A Jesuit missionary told me a story on this subject, which onecannot hear without horror: an Indian woman with whom he liv'd on hismission was feeding her children, when her husband brought in anEnglish prisoner; she immediately cut off his arm, and gave herchildren the streaming blood to drink: the Jesuit remonstrated on thecruelty of the action, on which, looking sternly at him, "I would havethem warriors," said she, "and therefore feed them with the food ofmen."
This anecdote may perhaps disgust you with the Indian ladies, whocertainly do not excel in female softness. I will therefore turn to theCanadian, who have every charm except that without which all othercharms are to me insipid, I mean sensibility: they are gay, coquet, andsprightly; more gallant than sensible; more flatter'd by the vanity ofinspiring passion, than capable of feeling it themselves; and, liketheir European countrywomen, prefer the outward attentions of unmeaningadmiration to the real devotion of the heart. There is not perhaps onearth a race of females, who talk so much, or feel so little, of loveas the French; the very reverse is in general true of the English: myfair countrywomen seem ashamed of the charming sentiment to which theyare indebted for all their power.
Adieu! I am going to attend a very handsome French lady, who allowsme the honor to drive her _en calache_ to our Canadian Hyde Park,the road to St. Foix, where you will see forty or fifty calashes, withpretty women in them, parading every evening: you will allow theapology to be admissible.
Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 5.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, July 4.
What an inconstant animal is man! do you know, Lucy, I begin to betir'd of the lovely landscape round me? I have enjoy'd from it all thepleasure meer inanimate objects can give, and find 'tis a pleasure thatsoon satiates, if not relieved by others which are more lively. Thescenery is to be sure divine, but one grows weary of meer scenery: themost enchanting prospect soon loses its power of pleasing, when the eyeis accustom'd to it: we gaze at first transported on the charms ofnature, and fancy they will please for ever; but, alas! it will notdo; we sigh for society, the conversation of those dear to us; themore animated pleasures of the heart. There are fine women, and men ofmerit here; but, as the affections are not in our power, I have notyet felt my heart gravitate towards any of them. I must absolutely setin earnest about my settlement, in order to emerge from the state ofvegetation into which I seem falling.
But to your last: you ask me a particular account of the conventshere. Have you an inclination, my dear, to turn nun? if you have, youcould not have applied to a properer person; my extreme modesty andreserve, and my speaking French, having made me already a greatfavourite with the older part of all the three communities, whounanimously declare colonel Rivers to be _un tres aimable homme_,and have given me an unlimited liberty of visiting them whenever Iplease: they now and then treat _me_ with a sight of some of theyoung ones, but this is a favor not allow'd to all the world.
There are three religious houses at Quebec, so you have choice; theUrsulines, the Hotel Dieu, and the General Hospital. The first is theseverest order in the Romish church, except that very cruel one whichdenies its fair votaries the inestimable liberty of speech. The houseis large and handsome, but has an air of gloominess, with which theblack habit, and the livid paleness of the nuns, extremely corresponds.The church is, contrary to the style of the rest of the convent,ornamented and lively to the last degree. The superior is anEnglish-woman of good family, who was taken prisoner by the savageswhen a child, and plac'd here by the generosity of a French officer.She is one of the most amiable women I ever knew, with a benevolence inher countenance which inspires all who see her with affection: I amvery fond of her conversation, tho' sixty and a nun.
The Hotel Dieu is very pleasantly situated, with a view of the tworivers, and the entrance of the port: the house is chearful, airy, andagreeable; the habit extremely becoming, a circumstance a handsomewoman ought by no means to overlook; 'tis white with a black gauzeveil, which would shew your complexion to great advantage. The order ismuch less severe than the Ursulines, and I might add, much more useful,their province being the care of the sick: the nuns of this house aresprightly, and have a look of health which is wanting at the Ursulines.
