 Section 4 of the History of Emily Montague, Volume 3 by Francis Moore-Brook. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Letters 152-159 Letter 152 to the Earl of Blank, Silori, June 6, 1776 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 into those people an aversion to the English. At least I have been told this by the Indians themselves. We seem equally surprised and piqued that we do not send missionaries amongst them. 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 propituous to the Europeans than to themselves. And as an ambassador from the prince whose subject he is, they therefore think it a mark of honour and a proof of esteem to receive missionaries. And to our remissiveness and the French wise attention on this head is owing the extreme attachment the greater part of the savage nation 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, nor would it be difficult for ours to do the same where 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 and peace, their activity and ferocity and war, their fondness for field sports, their hatred of labour, 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 favourable to the people than in France. Many of the officers also and those of rank in the colony troops have been adopted into the savage tribes and there is stronger evidence than for the honour 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 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 are the most virtuous, the fact which makes directly against Rousseau's ideal system. Indeed all systems make against instead of leading to the discovery of truth. Père Lafitteau 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 agreeable or not to my own opinion. My accounts may therefore be false or imperfect from mistake or misinformation, 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 that they have more than polished nations. Your lordship asked 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 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, confesses 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 conventional life as an expiation. This way of being virtuous by proxy is certainly very easy and convenient to such sinners as we 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 lordships, etc., William Firmore. Letter 153 Your lordship will receive this from the hands of one of the most worthy and amable 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 and the choice of friends, and that there are so few who have your perfect esteem and confidence that the acquaintance 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 a wisdom and experience 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 visit it together at Hamburg, 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 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 Saint-Yours 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 Hamburg, of going out to marry, though on no other consideration. Your lordship may remember every nun at Hamburg as a right of marrying, except the Abbas, and that on your lordship's telling the lady who then presided, and who was young and very handsome, 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 for this colony, which he is much more able to give you than I am, having visited every part of Canada and the design of settling in it. I have the honour to be my lord, et cetera, William Firmore. 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 into a convent. I inquired which she made choice of, she said, the General Hospital. I'm glad, mademoiselle, you have not chosen your salines, the rules of so very severe, you would have found them hard to conform to. As to the 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 return, and I left her fully convinced of the sincerity of her vocation, and the great propriety and humanity of suffering young creatures to choose 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 154 To Mrs. Temple, Palmao, Soleri, June 9 I sent this by your brother, who sails tomorrow. Time I hope will reconcile me to his and Emily's absence, but at present I cannot think of using them without a dejection of mind which takes from me the very idea of pleasure. I conjure you, my dear Lucy, to do everything possible to facilitate their union, and remember that to your request, and to Mrs. Rivers' tranquility, they have sacrificed every prospect they had of happiness. I would say more, but my spirit 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-firma. Letter 155 To Mrs. Temple, Palmao, Soleri, June 10 Evening 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 show attention to Madame de Roche, 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 as to himself as to his Emily, and to offer her his best services in England in regard to her estate, part of which some people here have very ungenerously applied for a grant of, on pretense of it 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 that the idea of never seeing her more. I still love him for this sensibility, and for his delicate attention to one who's disinterested affection for him most certainly deserves it. If it's Cheryl this below, he does all possible to consume 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 de Roche, which I must not lose, as they are not very frequent. It is by a French gentleman who is now with my father. Adieu, your faithful a-firmer. 12 at night. 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 mankind, 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 ass's milk, Sir George Clayton, whose highest came to virtue is the constitutional absence of vice, and who never knew what it was to feel for the sorrows of another. You mistake, Belle, 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 taste for the airy food of romances, when ladies rode behind their enamoured knights, dined luxuriously on a banquet of halls, and quenched their thirst at the first stream. But my dear papa, but my dear Belle, I saw the sweet old man look angry, so I chose to drop the subject. But I do, Ava, now he is out of sight, that halls and a pillion, with such a noble fellow as your brother, are preferable to orphans and a coach in six, with such a piece of still life and insipidity as Sir George. Good night, my dear Lucy. Letter 156 To Mrs. Temple, Palmael, Solari, June 17th I had 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' 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 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 surprised, at what you tell me of poor Lady Age. I knew her intimately. She was sacrificed at 18 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 property 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 honour. If her father has any of the feelings of humanity left, what must he not suffer on this occasion? 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 endeavoured to betray us into choosing from sordid motives. They have not laboured to fill our young hearts with vanity or avarice. They have left us those virtues, those amiable qualities we receive from nature. They have painted to us a chance of friendship and not taught us to value riches above their real price. 