Here is blasphemy. I, a Dutchman, dare say this: the French possess neither the true pleasures of conversation nor the true pleasures of the theatre; instead of relaxation and complete unrestraint, they mean hard labour. Among the sources of fatigue which hastened on the death of Mme. de Staël I have heard counted the strain of conversation during her last winter.[1]
[1] Memoirs of Marmontel, Montesquieu's conversation.
LXXIII
The degree of tension of the nerves in the ear, necessary to hear each note, explains well enough the physical part of one's pleasure in music.
LXXIV
What degrades rakish women is the opinion, which they share with the public, that they are guilty of a great sin.
LXXV
In an army in retreat, warn an Italian soldier of a danger which it is no use running—he'll almost thank you and he'll carefully avoid it. If, from kindness, you point out the same danger to a French soldier, he'll think you're defying him—his sense of honour is piqued, and he runs his head straight against it. If he dared, he'd like to jeer at you. (Gyat, 1812.)
LXXVI
In France, any idea that can be explained only in the very simplest terms is sure to be despised, even the most useful. The Monitorial system[(43)], invented by a Frenchman, could never catch on. It is exactly the opposite in Italy.