make my excuses to your sister, to the rest of the company—and to that fine young lady—whose eyes, by their officious withdrawing from his, and by the consciousness that glowed in her face whenever he addressed her, betrayed, at least to a jealous eye, more than she would wish to have seen—But tell her, that all lovely and blooming as she is, she must have no hope, while Clementina lives.
I hope, Lucy, it is only to a jealous eye that my heart is so discoverable!—I thank her for her caution. But I can say what she cannot; that from my heart, cost me what it may, I do subscribe to a preference in favour of a lady, who has acted, in the most arduous trials, in a greater manner than I fear either Olivia or I could have acted, in the same circumstances. We see that her reason, but not her piety, deserted her in the noble struggle between her love and her religion. In the most affecting absences of her reason, the soul of the man she loved was the object of her passion. However hard it is to prefer another to one's self, in such a case as this; yet if my judgment is convinced, my acknowledgment shall follow it. Heaven will enable me to be reconciled to the event, because I pursue the dictates of that judgment, against the biases of my more partial heart. Let that Heaven, which only can, restore Clementina, and dispose as it pleases of Olivia and Harriet. We cannot either of us, I humbly hope, be so unhappy as the lady has been whom I rank among the first of women; and whose whole family deserves almost equal compassion.
Lady Olivia asked Lady L–, if her brother had not a very tender regard for me? He had, Lady L– answered; and told her, that he had rescued me from a very great distress; and that mine was the most grateful of human hearts.
She called me sweet young creature; (supposing me, I doubt not, younger than I am;) but said, that the graces of my person and mind alarmed her not, as they would have done, had not his attachment to Clementina been what now she saw, but never could have believed it was; having supposed, that compassion only was the tie that bound him to her.
But compassion, Lucy, from such a heart as his, the merit so great in the lady, must be love; a love of the nobler kind—And if it were not, it would be unworthy of Clementina's.