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 cockatry. 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. 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 concentration this morning. Do you know that, having nobody to love but Fitzgerald, I am ten times more enamoured of a 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 agreeable variety of character that first struck me. I consider that with him I should have all the six in one. He says the same of me, and indeed it must be owned, we have both an infinity of agreeable capris, which in love affairs is worth all the merit in the world. Have you never observed Lucy that the same person 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 capris. 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'm equally anxious to hear of my dear rivers, heaven send them prosperous gales, adieu, your faithful, a firmer. Letter 157 To Mrs. Temple Palmao, Celeri, June 30th 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 agreeable. The scenes about us are lovely, and the mode of amusement 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 peculiar tenderness in those friendships, which grow with our growth and strengthen with our strength. There was also something romantic and agreeable 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, everything concurred to make us dear to each other, and therefore to give a greater poignancy to the pain of parting the second time. As to your brother, I love him so much that a man who had less candour and generosity than Fitzgerald would be almost angry at my very lively friendship. I have this moment a letter from Madame de Roche. 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, but 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 she believes best for her he has left the country, for that it is impossible she should ever have seen him with a difference. 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 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-firma. Letter 158 To Mrs. Temple, Palmao, Celery, July the 10th By this time, my dear Lucy, I hope you are happy with your brother and my sweet Emily. I am all impatient 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 my part, I am convinced the general lequacity of humankind 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 mamas, 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 the nature of things, it cannot long continue so. You never saw so polite a husband, but I suppose they are also 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 that I will blunder it out very soon. We were married on a party to three rivers, nobody with us but Papa and Madame Villier, 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. Everybody should be amused in their way. But you, yours, a Fitzgerald. Pray let Emily be married. Everybody marries but poor little Emily. Letter 159 To the Earl of Blank Celerie, July 10th I have 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 excellent sense and of honour, and has a very lively tenderness for my daughter. It will, I am afraid, be some time before I can leave this country as I choose to take my daughter and Mr. Fitzgerald with me in order to the latter 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 Belle's volatile temper made me sometimes afraid of her choosing 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 climate is all the year agreeable and healthy. In summer, divine, a man of my time of life cannot leave this cheering and livening sun without reluctance. The heat is very like that of Italy or the south of France, that oppressive closeness which generally attends our hot weather in England. The manner of life here is cheerful. We make the most of our fine summers by the pleasantest country parties you can imagine. Here are some very estimable persons in 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 obliged to break off abruptly. The person who takes this to England being going immediately on board. I have the honour to be, my lord, your lordships, et cetera. William Firmwell. End of Section 4. Section 5 of the History of Emily Montague, Volume 3 by Francis Moore Brook. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Letters 160 through 169. Letter 160. To John Temple, Esquire, Palmael, Sileri, July the 13th. I agree with you, my dear temple, that nothing can be more pleasing than an awakened Englishwoman, of which you and my carousels pose or have, I flatter myself, the 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 country women 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 agreeable companions and amiable wives, which nature meant them. From a fair, 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 owns 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 as a native right to charm as any women 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. Twelve o'clock, I am the happiest woman of 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 everything in time, you know, temple. I shall see my Emily and flirt with rivers, to say nothing of you and my dear Lucy. I am grown very lazy since I'm married. For the future I shall make Fitzgerald write all my letters, except Billet-Doux, in which I think I excel him. Yours, A. Fitzgerald. Letter one sixty-one. To Miss Furmer at Solary, Dover, July eight. I am this moment arrived, my dear Belle, after a very agreeable passage, and am setting out immediately for London, from whence I shall write to you the moment I 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 river 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 everything affectionate for me, to Captain Furmer and Mr. Fitzgerald. Adieu, yours, Emily Montague. Letter 162 To Miss Furmer at Solary, London, July 19 I got 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 mine 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 I have exposed myself to the chance of such a reception? It would have been better to have waited for Rivers' arrival. I have been too precipitant. 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 wrap at the door. I tremble. I know not why. The servant comes up. He announces Mr. and Mrs. Temple. My heart beats. I am near at the door. One o'clock. 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 everything to remove it. They inquired after Rivers, but without the least hint of the dear interest 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, was 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 almost forgot to tell you they said everything obliging and affectionate of you and Captain Furmer. 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. Twelve at night. I am come back, my dearest Belle. 