The History of Emily Montague Part 55

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 pa.s.sion 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 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 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 pa.s.sion 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 seen the most amiable, the most delicate of the s.e.x, 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 pa.s.sion, 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 sister tells me, she flatters herself, you will give a few months to hers and Mr. Temple's friends.h.i.+p; 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 circ.u.mstance: 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 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 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.

LETTER 178.

To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

London, Sept. 15.

Every mark of your friends.h.i.+p, 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 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 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 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 s.e.x; 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 Berks.h.i.+re, Bell 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!

Your affectionate J. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 179.

To Captain Fitzgerald.

Stamford, Sept. 16, Evening.

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.

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 antic.i.p.ated 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 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 s.e.x.

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 witness to the affection which another inspires.

'Tis late, and my horses are at the door.