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.
LETTER XI.
Paris.
Your acquaintance B—— has been in Paris for these three weeks past. I cannot conceive how he has remained so long; for he has a very bad opinion of this nation, and is fraught with the strongest prejudice against French manners in general: He considers all their politesse as impertinence, and receives their civilities as a prelude to the picking of his pocket.
He and I went this forenoon to a review of the foot-guards, by Marshal Biron. There was a crowd; and we could with difficulty get within the circle so as to see conveniently. An old officer of high rank touched some people who stood before us, saying,—Ces deux Messieurs sont des étrangers; upon which they immediately made way, and allowed us to pass.—Don’t you think that was very obliging? said I.—Yes, answered he; but, by heavens, it was very unjust.