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 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 river'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 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 showing 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 tomorrow 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 tomorrow. You shall hear from me again in a few days by the packet. Adieu, my dearest friend. You are faithful, Emily Montague. Surely it will not be long before Rivers arrives. You, my dear Bill, will judge what must be my anxiety till that moment. Letter 163 to Captain Firmar at Celery Dover, July 24, eleven o'clock. I am arrived, my dear friend, after a passage agreeable 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 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 inquire 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 of my Emily described amongst the passengers who landed it was not easy to mistake her. I hoped 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 chase 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 my self. My chase is at the door. Adieu your faithful, etc. Ed Rivers. Letter 164 to Ms. Firmar, Archceleri, Rochester, July 24. I'm 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. To soften this moment as much as possible I will begin a letter to my dear bell. It is safe, I wrote to Captain Firmar 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. From 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 beauty of Kent is the beauty of the countryside 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 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 need my servant to attend him. He comes, adieu my dear little bell. At this moment a gentleman has come into the inn who is going to embark at Dover for New York. I will send this by him once more. Adieu. Letter 165. To Miss Firmar at Ciliary. Clare Street, July 25. I am the only person here, my dear bell. Enough composed to tell you rivers is arrived in town. He stopped in his post-chase at the end of the street and sent for me that I might prepare my mother to see him and prevent a surprise 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 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 to-night. 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 Belle, 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 rivers prevents their being so tomorrow. Were our situations changed I should not hesitate a moment to let him make me so. Lucy has sent for me. Adieu. Believe me, you're faithful and devoted. J-Temple. Letter 166 To Miss Furmer at Salary, Paul Maul, July 29 I am the happiest of human beings. My rivers is arrived. He is well, he loves me, I am dear to his family. I see him without 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, but we are always together. We go down next week to Mr. Temples in Rutland. They only state in town expecting Rivers' arrival. His seat is within six miles of Rivers' 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 it possible, my dear Belle, 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 confidant 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 central and the cold will equally condemn my affection as romantic. Few minds, my dear Belle, 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 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 Belle. You're affectionate, Emily Montague. Letter 167. To Captain Froma at Solari, largest street, August 1. Lord Blank, not being in town, I went to Isabella at Richmond to deliver your letter. 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 as 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 interests should be employed for Fitzgerald and that he wished you to come to England as soon as possible. We're just setting off for Temple's house in Rutland. Adieu, your affectionate at Rivers. Letter 168. To Captain Froma at Solari, Temple House, August 4. I enjoy my dear friend in one of the pleasantest houses, the most agreeable situations imaginable, the society of the poor persons in the world, most dear to me. I am, in all respects, as much at home as if master of the family with the cares attending that station. My wishes, my desires are prevented by Temple's attention and friendship and my mother and sisters' 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 and 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 in bitter 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 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've lived amongst the first company in England all my connections have been rather suited to my birth than fortune. My mother presses me to resume my estate and let her live with us ultimately but against this I am firmly determined she shall have her own house and never change her manner of living. Temple would share his estate with me if I would allow him but I'm too fond of independence to accept favors of this kind even from him. I've formed a thousand schemes and as often found them abortive I go tomorrow 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 everything 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 along with my sister in her present situation yet I cannot live without seeing her I've never asked about Emily's fortune but I know it is a small one perhaps two thousand pounds I'm pretty certain not more we can live on little but we must live in some degree on our genteel footing I cannot let Emily who refused to coach and seek for me pay visits on foot I will be content with opposed chase 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 beauty 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 about nearer connection I'm rather peaked at a composure which has the error of indifference why it should not her impatience the coach is at the door and my mother waits for me every happiness that's in my friend and all connected with him in which number I hope I may by this time include Fitzgerald Adieu, Your Affectionate Ed Rivers Letter 169 to Captain Frama of Soleri August 6th I've been taking an exact survey of the house and estate with my mother in order to determine what your plan of life is inconceivable what I felt I'm returning to a place so dear to me in 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 prophetic expression of Thompson's a thousand little tenderness's throb I'm 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 our 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 certainly 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 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 of what we are to live I believe in strictness we ought to be much above my mother again solicits me to resume this estate and as 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 inclined to like this proposal Temple and I will make our 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 showing 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 I have taught new streams to flow planted ideal roads and walk 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 we have no show the air no more wrong sea 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 cornfields and gardens the boast of Europe in every elegant art which adorns and softens human life in all the