"My dear friend, we were not formed for each other: our minds havenot the least resemblance. Have you not observed that, when I havetimidly hazarded my ideas on the delicacy necessary to keep love alivein marriage, and the difficulty of preserving the heart of the objectbeloved in so intimate an union, he has indolently assented, with acoldness not to be described, to sentiments which it is plain from hismanner he did not understand; whilst another, not interested in theconversation, has, by his countenance, by the fire of his eyes, bylooks more eloquent than all language, shewed his soul was ofintelligence with mine!
"A strong sense of the force of engagements entered into with myconsent, though not the effect of my free, unbiassed choice, and thefear of making Sir George, by whom I supposed myself beloved, unhappy,have thus long prevented my resolving to break with him for ever; andthough I could not bring myself to marry him, I found myself at thesame time incapable of assuming sufficient resolution to tell him so,'till his mother's letter gave me so happy an occasion.
"There is no saying what transport I feel in being freed from theinsupportable yoke of this engagement, which has long sat heavy on myheart, and suspended the natural chearfulness of my temper.
"Yes, my dear, your Emily has been wretched, without daring toconfess it even to you: I was ashamed of owning I had entered into suchengagements with a man whom I had never loved, though I had for a shorttime mistaken esteem for a greater degree of affection than my heartever really knew. How fatal, my dear Bell, is this mistake to half oursex, and how happy am I to have discovered mine in time!
"I have scarce yet asked myself what I intend; but I think it willbe most prudent to return to England in the first ship, and retire to arelation of my mother's in the country, where I can live with decencyon my little fortune.
"Whatever is my fate, no situation can be equally unhappy with thatof being wife to a man for whom I have not even the slightestfriendship or esteem, for whose conversation I have not the leasttaste, and who, if I know him, would for ever think me under anobligation to him for marrying me.
"I have the pleasure to see I give no pain to his heart, by a stepwhich has relieved mine from misery: his feelings are those of woundedvanity, not of love.
"Adieu! Your Emily Montague."
I have no patience with relations, Lucy; this sweet girl has beentwo years wretched under the bondage her uncle's avarice (for heforesaw Sir George's acquisition, though she did not) prepared for her.Parents should chuse our company, but never even pretend to direct ourchoice; if they take care we converse with men of honor only, 'tisimpossible we can chuse amiss: a conformity of taste and sentimentalone can make marriage happy, and of that none but the partiesconcerned can judge.
By the way, I think long engagements, even between persons who love,extremely unfavorable to happiness: it is certainly right to be longenough acquainted to know something of each other's temper; but 'tisbad to let the first fire burn out before we come together; and whenwe have once resolved, I have no notion of delaying a moment.
If I should ever consent to marry Fitzgerald, and he should not flyfor a licence before I had finished the sentence, I would dismiss himif there was not another lover to be had in Canada.
Adieu! Your faithful A. Fermor.
My Emily is now free as air; a sweet little bird escaped from thegilded cage. Are you not glad of it, Lucy? I am amazingly.
LETTER 66.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, Feb. 11.
Would one think it possible, Lucy, that Sir George should consolehimself for the loss of all that is lovely in woman, by the sordidprospect of acquiring, by an interested marriage, a little more of thatwealth of which he has already much more than he can either enjoy orbecome? By what wretched motives are half mankind influenced in themost important action of their lives!
The vulgar of every rank expect happiness where it is not to befound, in the ideal advantages of splendor and dissipation; those whodare to think, those minds who partake of the celestial fire, seek itin the real solid pleasures of nature and soft affection.
I have seen my lovely Emily since I wrote to you; I shall not seeher again of some days; I do not intend at present to make my visits toSilleri so frequent as I have done lately, lest the world, everstudious to blame, should misconstrue her conduct on this very delicateoccasion. I am even afraid to shew my usual attention to her whenpresent, lest she herself should think I presume on the politeness shehas ever shewn me, and see her breaking with Sir George in a falselight: the greater I think her obliging partiality to me, the moreguarded I ought to be in my behaviour to her; her situation has someresemblance to widowhood, and she has equal decorums to observe.
I cannot however help encouraging a pleasing hope that I am notabsolutely indifferent to her: her lovely eyes have a softness whenthey meet mine, to which words cannot do justice: she talks less to methan to others, but it is in a tone of voice which penetrates my soul;and when I speak, her attention is most flattering, though of a naturenot to be seen by common observers; without seeming to distinguish mefrom the crowd who strive to engage her esteem and friendship, she hasa manner of addressing me which the heart alone can feel; she contrivesto prevent my appearing to give her any preference to the rest of hersex, yet I have seen her blush at my civility to another.
She has at least a friendship for me, which alone would make thehappiness of my life; and which I would prefer to the love of the mostcharming woman imagination could form, sensible as I am to the sweetestof all passions: this friendship, however, time and assiduity may ripeninto love; at least I should be most unhappy if I did not think so.
I love her with a tenderness of which few of my sex are capable: youhave often told me, and you were right, that my heart has all thesensibility of woman.
