Mr Holcroft remained above two years at Paris. While here, he seems to have been chiefly occupied in collecting materials for the large work on the manners, &c. of this capital, which he published after his return, in 1804. Of this work (Travels in France, &c.) it is only just to say, that it is one of the most interesting and instructive books of travels in the language. Its fault perhaps is, that it bears too hard on the foibles of the French, which Mr Holcroft seems to have regarded too much with the eye of an Englishman. Their own self-sufficiency, it is true, is enough to provoke and justify considerable severity of criticism. With respect to the question itself of the difference between the two nations, all that can be said upon it, I think, amounts only to this, that the one has too much gravity, and the other too much levity. Our gravity frequently degenerates into phlegm, coldness, reserve, pride, obstinacy, and sullenness; as their constitutional levity is productive of frivolity, pertness, unmeaning loquacity, self-conceit, fickleness, and indifference to good or evil. The feelings of the French are more quick and lively; those of the English more deep and permanent: again, their apprehensions have more facility and nicety of observation; our own countrymen have shewn greater strength and comprehension of mind. France has, I am persuaded, produced more clever men than England; but that she has produced more great men than England, cannot be pretended. The mind of a Frenchman is, in general, more easily moved, and by slighter causes; an Englishman’s feelings are, for the very reason that they require a greater momentum to bring them out, more steady and more strong. I do not here inquire into the superiority of the French or English character. I only state what I conceive to be the difference with a view to those among the French, who, setting up an exclusive claim to certain qualities, will not allow others the superiority in things which are totally distinct, and who are ready to grasp all excellence, however incompatible, to themselves. Those who wish to be furnished with facts illustrative of the peculiar manners and character of the French, will find ample materials for this purpose, accompanied with refined and discriminating reflections, in the Travels of our author.
I shall insert only two examples, which may shew the pointed felicity with which Mr Holcroft has selected his traits of national character. ‘My wife,’ says Mr Holcroft, ‘was one day buying some fish; and while she was undetermined, the girl said to her—“Prenez cela, car votre mari est un brave homme.” My wife replied,—“Oui, cela se peut bien; mais comment savez-vous qu’il est un brave homme?” “C’est égal,” answered the girl, “cela fait plaisir à entendre.” This girl’s maxim is sound morality wherever I have been in France.’ The difference between words and things is certainly less marked in France than in England: how far this is an advantage or a disadvantage, I do not, for my own part, pretend to decide.
The other story is highly honourable to, as well as characteristic of the French. Their humanity, whatever else we may think of it, costs them less than it does the English.
‘A poor musician, who usually brought a small pianoforte in the afternoon to the Champs Elysées, and played, that those who were pleased might reward him by a trifle, having played in vain one evening, was sorrowfully retiring home. He was seen by Elleviou, (a famous actor) remarked, and questioned. The poverty and ill success of the wandering musician moved the pity of the actor, who desired the instrument might again be put down; and stepping aside, he said he would return instantly. His wife and friend had passed on, and he brought them back. It was nearly dark. Pradere, his friend, sat down to the pianoforte, and accompanied Elleviou, who began to sing, to the astonishment of numbers that were soon assembled. The men had drawn the hat over the brow: Madame Elleviou put down her veil, and went round to collect; the pleasingness of her manner, the little thankful curtsies she dropt to all who gave, the whiteness of her hand, and the extraordinary music they heard, rendered the audience so liberal, that she made several tours, and none ineffectually. Elleviou, however, could not long remain unknown; and finding themselves discovered, Madame Elleviou gave all, and it was supposed, more than all, she had collected from the crowd, to the poor musician: the sum amounted to thirty shillings; and among the pence and halfpence there were crown pieces, which no doubt were given by the actors. The feelings of the scene as the audience dispersed, are not easily to be described. The unexpected relief, afforded to the man who was departing so disconsolate, was great indeed: but it was forgotten in the charming behaviour of those who relieved him, in their almost divine music, and in the strangeness of the adventure. The surrounding people were scarcely less moved; so kind an act from a man in such high public estimation, excited more than admiration; and the tears of gratitude, shed by the musician, drew sympathizing drops from many of the spectators. This event gave birth to two new musical pieces, which were both successful.’
