O Heavens! your brother and Fitzgerald! I fly. The dear creatures!my life has been absolute vegetation since they absented themselves.
Adieu! my dear, Your faithful A. Fermor.
LETTER 56.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Jan. 24.
We have the same parties and amusements we used to have, my dear,but there is by no means the same spirit in them; constraint anddullness seem to have taken the place of that sweet vivacity andconfidence which made our little society so pleasing: this odious manhas infected us all; he seems rather a spy on our pleasures than apartaker of them; he is more an antidote to joy than a tall maidenaunt.
I wish he would go; I say spontaneously every time I see him,without considering I am impolite, "La! Sir George, when do you go toMontreal?" He reddens, and gives me a peevish answer; and I then, andnot before, recollect how very impertinent the question is.
But pray, my dear, because he has no taste for social companionablelife, has he therefore a right to damp the spirit of it in those thathave? I intend to consult some learned casuist on this head.
He takes amazing pains to please in his way, is curled, powdered,perfumed, and exhibits every day in a new suit of embroidery; but withall this, has the mortification to see your brother please more in aplain coat. I am lazy. Adieu!
Yours, ever and ever, A. Fermor.
LETTER 57.
To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.
Jan. 25.
So you intend, my dear Jack, to marry when you are quite tired of alife of gallantry: the lady will be much obliged to you for a heart,the refuse of half the prostitutes in town; a heart, the best feelingsof which will be entirely obliterated; a heart hardened by a longcommerce with the most unworthy of the sex; and which will bringdisgust, suspicion, coldness, and depravity of taste, to the bosom ofsensibility and innocence.
For my own part, though fond of women to the greatest degree, I havehad, considering my profession and complexion, very few intrigues. Ihave always had an idea I should some time or other marry, and havebeen unwilling to bring to a state in which I hoped for happiness frommutual affection, a heart worn out by a course of gallantries: to acontrary conduct is owing most of our unhappy marriages; the womanbrings with her all her stock of tenderness, truth, and affection; theman's is exhausted before they meet: she finds the generous delicatetenderness of her soul, not only unreturned, but unobserved; shefancies some other woman the object of his affection, she is unhappy,she pines in secret; he observes her discontent, accuses her ofcaprice; and her portion is wretchedness for life.
If I did not ardently wish your happiness, I should not thusrepeatedly combat a prejudice, which, as you have sensibility, willinfallibly make the greater part of your life a scene of insipidityand regret.
You are right, Jack, as to the savages; the only way to civilizethem is to _feminize_ their women; but the task is ratherdifficult: at present their manners differ in nothing from those of themen; they even add to the ferocity of the latter.
You desire to know the state of my heart: excuse me, Jack; you knownothing of love; and we who do, never disclose its mysteries to theprophane: besides, I always chuse a female for the confidante of mysentiments; I hate even to speak of love to one of my own sex.
Adieu! I am going a party with half a dozen ladies, and have notanother minute to spare.
Yours, Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 58.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Jan. 28.
I every hour, my dear, grow more in love with French manners; thereis something charming in being young and sprightly all one's life: itwould appear absurd in England to hear, what I have just heard, a fatvirtuous lady of seventy toast _Love and Opportunity_ to a youngfellow; but 'tis nothing here: they dance too to the last gasp; I haveseen the daughter, mother, and grand-daughter, in the same Frenchcountry dance.
They are perfectly right; and I honor them for their good sense andspirit, in determining to make life agreable as long as they can.
_A propos_ to age, I am resolved to go home, Lucy; I have foundthree grey hairs this morning; they tell me 'tis common; this vileclimate is at war with beauty, makes one's hair grey, and one's handsred. I won't stay, absolutely.
Do you know there is a very pretty fellow here, Lucy, CaptainHoward, who has taken a fancy to make people believe he and I are ongood terms? He affects to sit by me, to dance with me, to whispernothing to me, to bow with an air of mystery, and to shew me all thelittle attentions of a lover in public, though he never yet said acivil thing to me when we were alone.
I was standing with him this morning near the brow of the hill,leaning against a tree in the sunshine, and looking down the precipicebelow, when I said something of the lover's leap, and in play, as youwill suppose, made a step forwards: we had been talking of indifferentthings, his air was till then indolence itself; but on this littlemotion of mine, though there was not the least danger, he with theutmost seeming eagerness catched hold of me as if alarmed at the veryidea, and with the most passionate air protested his life depended onmine, and that he would not live an hour after me. I looked at him withastonishment, not being able to comprehend the meaning of this suddenflight, when turning my head, I saw a gentleman and lady close behindus, whom he had observed though I had not. They were retiring: "Prayapproach, my dear Madam," said I; "we have no secrets, this declarationwas intended for you to hear; we were talking of the weather before youcame."
He affected to smile, though I saw he was mortified; but as hissmile shewed the finest teeth imaginable I forgave him: he is reallyvery handsome, and 'tis pity he has this foolish quality of preferringthe shadow to the substance.
