I have the favour of yours. We are very miserable here. The servants
are forbidden to answer any inquiries, but generally; and that not truly.
Your friend, Signor Jeronymo, has gone through a severe operation. He
has been given over; but hopes are now entertained, not of his absolute
recovery, but that he will be no worse than he was before the necessity
for the operation arose. Poor man! He forgot not, however, his sister
and you, when he was out of the power of the opiates that were
administered to him.
On my coming hither, I found Lady Clementina in a deplorable way:
Sometimes raving, sometimes gloomy; and in bonds--Twice had she given
them apprehensions of fatal attempts: they, therefore, confined her
hands.
They have been excessively wrong in their management of her: now
soothing, now severe; observing no method.
She was extremely earnest to see you before you left Bologna. On her
knees repeatedly she besought this favour, and promised to be easy if
they would comply; but they imagined that their compliance would
aggravate the symptoms.
I very freely blamed them for not complying, at the time when she was so
desirous of seeing you. I told them, that soothing her would probably
then have done good.
When they knew you were actually gone from Bologna, they told her so.
Camilla shocked me with the description of her rage and despair, on the
communication. This was followed by fits of silence, and the deepest
melancholy.
They had hopes, on my arrival, that my company would have been of service
to her: but for two days together she regarded me not, nor any thing I
could say to her. On the third of my arrival, finding her confinement
extremely uneasy to her, I prevailed, but with great difficulty, to have
her restored to the use of her hands; and to be allowed to walk with me
in the garden. They had hinted to me their apprehensions about a piece
of water.
Her woman being near us, if there had been occasion for assistance, I
insensibly led that way. She sat down on a seat over-against the great
cascade; but she made no motion that gave me apprehensions. From this
time she has been fonder of me than before. The day I obtained this
liberty for her, she often clasped her arms about me, and laid her face
in my bosom; and I could plainly see, it was in gratitude for restoring
to her the use of her arms: but she cared not to speak.
Indeed she generally affects deep silence: yet, at times, I see her very
soul is fretted. She moves to one place, is tired of that, shifts to
another, and another, all round the room.
I am grieved at my heart for her: I never knew a more excellent young
creature.
She is very attentive at her devotions, and as constant in them as she
used to be: Every good habit she preserves; yet, at other times, rambles
much.
She is often for writing letters to you; but when what she writes is
privately taken from her, she makes no inquiry about it, but takes a new
sheet, and begins again.
Sometimes she draws; but her subjects are generally angels and saints.
She often meditates in a map of the British dominions, and now and then
wishes she were in England.
Lady Juliana de Sforza is earnest to have her with her at Urbino, or at
Milan, where she has also a noble palace; but I hope it will not be
granted. That lady professes to love her; but she cannot be persuaded
out of her notion of harsh methods, which will never do with Clementina.
I shall not be able to stay long with her. The discomposure of so
excellent a young creature affects me deeply. Could I do her either good
or pleasure, I should be willing to deny myself the society of my dear
friends at Florence: but I am persuaded, and have hinted as much, that
one interview with you would do more to settle her mind, than all the
methods they have taken.
I hope, sir, to see you before you leave Italy. It must be at Florence,
not at Bologna, I believe. It is generous of you to propose the latter.
I have now been here a week, without hope. The doctors they have
consulted are all for severe methods, and low diet. The first, I think,
is in compliment to some of the family. She is so loath to take
nourishment, and when she does, is so very abstemious, that the regimen
is hardly necessary. She never, or but very seldom, used to drink any
thing but water.
She took it into her poor head several times this day, and perhaps it
will hold, to sit in particular places, to put on attentive looks, as if
she were listening to somebody. She sometimes smiled, and seemed
pleased; looked up, as if to somebody, and spoke English. I have no
doubt, though I was not present when she assumed these airs, and talked
English, but her disordered imagination brought before her her tutor
instructing her in that tongue.
You desired me, sir, to be very particular. I have been so; but at the
expense of my eyes: and I shall not wonder if your humane heart should be
affected by my sad tale.
God preserve you, and prosper you in whatsoever you undertake!