The History of Emily Montague

  My ideas of affection are perhaps uncommon; but they are not the lessjust, nor the less in nature.

  A blind man may as well judge of colors as the mass of mankind ofthe sentiments of a truly enamored heart.

  The sensual and the cold will equally condemn my affection asromantic: few minds, my dear Bell, are capable of love; they feelpassion, they feel esteem; they even feel that mixture of both which isthe best counterfeit of love; but of that vivifying fire, that livelytenderness which hurries us out of ourselves, they know nothing; thattenderness which makes us forget ourselves, when the interest, thehappiness, the honor, of him we love is concerned; that tendernesswhich renders the beloved object all that we see in the creation.

  Yes, my Rivers, I live, I breathe, I exist, for you alone: be happy,and your Emily is so.

  My dear friend, you know love, and will therefore bear with all theimpertinence of a tender heart.

  I hope you have by this time made Fitzgerald happy; he deserves you,amiable as you are, and you cannot too soon convince him of youraffection: you sometimes play cruelly with his tenderness: I have beenastonished to see you torment a heart which adores you.

  I am interrupted.

  Adieu! my dear Bell. Your affectionate Emily Montague.

  LETTER 167.

  To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

  Clarges Street, Aug. 1.

  Lord ---- not being in town, I went to his villa at Richmond, todeliver your letter.

  I cannot enough, my dear Sir, thank you for this introduction; Ipassed part of the day at Richmond, and never was more pleasinglyentertained.

  His politeness, his learning, his knowledge of the world, howeveramiable, are in character at his season of life; but his vivacity isastonishing.

  What fire, what spirit, there is in his conversation! I hardlythought myself a young man near him. What must he have been at five andtwenty?

  He desired me to tell you, all his interest should be employed forFitzgerald, and that he wished you to come to England as soon aspossible.

  We are just setting off for Temple's house in Rutland.

  Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 168.

  To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

  Temple-house, Aug. 4.

  I enjoy, my dear friend, in one of the pleasantest houses, and mostagreable situations imaginable, the society of the four persons in theworld most dear to me; I am in all respects as much at home as ifmaster of the family, without the cares attending that station; mywishes, my desires, are prevented by Temple's attention and friendship,and my mother and sister's amiable anxiety to oblige me; I find anunspeakable softness in seeing my lovely Emily every moment, in seeingher adored by my family, in seeing her without restraint, in being inthe same house, in living in that easy converse which is born fromfriendship alone: yet I am not happy.

  It is that we lose the present happiness in the pursuit of greater:I look forward with impatience to that moment which will make Emilymine; and the difficulties, which I see on every side arising, embitterhours which would otherwise be exquisitely happy.

  The narrowness of my fortune, which I see in a much stronger lightin this land of luxury, and the apparent impossibility of placing themost charming of women in the station my heart wishes, give meanxieties which my reason cannot conquer.

  I cannot live without her, I flatter myself our union is in somedegree necessary to her happiness; yet I dread bringing her intodistresses, which I am doubly obliged to protect her from, because shewould with transport meet them all, from tenderness to me.

  I have nothing which I can call my own, but my half-pay, and fourthousand pounds: I have lived amongst the first company in England; allmy connexions have been rather suited to my birth than fortune. Mymother presses me to resume my estate, and let her live with usalternately; but against this I am firmly determined; she shall haveher own house, and never change her manner of living.

  Temple would share his estate with me, if I would allow him; but Iam too fond of independence to accept favors of this kind even fromhim.

  I have formed a thousand schemes, and as often found them abortive;I go to-morrow to see our little estate, with my mother; it is aprivate party of our own, and nobody is in the secret; I will theretalk over every thing with her.

  My mind is at present in a state of confusion not to be expressed; Imust determine on something; it is improper Emily should continue longwith my sister in her present situation; yet I cannot live withoutseeing her.

  I have never asked about Emily's fortune; but I know it is a smallone; perhaps two thousand pounds; I am pretty certain, not more.

  We can live on little, but we must live in some degree on a genteelfooting: I cannot let Emily, who refused a coach and six for me, payvisits on foot; I will be content with a post-chaise, but cannot withless; I have a little, a very little pride, for my Emily.

  I wish it were possible to prevail on my mother to return with us toCanada: I could then reconcile my duty and happiness, which at presentseem almost incompatible.

  Emily appears perfectly happy, and to look no further than to thesituation in which we now are; she seems content with being my friendonly, without thinking of a nearer connexion; I am rather piqued at acomposure which has the air of indifference: why should not herimpatience equal mine?

  The coach is at the door, and my mother waits for me.

  Every happiness attend my friend, and all connected with him, inwhich number I hope I may, by this time, include Fitzgerald.

  Adieu! Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 169.

  To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

  Aug. 6.

  I have been taking an exact survey of the house and estate with mymother, in order to determine on some future plan of life.

