Our disputes with the colonies have been a prevailing topic of conversation wherever we have been since we left England. The warmth with which this subject is handled increases every day.—At present the inhabitants of the continent seem as impatient as those of Great Britain, for news from the other side of the Atlantic, but with this difference, that here they are all of one mind:—all praying for success to the Americans, and rejoicing in every piece of bad fortune which happens to our army.
That the French should be pleased with commotions which must distress and weaken Great Britain, and may transfer to them an equal right to every advantage we gained by the last war, is not surprising; but why the inhabitants of every other country should take part against England, and become partizans of America, is not so apparent.
I should forgive them, and even join in sentiment with them, as far as my regard for the honour and happiness of my country would permit, if this proceeded from an attachment to liberty, and a generous partiality for men who repel oppression, and struggle for independency.—But this is not the case.—Those who can reap no possible advantage from the revolt of America; those who have not an idea of civil liberty, and would even be sorry to see it established in their own country; those who have no other knowledge of the dispute, than that it is ruining England; all join as allies to the Americans, not from love to them, but evidently from dislike to us.
When I first observed this hostile disposition, I thought it might proceed from their being offended at that preference which the English give to their own country and countrymen, above all others: but this conceit we have in common with every other nation on the globe, all of whom cherish the same favourable opinion of themselves. It assuredly prevails in France in an eminent degree.—There is hardly one sceptic or unbeliever in the whole nation.—It is the universal creed, that France is the finest country in the world; the French the most ingenious and most amiable people, excelling in all the arts of peace and war; and that Paris is the capital of politeness, and the center of learning, genius, and taste.
This satisfaction at the misfortunes of Great Britain cannot therefore arise from a cause which is applicable to every other country. It may, indeed, in some measure, proceed from envy of the riches, and jealousy of the power of the English nation; but, I believe, still more from our taking no trouble to conciliate the affections of foreigners, and to diminish that envy and ill-will which great prosperity often creates. The French, though perhaps the vainest people on earth of their own advantages, have some degree of consideration for the feelings and self-love of their neighbours. A Frenchman endeavours to draw from them an acknowledgment of the superiority of his country, by making an elogium on whatever is excellent in theirs. But we are apt to build our panegyric of Old England, on the ruin and wretchedness of all other countries.—Italy is too hot, the inns miserable, and the whole country swarms with monks and other vermin.—In France, the people are slaves and coxcombs, the music execrable;—they boil their meat to rags, and there is no porter, and very little strong ale, in the country.—In Germany, some of their Princes have little more to spend than an English gentleman:—They use stoves instead of grates:—They eat sour crout, and speak High Dutch.—The Danes and Swedes are reminded, that they are rather at too great a distance from the equator; and many sly hints are given concerning the inconveniencies of a cold climate.—Of all things, I should think it most prudent to be silent on this last topic, as so many paltry states will take precedency of Old England, whenever it is the established etiquette that rank shall be determined by climate.
But this consideration has no effect on my honest friend John Bull. When he is in a choleric humour, he will not spare his best friends and nearest neighbours, even when he has most need of their assistance, and when those at a distance seem to have plotted his ruin.—If his own sister Peg should show a disposition to forget old squabbles, to live in friendship with her brother, and should declare that all who renounced his friendship were her enemies, and resolve to conquer by his side, or if that should fail, to die hard along with him—No! d—n ye, says John, none of your coaxing:—You be d—d! you are farther North than I—Keep your distance.—And so he falls a pelting Peg with her own snow-balls; and then turning from her, he attacks Lewis Baboon, Lord Strut, Lord Peter, and dashes their soup maigre, olio’s, and maccaroni, full in their teeth.
But to drop allegory; the universal satisfaction which appears all over Europe, at the idea of England’s being stript of her colonies, certainly does not intirely originate from political sentiments; but in a great degree from that reserve which keeps Englishmen from cultivating the friendship of foreigners; that pride which hinders them from stooping to humour prejudices; that indifference which makes them disregard the approbation of others, and betray the contempt they are too ready to entertain for customs or sentiments different from their own.
These are things not easily forgiven, and for which no superiority of genius, magnanimity, or integrity, can compensate. The same causes which have made foreigners take part against us in the dispute with America, induce those of them who are rich, and can spend their revenues out of their own country, to prefer France to England for that purpose. The difference between London and Paris in point of climate is very small. The winter amusements of the former are more magnificent; and perhaps every conveniency, and most of the luxuries of life are to be found there in greater perfection. During the summer months, by superior skill in agriculture and a better taste in gardening, England displays such scenes of cultivation, of verdure and fertility, as no country on earth can equal. To these are added the blessings of liberty; yet few or no foreigners reside in England, except those she maintains entirely at her own expence; all the wealthy, after a short visit to London, returning to spend their fortunes at Paris.
Exclusive of pecuniary advantages, it flatters the natural vanity of the French to find their society preferred to that of all other people, and particularly to that of their proud rivals.—Let them enjoy this advantage; let them draw to their capital the idle, the dissipated, and the effeminate of every country in Europe:—but for heaven’s sake, do you and your friends in parliament fall on some measure to prevent them from engaging the affections of our industrious brethren of America.