ART. III.-French Pictures of the English in the last Century.

The Savages of Europe. From the French. Printed by Dryden Leach, for T. Davies, in Russel-street, Covent Garden. London: 1764.

THE HE mistakes and prejudices which characterise French authors, when describing the manners of the English, are by no means paralleled by those of our writers when describing French ones. It is true that the vulgar stage type of a Frenchman, with his shrugs, his snuff-taking, and his diet of frogs, is as far from being a true version of the general character of the people as may be; but a vast deal of this false colouring is attributable to political motives; and, when they ceased to influence, the English travelled, judged for themselves, and the distorted pictures were banished from our stage and our literature. Not so with our Gallic neighbours, who found our habits and mode of life differ so much from theirs, that they turned repugnant from investigation below the surface of English life, and often believed and propagated the silliest absurdities. Considering the closeness of France and England, and the constant communication between the countries, this fact is not a little surprising, and that France should still possess a living author— Alexander Dumas-who has given full credence to every floating absurdity, and, in one of his most popular plays, introduced them as pictures of ordinary manners in England. Who that has ever seen his play, embodying imaginary adventures in the life of Kean, or read this mass of absurdity, but must have been astonished at the cool detail of moral impossibilities given there, at the caricature of English manners which forms the gist of the story, at the utter falsehood of the entire thing? The silly inventions of a century ago, founded in ignorance, distorted by prejudice, and passing current when war had interdicted intercourse, are there repeated in all their original strength, and with most amusing effrontery.

When Sully, the great minister of Henri IV, visited England in 1603, he managed to obtain a most unfavourable notion of his sovereign's ally, and has given our forefathers a fair share of vituperation. The constant wars carried on against the French forces, and the success of the English arms later in that century, aided in strengthening the national dislike, and gave any idle tale free admission and constant credence; the more immoral and absurd it the better it was liked; and its belief was encouraged by rulers

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who desired to foster hatred of England. During the wars which resulted from the Revolution of 1789 in France, it is perfectly true that the two nations misrepresented and vilified each other, but nowhere in English literature can we find the same determined mistakes or unadulterated slander as may be seen in the notes on England, published by General Pillet in 1815, after residing as a prisoner of war among ourselves! The work was published to please and serve Bonaparte, during his brief return to Paris in that year, but was afterwards rigidly suppressed by Louis XVIII; an act as well of justice as of gratitude towards a nation which had succoured him. The book is now a great rarity,* and we give a few extracts:

Drunkenness is a vice arising from the nature of the soil or climate, which is almost looked upon as a virtue in England."

Englishmen of the better class, or what are commonly called gentlemen, as well as those of the lower orders, are never amorous till they are drunk. Hence the women very naturally take under their special protection drunkards and drunkenness."

"The sons of George the Third, from the Prince Regent to the youngest brother, are by no means inferior to their countrymen in this respect. It is generally believed that the debauched habits of these princes originated in the manner of their education, planned by Lord Chatham, and followed up by William Pitt, his son, with the view of degrading their characters, rendering them unfit to govern, and preventing their interfering with the views of the oligarchy."

With regard to our general humanity as a nation, the veracious Pillet's fellow-countrymen are told-"Nothing is more common than to see carriages overturned upon the highways in England; but in such cases assistance must be far-fetched and dear bought. The passers-by, if there chance to be any, gaze stupidly on for a moment, and then proceed on their way."

With regard to our morals, he says:-" England is a country in which virtue and vice are saleable commodities, and every man deals in that which he thinks the most profitable of the two. The principles of the government are precisely similar." He gives an example of this morality, which originates in a most ludicrous mistake of his own :-"Theft is even a fashionable accomplishment, particularly amongst women of rank, who are accustomed every morning to go shopping, as they term it."

* The title of the book runs thus :-L'Angleterre, vue à Londres, et dans ses provinces, pendant un séjour de dix années, dont six comme prisonnier de guerre. Par M. le Maréchal-de-Camp Pillet, Chevalier de St. Louis, et officier de la Légion d'Honneur. Paris, chez Alexis Eymery, Libraire, Rue Mazarine, No. 30.-1815, 8vo, pp. 849.

He accounts for what he terms "the immense consumption of women in England," by saying, "There are few men who have reached the age of fifty without having three wives." Such "consumption" being effected by ill-treatment, which "has arrived at such a pitch, that the murder of a woman by her husband is a circumstance of which the courts of justice seldom take any notice, unless to acquit the husband, when the affair has been so atrocious that an inquiry into it is unavoidable." The General's gallantry, however, induces him to say, that "it ought to be mentioned, for the honour of the female sex, that murders of husbands by their wives are far less common in England than those of wives by their husbands. They are, nevertheless, very numerous, and in a proportion which would excite universal horror amongst any other people."

This carelessness about human life, as well as another trait in English character, is thus amusingly illustrated in a Paris newspaper of the last century:-" A man fell into the Thames. He struggled and endeavoured to swim, but he swam badly. Will he reach the bank?—will he be drowned? There was at once a wager. Twenty guineas were laid that he would save himself;-this was taken. The bets increased and multiplied, and in two minutes considerable sums were depending on the head of the poor swimmer. He was, however, perceived by some watermen, who rowed towards him, with the intention of saving him. There is a bet! there is a bet!' was bawled out from every quarter. At these magical words the boatmen stopped, the unfortunate man was drowned, and the bet was gained."

