To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.
Silleri, Feb. 10.
I have mentioned my plan to Emily, who is charmed with it; 'tis a
pretty evening amusement for two solitary girls in the country.
Behold the first fruits of our correspondence:
"To Miss Fermor.
"It is not to you, my dear girl, I need vindicate my conduct in
regard to Sir George; you have from the first approved it; you have
even advised it. If I have been to blame, 'tis in having too long
delayed an explanation on a point of such importance to us both. I
have been long on the borders of a precipice, without courage to retire
from so dangerous a situation: overborn by my family, I have been near
marrying a man for whom I have not the least tenderness, and whose
conversation is even now tedious to me.
"My dear friend, we were not formed for each other: our minds have
not the least resemblance. Have you not observed that, when I have
timidly hazarded my ideas on the delicacy necessary to keep love alive
in marriage, and the difficulty of preserving the heart of the object
beloved in so intimate an union, he has indolently assented, with a
coldness not to be described, to sentiments which it is plain from his
manner he did not understand; whilst another, not interested in the
conversation, has, by his countenance, by the fire of his eyes, by
looks more eloquent than all language, shewed his soul was of
intelligence with mine!
"A strong sense of the force of engagements entered into with my
consent, though not the effect of my free, unbiassed choice, and the
fear of making Sir George, by whom I supposed myself beloved, unhappy,
have thus long prevented my resolving to break with him for ever; and
though I could not bring myself to marry him, I found myself at the
same time incapable of assuming sufficient resolution to tell him so,
'till his mother's letter gave me so happy an occasion.
"There is no saying what transport I feel in being freed from the
insupportable yoke of this engagement, which has long sat heavy on my
heart, and suspended the natural chearfulness of my temper.
"Yes, my dear, your Emily has been wretched, without daring to
confess it even to you: I was ashamed of owning I had entered into such
engagements with a man whom I had never loved, though I had for a short
time mistaken esteem for a greater degree of affection than my heart
ever really knew. How fatal, my dear Bell, is this mistake to half our
sex, and how happy am I to have discovered mine in time!
"I have scarce yet asked myself what I intend; but I think it will
be most prudent to return to England in the first ship, and retire to a
relation of my mother's in the country, where I can live with decency
on my little fortune.
"Whatever is my fate, no situation can be equally unhappy with that
of being wife to a man for whom I have not even the slightest
friendship or esteem, for whose conversation I have not the least
taste, and who, if I know him, would for ever think me under an
obligation to him for marrying me.
"I have the pleasure to see I give no pain to his heart, by a step
which has relieved mine from misery: his feelings are those of wounded
vanity, not of love.
"Adieu! Your
Emily Montague."
I have no patience with relations, Lucy; this sweet girl has been
two years wretched under the bondage her uncle's avarice (for he
foresaw Sir George's acquisition, though she did not) prepared for her.
Parents should chuse our company, but never even pretend to direct our
choice; if they take care we converse with men of honor only, 'tis
impossible we can chuse amiss: a conformity of taste and sentiment
alone can make marriage happy, and of that none but the parties
concerned can judge.
By the way, I think long engagements, even between persons who love,
extremely unfavorable to happiness: it is certainly right to be long
enough acquainted to know something of each other's temper; but 'tis
bad to let the first fire burn out before we come together; and when
we have once resolved, I have no notion of delaying a moment.
If I should ever consent to marry Fitzgerald, and he should not fly
for a licence before I had finished the sentence, I would dismiss him
if there was not another lover to be had in Canada.
Adieu!
Your faithful
A. Fermor.
My Emily is now free as air; a sweet little bird escaped from the
gilded cage. Are you not glad of it, Lucy? I am amazingly.