Emily Montague.

In Four Volumes.

By the Author of
Lady Julia Mandeville.

A kind indulgent ſleep O’er works of length allowably may creep. Horace.

Vol. I.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall.

π1v A1r

Emily Montague.

Vol. I.

A1v A2r

Emily Montague.

In Four Volumes.

By the Author of
Lady Julia Mandeville.

A kind indulgent ſleep O’er works of length allowably may creep. Horace.

Vol. I.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall.

A2v A3r

To His Excellency Guy Carleton, Eſq. Governor and Commander in Chief of His Majeſty’s Province of Quebec &c. &c. &c.


As the ſcene of ſo great a part of the following work is laid in Canada, I flatter myſelf there is a peculiar propriety in addreſſing it to your excellency, to whoſe probity Vol. I. a3 and A3v vi and enlightened attention the colony owes its happineſs, and individuals that tranquillity of mind, without which there can be no exertion of the powers of either the underſtanding or imagination.

Were I to ſay all your excellency has done to diffuſe, through this province, ſo happy under your command, a ſpirit of loyalty and attachment to our excellent Sovereign, of chearful obedience to the laws, and of that union which makes the ſtrength of government, I ſhould hazard your eſteem by doing you juſtice.

I will, A4r vii

I will, therefore, only beg leave to add mine to the general voice of Canada; and to aſſure your excellency, that

I am, With the utmoſt eſteem and reſpect, Your moſt obedient ſervant,

Frances Brooke.


The History of Emily Montague.

Letter I.

To John Temple, Eſq; at Paris.

After spending two or three very agreeable days here, with a party of friends, in exploring the beauties of the Iſland, and dropping a tender tear at Vol. I. B Cariſ- B1v 2 Cariſbrook Caſtle on the memory of the unfortunate Charles the Firſt, I am juſt ſetting out for America, on a ſcheme I once hinted to you, of ſettling the lands to which I have a right as a lieutenant- colonel on half pay. On enquiry and mature deliberation, I prefer Canada to New York for two reaſons, that it is wilder, and that the women are handſomer: the firſt, perhaps, every body will not approve; the latter, I am ſure, you will.

You may perhaps call my project romantic, but my active temper is ill ſuited to the lazy character of a reduc’d officer; beſides that I am too proud to narrow my circle of life, and not quite unfeeling enough to break in on the little eſtate which is ſcarce ſufficient to ſupport my mother and ſiſter in the manner to which they have been accuſtom’d.

What you call a ſacrifice, is none at all; I love England, but am not obſtinately chain’d B2r 3 chain’d down to any ſpot of earth; nature has charms every where for a man willing to be pleaſed: at my time of life, the very change of place is amuſing; love of variety, and the natural reſtleſſneſs of man, would give me a reliſh for this voyage, even if I did not expect, what I really do, to become lord of a principality which will put our large-acred men in England out of countenance. My ſubjects indeed at preſent will be only bears and elks, but in time I hope to ſee the human face divine multiplying around me; and, in thus cultivating what is in the rudeſt ſtate of nature, I ſhall taſte one of the greateſt of all pleaſures, that of creation, and ſee order and beauty gradually riſe from chaos.

The veſſel is unmoor’d; the winds are fair; a gentle breeze agitates the boſom of the deep; all nature ſmiles: I go with all the eager hopes of a warm imagination;B2 tion: B2v 4 tion; yet friendſhip caſts a lingering look behind.

Our mutual loſs, my dear Temple, will be great. I ſhall never ceaſe to regret you, nor will you find it eaſy to replace the friend of your youth. You may find friends of equal merit; you may eſteem them equally; but few connexions form’d after five and twenty ſtrike root like that early ſympathy, which united us almoſt from infancy, and has increas’d to the very hour of our ſeparation.

What pleaſure is there in the friendſhips of the ſpring of life, before the world, the mean unfeeling ſelfiſh world, breaks in on the gay miſtakes of the juſt- expanding heart, which ſees nothing but truth, and has nothing but happineſs in proſpect!

I am not ſurpriz’d the heathens rais’d altars to friendſhip; ’twas natural for untaught3 taught B3r 5 taught ſuperſtition to deify the ſource of every good; they worſhip’d friendſhip, which animates the moral world, on the ſame principle as they paid adoration to the ſun, which gives life to the world of nature.

I am ſummon’d on board. Adieu!

Ed. Rivers.

Letter II.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihavethis moment your letter, my dear; I am happy to hear my mother has been amus’d at Bath, and not at all ſurpriz’d to find ſhe rivals you in your conqueſts. By the way, I am not ſure ſhe is not handſomer, notwithſtanding you tell B3 me B3v 6 me you are handſomer than ever: I am aſtoniſh’d ſhe will lead a tall daughter about with her thus, to let people into a ſecret they would never ſuſpect, that ſhe is paſt five and twenty.

You are a fooliſh girl, Lucy: do you think I have not more pleaſure in continuing to my mother, by coming hither, the little indulgencies of life, than I could have had by enjoying them myſelf? pray reconcile her to my abſence, and aſſure her ſhe will make me happier by jovially enjoying the trifle I have aſſign’d to her uſe, than by procuring me the wealth of a Nabob, in which ſhe was to have no ſhare.

But to return; you really, Lucy, aſk me ſuch a million of queſtions, ’tis impoſſible to know which to anſwer firſt; the country, the convents, the balls, the ladies, the beaux—’tis a hiſtory; not a letter, you demand,mand, B4r 7 mand, and it will take me a twelvemonth to ſatisfy your curioſity.

Where ſhall I begin? certainly with what muſt firſt ſtrike a ſoldier: I have ſeen then the ſpot where the amiable hero expir’d in the arms of victory; have traced him ſtep by ſtep with equal aſtoniſhment and admiration: ’tis here alone it is poſſible to form an adequate idea of an enterprize, the difficulties of which muſt have deſtroy’d hope itſelf had they been foreſeen.

The country is a very fine one; you ſee here not only the beautiful which it has in common with Europe, but the great ſublime to an amazing degree; every object here is magnificent: the very people ſeem almoſt another ſpecies, if we compare them with the French from whom they are deſcended.

B4 On B4v 8

On approaching the coaſt of America, I felt a kind of religious veneration, on ſeeing rocks which almoſt touch’d the clouds, cover’d with tall groves of pines that ſeemed coeval with the world itſelf: to which veneration the ſolemn ſilence not a little contributed; from Cape Roſieres, up the river St. Lawrence, during a courſe of more than two hundred miles, there is not the leaſt appearance of a human footſtep; no objects meet the eye but mountains, woods, and numerous rivers, which ſeem to roll their waters in vain.

It is impoſſible to behold a ſcene like this without lamenting the madneſs of mankind, who, more mercileſs than the fierce inhabitants of the howling wilderneſs, deſtroy millions of their own ſpecies in the wild contention for a little portion of that earth, the far greater part of which remains yet unpoſſeſt, and courts the hand of labour for cultivation.

The B5r 9

The river itſelf is one of the nobleſt in the world; it’s breadth is ninety miles at it’s entrance, gradually, and almoſt imperceptibly, decreaſing; interſpers’d with iſlands which give it a variety infinitely pleaſing, and navigable near five hundred miles from the ſea.

Nothing can be more ſtriking than the view of Quebec as you approach; it ſtands on the ſummit of a boldly-riſing hill, at the confluence of two very beautiful rivers, the St. Lawrence and St. Charles, and, as the convents and other public buildings firſt meet the eye, appears to great advantage from the port. The iſland of Orleans, the diſtant view of the caſcade of Montmorenci, and the oppoſite village of Beauport, ſcattered with a pleaſing irregularity along the banks of the river St. Charles, add greatly to the charms of the proſpect.

B5 I have B5v 10

I have juſt had time to obſerve, that the Canadian ladies have the vivacity of the French, with a ſuperior ſhare of beauty: as to balls and aſſemblies, we have none at preſent, it being a kind of interregnum of government: if I choſe to give you the political ſtate of the country, I could fill volumes with the pours and the contres; but I am not one of thoſe ſagacious obſervers, who, by ſtaying a week in place, think themſelves qualified to give, not only its natural, but it’s moral and political hiſtory: beſides which, you and I are rather too young to be very profound politicians. We are in expectation of a ſucceſſor from whom we hope a new golden age; I ſhall then have better ſubjects for a letter to a lady.

Adieu! my dear girl! ſay every thing for me to my mother. Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Let- B6r 11

Letter III.

To Col. Rivers, at Quebec.

Indeed gone to people the wilds of America, Ned, and multiply the human face divine? ’tis a project worthy a tall handſome colonel of twenty ſeven: let me ſee; five feet, eleven inches, well made, with fine teeth, ſpeaking eyes, a military air, and the look of a man of faſhion: ſpirit, generoſity, a good underſtanding, ſome knowledge, an eaſy addreſs, a compaſſionate heart, a ſtrong inclination for the ladies, and in ſhort every quality a gentleman ſhould have: excellent all theſe for colonization: prenez garde, mes cheres dames. You have nothing againſt you, Ned, but your modeſty; a very uſeleſs virtue on French ground, or indeed on any ground: I wiſh you had a little more B6 con- B6v 12 conſciouſneſs of your own merits: remember that to know one’s ſelf the oracle of Apollo has pronounced to be the perfection of human wiſdom. Our fair friend Mrs. H— ſays, Colonel Rivers wants nothing to make him the moſt agreeable man breathing but a little daſh of the coxcomb.

For my part, I hate humility in a man of the world; ’tis worſe than even the hypocriſy of the ſaints: I am not ignorant, and therefore never deny, that I am a very handſome fellow; and I have the pleaſure to find all the women of the ſame opinion.

I am juſt arriv’d from Paris: the divine Madame De―― is as lovely and as conſtant as ever; ’twas cruel to leave her, but who can account for the caprices of the heart? mine was the prey of a young unexperienc’d Engliſh charmer, juſt come out of a convent, The bloom of opening flowers— Ha, B7r 13 Ha, Ned? But I forget; you are for the full-blown roſe: ’tis a happineſs, as we are friends, that ’tis impoſſible we can ever be rivals; a woman is grown out of my taſte ſome years before ſhe comes up to yours: abſolutely, Ned, you are too nice; for my part, I am not ſo delicate; youth and beauty are ſufficient for me; give me blooming ſeventeen, and I cede to you the whole empire of ſentiment.

This, I ſuppoſe, will find you trying the force of your deſtructive charms on the ſavage dames of America; chaſing females wild as the winds thro’ woods as wild as themſelves: I ſee you purſuing the ſtately relict of ſome renown’d Indian chief, ſome plump ſquaw arriv’d at the age of ſentiment, ſome warlike queen dowager of the Ottawas or Tuſcaroras.

And pray, comment trouvez vous les dames ſauvages? all pure and genuine nature, I ſuppoſe; none of the affected coyneſsneſs B7v 14 neſs of Europe: your attention there will be the more obliging, as the Indian heroes, I am told, are not very attentive to the charms of the beau ſexe.

You are very ſentimental on the ſubject of friendſhip; no one has more exalted notions of this ſpecies of affection than myſelf, yet I deny that it gives life to the moral world; a gallant man, like you, might have found a more animating principle: O Venus! O Mere de l’Amour!

I am moſt gloriouſly indolent this morning, and would not write another line if the empire of the world (obſerve I do not mean the female world) depended on it.


J. Temple.

Let B8r 15

Letter IV.

To John Temple, Esq. Pall Mall.

’Tis very true, Jack; I have no reliſh for the Miſſes; for puling girls in hanging ſleeves, who feel no paſſion but vanity, and, without any diſtinguiſhing taſte, are dying for the firſt man who tells them they are handſome. Take your boardingſchool girls; but give me a woman; one, in ſhort, who has a ſoul; not a cold inamnimate form, inſenſible to the lively impreſſions of real love, and unfeeling as the wax baby ſhe has juſt thrown away.

You will allow Prior to be no bad judge of female merit; and you may remember his Egyptian maid, the favorite of 1 the B8v 16 the luxurious King Solomon, is painted in full bloom.

By the way, Jack, there is generally a certain hoity-toity inelegance of form and manner at ſeventeen, which in my opinion is not balanc’d by freſhneſs of complexion, the only advantage girls have to boaſt of.

I have another objection to girls, which is, that they will eternally fancy every man they converſe with has deſigns; a coquet and a prude in the bud are equally diſagreeable; the former expects univerſal adoration, the latter is alarm’d even at that general civility which is the right of all their ſex; of the two however the laſt is, I think, much the moſt troubleſome; I wiſh theſe very apprehenſive young ladies knew, their virtue is not half ſo often in danger as they imagine, and that there are many male creatures to whom they may ſafely ſhew B9r 17 ſhew politeneſs without being drawn into any conceſſions inconſiſtent with the ſtricteſt honor. We are not half ſuch terrible animals as mammas, nurſes, and novels repreſent us; and, if my opinion is of any weight, I am inclin’d to believe thoſe tremendous men, who have deſigns on the whole ſex, are, and ever were, characters as fabulous as the giants of romance.

Women after twenty begin to know this, and therefore converſe with us on the footing of rational creatures, without either fearing or expecting to find every man a lover.

To do the ladies juſtice however, I have ſeen the ſame abſurdity in my own ſex, and have obſerved many a very good ſort of man turn pale at the politeneſs of an agreeable woman.

I lament B9v 18

I lament this miſtake, in both ſexes, becauſe it takes greatly from the pleaſure of mix’d ſociety, the only ſociety for which I have any reliſh.

Don’t, however, fancy that, becaſe I diſlike the Miſſes, I have a taſte for their grandmothers; there is a golden mean, Jack, of which you ſeem to have no idea.

You are very ill inform’d as to the manners of the Indian ladies; ’tis in the bud alone theſe wild roſes are acceſſible; liberal to profuſion of their charms before marriage, they are chaſtity itſelf after: the moment they commence wives, they give up the very idea of pleaſing, and turn all their thoughts to the cares, and thoſe not the moſt delicate cares, of domeſtic life: laborious, hardy, active, they plough the ground, they ſow, they reap; whilſt the haughty B10r 19 haughty huſband amuſes himſelf with hunting, ſhooting, fiſhing, and ſuch exerciſes only as are the image of war; all other employments being, according to his idea, unworthy the dignity of man.

I have told you the labors of ſavage life, but I ſhould obſerve that they are only temporary, and when urg’d by the ſharp tooth of neceſſity: their lives are, upon the whole, idle beyond any thing we can conceive. If the Epicurean definition of happineſs is juſt, that it conſiſts in indolence of body, and tranquillity of mind, the Indians of both ſexes are the happieſt people on earth; free from all care, they enjoy the preſent moment, forget the paſt, and are without ſolicitude for the future: in ſummer, ſtretch’d on the verdant turf, they ſing, they laugh, they play, they relate ſtories of their ancient heroes to warm the youth to war; in winter, wrap’d in the furs B10v 20 furs which bounteous nature provides them, they dance, they feaſt, and deſpiſe the rigors of the ſeaſon, at which the more effeminate Europeans tremble.

War being however the buſineſs of their lives, and the firſt paſſion of their ſouls, their very pleaſures take their colors from it: every one muſt have heard of the war dance, and their ſongs are almoſt all on the ſame ſubject: on the moſt diligent enquiry, I find but one love ſong in their language, which is ſhort and ſimple, tho’ perhaps not inexpreſſive: I love you, I love you dearly, I love you all day long. An old Indian told me, they had alſo ſongs of friendſhip, but I could never procure a tranſlation of one of them: on my preſſing this B11r 21 this Indian to tranſlate one into French for me, he told me with a haughty air, the Indians were not us’d to make tranſlations, and that if I choſe to underſtand their ſongs I muſt learn their language. By the way, their language is extremely harmonious, eſpecially as pronounced by their women, and as well adapted to muſic as Italian itſelf. I muſt not here omit an inſtance of their independent ſpirit, which is, that they never would ſubmit to have the ſervice of the church, tho’ they profeſs the Romiſh religion, in any language but their own; the women, who have in general fine voices, ſing in the choir with a taſte and manner that would ſurprize you, and with a devotion that might edify more poliſh’d nations.

The Indian women are tall and well ſhaped; have good eyes, and before marriage are, except their color, and their coarſe B11v 22 coarſe greaſy black hair, very far from being diſagreeable; but the laborious life they afterwards lead is extremely unfavorable to beauty; they become coarſe and maſculine, and loſe in a year or two the power as well as the deſire of pleaſing. To compenſate however for the loſs of their charms, they acquire a new empire in marrying; are conſulted in all affairs of ſtate, chuſe a chief on every vacancy of the throne, are ſovereign arbiters of peace and war, as well as of the fate of thoſe unhappy captives that have the misfortune to fall into their hands, who are adopted as children, or put to the moſt cruel death, as the wives of the conquerors ſmile or frown.

A Jeſuit miſſionary told me a ſtory on this ſubject, which one cannot hear without horror: an Indian woman with whom he liv’d on his miſſion was feeding her children, when her huſband brought in an Engliſh B12r 23 English priſoner; ſhe immediately cut off his arm, and gave her children the ſtreaming blood to drink: the Jeſuit remonſtrated on the cruelty of the action, on which, looking ſternly at him, I would have them warriors, ſaid ſhe, and therefore feed them with the food of men.

This anecdote may perhaps diſguſt you with the Indian ladies, who certainly do not excel in female ſoftneſs. I will therefore turn to the Canadian, who have every charm except that without which all other charms are to me inſipid, I mean ſenſibility: they are gay, coquet, and ſprightly; more gallant than ſenſible, more flatter’d by the vanity of inſpiring paſſion, than capable of feeling it themſelves; and, like their European countrywomen, prefer the outward attentions of unmeaning admiration to the real devotion of the heart. There is not perhaps on earth a race of females, who talk ſo much, or feel ſo little, of love as the French; the very reverſe is in generalral B12v 24 ral true of the Engliſh: my fair countrywomen ſeem aſhamed of the charming ſentiment to which they are indebted for all their power.

Adieu! I am going to attend a very handſome French lady, who allows me 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, with pretty women in them, parading every evening: you will allow the apology to be admiſſible.

Ed. Rivers.

Let- C1r 25

Letter V.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

What an inconſtant animal is man! do you know, Lucy, I begin to be tir’d of the lovely landſcape round me? I have enjoy’d from it all the pleaſure meer inanimate objects can give, and find ’tis a pleaſure that ſoon ſatiates, if not relieved by others which are more lively. The ſcenery is to be ſure divine, but one grows weary of meer ſcenery: the moſt enchanting proſpect ſoon loſes its power of pleaſing, when the eye is accuſtom’d to it: we gaze at firſt tranſported on the charms of nature, and fancy they will pleaſe for ever; but, alas! it will not do; we ſigh for ſociety, the converſation of thoſe dear to us; the more animated pleaſures of the heart. There are fine women, and men of merit Vol. I C here; C1v 26 here; but, as the affections are not in our power, I have not yet felt my heart gravitate towards any of them. I muſt abſolutely ſet in earneſt about my ſettlement, in order to emerge from the ſtate of vegetation into which I ſeem falling.

But to your laſt: you aſk me a particular account of the convents here. Have you an inclination, my dear, to turn nun? if you have, you could not have applied to a properer perſon; my extreme modeſty and reſerve, and my ſpeaking French, having made me already a great favourite with the older part of all the three communities, who unanimouſly declare colonel Rivers to be un tres aimable homme, and have given me an unlimited liberty of viſiting them whenever I pleaſe: they now and then treat me with a ſight of ſome of the young ones, but this is a favor not allow’d to all the world.

There C2r 27

There are three religious houſes at Quebec, ſo you have choice; the Urſulines, the Hotel Dieu, and the General Hoſpital. The firſt is the ſevereſt order in the Romiſh church, except that very cruel one which denies its fair votaries the ineſtimable liberty of ſpeech. The houſe is large and handſome, but has an air of gloomineſs, with which the black 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 an Engliſh-woman of good family, who was taken priſoner by the ſavages when 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 in her countenance which inſpires all who ſee her with affection: I am very fond of her converſation, tho’ ſixty and a nun.

C2 The C2v 28

The Hotel Dieu is very pleaſantly ſituated, with a view of the two rivers, and the entrance of the port: the houſe is chearful, airy, and agreeable; the habit extremely becoming, a circumſtance a handſome woman ought by no means to overlook; ’tis white with a black gauze veil, which would ſhew your complexion to great advantage. The order is much 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 are ſprightly, and have a look of health which is wanting at the Urſulines.

The General Hoſpital, ſituated about a mile out of town, on the borders of the river St. Charles, is much the moſt agreeable of the three. This order and the habit are the ſame with the Hotel Dieu, except that to the habit is added the croſs, generally worn in Europe by canoneſſes only: a diſtinction procur’d for them by their C3r 29 their founder, St. Vallier, the ſecond biſhop of Quebec. The houſe is, without, a very noble building; and neatneſs, elegance and propriety reign within. The nuns, who are all of the nobleſſe, are many of them handſome, and all genteel, lively, and well bread; they have an air of the world, their converſation is eaſy, ſpirited, and polite: with them you almoſt forget the recluſe in the woman of condition. In ſhort, you have the beſt nuns at the Urſulines, the moſt agreeable women at the General Hoſpital: all however have an air of chagrin, which they in vain endeavour to conceal; and the general eagerneſs with which they tell you 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’ willing to allow all the world to play the fool their own way, yet I cannot help C3 being C3v 30 being fir’d with a degree of zeal againſt an inſtitution equally incompatible with public good, and private happineſs; an inſtitution which cruelly devotes beauty and innocence to ſlavery, regret, and wretchedneſs; to a more irkſome impriſonment than the ſevereſt laws inflict on the worſt of criminals.

Could any thing but experience, my dear Lucy, make it be believ’d poſſible that there ſhould be rational beings, who think they are ſerving the God of mercy by inflicting on themſelves voluntary tortures, and cutting themſelves off from that ſtate of ſociety in which he has plac’d them, and for which they were form’d? by renouncing the beſt affections of the human heart, the tender names of friend, of wife, of mother? and, as far as in them lies, counterworking creation? by ſpurning from them every amuſement however innocent, by refuſing the gifts of that beneficent power who C4r 31 who made us to be happy, and deſtroying his moſt precious gifts, health, beauty, ſenſibility, chearfulneſs, and peace!

My indignation is yet awake, from having ſeen a few days ſince at the Urſulines, an extreme lovely young girl, whoſe countenance ſpoke a ſoul form’d for the moſt lively, yet delicate, ties of love and friendſhip, led by a momentary enthuſiaſm, or perhaps by a childiſh vanity artfully excited, to the foot of thoſe altars, which ſhe will probably too ſoon bathe with the bitter tears of repentance and remorſe.

The ceremony, form’d to ſtrike the imagination, and ſeduce the heart of unguarded youth, is extremely ſolemn and affecting; the proceſſion of the nuns, the ſweetneſs of their voices in the choir, the dignified devotion with which the charming enthuſiaſt received the veil, and took the cruel vow which ſhut her from the world for ever, ſtruck my heart inſpite of my reaſon, and C4 I felt C4v 32 I felt myſelf touch’d even to tears by a ſuperſtition I equally pity and deſpiſe.

I am not however certain it was the ceremony which affected me thus ſtrongly; it was impoſſible not to feel for this amiable victim; never was there an object more intereſting; her form was elegance itſelf; her air and motion animated and graceful; the glow of pleaſure was on her cheek, the fire of enthuſiaſm in her eyes, which are the fineſt I ever ſaw: never did I ſee joy ſo livelily painted on the countenance of the happieſt bride; ſhe ſeem’d to walk in air; her whole perſon look’d more than human.

An enemy to every ſpecies of ſuperſtition, I muſt however allow it to be leaſt deſtructive to true virtue in your gentle ſex, and therefore to be indulg’d with leaſt danger: the ſuperſtition of men is gloomy and ferocious; it lights the fire, and points the dagger of the aſſaſſin; whilſt that of womenmen C5r 33 men 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 the Urſuline convent, Madame de la Peltrie, to whom the very colony in ſome meaſure owes its exiſtence? young, rich and lovely; a widow in the bloom of life, miſtreſs of her own actions, the world was gay before her, yet ſhe left all the pleaſures that world could give, to devote her 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 ſavage people; ſhe landed on an unknown ſhore, ſubmitted to the extremities of cold and heat, of thirſt and hunger, to perform a ſervice ſhe thought acceptable to the Deity. To an action like this, however miſtaken the motive, bigotry alone will deny praiſe: the man of candor will only lament that minds C5 capable C5v 34 capable of ſuch heroic virtue are not directed to views more conducive to their own and general happineſs.

I am unexpectedly call’d this moment, my dear Lucy, on ſome buſineſs to Montreal, from whence you ſhall hear from me.


Ed. Rivers.

Letter VI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iam arrived, my dear, and have brought my heart ſafe thro’ ſuch a continued fire as never poor knight errant was expoſed to; waited on at every ſtage by blooming country girls, full of ſpirit and coquetry, without any of the village baſhfulneſs of England, C6r 35 England, and dreſſed like the ſhepherdeſſes of romance. A man of adventure might make a pleaſant journey to Montreal.

The peaſants are ignorant, lazy, dirty, and ſtupid beyond all belief; but hoſpitable, courteous, civil; and, what is particularly agreeable, they leave their wives and daughters to do the honors of the houſe: in which obliging office they acquit themſelves with attention, which, amidſt every inconvenience apparent (tho’ I am told not real) poverty can cauſe, muſt pleaſe every gueſt who has a ſoul inclin’d to be pleas’d: for my part, I was charm’d with them, and eat my homely fare with as much pleaſure as if I had been feaſting on ortolans in a palace. Their converſation is lively and amuſing; all the little knowledge of Canada is confined to the ſex; very few, even of the ſeigneurs, being able to write their own names.

C6 The C6v 36

The road from Quebec to Montreal is almoſt a continued ſtreet, the villages being numerous, and ſo extended along the banks of the river St. Lawrence as to leave ſcarce a ſpace without houſes in view; except where here or there a river, a wood, or mountain intervenes, as if to give a more pleaſing variety to the ſcene. I don’t remember ever having had a more agreeable journey; the fine proſpects of the day ſo enliven’d by the gay chat of the evening, that I was really ſorry when I approach’d Montreal.

The iſland of Montreal, on which the town ſtands, is a very lovely ſpot; highly cultivated, and tho’ leſs wild and magnificent, more ſmiling than the country round Quebec: the ladies, who ſeem to make pleaſure their only buſineſs, and moſt of whom I have ſeen this morning driving about in town in calaſhes, and making 3 what C7r 37 what they call, the tour de la ville, attended by Engliſh officers, ſeem generally handſome, and have an air of ſprightlineſs with which I am charm’d; I muſt be acquainted with them all, for tho’ my ſtay is to be ſhort, I ſee no reaſon why it ſhould be dull. I am told they are fond of little rural balls in the country, and intend to give one as ſoon as I have paid my reſpects in form.

I am juſt come from dining with the — regiment, and find I have a viſit to pay I was not aware of, to two Engliſh ladies who are a few miles 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 George Clayton, a young handſome baronet, juſt come to his title and a very fine eſtate, by the death of a diſtant relation: he is at preſent at New York, and I am told they are to be married as ſoon as he comes back.

I have C7v 38

I have been making ſome flying viſits to the French ladies; tho’ I have not ſeen many beauties, yet in general the women are handſome; their manner is eaſy and obliging, they make the moſt of their charms by their vivacity, and I certainly cannot be diſpleas’d with their extreme partiality for the Engliſh officers; their own men, who indeed are not very attractive, have not the leaſt chance for any ſhare in their good graces.

I am juſt ſetting out with a friend for Major Melmoth’s, to pay my compliments to the two ladies: I have no reliſh for this viſit; I hate miſſes that are going to be married; they are always ſo full of the dear man, that they have no common civility to other people. I am told, however both the ladies are agreeable.

Agreeable, C8r 39

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 very tenacious: only think of finding beauty, delicacy, ſenſibility, all that can charm in woman, hid in a wood in Canada!

You ſay I am given to be enthuſiaſtic in my approbations, but ſhe is really charming. I am reſolv’d not only to have a friendſhip for her myſelf, but that you ſhall, and have told her ſo; ſhe comes to England 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 in the country, in one continued round of rural amuſements; by which I do not mean hunting and ſhooting, but ſuch pleaſures as the ladies C8v 40 ladies could ſhare; 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—you will ſay I am in love with her if I deſcribe her, and yet I declare to you I am not: knowing ſhe loves another, to whom ſhe is ſoon to be united, I ſee her charms with the ſame kind of pleaſure I do yours; a pleaſure, which, tho’ extremely lively, is by our ſituation without the leaſt mixture of deſire.

I have ſaid, ſhe is charming; there are men here who do not think ſo, but to me ſhe is lovelineſs itſelf. My ideas of beauty are perhaps a little out of the common road: I hate a woman of whom every man coldly ſays, ſhe is handſome; I adore beauty, but it is not meer features or complexion to which I give that name; ’tis life, ’tis ſpirit, ’tis animation, ’tis—in one word, ’tis Emily Montague—without being regularlygularly C9r 41 gularly beautiful, ſhe charms every ſenſible heart; all other women, however lovely, appear marble ſtatues near her: fair; pale (a paleneſs which gives the idea of delicacy without deſtroying that of health), with dark hair and eyes, the latter large and languiſhing, ſhe ſeems made to feel to a trembling exceſs the paſſion ſhe cannot fail of inſpiring: her elegant form has an air of ſoftneſs and languor, which ſeizes the whole ſoul in a moment: her eyes, the moſt intelligent I ever ſaw, hold you enchain’d by their bewitching ſenſibility.

There are a thouſand unſpeakable charms in her converſation; but what 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 of pleaſing one man generally taking off greatly from the attention due to all the reſt. This is partly owing to her admirable underſtanding, and partly to the natural ſoftneſsneſs C9v 42 neſs of her ſoul, which gives her the ſtrongeſt 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 her lover, and to obſerve the gradual encreaſe of her charms in his preſence; love, which embelliſhes the moſt unmeaning countenance, muſ t give to her’s a fire irreſiſtible: what eyes! when animated by tenderneſs!

The very ſoul acquires a new force and beauty by loving; a woman of honor 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 you are in love.

Did I tell you Emily Montague had the fineſt hand and arm in the world? I ſhould however have excepted yours: her tone of voice too has the ſame melodious ſweetneſs, a per- C10r 43 a perfection without which the lovelieſt woman could never make the leaſt impreſſion on my heart: I don’t think you 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 with you if I had not been your brother: this reſemblance is a proof you were right. You are really as handſome as any woman can be whoſe ſenſibility has never been put in motion.

I am to give a ball to-morrow; Mrs. Melmoth is to have the honors of it, but as ſhe is with child, ſhe does not dance. This circumſtance has produc’d a diſpute not a little flattering to my vanity: the ladies are making 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, who can have rival beauties contend for him in Canada? This important point is not yet ſettled; the etiquette here is rather difficult to adjuſt; as C10v 44 as to me, I have nothing to do in the conſultation; my hand is deſtin’d to be the longeſt pedigree; we ſtand prodigiouſly on our nobleſſe at Montreal.

After a diſpute in which two French ladies were near drawing their huſbands into a duel, the point of honor is yielded by both to Miſs Montague; each inſiſting only that I ſhould not dance with the other: for my part, I ſubmit with a good grace, as you will ſuppoſe.

I never paſſed a more agreeable evening: we have our amuſements here, 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: my lovely Emily like Venus amongſt the Graces, only multiplied to about ſixteen. Nothing is, in my C11r 45 my opinion, ſo favorable to the diſplay of beauty as a ball. A ſtate of reſt is ungraceful; all nature is moſt beautiful in motion; trees agitated by the wind, a ſhip under ſail, a horſe in the courſe, a fine woman dancing: never any human being had ſuch an averſion to ſtill life as I have.

I am going back to Melmoth’s for a month; don’t be alarm’d, Lucy! I ſee all her perfections, but I ſee them with the cold eye of admiration only: a woman engaged loſes all her attractions as a woman; there is no love without a ray of hope: my only ambition is to be her friend; I want to be the confidant of her paſſion. With what ſpirit ſuch a mind as hers muſt love!

Adieu! my dear! Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Let- C11v 46

Letter VII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

By Heavens, Lucy; this is more than man can bear; I was mad to ſtay ſo long at Melmoth’s; there is no reſiſting this little ſeducer: ’tis ſhameful in ſuch a lovely woman to have underſtanding too; yet even this I could forgive, had ſhe not that enchanting ſoftneſs in her manner, which ſteals upon the ſoul, and would almoſt make uglineſs itſelf charm; were ſhe but vain, one had ſome chance, but ſhe will take upon her to have no conſciouſneſs, at leaſt no apparent conſciouſneſs, of her perfections, which is really intolerable. I told her ſo laſt night, when ſhe put on ſuch a malicious ſmile—I believe the little tyrant wants to add me to the liſt of her ſlaves; but I was not form’d to fill up a train. The 2 woman C12r 47 woman I love muſt be ſo far from giving another the preference, that ſhe muſt have no ſoul but for me; I am one of the moſt unreaſonable men in the world on this head; ſhe may fancy what ſhe pleaſes, but I ſet her and all her attractions at defiance: I have made my eſcape, and ſhall ſet off for Quebec in an hour. Flying is, I muſt acknowledge, a little out of character, and unbecoming a ſoldier; but in theſe caſes it is the very beſt thing man or woman either can do, when they doubt their powers of reſiſtance.

I intend to be ten days going to Quebec. I propoſe viſiting the prieſts at every village, and endeavouring to get ſome knowledge of the nature of the country, in order to my intended ſettlement. Idleneſs being the root of all evil, and the nurſe of love, I am determin’d to keep myſelf employed; nothing can be better ſuited to my temper than my preſent deſign; the pleaſure of cultivating lands here is as much ſuperior C12v 48 ſuperior to what can be found in the ſame employment in England, as watching the expanding roſe, and beholding the falling leaves: America is in infancy, Europe in old age. Nor am I very ill qualified for this agreeable talk: I have ſtudied the Georgicks, and am a pretty enough kind of a huſbandman as far as theory goes; nay, I am not ſure I ſhall not be, even in practice, the beſt gentleman farmer in the province.

You may expect ſoon to hear of me in the Muſeum Ruſticum; I intend to make amazing diſcoveries in the rural way: I have already found out, by the force of my own genius, two very uncommon circumſtances; that in Canada, contrary to what we ſee every where elſe, the country is rich, the capital poor; the hills fruitful, the vallies barren. You ſee what excellent diſpoſitions I have to be an uſeful member of ſociety: I had always a ſtrong biaſs to the ſtudy of natural philoſophy.

Tell D1r 49

Tell my mother how well I am employ’d, and ſhe cannot but approve my voyage: aſſure her, my dear, of my tendereſt regard.

The chaiſe is at the door. Adieu!

Ed. Rivers.

The lover is every hour expected; I am not quite ſure I ſhould have lik’d to ſee him arrive: a third perſon, you know, on ſuch an occaſion, ſinks into nothing; and I love, wherever I am, to be one of the figures which ſtrike the eye; I hate to appear on the back ground of the picture.

Vol. I. D Let- D1v 50

Letter VIII.

To Miſs Rivers.

You can’t think, my dear, what a fund of uſeful knowledge I have treaſur’d up during my journey from Montreal. This colony is a rich mine yet unopen’d; I do not mean of gold and ſilver, but of what are of much more real value, corn and cattle. Nothing is wanting but encouragement and cultivation; the Canadians are at their eaſe even without labor; nature is here a bounteous mother, who pours forth her gifts almoſt unſolicited: bigotry, ſtupidity, and lazineſs, united, have not been able to keep the peaſantry poor. I rejoice to find ſuch admirable capabilities where I propoſe to fix my dominion.

I was D2r 51

I was hoſpitably entertained by the cures all the way down, tho’ they are in general but ill provided for: the parochial clergy are uſeful every where, but I have a great averſion to monks, thoſe drones in the political hive, whoſe whole ſtudy ſeems to be to make themſelves as uſeleſs to the world as poſſible. Think too of the ſhocking indelicacy of many of them, who make it a point of religion to abjure linen, and wear their habits till they drop off. How aſtoniſhing that any mind ſhould ſuppoſe the Deity an enemy to cleanlineſs! the Jewiſh religion was hardly any thing elſe.

I paid my reſpects wherever I ſtopped, to the ſeigneureſs of the village; for as to the ſeigneurs, except for two or three, if they had not wives, they would not be worth viſiting.

I am every day more pleaſed with the women here; and, if I was gallant, ſhould be in danger of being a convert to the D2 French D2v 52 French ſtile of gallantry; which certainly debaſes the mind much leſs than ours.

But what is all this to my Emily? How I envy Sir George! what happineſs has Heaven prepared for him, if he has a ſoul to taſte it!

I really muſt not think of her; I found ſo much delight in her converſation, it was quite time to come away; I am almoſt aſhamed to own how much difficulty I found in leaving her: do you know I have ſcarce ſlept ſince? This is abſurd, but I cannot help it; which by the way is an admirable excuſe for any thing.

I have been come but two hours, and am going to Silleri, to pay my compliments to your friend Miſs Fermor, who arrived with her father, who comes to join his regiment, ſince I left Quebec, I hear there has been a very fine importation of Engliſh ladies D3r 53 ladies during my abſence. I am ſorry I have not time to viſit the reſt, but I go tomorrow morning to the Indian village for a fortnight, and have ſeveral letters to write to-night.

Adieu! I am interrupted, Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Letter IX.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

Icannot, Madam, expreſs my obligation to you for having added a poſtſcript to Major Melmoth’s letter: I am ſure he will excuſe my anſwering the whole to you; if not, I beg he may know that I ſhall be very pert about it, being much more ſolicitous to pleaſe you than him, for a thouſand reaſons too tedious to mention.

D3 I thought D3v 54

I thought you had more penetration than to ſuppoſe me indifferent: on the contrary, ſenſibility is my fault; though it is not your little every-day beauties who can excite it: I have admirable diſpoſitions to love, though I am hard to pleaſe: in ſhort, I am not cruel, I am only nice: do but you, or your divine friend, give me leave to wear your chains, and you ſhall ſoon be convinced I can love like an angel, when I ſet in earneſt about it. But, alas! you are married, and in love with your huſband; and your friend is in a ſituation ſtill more unfavorable to a lover’s hopes. This is particularly unfortunate, as you are the only two of your bewitching ſex in Canada, for whom my heart feels the leaſt ſympathy. To be plain, but don’t tell the little Major, I am more than half in love with you both, and, if I was the grand Turk, ſhould certainly fit out a fleet, to ſeize, and bring you to my ſeraglio.

There D4r 55

There is one virtue I admire extremely in you both; I mean, that humane and tender compaſſion for the poor men, which prompts you to be always ſeen together; if you appeared ſeparate, where is the hero who could reſiſt either of you?

You aſk me how I like the French ladies at Montreal: I think them extremely pleaſing; and many of them handſome; I thought Madame L―― ſo, even near you and Miſs Montague; which is, I think, ſaying as much as can be ſaid on the ſubject.

I have juſt heard by accident that Sir George is arrived at Montreal. Aſſure Miſs Montague, no one can be more warmly intereſted in her happineſs than I am: ſhe is the moſt perfect work of Heaven; may ſhe be the happieſt! I feel much more on this occaſion than I can expreſs: a mind like hers muſt, in marriage, be exquiſitely happy D4 or D4v 56 or miſerable: my friendſhip makes me tremble for her, notwithſtanding the worthy character I have heard of Sir George.

I will defer till another time what I had to ſay to Major Melmoth.

I have the honor to be, Madam, Yours &c.

Ed. Rivers.

Letter X.

Ihave been a month arrived, my dear, without having ſeen your brother, who is at Montreal, but I am told is expected to-day. I have ſpent my time however very agreably. I know not what the winter may be, but I am enchanted with the beauty of this country in ſummer; bold, pictureſque, D5r 57 pictureſque, romantic, nature reigns here in all her wanton luxuriance, adorned by a thouſand wild graces which mock the cultivated beauties of Europe. The ſcenery about the town is infinitely lovely; the proſpect extenſive, and diverſified by a variety of hills, woods, rivers, caſcades, intermingled with ſmiling farms and cottages, and bounded by diſtant mountains which ſeem to ſcale the very Heavens.

The days are much hotter here than in England, but the heat is more ſupportable from the breezes which always ſpring up about noon; and the evenings are charming beyond expreſſion. We have much thunder and lightening, but very few inſtances of their being fatal: the thunder is more magnificent and aweful than in Europe, and the lightening brighter and more beautiful; I have even ſeen it of a clear pale purple, reſembling the gay tints of the morning.

D5 The D5v 58

The verdure is equal to that of England, and in the evening acquires an unſpeakable beauty from the lucid ſplendor of the fire-flies ſparkling like a thouſand little ſtars on the trees and on the graſs.

There are two very noble falls of water near Quebec, la Chaudiere and Montmorenci: the former is a prodigious ſheet of water, ruſhing over the wildeſt rocks, and forming a ſcene groteſque, irregular, aſtoniſhing: the latter, leſs wild, leſs irregular, but more pleaſing and more majeſtic, falls from an immenſe height, down the ſide of a romantic mountain, into the river St. Lawrence, oppoſite the moſt ſmiling part of the iſland of Orleans, to the cultivated charms of which it forms the moſt ſtriking and agreeable contraſt.

The river of the ſame name, which ſupplies the caſcade of Montmorenci, is the moſt lovely of all inamninmate objects: but why D6r 59 why do I call it inanimate? It almoſt breathes; I no longer wonder at the enthuſiaſm of Greece and Rome; ’twas from objects reſembling this their mythology took its riſe; it ſeems that reſidence of a thouſand deities.

Paint to yourſelf a ſtupendous rock burſt as it were in ſunder by the hands of nature, to give paſſage to a ſmall, but very deep and beautiful river; and forming on each ſide a regular and magnificent wall, crowned with the nobleſt woods that can be imagined; the ſides of theſe romantic walls adorned with a variety of the gayeſt flowers, and in many places little ſtreams of the pureſt water guſhing through, and loſing themſelves in the river below: a thouſand natural grottoes in the rock make you ſuppoſe yourſelf in the abode of the Nereids; as a little iſland, covered with flowering ſhrubs, about a mile above the falls, where the river enlarges itſelf as if to give it room, ſeems intended for the throne of the river D6 goddeſs D6v 60 goddeſs. Beyond this, the rapids, formed by the irregular projections of the rock, which in ſome places ſeem almoſt to meet, rival in beauty, as they excel in variety, the caſcade itſelf , and cloſe this little world of enchantment.

In ſhort, the lovelineſs of this fairy ſcene alone more than pays the fatigues of my voyage; and, if I ever murmur at having croſſed the Atlantic, remind me that I have ſeen the river Montmorenci.

I can give you a very imperfect account of the people here; I have only examined the landſcape about Quebec, and have given very little attention to the figures; the French ladies are handſome, but as to the beaux, they appear to me not at all dangerous, and one might ſafely walk in a wood by moonlight with the moſt agreeable Frenchman here. I am not ſurprized the Canadian ladies take ſuch pains to ſeduce our men D7r 61 men from us; but I think it is a little hard we have no temptation to make repriſals.

I am at preſent at an extreme pretty farm on the banks of the river St. Lawrence; the houſe ſtands at the foot of a ſteep mountain covered with a variety of trees, forming a verdant ſloping wall, which riſes in a kind of regular confuſion, Shade above ſhade, a woody theatre, and has in front this noble river, on which the ſhips continually paſſing preſent to the delighted eye the moſt charming moving picture imaginable; I never ſaw a place ſo formed to inſpire that pleaſing laſſitude, that divine inclination to ſaunter, which may not improperly be called, the luxurious indolence of the country. I intend to build a temple here to the charming goddeſs of lazineſs.

A gentleman is juſt coming down the winding path of the ſide of a hill, whom by his air I take to be your brother. Adieu! I muſt D7v 62 I muſt receive him: my father is at Quebec.


Arabella Fermor.

Your brother has given me a very pleaſing piece of intelligence: my friend Emily Montague is at Montreal, and is going to be married to great advantage; I muſt write to her immediately, and inſiſt on her making me a viſit before ſhe marries. She came to America two years ago, with her uncle Colonel Montague, who died here, and I imagined was gone back to England; ſhe is however at Montreal with Mrs. Melmoth, a diſtant relation of her mother’s. Adieu! ma tres chere!

Let- D8r 63

Letter XI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

I Find, my dear, that abſence and amuſement are the beſt remedies for a beginning paſſion; I have paſſed a fortnight at the Indian village of Lorette, where the novelty of the ſcene, and the enquiries I have been led to make into their antient religion and manners, have been of a thouſand times more ſervice to me than all the reflection in the world would have been.

I will own to you that I ſtaid too long at Montreal, or rather at Major Melmoth’s; to be ſix weeks in the ſame houſe with one of the moſt amiable, moſt pleaſing of women, was a trying ſituation to a heart full of ſenſibility, and of a ſenſibilitylity D8v 64 lity which has been hitherto, from a variety of cauſes, a good deal reſtrained. I ſhould have avoided the danger from the firſt, had it appeared to me what it really was; but I thought myſelf ſecure in the conſideration of her engagements, a defence however which I found grow weaker every day.

But to my ſavages: other nations talk of liberty, they poſſeſs it; nothing can be more aſtoniſhing than to ſee a little village of about thirty or forty families, the ſmall remains of the Hurons, almoſt exterminated by long and continual war with the Iroquoiſe, preſerve their independence in the midſt of an European colony conſiſting of ſeventy thouſand inhabitants; yet the fact is true of the ſavages of Lorette; they aſſert and they maintain that independence with a ſpirit truly noble. One of our company having ſaid ſomething which an Indian underſtood as a ſuppoſition that they had been subjects of France, his eyes ſtruck fire, D9r 65 fire, he ſtop’d him abruptly, contrary to their reſpectful and ſenſible cuſtom of never interrupting the perſon who ſpeaks, You miſtake, brother, ſaid he; we are ſubjects to no prince; a ſavage is free all over the world. And he ſpoke only truth; they are not only free as a people, but every individual is perfectly ſo. Lord of himſelf, at once ſubject and maſter, a ſavage knows no ſuperior, a circumſtance which has a ſtriking effect on his behaviour; unawed by rank or riches, diſtinctions unknown amongſt his own nation, he would enter as unconcerned, would poſſeſs all his powers as freely in the palace of an oriental monarch, as in the cottage of the meaneſt peaſant: ’tis the ſpecies, ’tis man, ’tis his equal he reſpects, without regarding the gaudy trappings, the accidental advantages, to which poliſhed nations pay homage.

I have taken ſome pains to develop their preſent, as well as paſt, religious ſentiments, becauſe the Jeſuit miſſionaries have boasted D9v 66 boaſted ſo much of their converſion; and find they have rather engrafted a few of the moſt plain and ſimple truths of Chriſtianity on their ancient ſuperſtitions, than exchanged one faith for another; they are baptized, and even ſubmit to what they themſelves call the yoke of confeſſion, and worſhip according to the outward forms of the Romiſh church, the drapery of which cannot but ſtrike minds unuſed to ſplendor; but their belief is very little changed, except that the women ſeem to pay great reverence to the Virgin, perhaps becauſe flattering to the ſex. They anciently believed in one God, the ruler and creator of the univerſe, whom they called the Great Spirit and the Maſter of Life; in the ſun as his image and repreſentative; in a multitude of inferior ſpirits and demons; and in a future ſtate of rewards and puniſhments, or, to uſe their own phraſe, in a country of ſouls. They reverenced the ſpirits of their departed heroes, but it does not D10r 67 not appear that they paid them any religious adoration. Their morals were more pure, their manners more ſimple, than thoſe of poliſhed nations, except in what regarded the intercourſe of the ſexes: the young women before marriage were indulged in great libertiniſm, hid however under the moſt reſerved and decent exterior. They held adultery in abhorrence, and with the more reaſon as their marriages were diſſolvible at pleaſure. The miſſionaries are ſaid to have found no difficulty ſo great in gaining them to Chriſtianity, as that of perſuading them to marry for life: they regarded the Chriſtian ſyſtem of marriage as contrary to the laws of nature and reaſon; and aſſerted that, as the Great Spirit formed us to be happy, it was oppoſing his will, to continue together when otherwiſe.

The ſex we have ſo unjuſtly excluded from power in Europe have a great ſhare in D10v 68 in the Huron government; the chief is choſe by the matrons from amongſt the neareſt male relations, by the female line, of him he is to ſucceed; and is generally an aunt’s or ſiſter’s ſon; a cuſtom which, if we examine ſtrictly into the principle on which it is founded, ſeems a little to contradict what we are told of the extreme chaſtity of the married ladies.

The power of the chief is extremely limited; he ſeems rather to adviſe his people as a father than command them as a maſter: yet, as his commands are always reaſonable, and for the general good, no prince in the world is ſo well obeyed. They have a ſupreme council of ancients, into which every man enters of courſe at an age fixed, and another of aſſiſtants to the chief on common occaſions, the members of which are like him elected by the matrons: I am pleaſed with this laſt regulation, as women are, beyond all doubt, the beſt judges of the merit of men; and I ſhould be extremelytremely D11r 69 tremely pleaſed to ſee it adopted in England: canvaſſing for elections would then be the moſt agreeable thing in the world, and I am ſure the ladies would give their votes on much more generous principles than we do. In the true ſenſe of the word, we are the ſavages, who ſo impolitely deprive you of the common rights of citizenſhip, and leave you no power but that of which we cannot deprive you, the reſiſtleſs power of your charms. By the way, I don’t think you are obliged in conſcience to obey laws you have had no ſhare in making; your plea would certainly be at leaſt as good as that of the Americans, about which we every day hear ſo much.

The Hurons have no poſitive laws; yet being a people not numerous, with a ſtrong ſenſe of honor, and in that ſtate of equality which gives no food to the moſt tormenting paſſions of the human heart, and the council of ancients having a power to 3 puniſh D11v 70 puniſh atrocious crimes, which power however they very ſeldom find occaſion to uſe, they live together in a tranquillity and order which appears to us ſurprizing.

In more numerous Indian nations, I am told, every village has its chief and its councils, and is perfectly independent on the reſt; but on great occaſions ſummon a general council, to which every village ſends deputies.

Their language is at once ſublime and melodious; but, having much fewer ideas, it is impoſſible it can be ſo copious as thoſe of Europe: the pronunciation of the men is guttural, but that of the women extremely ſoft and pleaſing; without underſtanding one word of the language, the ſound of it is very agreeable to me. Their ſtyle even in ſpeaking French is bold and metaphorical: and I am told is on important occaſions extremely ſublime. Even in 1 common D12r 71 common converſation they ſpeak in figures, of which I have this moment an inſtance. A ſavage woman was wounded lately in defending an Engliſh family from the drunken rage of one of her nation. I aſked her after her wound; It is well, ſaid ſhe; my ſiſters at Quebec (meaning the English ladies) have been kind to me; and piaſtres, you know, are very healing.

They have no idea of letters, no alphabet, nor is their language reducible to rules: ’tis by painting they preſerve the memory of the only events which intereſt them, or that they think worth recording, the conqueſts gained over their enemies in war.

When I ſpeak of their paintings, I ſhould not omit that, though extremely rude, they have a ſtrong reſemblance to the Chineſe, a circumſtance which ſtruck me the more, as it is not the ſtile of nature. Their dances alſo, the moſt lively pantomimes I ever ſaw, and eſpecially the dance of D12v 72 of peace, exhibit variety of attitudes reſembling the figures on Chineſe fans; nor have their features and complexion leſs likeneſs to the pictures we ſee of the Tartars, as their wandering manner of life, before they became cChriſtians, was the ſame.

If I thought it neceſſary to ſuppoſe they were not natives of the country, and that America was peopled later than the other quarters of the world, I ſhould imagine them the deſcendants of Tartars; as nothing can be more eaſy than their paſſage from Aſia, from which America is probably not divided; or, if it is, by a very narrow channel. But I leave this to thoſe who are better informed, being a ſubject on which I honeſtly confeſs my ignorance.

I have already obſerved, that they retain moſt of their antient ſuperſtitions. I ſhould particularize their belief in dreams, of which folly even repeated diſappointments cannot cure them: they have alſo an unlimitedmited E1r 73 mited faith in their powawers, or conjurers, of whom there is one in every Indian village, who is at once phyſician, orator, and divine, and who is conſulted as an oracle on every occaſion. As I happened to ſmile at the recital a ſavage was making of a prophetic dream, from which he aſſured us of the death of an Engliſh officer whom I knew to be alive, You Europeans, ſaid he; are the moſt unreaſonable people in the world; you laugh at our belief in dreams, and yet expect us to believe things a thouſand times more incredible.

Their general character is difficult to deſcribe; made up of contrary and even contradictory qualities, they are indolent, tranquil, quiet, humane in peace; active, reſtleſs, cruel, ferocious in war: courteous, attentive, hoſpitable, and even polite, when kindly treated; haughty, ſtern, vindictive, when they are not; and their reſentment is the more to be dreaded, as they hold it a Vol. I. E point E1v 74 point of honor to diſſemble their ſenſe of an injury till they find an opportunity to revenge it.

They are patient of cold and heat, of hunger and thirſt, even beyond all belief when neceſſity requires, paſſing whole days, and often three or four days together, without food, in the woods, when on the watch for an enemy, or even on their hunting parties; yet indulging themſelves in their feaſts even to the moſt brutal degree of intemperance. They deſpiſe death, and ſuffer the moſt excruciating tortures not only without a groan, but with an air of triumph; ſinging their death ſong, deriding their tormentors, and threatening them with the vengeance of their ſurviving friends: yet hold it honorable to fly before an enemy that appears the leaſt ſuperior in number or force.

Deprived by their extreme ignorance, and that indolence which nothing but their ardor E2r 75 ardor for war can ſurmount, of all the conveniencies, as well as elegant refinements of poliſhed life; ſtrangers to the ſofter paſſions, love being with them on the ſame footing as amongſt their fellow-tenants of the woods, their lives appear to me rather tranquil than happy: they have fewer cares, but they have alſo much fewer enjoyments, than fall to our ſhare. I am told, however, that, though inſenſible to love, they are not without affections; are extremely awake to friendſhip, and paſſionately fond of their children.

They are of a copper color, which is rendered more unpleaſing by a quantity of coarſe red on their cheeks; but the children, when born, are of a pale ſilver white; perhaps their indelicate cuſtom of greaſing their bodies, and their being ſo much expoſed to the air and ſun even from infancy, may cauſe that total change of complexion, which I know not how otherwiſe to account for: their hair is black and E2 ſhining, E2v 76 ſhining, the women’s very long, parted at the top, and combed back, tied behind, and often twiſted with a thong of leather, which they think very ornamental: the dreſs of both ſexes is a cloſe jacket, reaching to their knees, with ſpatterdaſhes, all of coarſe blue cloth, ſhoes of deer-ſkin, embroidered with porcupine quills, and ſometimes with ſilver ſpangles; and a blanket thrown acroſs their ſhoulders, and faſtened before with a kind of bodkin, with necklaces, and other ornaments of beads or ſhells.

They are in general tall, well made, and agile to the laſt degree; have a lively imagination, a ſtrong memory; and, as far as their intereſts are concerned, are very dextrous politicians.

Their addreſs is cold and reſerved; but their treatment of ſtrangers, and the unhappy, infinitely kind and hoſpitable. A very worthy prieſt, with whom I am acquaintedquainted E3r 77 quainted at Quebec, was ſome years ſince ſhipwrecked in December on the iſland of Anticoſti: after a variety of diſtreſſes, not difficult to be imagined on an iſland without inhabitants, during the ſeverity of a winter even colder than that of Canada; he, with the ſmall remains of his companions who ſurvived ſuch complicated diſtreſs, early in the ſpring, reached the main land in their boat, and wandered to a cabbin of savages; the ancient of which, having heard his ſtory, bid him enter, and liberally ſupplied their wants: Approach, brother, ſaid he; the unhappy have a right to our aſſiſtance; we are men, and cannot but feel for the diſtreſſes which happen to men; a ſentiment which has a ſtrong reſemblance to a celebrated one in a Greek tragedy.

You will not expect more from me on this ſubject, as my reſidence here has been ſhort, and I can only be ſaid to catch a few E3 marking E3v 78 marking features flying. I am unable to give you a picture at full length.

Nothing aſtoniſhes me ſo much as to find their manners ſo little changed by their intercourſe with the Europeans; they ſeem to have learnt nothing of us but exceſs in drinking.

The ſituation of the village is very fine, on an eminence, gently riſing to a thick wood at ſome diſtance, a beautiful little ſerpentine river in front, on which are a bridge, a mill, and a ſmall caſcade, at ſuch a diſtance as to be very pleaſing objects from their houſes; and a cultivated country, intermixed with little woods lying between them and Quebec, from which they are diſtant only nine very ſhort miles.

What a letter have I written! I ſhall quit my poſt of hiſtorian to your friend Miſs Fermor; the ladies love writing much better E4r 79 better than we do; and I ſhould perhaps be only juſt, if I ſaid they write better.


Ed. Rivers.

Letter XII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iyesterday morning received a letter from Major Melmoth, to introduce to my acquaintance Sir George Clayton, who brought it; he wanted no other introduction to me than his being dear to the moſt amiable woman breathing; in virtue of that claim, he may command every civility, every attention in my power. He breakfaſted with me yesterday: we were two hours alone, and had a great deal of converſation; we afterwards ſpent the day together very agreeably, on a party of pleaſure in the country.

E4 I am E4v 80

I am going with him this afternoon to viſit Miſs Fermor, to whom he has a letter from the divine Emily, which he is to deliver himſelf.

He is very handſome, but not of my favorite ſtile of beauty: extremely fair and blooming, with fine features, light hair and eyes; his countenance not abſolutely heavy, but inanimate, and to my taſte inſipid: finely made, not ungenteel, but without that eaſy air of the world which I prefer to the moſt exact ſymmetry without it. In ſhort, he is what the country ladies in England call a sweet preety man. He dreſſes well, has the fineſt horſes and the handſomeſt liveries I have ſeen in Canada. His manner is civil but cold, his converſation ſenſible but not ſpirited; he ſeems to be a man rather to approve than to love. Will you excuſe me if I ſay, he reſembles the form my imagination paints of Prometheus’s man E5r 81 man of clay, before he ſtole the celeſtial fire to animate him?

Perhaps I ſcrutinize him too ſtrictly; perhaps I am prejudiced in my judgment by the very high idea I had form’d of the man whom Emily Montague could love. I will own to you, that I thought it impoſſible for her to be pleaſed with meer beauty; and I cannot even now change my opinion; I ſhall find ſome latent fire, ſome hidden ſpark, when we are better acquainted.

I intend to be very intimate with him, to endeavour to ſee into his very ſoul; I am hard to pleaſe in a huſband for my Emily; he muſt have ſpirit, he muſt have ſenſibility, or he cannot make her happy.

He thank’d me for my civility to Miſs Montague: do you know I thought him impertinent? and I am not yet ſure he was E5 not E5v 82 not ſo, though I ſaw he meant to be polite.

He comes: our horſes are at the door. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

We are return’d: I every hour like him leſs. There were ſeveral ladies, French and Engliſh, with Miſs Fermor, all on the rack to engage the Baronet’s attention; you have no notion of the effect of a title in America. To do the ladies juſtice however, he really look’d very handſome; the ride, and the civilities he receiv’d from a circle of pretty women, for they were well choſe, gave a glow to his complexion extremely favorable to his deſire of pleaſing,ing, E6r 83 ing, which, through all his calmneſs, it was impoſſible not to obſerve; he even attempted once or twice to be lively, but fail’d: vanity itſelf could not inſpire him with vivacity; yet vanity is certainly his ruling paſſion, if ſuch a piece of ſtill life can be ſaid to have any paſſions at all.

What a charm, my dear Lucy, is there in ſenſibility! ’Tis the magnet which attracts all to itſelf: virtue may command eſteem, underſtanding and talents admiration, beauty a tranſient deſire; but ’tis ſenſibility alone which can inſpire love.

Yet the tender, the ſenſible Emily Montague—no, my dear, ’tis impoſſible: ſhe may fancy ſhe loves him, but it is not in nature; unleſs ſhe extremely miſtakes his character. His approbation of her, for he cannot feel a livelier ſentiment, may at preſent, when with her, raiſe him a little above his natural vegetative ſtate, but after E6 marriage E6v 84 marriage he will certainly ſink into it again.

If I have the leaſt judgment in men, he will be a cold, civil, inattentive huſband; a taſteless, inſipid, ſilent companion; a tranquil, frozen, unimpaſſion’d lover; his inſenſibility will ſecure her from rivals, his vanity will give her all the drapery of happineſs; her friends will congratulate her choice; ſhe will be the envy of her own ſex: without giving poſitive offence, he will every moment wound, becauſe he is a ſtranger to, all the fine feelings of a heart like hers; ſhe will ſeek in vain the friend, the lover, ſhe expected; yet, ſcarce knowing of what to complain, ſhe will accuſe herſelf of caprice, and be aſtoniſh’d to find herſelf wretched with the beſt huſband in the world.

I tremble E7r 85

I tremble for her happineſs; I know how few of my own ſex are to be found who have the lively ſenſibility of yours, and of thoſe few how many wear out their hearts by a life of gallantry and diſſipation, and bring only apathy and diſguſt to marriage. I know few men capable of making her happy; but this Sir George—my Lucy, I have not patience.

Did I tell you all the men here are in love with your friend Bell Fermor? The women all hate her, which is an unequivocal proof that ſhe pleaſes the other ſex.

Let- E7v 86

Letter XIII.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

My deareſt Bell will better imagine than I can deſcribe, the pleaſure it gave me to hear of her being in Canada; I am impatient to ſee her, but as Mrs. Melmoth comes in a fortnight to Quebec; I know ſhe will excuſe my waiting to come to her. My viſit however is to Silleri; I long to ſee my dear girl, to tell her a thouſand little trifles intereſting only to friendſhip.

You congratulate me, my dear, on the pleaſing proſpect I have before me; on my approaching marriage with a man young, rich, E8r 87 rich, lovely, enamor’d, and of an amiable character.

Yes, my dear, I am oblig’d to my uncle for his choice; Sir George is all you have heard; and, without doubt, loves me, as he marries me with ſuch an inferiority of fortune. I am very happy certainly; how is it poſſible I ſhould be otherwiſe?

I could indeed with my tenderneſs for him more lively, but perhaps my wiſhes are romantic. I prefer him to all his ſex, but with my preference was of a leſs languid nature; there is ſomething in it more like friendſhip than love; I ſee him with pleaſure, but I part from him without regret; yet he deſerves my affection, and I can have no objection to him which is not founded in caprice.

You ſay true; Colonel Rivers is very amiable; he paſs’d ſix weeks with us, yet 5 we E8v 88 we found his converſation always new; he is the man on earth of whom one would wiſh to make a friend; I think I could already truſt him with every ſentiment of my ſoul; I have even more confidence in him than in Sir George whom I love; his manner is ſoft, attentive, inſinuating, and particularly adapted to pleaſe women. Without deſigns, without pretenſions; he ſteals upon you in the character of a friend, becauſe there is not the leaſt appearance of his ever being a lover: he ſeems to take ſuch an intereſt in your happineſs, as gives him a right to know your every thought. Don’t you think, my dear, theſe kind of men are dangerous? Take care of yourſelf, my dear Bell; as to me, I am ſecure in my ſituation.

Sir George is to have the pleaſure of delivering this to you, and comes again in a few days; love him for my ſake, though 1 he E9r 89 he deſerves it for his own. I aſſure you, he is extremely worthy.

Adieu! my dear. Your affectionate

Emily Montague.

Letter XIV.

To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Believe me, Jack, you are wrong; this vagrant taſte is unnatural, and does not lead to happineſs; your eager purſuit of pleaſure defeats itſelf; love gives no true delight but where the heart is attach’d, and you do not give yours time to fix. Such is our unhappy frailty, that the tendereſt paſſion may wear out, and another E9v 90 another ſucceed, but the love of change merely as change is not in nature; where it is a real taſte, ’tis a depraved one. Boys are inconſtant from vanity and affectation, old men from decay of paſſion; but men, and particularly men of ſenſe, find their happineſs only in that lively attachment of which it is impoſſible for more than one to be the object. Love is an intellectual pleaſure, and even the ſenſes will be weakly affected where the heart is ſilent.

You will find this truth confirmed even within the walls of the ſeraglio; amidſt this crowd of rival beauties, eager to pleaſe, one happy fair generally reigns in the heart of the ſultan; the reſt ſerve only to gratify his pride and oſtentation, and are regarded by him with the ſame indifference as the furniture of his ſuperb palace, of which they may be ſaid to make a part.

With E10r 91

With your eſtate, you ſhould marry; I have as many objections to the ſtate as you can have; I mean, on the footing marriage is at preſent. But of this I am certain, that two perſons at once delicate and ſenſible, united by friendſhip, by taſte, by a conformity of ſentiment, by that lively ardent tender inclination which alone deſerves the name of love, will find happineſs in marriage, which is in vain ſought in any other kind of attachment.

You are ſo happy as to have the power of chuſing; you are rich, and have not the temptation to a mercenary engagement. Look round you for a companion, a confidente; a tender amiable friend, with all the charms of a miſtreſs: above all, be certain of her affection, that you engage, that you fill her whole ſoul. Find ſuch a woman, my dear Temple, and you cannot make too much haſte to be happy.

I have E10v 92

I have a thouſand things to say to you, but am ſetting off immediately with Sir George Clayton, to meet the lieutenant governor at Montreal; a piece of reſpect which I ſhould pay with the moſt lively pleaſure, if it did not give me the opportunity of ſeeing the woman in the world I moſt admire. I am not however going to ſet you the example of marrying: I am not ſo happy; ſhe is engaged to the gentleman who goes up with me. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

Let- E11r 93

Letter XV.

To Miſs Montague, at Montreal.

Take care, my dear Emily, you do not fall into the common error of ſenſible and delicate minds, that of reſining away your happineſs.

Sir George is handſome as an Adonis; you allow him to be of an amiable character; he is rich, young, well born, and loves you; you will have fine cloaths, fine jewels, a fine houſe, a coach and ſix; all the douceurs of marriage, with an extreme pretty fellow, who is fond of you, whom you ſee with pleaſure, and prefer to all his ſex; and yet you are diſcontented, becauſe you have not for him at twenty-four the romantic paſſion of fifteen, or rather that ideal E11v 94 ideal paſſion which perhaps never exiſted but in imagination.

To be happy in this world, it is neceſſary not to raiſe one’s ideas too high: if I loved a man of Sir George’s fortune half as well as by your own account you love him, I ſhould not heſitate one moment about marrying; but ſit down contented with eaſe, affluence, and an agreeable man, without expecting to find life what it certainly is not, a ſtate of continual rapture. ’Tis, I am afraid, my dear, your misfortune to have too much ſenſibility to be happy.

I could moralize exceedingly well this morning on the vanity of human wiſhes and expectations, and the folly of hoping for felicity in this vile ſublunary world: but the ſubject is a little exhauſted, and I have a paſſion for being original. I think all the moral writers, who have ſet off with promiſing to ſhew us the road to happineſs, have obligingly ended with telling us there is E12r 95 is no ſuch thing; a concluſion extremely conſoling, and which if they had drawn before they ſet pen to paper, would have ſaved both themſelves and their readers an infinity of trouble. This fancy of hunting for what one knows is not to be found, is really an ingenious way of amuſing both one’s ſelf and the world: I wiſh people would either write to ſome purpoſe, or be ſo good as not to write at all.

I believe I ſhall ſet about writing a ſyſtem of ethics myſelf, which ſhall be ſhort, clear, and comprehenſive; nearer the Epicurean perhaps than the Stoic; but rural, refined, and ſentimental; rural by all means; for who does not know that virtue is a country gentlewoman? all the good mammas will tell you, there is no ſuch being to be heard of in town.

I ſhall certainly be glad to ſee you, my dear; though I foreſee ſtrange revolutions in the ſtate of Denmark from this event; at E12v 96 at preſent I have all the men to myſelf, and you muſt know I have a prodigious averſion to divided empire: however, ’tis ſome comfort they all know you are going to be married. You may come, Emily; only be ſo obliging to bring Sir George along with you: in your preſent ſituation, you are not ſo very formidable.

The men here, as I ſaid before, are all dying for me; there are many handſomer women, but I flatter them, and the dear creatures cannot reſiſt it. I am a very good girl to women, but naturally artful (if you will allow the expreſſion) to the other ſex; I can bluſh, look down, ſtifle a ſigh, flutter my fan, and ſeem ſo agreeably confuſed— you have no notion, my dear, what fools men are. If you had not got the ſtart of me, I would have had your little white- haired baronet in a week, and yet I don’t take him to be made of very combuſtible materials; rather mild, compoſed, and pretty, F1r 97 pretty, I believe; but he has vanity, which is quite enough for my purpoſe.

Either your love or Colonel Rivers will have the honor to deliver this letter; ’tis rather cruel to take them both from us at once; however, we ſhall ſoon be made amends; for we ſhall have a torrent of beaux with the general.

Don’t you think the ſun in this country vaſtly more chearing than in England? I am charmed with the ſun, to ſay nothing of the moon, though to be ſure I never ſaw a moon-light night that deſerved the name till I came to America.

Mon cher pere deſires a thouſand compliments; you know he has been in love with you ever ſince you were ſeven years old: he is vaſtly better for his voyage, and the clear air of Canada, and looks ten years younger than before he ſet out.

Vol. I. F Adieu! F1v 98

Adieu! I am going to ramble in the woods, and pick berries, with a little ſmiling civil captain, who is enamoured of me: a pretty rural amuſement for lovers!

Good morrow, my dear Emily, Yours,

A. Fermor.

Letter XVI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Your brother, my dear, is gone to Montreal with Sir George Clayton, of whom I ſuppoſe you have heard, and who is going to marry a friend of mine, to pay a viſit to Monſieur le General, who is arrived there. The men in Canada, the Engliſh I mean, are eternally changing place, F2r 99 place, even when they have not ſo pleaſing a call; travelling is cheap and amuſing, the proſpects lovely, the weather inviting; and there are no very lively pleaſures at preſent to attach them either to Quebec or Montreal, ſo that they divide themſelves between both.

This fancy of the men, which is extremely the mode, makes an agreable circulation of inamoratoes, which ſerves to vary the amuſement of the ladies; ſo that upon the whole ’tis a pretty faſhion, and deſerves encouragement.

You expect too much of your brother, my dear; the ſummer is charming here, but with no ſuch very ſtriking difference from that of England, as to give room to ſay a vaſt deal on the ſubject; though I believe, if you will pleaſe to compare our letters, you will find, putting us together, we cut a pretty figure in the deſcriptive way; at leaſt if your brother tells me truth.

F2 You F2v 100

You may expect a very well painted froſtpiece from me in the winter; as to the preſent ſeaſon, it is juſt like any fine autumn in England: I may add, that the beauty of the nights is much beyond my power of deſcription: a constant Aurora borealis, without a cloud in the heavens; and a moon ſo reſplendent that you may ſee to read the ſmalleſt print by its light; one has nothing to wiſh but that it was full moon every night. Our evening walks are delicious, eſpecially at Silleri, where ’tis the pleaſanteſt thing in the world to liſten to ſoft nonſenſe, Whilſt the moon dances through the trembling leaves (A line I ſtole from Philander and Sylvia But to return:

The French ladies never walk but at night, which ſhews their good taſte; and then F3r 101 then only within the walls of Quebec, which does not: they ſaunter ſlowly, after ſupper, on a particular battery, which is a kind of little Mall: they have no idea of walking in the country, nor the leaſt feeling of the lovely ſcene around them; there are many of them who never ſaw the falls of Montmorenci, though little more than an hour’s drive from the town. They ſeem born without the ſmalleſt portion of curioſity, or any idea of the pleaſures of the imagination, or indeed any pleaſure but that of being admired; love, or rather coquetry, dreſs, and devotion, ſeem to ſhare all their hours: yet, as they are lively, and in general handſome, the men are very ready to excuſe their want of knowledge.

There are two ladies in the province, I am told, who read; but both of them are above fifty, and they are regarded as prodigies of erudition.

F3 Abſo- F3v 102

Abſolutely, Lucy, I will marry a ſavage, and turn ſquaw (a pretty ſoft name for an Indian princeſs!): never was any thing delightful as their lives; they talk of French husbands, but commend me to an Indian one, who lets his wife ramble five hundred miles, without asking where ſhe is going.

I was ſitting after dinner with a book, in a thicket of hawthorn near the beach, when a loud laugh called my attention to the river, where I ſaw a canoe of ſavages making to the ſhore; there were ſix women, and two or three children, without one man amongſt them: they landed, tied the canoe to the root of a tree, and finding out the moſt agreable ſhady ſpot amongſt the buſhes with which the beach was covered, which happened to be very near me, F4r 103 me, made a fire, on which they laid ſome fiſh to broil, and, fetching water from the river, ſat down on the graſs to their frugal repaſt.

I ſtole ſoftly to the houſe, and, ordering a ſervant to bring ſome wine and cold proviſions, returned to my ſquaws: I aſked them in French if they were of Lorette; they ſhook their heads: I repeated the queſtion in Engliſh, when the oldeſt of the women told me, they were not; that their country was on the borders of New England; that, their husbands being on a hunting party in the woods, curioſity, and the deſire of ſeeing their brethren the Engliſh who had conquered Quebec, had brought them up the great river, down which they ſhould return as ſoon as they had ſeen Montreal. She courteouſly aſked me to ſit down, and eat with them, which I complied with, and produced my part of the feaſt. We ſoon became good company, and brighten’d F4 the F4v 104 the chain of friendſhip with two bottles of wine, which put them into ſuch ſpirits, that they danced, ſung, ſhook me by the hand, and grew ſo very fond of me, that I began to be afraid I ſhould not eaſily get rid of them. They were very unwilling to part with me; but, after two or three very ridiculous hours, I with ſome difficulty prevailed on the ladies to purſue their voyage, having firſt repleniſhed their canoe with proviſions and a few bottles of wine, and given them a letter of recommendation to your brother, that they might be in no diſtreſs at Montreal.

Adieu! my father is juſt come in, and has brought ſome company with him from Quebec to ſupper.

Yours ever,

A. Fermor.

Don’t F5r 105

Don’t you think, my dear, my good ſiſters the ſquaws ſeem to live ſomething the kind of life of our gypſies? The idea ſtruck me as they were dancing. I aſſure you, there is a good deal of reſemblance in their perſons: I have ſeen a fine old ſeaſoned female gypſey, of as dark a complexion as a ſavage: they are all equally marked as children of the ſun.

Letter XVII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

I Study my fellow traveller cloſely; his character, indeed, is not difficult to aſcertain; his feelings are dull, nothing makes F5 the F5v 106 the leaſt impreſſion on him; he is as inſenſible to the various beauties of the charming country through which we have travelled, as the very Canadian peaſants themſelves who inhabit it. I watched his eyes at ſome of the moſt beautiful proſpects, and ſaw not the leaſt gleam of pleaſure there: I introduced him here to an extreme handſome French lady, and as lively as ſhe is handſome, the wife of an officer who is of my acquaintance; the ſame taſteleſs compoſure prevailed; he complained of fatigue, and retired to his apartment at eight: the family are now in bed, and I have an hour to give to my dear Lucy.

He admires Emily becauſe he has ſeen her admired by all the world, but he cannot taſte her charms of himſelf; they are not of a ſtile to pleaſe him: I cannot ſupport the thought of ſuch a woman’s being ſo loſt; there are a thouſand inſenſible good young women to be found, who would doze away life with him and be happy.

A rich, F6r 107

A rich, ſober, ſedate, preſbyterian citizen’s daughter, educated by her grandmother in the country, who would roll about with him in unweildy ſplendor, and dream away a lazy exiſtence, would be the proper wife for him. Is it for him, a lifeleſs compoſition of earth and water, to unite himſelf to the active elements which compoſe my divine Emily?

Adieu! my dear! we ſet out early in the morning for Montreal.

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

F6 Let- F6v 108

Letter XVIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

No, my dear, it is impoſſible ſhe can love him; his dull ſoul is ill ſuited to hers; heavy, unmeaning, formal; a ſlave to rules, to ceremony, to etiquette, he has not an idea above thoſe of a gentleman uſher. He has been three hours in town without ſeeing her; dreſſing, and waiting to pay his compliments firſt to the general, who is riding, and every minute expected back. I am all impatience, though only her friend, but think it would be indecent in me to go without him, and look like a deſign of reproaching his coldneſs. How differently are we formed! I ſhould have ſtole a moment to ſee the woman I loved from the firſt prince in the univerſe.

The F7r 109

The general is returned. Adieu! till our viſit is over; we go from thence to Major Melmoth’s, whoſe family I ſhould have told you are in town, and not half a ſtreet from us. What a ſoul of fire has this lover! ’Tis to profane the word to uſe it in ſpeaking of him.

I am miſtaken, Lucy; aſtoniſhing as it is, ſhe loves him; this dull clod of uninformed earth has touched the lively ſoul of my Emily. Love is indeed the child of caprice; I will not ſay of ſympathy, for what ſympathy can there be between two hearts ſo different? I am hurt, ſhe is lowered in my eſteem; I expected to find in the man ſhe loved, a mind ſenſible and tender as her own.

I repeat it, my dear Lucy; ſhe loves him; I obſerved her when we entered the room; ſhe F7v 110 ſhe bluſhed, ſhe turned pale, ſhe trembled, her voice faltered; every look ſpoke the ſtrong emotion of her ſoul.

She is paler than when I ſaw her laſt; ſhe is, I think, leſs beautiful, but more touching than ever; there is a langour in her air, a ſoftneſs in her countenance, which are the genuine marks of a heart in love; all the tenderneſs of her ſoul is in her eyes.

Shall I own to you all my injuſtice? I hate this man for having the happineſs to pleaſe her: I cannot even behave to him with the politeneſs due to every gentleman.

I begin to fear my weakneſs is greater than I ſuppoſed.

I am certainly mad, Lucy; what right have I to expect!—you will ſcarce believe the F8r 111 the exceſs of my folly. I went after dinner to Major Melmoth’s; I found Emily at piquet with Sir George: can you conceive that I fancied myſelf ill uſed, that I ſcarce ſpoke to her, and returned immediately home, though ſtrongly preſſed to ſpend the evening there. I walked two or three times about my room, took my hat, and went to viſit the handſomeſt Frenchwoman at Montreal, whoſe windows are directly oppoſite to Major Melmoth’s; in the exceſs of my anger, I aſked this lady to dance with me to-morrow at a little ball we are to have out of town. Can you imagine any behaviour more childiſh? It would have been ſcarce pardonable at ſixteen.

Adieu! my letter is called for. I will write to you again in a few days.


Ed. Rivers.

Major Melmoth tells me, they are to be married in a month at Quebec, and to F8v 112 to embark immediately for England. I will not be there; I cannot bear to ſee her devote herſelf to wretchedneſs: ſhe will be the moſt unhappy of her ſex with this man; I ſee clearly into his character; his virtue is the meer abſence of vice; his good qualities are all of the negative kind.

Letter XIX.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Ihave but a moment, my dear, to acknowledge your laſt; this week has been a continual hurry.

You miſtake me; it is not the romantic paſſion of fifteen I wiſh to feel, but that tender lively friendſhip which alone can give F9r 113 give charms to ſo intimate an union as that of marriage. I wiſh a greater conformity in our characters, in our ſentiments, in our taſtes.

But I will ſay no more on this ſubject till I have the pleaſure of ſeeing you at Silleri. Mrs. Melmoth and I come in a ſhip which ſails in a day or two; they tell us, it is the moſt agreeable way of coming: Colonel Rivers is ſo polite, as to ſtay to accompany us down: Major Melmoth aſked Sir George, but he preferred the pleaſure of parading into Quebec, and ſhewing his fine horſes and fine perſon to advantage, to that of attending his miſtreſs: ſhall I own to you that I am hurt at this inſtance of his neglect, as I know his attendance on the general was not expected? His ſituation was more than a ſufficient excuſe; it was highly improper for two women to go to Quebec alone; it is in ſome degree ſo that any other man ſhould accompany me at this time: my pride is extremely wounded. I expect a thouſand F9v 114 thouſand times more attention from him ſince his acquiſition of fortune; it is with pain I tell you, my dear friend, he ſeems to ſhew me much leſs. I will not deſcend to ſuppoſe he preſumes on this increaſe of fortune, but he preſumes on the inclination, he ſuppoſes I have for him; an inclination, however, not violent enough to make me ſubmit to the leaſt ill treatment from him.

In my preſent ſtate of mind, I am extremely hard to pleaſe; either his behaviour or my temper have ſuffered a change. I know not how it is, but I ſee his faults in a much ſtronger light than I have ever ſeen them before. I am alarmed at the coldneſs of his diſpoſition, ſo ill ſuited to the ſenſibility of mine; I begin to doubt his being of the amiable character I once ſuppoſed: in ſhort, I begin to doubt the poſſibility of his making me happy.

You will, perhaps, call it an exceſs of pride, when I ſay, I am much leſs inclined to F10r 115 to marry him than when our ſituations were equal. I certainly love him; I have a habit of conſidering him as the man I am to marry, but my affection is not of that kind which will make me eaſy under the ſenſe of an obligation.

I will open all my heart to you when we meet: I am not ſo happy as you imagine: do not accuſe me of caprice; can I be too cautious, where the happineſs of my whole life is at ſtake?

Adieu! Your faithful

Emily Montague.

Let- F10v 116

Letter XX.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ideclare off at once; I will not be a ſquaw; I admire their talking of the liberty of ſavages; in the moſt eſſential point, they are ſlaves: the mothers marry their children without ever conſulting their inclinations, and they are obliged to ſubmit to this fooliſh tyranny. Dear England! where liberty appears, not as here among theſe odious ſavages, wild and ferocious like themſelves, but lovely, ſmiling, led by the hand of the Graces. There is no true freedom any where elſe. They may talk of the privilege of chuſing a chief; but what is that to the dear Engliſh privilege of chuſing a husband?

I have been at an Indian wedding, and have no patience. Never did I ſee ſo vile an aſſortment.

Adieu! F11r 117

Adieu! I ſhall not be in good humor this month.


A. Fermor.

Letter XXI.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

What you ſay, my dear friend, is more true than I wiſh it was; our Engliſh women of character are generally too reſerved; their manner is cold and forbidding; they ſeem to think it a crime to be too attractive; they appear almoſt afraid to pleaſe.

’Tis to this ill-judged reſerve I attribute the low profligacy of too many of our young men; the grave faces and diſtant behaviour1 viour F11v 118 viour of the generality of virtuous women fright them from their acquaintance, and drive them into the ſociety of thoſe wretched votaries of vice, whoſe converſation debaſes every ſentiment of their ſouls.

With as much beauty, good ſenſe, ſenſibility, and ſoftneſs, at leaſt, as any women on earth, no women pleaſe ſo little as the Engliſh: depending on their native charms, and on thoſe really amiable qualities which envy cannot deny them, they are too careleſs in acquiring thoſe enchanting nameleſs graces, which no language can define, which give reſiſtleſs force to beauty, and even ſupply its place where it is wanting.

They are ſatiſfied with being good, without conſidering that unadorned virtue may command eſteem, but will never excite love; and both are neceſſary in marriage, which I ſuppoſe to be in the ſtate every woman of honor has in proſpect; for 2 I own F12r 119 I own myſelf rather incredulous as to the aſſertions of maiden aunts and couſins to the contrary. I wiſh my amiable country- women would conſider one moment, that virtue is never ſo lovely as when dreſſed in ſmiles: the virtue of women ſhould have all the ſoftneſs of the ſex; it ſhould be gentle, it ſhould be even playful, to pleaſe.

There is a lady here, whom I wiſh you to ſee, as the ſhorteſt way of explaining to you all I mean; ſhe is the moſt pleaſing woman I ever beheld, independently of her being one of the handſomeſt; her manner is irreſiſtible: ſhe has all the ſmiling graces of France, all the bluſhing delicacy and native ſoftneſs of England.

Nothing can be more delicate, my dear Temple, than the manner in which you offer me your eſtate in Rutland, by way of anticipating your intended legacy: it is however impoſſible for me to accept it; my father, who ſaw me naturally more profuſe than F12v 120 than became my expectations, took ſuch pains to counterwork it by inſpiring me with the love of independence, that I cannot have ſuch an obligation even to you.

Beſides, your legacy is left on the ſuppoſition that you are not to marry, and I am abſolutely determined you ſhall; ſo that, by accepting this mark of your eſteem, I ſhould be robbing your younger children.

I have not a wiſh to be richer whilſt I am a batchelor, and the only woman I ever wiſhed to marry, the only one my heart deſires, will be in three weeks the wife of another; I ſhall ſpend leſs than my income here: ſhall I not then be rich? To make you eaſy, know I have four thouſand pounds in the funds; and that, from the equality of living here, an enſign is obliged to ſpend near as much as I am; he is inevitably ruined, but I ſave money.

I pity G1r 121

I pity you, my friend; I am hurt to hear you talk of happineſs in the life you at preſent lead; of finding pleaſure in poſſeſſing venal beauty; you are in danger of acquiring a habit which will vitiate your taſte, and exclude you from that ſtate of refined and tender friendſhip for which nature formed a heart like yours, and which is only to be found in marriage: I need not add, in a marriage of choice.

It has been ſaid that love marriages are generally unhappy; nothing is more falſe; marriages of meer inclination will always be ſo: paſſion alone being concerned, when that is gratified, all tenderneſs ceaſes of courſe: but love, the gay child of ſympathy and eſteem, is, when attended by delicacy, the only happineſs worth a reaſonable man’s purſuit, and the choiceſt gift of heaven: it is a ſofter, tenderer friendſhip, enlivened by taſte, and by the moſt ardent Vol. I. G desire G1v 122 deſire of pleaſing, which time, inſtead of deſtroying, will render every hour more dear and intereſting.

If, as you poſſibly will, you ſhould call me romantic, hear a man of pleaſure on the ſubject, the Petronius of the laſt age, the elegant, but voluptuous St. Evremond, who ſpeaks in the following manner of the friendſhip between married perſons:

I believe it is this pleaſing intercourſe of tenderneſs, this reciprocation of eſteem, or, if you will, this mutual ardor of preventing each other in every endearing mark of affection, in which conſiſts the ſeetneſs of this ſecond ſpecies of friendſhip. I do not ſpeak of other pleaſures, which are not ſo much in themſelves as in the aſſurance they give of the intire poſſeſſion of thoſe we love: this appears “to G2r 123 to me ſo true, that I am not afraid to aſſert, the man who is by any other means certainly aſſured of the tenderneſs of her he loves, may eaſily ſupport the privation of thoſe pleaſures; and that they ought not to enter into the account of friendſhip, but as proofs that it is without reſerve. ’Tis true, few men are capable of the purity of theſe ſentiments, and ’tis for that reaſon we ſo very ſeldom ſee perfect friendſhip in marriage, at leaſt for any long time: the object which a ſenſual paſſion has in view cannot long ſuſtain a commerce ſo noble as that of friendſhip.

You ſee, the pleaſures you ſo much boaſt are the leaſt of thoſe which true tenderneſs has to give, and this in the opinion of a voluptuary.

G2 My G2v 124

My dear Temple, all you have ever known of love is nothing to that ſweet conſent of ſouls in uniſon, that harmony of minds congenial to each other, of which you have not yet an idea.

You have ſeen beauty, and it has inſpired a momentary emotion, but you have never yet had a real attachment; you yet know nothing of that irreſiſtible tenderneſs, that delirium of the ſoul, which, whilſt it refines, adds ſtrength to paſſion.

I perhaps ſay too much, but I wiſh with ardor to ſee you happy; in which there is the more merit, as I have not the leaſt proſpect of being ſo myſelf.

I wiſh you to purſue the plan of life which I myſelf think moſt likely to bring nhappineſs, becauſe I know our ſouls to be of the ſame frame: we have taken differentferent G3r 125 ferent roads, but you will come back to mine. Awake to delicate pleaſures, I have no taſte for any other; there are no other for ſenſible minds. My gallantries have been few, rather (if it is allowed to ſpeak thus of one’s ſelf even to a friend) from elegance of taſte than ſeverity of manners; I have loved ſeldom, becauſe I cannot love without eſteem.

Believe me, Jack, the meer pleaſure of loving, even without a return, is ſuperior to all the joys of ſenſe where the heart is untouched: the French poet does not exaggerate when he ſays, ――Amour; Tous les autres plaiſirs ne valent pas tes peines.

You will perhaps call me mad; I am juſt come from a woman who is capable of making all mankind ſo. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

G3 Let- G3v 126

Letter XXII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihave been rambling about amongſt the peaſants, and aſking them a thouſand queſtions, in order to ſatisfy your inquiſitive friend. As to my father, though, properly ſpeaking, your queſtions are addreſſed to him, yet, being upon duty, he begs that, for this time, you will accept of an anſwer from me.

The Canadians live a good deal like the ancient patriarchs; the lands were originally ſettled by the troops, every officer became a ſeigneur, or lord of the manor, every ſoldier took lands under his commander; but, as avarice is natural to mankind, the ſoldiers took a great deal more than they could cultivate, by way of providingviding G4r 127 viding for a family: which is the reaſon ſo much land is now waſte in the fineſt part of the province: thoſe who had children, and in general they have a great number, portioned out their lands amongſt them as they married, and lived in the midſt of a little world of their deſcendents.

There are whole villages, and there is even a large iſland, that of Coudre, where the inhabitants are all the deſcendents of one pair, if we only ſuppoſe that their ſons went to the next village for wives, for I find no tradition of their having had a diſpenſation to marry their ſiſters.

The corn here is very good, though not equal to ours; the harveſt not half ſo gay as in England, and for this reaſon, that the lazy creatures leave the greateſt part of their land uncultivated, only ſowing as much corn of different ſorts as will ſerve themſelves; and being too proud and too idle to work for hire, every family gets in G4 its G4v 128 its own harveſt, which prevents all that jovial ſpirit which we find when the reapers work together in large parties.

Idleneſs is the reigning paſſion here, from the peaſant to his lord; the gentlemen never either ride on horſeback or walk, but are driven about like women, for they never drive themſelves, lolling at their eaſe in a calache: the peaſants, I mean the maſters of families, are pretty near as uſeleſs as their lords.

You will ſcarce believe me, when I tell you, that I have ſeen, at the farm next us, two children, a very beautiful boy and girl, of about eleven years old, aſſiſted by their grandmother, reaping a field of oats, whilſt the lazy father, a ſtrong fellow of thirty two, lay on the graſs, ſmoaking his pipe, about twenty yards from them: the old people and children work here; thoſe in the age of ſtrength and health only take their pleaſure.

A pro- G5r 129

A propos to ſmoaking, ’tis common to ſee here boys of three years old, ſitting at their doors, ſmoaking their pipes, as grave and compoſed as little old Chineſe men on a chimney.

You aſk me after our fruits; we have, as I am told, an immenſity of cranberries all the year; when the ſnow melts away in ſpring, they are ſaid to be found under it as freſh and as good as in autumn: ſtrawberries and rasberries grow wild in profuſion; you cannot walk a ſtep in the fields without treading on the former: great plenty of currants, plumbs, apples, and pears; a few cherries and grapes, but not in much perfection: excellent muſk melons, and water melons in abundance, but not ſo good in proportion as the muſk. Not a peach, nor any thing of the kind; this I am however convinced is leſs the fault of the climate than of the people, who G5 are G5v 130 are too indolent to take pains for any thing more than is abſolutely neceſſary to their exiſtence. They might have any fruit here but gooſeberries, for which the ſummer is too hot; there are buſhes in the woods, and ſome have been brought from England, but the fruit falls off before it is ripe. The wild fruits here, eſpecially thoſe of the brumble kind, are in much greater variety and perfection than in England.

When I ſpeak of the natural productions of the country, I ſhould not forget that hemp and hops grow every where in the woods; I ſhould imagine the former might be cultivated here with great ſucceſs, if the people could be perſuaded to cultivate any thing.

A little corn of every kind, a little hay, a little tobacco, half a dozen apple trees, a few onions and cabbages, make the whole of a Canadian plantation. There is ſcarce a flower, except thoſe in the woods, where there G6r 131 there is a variety of the moſt beautiful ſhrubs I ever ſaw; the wild cherry, of which the woods are full, is equally charming in flower and in fruit; and, in my opinion, at leaſt equals the arbutus.

They ſow their wheat in ſpring, never manure the ground, and plough it in the ſlighteſt manner; can it then be wondered at that it is inferior to ours? They fancy the froſt would deſtroy it if ſown in autumn; but this is all prejudice, as experience has ſhewn. I myſelf ſaw a field of wheat this year at the governor’s farm, which was manured and ſown in autumn, as fine as I ever ſaw in England.

I ſhould tell you, they are ſo indolent as never to manure their lands, or even their gardens; and that, till the Engliſh came, all the manure of Quebec was thrown into the river.

You G6v 132

You will judge how naturally rich the ſoil muſt be, to produce good crops without manure, and without ever lying fallow, and almoſt without ploughing; yet our political writers in England never ſpeak of Canada without the epithet of barren. They tell me this extreme fertility is owing to the ſnow, which lies five or ſix months on the ground. Proviſions are dear, which is owing to the prodigious number of horſes kept here; every family having a carriage, even the pooreſt peaſant; and every ſon of that peaſant keeping a horſe for his little excurſions of pleaſure, beſides thoſe neceſſary for the buſineſs of the farm. The war alſo deſtroyed the breed of cattle, which I am told however begins to encreaſe; they have even ſo far improved in corn, as to export ſome this year to Italy and Spain.

Don’t you think I am become an excellent farmereſs? ’Tis intuition; ſome people are born learned: are you not all aſtoniſhmentment G7r 133 ment at my knowledge? I never was ſo vain of a letter in my life.

Shall I own the truth? I had moſt of my intelligence from old John, who lived long with my grandfather in the country; and who, having little elſe to do here, has taken ſome pains to pick up a competent knowledge of the ſtate of agriculture five miles round Quebec.

Adieu! I am tired of the ſubject. Your faithful,

A. Fermor.

Now I think of it, why did you not write to your brother? Did you chuſe me to expoſe my ignorance? If ſo, I flatter myſelf you are a little taken in, for I think John and I figure in the rural way.

Let- G7v 134

Letter XXIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Oto be ſure! we are vaſtly to be pitied: no beaux at all with the general; only about ſix to one; a very pretty proportion, and what I hope always to ſee. We, the ladies I mean, drink chocolate with the general to-morrow, and he gives us a ball on Thursday: you would not know Quebec again; nothing but ſmiling faces now; all ſo gay as never was, the ſweeteſt country in the world; never expect to ſee me in England again; one is really ſomebody here: I have been aſked to dance by only twenty-ſeven.

On the ſubject of dancing, I am, as it were, a little embarraſed: you will pleaſe to G8r 135 to obſerve that, in the time of ſcarcity, when all the men were at Montreal, I ſuffered a fooliſh little captain to ſigh and ſay civil things to me, pour paſſer le tems, and the creature takes the airs of a lover, to which he has not the leaſt pretenſions, and chuſes to be angry that I won’t dance with him on Thurſday, and I poſitively won’t.

It is really pretty enough that every abſurd animal, who takes upon him to make love to one, is to fancy himſelf entitled to a return: I have no patience with the men’s ridiculouſneſs: have you, Lucy?

But I ſee a ſhip coming down under full ſail; it may be Emily and her friends; the colours are all out, they ſlacken ſail; they drop anchor oppoſite the houſe; ’tis certainly them; I muſt fly to the beach: muſic as I am a perſon, and an awning on the deck: the boat puts off with your brother in it. Adieu for a moment: I muſt go and invite them on ſhore.

’Twas G8v 136

’Twas Emily and Mrs. Melmoth, with two or three very pretty French women; your brother is a happy man: I found tea and coffee under the awning, and a table loaded with Montreal fruit, which is vaſtly better than ours; by the way, the colonel has bought me an immenſity; he is ſo gallant and all that: we regaled ourſelves, and landed; they dine here, and we dance in the evening; we are to have a ſyllabub in the wood: my father has ſent for Sir George and Major Melmoth, and half a dozen of the moſt agreable men, from Quebec: he is enchanted with his little Emily, he loved her when ſhe was a child. I cannot tell you how happy I am; my Emily is handſomer than ever; you know how partial I am to beauty: I never had a friendſhip for an ugly woman in my life.

Adieu! ma tres chere. Yours,

A. Fermor.

Your G9r 137

Your brother looks like an angel this morning; he is not dreſt, he is not undreſt, but ſomehow, eaſy, elegant and enchanting: he has no powder, and his hair a little degagée, blown about by the wind, and agreably diſordered; ſuch fire in his countenance; his eyes ſay a thouſand agreable things; he is in ſuch ſpirits as I never ſaw him: not a man of them has the leaſt chance to-day. I shall be in love with him if he goes on at this rate: not that it will be to any purpoſe in the world; he never would even flirt with me, though I have made him a thouſand advances.

My heart is ſo light, Lucy, I cannot deſcribe it: I love Emily at my ſoul: ’tis three years ſince I ſaw her, and there is ſomething ſo romantic in finding her in Canada: there is no ſaying how happy I am: I want only you, to be perfectly ſo.

The G9v 138

The meſſenger is returned: Sir George is gone with a party of French ladies to Lake Charles: Emily bluſhed when the meſſage was delivered; he might reaſonably ſuppoſe they would be here to-day, as the wind was fair: your brother dances with my ſweet friend; ſhe loſes nothing by the exchange; ſhe is however a little piqued at this appearance of diſreſpect.

Sir George came juſt as we ſat down to ſupper; he did right, he complained firſt, and affected to be angry ſhe had not ſent an expreſs from Point au Tremble. He was however gayer than uſual, and very attentive to his miſtreſs; your brother ſeeemed chagrined at his arrival; Emily perceived it, and redoubled her politeneſs to him, which in a little time reſtored part of his good G10r 139 good humor: upon the whole, it was an agreable evening, but it would have been more ſo, if Sir George had come at firſt, or not at all.

The ladies lie here, and we go all together in the morning to Quebec; the gentlemen are going.

I ſteal a moment to ſeal, and give this to the colonel, who will put it in his packet to-morrow.

Letter XXIV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Would you believe it poſſible, my dear, that Sir George ſhould decline attending Emily Montague from Montrealtreal, G10v 140 treal, and leave the pleaſing commiſſion to me? I am obliged to him for the three happieſt days of my life, yet am piqued at his chuſing me for a ceciſbeo to his miſtreſs: he ſeems to think me a man ſans conſequence, with whom a lady may ſafely be truſted; there is nothing very flattering in ſuch a kind of confidence: let him take care of himſelf, if he is impertinent, and ſets me at defiance; I am not vain, but ſet our fortunes aſide, and I dare enter the liſts with Sir George Clayton. I cannot give her a coach and ſix; but I can give her, what is more conducive to happineſs, a heart which knows how to value her perfections.

I never had ſo pleaſing a journey; we were three days coming down, becauſe we made it a continual party of pleaſure, took muſic with us, landed once or twice a day, viſited the French families we knew, lay both nights on ſhore, and danced at the ſeigneur’s of the village.

This G11r 141

This river, from Montreal to Quebec, exhibits a ſcene perhaps not to be matched in the world: it is ſettled on both ſides, though the ſettlements are not ſo numerous on the ſouth ſhore as on the other: the lovely confuſion of woods, mountains, meadows, corn fields, rivers (for there are several on both ſides, which loſe themſelves in the St. Lawrence, intermixed with churches and houſes breaking upon you at a diſtance through the trees, form a variety of landſcapes, to which it is difficult to do juſtice.

This charming ſcene, with a clear ſerene ſky, a gentle breeze in our favor, and the converſation of half a dozen fine women, would have made the voyage pleaſing to the moſt inſenſible man on earth: my Emily too of the party, and moſt politely attentive to the pleaſure ſhe ſaw I had in making the voyage agreable to her.

3 I every G11v 142

I every day love her more; and, without conſidering the impropriety of it, I cannot help giving way to an inclination, in which I find ſuch exquiſite pleaſure; I find a thouſand charms in the leaſt trifle I can do to oblige her.

Don’t reaſon with me on this ſubject: I know it is madneſs to continue to ſee her; but I find a delight in her converſation, which I cannot prevail on myſelf to give up till ſhe is actually married.

I reſpect her engagements, and pretend to no more from her than her friendſhip; but, as to myſelf, will love her in whatever manner I pleaſe: to ſhew you my prudence, however, I intend to dance with the handſomeſt unmarried Frenchwoman here on Thurſdays, and ſo ſhew her an attention which ſhall deſtroy all ſuſpicion of my tenderneſs for Emily. I am jealous of Sir George, and hate him; but I diſſemble it better than I thought it poſſible for me to do.

1 My G12r 143

My Lucy, I am not happy; my mind is in a ſtate not to be deſcribed; I am weak enough to encourage a hope for which there is not the leaſt foundation; I miſconſtrue her friendſhip for me every moment; and that attention which is meerly gratitude for my apparent anxiety to oblige. I even fancy her eyes underſtand mine, which I am afraid ſpeak too plainly the ſentiments of my heart.

I love her, my dear girl, to madneſs; theſe three days――

I am interrupted. Adieu! Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

’Tis Capt. Fermor, who inſiſts on my dining at Silleri. They will eternally throw me in the way of this lovely woman: of what materials do they ſuppoſe me formed?

Let- G12v 144

Letter XXV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

An enchanting ball, my dear; your little friend’s head is turned. I was more admired than Emily, which to be ſure did not flatter my vanity at all: I ſee ſhe muſt content herſelf with being beloved, for without coquetry ’tis in vain to expect admiration.

We had more than three hundred perſons at the ball; above three fourths men; all gay and well dreſſed, an elegant ſupper; in ſhort, it was charming.

I am half inclined to marry; I am not at all acquainted with the man I have fixed upon, I never ſpoke to him till laſt night, nor did he take the leaſt notice of me, more than H1r 145 than of other ladies, but that is nothing; he pleaſes me better than any man I have ſeen here; he is not handſome, but well made, and looks like a gentleman; he has a good character, is heir to a very pretty eſtate. I will think further of it: there is nothing more eaſy than to have him if I chuſe it: ’tis only ſaying to ſome of his friends, that I think Captain Fitzgerald the moſt agreable fellow here, and he will immediately be aſtoniſhed he did not ſooner find out I was the handſomeſt woman. I will conſider this affair ſeriouſly; one muſt marry, ’tis the mode; every body marries; why don’t you marry, Lucy?

This brother of yours is always here: I am ſurprized Sir George is not jealous, for he pays no ſort of attention to me, ’tis eaſy to ſee why he comes; I dare ſay I ſhan’t ſee him next week: Emily is going to Mrs. Melmoth’s, where ſhe ſtays till to-morrow ſevennight; ſhe goes from hence as ſoon as dinner is over.

Vol. I. H Adieu! H1v 146

Adieu! I am fatigued; we danced till morning; I am but this moment up.


A. Fermor.

Your brother danced with Mademoiſelle Clairaut; do you know I was piqued he did not give me the preference, as Emily danced with her lover? not but that I had perhaps a partner full as agreable, at leaſt I have a mind to think ſo. I hear it whiſpered that the whole affair of the wedding is to be ſettled next week; my father is in the ſecret, I am not. Emily looks ill this morning; ſhe was not gay at the ball. I know not why, but ſhe is not happy. I have my fancies, but they are yet only fancies. Adieu! my dear girl; I can no more.

Let- H2r 147

Letter XXVI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iam going, my Lucy.—I know not well whither I am going, but I will not ſtay to ſee this marriage. Could you have believed it poſſible—But what folly! Did I not know her ſituation from the firſt? Could I ſuppoſe ſhe would break off an engagement of years, with a man who gives ſo clear a proof that he prefers her to all other women, to humor the frenzy of one who has never even told her he loved her?

Captain Fermor aſſures me all is ſettled but the day, and that ſhe has promiſed to name that to-morrow.

I will leave Quebec to-night; no one ſhall know the road I take: I do not yet H2 know H2v 148 know it myſelf; I will croſs over to Point Levi with my valet de chambre, and go wherever chance directs me. I cannot bear even to hear the day named. I am ſtrongly inclined to write to her; but what can I ſay? I ſhould betray my tenderneſs in ſpite of myſelf, and her compaſſion would perhaps diſturb her approaching happineſs: were it even poſſible ſhe ſhould prefer me to Sir George, ſhe is too far gone to recede.

My Lucy, I never till this moment felt to what an exceſs I loved her.

Adieu! I ſhall be about a fortnight abſent: by that time ſhe will be embarked for England. I cannot bring myſelf to ſee her the wife of another. Do not be alarmed for me; reaſon and the impoſſibility of ſucceſs will conquer my paſſion for this angelic woman; I have been to blame in allowing myſelf to ſee her ſo often.


Ed. Rivers.

Let- H3r 149

Letter XXVII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ithink I breathe freer air now I am out of Quebec. I cannot bear whereever I go to meet this Sir George; his triumphant air is inſupportable; he has, or I fancy he has, all the inſolence of a happy rival; ’tis unjuſt, but I cannot avoid hating him; I look on him as a man who has deprived me of a good to which I fooliſhly fancy I had pretenſions.

My whole behaviour has been weak to the laſt degree: I ſhall grow more reaſonable when I no longer ſee this charming woman; I ought ſooner to have taken this ſtep.

I have found here an excuſe for my excurſion; I have heard of an eſtate to be H3 ſold H3v 150 ſold down the river; and am told the purchaſe will be leſs expence than clearing any lands I might take up. I will go and ſee it; it is an object, a purſuit, and will amuſe me.

I am going to ſend my ſervant back to Quebec; my manner of leaving it muſt appear extraordinary to my friends; I have therefore made this eſtate my excuſe. I have written to Miſs Fermor that I am going to make a purchaſe; have begged my warmeſt wiſhes to her lovely friend, for whoſe happineſs no one on earth is more anxious; but have told her Sir George is too much the object of my envy, to expect from me very ſincere congratulations.

Adieu! my ſervant waits for this. You ſhall hear an account of my adventures when I return to Quebec.


Ed. Rivers.

Let- H4r 151

Letter XXVIII.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Imust ſee you, my dear, this evening; my mind is in an agitation not to be expreſſed; a few hours will determine my happineſs or miſery for ever; I am diſpleaſed with your father for precipitating a determination which cannot be made with too much caution.

I have a thouſand things to ſay to you, which I can ſay to no one elſe.

Be at home, and alone; I will come to you as ſoon as dinner is over.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Emily Montague.

H4 Let- H4v 152

Letter XXIX.

To Miſs Montague, at Quebec.

Iwill be home, my dear; and denied to every body but you.

I pity you, my dear Emily; but I am unable to give you advice.

The world would wonder at your heſitating a moment.

Your faithful

A. Fermor.

Let- H5r 153

Letter XXX.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

My viſit to you is prevented by an event beyond my hopes. Sir George has this moment a letter from his mother, deſiring him earneſtly to poſtpone his marriage till ſpring, for ſome reaſons of conſequence to his fortune, with the particulars of which ſhe will acquaint him by the next packet.

He communicated this intelligence to me with a grave air, but with a tranquillity not to be deſcribed, and I received it with a joy I found it impoſſible wholly to conceal.

I have now time to conſult both my heart and my reaſon at leiſure, and to break with him, if neceſſary, by degrees.

H5 What H5v 154

What an eſcape have I had! I was within four and twenty hours of either determining to marry a man with whom I fear I have little chance to be happy, or of breaking with him in a manner that would have ſubjected one or both of us to the cenſures of a prying impertinent world, whoſe cenſures the moſt ſteady temper cannot always contemn.

I will own to you, my dear, I every hour have more dread of this marriage: his preſent ſituation has brought his faults into full light. Captain Clayton, with little more than his commiſſion, was modeſt, humble, affable to his inferiors, polite to all the world; and I fancied him poſſeſſed of thoſe more active virtues, which I ſuppoſed the ſmallneſs of his fortune prevented from appearing. ’Tis with pain I ſee that Sir George, with a ſplendid income, is avaricious, ſelfiſh, proud, vain, and profuſe; laviſh to every caprice of vanity and oſtentation2 tation H6r 155 tation which regards himſelf, coldly inattentive to the real wants of others.

Is this a character to make your Emily happy? We were not formed for each other: no two minds were ever ſo different; my happineſs is in friendſhip, in the tender affections, in the ſweets of dear domeſtic life; his in the idle parade of affluence, in dreſs, in equipage, in all that ſplendor, which, whilſt it excites envy, is too often the mark of wretchedneſs.

Shall I ſay more? Marriage is ſeldom happy where there is a great diſproportion of fortune. The lover, after he loſes that endearing character in the huſband, which in common minds I am afraid is not long, begins to reflect how many more thouſands he might have expected; and perhaps ſuſpects his miſtreſs of thoſe intereſted motives in marrying, of which he now feels his own heart capable. Coldneſs, ſuſpicion, and H6 mutual H6v 156 mutual want of eſteem and confidence, follow of courſe.

I will come back with you to Silleri this evening; I have no happineſs but when I am with you. Mrs. Melmoth is ſo fond of Sir George, ſhe is eternally perſecuting me with his praiſes; ſhe is extremely mortified at this delay, and very angry at the manner in which I behave upon it.

Come to us directly, my dear Bell, and rejoice with your faithful

Emily Montague.

Letter XXXI.

To Miſs Montague, at Quebec.

Icongratulate you, my dear; you will at leaſt have the pleaſure of being five or ſix months longer your own miſtreſs; which, H7r 157 which, in my opinion, when one is not violently in love, is a conſideration worth attending to. You will alſo have time to ſee whether you like any body elſe better; and you know you can take him if you pleaſe at laſt.

Send him up to his regiment at Montreal with the Melmoths; ſtay the winter with me, flirt with ſomebody elſe to try the ſtrength of your paſſion, and, if it holds out againſt ſix months abſence, and the attention of an agreable fellow, I think you may ſafely venture to marry him.

A propos to flirting, have you ſeen Colonel Rivers? He has not been here theſe two days. I ſhall begin to be jealous of this little impertinent Mademoiſelle Clairaut. Adieu!


A. Fermor.

Rivers H7v 158

Rivers is abſurd. I have a mighty fooliſh letter from him; he is rambling about the country, buying eſtates: he had better have been here, playing the fool with us; if I knew how to write to him I would tell him ſo, but he is got out of the range of human beings, down the river, Heaven knows where; he ſays a thouſand civil things to you, but I will bring the letter with me to ſave the trouble of repeating them. I have a ſort of an idea he won’t be very unhappy at this delay; I want vaſtly to ſend him word of it. Adieu! ma chere.

Let- H8r 159

Letter XXXII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iam at preſent, my dear Lucy, in the wildeſt country on earth; I mean of thoſe which are inhabited at all: ’tis for ſeveral leagues almoſt a continual foreſt, with only a few ſtraggling houſes on the river ſide; ’tis however of not the leaſt conſequence to me, all places are equal to me where Emily is not.

I ſeek amuſement, but without finding it: ſhe is never one moment from my thoughts; I am every hour on the point of returning to Quebec; I cannot ſupport the idea of her leaving the country without my ſeeing her.

’Tis H8v 160

’Tis a lady who has this eſtate to ſell: I am at preſent at her houſe; ſhe is very amiable; a widow about thirty, with an agreable perſon, great vivacity, an excellent underſtanding, improved by reading, to which the abſolute ſolitude of her ſituation has obliged her; ſhe has an open pleaſing countenance, with a candor and ſincerity in her converſation which would pleaſe me, if my mind was in a ſtate to be pleaſed with any thing. Through all the attention and civility I think myſelf obliged to ſhew her, ſhe ſeems to perceive the melancholy which I cannot ſhake off: ſhe is always contriving ſome little party for me, as if ſhe knew how much I am in want of amuſement.

Madame Des Roches is very kind; ſhe ſees my chagrin, and takes every method to H9r 161 to divert it: ſhe inſiſts on my going in her ſhallop to ſee the laſt ſettlement on the river, oppoſite the Iſle of Barnaby; ſhe does me the honor to accompany me, with a gentleman and lady who live about a mile from her.

I have been paying a very ſingular viſit; ’tis to a hermit, who has lived ſixty years alone on this iſland; I came to him with a ſtrong prejudice againſt him; I have no opinion of thoſe who fly ſociety; who ſeek a ſtate of all others the moſt contrary to our nature. Were I a tyrant, and wiſhed to inflict the moſt cruel puniſhment human nature could ſupport, I would ſeclude criminals from the joys of ſociety, and deny them the endearing ſight of their ſpecies.

I am certain I could not exiſt a year alone: I am miſerable even in that degree of H9v 162 of ſolitude to which one is confined in a ſhip; no words can ſpeak the joy which I felt when I came to America, on the firſt appearance of ſomething like the chearful haunts of men; the firſt man, the firſt houſe, nay the firſt Indian fire of which I ſaw the ſmoke riſe above the trees, gave me the moſt lively tranſport that can be conceived; I felt all the force of thoſe ties which unite us to each other, of that ſocial love to which we owe all our happineſs here.

But to my hermit: his appearance diſarmed my diſlike; he is a tall old man, with white hair and beard, the look of one who has known better days, and the ſtrongeſt marks of benevolence in his countenance. He received me with the utmoſt hoſpitality, ſpread all his little ſtores of fruit before me, fetched me freſh milk, and water from a ſpring near his houſe.

After H10r 163

After a little converſation, I expreſſed my aſtoniſhment, that a man of whoſe kindneſs and humanity I had juſt had ſuch proof, could find his happineſs in flying mankind: I ſaid a good deal on the ſubject, to which he liſtened with the politeſt attention.

You appear, ſaid he, of a temper to pity the miſeries of others. My ſtory is ſhort and ſimple: I loved the moſt amiable of women; I was beloved. The avarice of our parents, who both had more gainful views for us, prevented an union on which our happineſs depended. My Louiſa, who was threatened with an immediate marriage with a man ſhe deteſted, propoſed to me to fly the tyranny of our friends: ſhe had an uncle at Quebec, to whom ſhe was dear. The wilds of Canada, ſaid ſhe, may afford us that refuge our cruel country denies “us. H10v 164 us. After a ſecret marriage, we embarked. Our voyage was thus far happy; I landed on the oppoſite ſhore, to ſeek refreſhments for my Louiſa; I was returning, pleaſed with the thought of obliging the object of all my tenderneſs, when a beginning ſtorm drove me to ſeek ſhelter in this bay. The ſtorm encreaſed, I ſaw its progreſs with agonies not to be deſcribed; the ſhip, which was in ſight, was unable to reſiſt its fury; the ſailors crowded into the boat; they had the humanity to place my Louiſa there; they made for the ſpot where I was, my eyes were wildly fixed on them; I ſtood eagerly on the utmoſt verge of the water, my arms ſtretched out to receive her, my prayers ardently addreſſed to Heaven, when an immenſe wave broke over the boat; I heard a general ſhriek; I even fancied I diſtinguiſhed my Louiſa’s cries; it ſubſided, the ſailors again exerted all their force; a ſecond wave—I ſaw them no more.

“Never H11r 165

Never will that dreadful ſcene be abſent one moment from my memory: I fell ſenſeleſs on the beach; when I returned to life, the firſt object I beheld was the breathleſs body of my Louiſa at my feet. Heaven gave me the wretched conſolation of rendering to her the laſt ſad duties. In that grave all my happineſs lies buried. I knelt by her, and breathed a vow to Heaven, to wait here the moment that ſhould join me to all I held dear. I every morning viſit her loved remains, and implore the God of mercy to haſten my diſſolution. I feel that we ſhall not long be ſeparated; I ſhall ſoon meet her, to part no more.

He ſtopped, and, without ſeeming to remember he was not alone, walked haſtily towards a little oratory he has built on the beach, near which is the grave of his Louiſa; I followed him a few ſteps, I ſaw 3 him H11v 166 him throw himſelf on his knees, and, reſpecting his ſorrow, returned to the houſe.

Though I cannot abſolutely approve, yet I more than forgive, I almoſt admire, his renouncing the world in his ſituation. Devotion is perhaps the only balm for the wounds given by unhappy love; the heart is too much ſoftened by true tenderneſs to admit any common cure.

I am returned to Madame Des Roches and her friends, who declined viſiting the hermit. I found in his converſation all which could have adorned ſociety; he was pleaſed with the ſympathy I ſhewed for his ſufferings; we parted with regret. I wiſhed to have made him a preſent, but he will receive nothing.

A ſhip for England is in ſight. Madame Des Roches is ſo polite to ſend off this letter;ter; H12r 167 ter; we return to her houſe in the morning.

Adieu! my Lucy. Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Letter XXXIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihave no patience with this fooliſh brother of yours; he is rambling about in the woods when we want him here: we have a moſt agreeable aſſembly every Thurſday at the General’s, and have had another ball ſince he has been gone on this ridiculous ramble; I miſs the dear creature whereever I go. We have nothing but balls, cards, and parties of pleaſure; but they are nothing without my little Rivers.

I have H12v 168

I have been making the tour of the three religions this morning, and, as I am the moſt conſtant creature breathing; am come back only a thouſand times more pleaſed with my own. I have been at maſs, at church, and at the preſbyterian meeting: an idea ſtruck me at the laſt, in regard to the drapery of them all; that the Romiſh religion is like an over-dreſſed, tawdry, rich citizen’s wife; the presbyterian like a rude aukward country girl; the church of England like an elegant well-dreſſed woman of quality, plain in her neatneſs (to quote Horace, who is my favorite author). There is a noble, graceful ſimplicity both in the worſhip and the ceremonies of the church of England, which, even if I were a ſtranger to her doctrines, would prejudice me ſtrongly in her favor.

Sir George ſets out for Montreal this evening, ſo do the houſe of Melmoth; I have however prevailed on Emily to ſtay a month I1r 169 month or two longer with me. I am rejoiced Sir George is going away; I am tired of ſeeing that eternal ſmile, that countenance of his, which attempts to ſpeak, and ſays nothing. I am in doubt whether I ſhall let Emily marry him; ſhe will die in a week, of no diſtemper but his converſation.

They dine with us. I am called down. Adieu!

Heaven be praiſed, our lover is gone; they parted with great philoſophy on both ſides: they are the prettieſt mild pairs of inamoratoes one ſhall ſee.

Your brother’s ſervant has juſt called to tell me his going to his maſter. I have a great mind to anſwer his letter, and order him back.

Vol. I. I Let- I1v 170

Letter XXXIV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihave been looking at the eſtate Madame Des Roches has to ſell; it is as wild as the lands to which I have a right; I hoped this would have amuſed my chagrin, but am miſtaken: nothing intereſts me, nothing takes up my attention one moment: my mind admits but one idea. This charming woman follows me wherever I go; I wander about like the firſt man when driven out of paradiſe: I vainly fancy every change of place will relieve the anxiety of my mind.

Madame Des Roches ſmiles, and tells me I am in love; ’tis however a ſmile of tenderneſs and compaſſion: your ſex have great I2r 171 great penetration in whatever regards the heart.

I have this moment a letter from Miſs Fermor, to preſs my return to Quebec; ſhe tells me, Emily’s marriage is poſtponed till ſpring. My Lucy! how weak is the human heart! In ſpite of myſelf, a ray of hope—I ſet off this inſtant: I cannot conceal my joy.

Letter XXXV.

To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

You have no idea, Ned, how much your abſence is lamented by the dowagers, to whom, it muſt be owned, your charity has been pretty extenſive.

I2 It I2v 172

It would delight you to ſee them condoling with each other on the loſs of the dear charming man, the man of ſentiment, of true taſte, who admires the maturer beauties, and thinks no woman worth purſuing till turned of twenty-five: ’tis a loſs not to be made up; for your taſte, it muſt be owned, is pretty ſingular.

I have ſeen your laſt favorite, Lady H――, who aſſures me, on the word of a woman of honour, that, had you ſtaid ſeven years in London, ſhe does not think ſhe ſhould have had the leaſt inclination to change: but an abſent lover, ſhe well obſerved, is, properly ſpeaking, no lover at all. Bid Colonel Rivers remember, ſaid ſhe, what I have read ſomewhere, the parting words of a French lady to a biſhop of her acquaintance, Let your abſence be ſhort, my lord; and remember that a miſtreſs is a benefice which obliges to reſidence.

3 I am I3r 173

I am told, you had not been gone a week before Jack Willmott had the honor of drying up the fair widow’s tears.

I am going this evening to Vauxhall, and to-morrow propoſe ſetting out for my houſe in Rutland, from whence you ſhall hear from me again.

Adieu! I never write long letters in London. I ſhould tell you, I have been to ſee Mrs. Rivers and your ſiſter; the former is well, but very anxious to have you in England again; the latter grows ſo very handſome, I don’t intend to repeat my viſits often.


J. Temple.

I3 Let- I3v 174

Letter XXXVI.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

Iam this moment arrived from a ramble down the river; but, a ſhip being juſt going, muſt acknowledge your laſt.

You make me happy in telling me my dear Lady H―― has given my place in her heart to ſo honeſt a fellow as Jack Willmott; and I ſincerely wiſh the ladies always choſe their favorites as well.

I ſhould be very unreaſonable indeed to expect conſtancy at almoſt four thouſand miles diſtance, eſpecially when the proſpect of my return is ſo very uncertain.

My voyage ought undoubtedly to be conſidered as an abdication: I am to all intentstents I4r 175 tents and purpoſes dead in law as a lover; and the lady has a right to conſider her heart as vacant, and to proceed to a new election.

I claim no more than a ſhare in her eſteem and remembrance, which I dare ſay I ſhall never want.

That I have amuſed myſelf a little in the dowager way, I am very far from denying; but you will obſerve, it was leſs from taſte than the principle of doing as little miſchief as poſſible in my few excurſions to the world of gallantry. A little deviation from the exact rule of right we men all allow ourſelves in love affairs; but I was willing to keep as near it as I could. Married women are, on my principles, forbidden fruit; I abhor the ſeduction of innocence; I am too delicate, and (with all my modeſty) too vain, to be pleaſed with venal beauty: what was I then to do, with a heart too active to be abſolutely at reſt, I4 and I4v 176 and which had not met with its counterpart? Widows were, I thought, fair prey, as being ſufficiently experienced to take care of themſelves.

I have ſaid married women are, on my principles, forbidden fruit: I ſhould have explained myſelf; I mean in England, for my ideas on this head change as ſoon as I land at Calais.

Such is the amazing force of local prejudice, that I do not recollect having ever made love to an Engliſh married woman, or a French unmarried one. Marriages in France being made by the parents, and therefore generally without inclination on either ſide, gallantry ſeems to be a tacit condition, though not abſolutely expreſſed in the contract.

But to return to my plan: I think it an excellent one; and would recommend it to all thoſe young men about town, who, like me, find I5r 177 find in their hearts the neceſſity of loving, before they meet with an object capable of fixing them for life.

By the way, I think the widows ought to raiſe a ſtatue in my honor, for having done my possible to prove that, for the ſake of decorum, morals, and order, they ought to have all the men to themſelves.

I have this moment your letter from Rutland. Do you know that I am almoſt angry? Your ideas of love are narrow and pedantic; cuſtom has done enough to make the life of one half of our ſpecies taſtleſs; but you would reduce them to a ſtate of ſtill greater inſipidity than even that to which our tyranny has doomed them.

You would limit the pleaſure of loving and being beloved, and the charming power of pleaſing, to three or four years only in the life of that ſex which is peculiarly formed to feel tenderneſs; women are born I5 with I5v 178 with more lively affections than men, which are ſtill more ſoftened by education; to deny them the privilege of being amiable, the only privilege we allow them, as long as nature continues them ſo, is ſuch a mixture of cruelty and falſe taſte as I ſhould never have ſuſpected you of, notwithſtanding your partiality for unripened beauty.

As to myſelf, I perſiſt in my opinion, that women are moſt charming when they join the attractions of the mind to thoſe of the perſon, when they feel the paſſion they inſpire; or rather, that they are never charming till then.

A woman in the firſt bloom of youth reſembles a tree in bloſſom, when mature in fruit; but a woman who retains the charms of her perſon till her underſtanding is in its full perfection, is like thoſe trees in happier climes, which produce bloſſoms and fruit together.

You I6r 179

You will ſcarce believe, Jack, that I have lived a week téte à téte, in the midſt of a wood, with juſt the woman I have been deſcribing; a widow extremely my taſte, mature, five or ſix years more ſo than you ſay I require, lively, ſenſible, handſome, without ſaying one civil thing to her; yet nothing can be more certain.

I could give you powerful reaſons for my inſenſibility; but you are a traitor to love, and therefore have no right to be in any of his ſecrets.

I will excuſe your viſits to my ſiſter; as well as I love you myſelf, I have a thouſand reaſons for chuſing ſhe ſhould not be acquainted with you.

What you ſay in regard to my mother, gives me pain; I will never take back my little gift to her; and I cannot live in EnglandI6 land I6v 180 land on my preſent income, though it enables me to live en prince in Canada.

Adieu! I have not time to ſay more. I have ſtole this half hour from the lovelieſt woman breathing, whom I am going to viſit: ſurely you are infinitely obliged to me. To leſſen the obligation, however, my calaſh is not yet come to the door.

Adieu! once more. Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Letter XXXVII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Our wanderer is returned, my dear, and in ſuch ſpirits as you can’t conceive: he paſſed yeſterday with us; he likes I7r 181 likes to have us to himſelf, and he had yeſterday; we walked à trio in the wood, and were fooliſh; I have not paſſed ſo agreable a day ſince I came to Canada: I love mightily to be fooliſh, and the people here have no taſte that way at all: your brother is divinely ſo upon occaſion. The weather was, to uſe the Canadian phraſe, ſuperbe et magnifique. We ſhall not, I am told, have much more in the ſame magnifique ſtyle, ſo we intend to make the moſt of it: I have ordered your brother to come and walk with us from morning till night; every day and all the day.

The dear man was amazingly overjoyed to ſee us again; we ſhared his joy, though my little Emily took ſome pains to appear tranquil on the occaſion: I never ſaw more pleaſure in the countenances of two people in my life, nor more pains taken to ſuppreſs it.

Do I7v 182

Do you know Fitzgerald is really an agreable fellow? I have an admirable natural inſtinct; I perceived he had underſtanding, from his aquiline noſe and his eagle eye, which are indexes I never knew fail. I believe we are going to be great; I am not ſure I ſhall not admit him to make up a partie quarrée with your brother and Emily: I told him my original plot upon him, and he was immenſely pleaſed with it. I almoſt fancy he can be fooliſh; in that caſe, my buſineſs is done: if with his other merits he has that, I am a loſt woman.

He has excellent ſenſe, great good nature, and the true princely ſpirit of an Iriſhman: he will be ruined here, but that is his affair, not mine. He changed quarters with an officer now at Montreal; and, becauſe the lodgings were to be furniſhed, thought himſelf obliged to leave three months wine in the cellars.

His I8r 183

His perſon is pleaſing; he has good eyes and teeth (the only beauties I require), is marked with the ſmall pox, which in men gives a ſenſible look; very manly, and looks extremely like a gentleman.

He comes, the conqueror comes.

I ſee him plainly through the trees; he is now in full view, within twenty yards of the houſe. He looks particularly well on horſeback, Lucy; which is one certain proof of a good education. The fellow is well born, and has ideas of things: I think I ſhall admit him of my train.

Emily wonders have I never been in love: the cauſe is clear; I have prevented any attachment to one man, by conſtantly flirting with twenty: ’tis the moſt ſovereign receipt in the world. I think, too, my dear, you have maintained a ſort of running fight with I8v 184 with the little deity: our hour is not yet come. Adieu!


A. Fermor.


To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iam returned, my dear, and have had the pleaſure of hearing you and my mother are well, though I have had no letters from either of you.

Mr. Temple, my deareſt Lucy, tells me he has viſited you. Will you pardon me a freedom which nothing but the moſt tender friendſhip can warrant, when I tell you that I9r 185 that I would wiſh you to be as little acquainted with him as politeneſs allows? He is a moſt agreable man, perhaps too agreable, with a thouſand amiable qualities; he is the man I love above all others; and, where women are not concerned, a man of the moſt unblemiſhed honor: but his manner of life is extremely libertine, and his ideas of women unworthy the reſt of his character; he knows not the perfections which adorn the valuable part of your ſex, he is a ſtranger to your virtues, and incapable, at leaſt I fear ſo, of that tender affection which alone can make an amiable woman happy. With all this, he is polite and attentive, and has a manner, which, without intending it, is calculated to deceive women into an opinion of his being attached when he is not: he has all the ſplendid virtues which command eſteem; is noble, generous, diſintereſted, open, brave; and is the moſt dangerous man on earth to a woman of I9v 186 of honor, who is unacquainted with the arts of man.

Do not however miſtake me, my Lucy; I know him to be as incapable of forming improper deſigns on you, even were you not the ſiſter of his friend, as you are of liſtening to him if he did: ’tis for your heart alone I am alarmed; he is formed to pleaſe; you are young and inexperienced, and have not yet loved; my anxiety for your peace makes me dread your loving a man whoſe views are not turned to marriage, and who is therefore incapable of returning properly the tenderneſs of a woman of honor.

I have ſeen my divine Emily: her manner of receiving me was very flattering; I cannot doubt her friendſhip for me; yet I am not abſolutely content. I am however convinced, by the eaſy tranquillity of her air, and her manner of bearing this delay of their marriage, that ſhe does not love the I10r 187 the man for whom ſhe is intended: ſhe has been a victim to the avarice of her friends. I would fain hope—yet what have I to hope? If I had even the happineſs to be agreable to her, if ſhe was diſengaged from Sir George, my fortune makes it impoſſible for me to marry her, without reducing her to indigence at home, or dooming her to be an exile in Canada for life. I dare not aſk myſelf what I wiſh or intend: yet I give way in ſpite of me to the delight of ſeeing and converſing with her.

I muſt not look forward; I will only enjoy the preſent pleaſure of believing myſelf one of the firſt in her eſteem and friendſhip, and of ſhowing her all thoſe little pleaſing attentions ſo dear to a ſenſible heart; attentions in which her lover is aſtoniſhingly remiſs: he is at Montreal, and I am told was gay and happy on his journey thither, though he left his miſtreſs behind.

I have I10v 188

I have ſpent two very happy days at Silleri with Emily and your friend Bell Fermor: to-morrow I meet them at the governor’s, where there is a very agreable aſſembly on Thurſday evenings. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

I ſhall write again by a ſhip which ſails next week.

Letter XXXIX.

To John Temple,Eſq; Pall Mall.

Ihave this moment a letter from Madame Des Roches, the lady at whoſe houſe I ſpent a week, and to whom I am greatly I11r 189 greatly obliged. I am ſo happy as to have an opportunity of rendering her a ſervice, in which I muſt deſire your aſſiſtance.

’Tis in regard to ſome lands belonging to her, which, not being ſettled, ſome other perſon has applied for a grant of a home. I ſend you the particulars, and beg you will loſe no time in entering a caveat, and taking other proper ſteps to prevent what would be an act of great injuſtice: the war and the incurſions of the Indians in alliancee with us have hitherto prevented theſe lands from being ſettled, but Madame Des Roches is actually in treaty with ſome Acadians to ſettle them immediately. Employ all your friends as well as mine if neceſſary; my lawyer will direct you in what manner to apply, and pay the expences attending the application. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

Let- I11v 190

Letter XL.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Idanced laſt night till four o’clock in the morning (if you will allow the expreſſion), without being the leaſt fatigued: the little Fitzgerald was my partner, who grows upon me extremely; the monkey has a way of being attentive and careleſs by turns, which has an amazing effect; nothing attaches a woman of my temper ſo much to a lover as her being a little in fear of loſing him; and he keeps up the ſpirit of the thing admirably.

Your brother and Emily danced together, and I think I never ſaw either of them look ſo handſome; ſhe was a thouſand times more admired at this ball than the firſt, and reaſon good, for ſhe was a thouſand times I12r 191 times more agreable; your brother is really a charming fellow, he is an immenſe favorite with the ladies; he has that very pleaſing general attention, which never fails to charm women; he can even be particular to one, without wounding the vanity of the reſt: if he was in company with twenty, his miſtreſs of the number, his manner would be ſuch, that every woman there would think herſelf the ſecond in his eſteem; and that, if his heart had not been unluckily pre-engaged, ſhe herſelf ſhould have been the object of his tenderneſs.

His eyes are of immenſe uſe to him; he looks the civileſt things imaginable; his whole countenance ſpeaks whatever he wiſhes to ſay; he has the leaſt occaſion for words to explain himſelf of any man I ever knew.

Fitzgerald has eyes too, I aſſure you, and eyes that know how to ſpeak; he has a 1 look I12v 192 look of ſaucy unconcern and inattention, which is really irreſiſtible.

We have had a great deal of ſnow already, but it melts away; ’tis a lovely day, but an odd enough mixture of ſummer and winter; in ſome places you ſee half a foot of ſnow lying, in others the duſt is even troubleſome.

Adieu! there are a dozen or two of beaux at the door.


A. Fermor.

Let- K1r 193

Letter XLI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

The ſavages aſſure us, my dear, on the information of the beavers, that we ſhall have a very mild winter: it ſeems, theſe creatures have laid in a leſs winter ſtock than uſual. I take it very ill, Lucy, that the beavers have better intelligence than we have.

We are got into a pretty compoſed eaſy way; Sir George writes very agreable, ſenſible, ſentimental, goſſiping letters, once a fortnight, which Emily anſwers in due courſe, with all the regularity of a countinghouſe correſpondence; he talks of coming down after Chriſtmas: we expect him without impatience; and in the mean time amuſe ourſelves as well as we can, and ſoften Vol. I. K the K1v 194 the pain of abſence by the attention of a man that I fancy we like quite as well.

With ſubmiſſion to the beavers, the weather is very cold, and we have had a great deal of ſnow already; but they tell me ’tis nothing to what we ſhall have: they are taking precautions which make me ſhudder beforehand, paſting up the windows, and not leaving an avenue where cold can enter.

I like the winter carriages immenſely; the open carriole is a kind of one-horſe chaiſe, the covered one a chariot, ſet on a ſledge to run on the ice; we have not yet had ſnow enough to uſe them, but I like their appearance prodigiouſly; the covered carrioles ſeem the prettieſt things in nature to make love in, as there are curtains to draw before the windows: we ſhall have three in effect, my father’s, River’s, and Fitzgerald’s; the two latter are to be elegance itſelf, and entirely for the ſervice of the ladies: K2r 195 ladies: your brother and Fitzgerald are trying who ſhall be ruined firſt for the honor of their country. I will bet three to one upon Ireland. They are every day contriving parties of pleaſure, and making the moſt gallant little preſents imaginable to the ladies.

Adieu! my dear. Yours,

A. Fermor.

Letter XLII.

To Miſs Rivers.

Ishall not, my dear, have above one more opportunity of writing to you by the ſhips; after which we can only write by the packet once a month.

K2 My K2v 196

My Emily is every day more lovely; I ſee her often, and every hour diſcover new charms in her; ſhe has an exalted underſtanding, improved by all the knowledge which is becoming in your ſex; a ſoul awake to all the finer ſenſations of the heart, checked and adorned by the native lovelineſs of woman: ſhe is extremely handſome, but ſhe would pleaſe every feeling heart if ſhe was not; ſhe has the ſoul of beauty: without feminine ſoftneſs and delicate ſenſibility, no features can give lovelineſs; with them, very indifferent ones can charm: that ſenſibility, that ſoftneſs, never were ſo lovely as in my Emily. I can write on no other ſubject. Were you to ſee her, my Lucy, you would forgive me. My letter is called for. Adieu!


Ed. Rivers.

Your friend Miſs Fermor will write you every thing.

Let- K3r 197

Letter XLIII.

To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

Mr. Melmoth and I, my dear Emily; expected by this time to have ſeen you at Montreal. I allow ſomething to your friendſhip for Miſs Fermor; but there is alſo ſomething due to relations who tenderly love you, and under whoſe protection your uncle left you at his death.

I ſhould add, that there is ſomething due to Sir George, had I not already diſpleaſed you by what I have ſaid on the ſubject.

You are not to be told, that in a week the road from hence to Quebec will be impaſſable for at leaſt a month, till the rivers are ſufficiently froze to bear carriages.

K3 I will K3v 198

I will own to you, that I am a little jealous of your attachment to Miſs Fermor, though no one can think her more amiable than I do.

If you do not come this week, I would wiſh you to ſtay till Sir George comes down, and return with him; I will entreat the favor of Miſs Fermor to accompany you to Montreal, which we will endeavour to make as agreable to her as we can.

I have been ill of a ſlight fever, but am now perfectly recovered. Sir George and Mr. Melmoth are well, and very impatient to ſee you here.

Adieu! my dear. Your affectionate

E. Melmoth.

Let- K4r 199

Letter XLIV.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

Ihave a thouſand reaſons, my deareſt Madam, for intreating you to excuſe my ſtaying ſome time longer at Quebec. I have the ſincereſt eſteem for Sir George, and am not inſenſible of the force of our engagements; but do not think his being there a reaſon for my coming: the kind of ſuſpended ſtate, to ſay no more, in which thoſe engagements now are, call for a delicacy in my behaviour to him, which is ſo difficult to obſerve without the appearance of affectation, that his abſence relieves me for a very painful kind of reſtraint: for the ſame reaſon, ’tis impoſſible for me to come up at the time he does, if I do come, even though Miſs Fermor ſhould accompany me.

K4 A mo- K4v 200

A moment’s reflexion will convince you of the propriety of my ſtaying here till his mother does me the honor again to approve his choice; or till our engagement is publicly known to be at an end. Mrs. Clayton is a prudent mother, and a woman of the world, and may conſider that Sir George’s ſituation is changed ſince ſhe conſented to his marriage.

I am not capricious; but I will own to you, that my eſteem for Sir George is much leſſened by his behaviour ſince his laſt return from New-York: he miſtakes me extremely, if he ſuppoſes he has the leaſt additional merit in my eyes from his late acquiſition of fortune: on the contrary, I now ſee faults in him which were concealed by the mediocrity of his ſituation before, and which do not promiſe happineſs to a heart like mine, a heart which has little taſte for the falſe glitter of life, and the moſt K5r 201 moſt lively one poſſible for the calm real delights of friendſhip, and domeſtic felicity.

Accept my ſincereſt congratulations on your return of health; and believe me, My deareſt Madam, Your obliged and affectionate

Emily Montague.

Letter XLV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihave been ſeeing the laſt ſhip go out of the port, Lucy; you have no notion what a melancholy ſight it is: we are now left to ourſelves, and ſhut up from all the world for the winter: ſomehow we K5 ſeem K5v 202 ſeem ſo forſaken, ſo cut off from the reſt of human kind, I cannot bear the idea: I ſent a thouſand ſighs and a thouſand tender wiſhes to dear England, which I never loved ſo much as at this moment.

Do you know, my dear, I could cry if I was not aſhamed? I ſhall not abſolutely be in ſpirits again this week.

’Tis the firſt time I have felt any thing like bad ſpirits in Canada: I followed the ſhip with my eyes till it turned Point Levi, and, when I loſt ſight of it, felt as if I had loſt every thing dear to me on earth. I am not particular: I ſee a gloom on every countenance; I have been at church, and think I never ſaw ſo many dejected faces in my life.

Adieu! for the preſent: it will be a fortnight before I can ſend this letter; another agreable circumſtance that: would to K6r 203 to Heaven I were in England, though I changed the bright ſun of Canada for a fog!

We have had a week’s ſnow without intermiſſion: happily for us, your brother and the Fitz have been weather-bound all the time at Silleri, and cannot poſſibly get away.

We have amuſed ourſelves within doors, for there is no ſtirring abroad, with playing at cards, playing at ſhuttlecock, playing the fool, making love, and making moral reflexions: upon the whole, the week has not been very diſagreable.

The ſnow is when we wake conſtantly up to our chamber windows; we are literally dug out of it every morning.

K6 As K6v 204

As to Quebec, I give up all hopes of ever ſeeing it again: but my comfort is, that people there cannot poſſibly get to their neighbors; and I flatter myſelf very few of them have been half ſo well entertained at home.

We ſhall be abuſed, I know, for (what is really the fault of the weather) keeping theſe two creatures here this week; the ladies hate us for engroſſing two ſuch fine fellows as your brother and Fitzgerald, as well as for having vaſtly more than our ſhare of all the men: we generally go out attended by at leaſt a dozen, without any other woman but a lively old French lady, who is a flirt of my father’s, and will certainly be my mamma.

We ſweep into the general’s aſſembly on Thurſdays with ſuch a train of beaux as draws every eye upon us: the reſt of the fellows crowd round us; the miſſes draw up, bluſh, and flutter their fans; and 5 your K7r 205 your little Bell ſits down with ſuch a fancy impertinent conſciouſneſs in her countenance as is really provoking: Emily on the contrary looks mild and humble, and ſeems by her civil decent air to apologize to them for being ſo much more agreable than themſelves, which is a fault I for my part am not in the leaſt inclined to be aſhamed of.

Your idea of Quebec, my dear, is perfectly juſt; it is like a third or fourth rate country town in England; much hoſpitality, little ſociety; cards, ſcandal, dancing, and good chear; all excellent things to paſs away a winter evening, and peculiarly adapted to what I am told, and what I begin to feel, of the ſeverity of this climate.

I am told they abuſe me, which I can eaſily believe, becauſe my impertinence to them deſerves it: but what care I, you know, Lucy, ſo long as I pleaſe myſelf, and am at Silleri out of the ſound?

They K7v 206

They are ſquabbling at Quebec, I hear, about I cannot tell what, therefore ſhall not attempt to explain: ſome dregs of old diſputes, it ſeems, which have had not time to ſettle: however, we new comers have certainly nothing to do with theſe matters: you can’t think how comfortable we feel at Silleri, out of the way.

My father ſays, the politics of Canada are as complex and as difficult to be underſtood as thoſe of the Germanic ſyſtem.

For my part, I think no politics worth attending to but thoſe of the little commonwealth of woman: if I can maintain my empire over hearts, I leave the men to quarrel for every thing elſe.

I obſerve a ſtrict neutrality, that I may have a chance for admirers amongſt both parties. Adieu! the poſt is juſt going out.

Your faithful

A. Fermor.

Let- K8r 207

Letter XLVI.

To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

There is ſomething, my dear Emily, in what you ſay as to the delicacy of your ſituation; but, whilſt you are ſo very exact in acting up to it on one ſide, do you not a little overlook it on the other?

I am extremely unwilling to ſay a diſagreable thing to you, but Miſs Fermor is too young as well as too gay to be a protection—the very particular circumſtance you mention makes Mr. Melmoth’s the only houſe in Canada in which, if I have any judgment, you can with propriety live till your marriage takes place.

You K8v 208

You extremely injure Sir George in ſuppoſing it poſſible he ſhould fail in his engagements: and I ſee with pain that you are more quickſighted to his failings than is quite conſiſtent with that tenderneſs, which (allow me to ſay) he has a right to expect from you. He is like other men of his age and fortune; he is the very man you ſo lately thought amiable, and of whoſe love you cannot without injuſtice have a doubt.

Though I approve your contempt of the falſe glitter of the world, yet I think it a little ſtrained at your time of life: did I not know you as well as I do, I ſhould ſay that philoſophy in a young and eſpecially a female mind, is ſo out of ſeaſon, as to be extremely ſuſpicious. The pleaſures which attend on affluence are too great, and too pleaſing to youth, to be overlooked, exceptcept K9r 209 cept when under the influence of a livelier paſſion.

Take care, my Emily; I know the goodneſs of your heart, but I alſo know its ſenſibility; remember that, if your ſituation requires great circumſpection in your behaviour to Sir George, it requires much greater to every other perſon: it is even more delicate than marriage itſelf.

I ſhall expect you and Miſs Fermor as ſoon as the roads are ſuch that you can travel agreably; and, as you object to Sir George as a conductor, I will entreat Captain Fermor to accompany you hither.

I am, my dear, Your moſt affectionate

E. Melmoth.

Let- K9v 210

Letter XLVII.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

Ientreat you, my deareſt Madam, to do me the juſtice to believe I ſee my engagement to Sir George in as ſtrong a light as you can do; if there is any change in my behaviour to him, it is owing to the very apparent one in his conduct to me, of which no one but myſelf can be a judge. As to what you ſay in regard to my contempt of affluence, I can only ſay it is in my character, whether it is generally in the female one or not.

Were the cruel hint you are pleaſed to give juſt, be aſſured Sir George ſhould be the firſt perſon to whom I would declare it. I hope however it is poſſible to eſteem merit K10r 211 merit without offending even the moſt ſacred of all engagements.

A gentleman waits for this. I have only time to ſay, that Miſs Fermor thanks you for your obliging invitation, and promiſes ſhe will accompany me to Montreal as ſoon as the river St. Lawrence will bear carriages, as the upper road is extremely inconvenient.

I am, My deareſt Madam, Your obliged and faithful

Emily Montague.

Let- K10v 212

Letter XLVIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

After a fortnight’s ſnow, we have had near as much clear blue ſky and ſunſhine: the ſnow is ſix feet deep, ſo that we may be ſaid to walk on our own heads; that is, ſpeaking en philoſophe, we occupy the ſpace we ſhould have done in ſummer if we had done ſo; or, to explain it more clearly, our heels are now where our heads ſhould be.

The ſcene is a little changed for the worſe: the lovely landſcape is now one undiſtinguiſhed waſte of ſnow, only a little diverſified by the great variety of evergreens in the woods: the romantic winding path down the ſide of the hill to our farm, on which we uſed to amuſe ourſelves with ſeeing K11r 213 ſeeing the beaux ſerpentize, is now a confuſed, frightful, rugged precipice, which one trembles at the idea of aſcending.

There is ſomething exceedingly agreable in the whirl of the carrioles, which fly along at the rate of twenty miles an hour; and really hurry one out of one’s ſenſes.

Our little coterie is the object of great envy; we live juſt as we like, without thinking of other people, which I am not ſure here is prudent, but it is pleaſant, which is a better thing.

Emily, who is the civileſt creature breathing, is for giving up her own pleaſure to avoid offending others, and wants me, every time we make a carrioling-party, to invite all the miſſes of Quebec to go with us, becauſe they ſeem angry at our being happy without them: but for that very K11v 214 very reaſon I perſiſt in my own way, and conſider wiſely, that, though civility is due to other people, yet there is alſo ſome civility due to one’s ſelf.

I agree to viſit every body, but think it mighty abſurd I muſt not take a ride without aſking a hundred people I ſcarce know to go with me: yet this is the ſtyle here; they will neither be happy themſelves, nor let any body elſe. Adieu!

I will never take a beaver’s word again as long as I live: there is no ſupporting this cold; the Canadians ſay it is ſeventeen years ſince there has been ſo ſevere a ſeaſon. I thought beavers had been people of more honor.

Adieu! I can no more: the ink freezes as I take it from the ſtandiſh to the paper, though cloſe to a large ſtove. Don’t expect3 pect K12r 215 pect me to write again till May; one’s faculties are abſolutely congealed this weather.


A. Fermor.

Letter XLIX.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

It is with difficulty I breathe, my dear; the cold is ſo amazingly intenſe as almoſt totally to ſtop reſpiration. I have buſineſs, the buſineſs of pleaſure, at Quebec; but have not the courage to ſtir from the ſtove.

We have had five days, the ſeverity of which none of the natives remember to have K12v 216 have ever ſeen equaled: ’tis ſaid, the cold is beyond all the thermometers here, tho’ intended for the climate.

The ſtrongeſt wine freezes in a room which has a ſtove in it; even brandy is thickened to the conſiſtence of oil: the largeſt wood fire, in a wide chimney, does not throw out it’s heat a quarter of a yard.

I muſt venture to Quebec to-morrow, or have company at home: amuſements are here neceſſary to life; we muſt be jovial, or the blood will freeze in our veins.

I no longer wonder the elegant arts are unknown here; the rigour of the climate ſuſpends the very powers of the underſtanding; what then muſt become of thoſe of the imagination? Thoſe who expect to ſee A new Athens rising near the pole, will L1r 217 will find themſelves extremely diſappointed. Genius will never mount high, where the faculties of the mind are benumbed half the year.

’Tis ſufficient employment for the moſt lively ſpirit here to contrive how to preſerve an exiſtence, of which there are moments that one is hardly conſcious: the cold really ſometimes brings on a ſort of ſtupefaction.

We had a million of beaux here yeſterday, notwithſtanding the ſevere cold: ’tis the Canadian cuſtom, calculated I ſuppoſe for the climate, to viſit all the ladies on New-year’s-day, who ſit dreſſed in form to be kiſſed: I aſſure you, however, our kiſſes could not warm them; but we were obliged, to our eternal diſgrace, to call in raſberry brandy as an auxiliary.

Vol. I. L You L1v 218

You would have died to ſee the men; they look juſt like ſo many bears in their open carrioles, all wrapped in furs from head to foot; you ſee nothing of the human form appear, but the tip of a noſe.

They have intire coats of beaver ſkin, exactly like Friday’s in Robinſon Cruſoe; and caſques on their heads like the old knights errant in romance; you never ſaw ſuch tremendous figures; but without this kind of cloathing it would be impoſſible to ſtir out at preſent.

The ladies are equally covered up, tho’ in a leſs unbecoming ſtyle; they have long cloth cloaks with looſe hoods, like thoſe worn by the market-women in the north of England. I have one in ſcarlet, the hood lined with ſable, the prettieſt ever ſeen here; in which I aſſure you I look amazingly handſome; the men think ſo, and L2r 219 and call me the Little red riding-hood; a name which becomes me as well as the hood.

The Canadian ladies wear theſe cloaks in India ſilk in ſummer, which, fluttering in the wind, look really graceful on a fine woman.

Beſides our riding-hoods, when we go out, we have a large buffaloe’s ſkin under our feet, which turns up, and wraps round us almoſt to our ſhoulders; ſo that, upon the whole, we are pretty well guarded from the weather as well as the men.

Our covered carrioles too have not only canvas windows (we dare not have glaſs, becauſe we often overturn), but cloth curtains to draw all round us; the extreme ſwiftneſs of theſe carriages alſo, which dart along like lightening, helps to keep one warm, by promoting the circulation of the blood.

L2 I pity L2v 220

I pity the Fitz; no tiger was ever ſo hard-hearted as I am this weather: the little god has taken his flight, like the ſwallows. I ſay nothing, but cruelty is no virtu in Canada; at leaſt at this ſeaſon.

I ſuppoſe Pygmalion’s ſtatue was ſome frozen Canadian gentlewoman, and a ſudden warm day thawed her. I love to expound ancient fables, and I think no expoſition can be more natural than this.

Would you know what makes me chatter this morning? Papa has made me take ſome excellent liqueur; ’tis the mode here; all the Canadian ladies take a little, which makes them ſo coquet and agreable. Certainly brandy makes a woman talk like an angel. Adieu!


A. Fermor.

Let- L3r 221

Letter L.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Idon’t quite agree with you, my dear; your brother does not appear to me to have the leaſt ſcruple of that fooliſh falſe modeſty which ſtands in a man’s way.

He is extremely what the French call awakened; he is modeſt, certainly; that is, he is not a coxcomb, but he has all that proper ſelf-confidence which is neceſſary to ſet his agreable qualities in full light: nothing can be a ſtronger proof of this, than that, wherever he is, he always takes your attention in a moment, and this without ſeeming to ſolicit it.

L3 I am L3v 222

I am very fond of him, though he never makes love to me, in which circumſtance he is very ſingular: our friendſhip is quite platonic, at leaſt on his ſide, for I am not quite ſo ſure on the other. I remember one day in ſummer we were walking téte à téte in the road to Cape Rouge, when he wanted me to ſtrike into a very beautiful thicket: Poſitively, Rivers ſaid I, I will not venture with you into that wood. Are you afraid of me, Bell? No, but extremely of myſelf.

I have loved him ever ſince a little ſcene that paſſed here three or four months ago: a very affecting ſtory, of a diſtreſſed family in our neighbourhood, was told him and Sir George; the latter preſerved all the philoſophic dignity and manly compoſure of his countenance, very coldly expreſſed his concern, and called another ſubject: your brother changed color, his eyes gliſtened;tened; L4r 223 tened; he took the firſt opportunity to leave the room, he ſought theſe poor people, he found, he relieved them; which we diſcovered by accident a month after.

The weather, tho’ cold beyond all that you in England can form an idea of, is yet mild to what it has been the laſt five or ſix days; we are going to Quebec, to church.

Emily and I have been talking religion all the way home: we are both mighty good girls, as girls go in theſe degenerate days; our grandmothers to be ſure—but it’s folly to look back.

We have been ſaying, Lucy, that ’tis the ſtrangeſt thing in the world people ſhould quarrel about religion, ſince we undoubtedly all mean the ſame thing; all good minds in every religion aim at pleaſing the Supreme Being; the means we take L4 differ L4v 224 differ according to the country where we are born, and the prejudices we imbibe from education; a conſideration which ought to inſpire us with kindneſs and indulgence to each other.

If we examine each other’s ſentiments with candor, we ſhall find much leſs difference in eſſentials than we imagine; Since all agree to own, at leaſt to mean, One great, one good, one general Lord of all. There is, I think, a very pretty Sunday reflexion for you, Lucy.

You muſt know, I am extremely religious; and for this amongſt other reaſons, that I think infidelity a vice peculiarly contrary to the native ſoftneſs of woman: it is bold, daring, maſculine; and I ſhould almoſt doubt the ſex of an unbeliever in petticoats.

Women L5r 225

Women are religious as they are virtuous, leſs from principles founded on reaſoning and argument, than from elegance of mind, delicacy of moral taſte, and a certain quick perception of the beautiful and becoming in every thing.

This inſtinct, however, for ſuch it is, is worth all the tedious reaſonings of the men; which is a point I flatter myſelf you will not diſpute with me.

This is the firſt day I have ventured in an open carriole; we have been running a race on the ſnow, your brother and I againſt Emily and Fitzgerald: we conquered from Fitzgerald’s complaiſance to Emily. I ſhall like it mightily, well wrapt up: I ſet off with a crape over my face to keep off the cold, but in three minutes it was a cake L5 of L5v 226 of ſolid ice, from my breath which froze upon it; yet this is called a mild day, and the ſun ſhines in all his glory.

We are juſt come from the general’s aſſembly; much company, and we danced till this minute; for I believe we have not been more coming theſe four miles.

Fitzgerald is the very pink of courteſy; he never uſes his covered carriole himſelf, but devotes it intirely to the ladies; it ſtands at the general’s door in waiting on Thurſdays: if any lady comes out before her carriole arrives, the ſervants call out mechanically, Captain Fitzgerald’s carriole here, for a lady. The Colonel is equally gallant, but I generally lay an embargo on his: they have each of them an extreme pretty one for themſelves, or to drive a fair lady a morning’s airing, when 1 ſhe L6r 227 ſhe will allow them the honor, and the weather is mild enough to permit it.

Bon ſoir! I am ſleepy. Yours,

A. Fermor.

Letter LI.

To John Temple,Eſq; Pall Mall.

You miſtake me extremely, Jack, as you generally do: I have by no means forſworn marriage: on the contrary, though happineſs is not ſo often found there as I wiſh it was, yet I am convinced it is to be found no where elſe; and, poor as I am, I ſhould not heſitate about trying the experiment myſelf to-morrow, if I L6 could L6v 228 could meet with a woman to my taſte, unappropriated, whoſe ideas of the ſtate agreed with mine, which I allow are ſomething out of the common road: but I muſt be certain thoſe ideas are her own, therefore they muſt ariſe ſpontaneouſly, and not in complaiſance to mine; for which reaſon, if I could, I would endeavour to lead my miſtreſs into the ſubject, and know her ſentiments on the manner of living in that ſtate before I diſcovered my own.

I muſt alſo be well convinced of her tenderneſs before I make a declaration of mine: ſhe muſt not diſtinguiſh me becauſe I flatter her, but becauſe ſhe thinks I have merit; thoſe fancied paſſions, where gratified vanity aſſumes the form of love, will not ſatisfy my heart: the eyes, the air, the voice of the woman I love, a thouſand little indiſcretions dear to the heart, muſt convince me I am beloved, before I confeſs I love.

5 Though L7r 229

Though ſenſible of the advantages of fortune, I can be happy without it: if I ſhould ever be rich enough to live in the world, no one will enjoy it with greater guſt; if not, I can with great ſpirit, provided I find ſuch a companion as I wiſh, retire from it to love, content, and a cottage: by which I mean to the life of a little country gentleman.

You aſk me my opinion of the winter here. If you can bear a degree of cold, of which Europeans can form no idea, it is far from being unpleaſant; we have ſettled froſt, and an eternal blue ſky. Travelling in this country in winter is particularly agreable: the carriages are eaſy, and go on the ice with an amazing velocity, though drawn only by one horſe.

The continual plain of ſnow would be extremely fatiguing both to the eye and imagination, were not both relieved, not only L7v 230 only by the woods in proſpect, but by the tall branches of pines with which the road is marked out on each ſide, and which form a verdant avenue agreably contraſted with the dazzling whiteneſs of the ſnow, on which, when the ſun ſhines, it is almoſt impoſſible to look ſteadily even for a moment.

Were it not for this method of marking out the roads, it would be impoſſible to find the way from one village to another.

The eternal ſameneſs however of this avenue is tireſome when you go far in one road.

I have paſſed the laſt two months in the moſt agreable manner poſſible, in a little ſociety of perſons I extremely love: I feel myſelf ſo attached to this little circle of friends, that I have no pleaſure in any other company, and think all the time abſolutely loſt that politeneſs forces me to ſpend, any where L8r 231 where elſe. I extremely dread our party’s being diſſolved, and wiſh the winter to laſt for ever, for I am afraid the ſpring will divide us.

Adieu! and believe me, Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

Letter LII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ibegin not to diſreliſh the winter here; now I am uſed to the cold, I don’t feel it ſo much: as there is no buſineſs done here in the winter, ’tis the ſeaſon of general diſſipation; amuſement is the ſtudy L8v 232 ſtudy of every body, and the pains people take to pleaſe themſelves contribute to the general pleaſure: upon the whole, I am not ſure it is not a pleaſanter winter than that of England.

Both our houſes and our carriages are uncommonly warm; the clear ſerene ſky, the dry pure air, the little parties of dancing and cards, the good tables we all keep, the driving about on the ice, the abundance of people we ſee there, for every body has a carriole, the variety of objects new to an European, keep the ſpirits in a continual agreable hurry, that is difficult to deſcribe, but very pleaſant to feel.

Sir George (would you believe it?) has written Emily a very warm letter; tender, ſentimental, and almoſt impatient; Mrs. Melmoth’s dictating, I will anſwer for it; not at all in his own compoſed agreable ſtyle. He talks of coming down in a few days L9r 233 days: I have a ſtrong notion he is coming, after his long tedious two years ſiege, to endeavor to take us by ſtorm at laſt; he certainly prepares for a coup de main. He is right, all women hate a regular attack.

Adieu for the preſent.

We ſup at your brother’s to-night, with all the beau monde of Quebec: we ſhall be ſuperbly entertained, I know. I am malicious enough to wiſh Sir George may arrive during the entertainment, becauſe I have an idea it will mortify him; though I ſcarce know why I think ſo. Adieu!


A. Fermor.

Let- L9v 234

Letter LIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

We paſſed a moſt agreable evening with your brother, though a large company, which is ſeldom the caſe: a moſt admirable ſupper, excellent wine, an elegant deſert of preſerved fruits, and every body in ſpirits and good humor.

The Colonel was the ſoul of our entertainment: amongſt his other virtues, he has the companionable and convivial ones to an immenſe degree, which I never had an opportunity of diſcovering ſo clearly before. He ſeemed charmed beyond words to ſee us all ſo happy: we ſtaid till four o’clock in the morning, yet all complained to-day we came away too ſoon.

I need L10r 235

I need not tell you we had fiddles, for there is no entertainment in Canada without them: never was ſuch a race of dancers.

The dear man is come, and with an equipage which puts the Empreſs of Ruſsia’s tranieau to ſhame. America never beheld any thing ſo brilliant: All other carrioles, at ſight of this, Hide their diminiſh’d heads. Your brother’s and Fitzgerald’s will never dare to appear now; they ſink into nothing.

Emily has been in tears in her chamber; ’tis a letter of Mrs. Melmoth’s which has had this agreable effect; ſome wife advice, I ſuppoſe. Lord! how I hate people that give advice! don’t you, Lucy?

I don’t L10v 236

I don’t like this lover’s coming; he is almoſt as bad as a huſband: I am afraid he will derange our little coterie; and we have been ſo happy, I can’t bear it.

Good night, my dear. Yours,

A. Fermor.

Letter LIV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

We have paſſed a mighty ſtupid day; Sir George is civil, attentive, and dull; Emily penſive, thoughtful, and ſilent; and my little ſelf as peeviſh as an old maid: nobody comes near us, not even your brother, becauſe we are ſuppoſed to be ſettlingtling L11r 237 tling preliminaries; for you muſt know Sir George has graciouſly condeſcended to change his mind, and will marry her, if ſhe pleaſes, without waiting for his mother’s letter, which reſolution he has communicated to twenty people at Quebec in his way hither; he is really extremely obliging. I ſuppoſe the Melmoths have ſpirited him up to this.

Emily is ſtrangely reſerved to me; ſhe avoids ſeeing me alone, and when it happens talks of the weather; papa is however in her confidence: he is as ſtrong an advocate for this milky baronet as Mrs. Melmoth.

All is over, Lucy; that is to ſay, all is fixed: they are to be married on Monday next at the Recollects church, and to ſet off immediately for Montreal: my father has L11v 238 has been telling me the whole plan of operations: we go up with them, ſtay a fortnight, then all come down, and ſhow away till ſummer, when the happy pair embark in the firſt ſhip for England.

Emily is really what one would call a prudent pretty ſort of woman, I did not think it had been in her: ſhe is certainly right, there is danger in delay; ſhe has a thouſand proverbs on her ſide; I thought what all her fine ſentiments would come to; ſhe ſhould at leaſt have waited for mamma’s conſent; this hurry is not quite conſiſtent with that extreme delicacy on which ſhe piques herſelf; it looks exceedingly as if ſhe was afraid of loſing him.

I don’t love her half ſo well as I did three days ago; I hate diſcreet young ladies that marry and ſettle; give me an agreable fellow and a knapſack.

My L12r 239

My poor Rivers! what will become of him when we are gone? he has neglected every body for us.

As ſhe loves the pleaſures of converſation, ſhe will be amazingly happy in her choice; With ſuch a companion to ſpend the long day! He is to be ſure a moſt entertaining creature.

Adieu! I have no patience. Yours,

A. Fermor.

After all, I am a little droll; I am angry with Emily for concluding an advantageous match with a man ſhe does not abſolutely diſlike, which all good mammas ſay is ſufficient; and this only because it breaks in on a little circle of friends, in whoſe ſociety I have been happy. O! ſelf! ſelf! I would have L12v 240 have her hazard loſing a fine fortune and a coach and ſix, that I may continue my coterie two or three months longer. Adieu! I will write again as ſoon as we are married. My next will, I ſuppoſe, be from Montreal. I die to ſee your brother and my little Fitzgerald; this man gives me the vapours. Heavens! Lucy, what a difference there is in men!

End of Vol. I.


Emily Montague.

By the Author of
Lady Julia Mandeville.

Vol. II.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall 1769MDCCLXIX.

A1v A2r

Emily Montague.

Vol. II.

A2v A3r

Emily Montague.

By the Author of
Lady Julia Mandeville.

Vol. II.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall.

B1r 1

The History of Emily Montague

Letter LV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

So, my dear, we went on too faſt, it ſeems: Sir George was ſo obliging as to ſettle all without waiting for Emily’s conſent; not having ſuppoſed her refuſal to be Vol. II. B in B1v 2 in the chapter of poſſibilities: after having communicated their plan of operations to me as an affair ſettled, papa was diſpatched, as Sir George’s ambaſſador, to inform Emily of his gracious intentions in her favor.

She received him with proper dignity, and like a girl of true ſpirit told him, that as the delay was originally from Sir George, ſhe ſhould inſiſt on obſerving the conditions very exactly, and was determined to wait till ſpring, whatever might be the contents of Mrs. Clayton’s expected letter; reſerving to herſelf alſo the privilege of refuſing him even then, if upon mature deliberation ſhe ſhould think proper ſo to do.

She has further inſiſted, that till that time he ſhall leave Silleri; take up his abode at Quebec, unleſs, which ſhe thinks moſt adviſeable, he ſhould return to Montreal for the winter; and never attempt ſeeing her without witneſſes, as their preſent ſituation5 tion B2r 3 tion is particularly delicate, and that whilſt it continues they can have nothing to ſay to each other which their common friends may not with propriety hear: all ſhe can be prevailed on to conſent to in his favor, is to allow him en attendant to viſit here like any other gentleman.

I wiſh ſhe would ſend him back to Montreal, for I ſee plainly he will ſpoil all our little parties.

Emily is a fine girl, Lucy, and I am friends with her again; ſo, my dear, I ſhall revive my coterie, and be happy two or three months longer. I have ſent to aſk my two ſweet fellows at Quebec to dine here: I really long to ſee them; I ſhall let them into the preſent ſtate of affairs here, for they both deſpiſe Sir George as much as I do; the creature looks amazingly fooliſh, and I enjoy his humiliation not a little: ſuch an animal to ſet up for being beloved indeed! O to be ſure!

B2 Emily B2v 4

Emily has ſent for me to her apartment. Adieu for a moment.


She has ſhewn me Mrs. Melmoth’s letter on the ſubject of concluding the marriage immediately: it is in the true ſpirit of family impertinence. She writes with the kind diſcreet inſolence of a relation; and Emily has anſwered her with the geniune ſpirit of an independent Engliſhwoman, who is ſo happy as to be her own miſtreſs, and who is therefore determined to think for herſelf.

She has refuſed going to Montreal at all this winter; and has hinted, though not impolitely, that ſhe wants no guardian of her conduct but herſelf; adding a compliment to my ladyſhip’s diſcretion ſo very civil, it is impoſſible for me to repeat it with decency.

O Heavens! B3r 5

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 LVI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

, 1767-01-24Jan. 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 and dullneſs ſeem to have taken the place of that ſweet vivacity and confidence which made our little ſociety ſo B3 pleaſing: B3v 6 pleaſing: this odious man has infected us all; he ſeems rather a ſpy on our pleaſures than a partaker of them; he is more an antidote to joy than a tall maiden aunt.

I wiſh he would go; I ſay ſpontaneousſly every time I ſee him, without conſidering I am impolite, La! Sir George, when do you go to Montreal? He reddens, and gives me a peeviſh anſwer; and I then, and not before, recollect how very impertinent the queſtion is.

But pray, my dear, becauſe he has no taſte for ſocial, companionable life, has he therefore a right to damp the ſpirit of it in thoſe that have? 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 with all this, has the mortificationcation B4r 7 cation to ſee your brother pleaſe more in a plain coat. I am lazy. Adieu!

Yours, ever and ever,

A. Fermor.

Letter LVII.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

So you intend, my dear Jack, to marry when you are quite tired of a life 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 feelings of which will be entirely obliterated; a heart hardened by long commerce with the moſt unworthy of the ſex; and which will bring diſguſt, ſuſpicion, coldſ neſs, and depravity of taſte, to the boſom of ſenſibility and innocence.

B4 For B4v 8

For my own part, though fond of women to the greateſt degree, I have had, conſidering my profeſſion and complexion, very few intrigues. I have always had an idea I ſhould ſome time or other marry, and have been unwilling to bring to a ſtate in which I hoped for happineſs from mutual affection, a heart worn out by a courſe of gallantries: to a contrary conduct is owing moſt of our unhappy marriages; the woman brings with her all her ſtock of tenderneſs, truth, and affection; the man’s is exhauſted before they meet: ſhe finds the generous delicate tenderneſs of her ſoul, not only unreturned, but unobſerved; ſhe fancies ſome other woman the object of his affection, ſhe is unhappy, ſhe pines in ſecret; he obſerves her diſcontent, accuſes her of caprice; and her portion is wretchedneſs for life.

If I did not ardently wiſh your happineſs, I ſhould not thus repeatedly combat a prejudice, which, as you have ſenſibility, will infalliblyfallibly B5r 9 fallibly make the greater part of your life a ſcene of inſipidity and regret.

You are right, Jack, as to the ſavages; the only way to civilize them is to feminize their women; but the taſk is rather difficult: at preſent their manners differ in nothing from thoſe of the men; they even add to the ferocity of the latter.

You deſire to know the ſtate of my heart: excuſe me, Jack; you know nothing of love; and we who do, never diſcloſe it’s myſteries to the prophane: beſides, I always chuſe a female for the confidante of my ſentiments; 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 not another minute to ſpare.


Ed. Rivers.

B5 Let- B5v 10

Letter LVIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ievery hour, my dear, grow more in love with French manners; there is ſomething charming in being young and ſprightly all one’s life: it would appear abſurd in England to hear, what I have juſt heard, a fat virtuous lady of ſeventy toaſt Love and Opportunity to a young fellow; but ’tis nothing here: they dance too to the laſt gaſp; I have ſeen the daughter, mother, and grand-daughter, in the ſame French country dance.

They are perfectly right; and I honor them for their good ſenſe and ſpirit, in determining to make life agreable as long as they can.

A propos to age, I am reſolved to go home, Lucy; I have found three grey hairs this morning; B6r 11 morning; they tell me ’tis common; this vile climate is at war with beauty, makes one’s hair grey, and one’s hands red. I won’t ſtay, abſolutely.