  'Tis inconceivable what I felt on returning to a place so dear tome, and which I had not seen for many years; I ran hastily from oneroom to another; I traversed the garden with inexpressible eagerness:my eye devoured every object; there was not a tree, not a bush, whichdid not revive some pleasing, some soft idea.

  I felt, to borrow a very pathetic expression of Thomson's,

  "A thousand little tendernesses throb,"

  on revisiting those dear scenes of infant happiness; which wereincreased by having with me that estimable, that affectionate mother,to whose indulgence all my happiness had been owing.

  But to return to the purpose of our visit: the house is what mostpeople would think too large for the estate, even had I a right to callit all my own; this is, however, a fault, if it is one, which I caneasily forgive.

  There is furniture enough in it for my family, including my mother;it is unfashionable, but some of it very good: and I think Emily hastenderness enough for me to live with me in a house, the furniture ofwhich is not perfectly in taste.

  In short, I know her much above having the slightest wish of vanity,where it comes in competition with love.

  We can, as to the house, live here commodiously enough; and our onlypresent consideration is, on what we are to live: a consideration,however, which as lovers, I believe in strictness we ought to be muchabove!

  My mother again solicits me to resume this estate; and has proposedmy making over to her my half-pay instead of it, though of much lessvalue, which, with her own two hundred pounds a year, will, she says,enable her to continue her house in town, a point I am determined neverto suffer her to give up; because she loves London; and because Iinsist on her having her own house to go to, if she should ever chanceto be displeased with ours.

  I am inclined to like this proposal: Temple and I will make acalculation; and, if we find it will answer every necessary purpose tomy mother, I owe it to Emily to accept of it.

  I endeavor to persuade myself, that I am obliging my mother, bygiving her an opportunity of shewing her generosity, and of making mehappy: I have been in spirits ever since she mentioned it.

  I have already projected a
million of improvements; have taught newstreams to flow, planted ideal groves, and walked, fancy-led, in shadesof my own raising.

  The situation of the house is enchanting; and with all my passionfor the savage luxuriance of America, I begin to find my taste returnfor the more mild and regular charms of my native country.

  We have no Chaudieres, no Montmorencis, none of those magnificentscenes on which the Canadians have a right to pride themselves; but weexcel them in the lovely, the smiling; in enameled meadows, in wavingcorn-fields, in gardens the boast of Europe; in every elegant art whichadorns and softens human life; in all the riches and beauty whichcultivation can give.

  I begin to think I may be blest in the possession of my Emily,without betraying her into a state of want; we may, I begin to flattermyself, live with decency, in retirement; and, in my opinion, thereare a thousand charms in retirement with those we love.

  Upon the whole, I believe we shall be able to live, taking the word_live_ in the sense of lovers, not of the _beau monde_, who willnever allow a little country squire of four hundred pounds a year to_live_.

  Time may do more for us; at least, I am of an age and temper toencourage hope.

  All here are perfectly yours.

  Adieu! my dear friend, Your affectionate Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 170.

  To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

  Silleri, Aug. 6.

  The leave of absence for my father and Fitzgerald being come someweeks sooner than we expected, we propose leaving Canada in five or sixdays.

  I am delighted with the idea of revisiting dear England, and seeingfriends whom I so tenderly love: yet I feel a regret, which I had noidea I should have felt, at leaving the scenes of a thousand pastpleasures; the murmuring rivulets to which Emily and I have satlistening, the sweet woods where I have walked with my little circle offriends: I have even a strong attachment to the scenes themselves,which are infinitely lovely, and speak the inimitable hand of naturewhich formed them: I want to transport this fairy ground to England.

  I sigh when I pass any particularly charming spot; I feel atenderness beyond what inanimate objects seem to merit.

  I must pay one more visit to the naiads of Montmorenci.

  Eleven at night.

  I am just come from the general's assembly; where, I should havetold you, I was this day fortnight announced _Madame Fitzgerald_,to the great mortification of two or three cats, who had verysagaciously determined, that Fitzgerald had too much understanding everto think of such a flirting, coquetish creature as a wife.

  I was grave at the assembly to-night, in spite of all the pains Itook to be otherwise: I was hurt at the idea it would probably be_the last_ at which I should be; I felt a kind of concern at parting,not only with the few I loved, but with those who had till to-nightbeen indifferent to me.

  There is something affecting in the idea of _the last time_ ofseeing even those persons or places, for which we have no particularaffection.

  I go to-morrow to take leave of the nuns, at the Ursuline convent; Isuppose I shall carry this melancholy idea with me there, and be hurtat seeing them too _for the last time_.

  I pay visits every day amongst the peasants, who are very fond ofme. I talk to them of their farms, give money to their children, andteach their wives to be good huswives: I am the idol of the countrypeople five miles round, who declare me the most amiable, most generouswoman in the world, and think it a thousand pities I should be damned.

  Adieu! say every thing for me to my sweet friends, if arrived.

  7th, Eleven o'clock.

