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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
Arthur Murphy
The Englishman
from Paris
_(1756)_
_Introduction by_
Simon Trefman
PUBLICATION NUMBER 137
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
1969
GENERAL EDITORS
William E. Conway, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
David S. Rodes, _University of California, Los Angeles_
ADVISORY EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
Earl Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Lawrence Clark Powell, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
James Sutherland, _University College, London_
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
Mary Kerbret, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
Arthur Murphy's afterpiece, _The Englishman From Paris_, was given its
first and last performance at Drury Lane on 3 April 1756. According to
the prompter's account the play "went off well," and the receipts for
the night, £240, indicate that a large audience attended.[1] However,
despite these optimistic signs, Murphy never published the play nor did
he allow it to be presented again on any stage. It is even possible that
Murphy tried to destroy all traces of it; for the Lord Chamberlain's
copy from which this edition is printed was not found in the usual
depository, the Larpent Collection. Instead, the manuscript got in the
hands of private collectors, was wrongly ascribed to Samuel Foote, and
was sold in a series of auctions as an unconsidered part of a lot of
rare biblical and Shakesperian items.[2] In this manner the play finally
came into the possession of the Newberry Library where it eventually was
correctly catalogued, but its adventitious provenance is marked by it
being the only manuscript play in the collection.
[1] _The London Stage_ 1660-1800, ed. George Winchester Stone, Jr.
(Carbondale, Ill., 1962), Part 4, II, 536. I would like to thank
the Newberry Library for permission to reproduce this previously
unpublished manuscript of Murphy's _Englishman From Paris_.
[2] Simon Trefman, "Arthur Murphy's Long Lost _Englishman From
Paris_: A Manuscript Discovered," _Theatre Notebook_, XX (Summer
1966), 137-138.
Certainly one important reason for Murphy's reticence to exhibit his
play can be found in the events leading up to its production. Samuel
Foote, who at this time was known as a comic actor and a writer of
farces, was a close friend of Murphy's and in the summer of 1754, when
Murphy was short of money, had taken him into his house. He encouraged
the young Murphy to become an actor, gave him lessons, and, no doubt,
was useful in getting him started in his new career at Covent Garden.
The following summer saw Murphy in far better circumstances. Garrick
articled him to act as a replacement for Mossop and also scheduled
Murphy's first farce, _The Apprentice_, for production that same season.
In a gush of confidence, Murphy told Foote, whose help and encouragement
had borne such fruit, of his plans for a new farce. He was going to
write a sequel to one of Foote's plays, _The Englishman in Paris_ (C. G.
24 March 1753), a popular farce that satirized the boorish antics of a
young English squire in a country where politeness is the mode.
Murphy's idea was to show this blood returned to England as a
Frenchified effeminate fop at odds with his family and former friends.
Foote listened closely as Murphy gave him the plot and even some of the
dialogue. Then, thinking that no one had a better right to a sequel than
the author of the original, Foote, keeping his own counsel, wrote _The
Englishman Return'd From Paris_ in time for the new season.[3]
[3] William Cooke, _Memoirs of Samuel Foote_ (London, 1805), I,
72-73.
Although Foote was accused of plagiarism by Murphy and then by others
who had not seen the play, the charge was not strictly true. There are
general similarities because both plays are based upon the same idea,
and, if one looks closely, certain jokes and other bits of dialogue are
too alike to be accidental. It is also possible that Crab of Foote's
play was developed from certain characteristics of Quicksett. Yet on the
whole, Foote's plot, characterization, and dialogue are so distinctly
different from Murphy's that Foote can be given credit for writing his
own play. The attitudes of both writers towards their objects of satire
were entirely different. Foote wrote a wild and whimsical farce where
much of the humor is slapstick. Murphy's play is a carefully worked out
comedy where extreme behavior of any kind is gently ridiculed.
Despite Foote's desire for secrecy while getting his play ready for
production, Murphy would be sure to hear the news as soon as plans were
given out for costumes, sets, and rehearsals. His first response to
Foote's betrayal of their friendship was to publish anonymously _The
Spouter: or, the Triple Revenge_. This unplayed farce was probably
published in late January, a week or two before Foote's play was to be
shown. In an understandable but scurrilous rage, Murphy vilified Foote
(as Dapperwit) using all the advantages of a once close friendship. In
addition to being accused of plagiarism, Foote had all his personal
foibles held up to public ridicule. Though an able and often eager
controversialist, Foote made no reply but slyly advertised that his play
would open 3 February at Covent Garden and would be "a New Farce Sequel
to _The Englishman in Paris_, by the same author." The audience's
response to Foote's version justified Murphy's worst apprehensions; it
proved to be a brilliant success and was played nineteen times that
season.[4]
[4] Stone, II, 524, et passim.
It seems probable that Murphy did not plan to bring out his new play
that season because he had already introduced _The Apprentice_ (D.L. 2
January 1756). But he was an irascible man and it was undoubtedly
galling to watch Foote reap fame and fortune on his idea. Providing
himself some small measure of satisfaction and thinking he had little to
lose, Murphy made plans to give the play at least one performance on his
benefit night as an actor (he had already been given a benefit as an
author) and to alter some parts of the play to expose further Foote's
duplicity.
Although he did not act in the play, Murphy spoke the prologue which
bemoaned the fate of the dramatist:
Shall he consult his friends?--when once 'tis shown
If some friends like, they make the _hint_ their own.[5]
[5] _Literary Magazine_ (15 March-15 April 1756), I, 29.
Two contemporaries also quote a last minute addition that is not in the
manuscript of the play. Foote's Englishman, Buck, probably dressed
similarly to Foote who played the role, appears on stage to say: "O Yes!
I grant you there has been an _imposter_ about town, who with easy
familiarity and assurance, has stolen my writings, &c.; and not only
thus treacherously robbed, but impudently dared to assume my very name
even to my face; but I am the true Charles Buck, I assure you."[6] The
manuscript too makes a reference to Foote's plagiarism when Bob Wildfire
and Harry Foxchase ask Jack if he had seen Buck in his travels. This
part too is probably a late insertion for it is irrelevant to the plot
and the characters.
