There is little reason to boast of the virtues of a people, who aresuch brutal slaves to their appetites as to be unable to avoiddrinking brandy to an excess scarce to be conceived, whenever it fallsin their way, though eternally lamenting the murders and otheratrocious crimes of which they are so perpetually guilty when under itsinfluence.
It is unjust to say we have corrupted them, that we have taught thema vice to which we are ourselves not addicted; both French and Englishare in general sober: we have indeed given them the means ofintoxication, which they had not before their intercourse with us; buthe must be indeed fond of praising them, who makes a virtue of theirhaving been sober, when water was the only liquor with which they wereacquainted.
From all that I have observed, and heard of these people, it appearsto me an undoubted fact, that the most civilized Indian nations arethe most virtuous; a fact which makes directly against Rousseau's idealsystem.
Indeed all systems make against, instead of leading to, thediscovery of truth.
Pere Lafitau has, for this reason, in his very learned comparison ofthe manners of the savages with those of the first ages, given a veryimperfect account of Indian manners; he is even so candid as to own, hetells you nothing but what makes for the system he is endeavoring toestablish.
My wish, on the contrary, is not to make truth subservient to anyfavorite sentiment or idea, any child of my fancy; but to discover it,whether agreable or not to my own opinion.
My accounts may therefore be false or imperfect from mistake ormisinformation, but will never be designedly warped from truth.
That the savages have virtues, candor must own; but only a love ofparadox can make any man assert they have more than polished nations.
Your Lordship asks me what is the general moral character of theCanadians; they are simple and hospitable, yet extremely attentive tointerest, where it does not interfere with that laziness which is theirgoverning passion.
They are rather devout than virtuous; have religion withoutmorality, and a sense of honor without very strict honesty.
Indeed I believe wherever superstition reigns, the moral sense isgreatly weakened; the strongest inducement to the practice of moralityis removed, when people are brought to believe that a few outwardceremonies will compensate for the want of virtue.
I myself heard a man, who had raised a large fortune by veryindirect means, confess his life had been contrary to every precept ofthe Gospel; but that he hoped the pardon of Heaven for all his sins, ashe intended to devote one of his daughters to a conventual life as anexpiation.
This way of being virtuous by proxy, is certainly very easy andconvenient to such sinners as have children to sacrifice.
By Colonel Rivers, who leaves us in a few days, I intend myself thehonor of addressing your Lordship again.
I have the honor to be Your Lordship's, &c. Wm. Fermor.
LETTER 153.
To the Earl of ----.
Silleri, June 9.
Your Lordship will receive this from the hands of one of the mostworthy and amiable men I ever knew, Colonel Rivers, whom I amparticularly happy in having the honor to introduce to your Lordship,as I know your delicacy in the choice of friends, and that there are sofew who have your perfect esteem and confidence, that the acquaintanceof one who merits both, at his time of life, will be regarded, even byyour Lordship, as an acquisition.
'Tis to him I shall say the advantage I procure him, by making himknown to a nobleman, who, with the wisdom and experience of age, hasall the warmth of heart, the generosity, the noble confidence, theenthusiasm, the fire, and vivacity of youth.
Your Lordship's idea, in regard to Protestant convents here, on thefooting of that we visited together at Hamburgh, is extremely wellworth the consideration of those whom it may concern; especially if theRomish ones are abolished, as will most probably be the case.
The noblesse have numerous families, and, if there are no convents,will be at a loss where to educate their daughters, as well as where todispose of those who do not marry in a reasonable time: the conveniencethey find in both respects from these houses, is one strong motive tothem to continue in their ancient religion.
As I would however prevent the more useful, by which I mean thelower, part of the sex from entering into this state, I would wish onlythe daughters of the seigneurs to have the privilege of becoming nuns:they should be obliged, on taking the vow, to prove their noblesse forat least three generations; which would secure them respect, and, atthe same time, prevent their becoming too numerous.
They should take the vow of obedience, but not of celibacy; andreserve the power, as at Hamburgh, of going out to marry, though on noother consideration.
Your Lordship may remember, every nun at Hamburgh has a right ofmarrying, except the abbess; and that, on your Lordship's telling thelady who then presided, and who was young and very handsome, youthought this a hardship, she answered with great spirit, "O, my Lord,you know it is in my power to resign."
I refer your Lordship to Colonel Rivers for that farther informationin regard to this colony, which he is much more able to give you than Iam, having visited every part of Canada in the design of settling init.
I have the honor to be, My Lord, &c. Wm. Fermor.
Your Lordship's mention of nuns has brought to my memory a littleanecdote on this subject, which I will tell you.
I was, a few mornings ago, visiting a French lady, whose veryhandsome daughter, of almost sixteen, told me, she was going into aconvent. I enquired which she had made choice of: she said, "TheGeneral Hospital."
"I am glad, Mademoiselle, you have not chose the Ursulines; therules are so very severe, you would have found them hard to conformto."