The General Hospital, situated about a mile out of town, on theborders of the river St. Charles, is much the most agreeable of thethree. The order and the habit are the same with the Hotel Dieu, exceptthat to the habit is added the cross, generally worn in Europe bycanonesses only: a distinction procur'd for them by their founder, St.Vallier, the second bishop of Quebec. The house is, without, a verynoble building; and neatness, elegance and propriety reign within. Thenuns, who are all of the noblesse, are many of them handsome, and allgenteel, lively, and well bred; they have an air of the world, theirconversation is easy, spirited, and polite: with them you almost forgetthe recluse in the woman of condition. In short, you have the bestnuns at the Ursulines, the most agreeable women at the GeneralHospital: all however have an air of chagrin, which they in vainendeavour to conceal; and the general eagerness with which they tellyou unask'd they are happy, is a strong proof of the contrary.
Tho' the most indulgent of all men to the follies of others,especially such as have their source in mistaken devotion; tho' willingto allow all the world to play the fool their own way, yet I cannothelp being fir'd with a degree of zeal against an institution equallyincompatible with public good, and private happiness; an institutionwhich cruelly devotes beauty and innocence to slavery, regret, andwretchedness; to a more irksome imprisonment than the severest lawsinflict on the worst of criminals.
Could any thing but experience, my dear Lucy, make it be believ'dpossible that there should be rational beings, who think they areserving the God of mercy by inflicting on themselves voluntarytortures, and cutting themselves off from that state of society inwhich he has plac'd them, and for which they were form'd? by renouncingthe best affections of the human heart, the tender names of friend, ofwife, of mother? and, as far as in them lies, counter-working creation?by spurning from them every amusement however innocent, by refusing thegifts of that beneficent power who made us to be happy, and destroyinghis most precious gifts, health, beauty, sensibility, chearfulness, andpeace!
My indignation is yet awake, from having seen a few days since atthe Ursulines, an extreme lovely young girl, whose countenance spoke asoul form'd for the most lively, yet delicate, ties of love andfriendship, led by a momentary enthusiasm, or perhaps by a childishvanity artfully excited, to the foot of those altars, which she willprobably too soon bathe with the bitter tears of repentance andremorse.
The ceremony, form'd to strike the imagination, and seduce the heartof unguarded youth, is extremely solemn and affecting; the processionof the nuns, the sweetness of their voices in the choir, the dignifieddevotion with which the charming enthusiast received the veil, and tookthe cruel vow which shut her from the world for ever, struck my heartin spite of my reason, and I felt myself touch'd even to tears by asuperstition I equally pity and despise.
I am not however certain it was the ceremony which affected me thusstrongly; it was impossible not to feel for this amiable victim; neverwas there an object more interesting; her form was elegance itself;her air and motion animated and graceful; the glow of pleasure was onher cheek, the fire of enthusiasm in her eyes, which are the finest Iever saw: never did I see joy so livelily painted on the countenance ofthe happiest bride; she seem'd to walk in air; her whole person look'dmore than human.
An enemy to every species of superstition, I must however allow itto be least destructive to true virtue in your gentle sex, andtherefore to be indulg'd with least danger: the superstition of men isgloomy and ferocious; it lights the fire, and points the dagger of theassassin; whilst that of women takes its color from the sex; is soft,mild, and benevolent; exerts itself in acts of kindness and charity,and seems only substituting the love of God to that of man.
Who can help admiring, whilst they pity, the foundress of t
heUrsuline convent, Madame de la Peltrie, to whom the very colony in somemeasure owes its existence? young, rich and lovely; a widow in thebloom of life, mistress of her own actions, the world was gay beforeher, yet she left all the pleasures that world could give, to devoteher days to the severities of a religion she thought the only true one:she dar'd the dangers of the sea, and the greater dangers of a savagepeople; she landed on an unknown shore, submitted to the extremities ofcold and heat, of thirst and hunger, to perform a service she thoughtacceptable to the Deity. To an action like this, however mistaken themotive, bigotry alone will deny praise: the man of candor will onlylament that minds capable of such heroic virtue are not directed toviews more conducive to their own and the general happiness.
I am unexpectedly call'd this moment, my dear Lucy, on some businessto Montreal, from whence you shall hear from me.