[6] Cooke, I, 74-75; and Tate Wilkinson, _Memoirs of His Own Life_
(York, 1790), II, 71-72.
Interestingly enough, Murphy's sequel is based on different characters
from those appearing in Foote's play, but it is closer in spirit to the
original than Foote's own sequel. Murphy's is an ironic and gentle
comedy that at first glance seems to be chauvinistically anti-French and
pro-English, reflecting public sentiment prior to the outbreak of the
Seven-Years' War with France. Though the climax of the plot is the fop's
rejection of French affectations (and Murphy made sure that the French
dogs did not get the best of it), English brutality and intolerance are
also exposed; and care is taken that nothing irrevocable is done so that
there is room for reformation on both sides. Foote's sequel, unlike his
original, is a fast-paced, almost brutal farce that depends on slapstick
and whimsy for belly laughs. Foote did pay some lip service to the
superiority of English manners and morals, but he was more interested in
getting his audience to laugh than to applaud. Murphy's play is more
serious, more sensible, and more tolerant than Foote's, but it would
suffer in comparison with the livelier play. Murphy's realization of
this inevitable comparison would probably be a strong reason for him to
disown his play.
Murphy's attitude is exemplified by his characters. Except for Florid,
none of them is truly treacherous or malicious; though some may be
foolish and intolerant, they are not beyond redemption. Characters that
represent simple-minded patriotic attitudes--such as Quicksett, Roger,
and The Mob--were likely to be cheered by the galleries; but the more
judicious part of the audience would have been able to recognize their
naivety and inflexibility. Quicksett as a no-nonsense John Bull squire
may serve to draw Jack Broughton out to his foppish worst, but he is
also too set in his ways to appreciate anything beyond his own narrow
views of property and propriety. Roger, the servant, is sincere in
hating his French compeers, and his thrashing of the French servants
undoubtedly elicited applause; but his limited understanding is also
held up to ridicule.
On the other side, Abbé Millamour, who is writing a book of observations
on the English nation, is Murphy's response to Jean Bernard Le Blanc, a
French Abbé whose published comments on the English did not endear him
to that people.[7] Though the Abbé is made an object of laughter, he is
allowed to come to an understanding of the English virtues, and he
praises them at the end of the play.
[7] Jean Bernard Le Blanc, _Lettres d'un François_ (Hague, 1745).
See George R. Havens, "The Abbé Le Blanc and English
Literature," _MP_, XVIII (1920), 79-97.
Florid's role in the play is more ambiguous than that of the other
characters. As a false philosopher who spouts nonsense, he represents
an affectation that is universal rather than national. Murphy, by
placing him in Jack's entourage as a tutor and by having Florid claim
that his theories are partly French, does put him on the French side.
But it is also clear from references made to "characteristics,"
"plastic nature," "systems of harmony," and the like that he is a
Shaftesburian. Furthermore, Florid's "gay contempt" as a reaction to
"the motley Livery of incongruous Appearances" is a paraphrase of some
lines of _The Pleasures of the Imagination_ by Mark Akenside, the
Shaftesburian poet.[8] Florid's incomprehensible spoutings can be seen
as mocking Akenside's turgid and abstract style, but I do not think
that Murphy meant to be taken seriously in this caricature of the poet.
A few years earlier in his _Gray's Inn Journal_, Murphy had shown
himself appreciative of the works of Akenside and Shaftesbury;[9] and
Murphy does not lampoon Akenside's personality as Smollett had done in
_Peregrine Pickle_ (1751). Furthermore, though Murphy mocks the concept
that ridicule is the test of truth by Florid's defense, this
Shaftesburian idea that Akenside vigorously upheld is approved of in
another play by Murphy, _Know Your Own Mind_. This time the hypocrite
Malvil, when exposed by ridicule, insists that it is no fair test of
truth. Perhaps, because of Murphy's recent familiarity with the poet
and the philosopher, he saw a possibility of raising a laugh through
parody, but he never meant to indicate his disapproval of either man.
[8] Mark Akenside, _Pleasures of the Imagination_ (London, 1744),
pp. 105-107.
[9] _Gray's Inn Journal_ (London, 1756), Nos. 10, 44, 45, 46, 57,
90, 96, 98. In 45 and 90 Murphy quotes passages from Akenside
with great approval, including one that is later parodied by
Florid.
Murphy's play is a plea for good sense--for all classes of society to
avoid extreme behavior. The upper classes tend to be affected or
unthinking, boorish pranksters; the lower classes can degenerate into a
brutal, capricious mob. Murphy shows that there is room in the English
way of life for tolerance, good sense, and patriotism. There was a need
for this view in 1756 when riots against the French were common, and it
took some skill to write a play that seemed to confirm national
prejudices at the beginning and thus insure a hearing and to end by
gently exposing those prejudices to ridicule. Had Murphy not been
disheartened by Foote's competition, this play might have had its share
of success.
In trying to retain the flavor of the manuscript, I have altered mainly
those aspects which would interfere with an easy comprehension of the
piece. To that end I have broken up run-on sentences when it seemed to
me that the point was lost in the ramble, though when the meaning was
clear I made no changes, because the lack of a full stop preserved the
natural flow of spoken words. The dashes were also kept when they gave
an indication of the rhythm and flow of dialogue, but when the meaning
became confused other punctuation was substituted to preserve the sense.
The erratic capitalization of the play was kept for nouns and compound
nouns, but capitals always replaced lower case letters for the first
letter of a sentence. The original eighteenth-century spelling was
retained, but obvious misspellings were corrected. The mangled French of
Jack, who is not supposed to be fluent in that language, was not
touched, but the French of the Abbé and the French servants was
corrected. All stage directions have been given in parentheses, and
legible but crossed out sections of dialogue in italics. All editorial
insertions have been placed within brackets.