  I have this moment a large packet of letters for Emily from Mrs.Melmoth, which I intend to take the care of myself, as I hope to be inEngland almost as soon as this.

  Good morrow! Yours ever, &c. A. Fitzgerald.

  Three o'clock.

  I am just come from visiting the nuns; they expressed great concernat my leaving Canada, and promised me their prayers on my voyage; forwhich proof of affection, though a good protestant, I thanked them verysincerely.

  I wished exceedingly to have brought some of them away with me; mynun, as they call the amiable girl I saw take the veil, paid me theflattering tribute of a tear at parting; her fine eyes had a concern inthem, which affected me extremely.

  I was not less pleased with the affection the late superior, my goodold countrywoman, expressed for me, and her regret at seeing me _forthe last time_.

  Surely there is no pleasure on earth equal to that of being beloved!I did not think I had been such a favorite in Canada: it is almost apity to leave it; perhaps nobody may love me in England.

  Yes, I believe Fitzgerald will; and I have a pretty party enough offriends in your family.

  Adieu! I shall write a line the day we embark, by another ship,which may possibly arrive before us.

  LETTER 171.

  To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

  Silleri, Aug. 11.

  We embark to-morrow, and hope to see you in less than a month, ifthis fine wind continues.

  I am just come from Montmorenci, where I have been paying mydevotions to the tutelary deities of the place _for the last time_.

  I had only Fitzgerald with me; we visited every grotto on the lovelybanks, where we dined; kissed every flower, raised a votive altar onthe little island, poured a libation of wine to the river goddess; and,in short, did every thing which it became good heathens to do.

  We stayed till day-light began to decline, which, with the idea of_the last time_, threw round us a certain melancholy solemnity; asolemnity which

  "Deepen'd the murmur of the falling floods, And breath'd a browner horror on the woods."

  I have twenty things to do, and but a moment to do them in. Adieu!

  I am called down; it is to Madame Des Roches: she is very obligingto come thus far to see me.

  12th.

  We go on board at one; Madame Des Roches goes down with us as far asher estate, where her boat is to fetch her on shore. She has made me apresent of a pair of extreme pretty bracelets; has sent your brother anelegant sword-knot, and Emily a very beautiful cross of diamonds.

  I don't believe she would be sorry if we were to run away with herto England: I protest I am half inclined; it is pity such a womanshould be hid all her life in the woods of Canada: besides, one mightconvert her you know; and, on a religious principle, a littledeviation from rules is allowable.

  Your brother is an admirable missionary amongst unbelieving ladies:I really think I shall carry her off; if it is only for the good of hersoul.

  I have but one objection; if Fitzgerald should take a fancy toprefer the tender to the lively, I should be in some danger: there issomething very seducing in her eyes, I assure you.

  LETTER 172.

  To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

  Kamaraskas, Aug. 14.

  By Madame Des Roches, who is going on shore, I write two or threelines, to tell you we have got thus far, and have a fair wind; she willsend it immediately to Quebec, to be put on board any ship going, thatyou may have the greater variety of chances to hear of me.

  There is a French lady on board, whose superstition bids fair toamuse us; she has thrown half her little ornaments over-board for awind, and has promised I know not how many votive offerings of the samekind to St. Joseph, the patron of Canada, if we get safe to land; onwhich I shall only observe, that there is nothing so like ancientabsurdity as modern: she has classical authority for this manner ofplaying the fool. Horace, when afraid on a voyage, having, if my memoryquotes fair, vowed

  "His dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea."

  The boat is ready, and Madame Des Roches going; I am very unwillingto part with her; and her present concern at leaving me would be veryflattering, if I did not think the remembrance of your brother had thegreatest share in it.

  She has wrote four or five letters to him, since she came on board,very tender ones I fancy, and destroyed them; she has at last wrote ameer complimentary kind of card, only thanking
him for his offers ofservice; yet I see it gives her pleasure to write even this, howevercold and formal; because addressed to him: she asked me, if I thoughtthere was any impropriety in her writing to him, and whether it wouldnot be better to address herself to Emily. I smiled at her simplicity,and she finished her letter; she blushed and looked down when she gaveit me.

  She is less like a sprightly French widow, than a foolish Englishgirl, who loves for the first time.

  But I suppose, when the heart is really touched, the feelings of allnations have a pretty near resemblance: it is only that the Frenchladies are generally more coquets, and less inclined to the romanticstyle of love, than the English; and we are, therefore, surprized whenwe find in them this trembling sensibility.

  There are exceptions, however, to all rules; and your little Bellseems, in point of love, to have changed countries with Madame DesRoches.

  The gale encreases, it flutters in the sails; my fair friend issummoned; the captain chides our delay.

  Adieu! _ma chere Madame Des Roches_. I embrace her; I feel theforce of its being _for the last time_. I am afraid she feels ityet more strongly than I do: in parting with the last of his friends,she seems to part with her Rivers for ever.