These, and many similar characterizations of the English, may be traced as the growth of centuries. An embodiment of all our manners and customs, under the form of a tale, unrivalled for its absurdity, may be found in a work entitled, 'Les Sauvages d'Europe,' the said savages being ourselves. This little work was translated and published in 1764, but is now rare; we shall detail its structure, and give some extracts, as it is a capital exponent of continental belief at that time, and contains some opinions yet held there.

The author begins, by narrating that two young lovers, disgusted by the gay badinage of Paris concerning their union, determine to visit "the land of freedom"-England, and become acquainted on ship-board with a venerable Chinese, who was travelling to the same place, " to civilize the people." They enter into conversation, and become travelling companions. On landing at Dover, the first thing they see is a number of French captives,

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greatly ill-treated by the people. They fly to the rescue; but are attacked with swords and fists, and ultimately carried to a dungeon, from which they are aided to escape by some Dutch sailors:-"They set out immediately for London, Delouaville with his body beat to mummy, and his arm in a scarf; Kin Foe without his full complement of teeth; and Cecilia with not quite the same quantity of ear as she brought out of France."

After a quarrel with an insolent and surly driver—

They alighted from their wretched carriage at an inn, the air of which was as gloomy as the countenances of the English, who were regaling themselves within. It was with great difficulty that they could perceive, here and there, a light piercing through the mingled smoke of their coal, and of their pipes.-A party of these smokers were sullenly drinking a kind of dusky liquor out of the same bowl.-The other side of the room was taken up by dirty tables, at which select parties were devouring slices of beef, half raw, and almost unaccompanied with any bread at all. This disgusting object took away the appetites of our strangers.-They ate very little,-paid a great deal, slept very indifferently, and got up very early to ramble through the streets of London."

In the course of their walk they inquire the way to St. James'sPark, of a person, who, "happening to be of a mild disposition, only laughed in their face, and walked about his business." They are still worse treated by others, so they ramble on until they reach Tyburn.

"Their eyes were now presented with the spectacle of a gallows, a pile of faggots, and scaffolds crowded with spectators, who were prepared to enjoy a bloody execution, in all its horrors. The gloomy and silent air of the standers-by, would have made one imagine that the punishment was intended for every one of them; while, on the other hand, the criminals seemed, by their gaiety and easy behaviour, to think themselves on a party of pleasure. They played off jokes, and seemed to endeavour to amuse the people by their low buffooneries. One of them made a grave harangue, in which he applauded his own courage, and boasted of the many travellers whose purses and lives had been sacrificed to his gallantry; and he exaggerated the greatness of these exploits, which had conducted him to this glorious end; while another, less eloquent, accompanied his comrade with ridiculous gestures. This absurd pair gave some idea of those scenes among the ancients, where one actor repeated the speech, while another supplied it with action. A third malefactor took it in his head to prophesy;-he predicted his own approaching death, (in which he was pretty sure not to be out) and he denounced the ruin of England. Unfortunate country! (cried he with an emphasis) wretched city! What do I foresee? The sea vomits on thy shores an army of flatbottomed boats! they kill man, woman, and child!--The outlandish men beat the masters of the sea! Woe to Old England! Woe to London! Woe to myself!' At this instant the fatal cord stopped the prophet's rhapsody. His worthy companions suffered the same fate. The standers-by immediately flung themselves upon them; hung to their legs, struck them on the

breast, and took every method to dispatch them:-not an Englishman present but eagerly endeavoured to perform the duty of the hangman: the very relations of the criminals assisted at this pleasing task with as much spirit as any."

They charitably suppose that these are but the amusements of the canaille, so they go to a theatre, to see what is done there; but, alas! it happens to be a place where the professors of the noble art of self-defence exercise with swords, and hack each other frightfully, to the great joy of the spectators. They all decamp, and reach a dramatic theatre at last; but the play has so many barbarities in it, "with murders, ghosts, death's heads, scaffolds, wheels, gibbets, accompanied by a due number of executioners, that they fear they are again at Tyburn." This is succeeded by a ballet, which being executed by French dancers occasions a mutiny among the audience, who demolish the theatre, and our trio again narrowly escape with

life.

Delouaville, the hero, makes

Dangers of another kind now occur. a conquest, as he thinks, of a fair lady, who entraps him into "a Fleet marriage," to his great horror, and that of her relations, who detest the French. He returns to the Mandarin, whom he finds half-dead, from the effects of a severe beating, given him in return for some "principles of humanity," which he had been preaching; and shortly afterwards is visited by his new wife, when a scene of violence takes place between the French lady and her, the former being the victor. Upon this, the English woman absconds, vowing revenge. The next day he is carried before a magistrate, who decides that he is lawfully married; and he is about to be carried off by his English spouse in triumph, when her relations again appear, and drag her with them. He returns home again, only to find his Cecilia has been carried off by force, by the father of his English wife, Fanny, who had gone there to search for his daughter, and being struck with Cecilia's appearance," the tender Englishman, to make her sensible of his passion, left no kind of outrage untried. The love of a Briton has the same way of showing itself as the hatred of other people." does not succeed, neither does Fanny with the Frenchman; and, in an agony of jealousy, she stabs him, and leaves him, as she supposes, dying; rushes home to her father, and beseeches him to destroy her.

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"The father stood for some time fixed in a gloomy silence; he embraced his daughter with a sullen composure, turned from her, and in his closet he gave himself up to these reflections :

My wretched conduct has ruined my family. My wife and children,