Do you know there is a very pretty fellow here, Lucy, Captain Howard, who has taken a fancy to make people believe he and I are on good terms? He affects to ſit by me, to dance with me, to whiſper nothing to me, to bow with an air of myſtery, and to ſhew me all the little attentions of a lover in public, though he never yet ſaid a civil 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 precipice below, when I ſaid ſomething of the lover’s leap, and in play, as you will ſuppoſe, made a ſtep forwards: we had been talking of indifferent things, his air was till then indolence itſelf; but on this B6 little B6v 12 little motion of mine, though there was not the leaſt danger, he with the utmoſt ſeeming eagerneſs catched hold of me as if alarmed at the very idea, and with the moſt paſſionate air proteſted his life depended on mine, and that he would not live an hour after me. I looked at him with aſtoniſhment, not being able to comprehend the meaning of this ſudden flight, when turning my head, I ſaw a gentleman and lady cloſe behind us, whom he had obſerved though I had not. They were retiring: Pray approach, my dear Madam, ſaid I; we have no ſecrets, this declaration was intended for you to hear; we were talking of the weather before you came.

He affected to ſmile, though I ſaw he was mortified; but as his ſmile ſhewed the fineſt teeth imaginable I forgave him: he is really very handſome, and ’tis pity he has this fooliſh quality of preferring the ſhadow to the ſubſtance.

I ſhall, B7r 13

I ſhall, however, deſire him to flirt elſewhere, as this badinage, however innocent, may hurt my character, and give pain to my little Fitzgerald: I believe I begin to love this fellow, becauſe I begin to be delicate on the ſubject of flirtations, and feel my ſpirit of coquetry decline every day.

Mrs. Clayton has wrote, my dear; and has at laſt condeſcended to allow Emily the honor of being her daughter-in-law, in conſideration of her ſon’s happineſs, and of engagements entered into with her own conſent; though ſhe very prudently obſerves, that what was a proper match for Captain Clayton is by no means ſo for Sir George; and talks ſomething of an offer of a citizen’s daughter with fifty thouſand pounds, and the promiſe of an Iriſh title. She has, however, obſerved that indiſcreet engagements are better broke than kept.

Sir B7v 14

Sir George has ſhewn the letter, a very indelicate one in my opinion, to my father and me; and has talked a great deal of nonſenſe on 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 make a great merit of keeping his engagement, if he does keep it: he hinted a little fear of breaking her heart; and I am convinced, if he thought ſhe could ſurvive his infidelity, all his tenderneſs and conſtancy would cede to filial duty and a coronet.

After much deliberation, Sir George has determined to write to Emily, incloſe his mother’s letter, and call in the afternoon to enjoy the triumph of his generoſity in keeping his engagement, when it is in his power to do ſo much better: ’tis a pretty plan, and I encourage him in it; my father, who wiſhes the B8r 15 the match, ſhrugs his ſhoulders, and frowns at me; but the little man is fixed as fate in his reſolve, and is writing at this moment in my father’s apartment. I long to ſee his letter; I dare ſay it will be a curioſity: ’tis ſhort, however, for he is ſcoming out of the room already.

Adieu! my father calls for this letter; it is to go in one of his to New York, and the perſon who takes it waits for it at the door.

Ever yours,

A. Fermor

Let- B8v 16

Letter LIX.

To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

Dear Madam,

Isend you the incloſed from my mother: I thought it neceſſary you ſhould ſee it, though not even a mother’s wiſhes ſhall ever influence me to break thoſe engagements which I have had the happineſs of entering into with the moſt charming of women, and which a man of honor ought to hold ſacred.

I do not think happineſs intirely dependent on rank or fortune, and have only to wiſh my mother’s ſentiments on this ſubject more agreable to my own, as there is nothing I ſo much wiſh as to oblige her: at all events, however, depend on my fulfilling thoſe promiſes, which ought to be the more B9r 17 more binding, as they were made at a time when our ſituations were more equal.

I am happy in an opportunity of convincing you and the world, that intereſt and ambition have no power over my heart, when put in competition with what I owe to my engagements; being with the greateſt truth,

My deareſt Madam, Yours, &c.

G. Clayton.

You will do me the honor to name the day to make me happy

Let- B9v 18

Letter LX.

To Sir George Clayton, at Quebec.

Dear Sir,

Ihave read Mrs Clayton’s letter with attention; and am of her opinion, that indiſcreet engagements are better broke than kept.

I have the leſs reaſon to take ill your breaking the kind of engagement between us at the deſire of your family, as I entered into it at firſt entirely in compliance with mine. I have ever had the ſincereſt eſteem and friendſhip for you, but never that romantic love which hurries us to forget all but itſelf: I have therefore no reaſon to expect in you the imprudent diſintereſtedneſs that paſſion occaſions.

A fuller B10r 19

A fuller explanation is neceſſary on this ſubject than it is poſſible to enter into in a letter: if you will favor us with your company this afternoon at Silleri, we may explain our ſentiments more clearly to each other: be aſſured, I never will prevent your complying in every inſtance with the wiſhes of ſo kind and prudent a mother.

I am, dear Sir, Your affectionate friend and obediant ſervant,

Emily Montague.

Letter LXI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

I have been with Emily, who has been reading Mrs Clayton’s letter; I ſaw joy ſparkle in her eyes as ſhe went on, her little heart ſeemed to flutter with tranſport; I ſee two things very clearly, one of B10v 20 of which is, that ſhe never loved this little inſipid Baronet; the other I leave your ſagacity to find out. All the ſpirit of her countenance is returned: ſhe walks in air; her cheeks have bluſh of pleaſure; I never ſaw ſo aſtoniſhing a change. I never felt more joy from the acquiſition of a new lover, than ſhe ſeems to find in the proſpect of loſing an old one.

She has written to Sir George, and in a ſtyle that I know will hurt him; for though I believe he wiſhes her to give him up, yet his vanity would deſire it ſhould coſt her very dear; and appear the effort of diſ intereſted love, and romantic generoſity, not what it really is, the effect of the moſt tranquil and perfect indifference.

By the way, a diſintereſted miſtreſs is, according to my ideas, a miſtreſs who fancies ſhe loves: we may talk what we pleaſe, at a diſtance, of ſacrificing the dear man to his intereſt, B11r 21 intereſt, and promoting his happineſs by deſtroying our own; but when it comes to the point, I am rather inclined to believe all women are of my way of thinking; and let me die if I would give up a man I loved to the firſt dutcheſs in Chriſtendom: ’tis all mighty well in theory; but for the practical part, let who will believe it for Bell.

Indeed when a woman finds her lover inclined to change, ’tis good to make 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 tell Emily.

Ever yours,

A. Fermor.

Let- B11v 22

Letter LXII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Yes, my Lucy, your brother tenderly regrets the abſence of a ſiſter endeared to him much more by her amiable qualities than by blood; who would be the object of his eſteem and admiration, if ſhe was not that of his fraternal tenderneſs; who has all the blooming graces, ſimplicity, and innocence of nineteen, with the accompliſhments and underſtanding of five and twenty; who joins the ſtrength of mind ſo often confined to our ſex, to the ſoftneſs, delicacy, and vivacity of her 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 the exception, Lucy; perhaps no man but a brother would make it.

My B12r 23

My ſweet Emily appears every day more amiable; ſhe is now in the full tyranny of her charms, at the age when the mind is improved, and the perſon in its perfection. I every day ſee in her more indifference to her lover, a circumſtance which gives me a pleaſure which perhaps it ought not: there is a ſelfiſhneſs in it, for which I am afraid I ought to bluſh.

You judge perfectly well, my dear, in checking the natural vivacity of 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 the ſalamander kind.

I have this moment a note from Bell Fermor, that ſhe muſt ſee me this inſtant. I hope B12v 24 I hope my Emily is well: Heaven preſerve the moſt perfect of all its works.

Adieu! my dear girl. Your affectionate.

Ed. Rivers

Letter LXIII

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

We have paſſed three or four droll days, my dear. Emily perſiſts in reſolving to break with Sir George; he thinks it decent to combat her reſolution, leſt he ſhould loſe the praiſe of generoſity: he is alſo piqued to ſee her give him up with ſuch perfect compoſure, though I am convinced he will not be ſorry upon the whole to be given up; he has, from the firſt C1r 25 firſt receipt of the letter, plainly wiſhed her to reſign him, but hoped for a few faintings and tears, as a ſacrifice to his vanity 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 real feelings of her heart: he is frighted to death leſt I ſhould counterwork him, and ſo jealous of my adviſing her to continue a conduct he ſo much diſapproves, that he won’t leave us a moment together; he even obſerves carefully that each goes into her reſpective apartment when we retire to bed.

This jealouſy has ſtarted an idea which I think will amuſe us, and which I ſhall take the firſt opportunity of communicating to Emily; ’tis to write each other at night our ſentiments on whatever paſſes in the day; if ſhe approves the plan, I will ſend Vol. II. C you C1v 26 you the letters, which will ſave me a great deal of trouble in telling you all our petites hiſtoires.

This ſcheme will have another advantage; we ſhall be a thouſand times 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 to ſay 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 a love affair: I long to begin the correſpondence.

Adieu! Yours,

A. Fermor

Let- C2r 27

Letter LXIV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

IHave but a moment, my Lucy, to tell you, my divine Emily has broke with her lover, who this morning took an eternal leave of her, and ſet out for Montreal in his way to New York, whence he propoſes to embark for England.

My ſenſations on this occaſion are not to be deſcribed: I admire that amiable delicacy which has influenced her to give up every advantage of rank and fortune which could tempt the heart of woman, rather than unite herſelf to a man for whom ſhe felt the leaſt degree of indifference; and this, without regarding the cenſures of her C2 family C2v 28 family, 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, is worthy of being beloved, of being adored, by every man who has a ſoul to diſtinguiſh her perfections.

If I was a vain man, I might perhaps fancy her regard for me had ſome ſhare in determining her conduct, but I am convinced of the contrary; ’tis the native delicacy of her ſoul alone, incapable of forming an union in which the heart has no ſhare, which, independent of any other conſideration, has been the cauſe of a reſolution ſo worthy of herſelf.

That ſhe has the tendereſt affection for me, I cannot doubt one moment; her attention is too flattering to be unobſerved; but ’tis that kind of affection in which the mind alone is concerned. I never gave her the moſt C3r 29 moſt diſtant hint that I loved her: in her ſituation, it would have been even an outrage to have done ſo. She knows the narrowneſs of my circumſtances, and how near impoſſible it is for me to marry; ſhe therefore could not have an idea—no, my dear girl, tis not to love, but to true delicacy, that ſhe has ſacrificed avarice and ambition; and ſhe 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.

C3 Let- C3v 30

Letter LXV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

IHave mentioned my plan to Emily, who is charmed with it; ’tis a pretty 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 in regard to Sir George; you have from the firſt approved it; you have even adviſed it. If I have been to blame, ’tis in having too long delayedlayed C4r 31 layed an explanation on a point of ſuch importance to us both. I have been long on the borders of a precipice, without courage to retire from ſo dangerous a ſituation: overborn by my family, I have been near marrying a man for whom I have not the leaſt tenderneſs, and whoſe converſation is even now tedious to me.

My dear friend, we were not formed for each other: our minds have not the leaſt reſemblance. Have you not obſerved that, when I have timidly hazarded my ideas on the delicacy neceſſary to keep love alive in marriage, and the difficulty of preſerving the heart of the object beloved in ſo intimate an union, he has indolently aſſented, with a coldneſs not to be deſcribed, to ſentiments which it is plain from his manner he did not underſtand; whilſt another, not intereſted in the converſation, has, by his countenance, by the fire of his eyes, by looks more C4 eloquent C4v 32 eloquent than all language, ſhewed his ſoul was of intelligence with mine!

A ſtrong ſenſe of the force of engagements entered into with my conſent, though not the effect of my free, unbiaſſed choice, and the fear of making Sir George, by whom I ſuppoſed myſelf beloved, unhappy, have thus long prevented my reſolving to break with him for ever; and though I could not bring myſelf to marry him, I found myſelf at the ſame 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 the inſupportable yoke of this engagement, which has long ſat heavy on my heart, and ſuſpended the natural chearfulneſs of my temper.

Yes, C5r 33

Yes, my dear, your Emily has been wretched, without daring to confeſs it even to you: I was aſhamed of owning I had entered into ſuch engagements with a man whom I had never loved, though I had for a ſhort time miſtaken eſteem for a greater degree of affection than my heart ever really knew. How fatal, my dear Bell, is this miſtake to half our ſex, and how happy am I to have diſcovered mine in time!

I have ſcarce yet aſked myſelf what I intend; but I think it will be moſt prudent to return to England in the firſt ſhip, and retire to a relation of my mother’s in the country, where I can live with decency on my little fortune.

Whatever is my fate, no ſituation can be equally unhappy with that of being wife to a man for whom I have not even the ſlighteſt friendſhip or eſteem, for whoſe C5 conver- C5v 34 converſation I have not the leaſt taſte, and who, if I know him, would for ever think me under an obligation to him for marrying me.

I have the pleaſure to ſee I give no pain to his heart, by a ſtep which has relieved mine from miſery: his feelings are thoſe of wounded vanity, not of love.

Adieu! Your

Emily Montague


I have no patience with relations, Lucy; this ſweet girl has been two years wretched under the bondage her uncle’s avarice (for he foreſaw Sir George’s acquiſition, though ſhe did not) prepared for her. Parents ſhould chuſe our company, but never even pretend to direct our choice; if they take care we converſe with men of honor only, tis impoſſible we can chuſe amiſs: a conformity of C6r 35 of taſte and ſentiment along can make marriage happy, and of that none but the parties concerned can judge.

By the way, I think long engagements, even between perſons who love, extremely unfavorable to happineſs: it is certainly right to be long enough acquainted to know ſomething of each other’s temper; but ’tis bad to let the firſt fire burn out before we come together; and when we have once reſolved, I have no notion of delaying a moment.

If I ſhould ever conſent to marry Fitzgerald, and he ſhould not fly for a licence before I had finiſhed the ſentence, I would diſmiſs him if there was not another lover to be had in Canada.

Adieu! Your faithful

A. Fermor.

C6 My C6v 36

My Emily is now free as air; a ſweet little bird eſcaped from the gilded cage. Are you not glad of it, Lucy? I am amazingly.

Letter LXVI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Would one think it poſſible, Lucy, that Sir George ſhould conſole himſelf for the loſs of all that is lovely in woman, by the ſordid proſpect of acquiring, by an intereſted marriage, a little more of that wealth of which he has already much more than he can either enjoy or become? By what wretched motives are half mankind influenced in the moſt important action of their lives!

The C7r 37

The vulgar of ever rank expect happineſs where it is not to be found, in the ideal advantages of ſplendor and diſſipation; thoſe who dare to think, thoſe minds who partake of the celeſtial fire, ſeek it in the real ſolid pleaſures of nature and ſoft affection.

I have ſeen my lovely Emily ſince I wrote to you; I ſhall not ſee her again of ſome days; I do not intend at preſent to make my viſits to Silleri ſo frequent as I have done lately, leſt the world, ever ſtudious to blame, ſhould miſconſtrue her conduct on this very delicate occaſion. I am even afraid to ſhew my uſual attention to her when preſent, leſt ſhe herſelf ſhould think I preſume on the politeneſs ſhe has ever ſhewn me, and ſee her breaking with Sir George in a falſe light: the greater I think her obliging partiality to me, the more guarded I ought to be in my behaviour to her; her ſituation has C7v 38 has ſome reſemblance to widowhood, and ſhe has equal decorums to obſerve.

I cannot however help encouraging a pleaſing hope that I am not abſolutely indifferent to her: her lovely eyes have a ſoftneſs when they meet mine, to which words cannot do juſtice: ſhe talks leſs to me than 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 nature not to be ſeen by common obſervers; without ſeeming to diſtinguiſh me from the crowd who ſtrive to engage her eſteem and friendſhip, ſhe has a manner of addreſſing me which the heart alone can feel; ſhe contrives to prevent my appearing to give her any preference to the reſt of her ſex, yet I have ſeen her bluſh at my civility to another.

She has at leaſt a friendſhip for me, which alone would make the happineſs of my life; I and C8r 39 and which I would prefer to the love of the moſt charming woman imagination could form, ſenſible as I am to the ſweeteſt of all paſſions: this friendſhip, however, time and aſſiduity may ripen into 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: you have often told me, and you were right, that my heart has all the ſenſibility of woman.

A mail is arrived, by which I hope to hear from you; I muſt hurry to the poſt office; you ſhall hear again in a few days.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Let- C8v 40

Letter LXVII.

To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

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: his perſon and manner are certainly extremely pleaſing; his underſtanding, and I believe his principles, are worthy of your friendſhip; an encomium which, let me obſerve, is from me a very high one: he will be admired every where, but to be beloved, he wants, or at leaſt appears to me to want, the moſt endearing of all qualities, that genuine tenderneſs of ſoul, that almoſt feminine ſenſibility, which, with all your firmneſs of mind and ſpirit, you poſſeſs beyond any man I ever yet met with.

If C9r 41

If your friend wiſhes to pleaſe me, which I almoſt fancy he does, he muſt endeavor to reſemble you; ’tis rather hard upon me, I think, that the only man I perfectly approve, and whoſe diſpoſition is formed to make me happy, ſhould be my brother: I beg you will find out ſomebody very like yourſelf for your ſiſter, for you have really made me ſaucy.

I pity you heartily, and wiſh above all things to hear of your Emily’s marriage, for your preſent ſituation muſt be extremely unpleaſant.

But, my dear brother, as you were ſo very wiſe about Temple, allow me to aſk you whether it is quite conſiſtent with prudence to throw yourſelf in the way of a woman ſo formed to inſpire you with tenderneſs, and whom it is ſo impoſſible you can ever hope to poſſeſs: is not this acting a little C9v 42 little like a fooliſh girl, who plays round the flame which ſhe knows will conſume her?

My mother is well, but will never be happy till you return to England; I often find her in tears over your letters: I will ſay no more on a ſubject which I know will give you pain. I hope, however, to hear you have given up all thoughts of ſettling in America: it would be a better plan to turn farmer in Northamptonſhire; we could doubt the eſtate by living upon it, and I am ſure I ſhould make the prettieſt milk-maid in the county.

I am ſerious, and think we could live very ſuperbly all together in the country; conſider it well, my dear Ned, for I cannot bear to ſee my mother ſo unhappy as your abſence makes her. I hear her on the ſtairs; I muſt hurry away my letter, for C10r 43 for I don’t chuſe ſhe ſhould know I write to you on this ſubject.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Lucy Rivers.

Say every thing for me to Bell Fermor; and in your own manner to your Emily, in whoſe friendſhip I promiſe myſelf great happineſs.


To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

, 1767-02-10Feb. 10.

Never any aſtoniſhment equalled mine, my dear Emily, at hearing you had broke an engagement of years, ſo much to your advantage as to fortune, and with C10v 44 with a man ſo very unexceptionable a character as Sir George, without any other apparent cauſe than a ſlight indelicacy in a letter of his mother’s, for which candor and affection would have found a thouſand excuſes. I will not allow myſelf to ſuppoſe, what is however publicly ſaid here, that you have ſacrificed prudence, decorum, and I had almoſt ſaid honor, to an imprudent inclination for a man, to whom there is the ſtrongeſt reaſon to believe you are indifferent, and who is 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 impoſſible for him to think of you, were you even as dear to him as the world ſays he is to you.

I am too unhappy to ſay more on this ſubject, but expect from our paſt friendſhip a very ſincere anſwer to two queſtions; whether love for Colonel Rivers was the real motive for the indiſcreet ſtep you have taken? C11r 45 taken? and whether, if it was, you have the excuſe of knowing he loves you? I ſhould be glad to know what are your views, if you have any. I am,

My dear Emily, Your affectionate friend,

E. Melmoth.

Letter LXIX.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal

My dear Madam,

Iam too ſenſible of the rights of friendſhip, to refuſe anſwering your queſtions; which I ſhall do in as few words as poſſible. I have not the leaſt reaſon to ſuppoſe myſelf beloved by Colonel Rivers; nor, if I know C11v 46 I know my heart, do I love him in that ſenſe of the word your queſtion ſuppoſes: I think him the beſt, moſt amiable of mankind; and my extreme affection for him, though I believe that affection only a very lively friendſhip, firſt awakened me to a ſenſe of the indelicacy and impropriety of marrying Sir George.

To enter into ſo ſacred an engagement as marriage with one man, with a ſtronger affection for another, of how calm and innocent nature ſoever that affection may be, is a degree of baſeneſs of which my heart is incapable.

When I firſt agreed to marry Sir George, I had no ſuperior eſteem for any other man; I thought highly of him, and wanted courage to reſiſt the preſſing ſolicitations of my uncle, to whom I had a thouſand obligations. I even almoſt perſuaded myſelf I loved him, nor did I find my C12r 47 my miſtake till I ſaw Colonel Rivers, in whoſe converſation I had ſo very lively a pleaſure as ſoon convinced me of my miſtake: I therefore reſolved to break with Sir George, and nothing but the fear of giving him pain prevented my doing it ſooner: his behaviour on the receipt of his mother’s letter removed that fear, and ſet me free in my own opinion, and I hope will in yours, from engagements which were equally in the way of my happineſs, and his ambition. If he is ſincere, he will tell you my refuſal of him made him happy, though he chuſes to affect a chagrin which he does not feel.

I have no view but that of returning to England in the ſpring, and fixing with a relation in the country.

If Colonel Rivers has an attachment, I hope it is to one worthy of him; for my own part, I never entertained the remoteſt thought C12v 48 thought of him in 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 LXX.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

There are two parties at Quebec in regard to Emily: the prudent mammas abuſe her for loſing a good match, and ſuppoſe it to proceed from her partiality to your brother, to the imprudence of which they give no quarter; whilſt the miſſes admire her generoſity and ſpirit, in ſacrificing all for love; ſo impoſſible it is to pleaſe every D1r 49 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, that ſhe loves him without being quite clear in the point herſelf: ſhe has not 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 when here, than before this matrimonial affair was put an end to; which is natural enough on that ſuppoſition, becauſe he knows the impertinence of Quebec, and is both prudent and delicate to a great degree.

He comes, however, and we are pretty good company, only a little more reſerved on both ſides; which is, in my opinion, a little ſymptomatic.

Vol. II. D La! D1v 50

La! here’s papa come up to write at my bureau; I dare ſay, it’s only to pry into what I am about; but excuſe me, my dear Sir, for that. Adieu! juſqu’au demain, ma tres chere.


A. Fermor.

Letter LXXI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Every hour, my Lucy, convinces me more clearly there is no happineſs for me without this lovely woman; her turn of mind is ſo correſpondent to my own, that we ſeem to have but one ſoul: the firſt moment I ſaw her the idea ſtruck me that we had been friends in ſome pre-exiſtent ſtate, and were only renewing our acquaintance here; when ſhe ſpeaks, my heart vibrates to the ſound, and owns every thought ſhe expreſſes a native there.

The D2r 51

The ſame dear affections, the ſame tender ſenſibility, the moſt precious gift of Heaven, inform our minds, and make us peculiarly capable of exquiſite happineſs or miſery.

The paſſions, my Lucy, are common to all; but the affections, the lively ſweet affections, the only ſources of true pleaſure, are the portion only of a choſen few.

Uncertain at preſent of the nature of her ſentiments, I am determined to develop them clearly before I diſcover mine: if ſhe loves as I do, even a perpetual exile here will be pleaſing. The remoteſt wood in Canada with her would be no longer a deſert wild; it would be the habitation of the Graces.

But I forget your letter, my dear girl; I am hurt beyond words at what you tell me of my mother; and would inſtantly return to England, did not my fondneſs for this charming woman detain me here: you D2 are D2v 52 are both too good in wiſhing to retire with me to the country; will your tenderneſs lead you a ſtep farther, my Lucy? It would be too much to hope to ſee you here; and yet, if I marry Emily, it will be impoſſible for me to think of returning to England.

There is a man here whom I ſhould prefer of all men I ever ſaw for you; but he is already attached to your friend Bell Fermor, who is very inattentive to her own happineſs, if ſhe refuſes him: I am very happy in finding you think of Temple as I wiſh you ſhould.

You are ſo very civil, Lucy, in regard to me, I am afraid of becoming vain from your praiſes.

Take care, my dear, you don’t ſpoil me by this exceſs of civility, for my only mereit is that of not being a coxcomb.

I have D3r 53

I have a heavineſs of heart, which has never left me ſince I read your letter: I am ſhocked at the idea of giving pain to the beſt parent that ever exiſted; yet have leſs hope than ever of ſeeing England, without giving up the tender friend, the dear companion, the adored miſtreſs; 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 a ſtation equal to that ſhe has rejected, and I begin to think rejected for me.

I never before repined at ſeeing the gifts of fortune laviſhed on the unworthy.

Adieu, my dear! I will write again when I can write more chearfully.

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

D3 Let- D3v 54

Letter LXXII.

To the Earl of ――

My Lord,

Your Lordſhip does me great honor in ſuppoſing me capable of giving any ſatisfactory account of a country in which I have ſpent only a few months.

As a proof, however, of my zeal, and the very ſtrong deſire I have to merit the eſteem you honor me with, I ſhall communicate from time to time the little I have obſerved, and may obſerve, as well as what I hear from good authority, with that lively pleaſure with which I have ever obeyed every command of your Lordſhip’s.

The French, in the firſt ſettling this colony, ſeem to have had an eye only to the conqueſt of ours: their whole ſyſtem of policy D4r 55 policy ſeems to have been military, not commercial; or only ſo far commercial as was neceſſary 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 bother ſerve without pay whenever called upon; this ſervice is, except a very ſmall quit-rent by way of acknowledgement, all they pay for their lands: the ſeigneur holds of the crown, the peaſant of the ſeigneur, who is at once his lord and commander.

The peaſants are in general tall and robuſt, notwithſtanding their exceſſive indolence; they love war, and hate labor; are brave, hardy, alert in the field, but lazy and inactive at home; in which they reſemble the ſavages, whoſe manners they ſeem D4 ſtrongly D4v 56 ſtrongly to have imbibed. The government appears to have encouraged a military ſpirit all over the colony; though ignorant and ſtupid to a great degree, theſe peaſants have a ſtrong ſenſe of honor; and though they ſerve, as I have ſaid, without pay, are never ſo happy as when called to the field.

They are exceſſively vain, and not only look on the French as the only civilized nation in the world, but on themſelves as the flower of the French nation: they had, I am told, a great averſion to the regular troops which came from France in the late war, and a contempt equal to that averſion; they however had an affection and eſteem for the late Marquis De Montcalm, which almoſt roſe to idolatry; and I have even at this diſtance of time ſeen many of them in tears at the mention of his name: an honeſt tribute to the memory of a commander equally brave and humane; for whom his enemies wept even on the day when their own hero fell.

I am D5r 57

I am called upon for this letter, and have only time to aſſure your Lordſhip of my reſpect, and of the pleaſure I always receive from your commands. I have the honor to be,

My Lord, Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

William Fermor


Letter LXXIII.

To Miſs Fermor.

Ihave indeed, my dear, a pleaſure in his converſation, to which words cannot do juſtice: love itſelf is leſs tender and lively than my friendſhip for Rivers; from the firſt moment I ſaw him, I loſt all taſte D5 for D5v 58 for other converſation; even yours, amiable as you are, borrows its moſt prevailing charm from the pleaſure of hearing you talk of him.

When I call my tenderneſs for him friendſhip, I do not mean either to paint myſelf as an enemy to tenderer ſentiments, or him as one whom it is eaſy to ſee without feeling them: all I mean is, that, as our ſituations make it impoſſible for us to think of each other except as friends, I have endeavored—I hope with ſucceſs— to ſee him in no other light: it is not in his power to marry without fortune, and mine is a trifle: had I worlds, they ſhould be his; but, I am neither ſo ſelfiſh as to deſire, nor ſo romantic as to expect, that he ſhould deſcend from the rank of life he has been bred in, and live loſt to the world with me.

As to the impertinence of two or three women, I hear of it with perfect indifference:ference: D6r 59 ference: my dear Rivers eſteems me, he approves my conduct, and all elſe is below my care: the applauſe of worlds would give me leſs pleaſure than one ſmile of approbation from him.

I am aſtoniſhed your father ſhould know me ſo little, as to ſuppoſe me capable of being influenced even by you: when I determined to refuſe Sir George, it was from the feelings of my own heart alone; the firſt moment I ſaw Colonel Rivers convinced me my heart had till then been a ſtranger to true tenderneſs: from that moment my life has been one continued ſtruggle between my reaſon, which ſhewed me the folly as well as indecency of marrying one man when I ſo infinitely preferred another, and a falſe point of honor and miſtaken compaſſion: from which painful ſtate, a concurrence of favorable accidents has at length happily relieved me, and left me free to act as becomes me.

D6 Of D6v 60

Of this, my dear, be aſſured, that, though I have not the leaſt idea of ever marrying Colonel Rivers, yet, whilſt my ſentiments for him continue what they are, I will never marry any other man.

I am hurt at what Mrs. Melmoth hinted in her letter to you, of Rivers having appeared to attach himſelf to me from vanity; ſhe endeavors in vain to deſtroy my eſteem for him: you well know, he never did appear to attach himſelf to me; he is incapable of having done it from ſuch a motive; but if he had, ſuch delight have I in whatever pleaſes him, that I ſhould with joy have ſacrificed my own vanity to gratify his.

Adieu! Your

Emily Montague.

Let- D7r 61

Letter LXXIV.

To Miſs Montague.

My dear, you deceive yourſelf; you love Colonel Rivers; you love him even with all the tenderneſs of romance: read over again the latter part of your letter; I know friendſhip, and of what it is capable; but I fear the ſacrifices it makes are of a different nature.

Examine your heart, my Emily, and tell me the reſult of that examination. It is of the utmoſt conſequence to you to be clear as to the nature of your affection for Rivers.

Adieu! Yours,

A. Fermor.
Let- D7v 62

Letter LXXV.

To Miſs Fermor.

Yes, my dear Bell, you know me better than I know myſelf; your Emily loves.—But tell me, and with that clear ſincerity which is the cement of our friendſhip; has not your own heart diſcovered to you the ſecret of mine? do you not alſo love this moſt amiable of mankind? Yes, you do, and I am loſt: it is not in woman to ſee him without love; there are a thouſand charms in his converſation, in his look, nay in the very ſound of his voice, to which it is impoſſible for a ſoul like yours to be inſenſible.

I have obſerved you a thouſand times liſtening to him with that air of ſoftneſs and complacency—Believe me, my dear, I am not angry with you for loving him; he D8r 63 he is formed to charm the heart of woman: I have not the leaſt right to complain of you; you knew nothing of my paſſion for him; you even regarded me almoſt as the wife of another. But tell me, though my heart dies within me at the queſtion, is your tenderneſs mutual? does he love you? I have obſerved a coldneſs in his manner lately, which now alarms me.—My heart is torn in pieces. Muſt I receive this wound from the two perſons on earth moſt dear to me? Indeed, my dear, this is more than your Emily can bear. Tell me only whether you love: I will not aſk more.—Is there on earth a man who can pleaſe where he appears?

Let- D8v 64

Letter LXXVI.

To Miſs Montague.

You have diſcovered me, my ſweet Emily: I love—not quite ſo dyingly as you do; but I love; will you forgive me when I add that I am beloved? It is unneceſſary to add the name of him I love, as you have ſo kindly appropriated the whole ſex to Colonel Rivers.

However, to ſhew you it is poſſible you may be miſtaken, ’tis the little Fitz I love, who, in my eye, is ten times more agreable than even your nonpareil of a Colonel; I know you will think me a ſhocking wretch for this depravity of taſte; but ſo it is.

Upon my word, I am half inclined to be angry with you for not being in love with Fitzgerald; a tall Iriſhman, with 2 good D9r 65 good eyes, has as clear a title to make conqueſts of other people.

Yes, my dear, there is a man on earth, and even in the little town of Quebec, who can pleaſe where he appears. Surely, child, if there was but one man on earth who could pleaſe, you would not be ſo unreaſonable as to engroſs him all to yourſelf.

For my part, though I like Fitzgerald extremely, I by no means inſiſt that every other woman ſhall.

Go, you are a fooliſh girl, and don’t know what you would be at. Rivers is a very handſome agreable fellow; but it is in woman to ſee him without dying for love, of which behold your little Bell an example. Adieu! be wiſer, and believe me

Ever yours

A. Fermor.

Will D9v 66

Will you go this morning to Montmorenci on the ice, and dine on the iſland of Orleans? dare you truſt yourſelf in a covered carriole with the dear man? Don’t anſwer this, becauſe I am certain you can ſay nothing on the ſubject, which will not be very fooliſh.

Letter LXXVII.

To Miſs Fermor.

Iam glad you do not ſee Colonel Rivers with my eyes; yet it ſeems to me very ſtrange; I am almoſt piqued at your giving another the preference. I will ſay no more, it being, as you obſerve, impoſſible to avoid being abſurd on ſuch a ſubject.

I will go to Montmorenci; and to ſhew my courage, will venture in covered carriole with Colonel Rivers, though I ſhould rather wiſh your father for my cavalier at preſent.


Emily Montague

Let- D10r 67


To Miſs Montague.

You are right, my dear: ’tis more prudent to go with my father. I love prudence; and will therefore ſend for Mademoiſelle Clairaut to be River’s belle.


A. Fermor.

Letter LXXIX.

To Miſs Fermor.

You are a provoking chit, and I will go with Rivers. Your father may attend Madame Villiers, who you know will naturally take it ill if ſhe is not of our party. We can aſk Mademoiſelle Clairaut another time.

Adieu! Your

Emily Montague.

Let- D10v 68

Letter LXXX.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.


Thoſe who have heard no more of a Canadian winter than what regards the intenſeneſs of its cold, muſt ſuppoſe it a very joyleſs ſeaſon: ’tis, I aſſure you, quite otherwiſe; there are indeed ſome days here of the ſeverity of which thoſe who were never out of England can form no conception; but thoſe days ſeldom exceed a dozen in a whole winter, nor do they come in ſucceſſion; but at intermediate periods, as the winds ſet in from the North-Weſt; which, coming ſome hundred leagues, from frozen lakes and rivers, over woods and mountains covered with ſnow, would be unſupportable, were it not for the furs with which the country abounds, in ſuch variety and plenty as to be within the reach of all its inhabitants.

Thus D11r 69

Thus defended, the Britiſh belles ſet the winter of Canada at defiance; and the ſeaſon of which you ſeem to entertain ſuch terrible ideas, is that of the utmoſt chearfulneſs and feſtivity.

But what particularly pleaſes me is, there is no place where women are of ſuch importance: not one of the ſex, who has the leaſt ſhare of attractions, is without a levee of beaux interceding for the honor of attending her on ſome party, of which every day produces three or four.

I am juſt returned from one of the moſt agreable jaunts imagination can paint, to the iſland of Orleans, by the falls of Montmorenci; the latter is almoſt nine miles diſ tant, acroſs the great baſon of Quebec; but as we are obliged to reach it in winter by the waving line, our direct road being intercepted by the inequalities of the ice, it is now perhaps a third D11v 70 a third more. You will poſſibly ſuppoſe a ride of this kind muſt want one of the greateſt eſſentials to entertainment, that of variety, and imagine it only one dull whirl over an unvaried plain of ſnow: on the contrary, my dear, we paſs hills and mountains of ice in the trifling ſpace of theſe few miles. The baſon of Quebec is formed by the conflux of the rivers St. Charles and Montmorenci with the great river St. Lawrence, the rapidity of whoſe flood tide , as theſe rivers are gradually ſeized by the froſt, breaks up the ice, and drives it back in heaps, till it forms ridges of tranſparent rock to an height that is aſtoniſhing, and of a ſtrength which bids defiance to the utmoſt rage of the moſt furiouſly ruſhing tide.

This circumſtance makes this little journey more pleaſing than you can poſſibly conceive: the ſerene blue ſky above, the dazling brightneſs of the ſun, and the colors from the refraction of its rays on the tranſparentrent D12r 71 rent part of theſe ridges of ice, the winding courſe theſe oblige you to make, the ſudden diſappearing of a train of fifteen or twenty carrioles, as theſe ridges intervene, which again diſcover themſelves on your riſing to the top of the frozen mount, the tremendous appearance both of the aſcent and deſcent, which however are not attended with the leaſt danger; all together give a grandeur and variety to the ſcene, which almoſt riſe to enchantment.

Your dull foggy climate affords nothing that can give you the leaſt idea of our froſt pieces in Canada; nor can you form any notion of our amuſements, of the agreableneſs of a covered carriole, with a ſprightly fellow, rendered more ſprightly by the keen air and romantic ſcene about him; to ſay nothing of the fair lady at his ſide.

Even an overturning has nothing alarming in it; you are laid gently down on a ſoft D12v 72 ſoft bed of ſnow, without the leaſt danger of any kind; and an accident of this ſort only gives a pretty fellow occaſion to vary the ſtyle of his civilities, and ſhew a greater degree of attention.

But it is almoſt time to come to Montmorenci: to avoid, however, fatiguing you or myſelf, I ſhall refer the reſt of our tour to another letter, which will probably accompany this: my meaning is, that two moderate letters aare vaſtly better than one long one; in which ſentiment I know you agree with


A. Fermor.

Let- E1r 73

Letter LXXXI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

So, my dear, as I was ſaying, this ſame ride to Montmorenci—where was I, Lucy? I forget.—O, I believe pretty near the mouth of the bay, emboſomed in which lies the lovely caſcade of which I am to give you a winter deſcription, and which I only ſlightly mentioned when I gave you an account of the rivers by which it is ſupplied .

The road, about a mile before you reach this bay, is a regular glaſſy level, without any of thoſe intervening hills of ice which I have mentioned; hills, which with the ideas, though falſe ones, of danger and difficulty, give thoſe of beauty and magnificence too.

Vol. II. E As E1v 74

As you gradually approach the bay, you are ſtruck with an awe, which increaſes every moment, as you come nearer, from the grandeur of a ſcene, which is one of the nobleſt works of nature: the beauty, the proportion, the ſolemnity, the wild magnificence of which, ſurpaſſing every poſſible effect of art, impreſs one ſtrongly with the idea of its Divine Almighty Architect.

The rock on the eaſt ſide, which is firſt in view as you approach, is a ſmooth and almoſt perpendicular precipice, of the ſame height as the fall; the top, which a little over-hangs, is beautifully covered with pines, firs, and ever-greens of various kinds, whoſe verdant luſtre is rendered at this ſeaſon more ſhining and lovely by the ſurrounding ſnow, as well as by that which is ſprinkled irregularly on their branches, and glitters half molted in the ſun-beams: a thouſand ſmaller ſhrubs are ſcattered on the ſide of the aſcent, and, having their roots E2r 75 roots in almoſt imperceptible clefts of the rock, ſeem to thoſe below to grow in air.

The weſt ſide is equally lofty, but more ſloping, which, from that circumſtance, affords ſoil all the way, upon ſhelving inequalities of the rock, at little diſtances, for the growth of trees and ſhrubs, by which it is almoſt entirely hid.

The moſt pleaſing view of this miracle of nature is certainly in ſummer, and in the early part of it, when every tree is in foliage and full verdure, every ſhrub in flower; and when the river, ſwelled with a waſte of waters from the mountains from which it derives its ſource, pours down in a tumultuous torrent, that equally charms and aſtoniſhes the beholder.

The winter ſcene has, notwithſtanding, its beauties, though of a different kind, more reſembling the ſtillneſs and inactivity of the ſeaſon.

E2 The E2v 76

The river being on its ſides bound up in froſt, and its channel rendered narrower than in the ſummer, affords a leſs body of water to ſupply the caſcade; and the fall, though very ſteep, yet not being exactly perpendicular, maſſes of ice are formed, on different ſhelving projections of the rock, in a great variety of forms and proportions.

The torrent, which before ruſhed with ſuch impetuoſity down the deep deſcent in one vaſt ſheet of water, now deſcends in ſome parts with a ſlow and majeſtic pace; in others ſeems almoſt ſuſpended in mid air; and in others, burſting through the obſtacles which interrupt its courſe, pours down with redoubled fury into the foaming baſon below, from whence a ſpray ariſes, which, freezing in its aſcent, becomes on each ſide a wide and irregular frozen breaſt-work; and in front, the ſpray being there much greater, a lofty and magnificent pyramid of ſolid ice.

I have E3r 77

I have not told you half the grandeur, half the beauty, half the lovely wildneſs of this ſcene: if you would know what it is, you muſt take no information but that of your own eyes, which I pronounce ſtrangers to the lovelieſt work of creation till they have ſeen the river and fall of Montmorenci.

In ſhort, my dear, I am Montmorenci- mad.

I can hardly deſcend to tell you, we paſſed the ice from thence to Orleans, and dined out of doors on ſix feet of ſnow, in the charming enlivening warmth of the ſun, though in the month of February, at a time when you in England ſcarce feel his beams.

Fitzgerald made violent love to me all the way, and I never felt myſelf liſten with ſuch complacency.

E3 Adieu! E3v 78

Adieu! I have wrote two immenſe letters. Write oftener; you are lazy, yet expect me to be an abſolute ſlave in the ſcribbling way.

Your faithful

A. Fermor.

Do you know your brother has admirable ideas? He contrived to loſe his way on our return, and kept Emily ten minutes behind the reſt of the company. I am apt to fancy there was ſomething like a declaration, for ſhe bluſhed, Celeſtial roſy red, when he led her into the dining room at Silleri. Once more, adieu!

Let- E4r 79

Letter LXXXII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Iwas miſtaken, my dear; not a word of love between your brother and Emily, as ſhe poſitively aſſures me; ſomething very tender has paſſed, I am convinced, notwithſtanding, for ſhe bluſhes more than ever when he approaches, and there is a certain ſoftneſs in his voice when he addreſſes her, which cannot eſcape a perſon of my penetration.

Do you know, my dear Lucy, that there is a little impertinent girl here, a Mademoiſelle Clairaut, who, on the meer merit of features and complexion, ſets up for being as handſome as Emily and me?

If beauty, as I will take the liberty to aſſert, is given us for the purpoſe of pleaſing,E4 ing, E4v 80 ing, ſhe who pleaſes moſt, that is to ſay, ſhe who excites the moſt paſſion, is to all intents and purpoſes the moſt beautiful woman; and, in this caſe, I am inclined to believe your little Bell ſtands pretty high on the roll of beauty; the men’s eyes may perhaps ſay ſhe is handſome, but their hearts feel that I am ſo.

There is, in general, nothing ſo inſipid, ſo unintereſting, as a beauty; which thoſe men experience to their coſt, who chuſe from vanity, not inclination. I remember Sir Charles Herbert, a Captain in the ſame regiment with my father, who determined to marry Miſs Raymond before he ſaw her, merely becauſe he had been told ſhe was a celebrated beauty, though ſhe was never known to have inſpired a real paſſion: he ſaw her, not with his own eyes, but thoſe of the public, took her charms on truſt; and, till he was her huſband, never found out ſhe was not his taſte; a ſecret, however, of ſome little importance to his happineſs.

I have, E5r 81

I have, however, known ſome beauties who had a right to pleaſe; that is, who had a mixture of that inviſible charm, that nameleſs grace which by no means depends on beauty, and which ſtrikes the heart in a moment; but my firſt averſion is your fine women: don’t you think a fine woman a deteſtable creature, Lucy? I do: they are vaſtly well to fill public places; but as to the heart—Heavens, my dear! yet there are men, I ſuppoſe, to be found, who have a taſte for the great ſublime in beauty.

Men are vaſtly fooliſh, my dear; very few of them have ſpirit to think for themſelves; there are a thouſand Sir Charles Herberts: I have ſeen ſome of them weak enough to decline marrying the woman on earth moſt pleaſing to themſelves, becauſe not thought handſome by the generality of their companions.

E5 Women E5v 82

Women are above this folly, and therefore chuſe much oftener from affection than men. We are a thouſand times wiſer, Lucy, than theſe important beings, theſe mighty lords, Who ſtrut and fret their hour upon the ſtage; and, inſtead of playing the part in life which nature dictates to their reaſon and their hearts, act a borrowed one at the will of others.

I had rather even judge ill, than not judge for myſelf.

Adieu! yours ever,

A. Fermor.

Let- E6r 83


To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

After debating with myſelf ſome days, I am determined to purſue Emily; but, before I make a declaration, will go to ſee ſome ungranted lands at the back of Madame Des Roche’s eſtate; which, lying on a very fine river, and ſo near the St. Lawrence, may I think be cultivated at leſs expence than thoſe above Lake Champlain, though in a much inferior climate: if I make my ſettlement here, I will purchaſe the eſtate Madame Des Roches has to ſell, which will open me a road to the river St. Lawrence, and conſequently treble the value of my lands.

E6 I love, E6v 84

I love, I adore this charming woman; but I will not ſuffer my tenderneſ for her to make her unhappy, or to lower her ſtation in life: if I can, by my preſent plan, ſecure her what will in this country be a degree of affluence, I will endeavor to change her friendſhip for me into a tenderer and more lively affection; if ſhe loves, I know by my own heart, that Canada will be no longer a place of exile; if I have flattered myſelf, and ſhe has only a friendſhip for me, I will return immediately to England, and retire with you and my mother to our little eſtate in the country.

You will perhaps ſay, why not make Emily of our party? I am almoſt aſhamed to ſpeak plain; but ſo weak are we, and ſo guided by the prejudices we fancy we deſpiſe, that I cannot bear my Emily, after refuſing a coach and ſix, ſhould live without an equipage ſuitable at leaſt to her birth, and E7r 85 and the manner in which ſhe has always lived when in England.

I know this is folly, that it is a deſpicable pride; but it is a folly, a pride, I cannot conquer.

There are moments when I am above all this childiſh prejudice, but it returns upon me in ſpite of myſelf.

Will you come to us, my Lucy? Tell my mother, I will build her a ruſtic palace, and ſettle a little principality on you both.

I make this a private excurſion, becauſe I don’t chuſe any body ſhould even gueſ at my views. I ſhall ſet out in the evening, and make a circuit to croſs the river above the town.

I ſhall not even take leave at Silleri, as I propoſe being back in four days, and I know E7v 86 I know your friend Bell will be inquiſitive about my journey.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.


To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Your brother is gone nobody knows whither, and without calling upon us before he ſet off; we are piqued, I aſſure you, my dear, and with ſome little reaſon.

Very E8r 87

Very ſtrange news, Lucy; they ſay Colonel Rivers is gone to marry Madame Des Roches; a lady at whoſe houſe he was ſome time in autumn; if this is true, I forſwear the whole ſex: his manner of ſtealing off is certainly very odd, and ſhe is rich and agreable; but, if he does not love Emily, he has been exceſſively cruel in ſhewing an attention which has deceived her into a paſſion for him. I cannot believe it poſſible: not that he has ever told her he loved her; but a man of honor will not tell an untruth even with his eyes, and his have ſpoke a very unequivocal language.

I never ſaw any thing like her confuſion, when ſhe was told he was gone to viſit Madame Des Roches; but, when it was hinted with what deſign, I was obliged to take her out of the room, or ſhe would have E8v 88 have diſcovered all the fondneſs of her ſoul. I really thought ſhe would have fainted as I led her out.

I have ſent away all the men, and drank tea in Emily’s apartment; ſhe has ſcarce ſpoke to me; I am miſerable for her; ſhe has a paleneſs which alarms me, the tears ſteal every moment into her lovely eyes. Can Rivers act ſo unworthy a part? her tenderneſs cannot have been unobſerved by him; it was too viſiſble to every body.

Not a line from your brother yet; only a confirmation of his being with Madame Des Roches, having been ſeen there by ſome Canadians who are come up this morning: I am not quite pleaſed, though I do E9r 89 I do not believe the report; he might have told us ſurely where he was going.

I pity Emily beyond words; ſhe ſays nothing, but there is a dumb eloquence in her countenance which is not to be deſcribed.

I have been an hour alone with the dear little girl, who has, from a hint I dropt on purpoſe, taken courage to ſpeak to me on this very intereſting ſubject; ſhe ſays, ſhe ſhall be moſt unhappy if this report is true, though without the leaſt right to complain of Colonel Rivers, who never even hinted a word of any affection for her more tender than friendſhip; that if her vanity, her ſelf-love, or her tenderneſs, have deceived her, ſhe ought only to blame herſelf. She added, that ſhe wiſhed him to marry Madame Des Roches, if E9v 90 if ſhe could make him happy; but when ſhe ſaid this, an involuntary tear ſeemed to contradict the generoſity of her ſentiments.

I beg your pardon, my dear, but my eſteem for your brother is greatly leſſened; I cannot help fearing there is ſomething in the report, and that this is what Mrs. Melmoth meant when ſhe mentioned his having an attachment.

I ſhall begin to hate the whole ſex, Lucy, if I find your brother unworthy, and ſhall give Fitzgerald his diſmiſſion immediately.

I am afraid Mrs. Melmoth knows men better than we fooliſh girls do; ſhe ſaid, he attached himſelf to Emily meerly from vanity, and I begin to believe ſhe was right: how cruel is this conduct! The man who from vanity, or perhaps only to amuſe an idle hour, can appear to be attached where he is not, and by that means ſeduce E10r 91 ſeduce the heart of a deſerving woman, or indeed of any woman, falls in my opinion very little ſhort in baſeneſs of him who practices a greater degree of ſeduction.

What right has he to make the moſt amiable of women wretched? a woman who would have deſerved him had he been monarch of the univerſal world! I might add, who has ſacrificed eaſe and affluence to her tenderneſs for him?

You will excuſe my warmth on ſuch an occaſion; however, as it may give you pain, I will ſay no more.

Adieu! Your faithful

A. Fermor.

Let- E10v 92

Letter LXXXV

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

I have met with ſomething, my dear Lucy, which has given me infinite uneaſineſs; Madame Des Roches, from my extreme zeal to ſerve her in an affair wherein ſhe has been hardly uſed, from my ſecond viſit, and a certain involuntary attention, and ſoftneſs of manner, I have to all women, has ſuppoſed me in love with her, and with a frankneſs I cannot but admire, and a delicacy not to be deſcribed, has let me know I am far from being indifferent to her.

I was at firſt extremely embaraſſed; but when I had reflected a moment, I conſidered that the ladies, though another may be the object, always regard with a kind of complacencycency E11r 93 cency a man who loves, as one who acknowledges the power of the ſex, whereas an indifferent is a kind of rebel to their empire; I conſidered alſo that the confeſſion of a prior inclination ſaves the moſt delicate vanity from being wounded; and therefore determined to make her the confidante of my tenderneſs for Emily; leaving her an opening to ſuppoſe that, if my heart had been diſengaged, it could not have eſcaped her attractions.

I did this with all poſſible precaution, and with every ſoftening friendſhip and politeneſs could ſuggeſt; ſhe was ſhocked at my confeſſion, but ſoon recovered herſelf enough to tell me ſhe was highly flattered by this proof of my confidence and eſteem; that ſhe believed me a man to have only the more reſpect for a woman who by owning her partiality had told me ſhe conſidered me not only as the moſt amiable, but the moſt noble of my ſex; that ſhe had heard, no E11v 94 no love was ſo tender aſ that which was the child of friendſhip; but that of this ſhe was convinced, that no friendſhip was ſo tender as that which was the child of love; that ſhe offered me this tender, this lively friendſhip, and would for the future find her happineſs in the conſideration of mine.

Do you know, my dear, that, ſince this confeſſion, I feel a kind of tenderneſs for her, to which I cannot give a name? It is not love; for I love, I idolize another: but it is ſofter and more pleaſing, as well as more animated, than friendſhip.

You cannot conceive what pleaſure I find in her converſation; ſhe has an admirable underſtanding, a feeling heart, and a mixture of ſoftneſs and ſpirit in her manner, which is peculiarly pleaſing to men. My Emily will love her; I muſt bring them acquainted: ſhe promiſes me to come to Quebec E12r 95 Quebec in May; I ſhall be happy to ſhew her every attention when there.

I have ſeen the lands, and am pleaſed with them: I believe this will be my reſidence, if Emily, as I cannot avoid hoping, will make me happy; I ſhall declare myſelf as ſoon as I return, but muſt continue here a few days longer: I ſhall not be leſs pleaſed with this ſituation for its being ſo near Madame Des Roches, in whom Emily will find a friend worthy of her eſteem, and an entertaining lively companion.

Adieu, my dear Lucy! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

I have fixed on the loveliest ſpot on earth, on which to build a houſe for my mother: do I not expect too much in fancying ſhe will follow me hither?

Let- E12v 96

Letter LXXXVI.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Still with Madame Des Roches; appearances are rather againſt him, you muſt own, Lucy: but I will not ſay all I think to you. Poor Emily! we diſpute continually, for ſhe will perſiſt in defending his conduct; ſhe ſays, he has a right to marry whoever he pleaſes; that her loving him is no tie upon his honor, eſpecially as he does not even know of this preference; that ſhe ought only to blame the weakneſs of her own heart, which has betrayed her into a falſe belief that their tenderneſs was mutual: this is pretty talking, but he has done every thing to convince her of his feeling the ſtrongeſt paſſion for her except making a formal declaration.

5 She F1r 97

She talks of returning to England the moment the river is open: indeed, if your brother marries, it is the only ſtep left her to take. I almoſt wiſh now ſhe had married Sir George: ſhe would have had all the douceurs of marriage; and as to love, I begin to think men incapable of feeling it: ſome of them can indeed talk well on the ſubject; but ſelf-intereſt and vanity are the real paſſions of their ſouls. I deteſt the whole ſex.


A. Fermor.

Vol. II. F Let- F1v 98


To the Earl of ――

My Lord,

Igenerally diſtruſt my own opinion when it differs from your Lordſhip’s; but in this inſtance I am moſt certainly in the right: allow me to ſay, nothing can be more ill-judged than your Lordſhip’s deſign of retiring into a ſmall circle, from that world of which you have ſo long been one of the moſt brilliant ornaments. What you ſay of the diſagreeableneſs of age, is by no means applicable to your Lordſhip; nothing is in this reſpect ſo fallible as the pariſh regiſter. Why ſhould any man retire from ſociety whilſt he is capable of contributing to the pleaſures of it? Wit, vivacity, good-nature, and politeneſs, give an eternal youth, as ſtupidity 4 and F2r 99 and moroſeneſs a premature old age. Without a thouſandth part of your Lordſhip’s ſhining qualities, I think myſelf much younger than half the boys about me, meerly becauſe I have more good-nature, and a ſtronger deſire of pleaſing.

My daughter is much honored by your Lordſhip’s enquiries: ſhe is Bell Fermor ſtill; but is addreſſed by a gentleman who is extremely agreable to me, and I believe not leſs ſo to her; I however know too well the free ſpirit of woman, of which ſhe has her full ſhare, to let Bell know I approve her choice; I am even in doubt whether it would not be good policy to ſeem to diſlike the match, in order to ſecure her conſent: there is ſomething very pleaſing to a young girl, in oppoſing the will of her father.

To ſpeak truth, I am a little out of humor with her at preſent, for having contributed, and I believe entirely from a ſpirit of oppoſitionF2 poſition F2v 100 poſition to me, to break a match on which I had extremely ſet my heart; the lady was the daughter of my particular friend, and one of the moſt lovely and deſerving women I ever knew: the gentleman very worthy, with an agreable, indeed a very handſome perſon, and a fortune which with thoſe who know the world, would have compenſated for the want of moſt other advantages.

The fair lady, after an engagement of two years, took a whim that there was no happineſs in marriage without being madly in love, and that her paſſion was not ſufficiently romantic; in which piece of folly my rebel encouraged her, and the affair broke off in a manner which has brought on her the imputation of having given way to an idle prepoſſeſſion in favor of another.

Your Lordſhip will excuſe my talking on a ſubject very near my heart, though unintereſting to you; I have too often experienced2 rienced F3r 101 rienced your Lordſhip’s indulgence to doubt it on this occaſion: your good-natured philoſophy will tell you, much fewer people talk or write to amuſe or inform their friends, than to give way to the feelings of their own hearts, or indulge the governing paſſion of the moment.

In my next, I will endeavor in the beſt manner I can, to obey your Lordſhip’s commands in regard to the political and religious ſtate of Canada: I will make a point of getting the beſt information poſſible; what I have yet ſeen, has been only the ſurface.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, Your Lordſhip’s &c.

William Fermor.

F3 Let- F3v 102


To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Your brother is come back; and has been here: he came after dinner yeſterday. My Emily is more than woman; I am proud of her behaviour: he entered with his uſual impatient air; ſhe received him with a dignity which aſtoniſhed me, and diſconcerted him: there was a cool diſpaſſionate indifference in her whole manner, which I ſaw cut his vanity to the quick, and for which he was by no means prepared.

On ſuch an occaſion I ſhould have flirted violently with ſome other man, and have ſhewed plainly I was piqued: ſhe judged much better; I have only to wiſh it may laſt. He is the verieſt coquet in nature, for, after all, I am convinced he loves Emily.

He F4r 103

He ſtayed a very little time, and has not been here this morning; he may pout if he pleaſes, but I flatter myſelf we ſhall hold out the longeſt.

He came to dine; we kept up our ſtate all dinner time; he begged a moment’s converſation, which we refuſed, but with a timid air that makes me begin to fear we ſhall beat a parley: he is this moment gone, and Emily retired to her apartment on pretence of indiſpoſition: I am afraid ſhe is a fooliſh girl.

