"a faithful servant like him is an acquisition to any family"

Finals are pretty much done. I'm in the last week of my second to last term. And I'm reading for fun again!

And there is something that has been on my mind all through the time I was trying to write papers on governmental and non-profit accounting. And that is how Parsons shows the servants, who are all incredibly devoted to their ladies because the ladies they serve are "the best and most courageous lady I ever saw in my life" and such a "sweet creature."

(Okay. I've been analyzing things too much lately and am in an academic frame of mind. I'll get over it by tomorrow.)

Parsons manages to show both the servants' thoughts and the thoughts of the ladies about the servants. The ladies, Mathilda and our mystery woman, congratulate each other on having loyal servants and make the statement in the title.  The servants are an acquisition. That sense of entitlement and practically ownership. Such as when "Matilda expressed her satisfaction that the lady had such a faithful servant." Which is just as nice as a faithful dog, but better because a faithful servant brings you tea and hides your very existence from your horrible husband.

But at the same time, Parsons gives us these moments where she shows the reader what the servant is thinking. Their reasoning. And even at one point, their grief. Even though we never see the old servant from the castle again, Parsons still spends a bit of time showing him grieving the death of his wife (the Count burned the castle with her inside) and what happens after than, letting the reader know that he ends up okay. (Which is good. I rather liked him.)

But my favorite moment of these is a funny one. It's back when Matilda is being brave and sleeping upstairs in spite of the ghosts. Albert decides he's not brave enough for that and decides to sleep below stairs, figuring he'll be safe there. Because "as they were ghosts of quality, who never condescended to visit kitchens, he thought himself perfectly safe, on the ground floor."

And now, I'm not quite done with these classes, even if it is a light week, so it's about time I finish up that homework.

"I consider the English as the happiest people under the sun"

We interrupt this story for some author patriotism.

Pages and pages of it.

One of the characters has just come back from a trip to England and his friends ask how the trip was.

He goes off into raptures on the people (naturally brave, friendly, and benevolent), the government (they enjoy the blessings of a mild and free government), the laws (their personal safety is secured by the laws), the court of law (no man can be punished for an imaginary crime, they have fair trials). And on and on and on....

                             .....And on and on and on.

The nobility (generous and benevolent), merchants (rich and respectable), politicians (perfectly acquainted with the government of different nations, as much as of their own), and laws against gambling (a habit that dissipates fortunes, distresses families, hardens the heart, depraves the mind, and renders useless all the good qualities they receive from nature).  But wait!  There's more!

"What I most admire in the English, is the great encouragement given to all manufactories, and to all useful discoveries."  The generosity to the poor.  The greatness of the economy.  The public buildings, the entertainment and the performers.

And the ladies, of course!  "The English women, take them all in all, are more fascinating than any other nation I ever saw."

All this coming from a Frenchman at a time when the English and French went to war every twenty to thirty years.  They were fighting each other again at the point the book was published.  I can suspend belief for a lot of things, but a room full of French nobility all happily discussing the superiority of the English in 1792 and everyone agrees on this is just ridiculous.

But it is a great excuse to find every image of Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry that I can and shove them all into one post.

Also, will be a bit slow in posting.  Having some vacation and fun time.  See you soon!

The Hero Is Shot! ......and the Heroine Faints

Believe me when I tell you, Dear Reader, I spoil nothing when I tell you this, though it is more funny than horrid.  Valencourt is shot (I won't tell you the whys and what-fors of that occurrence) and M. St. Aubert is frantically trying to stop the bleeding. There is no one else about so he calls to Emily for assistance only to find that she has "sunk on the seat in a fainting fit." How useful of her!

St. Aubert, now even more frantic, leaves poor Valencourt to help his helpless, dainty daughter. Then "the subject of his alarm changed again" as Valencourt, still bleeding, has run up to help Emily and thereby made himself worse! So St. Aubert is running between the injured man and the unconscious woman so that "he scarcely knew what he did."


Fainting Fit Count: 1