Queensborough Community College,
The City University of New York
THE ENGLISHMAN FROM PARIS[10]
* * * * *
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
SIR ROBERT BROUGHTON Mr. Burton
JACK BROUGHTON Mr. Woodward
QUICKSETT, _A Country Gentleman, Father
to Harriet_ Mr. Bransby
FLORID, _A Philosopher and Tutor to young
Broughton_ Mr. Yates
M. MILLAMOUR, _A French Abbé_ Mr. Blakes
BOB WILDFIRE Mr. Palmer
HARRY FOXCHASE Mr. Beard
ROGER Mr. Clough
SIDEBOARD Mr. Jefferson
FRENCH SERVANTS, MOB, ETC.
LADY BETTY MOCKMODE Mrs. Clive
HARRIET, _Daughter to Quicksett_ Miss Miles[11]
[10] The manuscript is dated 29 March 1756, as part of the
following note to the Licenser signed by Garrick and Lacy:
"Sir/ This farce we intend to have perform'd at our Theatre
if it meets with the Approbation of my Lord Chamberlain.
from yr humble servants/D. Garrick & J. Lacy." Directly
above this note in another hand is written "by Samuel
Foote."
[11] Miss Miles who was to have played Harriet was replaced by
Miss Minors according to the playbill in Stone, II, 536.
ACT the 1st
(SIR ROBERT BROUGHTON _and_ MR. QUICKSETT)
_Quicksett._ Why as to that matter, Sir Robert, I esteem you as
my old Acquaintance, and I had as soon marry my Daughter into
Sir Robert Broughton's Family, as any Family in England.
_Sir Robert._ I flatter myself Mr. Quicksett you can have no
reason to blush at the alliance; and then as the young Couple have
known one another from their Infancy, and as both our Estates lie
contiguous--
_Quicksett._ Why, as you say, the match in some respects may
be a prudent match--your Estate is a fine one, and when Neighbor
Hodge's Lease, and Barnaby Guzzledown's, and two or three more
of them fall in--but I forgot to tell you, your old Horse Regulus is
dead--I saw him last week--he was a fine Animal in his Time. He
was a great while drooping, and he died without a groan.
_Sir Robert._ So my Steward writes me. But Mr. Quicksett, this
is wandering from the Point--my Son--
_Quicksett._ Is a mere Coxcomb, I hear, since I came to Town--I
have no Opinion of your French Education.
_Sir Robert._ Dear Sir, it is the best thing in the World to reform
youth.
_Quicksett._ I don't know that Sir Robert; I have seen a great many
hopefull, promising young Men, come home such mere Ragouts. I'll tell
you what, Sir Robert--I was hugely pleas'd with one Inscription I once
read in a country church-yard. "Here lies John Trott, an honest Man
who was never out of his own Country."
_Sir Robert._ Nay, nay, but I tell you, all accounts from Paris
speak very well of the young Man.
_Quicksett._ Well, well, seeing is believing--I come up to Town
on purpose to be present at the Wedding, and now I am here, I don't
know what to say to it. I thank you, however, for your care of my
daughter, she has been but a Troublesome Baggage, I fear, here in
your House so long.
_Sir Robert._ So agreeable, that I'm not fond of parting with her.
_Quicksett._ Why does not the young Man appear then? I want
to see him.
_Sir Robert._ I have sent upstairs for him--he'll be here presently.
_Quicksett._ I don't know how to say it--he's but just arriv'd
as I may say, and he's the Town-talk already.
(_Enter_ SIDEBOARD)
_Sideboard._ My young Master is not stirring yet, Sir.
_Quicksett._ Not stirring at this time o' day?
_Sir Robert._ Nay, there's nothing in that--he has not recover'd
from his Fatigue--but there's his governor yonder. He can give
an account of him--call him in Sideboard. The Truth of the matter
is, I have not seen much of him myself, but by all accounts--O,
here comes Mr. Florid--Mr. Florid, they say is a particular sort of
Philosopher that talks much of characteristicks, I don't well understand
what characteristicks are, but he is a well spoken Man. O,
here he comes.
(_Enter_ FLORID)
_Florid._ Sir Robert, I hope I see you with your Spirits in due
Harmony, and all your Affections in proper ballance.
_Sir Robert._ I am very well, I thank you, if you mean that--Mr.
Florid, this is Mr. Quicksett.
_Florid._ The warmth of my Affections, Sir Robert, gives an instantaneous
glow to my Spirits, and I behold your Friend with Congenial
Feelings, and all the Impulse of Sympathetic Raptures. Sir,
your most Obedient.
_Quicksett._ Sir, your Servant--I am a plain spoken Man, lookye,
downright, and honest--my intended Son-in-Law, I find has been
under your Care. I should be glad to hear from you that he has
taken up a little, and sowed his wild Oats, as I may say.
_Florid._ Dear Sir, such an alteration was never known. The
Senses in general, Sir, have been wrongly confin'd to the five Classes
of External Senses--there are, Sir, in Human Nature many other
Inlets of Perception--there is the Public Sense--the Private Sense--the
Sense of Honor--the Moral Sense--the Internal Sense--
_Quicksett._ Ay, but has he common Sense?
_Florid._ The Sensus Communis, or the Public Sense is the same
thing. Now Sir, there is an amazing Connexion between the Organs
of Bodily Sensation, and the Faculties of Moral Perception, and
there are certain Powers in Human Nature--which seem to be Intermediate--
_Quicksett._ Sir Robert, I don't rightly comprehend this.
_Florid._ Those Intermediate Powers have been stiled in general
the Powers of Imagination, which do not seem to have given
him an ardent propensity to the Mimetic Arts--but his faculties of
moral perception have given him the To Prepon, the Kalogathia of
the Greeks, Honestum of the Latins, the Sympathetic Regularity,
the Responsive Harmony--
_Quicksett._ Odds, my life, I had as soon be at a Foxchase without
ever seeing the Dogs, as hear all this without understanding a
Word.