It will not do, Lucy: I found her in tears at the window, following Rivers’s carriole with her eyes: ſhe turned to me with ſuch a look—in ſhort, my dear, F4 The F4v 104 The weak, the fond, the fool, the coward woman has prevailed over all her reſolution: her love is only the more violent for having been a moment reſtrained; ſhe is not equal to the taſk ſhe has undertaken; her reſentment was concealed tenderneſs, and has retaken its firſt form.

I am ſorry to find there is not one wiſe woman in the world but myſelf.

I have been with her again: ſhe ſeemed a little calmer; I commended her ſpirit; ſhe diſavowed it; was peeviſh with me, angry with herſelf; ſaid ſhe had acted in a manner unworthy her character; accuſed herſelf of caprice, artifice, and cruelty; ſaid ſhe ought to have ſeen him, if not alone, yet with me only: that it was natural he ſhould be ſurprized as a reception ſo inconſiſtentſiſtent F5r 105 ſiſtent with true friendſhip, and therefore that he ſhould wiſh an explanation; that her Rivers (and why not Madame Des Roches’s Rivers?) was incapable of acting otherwiſe than as became the beſt and moſt tender of mankind, and that therefore ſhe ought not to have ſuffered a whiſper injurious to his honor: that I had meant well, but had, by depriving her of Rivers’s friendſhip, which ſhe had loſt by her haughty behaviour, deſtroyed all the happineſs of her life.

To be ſure, your poor Bell is always to blame: but if ever I intermeddle between lovers again, Lucy

I am ſure ſhe was ten times more angry with him than I was, but this is to be too warm in the intereſt of our friends.

Adieu! till to-morrow. Yours,

A. Fermor.

F5 I can F5v 106

I can only ſay, that if Fitzgerald had viſited a handſome rich French widow, and ſtaid with her ten days tête à tête in the country, without my permiſſion— O Heavens! here is mon chere pere: I muſt hide my letter.

Bon ſoir


To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Icannot account, my dear, for what has happened to me. I left Madame Des Roches’s full of the warm impatience of love, and flew to my Emily at Silleri: I was received with a diſdainful coldneſs which I did not think had been in her nature, and which has ſhocked me beyond all expreſſion.

I went F6r 107

I went again to-day, and met with the ſame reception; I even ſaw my preſence was painful to her, therefore ſhortened my viſit, and, if I have reſolution to perſevere, will not go again till invited by Captain Fermor in form.

I could bear any thing but to loſe her affection; my whole heart was ſet upon her: I had every reaſon to believe myſelf dear to her. Can caprice find a place in that boſom which is the abode of every virtue?

I muſt have been miſrepreſented to her, or ſurely this could not have happened: I will wait to-morrow, and if I hear nothing will write to her, and aſk an explanation by letter; ſhe refuſed me a verbal one to-day, though I begged to ſpeak with her only for a moment.

F6 I have F6v 108

I have been aſked on a little riding party, and, as I cannot go to Silleri, have accepted it: it will amuſe my preſent anxiety.

I am to drive Madamoiſelle Clairaut, a very pretty French lady; this is however of no conſequence, for my eyes ſee nothing lovely but Emily.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Let- F7r 109

Letter XC.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Poor Emily is to meet with perpetual mortification: we have been carrioling with Fitzgerald and my father; and, coming back, met your brother driving Mademoiſelle Clairaut: Emily trembled, turned pale, and ſcarce returned Rivers’s bow; I never ſaw a poor little girl ſo in love; ſhe is amazingly altered within the laſt fortnight.

A letter from Mrs. Melmoth: I ſend you a copy of it with this.

Adieu! Yours,

A. Fermor.

Let- F7v 110

Letter XCI.

To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

If you are not abſolutely reſolved on deſtruction, my dear Emily, it is yet in your power to retrieve the falſe ſtep you have made.

Sir George, whoſe good-nature is in this inſtance almoſt without example, has been prevailed on by Mr. Melmoth to conſent I ſhould write to you before he leaves Montreal, and again offer you his hand, though rejected in a manner ſo very mortifying both to vanity and love.

He gives you a fortnight to conſider his offer, at the end of which if you refuſe him he ſets out for England over the lakes.

Be F8r 111

Be aſſured, the man for whom it is too plain you have acted this imprudent part, is ſo far from returning your affection, that he is at this moment addreſſing another; I mean Madame Des Roches, a near relation of whoſe aſſured me that there was an attachment between them: indeed it is impoſſible he could have thought of a woman whoſe fortune is as ſmall as his own. Men, Miſs Montague, are not the romantic beings you ſeem to ſuppoſe them; you will not find many Sir George Claytons.

I beg as early an anſwer as is conſiſtent with the attention ſo important a propoſal requires, as a compliment to a paſſion ſo generous and diſintereſted as that of Sir George. I am, my dear Emily,

Your affectionate friend,

E. Melmoth.

Let- F8v 112

Letter XCII.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

Iam ſorry, my dear Madam, you ſhould know ſo little of my heart, as to ſuppoſe it poſſible I could have broke my engagements with Sir George from any motive but the full conviction of my wanting that tender affection for him, and that lively taſte for his converſation, which alone could have enſured either his felicity or my own; happy is it for both that I diſcovered this before it was too late: it was a very unpleaſing circumſtance, even under an intention only of marrying him, to find my friendſhip ſtronger for another; what then would it have been under the moſt ſacred of all engagements, that of marriage? What wretch- F9r 113 wretchedneſs would have been the portion of both, had timidity, decorum, or falſe honor, carried me, with this partiality in my heart, to fulfill thoſe views, entered into from compliance to my family, and continued from a falſe idea of propriety, and weak fear of the cenſures of the world?

The ſame reaſon therefore ſtill ſubſiſting, nay being every moment ſtronger, from a fuller conviction of the merit of him my heart prefers, in ſpite of me, to Sir George, our union is more impoſſible than ever.

I am however obliged to you, and Major Melmoth, for your zeal to ſerve me, though you muſt permit me to call it a miſtaken one; and to Sir George, for a conceſſion which I own I ſhould not have made in his ſituation, and which I can only ſuppoſe the effect of Major Melmoth’s perſuaſions, which he might ſuppoſe were known to me, and an imagination that my ſentiments for F9v 114 for him were changed: aſſure him of my eſteem, though love is not in my power.

As Colonel Rivers never gave me the remoteſt reaſon to ſuppoſe him more than my friend, I have not the leaſt right to diſapprove his marrying: on the contrary, as his friend, I ought to wiſh a connexion which I am told is greatly to his advantage.

To prevent all future importunity, painful to me, and, all circumſtances conſidered, degrading to Sir George, whoſe honor is very dear to me, though I am obliged to refuſe him that hand which he ſurely cannot wiſh to receive without my heart, I am compelled to ſay, that, without an idea of ever being united to Colonel Rivers, I will never marry any other man.

Were I never again to behold him, were he even the huſband of another, my tenderneſs,neſs, F10r 115 neſs, a tenderneſs as innocent as it is lively, would never ceaſe: nor would I give up the refined delight of loving him, independently of any hope of being beloved, for any advantage in the power of fortune to beſtow.

Theſe being my ſentiments, ſentiments which no time can alter, they cannot be too ſoon known to Sir George: I would not one hour keep him in ſuſpence in a point, which this ſtep ſeems to ſay is of conſequence to his happineſs.

Tell him, I entreat him to forget me, and to come into views which will make his mother, and I have no doubt himſelf, happier than a marriage with a woman whoſe chief merit is that very ſincerity of heart which obliges her to refuſe him.

I am, Madam, Your affectionate, &c.

Emily Montague.

Let- F10v 116

Letter XCIII.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Your brother dines here to-day, by my father’s invitation; I am afraid it will be but an awkward party.

Emily is at this moment an exceeding fine model for a ſtatue of tender melancholy.

Her anger is gone; not a trace remaining; ’tis ſorrow, but the moſt beautiful ſorrow I ever beheld: ſhe is all grief for having offended the dear man.

I am out of patience with this look; it is ſo flattering to him, I could beat her for it: F11r 117 it: I cannot bear his vanity ſhould be ſo gratified.

I wanted her to treat him with a ſaucy, unconcerned, flippant air; but her whole appearance is gentle, tender, I had almoſt ſaid, ſupplicating: I am aſhamed of the folly of my own ſex: O, that I could to-day inſpire her with a little of my ſpirit! ſhe is a poor tame houſehold dove, and there is no making any thing of her.

For my ſhepherd is kind, and my heart is at eaſe.

What fools women are, Lucy! He took her hand, expreſſed concern for her health, ſoftened his tone of voice, looked a few civil things with thoſe expreſſive lying eyes of F11v 118 of his, and without one word of explanation all was forgot in a moment.

Good night! Yours,

A. Fermor.

Heavens! the fellow is here, has followed me to my dreſſing-room; was ever any thing ſo confident? Theſe modeſt men have ten times the aſſurance of your impudent fellows. I believe abſolutely he is going to make love to me: ’tis a critical hour, Lucy; and to rob one’s friend of a lover is really a temptation.

The dear man is gone, and has made all up: he inſiſted on my explaining the reaſons of the cold reception he had met with; which you know was impoſſible, without F12r 119 without betraying the ſecret of poor Emily’s little fooliſh heart.

I however contrived to let him know we were a little piqued at his going without ſeeing us, and that we were ſomething inclined to be jealous of his friendſhip for Madame Des Roches.

He made a pretty decent defence; and, though I don’t abſolutely acquit him of coquetry, yet upon the whole I think I forgive him.

He loves Emily, which is great merit with me: I am only ſorry they are two ſuch poor devils, it is next to impoſſible they ſhould ever come together.

I think I am not angry now; as to Emily, her eyes dance with pleaſure; ſhe has not the ſame countenance as in the morning; this F12v 120 this love is the fineſt coſmetick in the world.

After all, he is a charming fellow, and has eyes, Lucy—Heaven be praiſed, he never pointed their fire at me!

Adieu! I will try to ſleep. Yours,

A. Fermor.

Letter XCIV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

The coldneſs of which I complained, my dear Lucy, in regard to Emily, was the moſt flattering circumſtance which could have happened: I will not ſay it was the G1r 121 the effect of jealouſy, but it certainly was of a delicacy of affection which extremely reſembles it.

Never did ſhe appear ſo lovely as yeſterday; never did ſhe diſplay ſuch variety of lovelineſs: there was a ſomething in her look, when I firſt addreſſed her on entering the room, touching beyond all words, a certain inexpreſſible melting languor, a dying ſoftneſs, which it was not in man to ſee unmoved: what then muſt a lover have felt?

I had the pleaſure, after having been in the room a few moments, to ſee this charming languor change to a joy which animated her whole form, and of which I was ſo happy as to believe myſelf the cauſe: my eyes had told her all that paſſed in my heart; hers had ſhewed me plainly they underſtood their language. We were ſtanding at a window at ſome little diſtance from the Vol. II. G reſt G1v 122 reſt of the company, when I took an opportunity of hinting my concern at having, though without knowing it, offended her: ſhe bluſhed, ſhe looked down, ſhe again raiſed her lovely eyes, they met mine, ſhe ſighed; I took her hand, ſhe withdrew it, but not in anger; a ſmile, like that of the poet’s Hebe, told me I was forgiven.

There is no deſcribing what then paſſed in my ſoul: with what difficulty did I reſtrain my tranſports! never before did I really know love: what I had hitherto felt even for her, was cold to that enchanting, that impaſſioned moment.

She is a thouſand times dearer to me than life: my Lucy, I cannot live without her.

I contrived, before I left Silleri, to ſpeak to Bell Fermor on the ſubject of Emily’s reception of me; ſhe did not fully explain herſelf, but ſhe convinced me hatred had no part in her reſentment.

1 I am G2r 123

I am going again this afternoon: every hour not paſſed with her is loſt.

I will ſeek a favorable occaſion of telling her the whole happineſs of my life depends on her tenderneſs.

Before I write again, my fate will poſſibly be determined: with every reaſon to hope, the timidity inſeparable from love makes me dread a full explanation of my ſentiments: if her native ſoftneſs ſhould have deceived me—but I will not ſtudy to be unhappy.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

G2 Let- G2v 124

Letter XCV.

To Miſs Rivers, Clarges Street.

Ihave been telling Fitzgerald I am jealous of his prodigious attention to Emily, whoſe ceciſbeo he has been the laſt ten days: the ſimpleton took me ſeriouſly, and began to vindicate himſelf, by explaining the nature of his regard for her, pleading her late indiſpoſition as an excuſe for ſhewing her ſome extraordinary civilities.

I let him harangue ten minutes, then ſtops me him ſhort, puts on my poetical face, and repeats, When ſweet Emily complains,I have ſenſe of all her pains;But for little Bella, IDo not only grieve, but die.

He G3r 125

He ſmiled, kiſſed my hand, praiſed my amazing penetration, and was going to take this opportunity of ſaying a thouſand civil things, when my divine Rivers appeared on the ſide of the hill; I flew to meet him, and left my love to finiſh the converſation alone.

I am the happieſt of all poſſible women; Fitzgerald is in the ſullens about your brother; ſurely there is no pleaſure in nature equal to that of plaguing a fellow who really loves one, eſpecially if he has as much merit as Fitzgerald, for otherwiſe he would not be worth tormenting. He had better not pout with me: I believe I know who will be tired firſt.

I have paſſed a moſt delicious day: Fitzgerald took it into his wiſe head to endeavorG3 vor G3v 126 vor to make me jealous of a little pert French-woman, the wife of a Croix de St. Louis, who I know he deſpiſes; I then thought myſelf at full liberty to play off all my airs, which I did with ineffable ſucceſs, and have ſent him home in a humor to hang himſelf. Your brother ſtays the evening, ſo does a very handſome fellow I have been flirting with all the day: Fitz was engaged here too, but I told him it was impoſſible for him not to attend Madame La Broſſe to Quebec; he looked at me with a ſpite in his countenance which charmed me to the ſoul, and handed the fair lady to his carriole.

I’ll teach him to coquet, Lucy; let him take his Madame La Broſſe: indeed, as her huſband is at Montreal, I don’t ſee how he can avoid purſuing his conqueſt: I am delighted, becauſe I know ſhe is his averſion.

Emily G4r 127

Emily calls me to cards. Adieu! my dear little Lucy.


A. Fermor.

Letter XCVI.

To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

Ihave but a moment, my dear Ned, to tell you, that without ſo much as aſking your leave, and in ſpite of all your wiſe admonitions, your lovely ſiſter has this morning conſented to make me the happieſt of mankind: to-morrow gives me all that is excellent and charming in woman.

You are to look on my writing this letter as the ſtrongeſt proof I ever did, or G4 ever G4v 128 ever can give you of my friendſhip. I muſt love you with no common affection to remember at this moment that there is ſuch a man in being: perhaps you owe this recollection only to your being brother to the lovelieſt woman nature ever formed; whoſe charms in a month have done more towards my converſion than ſeven years of your preaching would have done. I am going back to Clarges Street. Adieu!

Yours, &c.

John Temple

Letter XCVII.

To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec

Iam afraid you knew very little of the ſex, my dear brother, when you cautioned me ſo ſtrongly againſt loving Mr. Temple: G5r 129 Temple: I ſhould perhaps, with all his merit, have never thought of him but for that caution.

There is ſomething very intereſting to female curioſity in the idea of theſe very formidable men, whom no woman can ſee without danger; we gaze on the terrible creature at a diſtance, ſee nothing in him ſo very alarming; he approaches, our little hearts palpitate with fear, he is gentle, attentive, reſpectful; we are ſurprized at this reſpect, we are ſure the world wrongs the dear civil creature; he flatters, we are pleaſed with his flattery; our little hearts ſtill palpitate—but not with fear.

In ſhort, my dear brother, if you wiſh to ſerve a friend with us, deſcribe him as the moſt dangerous of his ſex; the very idea that he is ſo, makes us think reſiſtance vain, and we throw down our defenſive arms in abſolute deſpair.

G5 I am G5v 130

I am not ſure this is the reaſon of my diſcovering Mr. Temple to be the moſt amiable of men; but of this I am certain, that I love him with the moſt lively affection, and that I am convinced, notwithſtanding all you have ſaid, that he deſerves all my tenderneſs.

Indeed, my dear prudent brother, you men fancy yourſelves extremely wiſe and penetrating, but you don’t know each other half ſo well as we know you: I ſhall make Temple in a few weeks as tame a domeſtic animal as you can poſſibly be, even with your Emily.

I hope you won’t be very angry with me for accepting an agreable fellow, and a coach and ſix: if you are, I can only ſay, that finding the dear man ſteal every day upon my heart, and recollecting how very dangerous a creature he was, I held G6r 131 I held it both ſafeſt and beſtTo marry, for fear you ſhould chide.

Adieu! Your affectionate, &c.

Lucy Rivers.

Pleaſe to obſerve, mamma was on Mr. Temple’s ſide, and that I only take him from obedience to her commands. He has behaved like an angel to her; but I leave himſelf to explain how: ſhe has promiſed to live with us. We are going a party to Richmond, and only wait for Mr. Temple. With all my pertneſs, I tremble at the idea that to-morrow will determine the happineſs or miſery of my life. Adieu! my deareſt brother.

G6 Let- G6v 132

Letter XCVIII.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall

Were I convinced of your converſion, my dear Jack, I ſhould be the happieſt man breathing in the thought of your marrying my ſiſter; but I tremble leſt this reſolution ſhould be the effect of paſſion merely, and not of that ſettled eſteem and tender confidence without which mutual repentance will be the neceſſary conſequence of your connexion.

Lucy is one of the moſt beautiful women I ever knew, but ſhe has merits of a much ſuperior kind; her underſtanding and her heart are equally lovely: ſhe has alſo a ſenſibility which exceedingly alarms me for her, as I know it is next to impoſſible that even G7r 133 even her charms can fix a heart ſo long accuſtomed to change.

Do I not gueſs too truly , my dear Temple, when I suppoſe the charming miſtreſs is the only object you have in view; and that the tender amiable friend, the pleaſing companion, the faithful confidante, is forgot?

I will not however anticipate evils: if any merit has power to fix you, Lucy’s cannot fail of doing it.

I expect with impatience a further account of an event in which my happineſs is ſo extremely intereſted.

If ſhe is yours, may you know her value, and you cannot fail of being happy: I only fear from your long habit of improper attachments; naturally, I know not a heart filled with nobler ſentiments than yours, nor G7v 134 nor is there on earth a man for whom I have equal eſteem. Adieu!

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Letter XCIX.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

Ihave received your ſecond letter, my dear Temple, with the account of your marriage.

Nothing could make me ſo happy as an event which unites a ſiſter I idolize to the friend on earth moſt dear to me, did I not tremble for your future happineſs, from my perfect knowledge of both.

I know G8r 135

I know the ſenſibility of Lucy’s temper, and that ſhe loves you: I know alſo the difficulty of weaning the heart from ſuch a habit of inconſtancy as you have unhappily acquired.

Virtues like Lucy’s will for ever command your eſteem and friendſhip; but in marriage it is equally neceſſary to keep love alive: her beauty, her gaiety, her delicacy, will do much; but it is alſo neceſſary, my deareſt Temple, that you keep a guard on your heart, accuſtomed to liberty, to give way to every light impreſſion.

I need not tell you, who have experienced the truth of what I ſay, that happineſs is not to be found in a life of intrigue; there is no real pleaſure in the poſſeſſion of beauty without the heart; with it, the fears, the anxieties, a man not abſolutely deſtitute of humanity muſt feel for the honor of her who G8v 136 who ventures more than life for him, muſt extremely counterbalance his tranſports.

Of all the ſituations this world affords, a marriage of choice gives the faireſt proſpect of happineſs; without love, life would be a taſteleſs void; an unconnected human being is the moſt wretched of all creatures: by love I would be underſtood to mean that tender lively friendſhip, that mixed ſenſation, which the libertine never felt; and with which I flatter myſelf my amiable ſiſter cannot fail of inſpiring a heart naturally virtuous, however at preſent warped by a fooliſh compliance with the world.

I hope, my dear Temple, to ſee you recover your taſte for thoſe pleaſures peculiarly fitted to our natures; to ſee you enjoy the pure delights of peaceful domeſtic life, the calm ſocial evening hour, the circle of friends, the prattling offſpring, and the tender impaſſioned ſmile of real love.

Your G9r 137

Your generoſity is no more than I expected from your character; and to convince you of my perfect eſteem, I ſo far accept it, as to draw out the money I have in the funds, which I intended for my ſiſter: it will make my ſettlement here turn to greater advantage, and I allow you the pleaſure of convincing Lucy of the perfect diſintereſtedneſs of your affection: it would be a trifle to you, and will make me happy.

But I am more delicate in regard to my mother, and will never conſent to reſume the eſtate I have ſettled on her: I eſteem you above all mankind, but will not let her be dependent even on you: I conſent ſhe viſit you as often as ſhe pleaſes, but inſiſt on her continuing her houſe in town, and living in every reſpect as ſhe has been accuſtomed.

As G9v 138

As to Lucy’s own little fortune, as it is not worth your receiving, ſuppoſe ſhe lays it out in jewels? I love to ſee beauty adorned; and two thouſand pounds, added to what you have given her, will ſet her on a footing in this reſpect with a nabobeſs.

Your marriage, my dear Temple, removes the ſtrongeſt objection to mine; the money I have in the funds, which whilſt Lucy was unmarried I never would have taken, enables me to fix to great advantage here. I have now only to try whether Emily’s friendſhip for me is ſufficiently ſtrong to give up all hopes of a return to England.

I ſhall make an immediate trial: you ſhall know the event in a few days. If ſhe refuſes me, I bid adieu to all my ſchemes, and embark in the firſt ſhip.

Give G10r 139

Give my kindeſt tendereſt wiſhes to my mother and ſiſter. My dear Temple, only know the value of the treaſure you poſſeſs, and you muſt be happy. Adieu!

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Letter C.

To the Earl of ――.

My Lord,

Nothing can be more juſt than your Lordſhip’s obſervation; and I am the more pleaſed with it, as it coincides with what I had the honor of ſaying to you in my laſt, in regard to the impropriety, the cruelty, I had almoſt ſaid the injuſtice, of G10v 140 of your intention of deſerting that world of which you are at once the ornament and the example.

Good people, as your Lordſhip obſerves, are generally too retired and abſtracted to let their example be of much ſervice to the world: whereas the bad, on the contrary, are conſpicuous to all; they ſtand forth, they appear on the fore ground of the picture, and force themſelves into obſervation.

’Tis to that circumſtance, I am perſuaded, we may attribute that dangerous and too common miſtake, that vice is natural to the human heart, and virtuous characters the creatures of fancy; a miſtake of the moſt fatal tendency, as it tends to harden our hearts, and deſtroy that mutual confidence ſo neceſſary to keep the bands of ſociety from looſening, and without which man is the moſt ferocious of all beaſts of prey.

Would G11r 141

Would all thoſe whoſe virtues like your Lordſhip’s are adorned by politeneſs and knowledge of the world, mix more in ſociety, we ſhould ſoon ſee vice hide her head: would all the good appear in full view, they would, I am convinced, be found infinitely the majority.

Virtue is too lovely to be hid in cells, the world is her ſcene of action: ſhe is ſoft, gentle, indulgent; let her appear then in her own form, and ſhe muſt charm: let politeneſs be for ever her attendant, that politeneſs which can give graces even to vice itſelf, which makes ſuperiority eaſy, removes the ſenſe of inferiority, and adds to every one’s enjoyment both of himſelf and others.

I am interrupted, and muſt poſtpone till to-morrow what I have further to ſay 4 to G11v 142 to your Lordſhip. I have the honor to be, my Lord,

Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

W. Fermor.

Letter CI.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Your brother, my dear Lucy, has made me happy in communicating to me the account he has received of your marriage. I know Temple; he is, beſides being very handſome, a fine, ſprightly, agreable fellow, and is particularly formed to keep a woman’s mind in that kind of play, that gentle agitation, which will for ever ſecure her affection.

He G12r 143

He has in my opinion juſt as much coquetry as is neceſſary to prevent marriage from degenerating into that ſleepy kind of exiſtence, which to minds of the awakened turn of yours and mine would be inſupportable.

He has alſo a fine fortune, which I hold to be a pretty enough ingredient in marriage.

In ſhort, he is juſt ſuch a man, upon the whole, as I ſhould have choſe for myſelf.

Make my congratulations to the dear man, and tell him, if he is not the happieſt man in the world, he will forfeit all his pretenſions to taſte; and if he does not make you the happieſt woman, he forfeits all title to my favor, as well as to the favor of the whole ſex.

I meant G12v 144

I meant to ſay ſomething civil; but, to tell you the truth, I am not en train; I am exceſſively out of humor: Fitzgerald has not been here of ſeveral days, but ſpends his whole time in gallanting Madame La Broſſe, a woman to whom he knows I have an averſion, and who has nothing but a tolerable complexion and a modeſt aſſurance to recommend her.

I certainly gave him ſome provocation, but this is too much: however, ’tis very well; I don’t think I ſhall break my heart, though my vanity is a little piqued. I may perhaps live to take my revenge.

I am hurt, becauſe I began really to like the creature; a ſecret however to which he is happily a ſtranger. I ſhall ſee him to-morrow at the governor’s, and ſuppoſe he will be in his penitentials: I have ſome doubt whether I ſhall let him dance with H1r 145 with me; yet it would look ſo particular to refuſe him, that I believe I ſhall do him the honor.

Adieu! Your affectionate

A. Fermor.

No, Lucy, if I forgive him this, I have loſt all the free ſpirit of woman; he had the inſolence to dance with Madame La Broſſe to-night at the governor’s. I never will forgive him. There are men perhaps quite his equal!—but ’tis no matter—I do him too much honor to be piqued—yet on the footing we were—I could not have believed—


Vol. II. H I was H1v 146

I was ſo certain he would have danced with me, that I refuſed Colonel H――, one of the moſt agreable men in the place, and therefore could not dance at all. Nothing hurt me ſo much as the impertinent looks of the women; I could cry for vexation.

Would your brother have behaved thus to Emily? but why do I name other men with your brother! do you know he and Emily had the good-nature to refuſe to dance, that my ſitting ſtill might be the leſs taken notice of? We all played at cards, and Rivers contrived to be of my party, by which he would have won Emily’s heart if he had not had it before.

Good night.

Let- H2r 147

Letter CII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Ihave been twice at Silleri with the intention of declaring my paſſion, and explaining my ſituation, to Emily; but have been prevented by company, which made it impoſſible for me to find the opportunity I wiſhed.

Had I found that opportunity, I am not ſure I ſhould have made uſe of it; a degree of timidity is inſeparable from true tenderneſs; and I am afraid of declaring myſelf a lover, leſt, if not beloved, I ſhould loſe the happineſs I at preſent poſſeſs in viſiting her as her friend: I cannot give up the dear delight I find in ſeeing her, in hearing her voice, in tracing and admiring every ſentiment of that lovely unaffected generous mind as it riſes.

H2 In H2v 148

In ſhort, my Lucy, I cannot live without her eſteem and friendſhip; and though her eyes, her attention to me, her whole manner, encourage me in the hope of being beloved, yet the poſſibility of my being miſtaken makes me dread an explanation by which I hazard loſing the lively pleaſure I find in her friendſhip.

This timidity however muſt be conquered; ’tis pardonable to feel it, but not to give way to it. I have ordered my carriole, and am determined to make my attack this very morning like a man of courage and a ſoldier.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

A letter H3r 149

A letter from Bell Fermor, to whom I wrote this morning on the ſubject: To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.You are a fooliſh creature, and know nothing of women. Dine at Silleri, and we will air after dinner; ’tis a glorious day, and if you are timid in a covered carriole, I give you up.Adieu! Yours,A. Fermor.

F3 Let- H3v 150

Letter CIII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall

She is an angel, my dear Lucy, and no words can do her juſtice: I am the happieſt of mankind; I painted my paſſion with all the moving eloquence of undiſſembled love; ſhe heard me with the moſt flattering attention; ſhe ſaid little, but her looks, her air, her tone of voice, her bluſhes, her very ſilence—how could I ever doubt her tenderneſs? have not thoſe lovely eyes a thouſand times betrayed the dear ſecret of her heart?

My Lucy, we were formed for each other; our ſouls are of intelligence; every thought, every idea—from the firſt moment I beheld her—I have a thouſand things to ſay, but the tumult of my joy—ſhe has given me leave H4r 151 leave to write to her; what has ſhe not ſaid in that permiſſion?

I cannot go to bed; I will go and walk an hour on the battery; ’tis the lovelieſt night I ever beheld, even in Canada: the day is ſcarce brighter.

I have had the ſweeteſt walk imaginable: the moon ſhines with a ſplendor I never ſaw before; a thouſand ſtreaming meteors add to her brightneſs; I have ſtood gazing on the lovely planet, and delighting myſelf with the idea that ’tis the ſame moon that lights my Emily.

Good night, my Lucy! I love you beyond all expreſſion; I always loved you tenderly, but there is a ſoftneſs about my heart to-night—this lovely woman—

H4 I know H4v 152

I know not what I would ſay, but till this night I could never be ſaid to live.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Letter CIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Ihad this morning a ſhort billet from her dear hand, entreating me to make up a quarrel between Bell Fermor and her lover: your friend has been indiſcreet; her ſpirit of coquetry is eternally carrying her wrong; but in my opinion Fitzgerald has been at leaſt equally to blame.

His behaviour at the governor’s on Thursſhy; day night was inexcuſable, as it expoſed her to the ſneers of a whole circle of her own ſex, many of them jealous of her perfections.

A lover H5r 153

A lover ſhould overlook little caprices, where the heart is good and amiable like Bell’s: I ſhould think myſelf particularly obliged to bring this affair to an amicable concluſion, even if Emily had not deſired it, as I was originally the innocent cauſe of their quarrel. In my opinion he ought to beg her pardon; and, as a friend tenderly intereſted for both, I have a right to tell him I think ſo: he loves her, and I know muſt ſuffer greatly, though a fooliſh pride prevents his acknowledging it.

My greateſt fear is, that an idle reſentment may engage him in an intrigue with the lady in queſtion, who is a woman of gallantry, and whom he may find very troubleſome hereafter. It is much eaſier to commence an affair of this kind than to break it off; and a man, though his heart was diſengaged, ſhould be always on his guard againſt any thing like an attachment where his affections are not really intereſted:H5 ed: H5v 154 ed: meer paſſion or meer vanity will ſupport an affair en paſſant; but, where the leaſt degree of conſtancy and attention are expected, the heart muſt feel, or the lover is ſubjecting himſelf to a ſlavery as irkſome as a marriage without inclination.

Temple will tell you I ſpeak like an oracle; for I have often ſeen him led by vanity into this very diſagreable ſituation: I hope I am not too late to ſave Fitzgerald from it.

All goes well: his proud heart is come down, he has begged her pardon, and is forgiven; you have no idea how civil both are to me, for having perſuaded them to do what each of them has longed to do from the firſt moment: I love to adviſe, when I am ſure the heart of the perſon adviſed is on my ſide. Both were to blame, but H6r 155 but I always love to ſave the ladies from any thing mortifying to the dignity of their characters; a little pride in love becomes them, but not us; and ’tis always our part to ſubmit on theſe occaſions.

I never ſaw two happier people than they are at preſent, as I have a little preſerved decorum on both ſides, and taken the whole trouble of the reconciliation on myſelf: Bell knows nothing of my having applied to Fitzgerald, nor he that I did it at Emily’s requeſt: my converſation with him on this ſubject ſeemed accidental. I was obliged to leave them, having buſineſs in town; but my lovely Emily thanked me by a ſmile which would overpay a thouſand ſuch little ſervices.

I am to ſpend to-morrow at Silleri: how long ſhall I think this evening!

H6 Adieu! H6v 156

Adieu! my tendereſt wiſhes attend you all!

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Letter CV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Fitzgerald has been here, and has begged my pardon; he declares he had no thought of diſpleaſing me at the governor’s, but from my behaviour was afraid of importuning me if he addreſſed me as uſual.

I thought who would come to firſt; for my part, if he had ſtayed away for ever, I would not have ſuffered papa to invite him to Silleri: it was eaſy to ſee his neglect was all pique; it would have been extraordinarynary H7r 157 nary indeed if ſuch a woman as Madame La Broſſe could have rivalled me: I am ſomething younger; and, if either my glaſs or the men are to be believed, as handſome: entre nous, there is ſome little difference; if ſhe was not ſo very fair, ſhe would be abſolutely ugly; and theſe very fair women, you know, Lucy, are always inſipid; ſhe is the taſte of no man breathing, though eternally making advances to every man; without ſpirit, fire, underſtanding, vivacity, or any quality capable of making amends for the mediocrity of her charms.

Her inſolence in attempting to attach Fitzgerald is intolerable, eſpecially when the whole province knows him to be my lover: there is no expreſſing to what a degree I hate her.

The next time we meet I hope to return her impertinence on Thurſday night at the gover- H7v 158 governor’s; I will never forgive Fitzgerald if he takes the leaſt notice of her.

Emily has read my letter; and ſays ſhe did not think I had ſo much of the woman in me; inſiſts on my being civil to Madame La Broſſe, but if I am, Lucy

Theſe Frenchwomen are not to be ſupported; they fancy vanity and aſſurance are to make up for the want of every other virtue; forgetting that delicacy, ſoftneſs, ſenſibility, tenderneſs, are attractions to which they are ſtrangers: ſome of them here are however tolerably handſome, and have a degree of livelineſs which makes them not quite inſupportable.

You will call all this ſpite, as Emily does, ſo I will ſay no more: only that, in order to ſhew her how very eaſy it is to be civil to a rival, I wiſh for the pleaſure of ſeeing another H8r 159 another French lady, that I could mention, at Quebec.

Good night, my dear! tell Temple, I am every thing but in love with him.

Your faithful,

A. Fermor.

I will however own, I encouraged Fitzgerald by a kind look. I was ſo pleaſed at his return, that I could not keep up the farce of diſdain I had projected: in love affairs, I am afraid, we are all fools alike.

Let- H8v 160

Letter CVI.

To Miſs Fermor.

Come to my dreſſing-room, my dear; I have a thouſand things to ſay to you: I want to talk of my Rivers, to tell you all the weakneſs of my ſoul.

No, my dear, I cannot love him more, a paſſion like mine will not admit addition; from the firſt moment I ſaw him my whole ſoul was his: I knew not that I was dear to him; but true genuine love is ſelf-exiſtent, and does not depend on being beloved; I ſhould have loved him even had he been attached to another.

This declaration has made me the happieſt of my ſex; but it has not increaſed, it could not increaſe, my tenderneſs: with what H9r 161 what ſoftneſs, what diffidence, what reſpect, what delicacy, was this declaration made! my dear friend, he is a god, and my ardent affection for him is fully juſtified.

I love him—no words can ſpeak how much I love him.

My paſſion for him is the firſt and ſhall be the laſt of my life: my boſom never heaved a ſigh but for my Rivers.

Will you pardon the folly of a heart which till now was aſhamed to own its feelings, and of which you are even now the only confidante?

I find all the world ſo inſipid, nothing amuſes me one moment; in ſhort, I have no pleaſure but in Rivers’s converſation, nor do I count the hours of his abſence in my exiſtence.

I know H9v 162

I know all this will be called folly, but it is a folly which makes all the happineſs of my life.

You love, my dear Bell; and therefore will pardon the weakneſs of your


Letter CVII.

To Miſs Montague.

Yes, my dear, I love, at leaſt I think ſo; but, thanks to my ſtars, not in the manner you do.

I prefer Fitzgerald to all the reſt of his ſex; but I count the hours of his abſence in my exiſtence; and contrive ſometimes to paſs them pleaſantly enough, if any other agreable man is in the way: in ſhort, I reliſh H10r 163 reliſh flattery and attention from others, though I infinitely prefer them from him.

I certainly love him, for I was jealous of Madame La Broſſe; but, in general, I am not alarmed when I ſee him flirt a little with others. Perhaps my vanity was as much wounded as my love, with regard to Madame La Broſſe.

I find love is quite a different plant in different ſoils; it is an exotic, and grows faintly, with us coquets; but in its native climate with you people of ſenſibility and ſentiment.

Adieu! I will attend you in a quarter of an hour.


A. Fermor.

Let- H10v 164

Letter CVIII.

To Miſs Fermor

Not alarmed, my dear, at his attention to others? believe me, you know nothing of love.

I think every woman who beholds my Rivers a rival; I imagine I ſee in ever female countenance a paſſion tender and lively as my own; I turn pale, my heart dies within me, if I obſerve his eyes a moment fixed on any other woman; I tremble at the poſſibility of his changing; I cannot ſupport the idea that the time may come when I may be leſs dear to my Rivers than at preſent. Do you believe it poſſible, my deareſt Bell, for any heart, not prepoſſeſſed, to be inſenſible one moment to my Rivers?

He H11r 165

He is formed to charm the ſoul of woman; his delicacy, his ſenſibility, the mind that ſpeaks through thoſe eloquent eyes; the thouſand graces of his air, the ſound of his voice—my dear, I never heard him ſpeak without feeling a ſoftneſs of which it is impoſſible to convey an idea.

But I am wrong to encourage a tenderneſs which is already too great; I will think leſs of him; I will not talk of him; do not ſpeak of him to me, my dear Bell: talk to me of Fitzgerald; there is no danger of your paſſion becoming too violent.

I wiſh you loved more tenderly, my deareſt; you would then be more indulgent to my weakneſs: I am aſhamed of owning it even to you.

3 Aſhamed, H11v 166

Aſhamed, did I ſay? no, I rather glory in loving the moſt amiable, the moſt angelic of mankind.

Speak of him to me for ever; I abhor all converſation of which he is not the ſubject. I am interrupted. Adieu!

Your faithful


My deareſt, I tremble; he is at the door; how ſhall I meet him without betraying all the weakneſs of my heart? come to me this moment, I will not go down without you. Your father is come to fetch me; follow me, I entreat: I cannot ſee him alone; my heart is too much ſoftened at this moment. He muſt not know to what exceſs he is beloved.

Let- H12r 167

Letter CIX.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Iam at preſent, my dear Lucy, extremely embarraſſed; Madame Des Roches is at Quebec: it is impoſſible for me not to be more than polite to her; yet my Emily has all my heart, and demands all my attention; there is but one way of ſeeing them both as often as I wiſh; ’tis to bring them as often as poſſible together: I wiſh extremely that Emily would viſit her, but ’tis a point of the utmoſt delicacy to manage.

Will it not on reflection be cruel to Madame Des Roches? I know her generoſity of mind, but I alſo know the weakneſs of the human heart: can ſhe ſee with pleaſure a beloved rival?

My H12v 168

My Lucy, I never ſo much wanted your advice: I will conſult Bell Fermor, who knows every thought of my Emily’s heart.

I have viſited Madame Des Roches at her relation’s; ſhe received me with a pleaſure which was too viſible not to be obſerved by all present: ſhe blushed, her voice faltered when she addreſſed me; her eyes had a ſoftneſs which seemed to reproach my inſenſibility: I was ſhocked at the idea of having inſpired her with a tenderneſs not in my power to return; I was afraid of increaſing that tenderneſs; I ſcarce dared to meet her looks.

I felt a criminal in the preſence of this amiable woman; for both our ſakes, I muſt ſee her ſeldom: yet what an appearance will my neglect have, after the attention ſhe has ſhewed me, and the friendſhip ſhe has expreſſed for me to all the world?

I know I1r 169

I know not what to determine. I am going to Silleri. Adieu till my return.

I have entreated Emily to admit Madame Des Roches among the number of her friends, and have aſked her to viſit her tomorrow morning: ſhe changed color at my requeſt, but promiſed to go.

I almoſt repent of what I have done: I am to attend Emily and Bell Fermor to Madame Des Roches in the morning: I am afraid I ſhall introduce them with a very bad grace. Adieu!

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Vol. II. I Let- I1v 170

Letter CX.

To Miſs Fermor.

Could you have believed he would have expected ſuch a proof of my deſire to oblige him? but what can he aſk that his Emily will refuſe? I will ſee this friend of his, this Madame Des Roches; I will even love her, if it is in woman to be ſo diſintereſted. She loves him; he ſees her; they ſay ſhe is amiable; I could have wiſhed her viſit to Quebec had been delayed.

But he comes; he looks up; his eyes ſeem to thank me for this exceſs of complaiſance: what is there I would not do to give him pleaſure?

Do I2r 171

Do you think her ſo very pleaſing, my dear Bell? ſhe has fine eyes, but have they not more fire than ſoftneſs? There was a vivacity in her manner which hurt me extremely: could ſhe have behaved with ſuch unconcern, had ſhe loved as I do?

Do you think it poſſible, Lucy, for a Frenchwoman to love? is not vanity the ruling paſſion of their hearts?

May not Rivers be deceived in ſuppoſing her ſo much attached to him? was there not ſome degree of affectation in her particular attention to me? I cannot help thinking her artful.

Perhaps I am prejudiced: ſhe may be amiable, but I will own ſhe does not pleaſe me.

I2 Rivers I2v 172

Rivers begged me to have a friendſhip for her; I am afraid this is more than is in my power: friendſhip, like love, is the child of ſympathy, not of conſtraint.

Adieu! Yours,

Emily Montague.

Letter CXI.

To Miſs Montague.

The incloſed, my dear, is as much to you as to me, perhaps more; I pardon the lady for thinking you the handſomeſt. Is not this the ſtrongeſt proof I could give of my friendſhip? perhaps I ſhould have been piqued, however, had the preference been given by a man; but I can I3r 173 can with great tranquillity allow you to be the women’s beauty.

Dictate an anſwer to your little Bell, who waits your commands at her bureau.


To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

You and your lovely friend obliged me beyond words, my dear Bell, by your viſit of yeſterday: Madame Des Rroches is charmed with you both: you will not be diſpleaſed when I tell you ſhe gives Emily the preference; ſhe ſays ſhe is beautiful as an angel; that ſhe ſhould think the man inſenſible, who could ſee her without love; that ſhe is touchant, to uſe her own word, beyond any thing ſhe ever beheld.

I3 She I3v 174

She however does juſtice to your charms, though Emily’s ſeem to affect her moſt. She even allows you to be perhaps more the taſte of men in general.

She intends paying her reſpects to you and Emily this afternoon; and has ſent to deſire me to conduct her. As it is ſo far, I would wiſh to find you at home.


Ed. Rivers.

Letter CXII.

To Miſs Fermor.

Always Madame Des Roches! but let her come: indeed, my dear, ſhe is artful; ſhe gains upon him by this appearance of generoſity; I cannot return it, I do I4r 175 I do not love her; yet I will receive her with politeneſs.

He is to drive her too; but ’tis no matter; if the tendereſt affection can ſecure his heart, I have nothing to fear: loving him as I do, it is impoſſible not to be apprehenſive: indeed, my dear, he knows not how I love him.


Your Emily.

Letter CXIII.

To Miſs Fermor.

Surely I am the weakeſt of my weak ſex; I am aſhamed to tell you all my feelings: I cannot conquer my diſlike to I4 Madame I4v 176 Madame Des Roches: ſhe ſaid a thouſand obliging things to me, ſhe praiſed my Rivers; I made her no anſwer, I even felt tears ready to ſtart; what muſt ſhe think of me? there is a meanneſs in my jealouſy of her, which I cannot forgive myſelf.

I cannot account for her attention to me, it is not natural; ſhe behaved to me not only with politeneſs, but with the appearance of affection; ſhe ſeemed to feel and pity my confuſion. She is either the moſt artful, or the moſt noble of women.

Adieu! Your


Let- I5r 177

Letter CXIIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

We are going to dine at a farm houſe in the country, where we are to meet other company, and have a ball: the ſnow begins a little to ſoften, from the warmth of the ſun, which is greater than in England in May. Our winter parties are almoſt at an end.

My father drives Madame Des Roches, who is of our party, and your brother Emily; I hope the little fool will be eaſy now, Lucy; ſhe is very humble, to be jealous of one, who, though really very pleaſing, is neither ſo young nor ſo handſome as herſelf; and who profeſſes to wiſh only for Rivers’s friendſhip.

I5 But I5v 178

But I have no right to ſay a word on this ſubject, after having been ſo extremely hurt at Fitzgerald’s attention to ſuch a woman as Madame La Broſſe; an attention too which was ſo plainly meant to pique me.

We are all, I am afraid, a little abſurd in theſe affairs, and therefore ought to have ſome degree of indulgence for others.

Emily and I, however, differ in our ideas of love: it is the buſineſs of her life, the amuſement of mine; ’tis the food of her hours, the ſeaſoning of mine.

Or, in other words, ſhe loves like a fooliſh woman, I like a ſenſible man: for men, you know, compared to women, love in about the proportion of one to twenty.

’Tis a mighty wrong thing, after all, Lucy, that parents will educate creatures 3 ſo I6r 179 ſo differently, who are to live with and for each other.

Every poſſible means is uſed, even from infancy, to ſoften the minds of women, and to harden thoſe of men; the contrary endeavor might be of uſe, for the men creatures are unfeeling enough by nature, and we are born too tremblingly alive to love, and indeed to every ſoft affection.

Your brother is almoſt the only one of his ſex I know, who has the tenderneſs of woman with the ſpirit and firmneſs of man: a circumſtance which ſtrikes every woman who converſes with him, and which contributes to make him the favorite he is amongſt us. Fooliſh women who cannot diſtinguiſh characters may poſſibly give the preference to a coxcomb; but I will venture to ſay, no woman of ſenſe was ever much acquainted with Colonel Rivers without feeling for him an affection of ſome kind or other.

I6 A propos I6v 180

A propos to women, the eſtimable part of us are divided into two claſſes only, the tender and the lively.

The former, at the head of which I place Emily, are infinitely more capable of happineſs; but, to counterbalance this advantage, they are alſo capable of miſery in the ſame degree. We of the other claſs, who feel leſs keenly, are perhaps upon the whole as happy, at leaſt I would fain think ſo.

For example, if Emily and I marry our preſent lovers, ſhe will certainly be more exquiſitely happy than I ſhall; but if they ſhould change their minds, or any accident prevent our coming together, I am inclined to fancy my ſituation would be much the moſt agreable.

I ſhould I7r 181

I ſhould pout a month, and then look about for another lover; whilſt the tender Emily would Sit like patience on a monument, and pine herſelf into a conſumption.

Adieu! They wait for me.


A. Fermor.

We have had a very agreable day, Lucy, a pretty enough kind of a ball, and every body in a good humor: I danced with Fitzgerald, whom I never knew ſo agreable.

Happy love is gay, I find; Emily is all ſprightlineſs, your brother’s eyes have never left I7v 182 left her one moment, and her bluſhes ſeemed to ſhew her ſenſe of the diſtinction; I never knew her look ſo handſome as this day.

Do you know I felt for Madame Des Roches? Emily was exceſſively complaiſant to her: ſhe returned her civility, but I could perceive a kind of conſtraint in her manner, very different from the eaſe of her behaviour when we ſaw her before: ſhe felt the attention of Rivers to Emily very ſtrongly: in ſhort, the ladies ſeemed to have changed characters for the day.

We ſupped with your brother on our return, and from his windows, which look on the river St. Charles, had the pleaſure of obſerving one of the moſt beautiful objects imaginable, which I never remember to have ſeen before this evening.

You I8r 183

You are to obſerve the winter method of fiſhing here, is to break openings like ſmall fiſh ponds on the ice, to which the fiſh coming for air, are taken in prodigious quantities on the ſurface.

To ſhelter themſelves from exceſſive cold of the night, the fiſhermen build ſmall houſes of ice on the river, which are arranged in a ſemicircular form, and extend near a quarter of a mile, and which, from the blazing fires within, have a brilliant tranſparency and vivid luſtre, not eaſy either to imagine or to deſcribe: the ſtarry ſemi- circle looks like an immenſe creſcent of diamonds, on which the ſun darts his meridian rays.

Abſolutely, Lucy, you ſee nothing in Europe: you are cultivated, you have the tame beauties of art; but to ſee nature in her lovely wild luxuriance, you muſt viſit your I8v 184 your brother when he is prince of the Kamaraſkas.

Adieu! Your faithful!

A. Fermor.

The variety, as well of grand objects, as of amuſements, in this country, confirms me in an opinion I have always had, that Providence had made the conveniences and inconveniences of life nearly equal every where. We have pleaſures here even in winter peculiar to the climate, which counterbalance the evils we ſuffer from its rigor. Good night, my dear Lucy!

Let- I9r 185

Letter CXIIIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Ihave this moment, my dear, a letter from Montreal, deſcribing ſome lands on Lake Champlain, which my friend thinks much better worth my taking than thoſe near the Kamaraſkas: he preſſes me to come up immediately to ſee them, as the ice on the rivers will in a few days be dangerous to travel on.

I am ſtrongly inclined to go, and for this reaoſn; I am convinced my wiſh of bringing about a friendſhip between Emily and Madame Des Roches, the ſtrongeſt reaſon I had for fixing at the Kamaraſkas, was an imprudent one: gratitude and (if the expreſſion is not impertinent) compaſſion give me I9v 186 me a ſoftneſs in my behaviour to the latter, which a ſuperficial obſerver would take for love, and which her own tenderneſs may cauſe even her to miſconſtrue; a circumſtance which muſt retard her reſolution of changing the affection with which ſhe has honored me, into friendſhip.

I am alſo delicate in my love, and cannot bear to have it one moment ſuppoſed, my heart can know a wiſh but for my Emily.

Shall I ſay more? The bluſh on Emily’s cheek on her firſt ſeeing Madame Des Roches convinced me of my indiſcretion, and that vanity alone carried me to deſire to bring together two women, whoſe affection for me is from their extreme merit ſo very flattering.

I ſhall certainly now fix in Canada; I can no longer doubt of Emily’s tenderneſs, though ſhe refuſes me her hand, from motivestives I10r 187 tives which makes her a thouſand times more dear to me, but which I flatter myſelf love will over-rule.

I am ſetting off in an hour for Montreal, and ſhall call at Silleri to take Emily’s commands.

I aſked her advice as to fixing the place of my ſettlement; ſhe ſaid much againſt my ſtaying in America at all; but, if I was determined, recommended Lake Champlain rather than the Kamaraſkas, on account of climate, Bell ſmiled; and a bluſh, which I perfectly underſtood, over-ſpread the lovely cheek of my ſweet Emily. Nothing could be more flattering than this circumſtance, had ſhe ſeen Madame Des Roches with a calm indifference, had ſhe not been alarmed at the idea of fixing near her, I ſhould have doubted I10v 188 doubted of the degree of her affection; a little apprehenſion is inſeparable from real love.

My courage has been to-day extremely put to the proof: had I ſtaid three days longer, it would have been impoſſible to have continued my journey.

The ice cracks under us at every ſtep the horſes ſet, a rather unpleaſant circumſtance on a river twenty fathom deep: I ſhould not have attempted the journey had I been aware of this particular. I hope no man meets inevitable danger with more ſpirit, but no man is leſs fond of ſeeking it where it is honorably to be avoided.

I am going to ſup with the ſeigneur of the village, who is, I am told, married to one of the handſomeſt women in the province.

Adieu! I11r 189

Adieu! my dear! I ſhall write to you from Montreal.

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Letter CXIVVI.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall

Iam arrived, my dear, after a very diſagreable and dangerous journey; I was obliged to leave the river ſoon after I left Des Chambeaux, and to purſue my way on the land over melting ſnow, into which the horſes feet ſunk half a yard every ſtep.

An officer juſt come from New York has given me a letter from you, which came thither I11v 190 thither by a private ſhip: I am happy to hear of your health, and that Temple’s affection for you ſeems rather to increaſe than leſſen ſince your marriage.

You aſk me, my dear Lucy, how to preſerve this affection, on the continuance of which, you juſtly ſay, your whole happineſs depends.

The queſtion is perhaps the moſt delicate and important which reſpects human life; the caprice, the inconſtancy, the injuſtice of men, makes the talk of women in marriage infinitely difficult.

Prudence and virtue will certainly ſecure eſteem; but, unfortunately, eſteem alone will not make a happy marriage; paſſion muſt alſo be kept alive, which the continual preſence of the object beloved is too apt to make ſubſide into that apathy, ſo inſupportable to ſenſible minds.

The I12r 191

The higher your rank, and the leſs your manner of life ſeparates you from each other, the more danger there will be of this indifference.

The poor, whoſe neceſſary avocations divide them all day, and whoſe ſenſibility is blunted by the coarſeneſs of their education, are in no danger of being weary of each other; and, unleſs naturally vicious, you will ſee them generally happy in marriage; whereas even the virtuous, in more affluent ſituations, are not ſecure from this unhappy ceſſation of tenderneſs.

When I received your letter, I was reading Madame De Maintenon’s advice to the Dutcheſs of Burgundy, on this ſubject. I will tranſcribe ſo much of it as relates to the woman, leaving her advice to the princeſs to thoſe whom it may concern.

Do I12v 192 Do not hope for perfect happineſs; there is no ſuch thing in this ſublunary ſtate. Your ſex is the more expoſed to ſuffer, becauſe it is always in dependence: be neither angry nor aſhamed of this dependence on a huſband, nor of any of thoſe which are in the order of Providence. Let your huſband be your beſt friend and your only confidant. Do not hope that your union will procure you perfect peace: the beſt marriages are thoſe where with ſoftneſs and patience they bear by turns with each other; there are none without ſome contradiction and diſagreement. Do not expect the ſame degree of friendſhip that you feel: men are in general leſs K1r 193 leſs tender than women; and you will be unhappy if you are too delicate in friendſhip. Beg of God to guard your heart from jealouſy: do not hope to bring back a huſband by complaints, ill humor, and reproaches. The only means which promiſe ſucceſs, are patience and ſoftneſs: impatience ſours and alienates hearts; ſoftneſs leads them back to their duty. In ſacrificing your own will, pretend to no right over that of a huſband: men are more attached to theirs than women, becauſe educated with leſs conſtraint. They are naturally tyrannical; they will have pleaſures and liberty, yet inſiſt that women renounce both: do not examine whether their rights are well founded; let it ſuffice to you, that they are eſtabliſhed; they are maſters, we Vol. II. K have K1v 194 have only to ſuffer and to obey with a good grace.

Thus far Madame De Maintenon, who muſt be allowed to have known the heart of man, ſince, after having been above twenty years a widow, ſhe enflamed, even to the degree of bringing him to marry her, that of a great monarch, younger than herſelf, ſurrounded by beauties, habituated to flattery, in the plenitude of power, and covered with glory; and retained him in her chains to the laſt moment of his life.

Do not, however, my dear, be alarmed at the picture ſhe has drawn of marriage; nor fancy with her, that women are only born to ſuffer and obey.

That we are generally tyrannical, I am obliged to own; but ſuch of us as know how to be happy, willingly give up the harſh title of maſter, for the more tender 3 and K2r 195 and endearing one of friend; men of ſenſe abhor thoſe cuſtoms which treat your ſex as if created meerly for the happineſs of the other; a ſuppoſition injurious to the Deity, though flattering to our tyranny and ſelf-love; and wiſh only to bind you in the ſoft chains of affection.

Equality is the ſoul of friendſhip: marriage, to give delight, muſt join two minds, not devote a ſlave to the will of an imperious lord; whatever conveys the idea of ſubjection neceſſarily destroys that of love, of which I am ſo convinced, that I have always wiſhed the word obey expunged from the marriage ceremony.

If you will permit me to add my ſentiments to thoſe of a lady ſo learned in the art of pleaſing; I would wiſh you to ſtudy the taſte of your huſband, and endeavor to acquire a reliſh for thoſe pleaſures which appear moſt to affect him; let him find K2 amuſement K2v 196 amuſement at home, but never to be peeviſh at his going abroad; he will return to you with the higher guſt for your converſation: have ſeparate apartments, ſince your fortune makes it not inconvenient; be always elegant, but not too expenſive, in your dreſs; retain your preſent exquiſite delicacy of every kind; receive his friends with good- breeding and complacency; contrive ſuch little parties of pleaſure as you know are agreable to him, and with the moſt agreable people you can ſelect: be lively even to playfulneſs in your general turn of converſation with him; but, at the ſame time, ſpare no pains ſo to improve your underſtanding, which is an excellent one, as to be no leſs capable of being the companion of his graver hours: be ignorant of nothing which it becomes your ſex to know, but avoid all affectation of knowledge: let your œconomy be exact, but without appearing otherwiſe than by the effect.

4 Do K3r 197

Do not imitate thoſe of your ſex who by ill temper make a huſband pay dear for their fidelity; let virtue in you be dreſt in ſmiles; and be aſſured that chearfulneſs is the native garb of innocence.

In one word, my dear, do not loſe the miſtreſs in the wife, but let your behaviour to him as a huſband be ſuch as you would have thought moſt proper to attract him as a lover: have always the idea of pleaſing before you, and you cannot fail to pleaſe.

