Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
“We now took leave of the garrison, and, having landed at Marseilles,
arrived at Montpelier, without anything happening to us worth
remembrance, except the extreme sea-sickness of poor Amelia; but I was
afterwards well repaid for the terrors which it occasioned me by the
good consequences which attended it; for I believe it contributed, even
more than the air of Montpelier, to the perfect re-establishment of her
health.”
“I ask your pardon for interrupting you,” cries Miss Matthews, “but you
never satisfied me whether you took the sergeant’s money. You have made
me half in love with that charming fellow.”
“How can you imagine, madam,” answered Booth, “I should have taken from
a poor fellow what was of so little consequence to me, and at the same
time of so much to him? Perhaps, now, you will derive this from the
passion of pride.”
“Indeed,” says she, “I neither derive it from the passion of pride nor
from the passion of folly: but methinks you should have accepted the
offer, and I am convinced you hurt him very much when you refused it.
But pray proceed in your story.” Then Booth went on as follows:
“As Amelia recovered her health and spirits daily, we began to pass our
time very pleasantly at Montpelier; for the greatest enemy to the French
will acknowledge that they are the best people in the world to live
amongst for a little while. In some countries it is almost as easy to
get a good estate as a good acquaintance. In England, particularly,
acquaintance is of almost as slow growth as an oak; so that the age of
man scarce suffices to bring it to any perfection, and families seldom
contract any great intimacy till the third, or at least the second
generation. So shy indeed are we English of letting a stranger into our
houses, that one would imagine we regarded all such as thieves. Now the
French are the very reverse. Being a stranger among them entitles you to
the better place, and to the greater degree of civility; and if you wear
but the appearance of a gentleman, they never suspect you are not one.
Their friendship indeed seldom extends as far as their purse; nor is
such friendship usual in other countries. To say the truth, politeness
carries friendship far enough in the ordinary occasions of life, and
those who want this accomplishment rarely make amends for it by their
sincerity; for bluntness, or rather rudeness, as it commonly deserves to
be called, is not always so much a mark of honesty as it is taken to be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account