_Sir Robert._ Mr. Florid, my Friend Quicksett is like myself a
plain spoken Man--cou'd not you tell him now in plain English that
the Boy is reform'd?
_Florid._ Dear Sir, that's the very thing I'm about--the young
Gentleman has really very delicate Sensations, and when I have
fixed in him certain determinations to be pleas'd with the complex
forms of Beauty, Regularity, Order, Harmony and Proportion--
_Quicksett._ I am very much obliged to you, Sir--but I am as
far to seek as ever. And so now I'll go to the coffeehouse and see
if the Papers mention the taking of any more French ships.
_Sir Robert._ Nay, but Mr. Quicksett--don't be in such a hurry,
my Son shall be call'd upon.
_Quicksett._ No, I won't disturb him--I'll call again in the Evening.
_Sir Robert._ Well, well, I'll step to the coffe house with you--will
you dine with us?
_Quicksett._ No, I am to dine with Sergeant Interrogatory in
Chancery Lane--but I'll call in the Evening.
_Florid._ You may make yourself perfectly easy about the young
Gentleman--you'll find every Word I have said to be true.
(_Exit Sir Robert and Quicksett_)
_Florid._ (_Alone_) I have already fixed a ridiculous Aposiation
of Ideas in my young Pupil's Mind concerning Marriage. If I can
bring him to decline it, I shall see whether I can't awaken Miss
Harriet's Affections in my own behalf--I have almost finish'd a
short Treatise upon Beauty, which I shall dedicate to her. I must
make all I can of this family; and then the pleasures of Imagination
will strike the Internal Sense with a finer Impulse, when some
Ideas of Property concur.
(_Enter_ SIDEBOARD)
_Sideboard._ My young Master's stirring Sir, and desires to
speak with you, Sir.
_Florid._ Honest Sideboard, I attend him. (_Exit_)
_Sideboard._ This House is nothing but a Scene of confusion,
I think, with all these French Parlevous about the House.
(_Enter_ ST. LOUIS _singing_)
_St. Louis._ La Guerre en Angleterre--hey--Bourguignon--La
Fleur, you must come upstair.
(_French Servants run across the Stage_)
_Sideboard._ I wish these fellows were out of the House--always
quarrelling with the Cook--and tossing up Ragouts and powdering
their Hair in the Kitchen--so friend Roger--
(_Enter_ ROGER)
_Roger._ Master Sideboard, a good Morning to you.
_Sideboard._ Good Morning, Roger. Why you're not chang'd in
your Travels abroad Roger.
_Roger._ No, Heav'n be prais'd, they cou'd not change me. Is
the Squire stirring yet?
_Sideboard._ Yes, and that chattering Frenchman is with him.
Pray, who is he?
_Roger._ O that's Mounsieur Abbé--the Squire has brought un
home with un to write Remarks, as I overheard un say, upon all
our Country Folk. He has learned English on purpose, and jabbers
from Morning to Night. Lord! When he was abroad, a used to dress
quite and clean in another manner, a was all over black with a silk
thing flowing behind, with a spruce Wig, and a black Patch on the
Crown of his head, as if a was one of your Sergeants at Law as one
may see upon circuit; but dear Heart, the Squire will be in a sad
frame presently when I tell un what news I got for un.
_Sideboard._ Why, what's the matter now?
_Roger._ I ha' been at the Coostum Hoose to get un things home
that he sent by long Sea from Calais but they are all siezed upon,
excepten some linnen and wearing Apparrell--Wounds! Says the
Coostum Hoose--Gentleman, your Master is an Enemy to his country,
to lay out so much Money abroad, and starve honest Tradesfolk
at Home, so there's the Devil to pay, a power of Embroidery
and Lace, and I don't know what all, seiz'd upon. (_Hurra without_)
Pray Master Sideboard, what may all that mean?
_Sideboard._ Why those are young Master's Companions before
he went abroad, they've heard he's come home, and so they're gather'd
about the Doors for joy--there's Bob Dare-devil, and Handsome
Billy, and Buckhorse and all the Fellows in Town, I think.
_Roger._ Ay, but they'll find un another sort of man now, I can
tell un that.
(_A knocking at the door and Enter a_ FOOTMAN)
_Footman._ Is Miss Harriet at Home?
_Sideboard._ Yes.
_Footman._ Lady Betty Mockmode--bring in the Chair.
_Chairman._ By your leave, set down.
_Lady Betty._ (_Comes out_) What can that rude canaille mean
by making a Rendezvous there to derange People of Condition? I
could almost fancy the Captain of the Ship has made a Mistake,
and landed me at the Cape of Good Hope among the Hottentots.
But where's Madamoiselle Harriet, where's Madamoiselle? (_Exit_)
_Chairman._ (_Rubbing his face_) The Devil set fire to her French
airs. I've carried her all the way to Grosvenor Square, and there
down Burlington Gardens, and then to St. James's Place--and then
here again, a man had better be a Horse nor a chairman at this rate.
Come, take out there, Paddy, we'll go and have a sup of the Craitur.
(_Exeunt_)
_Sideboard._ What did that Lady come over with your Master,
Roger?
_Roger._ Yes, and we had such a do with her--but don't you
remember her? Why that's she a Squire Wildfire was in love with--by
the by, I met Squire Wildfire and Squire Foxchase. I told un
Master was come, and they were main glad, and said they'd come
and see un. (_Exeunt_)
(_Scene_: JACK BROUGHTON'S _Apartment.
French Servants setting the Toilette_)
_Florid._ Ridicule being the Test of Truth, Monsieur Abbé, if
it brings into your Mind the motley Livery of incongruous Appearances;
I fancy your account of us when you publish your Remarks
on the English Nation, will strike Foreigners with a gay contempt.
_Abbé._ Monsieur, vous avez raison--but your Pupil--whence
is it gone?
_Florid._ Just stept out to speak with Roger, he'll be here again
instantaneously--I think between us both Monsieur Abbé, we have
made him a pretty Gentleman.