A mail is arrived, by which I hope to hear from you; I must hurry tothe post office; you shall hear again in a few days.
Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 67.
To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.
London, Dec. 1.
You need be in no pain, my dear brother, on Mr. Temple's account;my heart is in no danger from a man of his present character: hisperson and manner are certainly extremely pleasing; his understanding,and I believe his principles, are worthy of your friendship; anencomium which, let me observe, is from me a very high one: he will beadmired every where, but to be beloved, he wants, or at least appearsto me to want, the most endearing of all qualities, that genuinetenderness of soul, that almost feminine sensibility, which, with allyour firmness of mind and spirit, you possess beyond any man I ever yetmet with.
If your friend wishes to please me, which I almost fancy he does, hemust endeavor to resemble you; 'tis rather hard upon me, I think, thatthe only man I perfectly approve, and whose disposition is formed tomake me happy, should be my brother: I beg you will find out somebodyvery like yourself for your sister, for you have really made me saucy.
I pity you heartily, and wish above all things to hear of yourEmily's marriage, for your present situation must be extremelyunpleasant.
But, my dear brother, as you were so very wise about Temple, allowme to ask you whether it is quite consistent with prudence to throwyourself in the way of a woman so formed to inspire you withtenderness, and whom it is so impossible you can ever hope to possess:is not this acting a little like a foolish girl, who plays round theflame which she knows will consume her?
My mother is well, but will never be happy till you return toEngland; I often find her in tears over your letters: I will say nomore on a subject which I know will give you pain. I hope, however, tohear you have given up all thoughts of settling in America: it would bea better plan to turn farmer in Rutland; we could double theestate by living upon it, and I am sure I should make the prettiestmilk-maid in the county.
I am serious, and think we could live very superbly all together inthe country; consider it well, my dear Ned, for I c
annot bear to see mymother so unhappy as your absence makes her. I hear her on the stairs;I must hurry away my letter, for I don't chuse she should know I writeto you on this subject.
Adieu! Your affectionate Lucy Rivers.
Say every thing for me to Bell Fermor; and in your own manner toyour Emily, in whose friendship I promise myself great happiness.
LETTER 68.
To Miss Montague, at Silleri.
Montreal, Feb. 10.
Never any astonishment equalled mine, my dear Emily, at hearing youhad broke an engagement of years, so much to your advantage as tofortune, and with a man of so very unexceptionable a character as SirGeorge, without any other apparent cause than a slight indelicacy in aletter of his mother's, for which candor and affection would have founda thousand excuses. I will not allow myself to suppose, what is howeverpublicly said here, that you have sacrificed prudence, decorum, and Ihad almost said honor, to an imprudent inclination for a man, to whomthere is the strongest reason to believe you are indifferent, and whois even said to have an attachment to another: I mean Colonel Rivers,who, though a man of worth, is in a situation which makes it impossiblefor him to think of you, were you even as dear to him as the world sayshe is to you.
I am too unhappy to say more on this subject, but expect from ourpast friendship a very sincere answer to two questions; whether lovefor Colonel Rivers was the real motive for the indiscreet step you havetaken? and whether, if it was, you have the excuse of knowing he lovesyou? I should be glad to know what are your views, if you have any. Iam,
My dear Emily, Your affectionate friend, E. Melmoth.
LETTER 69.
To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.
Silleri, Feb. 19.
My dear Madam,
I am too sensible of the rights of friendship, to refuse answeringyour questions; which I shall do in as few words as possible. I havenot the least reason to suppose myself beloved by Colonel Rivers; nor,if I know my heart, do I _love him_ in that sense of the wordyour question supposes: I think him the best, the most amiable ofmankind; and my extreme affection for him, though I believe thataffection only a very lively friendship, first awakened me to a senseof the indelicacy and impropriety of marrying Sir George.
To enter into so sacred an engagement as marriage with one man, witha stronger affection for another, of how calm and innocent a naturesoever that affection may be, is a degree of baseness of which my heartis incapable.
When I first agreed to marry Sir George, I had no superior esteemfor any other man; I thought highly of him, and wanted courage toresist the pressing solicitations of my uncle, to whom I had a thousandobligations. I even almost persuaded myself I loved him, nor did I findmy mistake till I saw Colonel Rivers, in whose conversation I had sovery lively a pleasure as soon convinced me of my mistake: I thereforeresolved to break with Sir George, and nothing but the fear of givinghim pain prevented my doing it sooner: his behaviour on the receipt ofhis mother's letter removed that fear, and set me free in my ownopinion, and I hope will in yours, from engagements which were equallyin the way of my happiness, and his ambition. If he is sincere, he willtell you my refusal of him made him happy, though he chuses to affect achagrin which he does not feel.
I have no view but that of returning to England in the spring, andfixing with a relation in the country.
If Colonel Rivers has an attachment, I hope it is to one worthy ofhim; for my own part, I never entertained the remotest thought of himin any light but that of the most sincere and tender of friends. I am,Madam, with great esteem,
Your affectionate friend and obedient servant, Emily Montague.
