Lady Cecilia said she owed Beauclerc an acknowledgment down to her saddle-bow, for the compliment to her general, and a bow at least as low to Helen, for making her comprehend it; and, having paid both debts with graceful promptitude, she observed, in an aside to Beauclerc, that she quite agreed with him, that “In friendship it was good not to have to do with fools.”
He smiled.
“It is always permitted,” continued Cecilia, “to woman to use her intellects so far as to comprehend what man says; her knowledge, of whatever sort, never comes amiss when it serves only to illustrate what is said by one of the lords of the creation. Let us note this, my dear Helen, as a general maxim, for future use, and pray, since you have so good a memory, remember to tell mamma, who says I never generalise, that this morning I have actually made and established a philosophical maxim, one that may be of some use too, which cannot be said of all reflections, general or particular.”
They rode on through a lane bright and fragrant with primroses and violets; gradually winding, this lane opened at last upon the beautiful banks of the Thames, whose “silver bosom” appeared at once before them in the bright sunshine, silent, flowing on, seeming, as Beauclerc said, as if it would for ever flow on unaltered in full, broad, placid dignity. “Here,” he exclaimed, as they paused to contemplate the view, “the throng of commerce, the ponderous barge, the black steam-boat, the hum and din of business, never have violated the mighty current. No lofty bridge insultingly over-arches it, no stone-built wharf confines it; nothing but its own banks, coeval with itself and like itself, uncontaminated by the petty uses of mankind!—they spread into large parks, or are hung with thick woods, as nature wills. No citizen’s box, no chimera villa destroys the idea of repose; but nature, uninterrupted, carries on her own operations in field, and flood, and tree.”
The general, less poetically inclined, would name to Helen all the fine places within view—“Residences,” as he practically remarked, “such as cannot be seen in any country in the world but England; and not only fine places such as these, but from the cottage to the palace—‘the homes of Old England’ are the best homes upon earth.”
“The most candid and sensible of all modern French travellers,” said Beauclerc, “was particularly struck with the superiority of our English country residences, and the comfort of our homes.”
“You mean M. de Staël?” said the general; “true English sense in that book, I allow.”
When the general and Beauclerc did agree in opinion about a book, which was not a circumstance of frequent occurrence, they were mutually delighted; one always feeling the value of the other’s practical sense, and the other then acknowledging that literature is good for something. Beauclerc in the fulness of his heart, and abundance of his words, began to expatiate on M. de Staël’s merits, in having better than any foreigner understood the actual workings and balances of the British constitution, that constitution so much talked of abroad, and so little understood.
“So little understood any where,” said the general.
Reasonably as Beauclerc now spoke, Helen formed a new idea of his capacity, and began to think more respectfully even of his common sense, than when she had heard him in the Beltravers cause. He spoke of the causes of England’s prosperity, the means by which she maintains her superiority among nations—her equal laws and their just administration. He observed, that the hope which every man born in England, even in the lowest station, may have of rising by his own merits to the highest eminence, forms the great spring of industry and talent. He agreed with the intelligent foreigner’s observation, that the aristocracy of talent is superior in England to the aristocracy of birth.