Adieu! Ed. Rivers.
LETTER 6.
To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Montreal, July 9.
I am arriv'd, my dear, and have brought my heart safe thro' such acontinued fire as never poor knight errant was exposed to; waited on atevery stage by blooming country girls, full of spirit and coquetry,without any of the village bashfulness of England, and dressed likethe shepherdesses of romance. A man of adventure might make a pleasantjourney to Montreal.
The peasants are ignorant, lazy, dirty, and stupid beyond allbelief; but hospitable, courteous, civil; and, what is particularlyagreeable, they leave their wives and daughters to do the honors of thehouse: in which obliging office they acquit themselves with anattention, which, amidst every inconvenience apparent (tho' I am toldnot real) poverty can cause, must please every guest who has a soulinclin'd to be pleas'd: for my part, I was charm'd with them, and eatmy homely fare with as much pleasure as if I had been feasting onortolans in a palace. Their conversation is lively and amusing; allthe little knowledge of Canada is confined to the sex; very few, evenof the seigneurs, being able to write their own names.
The road from Quebec to Montreal is almost a continued street, thevillages being numerous, and so extended along the banks of the riverSt. Lawrence as to leave scarce a space without houses in view; exceptwhere here or there a river, a wood, or mountain intervenes, as if togive a more pleasing variety to the scene. I don't remember ever havinghad a more agreeable journey; the fine prospects of the day soenliven'd by the gay chat of the evening, that I was really sorry whenI approach'd Montreal.
The island of Montreal, on which the town stands, is a very lovelyspot; highly cultivated, and tho' less wild and magnificent, moresmiling than the country round Quebec: the ladies, who seem to makepleasure their only business, and most of whom I have seen this morningdriving about the town in calashes, and making what they call, the_tour de la ville_, attended by English officers, seem generallyhandsome, and have an air of sprightliness with which I am charm'd; Imust be acquainted with them all, for tho' my stay is to be short, Isee no reason why it should be dull. I am told they are fond of littlerural balls in the country, and intend to give one as soon as I havepaid my respects in form.
Six in the evening.
I am just come from dining with the ---- regiment, and find I have avisit to pay I was not aware of, to two English ladies who are a fewmiles out of town: one of them is wife to the major of the regiment,and the other just going to be married to a captain in it, Sir GeorgeClayton, a young handsome baronet, just come to his title and a veryfine estate, by the death of a distant relation: he is at present atNew York, and I am told they are to be married as soon as he comesback.
Eight o'clock.
I have been making some flying visits to the French ladies; tho' Ihave not seen many beauties, yet in general the women are handsome;their manner is easy and obliging, they make the most of their charmsby their vivacity, and I certainly cannot be displeas'd with theirextreme partiality for the English officers; their own men, who indeedare not very attractive, have not the least chance for any share intheir good graces.
Thursday morning.
I am just setting out with a friend for Major Melmoth's, to pay mycompliments to the two ladies: I have no relish for this visit; I hatemisses that are going to be married; they are always so full of thedear man, that they have not common civility to other people. I am toldhowever both the ladies are agreeable.
14th. Eight in the evening.
Agreeable, Lucy! she is an angel: 'tis happy for me she is engag'd;nothing else could secure my heart, of which you know I am verytenacious: only think of finding beauty, delicacy, sensibility, allthat can charm in woman, hid in a wood in Canada!
You say I am given to be enthusiastic in my approbations, but she isreally charming. I am resolv'd not only to have a friendship for hermyself, but that _you_ shall, and have told her so; she comes toEngland as soon as she is married; you are form'd to love each other.
But I must tell you; Major Melmoth kept us a week at his house inthe country, in one continued round of rural amusements; by which I donot mean hunting and shooting, but such pleasures as the ladies couldshare; little rustic balls and parties round the neighbouring country,in which parties we were joined by all the fine women at Montreal. Mrs.Melmoth is a very pleasing, genteel brunette, but Emily Montague--youwill say I am in love with her if I describe her, and yet I declare toyou I am not: knowing she loves another, to whom she is soon to beunited, I see her charms with the same kind of pleasure I do yours; apleasure, which, tho' extremely lively, is by our situation without theleast mixture of desire.
