Paris.
You have often heard the French accused of insincerity, and of being warm
in professions, but devoid of real friendship.
Our countrymen, in particular, are led into this opinion, from the
manners in general being more obsequious here, than in England. What
Frenchmen consider as common good manners, many Englishmen would call
flattery, perhaps fawning.
Their language abounds in complimental phrases, which they distribute
with wonderful profusion and volubility; but they intend no more by them,
than an Englishman means when he subscribes himself your most obedient
humble servant, at the conclusion of a letter.
A Frenchman not only means nothing beyond common civility, by the
plentiful shower of compliments which he pours on every stranger; but
also, he takes it for granted, that the stranger knows that nothing more
is meant. These expressions are fully understood by his own countrymen:
he imagines all the world are as well informed; and he has not the
smallest intention to deceive. But if any man takes these expressions in
a literal sense, and believes that people are in reality inspired with
friendship, or have fallen in love with him at first sight, he will be
very much disappointed; especially if he expects strong proofs of either.
Yet he has no right to accuse the French of insincerity, or breach of
friendship.—Friendship is intirely out of the question. They never
intended to convey any other idea, than that they were willing to
receive him on the footing of an acquaintance;—and it was the business
of his language-master to have informed him of the real import of their
expressions.
If the same words indeed were literally translated into English, and used
by one Englishman to another, the person to whom they were addressed,
would have good reason to imagine that the other had a particular regard
for him, or meant to deceive him; because the established modes of
civility and politeness in England do not require such language.
The not making a proper allowance for different modes and usages which
accident has established, is one great cause of the unfavourable and
harsh sentiments, which the people of the different countries of the
world too often harbour against each other.
You may say, perhaps, that this superfluity of compliments which the
French make use of, is a proof of the matter in question; that the
French have less sincerity than their neighbours. By the same rule we
must conclude, that the common people of every nation, who use few
complimental phrases in their discourse, have a greater regard to truth,
and stronger sentiments of friendship, than those in the middle and
higher ranks. But this is what I imagine it would be difficult to prove.
These complimental phrases, which have crept into all modern languages,
may, perhaps, be superfluous; or, if you please, absurd: but they are so
fully established, that people of the greatest integrity must use them,
both in England and in France; with this difference, that a smaller
proportion will do in the language of the one country, than in that of
the other; but they are indications of friendship in neither.
Friendship is a plant of slow growth, in every climate. Happy the man who
can rear a few, even where he has the most settled residence. Travellers,
passing through foreign countries, seldom take time to cultivate them;
if they be presented with some flowers, although of a flimsy texture and
quicker growth, they ought to accept of them with thankfulness, and not
quarrel with the natives, for choosing to retain the other more valuable
plant for their own use.
Of all travellers, the young English nobility and gentry have the least
right to find fault with their entertainment while on their tours
abroad; for such of them as show a desire of forming a connection with
the inhabitants, by even a moderate degree of attention, are received
upon easier terms than the travellers from any other country. But a
very considerable number of our countrymen have not the smallest desire
of that nature: they seem rather to avoid their society, and accept
with reluctance every offer of hospitality. This happens partly from
a prejudice against foreigners of every kind; partly from timidity or
natural reserve; and in a great measure from indolence, and an absolute
detestation of ceremony and restraint. Besides, they hate to be obliged
to speak a language of which they seldom acquire a perfect command.
They frequently, therefore, form societies or clubs of their own, where
all ceremony is dismissed, and the greatest ease and latitude allowed in
behaviour, dress, and conversation. There they confirm each other in all
their prejudices, and with united voice condemn and ridicule the customs
and manners of every country but their own.
By this conduct the true purpose of travelling is lost or perverted;
and many English travellers remain four or five years abroad, and have
seldom, during all this space, been in any company but that of their own
countrymen.
To go to France and Italy, and there converse with none but English
people, and merely that you may have it to say that you have been in
those countries, is certainly absurd: Nothing can be more so, except to
adopt with enthusiasm the fashions, fopperies, taste, and manners of
those countries, and transplant them to England, where they never will
thrive, and where they always appear aukward and unnatural. For after all
his efforts of imitation, a travelled Englishman is as different from
a Frenchman or an Italian, as an English mastiff is from a monkey or a
fox: And if ever that sedate and plain meaning dog should pretend to the
gay friskiness of the one, or to the subtilty of the other, we should
certainly value him much less than we do.
But I do not imagine that this extreme is by any means so common as the
former. It is much more natural to the English character to despise
foreigners than to imitate them. A few tawdry examples to the contrary,
who return every winter from the continent, are hardly worth mentioning
as exceptions.