riches and beauty which cultivation can hear I begin to think I may be blessed in the possession of my Emily into a state of war he 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 should be able to live taking the word live in a sense of lovers not of the role morn who will never allow a little country square of four hundred pounds a year to live time may do more for us at least I am of an age and temperate to encourage hope all here are perfect for yours adieu my dear friend your affectionate ed rivers end section five section six of the history of Emily Montague volume three by Francis Moore brook this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Letters 170 through 180 Letter 170 to Mrs. Temple Palmao Celery August the sixth the leave of absence from my father and Fitzgerald being come some weeks sooner than we expected we propose leaving Canada in five or six days I'm 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 hand which formed them I want to transport this 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 Neads of Montmorency 11 at night I'm just come from the General's Assembly where I should have told 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 coquettish creature as a wife I was grave at the assembly tonight in spite of all the pains I took to be otherwise I was heard at the idea to 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 tonight being indifferent to me there is something affecting in the idea of the last time of seeing even those persons of 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 heard 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 children and teach their wives to be good housewives I am the idol of the country people five miles round I am the most amiable, most generous woman in the world and I think it's a thousand pities I should be damned and you say everything to meet my sweet friends if arrived 7th 11 o'clock I have this moment a large packet of letters for Emily from Mrs Melmouth 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 etc aphid's child 3 o'clock I'm just come from visiting the nuns they expressed great concern of 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 country woman 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 I had been such a favourite 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 for friends in your family adieu I shall write a line the day we embark by another ship which may possibly arrive before us letter 171 2 Mrs. Temple Palmao 11th August we embark tomorrow and hope to see you in less than a month if this fine wind continues I have just come from Montmorency where I have been paying my devotions 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 vote of altar on the little island poured a libation of wine to the river goddess and in short did everything which it became good heathens to do we stayed till daylight began to decline which with the idea of the last time threw round us a certain melancholy solemnity a solemnity which deepened the murmur of the falling floods and breathed the browner horror on the woods I have twenty things to do and but a moment to do them in adieu I am called down it is to Madame de Roche she is very obliging to come thus far to see me 12th we go on board at one Madame de Roche 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 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 letter 172 to Mrs. Temple Palmao Kameraskas August the 14th by Madame de Roche 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 here is a French lady on board whose superstition bids fair to amuse us she is thrown half a little ornaments overboard for a wind and has promised I not know 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 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 weeds to the stern god of sea the boat is ready and Madame de Roche 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 mere complimentary kind of car only thanking him for his offers of service yet I see it gives her pleasure to write even this however cold and formal 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 to 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 coquettes and less inclined to the romantic style of love than the English and we are therefore surprised when you find in them this trembling sensibility there are exceptions however to all rules and your little bell seems in point of love to have changed countries with Madame de Roche the gale increases it flutters in the sails my fair friend is summoned the captain chides our delay adieu ma chair madame de Roche 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 imparting with the last of his friends she seems to part with her rivers forever 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 preserve my dear Lucy and give prosperous gales to her friends your faithful 8th it's Gerald letter 173 to Miss Montague Isle of Bic August the 16th you are little obliged to me my dear for writing to you on ship board one of the greatest miseries here being the one of employment I therefore write for my own amusement not yours we have some French ladies on board but they do not resemble madame de Roche 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 seven in the evening we are returned from Bic after passing a very agreeable day we dine 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 ciliary to our remembrance we walked after dinner and picked raspberries in the wood and in our ramble came unexpectedly to the middle of a visto which while some ships of war lay here 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 finally 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 mainly seen amongst the trees at a distance terminated the prospect in a manner which was enchanting I died 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 Fitzgerald has carded 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 a year for the present August 18 it is 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 sunbeams dance on the waves the fish are playing on the surface of the water the island is at a proper distance to form an agreeable 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 I have lost all desire of fixing at Bic I want to land and go to the house for milk but there is a good landing place on this side the island seems here to be fenced in by a regular wall of rock the breeze springs up our fishing is at an end for the present I am afraid we shall not pass many days so agreeably as we have done this I feel horror at the idea of so soon losing sight of land and launching on the vast Atlantic and you yours a Fitzgerald letter 174 to Mrs. Temple Palmao August the 26th at sea 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 scribble before we lost sight of land for I have had no spirits to write or do anything since there is inexpressible pleasure in meeting a ship at sea and renewing our commerce with the human kind after having been so absolutely separated from them I feel strongly at this moment the inconsistency 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 agreeable for my part this spirit is so powerful in me that I would gladly if I could have prevailed 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 hither too and whether to fight 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 profession 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 a mass wealth which the very profession takes away all possibility of enjoying even glory is a poor reward for a life past 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 past here 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 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 tired of mere 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 aphids Gerald letter 175 to Mrs. Temple Palmal Dover September the 8th we are this instant landed and shall be in town tomorrow 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 inquiries here for we left Quebec too soon to have advice there of their arrival adieu if in town you shall see us at the moment we get there if in the country right 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 aphids Gerald letter 176 to Mrs. Fitzgerald Temple House September 11 your letter my dear Belle 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 arguses 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 golden spices we have suffered the greater anxiety by the circumstance of your having returned at different times I flatter myself the future will pay us for the past you may now my dear Belle 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 everybody 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 Palmol 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 fitting up her apartment in a style equally simple and elegant which however you must not tell her because she is to be surprised her dressing room and the little adjoining closet of books will be enchanting yet the expense of all he has done is a mere trifle I am the only person in on 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 agreeable to her 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 chase 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 I am happy my brother will write to Mr. Fitzgerald next post say everything affectionate for us all to him and captain for more adieu yours Lucy temple letter one hundred and seventy seven to captain Fitzgerald Bellefield September 13 I congratulate you my dear friend on your safe arrival and on your voyage you have got the start of me in happiness I love you however to sincerely to envy you Emily has promised me her hand as soon as some little family affairs are settled which I flutter myself will not take above another week when she gave me this promise she begged me to allow her to return to Berkshire till our marriage took place I felt a propriety 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 satisfaction I shall keep some land in my own hands and farm which will enable me to have a post chase for Emily and my mother who will be a good deal with us and a constant decent table for a friend Emily is to super intend 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 such delight in the idea of making her happy that I think nothing of 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 women kind 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 twelve month when she died of a fever a stroke I was long before I recovered I loved her with tenderness but that love compared to what I feel for my family 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 as generally but not always true on the other side I have sometimes 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 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 a 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 of eluptuous tranquility the pleasure does not cease does not even lessen it only changes its nature 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 agreeable as well as 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 neighbors let me hear from you my dear Fitzgerald and tell me if little as I am I can be any way of the least used to you you will see Emily before I do she is more lovely more enchanting than ever Mrs. Fitzgerald will make me happy invent any commands for me how do you believe me your faithful etc and rivers letter 178 to Colonel Rivers at Bellefield Rutland London September 15 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 I will now close the blidging 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 a marriage founded on inclination all that you describe I am so happy as to experience I never loved my sweet girl so tenderly as since she has been mine she 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 tumultuous 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 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 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 see seeing the little siren whenever I pleased I was however mistaken love stole upon me imperceptibly an embodiment I was enslaved when I only thought love amused we have not yet seen Miss Montague but we go down on Friday to Berkshire Belle having some letters for her which she was desired to deliver herself 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 section at J. Fitzgerald letter one hundred and seventy nine to Captain Fitzgerald Stamford September 16 evening being here on some business my dear friend I receive your letter in time to answer it tonight 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 I triumph greatly in your having been seduced into matrimony because I never knew a man more of a turn to make an agreeable 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 siren 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 later esteemed to bring you acquainted hoping the rest from the merit so conspicuous 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'm convinced must be particularly pleasing to women with an extremely agreeable 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 of all men breathing I should have been most afraid of you as a rival 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 mere form it is the character that strikes the fire the spirit the vivacity the awakened manner of misfirmer one you whilst my heart was captivated by that bewitching anger that seducing softness that milking 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 being witness to the affection which another inspires tis late and my horses are at the door adieu your faithful Ed Rivers Letter 180 To Miss Montague Rose Hill Berkshire Temple House September 16 I have but a moment my dear Emily to tell you heaven favors your tenderness 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 abroad who owed acknowledgement of that friendship a deed of gift settling on her 400 pounds a year for life my brother is at Stamford and is yet unacquainted with this agreeable event you will hear from him next post adieu my dear Emily your affectionate El Temple End of section 6 End of the History of Emily Montague Volume 3 by Francis Moore Brook