Having lectured you, my dear Lucy, I muſt ſay a word to Temple: a great variety of rules have been given for the conduct of women in marriage; ſcarce any for that of men; as if it was not eſſential to domeſtic happineſs, that the man ſhould preſerve the heart of her with whom he is to ſpend his life; or as if beſtowing happineſs were not worth a man’s attention, ſo he poſſeſſed it: if, K3 however, K3v 198 however, it is poſſible to feel true happineſs without giving it.

You, my dear Temple, have too juſt an idea of pleaſure to think in this manner: you would be beloved; it has been the purſuit of your life, though never really attained perhaps before. You at preſent poſſeſs a heart full of ſenſibility, a heart capable of loving with ardor, and from the ſame cauſe as capable of being eſtranged by neglect: give your whole attention to preſerving this invaluable treaſure; obſerve every rule I have given to her, if you would be happy; and believe me, the heart of woman is not leſs delicate than tender; their ſenſibility is more keen, they feel more ſtrongly than we do, their tenderneſs is more eaſily wounded, and their hearts are more difficult to recover if once loſt.

At the ſame time, they are both by nature and education more conſtant, and ſcarce K4r 199 ſcarce ever change the object of their affections but from ill treatment: for which reaſon there is ſome excuſe for a cuſtom which appears cruel, that of throwing contempt on the huſband for the ill conduct of the wife.

Above all things, retain the politeneſs and attention of a lover; and avoid that careleſs manner which wounds the vanity of human nature, a paſſion given us, as were all paſſions, for the wiſeſt ends, and which never quits us but with life.

There is a certain attentive tenderneſs, difficult to be deſcribed, which the manly of our ſex feel, and which is peculiarly pleaſing to woman: ’tis alſo a very delightful ſenſation to ourſelves, as well as productive of the happieſt conſequences: regarding them as creatures placed by Providence under our protection, and depending on us for K4 their K4v 200 their happineſs, is the ſtrongeſt poſſible tie of affection to a well-turned mind.

If I did not know Lucy perfectly, I ſhould perhaps heſitate in the next advice I am going to give you; which is, to make her the confidante, and the only confidante, of your gallantries, if you are ſo unhappy as to be inadvertently betrayed into any: her heart will poſſibly be at firſt a little wounded by the confeſſion, but this proof of perfect eſteem wil increaſe her friendſhip for you; ſhe will regard your error with compaſſion and indulgence, and lead you gently back by her endearing tenderneſs to honor and herſelf.

Of all taſks I deteſt that of giving advice; you are therefore under infinite obligation to me for this letter.

Be K5r 201

Be aſſured of my tendereſt affection; and believe me,

Yours, &c.

Ed. Rivers.

Letter CXVII.

To the Earl of ――.

Nothing can be more true, my Lord, than that poverty is ever the inſeparable companion of indolence.

I ſee proofs of it every moment before me; with a ſoil fruitful beyond all belief, the Canadians are poor on lands which are their own property, and for which they K5 pay K5v 202 pay only a trifling quit-rent to their ſeigneurs.

This indolence appears in every thing: you ſcarce ſee the meaneſt peaſant walking; even riding on horſeback appears to them a fatigue inſupportable; you ſee them lolling at eaſe, like their lazy lords, in carrioles and calaſhes, according to the ſeaſon; a boy to guide the horſe on a ſeat in the front of the carriage, too lazy even to take the trouble of driving themſelves, their hands in winter folded in an immenſe muff, though perhaps their families are in want of bread to eat at home.

The winter is paſſed in a mixture of feſtivity and inaction; dancing and feaſting in their gayer hours; in their graver ſmoking, and drinking brandy, by the ſide of a warm ſtove: and when obliged to cultivate the ground in ſpring to procure the means of ſubſiſtence, you ſee them juſt turn the turf K6r 203 turf once lightly over, and, without manuring the ground, or even breaking the clods of earth, throw in the ſeed in the ſame careleſs manner, and leave the event to chance, without troubling themſelves further till it is fit to reap.

I muſt, however, obſerve, as ſome alleviation, that there is ſomething in the climate which ſtrongly inclines both the body and mind, but rather the latter, to indolence: the heat of the ſummer, though pleaſing, enervates the very ſoul, and gives a certain laſſitude unfavorable to induſtry; and the winter, at its extreme, binds up and chills all the active faculties of the ſoul.

Add to this, that the general ſpirit of amuſement, ſo univerſal here in winter, and ſo neceſſary to prevent the ill effects of the ſeaſon, gives a habit of diſſipation and pleaſure, which makes labor doubly irkſome at its return.

K6 Their K6v 204

Their religion, to which they are extremely bigoted, is another great bar, as well to induſtry as population: their numerous feſtivals inure them to idleneſs; their religious houſes rob the ſtate of many ſubjects who might be highly uſeful at preſent, and at the ſame time retard the increaſe of the colony.

Sloth and ſuperſtition equally counterwork providence, and render the bounty of heaven of no effect.

I am ſurprized the French, who generally make their religion ſubſervient to the purpoſes of policy, do not diſcourage convents, and leſſen the number of feſtivals, in the colonies, where both are ſo peculiarly pernicious.

It is to this circumſtance one may in great meaſure attribute the ſuperior increaſe of the K7r 205 the Britiſh American ſettlements compared to thoſe of France: a religion which encourages idelneſs, and makes a virtue of celibacy, is particularly unfavorable to colonization.

However religious prejudice may have been ſuffered to counterwork policy under a French government, it is ſcarce to be doubted that this cauſe of the poverty of Canada will by degrees be removed; that theſe people, ſlaves at preſent to ignorance and ſuperſtition, will in time be enlightened by a more liberal education, and gently led by reaſon to a religion which is not only preferable, as being that of the country to which they are now annexed, but which is ſo much more calculated to make them happy and proſperous as a people.

Till that time, till their prejudices ſubſide, it is equally juſt, humane, and wiſe, to K7v 206 to leave them the free right of worſhiping the Deity in the manner which they have been early taught to believe the beſt, and to which they are conſequently attached.

It would be unjuſt to deprive them of any of the rights of citizens on account of religion, in America, where every other ſect of diſſenters are equally capable of employ with thoſe of the eſtabliſhed church; nay where, from whatever cauſe, the church of England is on a footing in many colonies little better than a toleration.

It is undoubtedly, in a political light, an object of conſequence every where, that the national religion, whatever it is, ſhould be as univerſal as poſſible, agreement in religious worſhip being the ſtrongeſt tie to unity and obedience; had all prudent means been uſed to leſſen the number of diſſenters in our colonies, I cannot avoid believing, K8r 207 believing, from what I obſerve and hear, that we ſhould have found in them a ſpirit of rational loyalty, and true freedom, inſtead of the factious one from which ſo much is to be apprehended.

It ſeems conſonant to reaſon, that the religion of every country ſhould have a relation to, and coherence with, the civil conſtitution: the Romiſh religion is beſt adapted to a deſpotic government, the preſbyterian to a republican, and that of the church of England to a limited monarchy like ours.

As therefore the civil government of America is on the ſame plan with that of the mother country, it were to be wiſhed the religious eſtabliſhment was alſo the ſame, eſpecially in thoſe colonies where the people are generally of the national church; though with the fulleſt liberty of conſcience to diſſenters of all denominations.

I would K8v 208

I would be clearly underſtood, my Lord; from all I have obſerved here, I am convinced, nothing would ſo much contribute to diffuſe a ſpirit of order, and rational obedience, in the colonies, as the appointment, under proper reſtrictions, of biſhops: I am equally convinced that nothing would ſo much ſtrengthen the hands of government, or give ſuch pleaſure to the well- affected in the colonies, who are by much the moſt numerous, as ſuch an appointment, however clamored againſt by a few abettors of ſedition.

I am called upon for this letter, and muſt remit to another time what I wiſhed to ſay more to your Lordſhip in regard to this country.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, &c.

Wm. Fermor.

Let- K9r 209

Letter CXVIII.

To Mrs. Melmoth, at Montreal.

Iam indeed, Madam, this inconſiſtent creature. I have at once refuſed to marry Colonel Rivers, and owned to him all the tenderneſs of my ſoul.

Do not however think me mad, or ſuppoſe my refuſal the effect of an unmeaning childiſh affectation of diſintereſtedneſs: I can form to myſelf no idea of happineſs equal to that of ſpending my life with Rivers, the beſt, the moſt tender, the moſt amiable of mankind; nor can I support the idea of his marrying any other woman: I would therefore marry him to-morrow were it poſſible without ruining him, without dooming him to a perpetual exile, and obſtructing K9v 210 obſtructing thoſe views of honeſt ambition at home, which become his birth, his connexions, his talents, his time of life; and with which, as his friend, it is my duty to inſpire him.

His affection for me at preſent blinds him, he ſees no object but me in the whole univerſe; but ſhall I take advantage of that inebriation of tenderneſs, to ſeduce him into a meaſure inconſiſtent with his real happineſs and intereſt? He muſt return to England, muſt purſue fortune in that world for which he was formed: ſhall his Emily retard him in the glorious race? ſhall ſhe not rather encourage him in every laudable attempt? ſhall ſhe ſuffer him to hide that ſhining merit in the uncultivated wilds of Canada, the ſeat of barbariſm and ignorance, which entitles him to hope a happy fate in the dear land of arts and arms?

I en- K10r 211

I entreat you to do all you can to discourage his deſign. Remind him that his ſiſter’s marriage has in ſome degree removed the cauſe of his coming hither; that he can have now no motive for fixing here, but his tenderneſs for me; that I ſhall be juſtly blamed by all who love him for keeping him here. Tell him, I will not marry him in Canada; that his ſtay makes the beſt mother in the world wretched; that he owes his return to himſelf, nay to his Emily, whoſe whole heart is ſet on ſeeing him in a ſituation worthy of him: though without ambition as to myſelf, I am proud, I am ambitious for him; if he loves me, he will gratify that pride, that ambition; and leave Canada to thoſe whoſe duty confines them here, or whoſe intereſt it is to remain unſeen. Let him not once think of me in his determination: I am content to be beloved, and will leave all elſe to time. You cannot ſo much oblige or ſerve me, as by per- K10v 212 perſuading Colonel Rivers to return to England.

Believe me, my dear Madam, Your affectionate

Emily Montague.


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Your brother, my dear, is gone to Montreal to look out for a ſettlement, and Emily to ſpend a fortnight at Quebec, with a lady ſhe knew in England, who is lately arrived from thence by New York.

I am K11r 213

I am loſt without my friend, though my lover endeavors in ſome degree to ſupply her place; he lays cloſe ſiege; I know not how long I ſhall be able to hold out: this fine weather is exceedingly in his favor; the winter freezes up all the avenues to the heart; but this ſprightly April ſun thaws them again amazingly. I was the cruelleſt creature breathing whilſt the chilly ſeaſon laſted, but can anſwer for nothing now the ſprightly May is approaching.

I can ſee papa is vaſtly in Fitzgerald’s intereſt; but he knows our ſex well enough to keep this to himſelf.

I ſhall, however, for decency’s ſake, aſk his opinion on the affair as ſoon as I have taken my reſolution; which is the very time at which all the world aſk advice of their friends.

A letter K11v 214

A letter from Emily, which I muſt anſwer: ſhe is extremely abſurd, which your tender lovers always are.

Adieu! yours,

A. Fermor.

Sir George Clayton had left Montreal ſome days before your brother arrived there; I was pleaſed to hear it, becauſe, with all your brother’s good ſenſe, and concern for Emily’s honor, and Sir George’s natural coldneſs of temper, a quarrel between them would have been rather difficult to have been avoided.

Let- K12r 215


To Miſs Fermor.

DO you think, my dear ,that Madame Des Roches has heard from Rivers? I wiſh you would aſk her this afternoon at the governor’s: I am anxious to know, but aſhamed to enquire.

Not, my dear, that I have the weakneſs to be jealous; but I ſhall think his letter to me a higher compliment, if I know he writes to nobody elſe. I extremely approve his friendſhip for Madame Des Roches; ſhe is very amiable, and certainly deſerves it: but you know, Bell, it would be cruel to encourage an affection, which ſhe muſt conquer, or be unhappy: if ſhe did not love him, there would be nothing wrong in his writing K12v 216 writing to her; but, as ſhe does, it would be doing her the greateſt injury poſſible: ’tis as much on her account as on my own I am thus anxious.

Did you ever read ſo tender, yet ſo lively a letter as Rivers’s to me? he is alike in all: there is in his letters, as in his converſation, All that can ſoftly win, or gaily charmThe heart of woman. Even ſtrangers liſten to him with an involuntary attention, and hear him with a pleaſure for which they ſcarce know how to account.

He charms even without intending it, and in ſpite of himſelf; but when he wiſhes to pleaſe, when he addreſſes the woman he loves, when his eyes ſpeak the ſoft language of his heart, when your Emily L1r 217 Emily reads in them the dear confeſſion of his tenderneſs, when that melodious voice utters the ſentiments of the nobleſt mind that ever animated a human form—My deareſt, the eloquence of angels cannot paint my Rivers as he is.

I am almoſt inclined not to go to the governor’s to-night; I am determined not to dance till Rivers returns, and I know there are too many who will be ready to make obſervations on my refuſal: I think I will ſtay at home, and write to him againſt Monday’s poſt: I have a thouſand things to ſay, and you know we are continually interrupted at Quebec; I ſhall have this evening to myſelf, as all the world will be at the governor’s.

Adieu, your faithful

Emily Montague.

Vol. II. L Let- L1v 218

Letter CXIXXI.

To Miſs Montague, at Quebec.

Idare ſay, my dear, Madame Des Roches has not heard from Rivers; but ſuppoſe ſhe had. If he loves you, of what conſequence is it to whom he writes? I would not for the world any friend of yours ſhould aſk her ſuch a queſtion.

I ſhall call upon you at ſix o’clock, and ſhall expect to find you determined to go to the governor’s this evening, and to dance: Fitzgerald begs the honor of being your partner.

Believe me, Emily, theſe kind of unmeaning ſacrifices are childiſh; your heart is new to love, and you have all the romance of a 4 girl: L2r 219 girl: Rivers would, on your account, be hurt to hear you had refuſed to dance in his abſence, though he might be flattered to know you had for a moment entertained ſuch an idea.

I pardon you for having the romantic fancies of ſeventeen, provided you correct them with the good ſenſe of four and twenty.

Adieu! I have engaged myſelf to Colonel H――, on the preſumption that you are too polite to refuſe to dance with Fitzgerald, and too prudent to refuſe to dance at all.

Your affectionate

A. Fermor.

L2 Let- L2v 220

Letter CXXII.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri

How unjuſt have I been in my hatred of Madame Des Roches! ſhe ſpent yeſterday with us, and after dinner deſired to converſe with me an hour in my apartment, where ſhe opened to me all her heart on the ſubject of her love for Rivers

She is the nobleſt and moſt amiable of women, and I have been in regard to her the moſt capricious and unjuſt: my hatred of her was unworthy my character; I bluſh to own the meanneſs of my ſentiments, whilſt I admire the generoſity of hers.

3 Why, L3r 221

Why, my dear, ſhould I have hated her? ſhe was unhappy, and deſerved rather my compaſſion: I had deprived her of all hope of being beloved, it was too much to wiſh to deprive her alſo of his converſation. I knew myſelf the only object of Rivers’s love; why then ſhould I have envied her his friendſhip? ſhe had the ſtrongeſt reaſon to hate me, but I ſhould have loved and pitied her.

Can there be a misfortune equal to that of loving Rivers without hope of a return? Yet ſhe has not only born this misfortune without complaint, but has been the confidante of his paſſion for another; he owned to her all his tenderneſs for me, and drew a picture of me, which, ſhe told me, ought, had ſhe liſtened to reaſon, to have deſtroyed even the ſhadow of hope: but that love, ever ready to flatter and deceive, had betrayed her into the weakneſs of ſuppoſingL3 poſing L3v 222 poſing it poſſible I might refuſe him, and that gratitude might, in that caſe, touch his heart with tenderneſs for one who loved him with the moſt pure and diſintereſted affection; that her journey to Quebec had removed the veil love had placed between her and truth; that ſhe was now convinced the faint hope ſhe had encouraged was madneſs, and that our ſouls were formed for each other.

She owned ſhe ſtill loved him with the moſt lively affection; yet aſſured me, ſince ſhe was not allowed to make the moſt amiable of mankind happy herſelf, ſhe wiſhed him to be ſo with the woman on earth ſhe thought moſt worthy of him. She added, that ſhe had on firſt ſeeing me, though ſhe thought me worthy his heart, felt an impulſe of diſlike which ſhe was aſhamed to own, even now that reaſon and reflexion had conquered ſo unworthy a ſen- L4r 223 a ſentiment; that Rivers’s complaiſance had a little diſſipated her chagrin, and enabled her to behave to me in the manner ſhe did: that ſhe had, however, almoſt hated me at the ball in the country: that the tenderneſs in Rivers’s eyes that day whenever they met mine, and his comparative inattention to her, had wounded her to the ſoul. That this preference had, however, been ſalutary, though painful; ſince it had determined her to conquer a paſſion, which could only make her life wretched if it continued; that, as the firſt ſtep to this conqueſt, ſhe had reſolved to ſee him no more: that ſhe would return to her houſe the moment ſhe could croſs the river with ſafety; and conjured me, for her ſake, to perſuade him to give up all thoughts of a ſettlement near her; that ſhe could not anſwer for her own heart if ſhe continued to ſee him; that ſhe believed in love there was no ſafety but in flight. L4 That L4v 224 That his abſence had given her time to think coolly; and that ſhe now ſaw ſo ſtrongly the amiableneſs of my character, and was ſo convinced of my perfect tenderneſs for him, that ſhe ſhould hate herſelf were ſhe capable of wiſhing to interrupt our happineſs. That ſhe hoped I would pardon her retaining a tender remembrance of a man who, had he never ſeen me, might have returned her affection; that ſhe thought ſo highly of my heart, as to believe I could not hate a woman who eſteemed me, and who ſolicited my friendſhip, though a happy rival.

I was touched, even to tears, at her behaviour: we embraced; and, if I know my own weak fooliſh heart, I love her.

She L5r 225

She talks of leaving Quebec before Rivers’s return; ſhe ſaid, her coming was an imprudence which only love could excuſe; and that ſhe had no motive for her journey but the deſire of ſeeing him, which was ſo lively as to hurry her into an indiſcretion of which ſhe was afraid the world took but too much notice. What openneſs, what ſincerity, what generoſity, was there in all ſhe ſaid!

How ſuperior, my dear, is her character to mine! I bluſh for myſelf on the compariſon; I am ſhocked to ſee how much ſhe ſoars above me: how is it poſſible Rivers ſhould not have preferred her to me? Yet this is the woman I fancied incapable of any paſſion but vanity.

I am ſure, my dear Bell, I am not naturally envious of the merit of others; but L5 my L5v 226 my exceſs of love for Rivers makes me apprehenſive of every woman who can poſſibly rival me in his tenderneſs.

I was hurt at Madame Des Roches’s uncommon merit; I ſaw with pain the amiable qualities of her mind; I could ſcarce even allow her perſon to be pleaſing: but this injuſtice is not that of my natural temper, but of love.

She is certainly right, my dear, to ſee him no more; I applaud, I admire her reſolution: do you think, however, ſhe would purſue it if ſhe loved as I do? ſhe has perhaps loved before, and her heart has loſt ſomething of its native trembling ſenſibility.

I wiſh my heart felt her merit as ſtrongly as my reaſon: I eſteem, I admire, I even love her at preſent; but I am convinced Rivers’s return while ſhe continues here would L6r 227 would weaken theſe ſentiments of affection: the leaſt appearance of preference, even for a moment, would make me relapſe into my former weakneſs. I adore, I idolize her character; but I cannot ſincerely wiſh to cultivate her friendſhip.

Let me ſee you this afternoon at Quebec; I am told the roads will not be paſſable for carrioles above three days longer: let me therefore ſee you as often as I can before we are abſolutely ſhut from each other.

Adieu! my dear! Your faithful

Emily Montague.

L6 Let- L6v 228

Letter CXXIII.

To the Earl of ――.

England, however populous, is undoubtedly, my Lord, too ſmall to afford very large ſupplies of people to her colonies: and her people are alſo too uſeful, and of too much value, to be ſuffered to emigrate, if they can be prevented, whilſt there is ſufficient employment for them at home.

It is not only our intereſt to have colonies; they are not only neceſſary to our commerce, and our greateſt and ſureſt ſources of wealth, but our very being as a powerful commercial nation depends on them: it is therefore an object of all others moſt worthy our attention, that they ſhould L7r 229 ſhould be as flouriſhing and populous as poſſible.

It is however equally our intereſt to ſupport them at as little expence of our own inhabitants as poſſible: I therefore look on the acquiſition of ſuch a number of ſubjects as we found in Canada, to be a much ſuperior advantage to that of gaining ten times the immenſe tract of land ceded to us, if uncultivated and deſtitute of inhabitants.

But it is not only contrary to our intereſt to ſpare many of our own people as ſettlers in America; it muſt alſo be conſidered, that, if we could ſpare them, the Engliſh are the worſt ſettlers on new lands in the univerſe.

Their attachment to their native country, eſpecially amongſt the lower ranks of people, is ſo very ſtrong, that few of the honeſt L7v 230 honeſt and induſtrious can be prevailed on to leave it; thoſe therefore who go, are generally the diſſolute and the idle, who are of no uſe any where.

The Engliſh are alſo, though induſtrious, active, and enterprizing, ill fitted to bear the hardſhips, and ſubmit to the wants, which inevitably attend an infant ſettlement even on the moſt fruitful lands.

The Germans, on the contrary, with the ſame uſeful qualities, have a patience, a perſeverance, an abſtinence, which peculiarly fit them for the cultivation of new countries; too great encouragement therefore cannot be given to them to ſettle in our colonies: they make better ſettlers than our own people; and at the ſame time their numbers are an acquiſition of real ſtrength where they fix, without weakening the mother country.

It. L8r 231

It is long ſince the populouſneſs of Europe has been the cauſe of her ſending out colonies: a better policy prevails; mankind are enlightened; we are now convinced, both by reaſon and experience, that no induſtrious people can be too populous.

The northern ſwarms were compelled to leave their reſpective countries, not becauſe thoſe countries were unable to ſupport them, but becauſe they were too idle to cultivate the ground: they were a ferocious, ignorant, barbarous people, averſe to labor, attached to war, and, like our American ſavages, believing every employment not relative to this favorite object, beneath the dignity of man.

Their emigrations therefore were leſs owing to their populouſneſs, than to their want of induſtry, and barbarous contempt of agriculture and every uſeful art

It L8v 232

It is with pain I am compelled to ſay, the late ſpirit of encouraging the monopoly of farms, which, from a narrow ſhort-ſighted policy, prevails amongſt our landed men at home, and the alarming growth of celibacy amongſt the peaſantry which is its neceſſary conſequence, to ſay nothing of the ſame ruinous increaſe of celibacy in higher ranks, threaten us with ſuch a decreaſe of population, as will probably equal that cauſed by the ravages of thoſe ſcourges of heaven, the ſword, the famine, and the peſtilence.

If this ſelfiſh policy continues to extend itſelf, we ſhall in a few years be ſo far from being able to ſend emigrants to America, that we ſhall be reduced to ſolicit their return, and that of their poſterity, to prevent England’s becoming in its turn an uncultivated deſart.

But L9r 233

But to return to Canada; this large acquiſition of people is an invaluable treaſure, if managed, as I doubt not it will be, to the beſt advantage; if they are won by the gentle arts of perſuaſion, and the gradual progreſs of knowledge, to adopt ſo much of our manners as tends to make them happier in themſelves, and more uſeful members of the ſociety to which they belong: if with our language, which they ſhould by every means be induced to learn, they acquire the mild genius of our religion and laws, and that ſpirit of induſtry, enterprize, and commerce, to which we owe all our greatneſs.

Amongſt the various cauſes which concur to render France more populous than England, notwithſtanding the diſadvantage of a leſs gentle government, and a religion ſo very unfavorable to the increaſe of mankind, the cultivation of vineyards may be reckoned a prin- L9v 234 a principal one; as it employs a much greater number of hands than even agriculture itſelf, which has however infinite advantages in this reſpect above paſturage, the certain cauſes of a want of people wherever it prevails above its due proportion.

Our climate denies us the advantages ariſing from the culture of vines, as well as many others which nature has accorded to France; a conſideration which ſhould awaken us from the lethargy into which the avarice of individuals has plunged us, and ſet us in earneſt on improving every advantage we enjoy, in order to ſecure us by our native ſtrength from ſo formidable a rival.

The want of bread to eat, from the late falſe and cruel policy of laying ſmall farms into great ones, and the general diſcouragement of tillage which is its conſequence, is in L10r 235 in my opinion much leſs to be apprehended than the want of people to eat it.

In every country where the inhabitants are at once numerous and induſtrious, there will always be a proportionable cultivation.

This evil is ſo very deſtructive and alarming, that, if the great have not virtue enough to remedy it, it is to be hoped it will in time, like moſt great evils, cure itſelf.

Your Lordſhip enquires into the nature of this climate in reſpect to health. The air being uncommonly pure and ſerene, it is favorable to life beyond any I ever knew: the people live generally to a very advanced age; and are remarkably free from diſeaſes of every kind, except conſumptions, to which the younger part of the inhabitants are a good deal ſubject.

It L10v 236

It is however a circumſtance one cannot help obſerving, that they begin to look old much ſooner than the people in Europe; on which my daughter obſerves, that it is not very pleaſant for women to come to reſide in a country where people have a ſhort youth, and a long old age.

The diſeaſes of cold countries are in general owing to want of perſpiration; for which reaſon exerciſe, and even diſſipation, are here the beſt medicines.

The Indians therefore ſhewed their good ſenſe in adviſing the French, on their firſt arrival, to uſe dancing, mirth, chearfulneſs, and content, as the beſt remedies againſt the inconveniences of the climate.

I have already ſwelled this letter to ſuch a length, that I muſt poſtpone to another time my account of the peculiar natural productions L11r 237 productions of Canada; only obſerving, that one would imagine heaven intended a ſocial intercourſe between the moſt diſtant nations, by giving them productions of the earth ſo very different from each other, and each more than ſufficient for itſelf, that the exchange might be the means of ſpreading the bond of ſociety and brotherhood over the whole globe.

In my opinion, the man who conveys, and cauſes to grow, in any country, a grain, a fruit, or even a flower, it never poſſeſſed before, deſerves more praiſe than a thouſand heroes: he is a benefactor, he is in ſome degree a creator.

I have the honor to be, My Lord Your Lordſhip’s &c.

William Fermor.

Let- L11v 238

Letter CXXIIV.

To Miſs Montague, at Quebec.

Is it poſſible, my dear Emily, you can, after all I have ſaid, perſiſt in endeavoring to diſſwade me from a deſign on which my whole happineſs depends, and which I flattered myſelf was equally eſſential to yours? I forgave, I even admired, your firſt ſcruple; I thought it generoſity: but I have anſwered it; and if you had loved as I do, you would never again have named ſo unpleaſing a ſubject.

Does your own heart tell you mine will call a ſettlement here, with you, an exile? Examine yourſelf well, and tell me whether your averſion to ſtaying in Canada is not ſtronger L12r 239 ſtronger than your tenderneſs for your Rivers.

I am hurt beyond all words at the earneſtneſs with which you preſs Mrs. Melmoth to diſſwade me from ſtaying in this country: you preſs with warmth my return to England, though it would put an eternal bar between us: you give reaſons which, though the underſtanding may approve, the heart abhors: can ambition come in competition with tenderneſs? you fancy yourſelf generous, when you are only indifferent. Inſenſible girl! you know nothing of love.

Write to me inſtantly, and tell me every emotion of your ſoul, for I tremble at the idea that your affection is leſs lively than mine.

Adieu! I am wretched till I hear from you. Is it poſſible, my Emily, you can have ceaſed L12v 240 ceaſed to love him, who, as you yourſelf own, ſees no other object than you in the univerſe?

Adieu! Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

You know not the heart of your Rivers, if you ſuppoſe it capable of any ambition but that dear one of being beloved by you. What have you ſaid, my dear Emily? You will not marry me in Canada. You have paſſed a hard ſentence on me: you know my fortune will not allow me to marry you in England.

End of Vol. II.


Emily Montague.

By the Author of Lady Julia Mandeville.

Vol. III.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall.

A1v A2r

of Emily Montague.

Vol. III.

A2v A3r

of Emily Montague.

By the Author of Lady Julia Mandeville.

Vol. III.

Printed for J. Dodſley, in Pall Mall.

B1r 1

The History of Emily Montague


To Colonel Rivers, at Montreal.

How different, my Rivers, is your laſt letter from all your Emily has ever yet received from you! What have I done to deſerve ſuch suspicions? How unjuſt are your ſex in all their connexions with ours!

Vol. III. B Do B1v 2

Do I not know love? and does this reproach come from the man on whom my heart doats, the man, whom to make happy, I would with tranſport ceaſe to live? can you one moment doubt your Emily’s tenderneſs? have not her eyes, her air, her look, her indiſcretion, a thouſand times told you, in ſpite of herself, the dear ſecret of her heart, long before ſhe was conſcious of the tenderneſs of yours?

Did I think only of myſelf, I could live with you in a deſart; all places, all ſituations, are equally charming to me, with you: without you, the whole world affords nothing which could give a moment’s pleaſure to your Emily.

Let me but ſee thoſe eyes in which the tendereſt love is painted, let me but hear that enchanting voice, I am inſenſible to all elſe, I know nothing of what paſſes around me; B2r 3 me; all that has no relation to you paſſes away like a morning dream, the impreſſion of which is effaced in a moment: my tenderneſs for you fills my whole ſoul, and leaves no room for any other idea. Rank, fortune, my native country, my friends, all are nothing in the balance with my Rivers.

For your own ſake, I once more entreat you to return to England: I will follow you; I will ſwear never to marry another; I will ſee you, I will allow you to continue the tender inclination which unites us. Fortune may there be more favorable to our wiſhes than we now hope; may join us without deſtroying the peace of the beſt of parents.

But if you perſiſt, if you will ſacrifice every conſideration, to your tenderneſs— My Rivers, I have no will but yours.

B2 Let- B2v 4


To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

My dear Bell,

Lucy, being deprived of the pleaſure of writing to you, as ſhe intended, by Lady Anne Melville’s dining with her, deſires me to make her apologies.

Allow me to ſay ſomething for myſelf, and to ſhare my joy with one who will, I am ſure, so very ſincerely ſympathize with me in it.

I could not have believed, my dear Bell, it had been so very eaſy a thing to be conſtant: I declare, but don’t mention this, leſt I ſhould be laughed at, I have never felt B3r 5 felt the leaſt inclination for any other woman, ſince I married your lovely friend.

I now ſee a circle of beauties with the ſame indifference as a bed of ſnowdrops: no charms affect me but hers; the whole creation to me contains no other woman.

I find her every day, every hour, more lovely; there is in my Lucy a mixture of modeſty, delicacy, vivacity, innocence, and bluſhing senſibility, which add a thouſand unſpeakable graces to the moſt beautiful perſon the hand of nature ever formed.

There is no deſcribing her enchanting ſmile, the ſmile of unaffected, artleſs tenderneſs. How ſhall I paint to you the ſweet involuntary glow of pleaſure, the kindling fire of her eyes, when I approach; or thoſe thouſand little dear attentions of which love alone knows the value?

B3 I never, B3v 6

I never, my dear girl, knew happineſs till now; my tenderneſs is abſolutely a ſpecies of idolatry; you cannot think what a ſlave this lovely girl has made me.

As a proof of this, the little tyrant inſiſts on my omitting a thouſand civil things I had to ſay to you, and attending her and Lady Anne immediately to the opera; ſhe bids me however tell you, ſhe loves you paſſing the love of woman, or at least of handſome women, who are not generally celebrated for their candor and good will to each other.

Adieu, my dearest Bell! Yours.

J. Temple.

Let- B4r 7

Letter CXXVII.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

I ndeed?

Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario, That dear perfidious—

Abſolutely, my dear Temple, the ſex ought never to forgive Lucy for daring to monopolize ſo very charming a fellow. I had ſome thoughts of a little badinage with you myſelf, if I ſhould return ſoon to England; but I now give up the very idea.

One thing I will, however, venture to ſay, that love Lucy as much as you pleaſe, you will never love her half ſo well as ſhe B4 deſerves; B4v 8 deſerves; which, let me tell you, is a great deal for one woman, eſpecially, as you well obſerve, one handſome woman, to ſay of another.

I am, however, not quite clear your idea is juſt: cattiſm, if I may be allowed the expreſſion, ſeeming more likely to be the vice of thoſe who are conſcious of wanting themſelves the dear power of pleaſing.

Handſome women ought to be, what I profeſs myſelf, who am however only pretty, too vain to be envious; and yet we ſee, I am afraid, too often, ſome little ſparks of this mean paſſion between rival beauties.

Impartially ſpeaking, I believe the beſt natured women, and the moſt free from envy, are thoſe who, without being very handſome, have that je ne ſçai quoi, thoſe nameleſs graces, which pleaſe even without beauty; B5r 9 beauty; and who therefore, finding more attention paid to them by men than their looking-glaſs tells them they have a right to expect, are for that reaſon in conſtant good humor with themſelves, and of courſe with every body elſe: whereas beauties, claiming univerſal empire, are at war with all who diſpute their rights; that is, with half the ſex.

I am very good natured myſelf; but it is, perhaps, becauſe, though a pretty woman, I am more agreable than handſome, and have an infinity of the je ne ſçai quoi.

A propos, my dear Temple, I am ſo pleaſed with what Monteſquieu ſays on this ſubject, that I find it not in my nature to reſiſt tranſlating and inſerting it; you cannot then ſay I have ſent you a letter in which there is nothing worth reading.

B5 I beg B5v 10

I beg you will read this to the miſſes, for which you cannot fail of their thanks, and for this reaſon; there are perhaps a dozen women in the world who do not think themſelves handſome, but I will venture to ſay, not one who does not think herſelf agreable, and that ſhe has this nameleſs charm, this ſo much talked of I know not what, which is ſo much better than beauty. But to my Monteſquieu:

There is ſometimes, both in perſons and things, an inviſible charm, a natural grace, which we cannot define, and which we are therefore obliged to call the je ne ſçai quoi. It ſeems to me that this is an effect principally founded on ſurprize. We are touched that a perſon pleaſes us more than ſhe ſeemed at firſt to have a 4 right B6r 11 right to do; and we are agreably ſurprized that ſhe ſhould have known how to conquer thoſe defects which our eyes ſhewed us, but which our hearts no longer believe: ’tis for this reaſon that women, who are not handſome, have often graces or agreableneſſes; and that beautiful ones very ſeldom have. For a beautiful perſon does generally the very contrary of what we expected; ſhe appears to us by degrees leſs amiable, and, after having ſurprized us pleaſingly, ſhe ſurprizes us in a contrary manner; but the agreable impreſſion is old, the diſagreable one new: ’tis alſo ſeldom that beauties inſpire violent paſſions, which are almoſt always reſerved for thoſe who have graces, that is to ſay, agreableneſſes, which we did not expect, and which we had no reaſon to expect. B6 Magni- B6v 12 Magnificent habits have ſeldom grace, which the dreſſes of ſhepherdeſſes often have. We admire the majeſty of the draperies of Paul Veroneſe; but we are touched with the ſimplicity of Raphael, and the exactneſs of Corregio. Paul Veroneſe promiſes much, and pays all he promiſes; Raphael and Corregio promiſe little, and pay much, which pleaſes us more. Theſe graces, theſe agreableneſſes, are found oftener in the mind than in the countenance: the charms of a beautiful countenance are ſeldom hidden, they appear at firſt view; but the mind does not ſhew itſelf except by degrees, when it pleaſes, and as much as it pleaſes; it can conceal itſelf in order to appear, and B7r 13 and give that ſpecies of ſurprize to which thoſe graces, of which I ſpeak, owe their exiſtence. This grace, this agreableneſs, is leſs in the countenance than in the manner; the manner changes every inſtant, and can therefore every moment give us the pleaſure of ſurprize: in one word, a woman can be handſome but in one way, but ſhe may be agreable in a hundred thouſand.

I like this doctrine of Monteſquieu’s extremely, becauſe it gives every woman her chance, and becauſe it ranks me above a thouſand handſomer women, in the dear power of inſpiring paſſion.

Cruel creature! why did you give me the idea of flowers? I now envy you your foggy climate: the earth with you is at this moment covered with a thouſand lovely children B7v 14 children of the ſpring; with us, it is an univerſal plain of ſnow.

Our beaux are terribly at a loſs for ſimilies: you have lilies of the valley for compariſons; we nothing but what with the idea of whiteneſs gives that of coldneſs too.

This is all the quarrel I have with Canada: the ſummer is delicious, the winter pleaſant with all its ſeverities; but alas! the ſmiling ſpring is not here; we paſs from winter to ſummer in an inſtant, and loſe the ſprightly ſeaſon of the Loves.

A letter from the God of my idolatry—I muſt anſwer it inſtantly.

Adieu! Yours, &c.

A. Fermor.

Let- B8r 15


To Captain Fitzgerald.

Yes, I give permiſſion; you may come this afternoon: there is ſomething amuſing enough in your dear nonſenſe; and, as my father will be at Quebec, I ſhall want amuſement.

It will alſo furniſh a little chat for the miſſes at Quebec; a tête à tête with a tall Iriſhman is a ſubject which cannot eſcape their ſagacity.

Adieu! Yours,


Let- B8v 16


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

After my immenſe letter to your love, my dear, you muſt not expect me to ſay much to your fair ladyſhip.

I am glad to find you manage Temple ſo admirably; the wiſeſt, the wildeſt, the graveſt, and the gayeſt, are equally our ſlaves, when we have proper ideas of petticoat politics.

I intend to compoſe a code of laws for the government of huſbands, and get it tranſlated into all the modern languages; which I apprehend will be of infinite benefit to the world.

Do B9r 17

Do you know I am a greater fool than I imagined? You may remember I was always extremely fond of ſweet waters. I left them off lately, upon an idea, though a miſtaken one, that Fitzgerald did not like them: I yeſterday heard him ſay the contrary; and, without thinking of it, went mechanically to my dreſſing-room, and put lavender water on my handkerchief.

This is, I am afraid, rather a ſtrong ſymptom of my being abſurd; however, I find it pleaſant to be ſo, and therefore give way to it.

It is divinely warm to-day, though the ſnow is ſtill on the ground; it is melting faſt however, which makes it impoſſible for me to get to Quebec. I ſhall be confined for at leaſt a week, and Emily not with me: I die for amuſement. Fitzgerald ventures ſtill at the hazard of his own neck and his horſes B9v 18 horſes legs; for the latter of which animals I have ſo much compaſſion, what I have ordered both to ſtay at home a few days, which days I ſhall devote to ſtudy and contemplation, and little pert chit-chats with papa, who is ten times more fretful at being kept within doors than I am: I intend to win a little fortune of him at piquet before the world breaks in upon our ſolitude. Adieu! I am idle, but always

Your faithful

A. Fermor.


To the Earl of ――.

’Tis indeed, my Lord, an advantage for which we cannot be too thankful to the Supreme Being, to be born in a country,try, B10r 19 try, whoſe religion and laws are ſuch, as would have been the objects of our wiſhes, had we been born in any other.

Our religion, I would be underſtood to mean Chriſtianity in general, carries internal conviction by the excellency of its moral precepts, and its tendency to make mankind happy; and the peculiar mode of it eſtabliſhed in England breathes beyond all others the mild ſpirit of the Goſpel, and that charity which embraces all mankind as brothers.

It is equally free from enthuſiaſm and ſuperſtition; its outward form is decent and reſpectful, without affected oſtentation; and what ſhews its excellence above all others is, that every other church allows it to be the beſt, except itſelf: and it is an eſtabliſhed rule, that he has an undoubted right to the firſt rank of merit, to whom every man allows the ſecond.

As B10v 20

As to our government, it would be impertinent to praiſe it; all mankind allow it to be the maſter-piece of human wiſdom.

It has the advantage of every other form; with as little of their inconveniences as the imperfection attendant on all human inventions will admit: it has the monarchic quickneſs of execution and ſtability, the ariſtocratic diffuſive ſtrength and wiſdom of counſel, the democratic freedom and equal diſtribution of property.

When I mention equal diſtribution of property, I would not be underſtood to mean ſuch an equality as never exiſted, nor can exiſt but in idea; but that general, that comparative equality, which leaves to every man the abſolute and ſafe poſſeſſion of the fruits of his labors; which ſoftens offenſive diſtinctions, and curbs pride, by leaving every B11r 21 every order of men in ſome degree dependent on the other; and admits of thoſe gentle and almoſt imperceptible gradations, which the poet ſo well calls, Th’ according muſic of a well-mix’d ſtate.

The prince is here a centre of union; an advantage, the want of which makes a democracy, which is ſo beautiful in theory, the very worſt of all poſſible governments, except abſolute monarchy, in practice.

I am called upon, my Lord, to go to the citadel, to ſee the going away of the ice; an object ſo new to me, that I cannot reſiſt the curioſity I have to ſee it, though my going thither is attended with infinite difficulty.

Bell inſiſts on accompanying me: I am afraid for her, but ſhe will not be refuſed.

At B11v 22

At our return, I will have the honor of writing again to your Lordſhip, by the gentleman who carries this to New York.

I have the honor to be, my Lord, Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

Wm. Fermor.


To the Earl of ――.

We are returned, my Lord, from having ſeen an object as beautiful and magnificent in itſelf, as pleaſing from the idea it gives of renewing once more our intercourſe with Europe.

Before B12r 23

Before I ſaw the breaking of the vaſt body of ice, which forms what is here called the bridge, from Quebec to Point Levi, I imagined there could be nothing in it worth attention; that the ice would paſs away, or diſſolve gradually, day after day, as the influence of the ſun, and warmth of the air and earth increaſed; and that we ſhould ſee the river open, without having obſerved by what degrees it became ſo.

But I found the great river, as the ſavages with much propriety call it, maintain its dignity in this inſtance as in all others, and aſſert its ſuperiority over thoſe petty ſtreams which we honor with the names of rivers in England. Sublimity is the characteriſtic of this weſtern world; and the loftineſs of the mountains, the grandeur of the lakes and rivers, the majeſty of the rocks ſhaded with pictureſque variety of beautiful trees and ſhrubs, and crowned with the noblest of B12v 24 of the offſpring of the foreſt, which form the banks of the latter, are as much beyond the power of fancy as that of deſcription: a landſcape-painter might here expand his imagination, and find ideas which he will ſeek in vain in our comparatively little world.

The object of which I am ſpeaking has all the American magnificence.

The ice before the town, or, to ſpeak in the Canadian ſtile, the bridge, being of a thickneſs not leſs than five feet, a league in length, and more than a mile broad, reſiſts for a long time the rapid tide that attempts to force it from the banks.

We are prepared by many previous circumſtances to expect ſomething extraordidinary in this event, if I may ſo call it: every increaſe of heat in the weather for near a month before the ice leaves the banks, C1r 25 banks; every warm day gives you terror in thoſe you ſee venturing to paſs it in carrioles; yet one froſty night makes it again ſo ſtrong, that even the ladies, and the timid amongſt them, ſtill venture themſelves over in parties of pleaſure; though greatly alarmed at their return, if a few hours of uncommon warmth intervenes.

But, during the laſt fortnight, the alarm grows indeed a very ſerious one: the eye can diſtinguiſh, even at a conſiderable diſtance, that the ice is ſoftened and detached from the banks, and you dread every ſtep being death to thoſe who have ſtill the temerity to paſs it, which they will continue always to do till one or more pay their raſhneſs with their lives.

From the time the ice is no longer a bridge on which you ſee crowds driving with ſuch vivacity on buſineſs or pleaſure, every one is looking eagerly for its breakingIII. C ing C1v 26 ing away, to remove the bar to the continually wiſhed and expected event, of the arrival of ſhips from that world from whence we have ſeemed ſo long in a manner excluded.

The hour is come; I have been with a crowd of both ſexes, and all ranks, hailing the propitious moment: our ſituation, on the top of Cape Diamond, gave us a proſpect ſome leagues above and below the town; above Cape Diamond the river was open, it was ſo below Point Levi, the rapidity of the current having forced a paſſage for the water under the tranſparent bridge, which for more than a league continued firm.

We ſtood waiting with all the eagerneſs of expectation; the tide came ruſhing with an amazing impetuoſity; the bridge ſeemed to ſhake, yet reſiſted the force of the waters; the tide recoiled, it made a pauſe, it ſtood C2r 27 ſtood ſtill, it returned with redoubled fury, the immenſe maſs of ice gave way.

A vaſt plain appeared in motion; it advanced with ſolemn and majeſtic pace: the points of land on the banks of the river for a few moments ſtopped its progreſs; but the immenſe weight of ſo prodigious a body, carried along by a rapid current, bore down all oppoſition with a force irreſiſtible.

There is no deſcribing how beautiful the opening river appears, every moment gaining on the ſight, till, in a time leſs than can poſſibly be imagined, the ice paſſing Point Levi, is hid in one moment by the projecting land, and all is once more a clear plain before you; giving at once the pleaſing, but unconnected, ideas of that direct intercourſe with Europe from which we have been ſo many months excluded, and of the earth’s again opening her fertile boſom, to feaſt our eyes and imagination with her various verdant and flowery productions.

C2 I am C2v 28

I am afraid I have conveyed a very inadequate idea of the ſcene which has juſt paſſed before me; it however ſtruck me ſo ſtrongly, that it was impoſſible for me not to attempt it.

If my painting has the leaſt reſemblance to the original, your Lordſhip will agree with me, that the very viciſſitudes of ſeaſon here partake of the ſublimity which ſo ſtrongly characterizes the country.

The changes of ſeaſon in England, being ſlow and gradual, are but faintly felt; but being here ſudden, inſtant, violent, afford to the mind, with the lively pleaſure ariſing from meer change, the very high additional one of its being accompanied with grandeur. I have the honor to be,

My Lord, Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

William Fermor.

Let- C3r 29

Letter CXXXII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Certainly, my dear, you are ſo far right; a nun may be in many reſpects a leſs unhappy being than ſome women who continue in the world; her ſituation is, I allow, paradiſe to that of a married woman, of ſenſibility and honor, who diſlikes her huſband.

The cruelty therefore of ſome parents here, who ſacrifice their children to avarice, in forcing or ſeducing them into convents, would appear more ſtriking, if we did not ſee too many in England guilty of the ſame inhumanity, though in a different manner, by marrying them againſt their inclination.

C3 Your C3v 30

Your letter reminds me of what a French married lady here ſaid to me on this very ſubject: I was exclaiming violently againſt convents; and particularly urging, what I thought unanſwerable, the extreme hardſhip of circumſtance; that, however unhappy the ſtate was found on trial, there was no retreat; that it was for life.

Madame De―― turned quick, And is not marriage for life?

True, Madam; and, what is worſe, without a year of probation. I confeſs the force of your argument.

I have never dared ſince to mention convents before Madame De――.

Between you and I, Lucy, it is a little unreaſonable that people will come together entirely upon ſordid principles, and then wonder C4r 31 wonder they are not happy: in delicate minds, love is ſeldom the conſequence of marriage.

It is not abſolutely certain that a marriage of which love is the foundation will be happy; but it is infallible, I believe, that no other can be ſo to ſouls capable of tenderneſs.

Half the world, you will pleaſe to obſerve, have no ſouls; at leaſt none but of the vegetable and animal kinds: to this ſpecies of beings, love and ſentiment are entirely unneceſſary; they were made to travel through life in a ſtate of mind neither quite awake nor aſleep; and it is perfectly equal to them in what company they take the journey.

You and I, my dear, are ſomething awakened; therefore it is neceſſary we ſhould love where we marry, and for this C4 reaſon: C4v 32 reaſon: our ſouls, being of the active kind, can never be totally at reſt; therefore, if we were not to love our huſbands, we ſhould be in dreadful danger of loving ſomebody elſe.

For my part, whatever tall maiden aunts and couſins may ſay of the indecency of a young woman’s diſtinguiſhing one man from another, and of love coming after marriage; I think marrying, in that expectation, on ſober prudent principles, a man one diſlikes, the moſt deliberate and ſhameful degree of vice of which the human mind is capable.

I cannot help obſerving here, that the great aim of modern education ſeems to be, to eradicate the beſt impulſes of the human heart, love, friendſhip, compaſſion, benevolence; to deſtroy the ſocial, and encreaſe the ſelfiſh principle. Parents wiſely attempt to root out thoſe affections which ſhould only C5r 33 only be directed to proper objects, and which heaven gave us as the means of happineſs; not conſidering that the ſucceſs of ſuch an attempt is doubtful; and that, if they ſucceed, they take from life all its ſweetneſs, and reduce it to a dull unactive round of taſteleſs days, ſcarcely raiſed above vegetation.

If my ideas of things are right, the human mind is naturally virtuous; the buſineſs of education is therefore leſs to give us good impreſſions, which we have from nature, than to guard us againſt bad ones, which are generally acquired.

And ſo ends my ſermon.

Adieu! my dear! Your faithful

A. Fermor.

C5 A letter C5v 34

A letter from your brother; I believe the dear creature is out of his wits: Emily has conſented to marry him, and one would imagine by his joy that nobody was ever married before. He is going to Lake Champlain, to fix on his ſeat of empire, or rather Emily’s; for I ſee ſhe will be the reigning queen, and he only her majeſty’s conſort. I am going to Quebec; two or three dry days have made the roads paſſable for ſummer carriages: Fitzgerald is come to fetch me. Adieu!

I am come back, have ſeen Emily, who is the happieſt woman exiſting; ſhe has heard from your brother, and in ſuch terms— C6r 35 terms—his letter breathes the very ſoul of tenderneſs. I wiſh they were richer. I don’t half reliſh their ſettling in Canada; but, rather than not live together, I believe they would conſent to be ſet aſhore on a deſart iſland. Good night.


To the Earl of ――.

The pleaſure the mind finds in travelling, has undoubtedly, my Lord, its ſource in that love of novelty, that delight in acquiring new ideas, which is interwoven in its very frame, which ſhews itſelf on every occaſion from infancy to age, which is the firſt paſſion of the human mind, and the laſt.

C6 There C6v 36

There is nothing the mind of man abhors ſo much as a ſtate of reſt: the great ſecret of happineſs is to keep the ſoul in continual action, without thoſe violent exertions, which wear out its powers, and dull its capacity of enjoyment; it ſhould have exerciſe, not labor.

Vice may juſtly be called the fever of the ſoul, inaction its lethargy; paſſion, under the guidance of virtue, its health.

I have the pleaſure to ſee my daughter’s coquetry giving place to a tender affection for a very worthy man, who ſeems formed to make her happy: his fortune is eaſy; he is a gentleman, and a man of worth and honor, and, what perhaps inclines me to be more partial to him, of my own profeſſion.

I mention the laſt circumſtance in order to introduce a requeſt, that your Lordſhip 4 would C7r 37 would have the goodneſs to employ that intereſt for him in the purchaſe of a majority, which you have ſo generouſly offered to me; I am determined, as there is no proſpect of real duty, to quit the army, and retire to that quiet which is ſo pleaſing at my time of life: I am privately in treaty with a gentleman for my company, and propoſe returning to England in the firſt ſhip, to give in my reſignation: in this point, as well as that of ſerving Mr. Fitzgerald, I ſhall without ſcruple call upon your Lordſhip’s friendſhip.

I have ſettled every thing with Fitzgerald, but without ſaying a word to Bell; and he is to ſeduce her into matrimony as ſoon as he can, without my appearing at all intereſted in the affair: he is to aſk my conſent in form, though we have already ſettled every preliminary.

All C7v 38

All this, as well as my intention of quitting the army, is yet a ſecret to my daughter.

But to the queſtions your Lordſhip does me the honor to aſk me in regard to the Americans, I mean thoſe of our old colonies: they appear to me, from all I have heard and ſeen of them, a rough, ignorant, poſitive, very ſelfiſh, yet hoſpitable people.

Strongly attached to their own opinions, but ſtill more ſo to their intereſts, in regard to which they have inconceivable ſagacity and addreſs; but in all other reſpects I think naturally inferior to the Europeans; as education does ſo much, it is however difficult to aſcertain this.

I am rather of opinion they would not have refuſed ſubmiſſion to the ſtamp act, or diſputed the power of the legiſlature at home, C8r 39 home, had not their minds been firſt embittered by what touched their intereſts ſo nearly, the reſtraints laid on their trade with the French and Spaniſh ſettlements, a trade by which England was an immenſe gainer; and by which only a few enormouſly rich Weſt India planters were hurt.

Every advantage you give the North Americans in trade centers at laſt in the mother country; they are the bees, who roam abroad for that honey which enriches the paternal hive.

Taxing them immediately after their trade is reſtrained, ſeems like drying up the ſource, and expecting the ſtream to flow.

Yet too much care cannot be taken to ſupport the majeſty of government, and aſſert the dominion of parent country.

A good C8v 40

A good mother will conſult the intereſt and happineſs of her children, but will never ſuffer her authority to be diſputed.

An equal mixture of mildneſs and ſpirit cannot fail of bringing theſe miſtaken people, miſled by a few of violent temper and ambitious views, into a juſt ſenſe of their duty.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, &c.

William Fermor.

Let- C9r 41


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Ihave got my Emily again, to my great joy; I am nobody without her. As the roads are already very good, we walk and ride perpetually, and amuſe ourſelves as well as we can, en attendant your brother, who is gone a ſettlement hunting.

The quickneſs of vegetation in this country is aſtoniſhing; though the hills are ſtill covered with ſnow, and though it even continues in ſpots in the vallies, the latter with the trees and ſhrubs in the woods are already in beautiful verdure; and the earth every where putting forth flowers in a wild and lovely variety and profuſion.

’Tis C9v 42

’Tis amazingly pleaſing to ſee the ſtrawberries and wild panſies peeping their little fooliſh heads from beneath the ſnow.

Emily and I are prodigiouſly fond after having been ſeparated; it is divine relief to us both, to have again the delight of talking of our lovers to each other: we have been a month divided; and neither of us have had the conſolation of a friend to be fooliſh to.

Fitzgerald dines with us: he comes.

Adieu! yours,

A. Fermor.

Let- C10r 43


To the Earl of ――

My Lord,

Ihave been converſing, if the expreſſion is not improper when I have not had an opportunity of ſpeaking a ſyllable, more than two hours with a French officer, who has declaimed the whole time with the moſt aſtoniſhing volubility, without uttering one word which could either entertain or inſtruct his hearers; and even without ſtarting any thing that deſerved the name of a thought.

People who have no ideas out of the common road are, I believe, generally the greateſt talkers, becauſe all their thoughts are low enough for common converſation; whereas C10v 44 whereas thoſe of more elevated underſtandings have ideas which they cannot eaſily communicate except to perſons of equal capacity with themſelves.

This might be brought as an argument of the inferiority of womens underſtanding to ours, as they are generally greater talkers, if we did not conſider the limited and trifling educations we give them; men, amongſt other advantages, have that of acquiring a greater variety as well as ſublimity of ideas.

Women who have converſed much with men are undoubtedly in general the moſt pleaſing companions; but this only ſhews of what they are capable when properly educated, ſince they improve ſo greatly by that accidental and limited opportunity of acquiring knowledge.

Indeed the two ſexes are equal gainers, by converſing with each other: there is a mutual C11r 45 mutual deſire of pleaſing, in a mixed converſation, reſtrained by politeneſs, which ſets ever amiable quality in a ſtronger light.

Bred in ignorance from one age to another, women can learn little of their own ſex.

I have often thought this the reaſon why officers daughters are in general more agreable than other women in an equal rank of life.

I am almoſt tempted to bring Bell as an inſtance; but I know the blindneſs and partiality of nature, and therefore check what paternal tenderneſs would dictate.

I am ſhocked at what your Lordſhip tells me of Miſs H――. I know her imprudent, I believe her virtuous: a great flow of ſpirits has been ever hurrying her into indiſcretions;cretions; C11v 46 cretions; but allow me to ſay, my Lord, it is particularly hard to fix the character by our conduct, at a time of life when we are not competent judges of our own actions; and when the hurry and vivacity of youth carries us to commit a thouſand follies and indiſcretions, for which we bluſh when the empire of reaſon begins.

Inexperience and openneſs of temper betray us in early life into improper connexions; and the very conſtancy, and nobleneſs of nature, which characterize the beſt hearts, continue the deluſion.

I know Miſs H―― perfectly; and am convinced, if her father will treat her as a friend, and with the indulgent tenderneſs of affection endeavor to wean her from a choice ſo very unworthy of her, he will infallibly ſucceed; but if he treats her with harſhneſs, ſhe is loſt for ever.