_Abbé._ Ah! Pour ça oui--I have given him notion how to live,
I have teach him a tousand leetle agrements--and den I have make
him widout Prejudices--qu'il na pas de prejugé.
_Florid._ There Monsieur l'Abbé, I have been chiefly Instrumental--I
have exploded all his former Notions made him acquainted
with Plastic Nature and have wandered with him in academic
Groves.
(_Enter_ JACK BROUGHTON)
_Jack._ Jarnie! Ventribleu! Que la preste m'etouffe--never tell me
Man--furies! Death and Rage! What! All my things siez'd upon at the
Custom House. I shall make my address to the Comptroller of the Finances
or the Fermiers Generaux--I'll commence a Procés Verbal--Florid, did
you ever hear of such a thing? Monsieur Abbé ayez pitié de moi--my
Embroideries, my Laces, my Silks, my Pompons for the Ladies, all siez'd
by the unmannerly Brutes--
_Abbé._ You call dis Liberty and Property, I tink in dis country.
_Jack._ Liberty and Property! Robbery and Arbitrary Powers to
strip a Gentleman at this rate! But rot 'em, they have been making
Piracies upon us for several Months past.
_Abbé._ Mais, ne vous derangez pas, Monsieur.
_Jack._ Non, mon cher Abbé Millamour--I'll not derange myself
about it.
_Abbé._ Ecoutez mon cher Enfant--you must be toujours gai;
and if par hazard, you are met en colère you must swear wid an air--que
la peste m'etouffe--ça ne vaut rien. But I give you a Book
of Oats made by a Swiss Officer, improve by an English Captain
of Marine and finish by a Gascon Abbé, who lose all his Money at
Trick-track.
_Jack._ Mon cher Abbé, you are too good.
_Florid._ And I shall dedicate you a System of the most refin'd
and true Philosophy--it is partly from the French, and I call it the
Theory of Agreeable Sensations.
_Jack._ That will give me a reputation for the Belles Lettres;
but come, let me see if my arrival is mentioned dans les Affiches--le
voila. "Yesterday arriv'd at his Father Sir Robert Broughton's
John Broughton, Esq. from his Travels abroad, and we hear that a
treaty of Marriage is on foot, and will speedily be consumated between
him and Miss Harriet Quicksett, a beautiful young Lady and
an Heiress." Pardie! C'est bien suprenant; do my dear Florid,
order my vis-a-vis, that I may go abroad and contradict this Rumor.
Matrimony is too plain a dish, and what I believe I shall never sit
down to--I possibly may go to an Ordinary, but that will only be
for a Smack and away--at least if I ever should take up with it, I
shall be sure to have it better season'd to my Palate, than mon
cher Pere intends. My dear Abbé, I have brought you to a strange
country.
_Abbé._ Pardie! Ver strange indeed! I have see for the times
a good deal. I have dine yesterday at a caffée--I know not what
you call--Monsieur D'Eschallot bring me dare. Monsieur D'Eschallot,
I assure you is ver prett Gentleman, and leave two tousand
livres devant, avec droit de chasse, behind him--avec droit de
chasse Monsieur; but by Gar I never see such dinner in all my Life.
"How do you do?--Very well tank you--What news?--Noting at all--My
service to you, to you, to you, to you" all de way down, and
ma foi, dey talk no more. And den, jarnie! Me was ver much surprise
to see my own Countrymen as unmannerly as de English--and
I scramble for de Soup and boulli--me was 'fraid to put my hand
to de dish, for fear amidst all de Knife and Fork, somebody in a
hurry help himself to my fingers.
_Jack._ O this Country is enough to ruin the manners of an Angel.
_Abbé._ And den I was at de play last night, Otello I tink was
de play--by Gar he vas in ver great Passion because he loose his
Handkercher--such play! It is one of Shakespeare I tink--
_Jack._ O le Barbare! Voltaire you know calls him a Drunken
Savage--un Savage enyorée!
_Abbé._ But by Gar me vas ver much please to see so many
naked Shoulder in de Box, and ma foi, to see some of the Ladies
paint as much by Gar as if dey be in Paris. But Monsieur de
Broughton tink upon vat I say to you about des Airs, des façons,
and de manières--you have already ver pretty French Manners--you
have de turn of de Head, de movement of de Shoulder, de geste,
de Look, de Inflexion de Voix; and pon my vor, you take snuff, you
smile, you whisper, comme à la cour de France.
_Jack._ Oh you flatter me--I wish I could obtain an Act of Parliament
to unnaturalize myself.
_Abbé._ Laisez moi faire, I make you in ver leetle time so dat nobody
know you, you have ver good Naturel; vous avez les graces en partage
Monsieur you have ver much grace, and den you must never tink, never
plodd--no Embarras about Sense. Il faut voltiger Monsieur--fly about
from one ting to an uder, talk ill of your Acquaintance, you must have
your leetle Bagatelle, your leetle Persiflage. An so now I go make my
memorandum of vat I see in dis country.
(_Enter_ ST. LOUIS)
_St. Louis._ Two coachmen below Stair want to speak vid you
Sir.
_Jack._ Coachmen! Why you know I'm provided, but it's rumour'd
about I'm arriv'd and the fellows are ambitious of being in my Service,
that they may see me give myself airs--let 'em come up. My
dear Abbé, you can't be too severe in your Remarks on the English
Nation.
_Abbé._ Laisez moi faire--I now go make my memorandum. Let
me see--de man dat preach to de Butcher every Sunday--yesterday
an Englishman hang himself, but dat is noting new. De preacher
at Moorfields--de Robin Hood Society--de dissertation at Macklin's
Room--de Mob at de Executions--'twill do ver well, and so Monsieur
de Broughton au revoir. Il faut voltiger Monsieur. (_Sings_)
Sans L'amour et sans ses charmes,
Tout languit dans l'univers. (_Exit_)
(_Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)
_Wildfire._ Ha! My Boy Jack! Give us your hand you queer Son of a Bitch.
_Foxchase._ How dost my Boy? I'm glad to see thee.
