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.
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