LETTER 70.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Feb. 27.
There are two parties at Quebec in regard to Emily: the prudentmammas abuse her for losing a good match, and suppose it to proceedfrom her partiality to your brother, to the imprudence of which theygive no quarter; whilst the misses admire her generosity and spirit, insacrificing all for love; so impossible it is to please every body.However, she has, in my opinion, done the wisest thing in the world;that is, she has pleased herself.
As to her inclination for your brother, I am of their opinion, thatshe loves him without being quite clear in the point herself: she hasnot yet confessed the fact even to me; but she has speaking eyes, Lucy,and I think I can interpret their language.
Whether he sees it or not I cannot tell; I rather think he does,because he has been less here, and more guarded in his manner whenhere, than before this matrimonial affair was put an end to; which isnatural enough on that supposition, because he knows the impertinenceof Quebec, and is both prudent and delicate to a great degree.
He comes, however, and we are pretty good company, only a littlemore reserved on both sides; which is, in my opinion, a littlesymptomatic.
La! here's papa come up to write at my bureau; I dare say, it's onlyto pry into what I am about; but excuse me, my dear Sir, for that.Adieu! _jusqu'au demain, ma tres chere_.
Yours, A. Fermor.
LETTER 71.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, Feb. 20.
Every hour, my Lucy, convinces me more clearly there is no happinessfor me without this lovely woman; her turn of mind is so correspondentto my own, that we seem to have but one soul: the first moment I sawher the idea struck me that we had been friends in some pre-existentstate, and were only renewing our acquaintance here; when she speaks,my heart vibrates to the sound, and owns every thought she expresses anative there.
The same dear affections, the same tender sensibility, the mostprecious gift of Heaven, inform our minds, and make us peculiarlycapable of exquisite happiness or misery.
The passions, my Lucy, are common to all; but the affections, thelively sweet affections, the only sources of true pleasure, are theportion only of a chosen few.
Uncertain at present of the nature of her sentiments, I amdetermined to develop them clearly before I discover mine: if she lovesas I do, even a perpetual exile here will be pleasing. The remotestwood in Canada with her would be no longer a desert wild; it would bethe habitation of the Graces.
But I forget your letter, my dear girl; I am hurt beyond words atwhat you tell me of my mother; and would instantly return to England,did not my fondness for this charming woman detain me here: you areboth too good in wishing to retire with me to the country; will yourtenderness lead you a step farther, my Lucy? It would be too much tohope to see you here; and yet, if I marry Emily, it will be impossiblefor me to think of returning to England.
There is a man here whom I should prefer of all men I ever saw foryou; but he is already attached to your friend Bell Fermor, who is veryinattentive to her own happiness, if she refuses him: I am very happyin finding you think of Temple as I wish you should.
You are so very civil, Lucy, in regard to me, I am afraid ofbecoming vain from your praises.
Take care, my dear, you don't spoil me by this excess of civility,for my only merit is that of not being a coxcomb.
I have a heaviness of heart, which has never left me since I readyour letter: I am shocked at the idea of giving pain to the best parentthat ever existed; yet have less hope than ever of seeing England,without giving up the tender friend, the dear companion, the adoredmistress; in short the very woman I have all my life been in search of:I am also hurt that I cannot place this object of all my wishes in astation equal to that she has rejected, and I begin to think rejectedfor me.
I never before repined at seeing the gifts of fortune lavished onthe unworthy.
Adieu, my dear! I will write again when I can write more chearfully.
Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 72.
To the Earl of ----.
My Lord,
Silleri, Feb. 20.
Your Lordship does me great honor in supposing me capable of givingany satisfactory account of a country in which I have spent onl
y a fewmonths.
As a proof, however, of my zeal, and the very strong desire I haveto merit the esteem you honor me with, I shall communicate from time totime the little I have observed, and may observe, as well as what Ihear from good authority, with that lively pleasure with which I haveever obeyed every command of your Lordship's.
The French, in the first settling this colony, seem to have had aneye only to the conquest of ours: their whole system of policy seemsto have been military, not commercial; or only so far commercial as wasnecessary to supply the wants, and by so doing to gain the friendship,of the savages, in order to make use of them against us.
The lands are held on military tenure: every peasant is a soldier,every seigneur an officer, and both serve without pay whenever calledupon; this service is, except a very small quit-rent by way ofacknowledgement, all they pay for their lands: the seigneur holds ofthe crown, the peasant of the seigneur, who is at once his lord andcommander.
The peasants are in general tall and robust, notwithstanding theirexcessive indolence; they love war, and hate labor; are brave, hardy,alert in the field, but lazy and inactive at home; in which theyresemble the savages, whose manners they seem strongly to haveimbibed. The government appears to have encouraged a military spiritall over the colony; though ignorant and stupid to a great degree,these peasants have a strong sense of honor; and though they serve, asI have said, without pay, are never so happy as when called to thefield.