LETTER XXXV
MISS BYRON, TO MISS SELBY WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19.
I shall dispatch this by your Gibson early in the morning. It was kind in you to bid him call, in his way down; for now I shall be almost sure of meeting (if not my uncle) your brother, and who knows, but my Lucy herself, at Dunstable? Where, barring accidents, I shall be on Friday night.
You will see some of the worthiest people in the world, my dear, if you come, all prepared to love you: but let not any body be put to inconvenience to meet me at Dunstable. My noble friends here will proceed with me to Stratford, or even to Northampton, they say; but they will see me safe in the protection of somebody I love, and whom they must love for my sake.
I don't wonder that Sir Charles Grandison loves Mr. Beauchamp: he is a very worthy and sensible man. He, as every body else, idolizes Sir Charles. It is some pleasure to me, Lucy, that I stand high in his esteem. To be respected by the worthy, is one of the greatest felicities in this life; since it is to be ranked as one of them. Sir Harry and his lady are come to town. All, it seems, is harmony in that family. They cannot bear Mr. Beauchamp's absence from them for three days together. All the neighbouring gentlemen are in love with him. His manners are so gentle; his temper so even; so desirous to oblige; so genteel in his person; so pleasing in his address; he must undoubtedly make a good woman very happy.
But Emily, poor girl! sees only Sir Charles Grandison with eyes of love. Mr. Beauchamp is, however, greatly pleased with Emily. He told Lady G—— that he thought her a fine young creature; and that her mind was still more amiable than her person. But his behaviour to her is extremely prudent. He says finer things of her, than to her: yet surely I am mistaken if he meditates not in her his future wife.
Mr. Beauchamp will be one of my escort.
Emily, at her own request, is to go to Colnebrook with Lady L—— after I am gone.
Mr. Reeves will ride. Lord L—— and Lord G—— will also oblige me with their company on horseback.
Mrs. Reeves is forbidden to venture; but Lady L—— and Lady G—— will not be denied coming with me.
I shall take leave of Lady Olivia and Lady Maffei to-morrow morning; when
they will set out for their projected tour. To-morrow we and the whole
Grandison family are to dine together at Lord L——'s, for the last time.
It will be a mournful dining-time, on that account.
Lady Betty Williams, her daughter, and Miss Clements, supped with us this night, and took leave of me in the tenderest manner. They greatly regret my going down so soon, as they call it.
As to the public diversions, which they wish me to stay and give into, to be sure I should have been glad to have been better qualified to have entertained you with the performances of this or that actor, this or that musician, and the like: but, frightened by the vile plot upon me at a masquerade, I was thrown out of that course of diversion, and indeed into more affecting, more interesting engagements; into the knowledge of a family that had no need to look out of itself for entertainments: and, besides, are not all the company we see, as visiters or guests, full of these things? I have seen the principal performers, in every way, often enough to give me a notion of their performances, though I have not troubled you with such common things as revolve every season.
You know I am far from slighting the innocent pleasures in which others delight—It would have been happier for me, perhaps, had I had more leisure to attend those amusements, than I have found. Yet I am not sure, neither: for methinks, with all the pangs that my suspenses have cost me, I would not but have known Sir Charles Grandison, his sisters, his Emily, and Dr. Bartlett.
I could only have wished to have been spared Sir Hargrave Pollexfen's vile attempt: then, if I had come acquainted with this family, it would have been as I came acquainted with others: my gratitude had not been engaged so deeply.
Well—But what signify if's?—What has been, has; what must be, must. Only love me, my dear friends, as you used to love me. If I was a good girl when I left you, I hope I am not a bad one now, that I am returning to you. My morals, I bless God, are unhurt: my heart is not corrupted by the vanities of the great town: I have a little more experience than I had: and if I have severely paid for it, it is not at the price of my reputation. And I hope, if nobody has benefited by me, since I have been in town, that no one has suffered by me. Poor Mr. Fowler!—I could not help it, you know. Had I, by little snares, follies, coquetries, sought to draw him on, and entangle him, his future welfare would, with reason, be more the subject of my solicitude, than it is now necessary it should be; though, indeed, I cannot help making it a good deal so.
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THURSDAY MORNING.
Dr. Bartlett has just now taken leave of me, in my own dressing-room.
The parting scene between us was tender.
I have not given you my opinion of Miss Williams. Had I seen her at my first coming to town, I should have taken as much notice of her, in my letters to you, as I did of the two Miss Brambers, Miss Darlington, Miss Cantillon, Miss Allestree, and others of my own sex; and of Mr. Somner, Mr. Barnet, Mr. Walden, of the other; who took my first notice, as they fell early in my way, and with whom it is possible, as well as with the town-diversions, I had been more intimate, had not Sir Hargrave's vile attempt carried me out of their acquaintance into a much higher; which of necessity, as well as choice, entirely engrossed my attention. But now how insipid would any new characters appear to you, if they were but of a like cast with those I have mentioned, were I to make such the subjects of my pen, and had I time before me; which I cannot have, to write again, before I embrace you all, my dear, my ever dear and indulgent friends!
I will only say, that Miss Williams is a genteel girl; but will hardly be more than one of the better sort of modern women of condition; and that she is to be classed so high, will be owing more to Miss Clements's lessons, than, I am afraid, to her mother's example.
Is it, Lucy, that I have more experience and discernment now, or less charity and good-nature, than when I first came to town? for then I thought well, in the main, of Lady Betty Williams. But though she is a good-natured, obliging woman; she is so immersed in the love of public diversions! so fond of routs, drums, hurricanes,—Bless me, my dear! how learned should I have been in all the gaieties of the modern life; what a fine lady, possibly; had I not been carried into more rational (however to me they have been more painful) scenes; and had I followed the lead of this lady, as she (kindly, as to her intention) had designed I should!
In the afternoon Mr. Beauchamp is to introduce Sir Harry and Lady
Beauchamp, on their first visit to the two sisters.
I had almost forgot to tell you, that my cousins and I are to attend the good Countess of D—— for one half hour, after we have taken leave of Lady Olivia and her aunt.
And now, my Lucy, do I shut up my correspondence with you from London. My heart beats high with the hope of being as indulgently received by all you, my dearest friends, as I used to be after a shorter absence: for I am, and ever will be,
The grateful, dutiful, and affectionate
HARRIET BYRON.