"As to the rules, Sir, I have no objection to their severity; butthe habit of the General Hospital--"
I smiled.
"Is so very light--"
"And so becoming, Mademoiselle."
She smiled in her turn, and I left her fully convinced of thesincerity of her vocation, and the great propriety and humanity ofsuffering young creatures to chuse a kind of life so repugnant to humannature, at an age when they are such excellent judges of what will makethem happy.
LETTER 154.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, June 9.
I send this by your brother, who sails to-morrow.
Time, I hope, will reconcile me to his and Emily's absence; but atpresent I cannot think of losing them without a dejection of mind whichtakes from me the very idea of pleasure.
I conjure you, my dear Lucy, to do every thing possible tofacilitate their union; and remember, that to your request, and to Mrs.Rivers's tranquillity, they have sacrificed every prospect they had ofhappiness.
I would say more; but my spirits are so affected, I am incapable ofwriting.
Love my sweet Emily, and let her not repent the generosity of herconduct.
Adieu! your affectionate A. Fermor.
LETTER 155.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, June 10, Evening.
My poor Rivers! I think I felt more from his going than even fromEmily's: whilst he was here, I seemed not quite to have lost her: I nowfeel doubly the loss of both.
He begged me to shew attention to Madame Des Roches, who he assuredme merited my tenderest friendship; he wrote to her, and has left theletter open in my care: it is to thank her, in the most affectionateterms, for her politeness and friendship, as well to himself as to hisEmily; and to offer her his best services in England in regard to herestate, part of which some people here have very ungenerously appliedfor a grant of, on pretence of its not being all settled according tothe original conditions.
He owned to me, he felt some regret at leaving this amiable woman inCanada, and at the idea of never seeing her more.
I love him for this sensibility; and for his delicate attention toone whose disinterested affection for him most certainly deserves it.
Fitzgera
ld is below, he does all possible to console me for the lossof my friends; but indeed, Lucy, I feel their absence most severely.
I have an opportunity of sending your brother's letter to Madame DesRoches, which I must not lose, as they are not very frequent: 'tis bya French gentleman who is now with my father.
Adieu! your faithful, A. Fermor.
Twelve at night.
We have been talking of your brother; I have been saying, there isnothing I so much admire in him as that tenderness of soul, and almostfemale sensibility, which is so uncommon in a sex, whose wholeeducation tends to harden their hearts.
Fitzgerald admires his spirit, his understanding, his generosity,his courage, the warmth of his friendship.
My father his knowledge of the world; not that indiscriminatesuspicion of mankind which is falsely so called; but that clearness ofmental sight, and discerning faculty, which can distinguish virtue aswell as vice, wherever it resides.
"I also love in him," said my father, "that noble sincerity, thatintegrity of character, which is the foundation of all the virtues."
"And yet, my dear papa, you would have had Emily prefer to him, that_white curd of asses milk_, Sir George Clayton, whose highestclaim to virtue is the constitutional absence of vice, and who neverknew what it was to feel for the sorrows of another."
"You mistake, Bell: such a preference was impossible; but she wasengaged to Sir George; and he had also a fine fortune. Now, in thesedegenerate days, my dear, people must eat; we have lost all taste forthe airy food of romances, when ladies rode behind their enamoredknights, dined luxuriously on a banquet of haws, and quenched theirthirst at the first stream."
"But, my dear papa--"
"But my dear Bell--"
I saw the sweet old man look angry, so chose to drop the subject;but I do aver, now he is out of sight, that haws and a pillion, withsuch a noble fellow as your brother, are preferable to ortolans and acoach and six, with such a piece of still life and insipidity as SirGeorge.
Good night! my dear Lucy.
LETTER 156.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, June 17.
I have this moment received a packet of letters from my dear Lucy; Ishall only say, in answer to what makes the greatest part of them, thatin a fortnight I hope you will have the pleasure of seeing yourbrother, who did not hesitate one moment in giving up to Mrs. Rivers'speace of mind, all his pleasing prospects here, and the happiness ofbeing united to the woman he loved.
You will not, I hope, my dear, forget his having made such asacrifice: but I think too highly of you to say more on this subject.You will receive Emily as a friend, as a sister, who merits all youresteem and tenderness, and who has lost all the advantages of fortune,and incurred the censure of the world, by her disinterested attachmentto your brother.
I am extremely sorry, but not surprized, at what you tell me of poorLady H----. I knew her intimately; she was sacrificed at eighteen, bythe avarice and ambition of her parents, to age, disease, ill-nature,and a coronet; and her death is the natural consequence of her regret:she had a soul formed for friendship; she found it not at home; herelegance of mind, and native probity, prevented her seeking it abroad;she died a melancholy victim to the tyranny of her friends, thetenderness of her heart, and her delicate sense of honor.
If her father has any of the feelings of humanity left, what must henot suffer on this occasion?