_Jack._ Pardie voila la mode d'Angleterre! St. Louis, did you not say
that two coachmen wanted to speak with me?
_St. Louis._ Pardonnez moi, Monsieur--me no know dat Gentlemen dress
like coachman in dis Country.
_Jack._ Let Roger attend the Door for the future--I'll keep him as a
Valet de place.
_Wildfire._ Ram my Eyes, the same comical Son of a Bitch he ever
was--mimicking the French--Scoundrels. Come speak to me, or I'll have
you in the Mark.
_Jack._ I thought, Sir, the bruising Amphithea[t]re had been shut
up--but your English Gazettes are always telling abominable Lyes.
_Wildfire._ Come, my Boy, how do you do?
_Jack._ Pardie! Voila toujours, how do you do?
_Wildfire._ Well, but Jack, did you see Buck in Paris?
_Jack._ Who, Sir?
_Foxchase._ Buck.
_Jack._ I know very little of the Gentleman, Sir. I saw him once where I
happened to be upon a Visit, and mentioned that I should come over and
shew the advantages of Travel, and display to all our Beaux and pretty
Gentlemen, an Englishman return'd from Paris; and so whip and Spur, away
he set out, that he might make the first Impression, and I hear in his
Empressment his Post-chaise broke down on the road.
_Wildfire._ Well, but you, I was at the old Place last night--about went
the Bottle like a Windmill in a Storm. At length we sallied forth, and
smash went the Lamp into a thousand Shatters, and the watch cower'd
before us like so many Midnight Rascals; at last two or three of 'em
stood their ground and [they][12] dealt their Poles about our Ears--but
soon we clos'd in upon 'em made their old lanthorn Jaws rattle again,
stretched 'em in the Kennel, and so we got clear off. (_Lolls on Jack's
Shoulder_)
[12] The manuscript has "we."
_Foxchase._ I am just come smoaking hot from Epsom; I was after the
hounds all day yesterday, the rarest Sport in Nature--away swept the
Dogs, and old Reynard before 'em like a cunning son of a bitch as he
was, led us a Devil's Dance after his old rank Tail--Silverlocks and I
perform'd Wonders. Hillo! Ho! Cleared everything. (_Lolls on his other
Shoulder_)
_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen--
_Foxchase._ I'll tell you who was our Party--you know Bob Nankeen--there
was he--and Jack Oakstir--and Billy Thachm, and Harry Lappelle, and
myself, and so we drank like Souls all night, and then I scamper'd up to
Town like Lightning--
_Jack._ Gentlemen, I think I have read in one of your English Gazettes
of a Dancing School for grown People. I cou'd wish Gentlemen you wou'd
both profit of the Occasion.
_Wildfire._ Come, you've kept the Farce up long enough. Shall we dine
together?
_Jack._ I am to dine in particular today.
_St. Louis._ I put on your Wig, Sir.
_Jack._ Allons, St. Louis. (_Sits down_)
_Wildfire._ What's that, a Wig? (_Jack puts on a mask while his man
powders him_) Wounds what a fellow it is. Egad he's in earnest all this
while. He has forgot the plainess and honesty of an Englishman without
having the outside Shew of a Frenchman.
_Foxchase._ Come along man, let's leave the fellow to himself.
_Wildfire._ Lookye Jack. (_Pulls the mask from Jack's face_) When you
are the same honest fellow we once knew we shall to crack a Bottle with
you, but while you continue a ridiculous Ape of French Manners, we
heartily despise you, and so you may go and be damn'd Mounsieur. Hillo
ho! (_Exeunt_)
_Jack._ Hey! St. Louis, Bourguignon, La Fleur, Hector, de Roger, I am
never at home for these People again. Pardie sont des Homes a jetter par
le Fenestre to be thrown out of the window. Allons, finish my head, St.
Louis.
(_Enter_ ROGER)
_Roger._ Lady Betty Mockmode, Sir, is with Miss Harriet, and desires to
speak with you.
_Jack._ This Eyebrow is very obstinate today, here La Fleur, arch my
Eyebrow. Tell my Lady Betty that I am so deranged by these People, that
I must now go and take the Air to recover my Spirits--and tell my Lady
Betty if she will come to the Park, we will entertain ouselves with a
little Raillery upon the Mob of English Gentlemen. It is well observed
by one of the wits of France that few People know how to take a walk,
I'll shew them how to walk. Plus belle que l'Aurora. (_Exit_)
(_Scene the Park. Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)
_Wildfire._ Split the fellow! Did you ever see anything so
metamorphos'd? But rot him. Let's talk no more about him.
_Foxchase._ He verifies the old Proverb, send a Goose from
Dover--there's hardly any Company in the Park this Morning.
_Wildfire._ A few discontented Politicians, and Poets taking the benefit
of the Air; but what the Deuce is the Matter yonder?
_Foxchase._ There's a Mob got together--
_Wildfire._ Split me, but I believe it is--yes, it is--it is by
Jupiter--it's Jack Broughton with the Mob at his Heels, death what a
figure he cuts! Let's step aside, and not pretend to know him.
(_Enter_ JACK BROUGHTON _dress'd fantastically_)
_Mob._ Hurra! Hurra! Make room for the French Gentleman.
_1st Mob._ Mounsieur, Mounsieur, what will you dine upon the haunch of a
Frog today?
_2nd Mob._ Mounsieur, what was you taken Prisoner?
_Jack._ Ma foi, voila, un droll de Paris--English Manners.
_Mob._ Hurra! Hurra!
_Jack._ Hey Bourguignon, La Fleur, Hector, this fellow has picked my
Pocket here.
_Pickpocket._ I pick your pocket! I scorn your Words, ram my Eyes, what
do you mean Mounsieur? I believe I've as much Money in my pocket as you,
for all your Bag Mounsieur. Come, now, ram my Eyes, will you box?
_Jack._ English Liberty in Perfection! The fellow puts his hand in my
Pocket, whips out my Handkerchief, and when I tell him he's a Fripon,
the Scoundrel cries, "Ram my Eyes will you Box."
