To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Quebec, June 27.
I have this 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 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, 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.
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 river itself is one of the noblest in the world; its breadth is
ninety miles at its 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.
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 a place, think themselves qualified to give, not only its natural,
but its 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.