It is a painful consideration, my dear, that the happiness or miseryof our lives are generally determined before we are proper judges ofeither.
Restrained by custom, and the ridiculous prejudices of the world, wego with the crowd, and it is late in life before we dare to think.
How happy are you and I, Lucy, in having parents, who, far fromforcing our inclinations, have not even endeavored to betray us intochusing from sordid motives! They have not labored to fill our younghearts with vanity or avarice; they have left us those virtues, thoseamiable qualities, we received from nature. They have painted to us thecharms of friendship, and not taught us to value riches above theirreal price.
My father, indeed, checks a certain excess of romance which there isin my temper; but, at the same time, he never encouraged my receivingthe addresses of any man who had only the gifts of fortune to recommendhim; he even advised me, when very young, against marrying an officerin his regiment, of a large fortune, but an unworthy character.
If I have any knowledge of the human heart, it will be my own faultif I am not happy with Fitzgerald.
I am only afraid, that when we are married, and begin to settle intoa calm, my volatile disposition will carry me back to coquetry: mypassion for admiration is naturally strong, and has been increased byindulgence; for without vanity I have been extremely the taste of themen.
I have a kind of an idea it won't be long before I try the strengthof my resolution, for I heard papa and Fitzgerald in high consultationthis morning.
Do you know, that, having nobody to love but Fitzgerald, I am tentimes more enamored of the dear creature than ever? My love is now likethe rays of the sun collected.
He is so much here, I wonder I don't grow tired of him; but somehowhe has the art of varying himself beyond any man I ever knew: it wasthat agreable variety of character that first struck me; I consideredthat with him I should have all the sex in one; he says the same of me;and indeed, it must be owned we have both an infinity of agreablecaprice, which in love affairs is worth all the merit in the world.
Have you never observed, Lucy, that the same person is seldomgreatly the object of both love and friendship?
Those virtues which command esteem do not often inspire passion.
Friendship seeks the more real, more solid virtues; integrity,constancy, and a steady uniformity of character: love, on the contrary,admires it knows not what; creates itself the idol it worships; findscharms even in defects; is pleased with follies, with inconsistency,with caprice: to say all in one line,
"Love is a child, and like a child he plays."
The moment Emily arrives, I entreat that one of you will write tome: no words can speak my impatience: I am equally anxious to hear ofmy dear Rivers. Heaven send them prosperous gales!
Adieu! Your faithful A. Fermor.
LETTER 157.
To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
Silleri, June 30.
You are extremely mistaken, my dear, in your idea of the societyhere; I had rather live at Quebec, take it for all in all, than in anytown in England, except London; the manner of living here is uncommonlyagreable; the scenes about us are lovely, and the mode of amusementsmake us taste those scenes in full perfection.
Whilst your brother and Emily were here, I had not a wish to leaveCanada; but their going has left a void in my heart, which will noteasily be filled up: I have loved Emily almost from childhood, andthere is a peculiar tenderness in those friendships, which
"Grow with our growth, and strengthen with our strength."
There was also something romantic and agreable in finding her here,and unexpectedly, after we had been separated by Colonel Montague'shaving left the regiment in which my father served.
In short, every thing concurred to make us dear to each other, andtherefore to give a greater poignancy to the pain of parting a secondtime.
As to your brother, I love him so much, that a man who had lesscandor and generosity than Fitzgerald, would be almost angry at my verylively friendship.
I have this moment a letter from Madame Des Roches; she laments theloss of our two amiable friends; begs me to assure them both of hereternal remembrance: says, "she congratulates Emily on possessing theheart of the man on earth most worthy of being beloved; that she cannotform an idea of any human felicity equal to that of the woman, thebusiness of whose life it is to make Colonel Rivers happy. That, heavenhaving denied her that happiness, she will never marry, nor enter intoan engagement which would make it criminal in her to remember him withtenderness: that it is, however, she beli
eves, best for her he hasleft the country, for that it is impossible she should ever have seenhim with indifference."
It is perhaps as prudent not to mention these circumstances eitherto your brother or Emily; I thought of sending her letter to them, butthere is a certain fire in her style, mixed with tenderness, when shespeaks of Rivers, which would only have given them both regret, bymaking them see the excess of her affection for him; her expressionsare much stronger than those in which I have given you the sense ofthem.
I intend to be very intimate with her, because she loves my dearRivers; she loves Emily too, at least she fancies she does, but I am alittle doubtful as to the friendships between rivals: at this distance,however, I dare say, they will always continue on the best termspossible, and I would have Emily write to her.
Do you know she has desired me to contrive to get her a picture ofyour brother, without his knowing it? I am not determined whether Ishall indulge her in this fancy or not; if I do, I must employ you asmy agent. It is madness in her to desire it; but, as there is apleasure in being mad, I am not sure my morality will let me refuseher, since pleasures are not very thick sown in this world.