I He C12r 47

He is too ſtern in his behaviour, too rigid in his morals: it is the intereſt of virtue to be repreſented as ſhe is, lovely, ſmiling, and ever walking hand in hand with pleaſure: we were formed to be happy, and to contribute to the happineſs of our fellow creatures; there are no real virtues but the ſocial ones.

’Tis the enemy of human kind who has thrown around us the gloom of ſuperſtition, and taught that auſterity and voluntary miſery is virtue.

If moraliſts would indeed improve human nature, they ſhould endeavor to expand, not to contract the heart; they ſhould build their ſyſtem on the paſſions and affections, the only foundations of the nobler virtues.

From C12v 48

From the partial repreſentations of narrow-minded bigots, who paint the Deity from their own gloomy conceptions, the young are too often frighted from the paths of virtue; deſpairing of ideal perfections, they give up all virtue as unattainable, and ſtart aſide from the road which they falſely ſuppoſe ſtrewed with thorns.

I have ſtudied the heart with ſome attention; and am convinced every parent, who will take the pains to gain his childrens friendſhip, will for ever be the guide and arbiter of their conduct: I ſpeak from a happy experience.

Notwithſtanding all my daughter ſays in gaiety of heart, ſhe would ſooner even relinquiſh the man ſhe loves, than offend a father in whom ſhe has always found the tendereſt and moſt faithful of friends. I am interrupted, D1r 49 interrupted, and have only time to ſay, I have the honor to be,

My Lord, &c.

Wm. Fermor.


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Madame Deſ Roches has juſt left us; ſhe returns to-day to the Kamaraſkas: ſhe came to take leave of us, and ſhewed a concern at parting from Emily, which really affected me. She is a moſt amiable woman; Emily and ſhe were in tears at parting; yet I think my ſweet friend is not ſorry for her return: ſhe loves her, but yet cannot abſolutely forget ſhe has been her rival, and is as well ſatisfied that ſhe leaves Quebec before your brother’s arrival.

Vol. III. D The D1v 50

The weather is lovely; the earth is in all its verdure, the trees in foliage, and no ſnow but on the ſides of the mountains; we are looking eagerly out for ſhips from dear England: I expect by them volumes of letters from my Lucy. We expect your brother in a week: in ſhort, we are all hope and expectation; our hearts beat at every rap of the door, ſuppoſing it brings intelligence of a ſhip, or of the dear man.

Fitzgerald takes ſuch amazing pains to pleaſe me, that I begin to think it is pity ſo much attention ſhould be thrown away; and am half inclined, from meer compaſſion, to follow the example you have ſo heroically ſet me.

Abſolutely, Lucy, it requires amazing reſolution to marry.

Adieu! yours,

A. Fermor.

Let- D2r 51


To Colonel Rivers, at Montreal.

Iam returned, my Rivers, to my ſweet friend, and have again the dear delight of talking of you without reſtraint; ſhe bears with, ſhe indulges me in, all my weakneſs; if that name ought to be given to a tenderneſs of which the object is the moſt exalted and worthy of his ſex.

It was impoſſible I ſhould not have loved you; the ſoul that ſpoke in thoſe eloquent eyes told me, the firſt moment we met, our hearts were formed for each other; I ſaw in that amiable countenance a ſenſibility ſimilar to my own, but which I had till then ſought in vain; I ſaw there thoſe benevolent ſmiles, which are the marks, and D2 the D2v 52 the emanations of virtue; thoſe thouſand graces which ever accompany a mind conſcious of its own dignity, and ſatisfied with itſelf; in ſhort, that mental beauty which is the expreſs image of the Deity.

What defence had I againſt you, my Rivers, ſince your merit was ſuch that my reaſon approved the weakneſs of my heart?

We have loſt Madame Des Roches; we were both in tears at parting; we embraced, I preſſed her to my boſom: I love her, my dear Rivers; I have an affection for her which I ſcarce know how to deſcribe. I ſaw her every day, I found infinite pleaſure in being with her; ſhe talked of you, ſhe praiſed you, and my heart was ſoothed; I however found it impoſſible to mention your name to her; a reſerve for which I cannot account; I found pleaſure in looking at her from the idea that ſhe was dear to you, that ſhe felt for you the tendereſt friendſhip:ſhip: D3r 53 ſhip: do you know I think ſhe has ſome reſemblance of you? there is ſomething in her ſmile, which gives me an idea of you.

Shall I, however, own all my folly? I never found this pleaſure in ſeeing her when you were preſent: on the contrary, your attention to her gave me pain: I was jealous of every look; I even ſaw her amiable qualities with a degree of envy, which checked the pleaſure I ſhould otherwiſe have found in her converſation.

There is always, I fear, ſome injuſtice mixed with love, at leaſt with love ſo ardent and tender as mine.

You, my Rivers, will however pardon that injuſtice which is proof of my exceſs of tenderneſs.

Madame Des Roches has promiſed to write to me: indeed I will love her; I will D3 conquer D3v 54 conquer this little remain of jealouſy, and do juſtice to the moſt gentle and amiable of women.

Why ſhould I diſlike her for ſeeing you with my eyes, for having a ſoul whoſe feelings reſemble my own?

I have obſerved her voice is ſoftened, and trembles like mine, when ſhe names you.

My Rivers, you were formed to charm the heart of woman; there is more pleaſure in loving you, even without the hope of a return, than in the adoration of all your ſex: I pity every woman who is ſo inſenſible as to ſee you without tenderneſs. This is the only fault I ever found in Bell Fermor: ſhe has the moſt lively friendſhip for you, but ſhe has ſeen you without love. Of what materials muſt her heart be compoſed?

No D4r 55

No other man can inſpire the ſame ſentiments with my Rivers; no other man can deſerve them: the delight of loving you appears to me ſo ſuperior to all other pleaſures, that, of all human beings, if I was not Emily Montague, I would be Madame Des Roches.

I bluſh for what I have written; yet why bluſh for having a ſoul to diſtinguiſh perfection, or why conceal the real feelings of my heart?

I will never hide a thought from you; you ſhall be at once the confidant and the dear object of my tenderneſs.

In what words—my Rivers, you rule every emotion of my heart; diſpoſe as you pleaſe of your Emily: yet, if you allow her to form a wiſh in oppoſition to yours, indulge her in the tranſport of returning you D4 to D4v 56 to your friends; let her receive you from the hands of a mother, whoſe happineſs you ought to prefer even to hers.

Why will you talk of the mediocrity of your fortune? have you not enough for every real want? much leſs, with you, would make your Emily bleſt: what have the trappings of life to do with happineſs? ’tis only ſacrificing pride to love and filial tenderneſs; the worſt of human paſſions to the beſt.

I have a thouſand things to ſay, but am forced to ſteal this moment to write to you: we have ſome French ladies here, who are eternally coming to my apartment.

They are at the door. Adieu!


Emily Montague.

Let- D5r 57


To the Earl of ――.

It were indeed, my Lord, to be wiſhed that we had here ſchools, at the expence of the public, to teach Engliſh to the riſing generation: nothing is a ſtronger tie of brotherhood and affection, a greater cement of union, than ſpeaking one common language.

The want of attention to this circumſtance has, I am told, had the worſt effects poſſible in the province of New York, where the people, eſpecially at a diſtance from the capital, continuing to ſpeak Dutch, retain their affection for their ancient maſters, and ſtill look on their D5 Engliſh D5v 58 Engliſh fellow ſubjects as ſtrangers and intruders.

The Canadians are the more eaſily to be won to this, or whatever elſe their own, or the general good requires, as their nobleſſe have the ſtrongeſt attachment to a court, and that favor is the great object of their ambition: were Engliſh made by degrees the court language, it would ſoon be univerſally ſpoke.

Of the three great ſprings of the human heart, intereſt, pleaſure, vanity, the laſt appears to me much the ſtrongeſt in the Canadians; and I am convinced the moſt forcible tie their nobleſſe have to France, is their unwillingneſs to part with their croix de St. Louis: might not therefore ſome order of the ſame kind be inſtituted for Canada, and given to all who have the croix, on their ſending back the enſigns they D6r 59 they now wear, which are inconſiſtent with their allegiance as Britiſh ſubjects?

Might not ſuch an order be contrived, to be given at the diſcretion of the governor, as well to the Canadian gentlemen who merited moſt of the government, as to the Engliſh officers of a certain rank, and ſuch other Engliſh as purchaſed eſtates, and ſettled in the country? and, to give it additional luſtre, the governor, for the time being, be always head of the order?

’Tis poſſible ſomething of the ſame kind all over America might be alſo of ſervice; the paſſions of mankind are nearly the ſame every where: at leaſt I never yet ſaw the ſoil or climate, where vanity did not grow; and till all mankind become philoſophers, it is by their paſſions they muſt be governed.

D6 The D6v 60

The common people, by whom I mean the peaſantry, have been great gainers here by the change of maſters; their property is more ſecure, their independence greater, their profits much more than doubled: it is not them therefore whom it is neceſſary to gain.

The nobleſſe, on the contrary, have been in a great degree undone: they have loſt their employs, their rank, their conſideration, and many of them their fortunes.

It is therefore equally conſonant to good policy and to humanity that they ſhould be conſidered, and in the way moſt acceptable to them; the rich conciliated by little honorary diſtinctions, thoſe who are otherwiſe by ſharing in all lucrative employs; and all of them by bearing a part in the legiſlature of their country.

The D7r 61

The great objects here ſeem to be to heal thoſe wounds, which paſt unhappy diſputes have left ſtill in ſome degree open; to unite the French and Engliſh, the civil and military, in one firm body; to raiſe a revenue, to encourage agriculture, and eſpecially the growth of hemp and flax; and find a ſtaple, for the improvement of a commerce, which at preſent labors under a thouſand diſadvantages.

But I ſhall ſay little on this or any political ſubject relating to Canada, for a reaſon which, whilſt I am in this colony, it would look like flattery to give: let it ſuffice to ſay, that humanly ſpeaking, it is impoſſible that the inhabitants of this province ſhould be otherwiſe than happy.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, &c.

William Fermor.

Let- D7v 62


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Iconfess the fact, my dear; I am, thanks to papa, amazingly learned, and all that, for a young lady of twenty-two: yet you will allow I am not the worſe; no creature breathing would ever find it out: envy itſelf muſt confeſs, I talk of lace and blond like any other chriſtian woman.

I have been thinking, Lucy, as indeed my ideas are generally a little pindaric, how entertaining and improving would be the hiſtory of the human heart, if people ſpoke all the truth, and painted themſelves as they really are: that is to ſay, if all the world were as ſincere and honeſt as I am; for, upon my word, I have ſuch a contempt for D8r 63 for hypocriſy, that, upon the whole, I have always appeared to have fewer good qualities than I really have.

I am afraid we ſhould find in the beſt characters, if we withdrew the veil, a mixture of errors and inconſiſtencies, which would greatly leſſen our veneration.

Papa has been reading me a wiſe lecture, this morning, on playing the fool: I reminded him, that I was now arrived at years of indiſcretion; that every body muſt have their day; and that thoſe who did not play the fool young, ran a hazard of doing it when it would not half ſo well become them.

A propos to playing the fool, I am ſtrongly inclined to believe I ſhall marry.

Fitzgerald is ſo aſtoniſhingly preſſing— Beſides, ſome how or other, I don’t feel happy D8v 64 happy without him: the creature has ſomething of a magnetic virtue; I find myſelf generally, without knowing it, on the ſame ſide the room with him, and often in the next chair; and lay a thouſand little ſchemes to be of the ſame party at cards.

I write pretty ſentiments in my pocketbook, and carve his name on trees when nobody ſees me: did you think it poſſible I could be ſuch an ideot?

I am as abſurd as even the gentle love- ſick Emily.

I am thinking, my dear, how happy it is, ſince moſt human beings differ ſo extremely one from another, that heaven has given us the ſame variety in our taſtes.

Your brother is a divine fellow, and yet there is a ſaucineſs about Fitzgerald which pleaſes me better; as he has told me a thouſand D9r 65 thouſand times, he thinks me infinitely more agreable than Emily.

Adieu! I am going to Quebec.


A. Fermor.


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Io triumphe!! A ſhip from England! You can have no idea of the univerſal tranſport at the ſight; the whole town was on the beach, eagerly gazing at the charming ſtranger, who danced gaily on the waves, as if conſcious of the pleaſure ſhe inſpired.

If D9v 66

If our joy is ſo great, who preſerve a correſpondence with Europe, through our other colonies, during the winter, what muſt that of the French have been, who were abſolutely ſhut up ſix months from the reſt of the world?

I can ſcarce conceive a higher delight than they muſt have felt at being thus reſtored to a communication with mankind.

The letters are not delivered; our ſervant ſtays for them at the poſt-office; we expect him every moment: if I have not volumes from you, I ſhall be very angry.

He comes. Adieu! I have not patience to wait their being brought up ſtairs.


A. Fermor.

They D10r 67

They are here; ſix letters from you; I ſhall give three of them to Emily to read, whilſt I read the reſt: you are very good, Lucy, and I will never call you lazy again.


To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Whilst I was ſealing my letter, I received yours of the 1767-02-011ſt of February.

I am exceſſively alarmed, my dear, at the account it gives me of Miſs Montague’s having broke with her lover, and of my brother’s extreme affection for her.

I did D10v 68

I did not dare to let my mother ſee that letter, as I am convinced the very idea of a marriage which muſt for ever ſeparate her from a ſon ſhe loves to idolatry, would be fatal to her; ſhe is altered ſince his leaving England more than you can imagine; ſhe is grown pale and thin, her vivacity has entirely left her. Even my marriage ſcarce ſeemed to give her pleaſure; yet ſuch is her delicacy, her ardor for his happineſs, ſhe will not ſuffer me to ſay this to him, leſt it ſhould conſtrain him, and prevent his making himſelf happy in his own way. I often find her in tears in her apartment; ſhe affects a ſmile when ſhe ſees me, but it is a ſmile which cannot deceive one who knows her whole ſoul as I do. In ſhort, I am convinced ſhe will not live long unleſs my brother returns. She never names him without being ſoftened to a degree not to be expreſſed.

Amiable D11r 69

Amiable and lovely as you repreſent this charming woman, and great as the ſacrifice is ſhe has made to my brother, it ſeems almoſt cruelty to wiſh to break his attachment to her; yet, ſituated as they are, what can be the conſequence of their indulging their tenderneſs at preſent, but ruin to both?

At all events, however, my dear, I intreat, I conjure you, to preſs my brother’s immediate return to England; I am convinced, my mother’s life depends on ſeeing him.

I have often been tempted to write to Miſs Montague, to uſe her influence with him even againſt herſelf.

If ſhe loves him, ſhe will have his true happineſs at heart; ſhe will conſider what a mind like his muſt hereafter ſuffer, ſhould his fondneſs for her be fatal to the I beſt D11v 70 beſt of mothers; ſhe will urge, ſhe will oblige him to return, and make this ſtep the condition of preſerving her tenderneſs.

Read this letter to her; and tell her, it is to her affection for my brother, to her generoſity, I truſt for the life of a parent who is dearer to me than my exiſtence.

Tell her my heart is hers, that I will receive her as my guardian angel, that we will never part, that we will be friends, that we will be ſiſters, that I will omit nothing poſſible to make her happy with my brother in England, and that I have very rational hopes it may be in time accompliſhed; but that, if ſhe marries him in Canada, and ſuffers him to purſue his preſent deſign, ſhe plants a dagger in the boſom of her who gave him life.

2 I ſcarce D12r 71

I ſcarce know what I would ſay, my dear Bell; but I am wretched; I have no hope but in you. Yet if Emily is all you repreſent her—

I am obliged to break off: my mother is here; ſhe muſt not ſee this letter.

Adieu! your affectionate

Lucy Temple.

Let- D12v 72

Letter CXLII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Your letter of the 1767-04-088th of April, my dear, was firſt read by Emily, being one of the three I have her for that purpoſe, as I before mentioned.

She went through it, and melting into tears, left the room without ſpeaking a word: ſhe has been writing this morning, and I fancy to you, for ſhe enquired when the mail ſet out for England, and ſeemed pleaſed to hear it went to-day.

I am exceſſively ſhocked at your account of Mrs. Rivers: aſſure her, in my name, of your brother’s immediate return; I know both him and Emily too well to believe they E1r 73 they will ſacrifice her to their own happineſs: there is nothing, on the contrary, they will not ſuffer rather than even afflict her.

Do not, however, encourage an idea of ever breaking an attachment like theirs; an attachment founded leſs in paſſion than in the tendereſt friendſhip, in a ſimilarity of character, and a ſympathy the moſt perfect the world ever ſaw.

Let it be your buſineſs, my Lucy, to endeavor to make them happy, and to remove the bars which prevent their union in England; and depend on ſeeing them there the very moment their coming is poſſible.

From what I know of your brother, I ſuppoſe he will inſiſt on marrying Emily before he leaves Quebec; but, after your Vol. III. E letter, E1v 74 letter, which I ſhall ſend him, you may look on his return as infallible.

I ſend all yours and Temple’s letters for your brother to-day: you may expect to hear from him by the ſame mail with this.

I have only to ſay, I am,

A. Fermor.

Letter CXLIII.

To Colonel Rivers, at Quebec.

My own happineſs, my dear Rivers, in a marriage of love, makes me extremely unwilling to prevent your giving way to a tenderneſs, which promiſes you the ſame felicity, with ſo amiable a woman2 man E2r 75 man as both you and Bell Fermor repreſent Miſs Montague to be.

But, my dear Ned, I cannot, without betraying your friendſhip, and hazarding all the quiet of your future days, diſpenſe with myſelf from telling you, though I have her expreſs commands to the contrary, that the peace, perhaps the life, of your excellent mother, depends on your giving up all thoughts of a ſettlement in America, and returning immediately to England.

I know the preſent ſtate of your affairs will not allow you to marry this charming woman here, without deſcending from the ſituation you have ever held, and which you have a right from your birth to hold, in the world.

Would you allow me to gratify my friendſhip for you, and ſhew, at the ſame time, E2 your E2v 76 your perfect eſteem for me, by commanding, what our long affection gives you a right to, ſuch a part of my fortune as I could eaſily ſpare without the leaſt inconvenience to myſelf, we might all be happy, and you might make your Emily ſo: but you have already convinced me, by your refuſal of a former requeſt of this kind, that your eſteem for me is much leſs warm than mine for you; and that you do not think I merit the delight of making you happy.

I will therefore ſay no more on this ſubject till we meet, than that I have no doubt this letter will bring you immediately to us.

If the tenderneſs you expreſs for Miſs Montague is yet conquerable, it will ſurely be better for both it ſhould be conquered, as fortune has been ſo much leſs kind to each of you than nature; but if your hearts are E3r 77 are immoveably fixed on each other, if your love is of the kind which deſpiſes every other conſideration, return to the boſom of friendſhip, and depend on our finding ſome way to make you happy.

If you perſiſt in refuſing to ſhare my fortune, you can have no objection to my uſing all my intereſt, for a friend and brother ſo deſervedly dear to me, and in whoſe happineſs I ſhall ever find my own.

Allow me now to ſpeak of myſelf; I mean of my dearer ſelf, your amiable ſiſter, for whom my tenderneſs, inſtead of decreaſing, grows every moment ſtronger.

Yes, my friend, my ſweet Lucy is every hour more an angel: her deſire of being beloved, renders her a thouſand times more lovely; a countenance animated by true tenderneſs will always charm beyond all E3 the E3v 78 the dead uninformed features the hand of nature ever framed; love embelliſhes the whole form, gives ſpirit and ſoftneſs to the eyes, the moſt vivid bloom to the complexion, dignity to the air, grace to every motion, and throws round beauty almoſt the rays of divinity.

In one word, my Lucy was always more lovely than any other woman; ſhe is now more lovely than even her former ſelf.

You, my Rivers, will forgive the overflowings of my fondneſs, becauſe you know the merit of its object.

Adieu! We die to embrace you!

Your faithful

J. Temple.

Let- E4r 79

Letter CXLIIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Your letter, Madam, to Miſs Fermor, which, by an accident, was firſt read by me, has removed the veil which love had placed before mine eyes, and ſhewed me, in one moment, the folly of all thoſe dear hopes I had indulged.

You do me but juſtice in believing me incapable of ſuffering your brother to ſacrifice the peace, much leſs the life, of an amiable mother, to my happineſs: I have no doubt of his returning to England the moment he receives your letters; but, knowing his tenderneſs, I will not expoſe him to a ſtruggle on this occaſion: I will E4 myſelf, E4v 80 myſelf, unknown to him, as he is fortunately abſent, embark in a ſhip which has wintered here, and will leave Quebec in ten days.

You invitation is very obliging; but a moment’s reflection will convince you of the extreme impropriety of my accepting it.

Aſſure Mrs. Rivers, that her ſon will not loſe a moment, that he will probably be with her as ſoon as this letter; aſſure her alſo, that the woman who has kept him from her, can never forgive herſelf for what ſhe ſuffers.

I am too much afflicted to ſay more than that.

I am, Madam,

Emily Montague.

Let- E5r 81


To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

It is with a pleaſure no words can expreſs I tell my ſweet Emily, I have fixed on a ſituation which promiſes every advantage we can wiſh as to profit, and which has every beauty that nature can give.

The land is rich, and the wood will more than pay the expence of clearing it; there is a ſettlement within a few leagues, on which there is an extreme agreable family: a number of Acadians have applied to me to be received as ſettlers: in ſhort, my dear angel, all ſeems to ſmile on our deſign.

E5 I have E5v 82

I have ſpent ſome days at the houſe of a German officer; lately in our ſervice, who is engaged in the ſame deſign, but a little advanced in it. I have ſeen him increaſing every hour his little domain, by clearing the lands; he has built a pretty houſe in a beautiful ruſtic ſtyle: I have ſeen his pleaſing labors with inconceivable delight. I already fancy my own ſettlement advancing in beauty: I paint to myſelf my Emily adorning thoſe lovely ſhades; I ſee her, like the mother of mankind, admiring a new creation which ſmiles around her: we appear, to my idea, like the firſt pair in paradiſe.

I hope to be with you the 1767-06-011ſt of June: will you allow me to ſet down the 1767-06-022d as the day which is to aſſure me to a life of happineſs?

My E6r 83

My Acadians, your new ſubjects, are waiting in the next room to ſpeak with me.

All good angels guard my Emily.

Adieu! your

Ed. Rivers.


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Emily has wrote to you, and appears more compoſed; ſhe does not however tell me what ſhe has reſolved; ſhe has only mentioned a deſign of ſpending a week at Quebec. I ſuppoſe ſhe will take no reſolution till your brother comes E6 down: E6v 84 down: he cannot be here in leſs than ten days.

She has heard from him, and he has fixed on a ſettlement: depend however on his return to England, even if it is not to ſtay. I wiſh he could prevail on Mrs. Rivers to acompany him back. The advantages of his deſign are too great to loſe; the voyage is nothing; the climate healthy beyond all conception.

I fancy he will marry as ſoon as he comes down from Montreal, ſet off in the firſt ſhip for England, leave Emily with me, and return to us next year: at leaſt, this is the plan my heart has formed.

I wiſh Mrs. Rivers had born his abſence better; her impatience to ſee him has broken in on all our ſchemes; Emily and I had in fancy formed a little Eden on Lake Champlain: Fitzgerald had promiſed me 1 to E7r 85 to apply for lands near them; we ſhould have been ſo happy in our little new world of friendſhip.

There is nothing certain in this vile ſtate of exiſtence: I could philoſophize extremely well this morning.

All our little plans of amuſement too for this ſummer are now at an end; your brother was the ſoul of all our parties. This is a trifle, but my mind to-day ſeeks for every ſubject of chagrin.

Let but my Emily be happy, and I will not complain, even if I loſe her: I have a thouſand fears, a thouſand uneaſy reflections: if you knew her merit, you would not wiſh to break the attachment.

My ſweet Emily is going this morning to Quebec; I have promiſed to accompany her, and ſhe now waits for me.

I can- E7v 86

I cannot write: I have a heavineſs about my heart, which has never left me ſince I read your letter. ’Tis the only diſagreable one I ever received from my dear Lucy: I am not ſure I love you ſo well as before I ſaw this letter. There is ſomething unfeeling in the ſtyle of it, which I did not expect from you.

Adieu! your faithful

A. Fermor.

Letter CXLVII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Iam unhappy beyond all words; my ſweet Emily is gone to England; the ſhip ſailed this morning: I am juſt returnedturned E8r 87 turned from the beach, after conducting her on board.

I uſed every art, every perſuaſion, in the power of friendſhip, to prevent her going till your brother came down; but all I ſaid was in vain. She told me, ſhe knew too well her own weakneſs to hazard ſeeing him; that ſhe alſo knew his tenderneſs, and was reſolved to ſpare him the ſtruggle between his affection and his duty; that ſhe was determined never to marry him but with the conſent of his mother; that their meeting at Quebec, ſituated as they were, could only be the ſource of unhappineſs to both; that her heart doated on him, but that ſhe would never be the cauſe of his acting in a manner unworthy his character: that ſhe would ſee his family the moment ſhe got to London, and then retire to the houſe of a relation in Berkſhire, where ſhe would wait for his arrival.

That E8v 88 That ſhe had given you her promiſe which nothing ſhould make her break, to embark in the firſt ſhip for England.

She expreſſed no fears for herſelf as to the voyage, but trembled at the idea of her Rivers’s danger.

She ſat down ſeveral times yeſterday to write to him, but her tears prevented her: ſhe at laſt aſſumed courage enough to tell him her deſign; but it was in ſuch terms as convinced me ſhe could not have purſued it, had he been here.

She went to the ſhip with an appearance of calmneſs that aſtoniſhed me; but the moment ſhe entered, all her reſolution forſook her: ſhe retired with me to her room, where ſhe gave way to all the agony of her ſoul.

The E9r 89

The word was given to ſail; I was ſummoned away; ſhe roſe haſtily, ſhe preſſed me to her boſom, Tell him, ſaid ſhe, his Emily—ſhe could ſay no more.

Never in my life did I feel any ſorrow equal to this ſeparation. Love her, my Lucy; you can never have half the tenderneſs for her ſhe merits.

She ſtood on the deck till the ſhip turned Point Levi, her eyes fixed paſſionately on our boat.

I have this moment a letter from your brother to Emily, which ſhe directed me to open, and ſend to her; I incloſe it to you, as the ſafeſt way of conveyance: there is one in it from Temple to him, on the ſame ſubject with yours to me.

Adieu! E9v 90

Adieu! I will write again when my mind is more compoſed.


A. Fermor.


To Miſs Montague, at Silleri.

It was my wiſh, my hope, my nobleſt ambition, my dear Emily, to ſee you in a ſituation worthy of you; my ſanguine temper flattered me with the idea of ſeeing this wiſh accompliſhed in Canada, though fortune denied it me in England.

The E10r 91

The letter which I incloſe has put an end to thoſe fond deluſive hopes: I muſt return immediately to England; did not my own heart dictate this ſtep, I know too well the goodneſs of yours, to expect the continuance of your eſteem, were I capable of purchaſing happineſs, even the happineſs of calling you mine, at the expence of my mother’s life, or even of her quiet.

I muſt now ſubmit to ſee my Emily in an humbler ſituation; to ſee her want thoſe pleaſures, thoſe advantages, thoſe honors, which fortune gives, and which ſhe has ſo nobly ſacrificed to true delicacy of mind, and, if I do not flatter myſelf, to her generous and diſtintereſted affection for me.

Be aſſured, my deareſt angel, the inconveniences attendant on a narrow fortune, the only one I have to offer, ſhall be ſoftened E10v 92 ſoftened by all which the moſt lively eſteem, the moſt perfect friendſhip, the tendereſt love, can inſpire; by that attention, that unwearied ſolicitude to pleaſe, of which the heart alone knows the value.

Fortune has no power over minds like ours; we poſſeſs a treaſure to which all ſhe has to give is nothing, the dear exquiſite delight of loving, and of being beloved.

Awake to all the finer feelings of tender eſteem and elegant deſire, we have every real good in each other.

I ſhall hurry down, the moment I have ſettled my affairs here; and hope ſoon to have the tranſport of preſenting the moſt charming of friends, of miſtreſſes, allow me to add, of wives, to a mother whom I love and revere beyond words, and to whom ſhe will ſoon be dearer than myſelf.

My E11r 93

My going to England will detain me at Montreal a few days longer than I intended; a delay I can very ill ſupport.

Adieu! my Emily! no language can expreſs my tenderneſs or my impatience.

Your faithful

Ed. Rivers.


To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

Icannot enough, my dear Temple, thank you for your laſt, though it deſtroys my air-built ſcheme of happineſs.

Could E11v 94

Could I have ſuppoſed my mother would thus ſeverely have felt my abſence, I had never left England; to make her eaſier, was my only motive for that ſtep.

I with pleaſure ſacrifice my deſign of ſettling here to her peace of mind; no conſideration, however, ſhall ever make me give up that of marrying the beſt and moſt charming of women.

I could have wiſhed to have had a fortune worthy of her; this was my wiſh, not that of my Emily; ſhe will with equal pleaſure ſhare with me poverty or riches: I hope her conſent to marry me before I leave Canada. I know the advantages of affluence, my dear Temple, aund am too reaſonable to deſpiſe them; I would only avoid rating them above their worth.

Riches E12r 95

Riches undoubtedly purchaſe a variety of pleaſures which are not otherwiſe to be obtained; they give power, they give honors, they give conſequence; but if, to enjoy theſe ſubordinate goods, we muſt give up thoſe which are more eſſential, more real, more ſuited to our natures, I can never heſitate one moment to determine between them.

I know nothing fortune has to beſtow, which can equal the tranſport of being dear to the moſt amiable, moſt lovely of womankind.

The ſtream of life, my dear Temple, ſtagnates without the gentle gale of love; till I knew my Emily, till the dear moment which aſſured me of her tenderneſs, I could ſcarce be ſaid to live.

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Let- E12v 96


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Ican write, I can talk, of nothing but Emily; I never knew how much I loved her till ſhe was gone: I run eagerly to every place where we have been together; every ſpot reminds me of her; I remember a thouſand converſations, endeared by confidence and affection: a tender tear ſtarts in ſpite of me: our walks, our airings, our pleaſing little parties, all ruſh at once on my memory: I ſee the ſame lovely ſcenes around me, but they have loſt half their power of pleaſing.

I viſit every grove, every thicket, that ſhe loved; I have a redoubled fondneſs for every object in which ſhe took pleaſure.

Fitzgerald F1r 97

Fitzgerald indulges me in this enthuſiaſm of friendſhip; he leads me to every place which can recall my Emily’s idea; he ſpeaks of her with a warmth which ſhews the ſenſibility and goodneſs of his own heart; he endeavors to ſoothe me by the moſt endearing attention.

What infinite pleaſure, my dear Lucy, there is in being truly beloved! Fond as I have ever been of general admiration, that of all mankind is nothing to the leaſt mark of Fitzgerald’s tenderneſs.

Adieu! it will be ſome days before I can ſend this letter.

The governor gives a ball in honor of the day; I am dreſſing to go, but without my ſweet companion: every hour I feel more ſenſibly her abſence.

Vol. III. F We F1v 98

We had laſt night, during the ball, the moſt dreadful ſtorm I ever heard; it ſeemed to ſhake the whole habitable globe.

Heaven preſerve my Emily from its fury: I have a thouſand fears on her account.

Your brother is arrived; he has been here about an hour: he flew to Silleri, without going at all to Quebec; he enquired for Emily; he would not believe ſhe was gone.

There is no expreſſing how much he was ſhocked when convinced ſhe had taken this voyage without him; he would have followedlowed F2r 99 lowed her in an open boat, in hopes of overtaking her at Coudre, if my father had not detained him almoſt by force, and at laſt convinced him of the impoſſibility of overtaking her, as the winds, having been conſtantly fair, muſt before this have carried them out of the river.

He has ſent his ſervant to Quebec, with orders to take paſſage for him in the firſt ſhip that ſails; his impatience is not to be deſcribed.

He came down in the hope of marrying her here, and conducting her himſelf to England; he forms to himſelf a thouſand dangers to her, which he fondly fancies his preſence could have averted: in ſhort, he has all the unreaſonableneſs of a man in love.

F2 I pro- F2v 100

I propoſe ſending this, and a large packet more, by your brother, unleſs ſome nunexpected opportunity offers before.

Adieu! my dear! Yours,

A. Fermor.


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Your brother has taken his paſſage in a very fine ſhip, which will ſail the 1767-06-1010th; you may expect him every hour after you receive this; which I ſend, with what I wrote yeſterday, by a ſmall veſſel which ſails a week ſooner than was intended.

Rivers F3r 101

Rivers perſuades Fitzgerald to apply for the lands which he had fixed upon on Lake Champlain, as he has no thoughts of ever returning hither.

I will prevent this, however, if I have any influence: I cannot think with patience of continuing in America, when my two amiable friends have left it; I had no motive for wiſhing a ſettlement here, but to for ma little ſociety of friends, of which they made the principal part.

Beſides, the ſpirit of emulation would have kept up my courage, and given fire and brilliancy to my fancy.

Emily and I ſhould have been trying who had the moſt lively genius at creation; who could have produced the faireſt flowers; who have formed the woods and rocks into F3 the F3v 102 the moſt beautiful arbors, viſtoes, grottoes; have taught the ſtreams to flow in the moſt pleaſing meanders; have brought into view the greateſt number and variety of thoſe lovely little falls of water with which this fairy land abounds; and ſhewed nature in the faireſt form.

In ſhort, we ſhould have been continually endeavoring, following the luxuriancy of female imagination, to render more charming the ſweet abodes of love and friendſhip; whilſt our heroes, changing their ſwords into plough-ſhares, and engaged in more ſubſtantial, more profitable labors, were clearing land, raiſing cattle and corn, and doing every thing becoming good farmers; or, to expreſs it more poetically,

Taming the genius of the ſtubborn plain, Almoſt as quickly as they conquer’d Spain: By F4r 103

By which I would be underſtood to mean the Havannah, where, vanity apart, I am told both of them did their duty, and a little more, if a man can in ſuch a caſe be ſaid to do more.

In one word, they would have been ſtudying the uſeful, to ſupport us; we the agreable, to pleaſe and amuſe them; which I take to be aſſigning to the two ſexes the employments for which nature intended them, notwithſtanding the vile example of the ſavages to the contrary.

There are now no farmereſſes in Canada worth my contending with; therefore the whole pleaſure of the thing would be at an end, even on the ſuppoſition that friendſhip had not been the ſoul of our deſign.

F4 Say F4v 104

Say every thing for me to Temple and Mrs. Rivers; and to my deareſt Emily, if arrived.

Adieu! your faithful

A. Fermor.

Letter CLII.

To the Earl of ――.

It is very true, my Lord, that the jeſuit miſſionaries ſtill continue in the Indian villages in Canada; and I am afraid it is no leſs true, that they uſe every art to inſtill thoſe people an averſion to the Engliſh; at leaſt I have been told this by the Indians themſelves, who ſeem equally ſurprized and piqued that we do not ſend miſſionaries amongſt them.

Their F5r 105

Their ideas of chriſtianity are extremely circumſcribed, and they give no preference to one mode of our faith above another; they regard a miſſionary of any nation as a kind father, who comes to inſtruct them in the beſt way of worſhiping the Deity; whom they ſuppoſe more propitious to the Europeans than to themſelves; and as an ambaſſador from the prince whoſe ſubject he is: they therefore think it a mark of honor, and a proof of eſteem, to receive miſſionaries; and to our remiſſneſs, and the French wiſe attention on this head, is owing the extreme attachment the greater part of the ſavage nations have ever had to the latter.

The French miſſionaries, by ſtudying their language, their manners, their tempers, their diſpoſitions; by conforming to their way of life, and uſing every art to gain their eſteem, have acquired an influence over them which is ſcarce to be conceived;F5 ceived; F5v 106 ceived; nor would it be difficult for ours to do the ſame, were they judiciouſly choſe, and properly encouraged.

I believe I have ſaid, that there is a ſtriking reſemblance between the manners of the Canadians and the ſavages; I ſhould have explained it, by adding, that this reſemblance has been brought about, not by the French having won the ſavages to receive European manners, but by the very contrary; the peaſants having acquired the ſavage indolence in peace, their activity and ferocity in war; their fondneſs for field ſports, their hatred of labor; their love of a wandering life, and of liberty; in the latter of which they have been in ſome degree indulged, the laws here being much milder, and more favorable to the people, than in France.

Many of the officers alſo, and thoſe of rank in the colony troops, have been adopted F6r 107 adopted into the ſavage tribes; and there is ſtronger evidence than, for the honor of humanity, I would wiſh there was, that ſome of them have led the death dance at the execution of Engliſh captives, have even partook the horrid repaſt, and imitated them in all their cruelties; cruelties, which to the eternal diſgrace, not only of our holy religion, but even of our nature, theſe poor people, whoſe ignorance is their excuſe, have been inſtigated to, both by the French and Engliſh colonies, who, with a fury truly diabolical, have offered rewards to thoſe who brought in the ſcalps of their enemies. Rouſſeau has taken great pains to prove that the moſt uncultivated nations are the moſt virtuous: I have all due reſpect for this philoſopher, of whoſe writings I am an enthuſiaſtic admirer; but I have a ſtill greater reſpect for truth, which I believe is not in this inſtance on his ſide.

There is little reaſon to boaſt of the virtues of a people, who are ſuch brutal ſlaves F6 to F6v 108 to their appetites as to be unable to avoid drinking brandy to an exceſs ſcarce to be conceived, whenever it falls in their way, though eternally lamenting the murders and other atrocious crimes of which they are ſo perpetually guilty when under its influence.

It is unjuſt to ſay we have corrupted them, that we have taught them a vice to which we are ourſelves not addicted; both French and Engliſh are in general ſober: we have indeed given them the means of intoxication, which they had not before their intercourſe with us; but he muſt be indeed fond of praiſing them, who makes a virtue of their having been ſober, when water was the only liquor with which they were acquainted.

From all that I have obſerved, and heard of theſe people, it appears to me an undoubted fact, that the moſt civilized Indian nations F7r 109 nations are the moſt virtuous; a fact which makes directly againſt Rouſſeau’s ideal ſyſtem.

Indeed all ſyſtems make againſt, inſtead of leading to, the diſcovery of truth.

Pere Lafitau has, for this reaſon, in his very learned compariſon of the manners of the ſavages with thoſe of the firſt ages, given a very imperfect account of Indian manners; he is even ſo candid as to own, he tells you nothing but what makes for the ſyſtem he is endeavoring to eſtabliſh.

My wiſh, on the contrary, is not to make truth ſubſervient to any favorite 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 or miſinformation, but F7v 110 but will never be deſignedly warped from truth.

That the ſavages have virtues, candor muſt own; but only a love of paradox can make any man aſſert they have more than poliſhed nations.

Your Lordſhip aſks me what is the general moral character of the Canadians; they are ſimple and hoſpitable, yet extremely attentive to intereſt, where it does not interfere with that lazineſs which is their governing paſſion.

They are rather devout than virtuous; have religion without morality, and a ſenſe of honor without very ſtrict honeſty.

Indeed I believe wherever ſuperſtition reigns, the moral ſenſe is greatly weakened; the ſtrongeſt inducement to the practice of morality is removed, when people are brought F8r 111 brought to believe that a few outward ceremonies will compenſate for the want of virtue.

I myſelf heard a man, who had raiſed a large fortune by very indirect means, confeſs his life had been contrary to every precept of the Goſpel; but that he hoped the pardon of Heaven for all his ſins, as he intended to devote one of his daughters to a conventual life as an expiation.

This way of being virtuous by proxy, is certainly very eaſy and convenient to ſuch ſinners as have children to ſacrifice.

By Colonel Rivers, who leaves us in a few days, I intend myſelf the honor of addreſſing your Lordſhip again.

I have the honor to be Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

Wm. Fermor.

Let- F8v 112


To the Earl of ――.

Your Lordſhip will receive this from the hands of one of the moſt worthy and amiable men I ever knew, Colonel Rivers, whom I am particularly happy in having the honor to introduce to your Lordſhip, as I know your delicacy in the choice of friends, and that there are ſo few who have your perfect eſteem and confidence, that the acquaintaince of one who merits both, at his time of life, will be regarded, even by your Lordſhip, as an acquiſition.

’Tis to him I ſhall ſay the advantage I procure him, by making him known to a nobleman, who, with the wiſdom and experienceperience F9r 113 perience of age, has all the warmth of heart, the generoſity, the noble confidence, the enthuſiaſm, the fire, and vivacity of youth.

Your Lordſhip’s idea, in regard to Proteſtant convents here, on the footing of that we viſited together at Hamburgh, is extremely well worth the conſideration of thoſe whom it may concern; eſpecially if the Romiſh 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 to diſpoſe of thoſe who do not marry in a reaſonable time: the convenience they find in both reſpects from theſe houſes, is one ſtrong motive to them to continue in their ancient religion.

As F9v 114

As I would however prevent the more uſeful, by which I mean the lower, part of the ſex from entering into this ſtate, I would wiſh only the daughters of the ſeigneurs to have the privilege of becoming nuns: they ſhould be obliged, on taking the vow, to prove their nobleſſe for at leaſt three generations; which would ſecure them reſpect, and, at the ſame time, prevent their becoming too numerous.

They ſhould take the vow of obedience, but not of celibacy; and reſerve the power, as at Hamburgh, of going out to marry, though on no other conſideration.

Your Lordſhip may remember, every nun at Hamburgh has a right of marrying, except the abbeſs; and that, on your Lordſhip’s telling the lady who then preſided, and who was young and very handſome, you F10r 115 you thought 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 information in regard to this colony, which he is much more able to give you than I am, having viſited every part of Canada in the deſign of ſettling in it.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, &c.

Wm. Fermor.

Your Lordſhip’s mention of nuns has brought to my memory a little anecdote on this ſubject, which I will tell you. I was, a few mornings ago, viſiting a French lady, whoſe very handſome daughter, of almoſt ſixteen, told me, ſhe was going F10v 116 going into a convent. I enquired which ſhe had made choice of: ſhe ſaid, The General Hoſpital. I am glad, Mademoiſelle, you have not choſe the Urſulines; the rules are ſo very ſevere, you would have found them hard to conform to. As to rules, Sir, I have no objection to their ſeverity; but the 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 the ſincerity of her vocation, and the great propriety and humanitymanity F11r 117 manity of ſuffering young creatures to chuſe a kind of life ſo repugnant to human nature, at an age when they are ſuch excellent judges of what will make them happy.

Letter CLIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Iſend this by your brother, who ſails to-morrow.

Time, I hope, will reconcile me to his and Emily’s abſence; but at preſent I cannot think of loſing them without a dejection of mind which takes from me the very idea of pleaſure.

I can- F11v 118

I conjure you, my dear Lucy, to do every thing poſſible to facilitate their union; and remember, that to your requeſt, and to Mrs. Rivers’s tranquillity, they have ſacrificed every proſpect they had of happineſs.

I would ſay more; but my ſpirits are ſo affected, I am incapable of writing.

Love my ſweet Emily, and let her not repent the generoſity of her conduct.

Adieu! your affectionate

A. Fermor.

Let- F12r 119

Letter CLIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

My poor Rivers! I think I felt more from his going than even from Emily’s: whilſt he was here, I ſeemed not quite to have loſt her: I now feel doubly the loſs of both.

He begged me to ſhew attention to Madame Des Roches, who he aſſured me merited my tendereſt friendſhip; he wrote to her, and has left the letter open in my care: it is to thank her, in the moſt affectionate terms, for her politeneſs and friendſhip, as well to himſelf as to his Emily; and to offer her his beſt ſervices in England in regard to her eſtate, part of which ſome 4 people F12v 120 people here have very ungenerouſly applied for a grant of, on pretence of its not being all ſettled according to the original conditions.

He owned to me, he felt ſome regret at leaving this amiable woman in Canada, and at the idea of never ſeeing her more.

I love him for this ſenſibility; and for his delicate attention to one whoſe diſintereſted affection for him moſt certainly deſerves it.

Fitzgerald is below, he does all poſſible to conſole me for the loſs of my friends; but indeed, Lucy, I feel their abſence moſt ſeverely.

I have an opportunity of ſending your brother’s letter to Madame Des Roches, which I muſt not loſe, as they are not very 2 frequent: G1r 121 frequent: ’tis by a French gentleman who is now with my father.

Adieu! your faithful,

A. Fermor.

We have been talking of your brother; I have been ſaying, there is nothing I ſo much admire in him as that tenderneſs of ſoul, and almoſt female ſenſibility, which is ſo uncommon in a ſex, whoſe whole education 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 indiſcriminate ſuſpicion of mankindIII. G kind G1v 122 kind which is falſely ſo called; but that clearneſs of mental ſight, and diſcerning faculty, which can diſtinguiſh virtue as well as vice, wherever it reſides. I alſo love in him, ſaid my father, that noble ſincerity, that integrity 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 higheſt claim to virtue is the conſtitutional abſence of vice, and who never knew what it was to feel for the ſorrows of another. You miſtake, Bell: ſuch a preference was impoſſible; but ſhe was engaged to Sir George; and he had alſo a fine fortune. Now, in theſe degenerate days, my dear, people muſt eat; we have loſt all G2r 123 all taſte for the airy food of romances, when ladies rode behind their enamored knights, dined luxuriouſly on a banquet of haws, and quenched their thirſt 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, with ſuch a noble fellow as your brother, are preferable to ortolans and a coach and ſix, with ſuch a piece of ſtill life and inſipidity as Sir George. Good night! my dear Lucy.

G2 Let- G2v 124

Letter CLIVI.

To Mrs. Temple,

Ihave this moment received a packet of letters from my dear Lucy; I ſhall only ſay, in anſwer to what makes the greateſt part of them, that in a fortnight I hope you will have the pleaſure of ſeeing your brother, who did not heſitate one moment in giving up to Mrs. Rivers’s peace of mind, all his pleaſing proſpects here, and the happineſs of being united to the woman he loved.

You will not, I hope, my dear, forget his having made ſuch a ſacrifice: 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 your eſteem G3r 125 eſteem and tenderneſs, and who has loſt all the advantages of fortune, and incurred the cenſure of the world, by her diſintereſted attachment to your brother.

I am extremely ſorry, but not ſurprized, at what you tell me of poor Lady H――. I knew her intimately; ſhe was ſacrificed at eighteen, by the 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; her elegance of mind, and native probity, prevented her ſeeking it abroad; ſhe died a melancholy victim to the tyranny of her friends, the tenderneſs of her heart, and her delicate ſenſe of honor.

If her father has any of the feelings of humanity left, what muſt he not ſuffer on this occaſion?

G3 It G3v 126

It is a painful conſideration, my dear, that the happineſs or miſery of our lives are generally determined before we are proper judges of either.

Reſtrained by cuſtom, and the ridiculous prejudices of the world, we go 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 from forcing our inclinations, have not even endeavored to betray us into chuſing from ſordid motives! They have not labored to fill our young hearts with vanity or avarice; they have left us thoſe virtues, thoſe amiable qualities, we received from nature. They have painted to us the charms of friendſhip, and not taught us to value riches above their real price.

My G4r 127

My father, indeed, checks a certain exceſs of romance which there is in my temper; but, at the ſame time, he never encouraged my receiving the addreſſes of any man who had only the gifts of fortune to recommend him; he even adviſed me, when very young, againſt marrying an officer in his regiment, of a large fortune, but an unworthy character.

If I have any knowledge of the human heart, it will be my own fault if I am not happy with Fitzgerald.

I am only afraid, that when we are married, and begin to ſettle into a calm, my volatile diſpoſition will carry me back to coquetry: my paſſion for admiration is naturally ſtrong, and has been increaſed by indulgence; for without vanity I have been extremely the taſte of the men.

G4 I have G4v 128

I have a kind of an idea it won’t be long before I try the ſtrength of my reſolution, for I heard papa and Fitzgerald in high conſultation this morning.

Do you know, that, having nobody to love but Fitzgerald, I am ten times more enamored of the dear creature than ever? My love is now like the rays of the ſun collected.

He is ſo much here, I wonder I don’t grow tired of him; but ſomehow he has the art of varying himſelf beyond any man I ever knew: it was that agreable variety of character that firſt ſtruck me; I conſidered that 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 agreable caprice, which in love affairs is worth all the merit in the world.

Have G5r 129

Have you never obſerved, Lucy, that the ſame perſon is ſeldom greatly 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; finds charms 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 to me: no words can ſpeak my impatience: I am equally G5 anxious G5v 130 anxious to hear of my dear Rivers. Heaven ſend them proſperous gales!

Adieu! Your faithful

A. Fermor.

Letter CLIVII.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

You are extremely miſtaken, my dear, in your idea of the ſociety here; I had rather live at Quebec, take it for all in all, than in any town in England, except London; the manner of living here is uncommonly agreable; the ſcenes about us are lovely, and the mode of amuſements2 ments G6r 131 ments make us taſte thoſe ſcenes in full perfection.

Whilſt your brother and Emily were here, I had not a wiſh to leave Canada; but their going has left a void in my heart, which will not eaſily be filled up: I have loved Emily almoſt from childhood, and there is a pecuiliar 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’s having left the regiment in which my father ſerved.

In ſhort, every thing concurred to make us dear to each other, and therefore to give a G6 greater G6v 132 greater poignancy to the pain of parting a ſecond time.

As to your brother, I love him ſo much, that a man who had leſs candor and generoſity than Fitzgerald, would be almoſt angry at my very lively friendſhip.

I have this moment a letter from Madame Des Roches; ſhe laments the loſs of our two amiable friends; begs me to aſſure them both of her eternal remembrance: ſays, ſhe congratulates Emily on poſſeſſing the heart of the man on earth moſt worthy of being beloved; that ſhe cannot form an idea of any human felicity equal to that of the woman, the buſineſs of whoſe life it is to make Colonel Rivers happy. That, heaven having denied her that happineſs, ſhe will never marry, nor enter into an engagement which would make it criminal in her to remember him with tenderneſs: that it is, however, G7r 133 however, ſhe believes, beſt for her he has left the country, for that it is impoſſible ſhe ſhould ever have ſeen him with indifference.

It is perhaps as prudent not to mention theſe circumſtances either to your brother or Emily; I thought of ſending her letter to them, but there is a certain fire in her ſtyle, mixed with tenderneſs, when ſhe ſpeaks of Rivers, which would only have given them both regret, by making them ſee the exceſs of her affection for him; her expreſſions are much ſtronger than thoſe in which I have given you the ſenſe of them.

I intend to be very intimate with her, becauſe ſhe loves my dear Rivers; ſhe loves Emily too, at leaſt ſhe fancies ſhe does, but I am a little doubtful as to the friendſhips between rivals: at this diſtance, however, I dare ſay, they will always con- G7v 134 continue on the beſt terms poſſible, and I would have Emily write to her.

Do you know ſhe has deſired me to contrive to get her a picture of your brother, without his knowing it? I am not determined whether I ſhall indulge her in this fancy or not; if I do, I muſt employ you as my agent. It is madneſs in her to deſire it; but, as there is a pleaſure in being mad, I am not ſure my morality will let me refuſe her, ſince pleaſures are not very thick ſown in this world.

Adieu! Your affectionate

A. Fermor.

Let- G8r 135


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

By this time, my dear Lucy, I hope you are happy with your brother and my ſweet Emily: I am all impatience to know this from yourſelves; but it will be five or ſix weeks, perhaps much more, before I can have that ſatisfaction.

As to me—to be plain, my dear, I can hold no longer; I have been married this fortnight. My father wanted to keep it a ſecret, for ſome very fooliſh reaſons; but it is not in my nature; I hate ſecrets, they are only fit for politicians, and people whoſe thoughts and actions will not bear the light.

For G8v 136

For my part, I am convinced the general loquacity of human kind, and our inability to keep ſecrets without a natural kind of uneaſineſs, were meant by Providence to guard againſt our laying deep ſchemes of treachery againſt each other.

I remember a very ſenſible man, who perfectly knew the world, uſed to ſay, there was no ſuch thing in nature as a ſecret; a maxim as true, at leaſt I believe ſo, as it is ſalutary, and which I would adviſe all good mammas, aunts, and governeſſes, to impreſs ſtrongly on the minds of young ladies.

So, as I was ſaying, voilà Madame Fitzgerald!

This is, however, yet a ſecret here; but, according to my preſent doctrine, and following G9r 137 following the nature of things, it cannot long continue ſo.

You never ſaw ſo polite a huſband, but I ſuppoſe they are all ſo the firſt fortnight, eſpecially when married in ſo intereſting and romantic a manner; I am very fond of the fancy of being thus married as it were; but I have a notion I ſhall blunder it out very ſoon: we were married on a party to Three Rivers, nobody with us but papa and Madame Villiers, who have not yet publiſhed the myſtery. I hear ſome miſſes at Quebec are ſcandalous about Fitzgerald’s being ſo much here; I will leave them in doubt a little, I think, merely to gratify their love of ſcandal; every body ſhould be amuſed in their way.

Adieu! yours,

A. Fitzgerald.

Pray G9v 138

Pray let Emily be married; every body marries but poor little Emily.

Letter CLVIX.

To the Earl of ――.

Ihave the pleaſure to tell your Lordſhip I have married my daughter to a gentleman with whom I have reaſon to hope ſhe will be happy.

He is the ſecond ſon of an Iriſh baronet of good fortune, and has himſelf about five hundred pounds a year, independent of his commiſſion; he is a man of an excellent ſenſe, and of honor, and has a very lively tenderneſs for my daughter.

It G10r 139

It will, I am afraid, be ſome time before I can leave this country, as I chuſe to take my daughter and Mr. Fitzgerald with me, in order to the latter’s ſoliciting a majority, in which purſuit I ſhall without ſcruple tax your Lordſhip’s friendſhip to the utmoſt.

I am extremely happy at this event, as Bell’s volatile temper made me ſometimes afraid of her chuſing inconſiderately: their marriage is not yet declared, for ſome family reaſons, not worth particularizing to your Lordſhip.

As ſoon as leave of abſence comes from New York, for me and Mr. Fitzgerald, we ſhall ſettle things for taking leave of Canada, which I however aſſure your Lordſhip I ſhall do with ſome reluctance.

The G10v 140

The climate is all the year agreable and healthy, in ſummer divine; a man at my time of life cannot leave this chearing, enlivening ſun without reluctance; the heat is very like that of Italy or the South of France, without the oppreſſive cloſeneſs which generally attends our hot weather in England.

The manner of life here is chearful; we make the moſt of our fine ſummers, by the pleaſanteſt country parties you can imagine. Here are ſome very eſtimable perſons, and the ſpirit of urbanity begins to diffuſe itſelf from the centre: in ſhort, I ſhall leave Canada at the very time when one would wiſh to come to it.

It is aſtoniſhing, in a ſmall community like this, how much depends on the perſonal character of him who governs.

I am G11r 141

I am obliged to break off abruptly, the perſon who takes this to England being going immediately on board.

I have the honor to be, My Lord, Your Lordſhip’s, &c.

Wm. Fermor.

Letter CLVIX.

To John Temple, Eſq; Pall Mall.

Iagree with you, my dear Temple, that nothing can be more pleaſing than an awakened Engliſh woman; of which you and my caro ſpoſo have, I flatter myſelf, the 1 happy G11v 142 happy experience; and wiſh with you that the character was more common: but I muſt own, and I am ſorry to own it, that my fair countrywomen and fellow citizens (I ſpeak of the nation in general, and not of the capital) have an unbecoming kind of reſerve, which prevents their being the agreable companions, and amiable wives, which nature meant them.

From a fear, and I think a prudiſh one, of being thought too attentive to pleaſe your ſex, they have acquired a certain diſtant manner to men, which borders on ill- breeding: they take great pains to veil, under an affected appearance of diſdain, that winning ſenſibility of heart, that delicate tenderneſs, which renders them doubly lovely.

They are even afraid to own their friendſhips, if not according to the ſquare and rule; are doubtful whether a modeſt woman may G12r 143 may own ſhe loves even her huſband; and ſeem to think affections were given them for no purpoſe but to hide.

Upon the whole, with at leaſt as good a native right to charm as any woman on the face of the globe, the Engliſh have found the happy ſecret of pleaſing leſs.

Is my Emily arrived? I can ſay nothing elſe.

I am the happieſt woman in the creation: papa has juſt told me, we are to go home in ſix or ſeven weeks.

Not but this is a divine country, and our farm a terreſtrial paradiſe; but we have lived in it almoſt a year, and one grows tired of every thing in time, you know, Temple.

I ſhall G12v 144

I ſhall ſee my Emily, and flirt with Rivers; to ſay nothing of you and my little Lucy.

Adieu! I am grown very lazy ſince I married; for the future, I ſhall make Fitzgerald write all my letters, except billetdoux, in which I think I excel him.