This was certainly an action of which an Englishman is incapable, but to which every Englishman will give his warmest tribute of applause. When people dispute and cavil about one another’s actions, it is only because there is something wrong or absurd on both sides.
The Travels through France, &c. were published by Phillips, and Mr Holcroft received 1500l. for the copy-right.
After Mr Holcroft’s return from the Continent, in the summer of 1803, almost the first undertaking in which he embarked was the establishment of a printing-house, in connexion with his brother-in-law, Mercier. Mr Holcroft found unexpected difficulties in this business, owing to the want of sufficient capital to carry it on. Meeting also with many heavy losses in publications which he undertook to print on his own account, he found himself under the necessity, in order to satisfy the pressing demands of his creditors, to dispose of the printing-office, having previously obtained his partner’s consent to do so.
Mr Holcroft brought out six dramatic pieces while he was abroad, or after his return to England: Deaf and Dumb, The Escapes, Hear both Sides, a Tale of Mystery, the Lady of the Rock, and lastly, The Vindictive Man. All of them, except the last, were successful.
Those which became the greatest favourites with the public, were, Deaf and Dumb, and the Tale of Mystery, a melo-drama. Both of these are certainly exquisite in their kind, but of the first it is not too much to say, that it is one of the most beautiful and affecting stories that ever was exhibited on any stage. It is taken from the French play of M. Bouilly, which was itself founded on an incident in the life of the famous Abbe de l’Epée, instructor of the Deaf and Dumb.
Julio, the heir of the lord of Harancour, who is born deaf and dumb, is left an orphan, when he is only eight years old; and the helplessness of his situation suggesting the possibility of getting rid of him, he is taken from Thoulouse to Paris by his guardian and maternal uncle, assisted by a servant in the family, and there lost in the streets at night. Dupre, the accomplice of his uncle Darlemont, swears to his death; and at their return home, Darlemont is invested with the estates and honours of the house of Harancour. Meantime, poor Julio is found in the streets of Paris in a coarse dress, which does not denote him to be any thing but a beggar; and it being discovered that he is deaf and dumb, he is taken to the asylum of the Abbe de l’Epée for children who are born with this defect. The melancholy observed in his countenance and manner, the delicacy of his complexion, and other circumstances, soon lead to a suspicion that he is the child of rich parents, and has been purposely lost by some person who wished to usurp his rights. He is taught the use of artificial signs, and learns to read and write. One day being with De l’Epée, when a judge is passing by dressed in his full robes, Julio is violently agitated, and makes signs to his instructor, that his father used to be dressed in this manner. Another time, passing through the Barriere d’Enfer, the recollection suddenly struck him that this was the very gate through which he entered Paris. This produced a conviction in the mind of L’Epée that he came from some city in the south of France, of which in all likelihood his father had been chief magistrate. Yet how to proceed in his behalf? The youth had never heard his father’s name, he did not know his family, or the place of his birth. After some ineffectual researches, De l’Epée resolves at last to take his pupil with him, and traverse in person and on foot the whole of the south of France. They embrace each other, invoke the protection of heaven, and set forward. After a journey, long, fatiguing, hopeless, they at length arrive at the gates of Thoulouse. Julio knows the place, seizes his benefactor’s hand, and uttering wild cries of joy, leads him quickly, here and there, through various quarters of the city. At last they come to the square in which the palace of Harancour stood; he stops, points to the mansion, shrieks, and falls senseless into the arms of L’Epée. This is the foundation of the story, the rest may be easily divined by the reader.—The Vindictive Man was the last, and certainly not the best of Mr Holcroft’s dramatic productions. It was condemned at Drury-lane. From the state of his circumstances at the time, this failure was felt as a severe blow, by the author. With what feelings he bore it, may be learned from a short, but beautiful dedication of the play to Miss Holcroft.