Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
At nine in the morning he went to pay a visit to his old friend Colonel
James, resolving, if possible, to have a full explanation of that
behaviour which appeared to him so mysterious: but the colonel was as
inaccessible as the best defended fortress; and it was as impossible
for Booth to pass beyond his entry as the Spaniards found it to take
Gibraltar. He received the usual answers; first, that the colonel was
not stirring, and an hour after that he was gone out. All that he got
by asking further questions was only to receive still ruder answers, by
which, if he had been very sagacious, he might have been satisfied how
little worth his while it was to desire to go in; for the porter at a
great man’s door is a kind of thermometer, by which you may discover
the warmth or coldness of his master’s friendship. Nay, in the highest
stations of all, as the great man himself hath his different kinds of
salutation, from an hearty embrace with a kiss, and my dear lord or dear
Sir Charles, down to, well Mr.----, what would you have me do? so the
porter to some bows with respect, to others with a smile, to some he
bows more, to others less low, to others not at all. Some he just
lets in, and others he just shuts out. And in all this they so well
correspond, that one would be inclined to think that the great man
and his porter had compared their lists together, and, like two actors
concerned to act different parts in the same scene, had rehearsed their
parts privately together before they ventured to perform in public.
Though Booth did not, perhaps, see the whole matter in this just light,
for that in reality it is, yet he was discerning enough to conclude,
from the behaviour of the servant, especially when he considered that of
the master likewise, that he had entirely lost the friendship of James;
and this conviction gave him a concern that not only the flattering
prospect of his lordship’s favour was not able to compensate, but which
even obliterated, and made him for a while forget the situation in which
he had left his Amelia: and he wandered about almost two hours, scarce
knowing where he went, till at last he dropt into a coffee-house near St
James’s, where he sat himself down.
He had scarce drank his dish of coffee before he heard a young officer
of the guards cry to another, “Od, d--n me, Jack, here he comes--here’s
old honour and dignity, faith.” Upon which he saw a chair open, and out
issued a most erect and stately figure indeed, with a vast periwig on
his head, and a vast hat under his arm. This august personage, having
entered the room, walked directly up to the upper end, where having paid
his respects to all present of any note, to each according to seniority,
he at last cast his eyes on Booth, and very civilly, though somewhat
coldly, asked him how he did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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