A. Fitzgerald.


To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Iam this moment arrived, my dear Bell, after a very agreable paſſage, and am ſetting out immediately for London, from whence I ſhall write to you the moment I have H1r 145 have ſeen Mrs. Rivers; I will own to you I tremble at the idea of this interview, yet am reſolved to ſee her, and open all my ſoul to her in regard to her ſon; after which, I ſhall leave her the miſtreſs of my deſtiny; for, ardently as I love him, I will never marry him but with her approbation.

I have a thouſand anxious fears for my Rivers’s ſafety: may heaven protect him from the dangers his Emily has eſcaped!

I have but a moment to write, a ſhip being under way which is bound to Quebec; a gentleman, who is juſt going off in a boat to the ſhip, takes the care of this.

May every happineſs attend my dear girl. Say every thing affectionate for me to Captain Fermor and Mr. Fitzgerald.

Adieu! Yours,

Emily Montague.

Vol. III. H Let- H1v 146


To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Igot to town laſt night, my dear, and am at a friend’s, from whence I have this morning ſent to Mrs. Rivers; I every moment expect her anſwer; my anxiety of mind is not to be expreſſed; my heart ſinks; I almoſt dread the return of my meſſenger.

If the affections, my dear friend, give us the higheſt happineſs of which we are capable, they are alſo the ſource of our keeneſt miſery; what I feel at this inſtant, is not to be deſcribed: I have been near reſolving to go into the country without ſeeing or ſending to Mrs. Rivers. If ſhe ſhould receive me with coldneſs—why ſhould H2r 147 ſhould I have expoſed myſelf to the chance of ſuch a reception? It would have been better to have waited for Rivers’s arrival; I have been too precipitate; my warmth of temper has miſled me: what had I to do to ſeek his family? I would give the world to retract my meſſage, though it was only to let her know I was arrived; that her ſon was well, and that ſhe might every hour expect him in England.

There is a rap at the door: I tremble I know not why; the ſervant comes up, he announces Mr. and Mrs. Temple: my heart beats, they are at the door.

They are gone, and return for me in an hour; they inſiſt on my dining with them, and tell me Mrs. Rivers is impatient to ſee me. Nothing was ever ſo polite, ſo delicate, ſo affectionate, as the behaviour of both; they ſaw my confuſion, and did H2 every H2v 148 every thing to remove it: they enquired after Rivers, but without the leaſt hint of the dear intereſt I take in him: they ſpoke of the happineſs of knowing me: they aſked my friendſhip, in a manner the moſt flattering that can be imagined. How ſtrongly does Mrs. Temple, my dear, reſemble her amiable brother! her eyes have the ſame ſenſibility, the ſame pleaſing expreſſion; I think I ſcarce ever ſaw ſo charming a woman; I love her already; I feel a tenderneſs for her, which is inconceivable; I caught myſelf two or three times looking at her, with an attention for which I bluſhed.

How dear to me is every friend of my Rivers!

I believe, there was ſomething very fooliſh in my behaviour; but they had the good-breeding and humanity not to ſeem to obſerve it.

I had H3r 149

I had almoſt forgot to tell you, they ſaid every thing obliging and affectionate of you and Captain Fermor.

My mind is in a ſtate not to be deſcribed; I feel joy, I feel anxiety, I feel doubt, I feel a timidity I cannot conquer, at the thought of ſeeing Mrs. Rivers.

I have to dreſs; therefore muſt finiſh this when I return.

I am come back, my deareſt Bell; I have gone through the ſcene I ſo much dreaded, and am aſtoniſhed I ſhould ever think of it but with pleaſure. How much did I injure this moſt amiable of women! Her reception of me was that of a tender parent, who had found a long-loſt child; ſhe kiſſed me, ſhe preſſed me to her boſom; her tears flowed in abundance; ſhe H3 called H3v 150 called me her daughter, her other Lucy: ſhe aſked me a thouſand queſtions of her ſon; ſhe would know all that concerned him, however minute: how he looked, whether he talked much of her, what were his amuſements; whether he was as handſome as when he left England.

I anſwered her with ſome heſitation, but with a pleaſure that animated my whole ſoul; I believe, I never appeared to ſuch advantage as this day.

You will not aſcribe it to an unmeaning vanity, when I tell you, I never took ſuch pains to pleaſe; I even gave a particular attention to my dreſs, that I might, as much as poſſible, juſtify my Rivers’s tenderneſs: I never was vain for myſelf; but I am ſo for him: I am indifferent to admiration as Emily Montague; but as the object of his love, I would be admired by all the H4r 151 the world; I wiſh to be the firſt of my ſex in all that is amiable and lovely, that I might make a ſacrifice worthy of my Rivers, in ſhewing to all his friends, that he only can inſpire me with tenderneſs, that I live for him alone.

Mrs. Rivers preſſed me extremely to paſs a month with her: my heart yielded too eaſily to her requeſt; but I had courage to reſiſt my own wiſhes, as well as her ſolicitations; and ſhall ſet out in three days for Berkſhire: I have, however, promiſed to go with them to-morrow, on a party to Richmond, which Mr. Temple was ſo obliging as to propoſe on my account.

Late as the ſeaſon is, there is one more ſhip going to Quebec, which ſails to-morrow.

H4 You H4v 152

You ſhall hear from me again in a few days by the packet.

Adieu! my deareſt friend! Your faithful

Emily Montague.

Surely it will not be long before Rivers arrives; you, my dear Bell, will judge what muſt be my anxiety till that moment.


To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

Iam arrived, my dear friend, after a paſſage agreable in itſelf; but which my fears for Emily made infinitely anxious and painful: every wind that blew, I trembled for her; I formed to myſelf H5r 153 myſelf ideal dangers on her account, which reaſon had not power to diſſipate.

We had a very tumultuous head-ſea a great part of the voyage, though the wind was fair; a certain ſign there had been ſtormy weather, with a contrary wind. I fancied my Emily expoſed to thoſe ſtorms; there is no expreſſing what I ſuffered from this circumſtance.

On entering the channel of England, we ſaw an empty boat, and ſome pieces of a wreck floating; I fancied it part of the ſhip which conveyed my lovely Emily; a ſudden chillneſs ſeized my whole frame, my heart died within me at the ſight: I had ſcarce courage, when I landed, to enquire whether ſhe was arrived.

I aſked the queſtion with a trembling voice, and had the tranſport to find the ſhip had paſſed by, and to hear the perſon H5 of H5v 154 of my Emily deſcribed amongſt the paſſengers who landed; it was not eaſy to miſtake her.

I hope to ſee her this evening: what do I not feel from that dear hope!

Chance gives me an opportunity of forwarding this by New York; I write whilſt my chaiſe is getting ready.

Adieu! yours,

Ed. Rivers.

I ſhall write to my dear little Bell as ſoon as I get to town. There is no deſcribing what I felt at firſt ſeeing the coaſt of England: I ſaw the white cliffs with a tranſport mixed with veneration; a tranſport, which, however, was checked by my fears for the dearer part of myſelf. My H6r 155 My chaiſe is at the door. Adieu! Your faithful, &c. Ed. Rivers.

Letter CLXIV.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Iam obliged to wait ten minutes for a Canadian gentleman who is with me, and has ſome letters to deliver here: how painful is this delay! But I cannot leave a ſtranger alone on the road, though I loſe ſo many minutes with my charming Emily.

H6 To H6v 156

To ſoften this moment as much as poſſible, I will begin a letter to my dear Bell: our ſweet Emily is ſafe; I wrote to Captain Fermor this morning.

My heart is gay beyond words: my fellow-traveller is aſtoniſhed at the beauty and riches of England, from what he has ſeen of Kent: for my part, I point out every fine proſpect, and am ſo proud of my country, that my whole ſoul ſeems to be dilated; for which perhaps there are other reaſons. The day is fine, the numerous herds and flocks on the ſide of the hills, the neatneſs of the houſes, of the people, the appearance of plenty; all exhibit a ſcene which muſt ſtrike one who has been uſed only to the wild graces of nature.

Canada H7r 157

Canada has beauties; but they are of another kind.

This unreaſonable man; he has no miſtreſs to ſee in London; he is not expected by the moſt amiable of mothers, by a family he loves as I do mine.

I will order another chaiſe, and leave my ſervant to attend him.

He comes. Adieu! my dear little Bell! at this moment a gentleman is come into the inn, who is going to embark at Dover for New York; I will ſend this by him. Once more adieu!

Let- H7v 158

Letter CLXIV.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Iam the only perſon here, my dear Bell, enough compoſed to tell you Rivers is arrived in town. He ſtopped in his poſt chaiſe, at the end of the ſtreet, and ſent for me, that I might prepare my mother to ſee him, and prevent a ſurprize which might have hurried her ſpirits too much.

I came back, and told her I had ſeen a gentleman, who had left him at Dover, and that he would ſoon be here; he followed me in a few minutes.

I am not painter enough to deſcribe their meeting; though prepared, it was with difficulty H8r 159 difficulty we kept my mother from fainting; ſhe preſſed him in her arms, ſhe attempted to ſpeak, her voice faltered, tears ſtole ſoftly down her cheeks: nor was Rivers leſs affected, though in a different manner; I never ſaw him look ſo handſome; the manly tenderneſs, the filial reſpect, the lively joy, that were expreſſed in his countenance, gave him a look to which it is impoſſible to do juſtice: he hinted going down to Berkſhire tonight; but my mother ſeemed ſo hurt at the propoſal, that he wrote to Emily, and told her his reaſon for deferring it till tomorrow, when we are all to go in my coach, and hope to bring her back with us to town.

You judge rightly, my dear Bell, that they were formed for each other; never were two minds ſo ſimilar; we muſt contrive ſome method of making them happy: nothing but a too great delicacy in H8v 160 in Rivers prevents their being ſo to-morrow; were our ſituations changed, I ſhould not heſitate a moment to let him make me ſo.

Lucy has ſent for me. Adieu!

Believe me, Your faithful and devoted,

J. Temple.

Letter CLXIVI.

To Miſs Fermor, at Silleri.

Iam the happieſt of human beings: my Rivers is arrived, he is well, he loves me; I am dear to his family; I ſee 4 him H9r 161 him withonut reſtraint; I am every hour more convinced of the exceſs of his affection; his attention to me is inconceivable; his eyes every moment tell me, I am dearer to him than life.

I am to be for ſome time on a viſit to his ſiſter; he is at Mrs. Rivers’s, but we are always together: we go down next week to Mr. Temple’s, in Rutland; they only ſtayed in town, expecting Rivers’s arrival. His ſeat is within ſix miles of Rivers’s little paternal eſtate, which he ſettled on his mother when he left England; ſhe preſſes him to reſume it, but he peremptorily refuſes: he inſiſts on her continuing her houſe in town, and being perfectly independent, and miſtreſs of herſelf.

I love him a thouſand times more for this tenderneſs to her; though it diſappoints my dear hope of being his. Did I think H9v 162 think is poſſible, my dear Bell, he could have riſen higher in my eſteem?

If we are never united, if we always live as at preſent, his tenderneſs will ſtill make the delight of my life; to ſee him, to hear that voice, to be his friend, the confidante of all his purpoſes, of all his deſigns, to hear the ſentiments of that generous, that exalted ſoul—I would not give up this delight, to be empreſs of the world.

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

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

The ſenſual and the cold will equally condemn my affection as romantic: few minds, H10r 163 minds, my dear Bell, are capable of love; they feel paſſion, they feel eſteem; they even feel that mixture of both which is the beſt counterfeit of love; but of that vivifying fire, that lively tenderneſs which hurries us out of ourſelves, they know nothing; that tenderneſs which makes us forget ourſelves, when the intereſt, the happineſs, the honor, of him we love is concerned; that tenderneſs which 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 the impertinence of a tender heart.

I hope you have by this time made Fitzgerald happy; he deſerves you, amiable as H10v 164 as you are, and you cannot too ſoon convince him of your affection: you ſometimes play cruelly with his tenderneſs: I have been aſtoniſhed to ſee you torment a heart which adores you.

I am interrupted.

Adieu! my dear Bell. Your affectionate

Emily Montague.


To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

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

I cannot H11r 165

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

His politeneſs, his learning, his knowledge of the world, however amiable, are in character at his ſeaſon of life; but his vivacity is aſtoniſhing.

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

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

We H11v 166

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

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.


To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

Ienjoy, my dear friend, in one of the pleaſanteſt houſes, and moſt agreable ſituations imaginable, the ſociety of the four perſons in the world moſt dear to me; I am in all reſpects as much at home as if maſter of the family, without the cares 3 attending H12r 167 attending that ſtation; my wiſhes, my deſires, are prevented by Temple’s attention and friendſhip, and my mother and ſiſter’s amiable anxiety to oblige me; I find an unſpeakable ſoftneſs in ſeeing my lovely Emily every moment, in ſeeing her adored by my family, in ſeeing her without reſtraint, in being in the ſame houſe, in living in that eaſy converſe which is born from friendſhip 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 Emily mine; and the difficulties, which I ſee on every ſide ariſing, embitter hours which would otherwiſe be exquiſitely happy.

The narrowneſs of my fortune, which I ſee in a much ſtronger light in this land of luxury, and the apparent impoſſibility of H12v 168 of placing the moſt charming of women in the ſtation my heart wiſhes, give me anxieties which my reaſon cannot conquer.

I cannot live without her, I flatter myſelf our union is in ſome degree neceſſary to her happineſs; yet I dread bringing her into diſtreſſes, which I am doubly obliged to protect her from, becauſe ſhe would with tranſport meet them all, from tenderneſs to me.

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

Temple I1r 169

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

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 a private party of our own, and nobody is in the ſecret; I will there talk over every thing with her.

My mind is at preſent in a ſtate of confuſion not to be expreſſed; I muſt determine on ſomething; it is improper Emily ſhould continue long with my ſiſter in her preſent ſituation; yet I cannot live without ſeeing her.

I have never aſked about Emily’s fortune; but I know it is a ſmall one; perhaps Vol. III. I two I1v 170 two thouſand pounds; I am pretty certain, not more.

We can live on little, but we muſt live in ſome degree on a genteel footing: I cannot let Emily, who refuſed a coach and ſix for me, pay viſits on foot; I will be content with a poſt-chaiſe, but cannot with leſs; 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 to Canada: I could then reconcile my duty and happineſs, which at preſent ſeem almoſt incompatible.

Emily appears perfectly happy, and to look no further than to the ſituation in which we now are; ſhe ſeems content with being my friend only, without thinking of a nearer connexion; I am rather piqued at a compoſure which has the air of indifference:4 ference; I2r 171 ference: why ſhould not her impatience equal mine?

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

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

Adieu! Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

I2 Let- I2v 172

Letter CLXVIX.

To Captain Fermor, at Silleri.

Ihave been taking an exact ſurvey of the houſe and eſtate with my mother, in order to determine on ſome future plan of life.

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

I felt, to borrow a very pathetic expreſſion of Thomſon’s, on I3r 173 A thouſand little tenderneſſes throb, on reviſiting thoſe dear ſcenes of infant happineſs; which were increaſed 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 moſt people would think too large for the eſtate, even had I a right to call it all my own; this is, however, a fault, if it is one, which I can eaſily 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 has tenderneſs enough for me to live with me in a houſe, the furniture of which is not perfectly in taſte.

I3 In I3v 174

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 only preſent conſideration is, on what we are to live: a conſideration, however, which as lovers, I believe in ſtrictneſs we ought to be much above!

My mother again ſolicits me to reſume this eſtate; and has propoſed my making over to her my half-pay inſtead of it, though of much leſs value, 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 never to ſuffer her to give up; becauſe ſhe loves London; and becauſe I inſiſt on her having her own houſe to go to, if ſhe ſhould ever chance to be diſpleaſed with ours.

I am I4r 175

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

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

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

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

I4 We I4v 176

We have no Chaudieres, no Montmorencis, none of thoſe magnificent ſcenes on which the Canadians have a right to pride themſelves; but we excel them in the lovely, the ſmiling; in enameled meadows, in waving corn-fields, in gardens the boaſt of Europe; in every elegant art which adorns and ſoftens human life; in all the riches and beauty which cultivation 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 flatter myſelf, live with decency, in retirement; and, in my opinion, there are 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 I5r 177 who will never 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 to encourage hope.

All here are perfectly yours.

Adieu! my dear friend, Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

I5 Let- I5v 178

Letter CLXVIX.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

The leave of abſence for my father and Fitzgerald being come ſome weeks ſooner than we expected, we propoſe leaving Canada in five or ſix days.

I am delighted with the idea of reviſiting dear England, and ſeeing friends whom I ſo tenderly love: yet I feel a regret, which I had no idea I ſhould have felt, at leaving the ſcenes of a thouſand paſt pleaſures; the murmuring rivulets to which Emily and I have ſat liſtening, the ſweet woods where I have walked with my little circle of friends: I have even a ſtrong attachment to the ſcenes themſelves, which are infinitely lovely, and ſpeak the inimitable I6r 179 inimitable hand of nature which formed them: I want to tranſport the fairy ground to England.

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

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

I am juſt come from the generals’ aſſembly; where, I ſhould have told you, I was this day fortnight announced Madame Fitzgerald, to the great mortification of two or three cats, who had very ſagaciouſly determined, that Fitzgerald had too much underſtanding ever to think of ſuch a flirting, coquetiſh creature as a wife.

I6 I was I6v 180

I was grave at the aſſembly to-night, in ſpite of all the pains I took 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-night been indifferent to me.

There is ſomething affecting in the idea of the laſt time of ſeeing even thoſe perſons or places, for which we have no particular affection.

I go to-morrow to take leave of the nuns, at the Urſuline convent; I ſuppoſe I ſhall carry this melancholy idea with me there, and be hurt at ſeeing them too for the laſt time.

I pay viſits every day amongſt the peaſants, who are very fond of me. I talk to them of their farms, give money to their 3 children, I7r 181 children, and teach their wives to be good huſwives: I am the idol of the country people five miles round, who declare me the moſt amiable, moſt generous woman 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.

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 in England almoſt as ſoon as this.

Good morrow! Yours ever, &c.

A. Fitzgerald.

I am I7v 182

I am juſt come from viſiting the nuns; they expreſſed great concern at my leaving Canada, and promiſed me their prayers on my voyage; for which proof of affection, though a good proteſtant, I thanked them very ſincerely.

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

I was not leſs pleaſed with the affection the late ſuperior, my good old countrywoman, expreſſed for me, and her regret at ſeeing me for the laſt time.

Surely there is no pleaſure on earth equal to that of being beloved! I did not think I8r 183 think I had been ſuch a favorite in Canada: it is almoſt a pity to leave it; perhaps nobody may love me in England.

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

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


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

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

I am I8v 184

I am juſt come from Montmorenci, where I have been paying my deovotions to the tutelary deities of the place for the laſt time.

I had only Fitzgerald with me; we viſited every grotto on the lovely banks, where we dined; kiſſed every flower, raiſed a votive altar on the 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; a ſolemnity which Deepen’d the murmur of the falling floods,And breath’d a browner horror on the woods.

I have I9r 185

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 obliging to come thus far to ſee me.

We go on board at one; Madame Des Roches goes down with us as far as her eſtate, where her boat is to fetch her on ſhore. She has made me a preſent of a pair of extreme pretty bracelets; has ſent your brother an elegant 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 her to England: I proteſt I am half inclined; it is pity ſuch a woman ſhould be hid all her life in the woods of Canada: beſides, one might convert I9v 186 convert her you know; and, on a religious principle, a little deviation 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 her ſoul.

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

Let- I10r 187


To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

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

There is a French lady on board, whoſe ſuperſtition bids fair to amuſe us; ſhe has thrown half her little ornaments overboard for a wind, and has promiſed I know not how many votive offerings of the ſame kind to St. Joſeph, the patron of Canada, if we get ſafe to land; on which I ſhall only obſerve, that there is nothing ſo I10v 188 ſo like ancient abſurdity as modern: ſhe has claſſical authority for this manner of playing the fool. Horace, when afraid on a voyage, having, if my memory quotes fair, vowed His dank and dropping weedsTo the ſtern god of ſea.

The boat is ready, and Madame Des Roches going; I am very unwilling to part with her; and her preſent concern at leaving me would be very flattering, if I did not think the remembrance of your brother had the greateſt 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 a meer complimentary kind of card, only thanking him for his offers of ſervice; yet I ſee it gives her pleaſure to write even this, however cold and formal; becauſe I11r 189 becauſe addreſſed to him: ſhe aſked me, if I thought there was any impropriety in her writing to him, and whether it would not be better to addreſs herſelf to Emily. I ſmiled at her ſimplicity, and ſhe finiſhed her letter; ſhe bluſhed and looked down when ſhe gave it me.

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

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

There are exceptions, however, to all rules; and your little Bell ſeems, in point of I11v 190 of love, to have changed countries with Madame Des Roches.

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

Adieu! ma chere Madame Des Roches. I embrace her; I feel the force of its being for the laſt time. I am afraid ſhe feels it yet more ſtrongly than I do: in parting with the laſt of his friends, ſhe ſeems to part with her Rivers for ever.

One look more at the wild graces of nature I leave behind.

Adieu! Canada! adieu! ſweet abode of the wood-nymphs! never ſhall I ceaſe to remember with delight the place where I have paſſed ſo many happy hours.

Heaven I12r 191

Heaven preſerve my dear Lucy, and give proſperous gales to her friends!

Your faithful

A. Fitzgerald.


To Miſs Montague.

You are little obliged to me, my dear, for writing to you on ſhip-board; one of the greateſt miſeries here, being the want of employment: I therefore write for my own amuſement, not yours.

We have ſome French ladies on board, but they do not reſemble Madame Des Roches. I12v 192 Roches. I am weary of them already, though we have been ſo few days together.

The wind is contrary, and we are at anchor under this iſland; Fitzgerald has propoſed going to dine on ſhore: it looks exceſſively pretty from the ſhip.

We returned from Bic, after paſſing a very agreable day.

We dined on the graſs, at a little diſtance from the ſhore, under the ſhelter of a very fine wood, whoſe form, the trees riſing above each other in the ſame regular confuſion, brought the dear ſhades of Silleri to our remembrance.

We walked after dinner, and picked rasberries, in the wood; and in our ramble came unexpectedly to the middle of a viſto, K1r 193 viſto, which, whilſt ſome ſhips of war lay here, the ſailors had cut through the iſland.

From this ſituation, being a riſing ground, we could ſee directly through the avenue to both ſhores: the view of each was wildly majeſtic; the river comes finely in, whichever way you turn your ſight; but to the ſouth, which is more ſheltered, the water juſt trembling to the breeze, our ſhip which had put all her ſtreamers out, and to which the tide gave a gentle motion, with a few ſcattered houſes, faintly ſeen amongſt the trees at a diſtance, terminated the proſpect, in a manner which was inchanting.

I die to build a houſe on this iſland; it is pity ſuch a ſweet ſpot ſhould be uninhabited: I ſhould like exceſſively to be Queen of Bic.

Vol. III. K Fitz- K1v 194

Fitzgerald has carved my name on a maple, near the ſhore; a pretty piece of gallantry in a huſband, you will allow: perhaps he means it as taking poſſeſſion for me of the iſland.

We are going to cards. Adieu! for the preſent.

’Tis one of the lovelieſt days I ever ſaw: we are fiſhing under the Magdalen iſlands; the weather is perfectly calm, the ſea juſt dimpled, the ſun-beams dance on the waves, the fiſh are playing on the ſurface of the water: the iſland is at a proper diſtance to form an agreable point of view; and upon the whole the ſcene is divine.

There is one houſe on the iſland, which, at a diſtance, ſeems ſo beautifully ſituated, that K2r 195 that I have loſt all deſire of fixing at Bic: I want to land, and go to the houſe for milk, but there is no good landing place on this ſide; the iſland ſeems here to be fenced in by a regular wall of rock.

A breeze ſprings up; our fiſhing is at an end for the preſent: I am afraid we ſhall not paſs many days ſo agreably as we have done this. I feel horror at the idea of ſo ſoon loſing ſight of land, and launching on the vaſt Atlantic.

Adieu! yours,

A. Fitzgerald.

K2 Let- K2v 196

Letter CLXXIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.


We have juſt fallen in with a ſhip from New York to London, and, as it is a calm, the maſter of it is come on board; whilſt he is drinking a bottle of very fine madeira, which Fitzgerald has tempted him with on purpoſe to give me this opportunity, as it is poſſible he may arrive firſt, I will write a line, to tell my dear Lucy we are all well, and hope ſoon to have the happineſs of telling her ſo in perſon; I alſo ſend what I ſcribbled before we loſt ſight of land; for I have had no ſpirits to write or do any thing ſince.

There is inexpreſſible pleaſure in meeting a ſhip at ſea, and renewing our commercemerce K3r 197 merce with the human kind, after having been ſo abſolutely ſeparated from them. I feel ſtrongly at this moment the inconſtancy of the ſpecies: we naturally grow tired of the company on board our own ſhip, and fancy the people in every one we meet more agreable.

For my part, this ſpirit is ſo powerful in me, that I would gladly, if I could have prevailed on my father and Fitzgerald, have gone on board with this man, and purſued our voyage in the New York ſhip. I have felt the ſame thing on land in a coach, on ſeeing another paſs.

We have had a very unpleaſant paſſage hitherto, and weather to fright a better ſailor than your friend: it is to me aſtoniſhing, that there are men found, and thoſe men of fortune too, who can fix on a ſea life as a profeſſion.

K3 How K3v 198

How ſtrong muſt be the love of gain, to tempt us to embrace a life of danger, pain, and miſery; to give up all the beauties of nature and of art, all the charms of ſociety, and ſeparate ourſelves from mankind, to amaſs wealth, which the very profeſſion takes away all poſſibility of enjoying!

Even glory is a poor reward for a life paſſed at ſea.

I had rather be a peaſant on a ſunny bank, with peace, ſafety, obſcurity, bread, and a little garden of roſes, than lord high admiral of the Britiſh fleet.

Setting aſide the variety of dangers at ſea, the time paſſed there is a total ſuſpenſion of one’s exiſtence: I ſpeak of the beſt part of our time there, for at leaſt a third of every voyage is poſitive miſery.

I abhor K4r 199

I abhor the ſea, and am peeviſh with every creature about me.

If there were no other evil attending this vile life, only think of being cooped up weeks together in ſuch a ſpace, and with the ſame eternal ſet of people.

If cards had not a little relieved me, I ſhould have died of meer vexation before I had finiſhed half the voyage.

What would I not give to ſee the dear white cliffs of Albion!

Adieu! I have not time to ſay more.

Your affectionate

A. Fitzgerald.

K4 Let- K4v 200

Letter CLXXIV.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

We are this inſtant landed, my dear, and ſhall be in town to-morrow.

My father ſtops one day on the road, to introduce Mr. Fitzgerald to a relation of ours, who lives a few miles from Canterbury.

I am wild with joy at ſetting foot once more on dry land.

I am not leſs happy to have traced your brother and Emily, by my enquiries here, for we left Quebec too ſoon to have advice there of their arrival.

Adieu! K5r 201

Adieu! If in town, you ſhall ſee us the moment we get there; if in the country, write immediately, to the care of the agent.

Let me know where to find Emily, whom I die to ſee: is ſhe ſtill Emily Montague?

Adieu! Your affectionate

A. Fitzgerald.

K5 Let- K5v 202


To Mrs. Fitzgerald.

Your letter, my dear Bell, was ſent by this poſt to the country.

It is unneceſſary to tell you the pleaſure it gives us all to hear of your ſafe arrival.

All our argoſies have now landed their treaſures: you will believe us to have been more anxious about friends ſo dear to us, than the merchant for his gold and ſpices; we have ſuffered the greater anxiety, by the circumſtance of your having returned at different times.

I flatter K6r 203

I flatter myſelf, the future will pay us for the paſt.

You may now, my dear Bell, revive your coterie, with the addition of ſome friends who love you very ſincerely.

Emily (ſtill Emily Montague) is with a relation in Berkſhire, ſettling ſome affairs previous to her marriage with my brother, to which we flatter ourſelves there will be no further objections.

I aſſure you, I begin to be a little jealous of this Emily of yours; ſhe rivals me extremely with my mother, and indeed with every body elſe.

We all come to town next week, when you will make us very unhappy if you do not become one of our family in Pall K6 Mall, K6v 204 Mall, and return with us for a few months to the country.

My brother is at his little eſtate, ſix miles from hence, where he is making ſome alterations, for the reception of Emily; he is ſitting up her apartment in a ſtyle equally ſimple and elegant, which, however, you muſt not tell her, becauſe ſhe is to be ſurprized: her dreſſing room, and a little adjoining cloſet of books, will be enchanting; yet the expence of all he has done is a mere trifle.

I am the only perſon in the ſecret; and have been with him this morning to ſee it: there is a gay, ſmiling air in the whole apartment, which pleaſes me infinitely; you will ſuppoſe he does not forget jars of flowers, becauſe you know how much they are Emily’s taſte: he has forgot no ornament which he knew was agreable to her.

Happily K7r 205

Happily for his fortune, her pleaſures are not of the expenſive kind; he would ruin himſelf if they were.

He has beſpoke a very handſome poſt chaiſe, which is alſo a ſecret to Emily, who inſiſts on not having one.

Their income will be about five hundred pounds a year: it is not much; yet, with their diſpoſitions, I think it will make them happy.

My brother will write to Mr. Fitzgerald next poſt: ſay every thing affectionate for us all to him and Captain Fermor.

Adieu! Yours,

Lucy Temple.

Let- K7v 206


To Captain Fitzgerald.

Icongratulate you, my dear friend, on your ſafe arrival, and on your marriage.

You have got the ſtart of me in happineſs; I love you, however, too ſincerely to envy you.

Emily has promiſed me her hand, as ſoon as ſome little family affairs are ſettled, which I flatter myſelf will not take above another week.

When ſhe gave me this promiſe, ſhe begged me to allow her to return to Berkſhireſhire K8r 207 ſhire till our marriage took place; I felt the propriety of this ſtep, and therefore would not oppoſe it: ſhe pleaded having ſome buſineſs alſo to ſettle with her relation there.

My mother has given back the deed of ſettlement of my eſtate, and accepted of an aſſignment on my half pay: ſhe is greatly a loſer; but ſhe inſiſted on making me happy, with ſuch an air of tenderneſs, that I could not deny her that ſatſifaction.

I ſhall keep ſome land in my own hands, and farm; which will enable me to have a poſt chaiſe for Emily, and my mother, who will be a good deal with us; and a conſtant decent table for a friend.

Emily is to ſuperintend the dairy and garden; ſhe has a paſſion for flowers, with which I am extremely pleaſed, as it will be to her a continual ſource of pleaſure.

I feel K8v 208

I feel ſuch delight in the idea of making her happy, that I think nothing a trifle which can be in the leaſt degree pleaſing to her.

I could even wiſh to invent new pleaſures for her gratification.

I hope to be happy; and to make the lovelieſt of womankind ſo, becauſe my notions of the ſtate, into which I am entering, are I hope juſt, and free from that romantic turn ſo deſtructive to happineſs.

I have, once in my life, had an attachment nearly reſembling marriage, to a widow of rank, with whom I was acquainted abroad; and with whom I almoſt ſecluded myſelf from the world near a twelvemonth, when ſhe died of a fever, a ſtroke I was long before I recovered.

I loved K9r 209

I loved her with tenderneſs; but that love, compared to what I feel for Emily, was as a grain of ſand to the globe of earth, or the weight of a feather to the univerſe.

A marriage where not only eſteem, but paſſion is kept awake, is, I am convinced, the moſt perfect ſtate of ſublunary happineſs: but it requires great care to keep this tender plant alive; eſpecially, I bluſh to ſay it, on our ſide.

Women are naturally more conſtant, education improves this happy diſpoſition: the huſband who has the politeneſs, the attention, and delicacy of a lover, will always be beloved.

The ſame is generally, but not always, true on the other ſide: I have ſometimes 3 ſeen K9v 210 ſeen the moſt amiable, the moſt delicate of the ſex, fail in keeping the affection of their husbands.

I am well aware, my friend, that we are not to expect here a life of continual rapture; in the happieſt marriage there is danger of ſome languid moments: to avoid theſe, ſhall be my ſtudy; and I am certain they are to be avoided.

The inebriation, the tumult of paſſion, will undoubtedly grow leſs after marriage, that is, after peaceable poſſeſſion; hopes and fears alone keep it in its firſt violent ſtate: but, though it ſubſides, it gives place to a tenderneſs ſtill more pleaſing, to a ſoft, and, if you will allow the expreſſion, a voluptuous tranquillity: the pleaſure does not ceaſe, does not even leſſen; it only changes its nature.

My K10r 211

My ſiſter tells me, ſhe flatters herſelf, you will give a few months to hers and Mr. Temple’s friendſhip; I will not give up the claim I have to the ſame favor.

My little farm will induce only friends to viſit us; and it is not leſs pleaſing to me for that circumſtance: one of the miſfortunes of a very exalted ſtation, is the ſlavery it ſubjects us to in regard to the ceremonial world.

Upon the whole, I believe, the moſt agreable, as well as the moſt free of all ſituations, to be that of a little country gentleman, who lives upon his income, and knows enough of the world not to envy his richer neighbours.

Let me hear from you, my dear Fitzgerald, and tell me, if, little as I am, I can be any way of the leaſt uſe to you.

You K10v 212

You will ſee Emily before I do; ſhe is more lovely, more enchanting, than ever.

Mrs. Fitzgerald will make me happy if ſhe can invent any commands for me.

Adieu! Believe me, Your faithful, &c.

Ed. Rivers.

Let- K11r 213


To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

Every mark of your friendſhip, my dear Rivers, muſt be particularly pleaſing to one who knows your worth as I do: I have, therefore, to thank you as well for your letter, as for thoſe obliging offers of ſervice, which I ſhall make no ſcruple of accepting, if I have occaſion for them.

I rejoice in the proſpect of your being as happy as myſelf: nothing can be more juſt than your ideas of marriage; I mean, of a marriage founded on inclination: all that you deſcribe, I am ſo happy as to experience.

I never K11v 214

I never loved my ſweet girl ſo tenderly as ſince ſhe has been mine; my heart acknowledges the obligation of her having truſted the future happineſs or miſery of her life in my hands. She is every hour more dear to me; I value as I ought thoſe thouſand little attentions, by which a new ſoftneſs is every moment given to our affection.

I do not indeed feel the ſame tumultous emotion at ſeeing her; but I feel a ſenſation equally delightful: a joy more tranquil, but not leſs lively.

I will own to you, that I had ſtrong prejudices againſt marriage, which nothing but love could have conquered; the idea of an indiſſoluble union deterred me from thinking of a ſerious engagement: I attached myſelf to the moſt ſeducing, moſt 4 attractive K12r 215 attractive of women, without thinking the pleaſure I found in ſeeing her of any conſequence; I thought her lovely, but never ſuſpected I loved; I thought the delight I taſted in hearing her, merely the effects of thoſe charms which all the world found in her converſation; my vanity was gratified by the flattering preference ſhe gave me to the reſt of my ſex; I fancied this all, and imagined I could ceaſe ſeeing the little ſyren whenever I pleaſed.

I was, however, miſtaken; love ſtole upon me imperceptibly, and en badinant; I was enſlaved, when I only thought myſelf amuſed.

We have not yet ſeen Miſs Montague; we go down on Friday to Berkſhire, Bell having ſome letters for her, which ſhe was deſired to deliver herſelf.

I will K12v 216

I will write to you again the moment I have ſeen her.

The invitation Mr. and Mrs. Temple have been ſo obliging as to give us, is too pleaſing to ourſelves not to be accepted; we alſo expect with impatience the time of viſiting you at your farm.

Adieu! Your affectionate

J. Fitzgerald.

Let- L1r 217


To Captain Fitzgerald.

Being here on ſome buſineſs, my dear friend, I receive your letter in time to anſwer it to-night.

We hope to be in town this day ſeven- night; and I flatter myſelf, my deareſt Emily will not delay my happineſs many days longer: I grudge you the pleaſure of ſeeing her on Friday.

Vol. III. L I tri- L1v 218

I triumph greatly in your having been ſeduced into matrimony, becauſe I never knew a man more of a turn to make an agreable husband; it was the idea that occurred to me the firſt moment I ſaw you.

Do you know, my dear Fitzgerald, that, if your little ſyren had not anticipated my purpoſe, I had deſigns upon you for my ſiſter?

Through that careleſs, inattentive look of yours, I ſaw ſo much right ſenſe, and ſo affectionate a heart, that I wiſhed nothing ſo much as that ſhe might have attached you; and had laid a ſcheme to bring you acquainted, hoping the reſt 1 from L2r 219 from the merit ſo conſpicuous in you both.

Both are, however, ſo happily diſpoſed of elſewhere, that I have no reaſon to regret my ſcheme did not ſucceed.

There is ſomething in your perſon, as well as manner, which I am convinced muſt be particularly pleaſing to women; with an extremely agreable form, you have a certain manly, ſpirited air, which promiſes them a protector; a look of underſtanding, which is the indication of a pleaſing companion; a ſenſibility of countenance, which ſpeaks a friend and a lover; to which I ought to add, an affectionate, conſtant attention to women, and a polite indifference to men, which above all things flatters the vanity of the ſex.

L2 Of L2v 220

Of all men breathing, I ſhould have been moſt afraid of you as a rival; Mrs. Fitzgerald has told me, you have ſaid the ſame thing of me.

Happily, however, our taſtes were different; the two amiable objects of our tenderneſs were perhaps equally lovely; but it is not the meer form, it is the character that ſtrikes: the fire, the ſpirit, the vivacity, the awakened manner, of Miſs Fermor won you; whilſt my heart was captivated by that bewitching languor, that ſeducing ſoftneſs, that melting ſenſibility, in the air of my ſweet Emily, which is, at leaſt to me, more touching than all the ſprightlineſs in the world.

There is in true ſenſibility of ſoul, ſuch a reſiſtleſs charm, that we are even affected by that of which we are not ourſelves the object: we feel a degree of emotion at being L3r 221 being witneſs to the affection which another inſpires.

’Tis late, and my horſes are at the door.

Adieu! Your faithful

Ed. Rivers.

Let- L3v 222


To Miſs Montague, Roſe-hill, Berkſhire.

Ihave but a moment, my deareſt Emily, to tell you heaven favors your tenderneſs: it removes every anxiety from two of the worthieſt and moſt gentle of human hearts.

You and my brother have both lamented to me the painful neceſſity you were under, of reducing my mother to a leſs income than that to which ſhe had been accuſtomed.

An unexpected event has reſtored to her more than what her tenderneſs for my brother had deprived her of.

A relation L4r 223

A relation abroad, who owed every thing to her father’s friendſhip, has ſent her, as an acknowledgement of that friendſhip, a deed of gift, ſettling on her four hundred pounds a year for life.

My brother is at Stamford, and is yet unacquainted with this agreable event.

You will hear from him next poſt.

Adieu! my dear Emily! Your affectionate

L. Temple.

End of Vol. III.


of Emily Montague.

By the Author of Lady Julia Mandeville.

Vol. IV.

Printed for J. Dodsley, in Pall Mall. 1769MDCCLXIX.

B1r 1

The History of Emily Montague.


To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

Can you in earneſt aſk ſuch a queſtion? can you ſuppoſe I ever felt the leaſt degree of love for Sir George? No, my Rivers, never did your Emily feel tenderneſs till ſhe ſaw the Vol. IV. B love- B1v 2 lovelieſt, the moſt amiable of his ſex, till thoſe eyes ſpoke the ſentiments of a ſoul every idea of which was ſimilar to her own.

Yes, my Rivers, our ſouls have the moſt perfect reſemblance: I never heard you ſpeak without finding the feelings of my own heart developed; your converſation conveyed your Emily’s ideas, but cloathed in the language of angels.

I thought well of Sir George; I ſaw him as the man deſtined to be my huſband; I fancied he loved me, and that gratitude obliged me to a return; carried away by the ardor of my friends for this marriage, I rather ſuffered than approved his addreſſes; I had not courage to reſiſt the torrent, I therefore gave way to it; I loved no other, I fancied my want of affection a native coldneſs of temper. I felt a languid eſteem, which I endeavored to flatter B2r 3 flatter myſelf was love; but the moment I ſaw you, the deluſion vaniſhed.

Your eyes, my Rivers, in one moment convinced me I had a heart; you ſtaid ſome weeks with us in the country: with what tranſport do I recollect thoſe pleaſing moments! how did my heart beat whenever you approached me! what charms did I find in your converſation! I heard you talk with a delight of which I was not miſtreſs. I fancied every woman who ſaw you felt the ſame emotions: my tenderneſs increaſed imperceptibly without my perceiving the conſequences of my indulging the dear pleaſure of ſeeing you.

I found I loved, yet was doubtful of your ſentiments; my heart, however, flattered me yours was equally affected; my ſituation prevented an explanation; but love has a thouſand ways of making himſelf underſtood.

B2 How B2v 4

How dear to me were thoſe ſoft, thoſe delicate attentions, which told me all you felt for me, without communicating it to others!

Do you remember that day, my Rivers, when, ſitting in the little hawthorn grove, near the borders of the river, the reſt of the company, of which Sir George was one, ran to look at a ſhip that was paſſing: I would have followed; you aſked me to ſtay, by a look which it was impoſſible to miſtake; nothing could be more imprudent than my ſtay, yet I had not reſolution to refuſe what I ſaw gave you pleaſure: I ſtayed; you preſſed my hand, you regarded me with a look of unutterable love.

My Rivers, from that dear moment your Emily vowed never to be another’s: ſhe vowed not to ſacrifice all the happineſs of her life to a romantic parade of fidelity to B3r 5 to a man whom ſhe had been betrayed into receiving as a lover; ſhe reſolved, if neceſſary, to own to him the tenderneſs with which you had inſpired her, to entreat from his eſteem, from his compaſſion, a releaſe from engagements which made her wretched.

My heart burns with the love of virtue, I am tremblingly alive to fame: what bitterneſs then muſt have been my portion had I firſt ſeen you when the wife of another!

Such is the powerful ſympathy that unites us, that I fear, that virtue, that ſtrong ſenſe of honor and fame, ſo powerful in minds moſt turned to tenderneſs, would only have ſerved to make more poignant the pangs of hopeleſs, deſpairing love.

B3 How B3v 6

How bleſt am I, that we met before my ſituation made it a crime to love you! I ſhudder at the idea how wretched I might have been, had I ſeen you a few months later.

I am juſt returned from a viſit at a few miles diſtance. I find a letter from my dear Bell, that ſhe will be here to-morrow; how do I long to ſee her, to talk to her of my Rivers!

I am interrupted.

Adieu! Yours,

Emily Montague.

Let- B4r 7


To Mrs. Temple.

Ihave this moment, my dear Mrs. Temple’s letter: ſhe will imagine my tranſport at the happy event ſhe mentions; my dear Rivers has, in ſome degree, ſacrificed even filial affection to his tenderneſs for me; the conſciouſneſs of this has ever caſt a damp on the pleaſure I ſhould otherwiſe have felt, at the proſpect of ſpending my life with the moſt excellent of mankind: I ſhall now be his, without the painful reflection of having leſſened the enjoyments of the beſt parent that ever exiſted.

I ſhould be bleſt indeed, my amiable friend, if I did not ſuffer from my too B4 anxious B4v 8 anxious tenderneſs; I dread the poſſibility of my becoming in time leſs dear to your brother; I love him to ſuch exceſs that I could not ſurvive the loſs of his affection.

There is no diſtreſs, no want, I could not bear with delight for him; but if I loſe his heart, I loſe all for which life is worth keeping.

Could I bear to ſee thoſe looks of ardent love converted into the cold glances of indifference!

You will, my deareſt friend, pity a heart, whoſe too great ſenſibility wounds itſelf: why ſhould I fear? was ever tenderneſs equal to that of my Rivers? can a heart like his change from caprice? It ſhall be the buſineſs of my life to merit his tenderneſs.

I will B5r 9

I will not give way to fears which injure him, and, indulged, would deſtroy all my happineſs.

I expect Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald every moment. Adieu!

Your affectionate

Emily Montague.


To Captain Fitzgerald.

You ſay true, my dear Fitzgerald: friendſhip, like love, is more the child of ſympathy than of reaſon; though inſpired by qualities very oppoſite to thoſe B5 which B5v 10 which give love, it ſtrikes like that in a moment: like that, it is free as air, and, when conſtrained, loſes all its ſpirit.

In both, from ſome nameleſs cauſe, at leaſt ſome cauſe to us incomprehenſible, the affections take fire the inſtant two perſons, whoſe minds are in uniſon, obſerve each other, which, however, they may often meet without doing.

It is therefore as impoſſible for others to point out objects of our friendſhip as love; our choice muſt be uninfluenced, if we wiſh to find happineſs in either.

Cold, lifeleſs eſteem may grow from a long taſteleſs acquaintance; but real affection makes a ſudden and lively impreſſion.

This impreſſion is improved, is ſtrengthened by time, and a more intimate knowledge of the merit of the perſon who makes B6r 11 makes it; but it is, it muſt be, ſpontaneous, or be nothing.

I felt this ſympathy powerfully in regard to yourſelf; I had the ſtrongeſt partiality for you before I knew how very worthy you were of my eſteem.

Your countenance and manner made an impreſſion on me, which inclined me to take your virtues upon truſt.

It is not always ſafe to depend on theſe preventive feelings; but in general the face is a pretty faithful index of the mind.

I propoſe being in town in four or five days.

My mother has this moment a ſecond letter from her relation, who is coming B6 home, B6v 12 home, and propoſes a marriage between me and his daughter, to whom he will give twenty thouſand pounds now, and the reſt of his fortune at his death.

As Emily’s fault, if love can allow her one, is an exceſs of romantic generoſity, the fault of moſt uncorrupted female minds, I am very anxious to marry her before ſhe knows of this propoſal, leſt ſhe ſhould think it a proof of tenderneſs to aim at making me wretched, in order to make me rich.

I therefore entreat you and Mrs. Fitzgerald to ſtay at Roſe-hill, and prevent her coming to town, till ſhe is mine paſt the power of retreat.

Our relation may have mentioned his deſign to perſons leſs prudent than our little party; and ſhe may hear of it, if ſhe is in London.

But, B7r 13

But, independently of my fear of her ſpirit of romance, I feel that it would be an indelicacy to let her know of this propoſal at preſent, and look like attempting to make a merit of my refuſal.

It is not to you, my dear friend, I need ſay the gifts of fortune are nothing to me without her for whoſe ſake alone I wiſh to poſſeſs them: you know my heart, and you alſo know this is the ſentiment of every man who loves.

But I can with truth ſay uch more; I do not even with an increaſe of fortune, conſidering it abſtractedly from its being incompatible with my marriage with the lovelieſt of women; I am indifferent to all but independence; wealth would not make me happier; on the contrary, it might break in on my preſent little plan of enjoyment, by forcing me to give to common acquaintance, of whom wealth will always B7v 14 always attract a crowd, thoſe precious hours devoted to friendſhip and domeſtic pleaſure.

I think my preſent income juſt what a wiſe man would wiſh, and very ſincerely join in the philoſophical prayer of the royal prophet, Give me neither poverty nor riches.

I love the vale, and had always an averſion to very extenſive proſpects.

I will haſten my coming as much as poſſible, and hope to be at Roſe-hill on Monday next: I ſhall be a prey to anxiety till Emily is irrevocably mine.

Tell Mrs. Fitzgerald, I am all impatience to kiſs her hand.

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.

Let- B8r 15


To Captain Fermor.

Iam this moment returned to Richmond from a journey: I am rejoiced at your arrival, and impatient to ſee you; for I am ſo happy as not to have out-lived my impatience.

How is my little Bell? I am as much in love with her as ever; this you will conceal from Captain Fitzgerald, leſt he ſhould be alarmed, for I am as formidable a rival as a man of fourſcore can be ſuppoſed to be.

I am extremely obliged to you, my dear Fermor, for having introduced me to a very B8v 16 very amiable man, in your friend Colonel Rivers.

I begin to be ſo ſenſible I am an old fellow, that I feel a very lively degree of gratitude to the young ones who viſit me; and look on every agreable new acquaintance under thirty as an acquiſition I had no right to expect.

You know I have always thought perſonal advantages of much more real value than accidental ones; and that thoſe who poſſeſſed the former had much the greateſt right to be proud.

Youth, health, beauty, underſtanding, are ſubſtantial goods; wealth and title comparatively ideal ones; I therefore think a young man who condeſcends to viſit an old man, the healthy who viſit the ſick, the man of ſenſe who ſpends his time with a fool, and even a handſome fellow with 2 an B9r 17 an ugly one, are the perſons who confer the favor, whatever difference there may be in rank or fortune.

Colonel Rivers did me the honor to ſpend a day with me here, and I have not often lately paſſed a pleaſanter one: the deſire I had not to diſcredit your partial recommendation, and my very ſtrong inclinations to ſeduce him to come again, made me intirely diſcard the old man; and I believe your friend will tell you the hours did not paſs on leaden wings.

I expect you, with Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, to paſs ſome time with me at Richmond.

I have the beſt claret in the univerſe, and as lively a reliſh for it as at five and twenty.

Adieu! your affectionate


Let- B9v 18


To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

Since I ſent away my letter, I have your laſt.

You tell me, my dear Rivers, the ſtrong emotion I betrayed at ſeeing Sir George, when you came together to Montreal, made you fear I loved him; that you were jealous of the bluſh which glowed on my cheek, when he entered the room: that you ſtill remember it with regret; that you ſtill fancy I had once ſome degree of tenderneſs for him, and beg me to account for the apparent confuſion I betrayed at his ſight.

I own B10r 19

I own that emotion; my confuſion was indeed too great to be concealed: but was he alone, my Rivers? can you forget that he had with him the moſt lovely of mankind?

Sir George was handſome; I have often regarded his perſon with admiration, but it was the admiration we give to a ſtatue.

I liſtened coldly to his love, I felt no emotion at his ſight; but when you appeared, my heart beat, I bluſhed, I turned pale by turns, my eyes aſſumed a new ſoftneſs, I trembled, and every pulſe confeſſed the maſter of my ſoul.

My friends are come: I am called down. Adieu! Be aſſured your Emily never breathed a ſigh but for her Rivers!

Adieu! Yours,

Emily Montague.

Let- B10v 20


To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.


Ihave this moment your letter; we are ſetting out in ten minutes for Roſehill, where I will finiſh this, and hope to give you a pleaſing account of your Emily.

You are certainly right in keeping this propoſal ſecret at preſent; depend on our ſilence; I could, however, wiſh you the fortune, were it poſſible to have it without the lady.

Were I to praiſe your delicacy on this occaſion, I ſhould injure you; it was not in your power to act differently; you are only conſiſtent with yourſelf.

I am B11r 21

I am pleaſed with your idea of a ſituation: a houſe emboſomed in the grove, where all the view is what the eye can take in, ſpeaks a happy maſter, content at home; a wide-extended proſpect, one who is looking abroad for happineſs.

I love the country: the taſte for rural ſcenes is the taſte born with us. After ſeeking pleaſure in vain amongſt the works of art, we are forced to come back to the point from whence we ſet out, and find our enjoyment in the lovely ſimplicity of nature.

I am afraid Emily knows your ſecret; ſhe has been in tears almoſt ever ſince we came; the ſervant is going to the poſt- office, and I have but a moment to tell you we B11v 22 we will ſtay here till your arrival, which you will haſten as much as poſſible.

Adieu! Your affectionate

J. Fitzgerald.


To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

If I was not certain of your eſteem and friendſhip, my dear Rivers, I ſhould tremble at the requeſt I am going to make you.

It is to ſuſpend our marriage for ſome time, and not aſk me the reaſon for this delay.

Be B12r 23

Be aſſured of my tenderneſs; be aſſured my whole ſoul is yours, that you are dearer to me than life, that I love you as never woman loved; that I live, I breathe but for you; that I would die to make you happy.

In what words ſhall I convey to the moſt beloved of his ſex, the ardent tenderneſs of my ſoul? how convince him of what I ſuffer from being forced to make a requeſt ſo contrary to the dictates of my heart? He cannot, will not doubt his Emily’s affection: I cannot ſupport the idea that it is poſſible he ſhould for one inſtant. What I ſuffer at this moment is inexpreſſible.

My heart is too much agitated to ſay more.

I will write again in a few days.

I know B12v 24

I know not what I would ſay; but indeed, my Rivers, I love you; you yourſelf can ſcarce form an idea to what exceſs!

Adieu! Your faithful

Emily Montague.


To Miſs Montague, Roſe-hill, Berkſhire.

No, Emily, you never loved; I have been long hurt by your tranquillity in regard to our marriage; your too ſcrupulous attention to decorum in leaving my ſiſter’s houſe might have alarmed me, if love had not placed a bandage before my eyes.

Cruel C1r 25

Cruel girl! I repeat it; you never loved; I have your friendſhip, but you know nothing of that ardent paſſion, that dear enthuſiaſm, which makes us indifferent to all but itſelf: your love is from imagigination, not the heart.

The very profeſſions of tenderneſs in your laſt, are a proof of your conſciouſneſs of indifference; you repeat too often that you love me; you ſay too much; that anxiety to perſuade me of your affection, ſhews too plainly you are ſenſible I have reaſon to doubt it.

You have placed me on the rack; a thouſand fears, a thouſand doubts, ſucceed each other in my ſoul. Has ſome happier man—

No, my Emily, diſtracted as I am, I will not be unjuſt: I do not ſuſpect you of Vol. IV. C incon- C1v 26 inconſtancy; ’tis of your coldneſs only I complain: you never felt the lively impatience of love; or you would not condemn a man, whom you at leaſt eſteem, to ſuffer longer its unutterable tortures.

If there is a real cauſe for this delay, why conceal it from me? have I not a right to know what ſo nearly intereſts me? but what cauſe? are you not miſtreſs of yourſelf?

My Emily, you bluſh to own to me the inſenſibility of your heart: you once fancied you loved; you are aſhamed to ſay you were miſtaken.

You cannot ſurely have been influenced by any motive relative to our fortune; no idle tale can have made you retract a promiſe, which rendered me the happieſt of mankind: if I have your heart, I am richer than an oriental monarch.

Short C2r 27

Short as life is, my deareſt girl, is it of conſequence what part we play in it? is wealth at all eſſential to happineſs?

The tender affections are the only ſources of true pleaſure; the higheſt, the moſt reſpectable titles, in the eye of reaſon, are the tender ones of friend, of husband, and of father: it is from the dear ſoft ties of ſocial love your Rivers expects his felicity.

You have but one way, my dear Emily, to convince me of your tenderneſs: I ſhall ſet off for Roſe-hill in twelve hours; you muſt give me your hand the moment I arrive, or confeſs your Rivers was never dear to you.

Write, and ſend a ſervant inſtantly to meet me at my mother’s houſe in town: I cannot ſupport the torment of ſuſpenſe.

C2 There C2v 28

There is not on earth ſo wretched a being as I am at this moment; I never knew till now to what exceſs I loved: you muſt be mine, my Emily, or I muſt ceaſe to live.


To Captain Fitzgerald, Roſe-hill, Berkſhire.

All I feared has certainly happened; Emily has undoubtedly heard of this propoſal, and, from a parade of generoſity, a generoſity however inconſiſtent with love, wiſhes to poſtpone our marriage till my relation arrives.

I am C3r 29

I am hurt beyond words, at the manner in which ſhe has wrote to me on this ſubejct; I have, in regard to Sir George, experienced that theſe are not the ſentiments of a heart truly enamored.

I therefore fear this romantic ſtep is the effect of a coldneſs of which I thought her incapable; and that her affection is only a more lively degree of friendſhip, with which, I will own to you, my heart will not be ſatisfied.

I would engroſs, I would employ, I would abſorb, every faculty of that lovely mind.

I have too long ſuffered prudence to delay my happineſs: I cannot longer live without her: if ſhe loves me, I ſhall on Tueſday call her mine.

C3 Adieu! C3v 30

Adieu! I ſhall be with you almoſt as ſoon as this letter.

Your affectionate

Ed. Rivers.


To Colonel Rivers, Clarges-ſtreet.

Is it then poſſible? can my Rivers doubt his Emily’s tenderneſs?

Do I only eſteem you, my Rivers? can my eyes have ſo ill explained the feelings of my heart?

You accuſe me of not ſharing your impatience: do you then allow nothing to C4r 31 to the modeſty, the bluſhing delicacy, of my ſex?

Could you ſee into my ſoul, you would ceaſe to call me cold and inſenſible.

Can you forget, my Rivers, thoſe moments, when, doubtful of the ſentiments of your heart, mine every inſtant betrayed its weakneſs? when every look ſpoke the reſiſtleſs fondneſs of my ſoul! when, loſt in the delight of ſeeing you, I forgot I was almoſt the wife of another?

But I will ſay no more; my Rivers tells me I have already ſaid too much: he is diſpleaſed with his Emily’s tenderneſs; he complains, that I tell him too often I love him.

You ſay I can give but one certain proof of my affection.

C4 I will C4v 32

I will give you that pr