_Pickpocket._ Come now, for all you're a Gentleman--
_Mob._ A Ring, a Ring for the French Gentleman. (_A ring made_)
_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen, I am no Frenchman, there are two Gentlemen
there, that know me--Mr. Wildfire, Mr. Foxchase--
_Wildfire._ What does the fellow mean? I know nothing of you.
_Jack._ Nay, but Gentlemen you see my Distress.
_Wildfire._ We know nothing of you Fellow. Who is he?
_Mob._ A French Spy, I suppose.
_Mob._ Let the French Gentleman have fair Play.
_1st Mob._ Come now, what signifies your law? I saw you pick his Pocket.
_Mob._ Did you? Hurra! A Pickpocket--let's duck him--a Pickpocket!
Hurra!
_Jack._ O Paris! Paris! But who have we here? My Lady Betty by all
that's agreeable.
(_Enter_ LADY BETTY)
_Lady Betty._ Oh, I shall expire in this Country! English Liberty will
certainly be the death of me. Mon cher Cavalier the horrid creatures got
round me as if they had never seen a Gentlewoman before.
_Jack._ Madam, I have the Honor of sympathising with your Ladyship. They
surrounded me too, and I suppose wou'd still have kept me en Embarras
had they not been call'd off to participate of an English Diversion
call'd ducking a Pickpocket.
_Lady Betty._ Marquis! Marquis! Marquis! As sure as you are there my
poor little Dog is lost--let my Chairman and Servants seek about--I'll
give any reward for him. I brought him with me for a little Air, the
poor thing had the Vapours ever since he arriv'd, the Air of this
Country is too thick and scorbutic for him, and then you know Marquis
was always Journalier; such a gloom hangs over the People he cou'd not
endure to go into Company! I am so deranged I look like a fright--do I?
He--how do I look?
_Jack._ Madam, your Face is admirably imagin'd today. I always said in
Paris that you had a better taste for Faces, than any of them.
_Lady Betty._ Well, that is so obliging now--pauvre Marquis! My poor
Marquis! I took him to visit with me last night, it would divert you to
see how the dear little thing stared at them seated at the Whist Tables.
"How do you like Paris Madam? What's Trumps? Clubs--hum! Is it as large
as London? They say short aprons are coming into fashion." And that was
all the conversation for half an hour--and then to see the dear
creature bark at 'em when they all began in one loud Din. "Captain
Hazard, why did you not lead thro' the Honors? Dear Madam, why did you
not see-saw? My Lord how could you think of finessing--don't you know
what Hoyle says? If A and B are Partners against C and D and the game
nine all. A and B have won three tricks, and C and D four tricks then C
leads his Suit, D puts up the King, then returns the Suit; A passes, C
puts up the Queen, B finesses, and so A and B etc."
_Jack._ Well to be sure they have very fine Raillery in this Country--
_Lady Betty._ And then at the Brag Table, such a Scene of confusion! I
brag--hum! I pass--hum! And then to see my Lady Laststake bully the Room
with a Thump of her Fist on the Table, "And I brag ten guineas over."
(_Hurra without_)
_Jack._ Oh that rude Canaille have duck'd their Pickpocket, and are
following us again, do my Lady Betty, let us make our Escape. Hey! Let
touts mes gens be ready. St. Louis, Bourguignon, La Fleur! (_Exeunt_)
(_Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)
_Wildfire._ What a figure they both cut!
_Foxchase._ They've been rightly serv'd.
_Wildfire._ Let us go and dine at his Father's to plague the fellow.
_Foxchase._ With all my Heart. Sir Robert will be glad to see us.
_Wildfire._ By Jupiter the People are after 'em still. They deserve it.
The Man who foolishly adopts French Manners, joyns in League with their
Barbers, their Milliners, and is guilty of a Petit-Treason to his
Country. (_Exeunt_)
(_The End of the 1st Act_)
ACT the 2nd
(_Enter_ SIR ROBERT _and_ SIDEBOARD)
_Sir Robert._ What, is this part of his French Manners? Neither to come
home to Dinner, nor send word?
_Sideboard._ I wish some Accident has not happen'd, Sir. (_A knocking at
the Door_)
_Sir Robert._ Perhaps this is he--
_Sideboard._ Walk in Gentlemen.
(_Enter_ WILDFIRE _and_ FOXCHASE)
_Wildfire._ Sir Robert, your most obedient--we have made bold to come
and take share of a Dinner with your Son.
_Sir Robert._ Gentlemen, you're heartily welcome--but I don't know
what's become of him.
_Wildfire._ He'll be here immediately, Sir, with a very splendid
Retinue--he has got the Mob after his Chariot all the way from the Park.
(_Enter_ ROGER)
_Roger._ Here he comes, but in such a Pickle--the French Parlevous
picked a quarrel with the People and there's the new Paper vis-a-vis all
demolish'd. There's Lady Betty all towzled, and the Mounsieurs beat to
Stockfish--here comes the Squire.
(_Enter_ JACK _all splashed_)
_Jack._ Pardie! There is no Regulation, no Police in this Country--to
serve a Gentleman at this rate, my new vis-a-vis, and touts mes
gens--deranged in this manner by them.
_Wildfire._ What a Pickle the Fellow's in!
_Sir Robert._ A sad figure indeed.
_Jack._ This is it to live in a Country of Liberty.
(_Enter a chair with the Glasses all shatter'd_)
_Lady Betty._ (_Comes out_) Oh! I shall certainly expire in this
Country! My dear Monsieur de Broughton was there ever anything so
barbarous and inhospitable!
_Roger._ It's my Opinion, if I had not been there to speak English for
un, they'd a kill un all.
_Mob._ (_Without_) Hurra! No Mounsieurs, no wooden Shoes. (_A Noise if
the windows were breaking_)
_Mob._ Hurra! No French Spys!
(_Enter_ ST. LOUIS)
_St. Louis._ Jarnie, Monsieur, I was going up de hide in de garret, and
this stone come Pauf--here by my head.