I shall, however, desire him to flirt elsewhere, as this _badinage_,however innocent, may hurt my character, and give pain to my littleFitzgerald: I believe I begin to love this fellow, because I begin tobe delicate on the subject of flirtations, and feel my spirit ofcoquetry decline every day.
29th.
Mrs. Clayton has wrote, my dear; and has at last condescended toallow Emily the honor of being her daughter-in-law, in consideration ofher son's happiness, and of engagements entered into with her ownconsent; though she very prudently observes, that what was a propermatch for Captain Clayton is by no means so for Sir George; and talkssomething of an offer of a citizen's daughter with fifty thousandpounds, and the promise of an Irish title. She has, however, observedthat indiscreet engagements are better broke than kept.
Sir George has shewn the letter, a very indelicate one in myopinion, to my father and me; and has talked a great deal of nonsenseon the subject. He wants to shew it to Emily, and I advise him to it,because I know the effect it will have. I see plainly he wishes to makea great merit of keeping his engagement, if he does keep it: he hinteda little fear of breaking her heart; and I am convinced, if he thoughtshe could survive his infidelity, all his tenderness and constancywould cede to filial duty and a coronet.
Eleven o'clock.
After much deliberation, Sir George has determined to write toEmily, inclose his mother's letter, and call in the afternoon to enjoythe triumph of his generosity in keeping his engagement, when it is inhis power to do so much better: 'tis a pretty plan, and I encourage himin it; my father, who wishes the match, shrugs his shoulders, andfrowns at me; but the little man is fixed as fate in his resolve, andis writing at this moment in my father's apartment. I long to see hisletter; I dare say it will be a curiosity: 'tis short, however, for heis coming out of the room already.
Adieu! my father calls for this letter; it is to go in one of his toNew York, and the person who takes it waits for it at the door.
Ever yours, A. Fermor.
LETTER 59.
To Miss Montague, at Silleri.
Dear Madam,
I send you the inclosed from my mother: I thought it necessary youshould see it, though not even a mother's wishes shall ever influenceme to break those engage
ments which I have had the happiness ofentering into with the most charming of women, and which a man of honorought to hold sacred.
I do not think happiness intirely dependent on rank or fortune, andhave only to wish my mother's sentiments on this subject more agreableto my own, as there is nothing I so much wish as to oblige her: at allevents, however, depend on my fulfilling those promises, which ought tobe the more binding, as they were made at a time when our situationswere more equal.
I am happy in an opportunity of convincing you and the world, thatinterest and ambition have no power over my heart, when put incompetition with what I owe to my engagements; being with the greatesttruth,
My dearest Madam, Yours, &c. G. Clayton.
You will do me the honor to name the day to make me happy.
LETTER 60.
To Sir George Clayton, at Quebec.
Dear Sir,
I have read Mrs. Clayton's letter with attention; and am of heropinion, that indiscreet engagements are better broke than kept.
I have the less reason to take ill your breaking the kind ofengagement between us at the desire of your family, as I entered intoit at first entirely in compliance with mine. I have ever had thesincerest esteem and friendship for you, but never that romantic lovewhich hurries us to forget all but itself: I have therefore no reasonto expect in you the imprudent disinterestedness that passionoccasions.
A fuller explanation is necessary on this subject than it ispossible to enter into in a letter: if you will favor us with yourcompany this afternoon at Silleri, we may explain our sentiments moreclearly to each other: be assured, I never will prevent your complyingin every instance with the wishes of so kind and prudent a mother.
I am, dear Sir, Your affectionate friend and obedient servant, Emily Montague.
LETTER 61.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
I have been with Emily, who has been reading Mrs. Clayton's letter; Isaw joy sparkle in her eyes as she went on, her little heart seemed toflutter with transport; I see two things very clearly, one of whichis, that she never loved this little insipid Baronet; the other I leaveyour sagacity to find out. All the spirit of her countenance isreturned: she walks in air; her cheeks have the blush of pleasure; Inever saw so astonishing a change. I never felt more joy from theacquisition of a new lover, than she seems to find in the prospect oflosing an old one.
She has written to Sir George, and in a style that I know will hurthim; for though I believe he wishes her to give him up, yet his vanitywould desire it should cost her very dear; and appear the effort ofdisinterested love, and romantic generosity, not what it really is, theeffect of the most tranquil and perfect indifference.
By the way, a disinterested mistress is, according to my ideas, amistress who _fancies_ she loves: we may talk what we please, at adistance, of sacrificing the dear man to his interest, and promotinghis happiness by destroying our own; but when it comes to the point, Iam rather inclined to believe all women are of my way of thinking; andlet me die if I would give up a man I loved to the first dutchess inChristendom: 'tis all mighty well in theory; but for the practicalpart, let who will believe it for Bell.
Indeed when a woman finds her lover inclined to change, 'tis good tomake a virtue of necessity, and give the thing a sentimental turn,which gratifies his vanity, and does not wound one's own.
Adieu! I see Sir George and his fine carriole; I must run, and tellEmily.
Ever yours, A. Fermor.
LETTER 62.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Jan. 28.
Yes, my Lucy, your brother tenderly regrets the absence of a sisterendeared to him much more by her amiable qualities than by blood; whowould be the object of his esteem and admiration, if she was not thatof his fraternal tenderness; who has all the blooming graces,simplicity, and innocence of nineteen, with the accomplishments andunderstanding of five and twenty; who joins the strength of mind sooften confined to our sex, to the softness, delicacy, and vivacity ofher own; who, in short, is all that is estimable and lovely; and who,except one, is the most charming of her sex: you will forgive theexception, Lucy; perhaps no man but a brother would make it.
My sweet Emily appears every day more amiable; she is now in thefull tyranny of her charms, at the age when the mind is improved, andthe person in its perfection. I every day see in her more indifferenceto her lover, a circumstance which gives me a pleasure which perhaps itought not: there is a selfishness in it, for which I am afraid I oughtto blush.
You judge perfectly well, my dear, in checking the natural vivacityof your temper, however pleasing it is to all who converse with you:coquetry is dangerous to English women, because they have sensibility;it is more suited to the French, who are naturally something of thesalamander kind.
I have this moment a note from Bell Fermor, that she must see methis instant. I hope my Emily is well: Heaven preserve the mostperfect of all its works.
Adieu! my dear girl. Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 63.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Feb. 1.
We have passed three or four droll days, my dear. Emily persists inresolving to break with Sir George; he thinks it decent to combat herresolution, lest he should lose the praise of generosity: he is alsopiqued to see her give him up with such perfect composure, though I amconvinced he will not be sorry upon the whole to be given up; he has,from the first receipt of the letter, plainly wished her to resignhim, but hoped for a few faintings and tears, as a sacrifice to hisvanity on the occasion.
My father is setting every engine at work to make things up again,supposing Emily to have determined from pique, not from the realfeelings of her heart: he is frighted to death lest I shouldcounterwork him, and so jealous of my advising her to continue aconduct he so much disapproves, that he won't leave us a momenttogether; he even observes carefully that each goes into herrespective apartment when we retire to bed.
This jealousy has started an idea which I think will amuse us, andwhich I shall take the first opportunity of communicating to Emily;'tis to write each other at night our sentiments on whatever passes inthe day; if she approves the plan, I will send you the letters, whichwill save me a great deal of trouble in telling you all our _petiteshistoires_.
This scheme will have another advantage; we shall be a thousandtimes more sincere and open to each other by letter than face to face;I have long seen by her eyes that the little fool has twenty things tosay to me, but has not courage; now letters you know, my dear,
"Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart."
Besides, it will be so romantic and pretty, almost as agreable as alove affair: I long to begin the correspondence.
Adieu! Yours, A. Fermor.
LETTER 64.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, Feb. 5.
I have but a moment, my Lucy, to tell you, my divine Emily has brokewith her lover, who this morning took an eternal leave of her, and setout for Montreal in his way to New York, whence he proposes to embarkfor England.
My sensations on this occasion are not to be described: I admirethat amiable delicacy which has influenced her to give up everyadvantage of rank and fortune which could tempt the heart of woman,rather than unite herself to a man for whom she felt the least degreeof indifference; and this, without regarding the censures of herfamily, or of the world, by whom, what they will call her imprudence,will never be forgiven: a woman who is capable of acting so nobly, isworthy of being beloved, of being adored, by every man who has a soulto distinguish her perfections.
If I was a vain man, I might perhaps fancy her regard for me hadsome share in determining her conduct, but I am convinced of thecontrary; 'tis the native delicacy of her soul alone, incapable offorming an union in which the heart has no share, which, independent ofany other consideration, has been the cause of a resolution so worthyof herself.
That she has the tenderest affection for me, I cannot doubt onemoment; her attention is too flattering to be unobserved; but 'tis thatkind of affection in which the mind alone is concerned. I never gaveher the most distant hint that I loved her: in her situation, it wouldhave been even an outrage to have done so. She knows the narrowness ofmy circumstances, and how near impossible it is for me to marry; shetherefore could not have an idea--no, my dear girl, 'tis not to love,but to true delicacy, that she has sacrificed avarice and ambition; andshe is a thousand times the more estimable from this circumstance.
I am interrupted. You shall hear from me in a few days.
Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 65.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Feb. 10.
I have mentioned my plan to Emily, who is charmed with it; 'tis apretty evening amusement for two solitary girls in the country.
Behold the first fruits of our correspondence:
"To Miss Fermor.
"It is not to you, my dear girl, I need vindicate my conduct inregard to Sir George; you have from the first approved it; you haveeven advised it. If I have been to blame, 'tis in having too longdelayed an explanation on a point of such importance to us both. Ihave been long on the borders of a precipice, without courage to retirefrom so dangerous a situation: overborn by my family, I have been nearmarrying a man for whom I have not the least tenderness, and whoseconversation is even now tedious to me.