Vous n’avez pas à faire a des ingrats, Monsieur le Colonel, said Fanchon. My husband, continued she, is more affected with your goodness, that he was by the loss of his leg, or the cruelty of my relations.—She then, in a serious manner, with the voice of gratitude, and in the language of Nature, expressed her own and her husband’s obligations to the Marquis; and, amongst others, she alluded to twenty louis which her husband had received de sa part that very afternoon.—You intend to make a saint of a sinner, my dear, said the Marquis, and to succeed the better, you invent false miracles. I know nothing of the twenty louis you mention.—But I know a great deal; for here they are in my pocket, says Dubois.—The Marquis still insisted they had not come from him. The soldier then declared, that he had called about one o’clock, to pay his duty to Monsieur de F——; but not finding him at home, he was returning to his lodgings, when, in the street, he observed a gentleman looking at him with attention, who soon accosted him, demanding if his name was not Dubois? If he had not lost his leg at Corsica? and several other questions, which being answered in the affirmative, he slipped twenty louis into his hand, telling him that it would help to furnish his house.—Dubois in astonishment had exclaimed—Mon Dieu! voilà encore Monsieur de F——. Upon which the stranger had replied:—Yes, he sends you that, by me: and immediately he turned into another street, and Dubois saw no more of him.
We were all equally surprised at the singularity of this little adventure. On enquiring more particularly about the appearance of the stranger, I was convinced he could be no other than B——.
I remembered he had been affected with the story of Dubois when I told it him. You know B—— is not one of those, who allow any emotions of that nature to pass unimproved, or to evaporate in sentiment. He generally puts them to some practical use.—So having met Dubois accidentally in the street, he had made him this small present, in the manner above related; and on his understanding that Dubois and Fanchon were at F——’s, he had declined going, to avoid any explanation on the subject.
Had our friend B—— been a man of system, or much reflection, in his charity, he would have considered, that as the soldier had already been taken good care of, and was under the protection of a generous man, there was no call for his interfering in the business; and he would probably have kept his twenty guineas for some more pressing occasion.
There are men in the world (and very useful and most respectable men no doubt they are), who examine the pro’s and the con’s before they decide, upon the most indifferent occasion; who are directed in all their actions by propriety, and by the general received notions of duty. They weigh, in the nicest scales, every claim that an acquaintance, a relation, or a friend may have on them; and they endeavour to pay them on demand, as they would a bill of exchange. They calculate their income, and proportion every expence; and hearing it asserted every week from the pulpit, that there is exceeding good interest to be paid one time or other, for the money that is given to the poor, they risk a little every year upon that venture. Their passions, and their affairs are always in excellent order; they walk through life undisturbed by the misfortunes of others. And when they come to the end of their journey, they are decently interred in a church-yard.
There is another set of men, who never calculate; for they are generally guided by the heart, which never was taught arithmetic, and knows nothing of accounts. Their heads have scarcely a vote in the choice of their acquaintances; and without the consent of the heart, most certainly none in their friendships. They perform acts of benevolence, without recollecting that this is a duty, merely for the pleasure they afford; and perhaps forget them, as they do their own pleasures, when past.
As for little occasional charities, these are as natural to such characters as breathing; and they claim as little merit for the one as for the other, the whole seeming an affair of instinct rather than of reflection.
That the first of these two classes of men is the most useful in society; that their affairs will be conducted with most circumspection; that they will keep out of many scrapes and difficulties that the others may fall into; and that they are (if you insist upon it very violently) the most virtuous of the two, I shall not dispute: Yet for the soul of me I cannot help preferring the other; for almost all the friends I have ever had in my life, are of the second class.