_Roger._ I'll go and speak to un, they'll give over for an honest
Englishman, I warrant un. (_Exit_)
_Lady Betty._ What a pack of Savages!
_Jack._ They have no police; at Paris one of the Canaille dare not come
within the Atmosphere of a Man of Condition--there, for sending forty
Livres to the Lieutenant of the Police, a Man of Quality may run a
Scoundrel thro' the Body.
_Sir Robert._ Well, well, come let's in to dinner--Mr. Florid, and the
French Gentleman are waiting for us.
_Lady Betty._ Oh, I could not eat in this condition--I'll step upstairs
to M'am'selle Harriet. (_Exit_)
_Jack._ And I'll go up to my Toilette.
_Wildfire._ No, no, you shall come and dine.
_Sir Robert._ That's right, Lads, bring him along. (_Exeunt_)
(_Enter_ ROGER _with a Tankard in his hand_)
_Roger._ There, I gave un something to drink, and they've quiet.
_Sideboard._ Young Master's greatly chang'd Roger.
_Roger._ He is greatly chang'd indeed; here's my sarvice to you.
_Sideboard._ He must have spent a great deal of Money abroad.
_Roger._ Ay, ay, Sir Robert never stinted un for that.
_Sideboard._ We were all in a sad way about him at one time.
_Roger._ Ay, that was when the French Marquis run un thro' the Body;
Lord help ye, I was in a sad Pucker--as sure as you are there I thought
we had lost un--thoff he deserv'd it in part too. I'll tell you how it
was. He was got one day bragging of his Amorous, I think they call
it--and so some young thing was toasted--she was painted up to the Eyes,
I warrant her--they all paint there Master Sideboard, like so many
Dolls.
_Sideboard._ So I have heard.
_Roger._ Here's my sarvice to you--and so when the young woman was
toasted, odds my Heart, what does the Squire, but says he, what
signifies drinking she--I have had she; thoff he never had her atall
Master Sideboard, a had not indeed. I have had she, says the Squire,
give us a new face. Had she says the Marquis do you know she is my
Sister? I know that says the Squire, and I lov'd her the better for it.
And so the Marquis grew bloody angry and run un thro' the small Ribs--a
did indeed.
_Sideboard._ We were all afraid he would have died.
_Roger._ Here's my sarvice to you, a wish a had never set a foot in
their Country. I never had so much as a hearty meal while I was among
un, excepten a Month or two in the beginning, when the Squire liv'd with
some of his Country Folks in the Rue de Butchery--I think they call it.
_Sideboard._ No place like our Country, I believe Roger, let 'em say
what they will.
_Roger._ You have hit it Master Sideboard, you have indeed. Dear Heart,
they have such Laws there--why a poor Servant dare not give his Opinion
there of the Government.
_Sideboard._ No!
_Roger._ No--if he does, he's taken up with a Letter Scratched, and sent
to the Bastile, and if you ask a reason for it, all they say to you
is--de parlour oi. Why now here we can each talk of folks at Helm and of
Taxes, and know as much of the matter as any of un.
_Sideboard._ That's the Privilege of an Englishman, Roger.
_Roger._ And then a Sarvant there has no Vails--a Butler's place is
nothing there, a poor Gentleman may come and dine there, and you're
oblig'd to be as civil to him, as if he had money in his Pocket, and was
oblig'd to give you more than his dinner is worth, as they do in
England. I had rather live with an honest Citizen, who brings his friend
home from change to his own dinner, mayhap a Leg of Mutton and a
Pudding, and if you fix yourself well at the Door, you are sure to touch
un for a Hog.
_Sideboard._ A poor servant had better be a country curate than that.
_Roger._ I am sure I hated them all the time I was there and their lingo
and all. Such outlandish Names they have for things--what do you think
they call a Horse? Cheval. And Beef, now what do you think they call
Beef?
_Sideboard._ I can't say.
_Roger._ They call it Beff--and sometimes they call it Bulli, the honest
Beef of old England is call'd Beff by un. And what do you think they
call the French King?
_Sideboard._ The grand Monarque.
_Roger._ It's worser than that, it is not as you read in the Flying
Mercury and the Country Journal, but they call un the King of France,
they do indeed.
_Sideboard._ Hush! The bell rings, I must go into 'em.
_Roger._ Do so, Master Sideboard, and I'll step down--Beff, I'll tell
you what Master Sideboard, it's my Opinion they'll never come to speak
English while they live--Beff. (_Exeunt_)
(_Scene discovers them_ [JACK, WILDFIRE, FOXCHASE,
SIR ROBERT, ABBÉ, _and_ FLORID] _at Table_)
_Jack._ Mort de ma Vie! I am burnt alive.
_Wildfire._ Come, come, off with your Glass.
_Foxchase._ Ay, ay, off with this Bumper.
_Jack._ Gentlemen, I believe you take me for the Fire Eater, I can't
swallow liquid Flames; can't we have the coffee and the Liquor?
_Wildfire._ There's more trouble with one Fellow that won't drink, than
with fifty that will, off with it I say.
_Sir Robert._ Drink Boy, you're fairly hunted.
_Jack._ (_Drinks_) Vive l'Amour.
_Wildfire._ And so Monsieur Abbé, you say that the French are making
great Armaments.
_Abbé._ Ver great Marine, Monsieur, ver great Marine.
_Jack._ The French are a very politic Nation; they never make a Treaty,
but with an Intent to break it, when it suits their Conveniency--so
you'll find they will at last give Laws, as Fashions to Europe.
_Wildfire._ Never fear, you'll find that John Bull will be too many for
Louis Baboon any day in the year. Let 'em land here, we'll shew 'em what
a figure Slaves will cut in a Land of Liberty. Come now, I'll give you a
Toast--Monsieur need not drink it, but as he began the subject he must
excuse my National Partiality--here's Old England for ever.
_All._ Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
_Jack._ L'Angleterre.
_Wildfire._ L'Angleterre! Say it in plain English, Old England.