CHAPTER VII
THE DECADENCE OF THE GRAND TOUR.
During the several generations when the Stuarts communicated their love of France to the aristocracy of England, there was, as we might suppose, a steady undercurrent of protest against this Gallic influence. A returning traveller would be pursued by the rabble of London, who, sighting his French periwig and foreign gestures, would pelt his coach with gutter-dirt, squibs, roots and rams-horns, and run after it shouting "French Dogs! French Dogs! A Mounser! A Mounser!"[376] Between the courtiers and the true-born Englishman there was no great sympathy in the matter of foreign culture. The courtiers too often took towards deep-seated English customs the irreverent attitude of their master, Charles II.--known to remark that it was the roast beef and reading of the holy Scriptures that caused the noted sadness of the English.[377] The true-born Englishman retorted with many a jibe at the "gay, giddy, brisk, insipid fool," who thought of nothing but clothes and garnitures, despised roast beef, and called his old friends ruffians and rustics; or at the rake who "has not been come from France above three months and here he has debauch'd four women and fought five duels." The playwrights could always secure an audience by a skilful portrait of an "English Mounsieur" such as Sir Fopling Flutter, who "went to Paris a plain bashful English Blockhead and returned a fine undertaking French Fop."[378]
There had always been a protest against foreign influence, but in the eighteenth century one cannot fail to notice a stronger and more contemptuous attitude than ever before. England was feeling her power. War with France sharpened the shafts of satire, and every victory over the French increased a strong insular patriotism in all classes. Foote declared residence in Paris a necessary part of every man of fashion's education, because it "Gives 'em a relish for their own domestic happiness and a proper veneration for their own national liberties."[379] His Epilogue to The Englishman in Paris commends the prudence of British forefathers who
"Scorned to truck for base unmanly arts,
Their native plainness and their honest hearts."[380]
It was not the populace alone, or those who appealed directly to the populace, who sneered at Popish countries, and pitied them for not being British.[381] As time went on Whigs of all classes boasted of the superiority of England, especially when they travelled in Europe.
"We envy not the warmer clime that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent skies ...
'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's Isle
And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile."[382]
Addison's travels are full of reflections of this sort. The destitution of the Campagna of Rome demonstrates triumphantly what an aversion mankind has to arbitrary government, while the well-populated mountain of St Marino shows what a natural love they have for liberty. Whigs abroad were well caricatured by Smollett in Peregrine Pickle in the figures of the Painter and the Doctor. They observed that even the horses and dogs in France were starved; whereupon the Governor of Peregrine, an Oxonian and a Jacobite, sneered that they talked like true Englishmen. The Doctor, affronted by the insinuation, told him with some warmth that he was wrong in his conjecture, "his affections and ideas being confined to no particular country; for he considered himself as a citizen of the world. He owned himself more attached to England than to any other kingdom, but this preference was the effect of reflection and not of prejudice."
This growing conviction of England's superiority helped to bring about the decadence of travel for education. Travel continued, and the eighteenth century was as noticeable as any other for the "mal du pays" which attacked young men, but travel became the tour of curiosity and diversion with which we are familiar, and not an earnest endeavour to become "a compleat person." Many changes helped this decadence. The "policy" of Italy and France, which once attracted the embryo statesmen of Elizabeth, was now well known and needed no further study. With the passing of the Stuarts, when the king's favour ceased to be the means of making one's fortune, a courtly education was no longer profitable. High offices under the Georges were as often as not filled by unpolished Englishmen extolled for their native flavour of bluntness and bluffness. Foreign graces were a superfluous ornament, more or less ridiculous. The majority of Englishmen were wont to prize, as Sam Johnson did, "their rustic grandeur and their surly grace," and to join in his lament: