The French appear to understand less than any other people the delights arising from an union of hearts. They seek only the gratification of their sensual appetites. They gather the flowers, but taste not the fruits of love. They call women the "_beau sexe_," and know them only under the enchanting form of ministers of pleasure. They may appear thus to those who have only eyes; by those who have hearts they will always be considered as sacred objects of reverence and love. A man who thinks and feels views in woman the beneficent creature who nourished him with her milk, and watched over his helpless infancy; a consoling being who soothes his pains and softens his sorrows by her tenderness and even by her levity and her sports. But here female virtue is blasted in the bud by the contagious influence of example. Every girl sighs to be married to escape from the restraint in which she is held whilst single, and to enjoy the unbounded liberty she so often sees abused by her mother. A husband is necessary to give her a place in society; but is considered of so little importance to her happiness, that in the choice of one her inclination is very seldom consulted. And when her heart, in spite of custom, feels the pain of being alone, and seeks an asylum in the bosom of her husband, she too often finds it shut against her; she is assailed by those whose only desire is to add another trophy to their conquests, and is borne away by the torrent of fashion and dissipation till all traces of her native simplicity are destroyed. She joins with unblushing front, the crowd who talk of sentiments they never feel, and who indulge in the most licentious excesses without having the glow of passion to gild their errors. These reflections were suggested by a most preposterous marriage, at which I was present. A girl of fifteen was sacrificed by her grandmother to a man of sixty, of the most disagreeable appearance and forbidding manners. The soul of this unfortunate victim is all melting softness; she is of the most extraordinary beauty; she is now given to the world, and in those who surround her she will find the destroyers of her delicacy, her simplicity, and her peace. LETTER XI. _Cape Francois._ To give you some idea of the despotism that reigns in this country, I must relate an event which, though it originated with Clara, was certainly carried farther than she either expected or desired.