I know a general prejudice has gone forth, that the French are all
mere outside, without any deep reflection or emotion. This may be true
of many. No doubt that the strength of that outward life, that
acuteness of the mere perceptive organization, and that tendency to
social exhilaration, which prevail, will incline to such a fault in
many cases. An English reserve inclines to moroseness, and Scotch
perseverance to obstinacy; so this aerial French nature may become
levity and insincerity; but then it is neither the sullen Englishman,
the dogged Scotchman, nor the shallow Frenchman that we are to take as
the national ideal. In each country we are to take the very best as
the specimen.
Now, it is true that, here in France, one can find people as
judicious, quiet, discreet, and religious, as any where in the world;
with views of life as serious, and as earnest, not living for pretence
or show, but for the most rational and religious ends. Now, when all
this goodness is silvered over, as it were, reflecting like mother-of-pearl
or opal, a thousand fanciful shades and changes, is not the result
beautiful? Some families into which I have entered, some persons with
whom I have talked, have left a most delightful impression upon my mind;
and I have talked, by means of imperfect English, French, and
interpretations, with a good many.
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