LETTER 14.

To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Quebec, Sept. 15.

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 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 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 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!

Yours,

Ed. Rivers.

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