To Col. Rivers, at Quebec.
London, April 30.
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
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, 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 coyness 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.
Adieu!
J. Temple.