I have said, she is charming; there are men here who do not thinkso, but to me she is loveliness itself. My ideas of beauty are perhapsa little out of the common road: I hate a woman of whom every mancoldly says, _she is handsome_; I adore beauty, but it is not meerfeatures or complexion to which I give that name; 'tis life,'tis spirit, 'tis animation, 'tis--in one word, 'tis EmilyMontague--without being regularly beautiful, she charms everysensible heart; all other women, however lovely, appear marble statuesnear her: fair; pale (a paleness which gives the idea of delicacywithout destroying that of health), with dark hair and eyes, thelatter large and languishing, she seems made to feel to a tremblingexcess the passion she cannot fail of inspiring: her elegant form hasan air of softness and languor, which seizes the whole soul in amoment: her eyes, the most intelligent I ever saw, hold you enchain'dby their bewitching sensibility.
There are a thousand unspeakable charms in her conversation; butwhat I am most pleas'd with, is the attentive politeness of her manner,which you seldom see in a person in love; the extreme desire ofpleasing one man generally taking off greatly from the attention due toall the rest. This is partly owing to her admirable understanding, andpartly to the natural softness of her soul, which gives her thestrongest desire of pleasing. As I am a philosopher in these matters,and have made the heart my study, I want extremely to see her with herlover, and to observe the gradual encrease of her charms in hispresence; love, which embellishes the most unmeaning countenance, mustgive to her's a fire irresistible: what eyes! when animated bytenderness!
The very soul acquires a new force and beauty by loving; a woman ofhonor never appears half so amiable, or displays half so many virtues,as when sensible to the merit of a man who deserves her affection.Observe, Lucy, I shall never allow you to be handsome till I hear youare in love.
Did I tell you Emily Montague had the finest hand and arm in theworld? I should however have excepted yours: her tone of voice too hasthe same melodious sweetness, a perfection without which the loveliestwoman could never make the least impression on my heart: I don't thinkyou are very unlike upon the whole, except that she is paler. You know,Lucy, you have often told me I should certainly have been in love withyou if I had not been your brother: this resemblance is a proof youwere right. You are really as handsome as any woman can be whosesensibility has never been put in motion.
I am to give a ball to-morrow; Mrs. Melmoth is to have the honors ofit, but as she is with child, she does not dance. This circumsta
nce hasproduc'd a dispute not a little flattering to my vanity: the ladies aremaking interest to dance with me; what a happy exchange have I made!what man of common sense would stay to be overlook'd in England, whocan have rival beauties contend for him in Canada? This importantpoint is not yet settled; the _etiquette_ here is rather difficultto adjust; as to me, I have nothing to do in the consultation; myhand is destin'd to the longest pedigree; we stand prodigiously on ournoblesse at Montreal.
Four o'clock.
After a dispute in which two French ladies were near drawing theirhusbands into a duel, the point of honor is yielded by both to MissMontague; each insisting only that I should not dance with the other:for my part, I submit with a good grace, as you will suppose.
Saturday morning.
I never passed a more agreeable evening: we have our amusementshere, I assure you: a set of fine young fellows, and handsome women,all well dress'd, and in humor with themselves, and with each other: mylovely Emily like Venus amongst the Graces, only multiplied to aboutsixteen. Nothing is, in my opinion, so favorable to the display ofbeauty as a ball. A state of rest is ungraceful; all nature is mostbeautiful in motion; trees agitated by the wind, a ship under sail, ahorse in the course, a fine woman dancing: never any human being hadsuch an aversion to still life as I have.
I am going back to Melmoth's for a month; don't be alarm'd, Lucy! Isee all her perfections, but I see them with the cold eye of admirationonly: a woman engaged loses all her attractions as a woman; there isno love without a ray of hope: my only ambition is to be her friend; Iwant to be the confidant of her passion. With what spirit such a mindas hers must love!