The Press.
London, England, 1854-03-18 00:00:00

SATURDAY,

but ugliness remains." On this theme all sorts of
amusing remarks were made ; but I could not help being
reminded of the laboured conflicts of wit by which the
jesters in our old comedies fill up the intervals of action.
Of course, to any one who did not examine what was said,
in my cold-blooded way the whole dialogue, carried on in
choice language, without confusion or hesitation, ea h
speaking in turn, as if repeating a part, and all allowing
one person to guide and direct, as it were, the manoeuvre,
must have seemed a remarkable exercitation. I remember
one trait that was rather applauded. It was mentioned
that a certain St. Simonian had preached on the emancipa•
tion of women at Cairo, in Egypt. " That is to say, in the
desert," quoth some one.
It is not uncommon to meet in society an elegant little
old gentleman who has gained a reputation in his small
circle for wit and learning on the strength of a few axioms,
a few smart sayings, and a few celebrated friends. Ho
descends from the ancient aristocracy, but has taken tints
from the first empire. I like to analyse him. In every
circumstance of life, at all the turns and corners of con-
versation, he has a pretty phrase, an anecdote, a quotation,
pat to the purpose; and he has been so accustomed to
speak with applause, that every arrowy sentence is
feathered and gilded, as it were, by a witty smile and a
jocular twinkle of the eye. What he says is not humorous,
and therefore lie does not laugh • but he sometimes emits
an elegant chuckle, that never fails to produce the effect.
I have heard him speak on politics. He had a peculiarly
sarcastic way of taking his pinch of snuff as he pronounced
Albion to be perfidious, and explained how it emancipated
its slaves for the pleasure of ruining its neighbours. His
philosophy is that of the eighteenth century, and his
morality that of courts in all ages. When he blasphemes
it is always in a judicious way. He disapproves of
fanaticism, even in infidelity. Now and then he informs
young people from the country that he has discovered an
irrefutable argument against the immortality of the soul.
He knows a Jew who has told him that the Pentateuch,
like the Iliad, is ascollection of rhapsodies hastily put
together ; from which it is evident that there is no
such thing as a future state of existence. Moses
furnishes him with an inexhaustible supply of jokes; and
he shows his courage by unsparing witticisms about a
person, an offence against whom, we are warned, cannot be
forgiven.
This pleasant old gentleman sometimes makes little
quatrains, of course sparkling with verbal wit, on people
who invite him to dinner, and repeats them just at the
nick of time as improvisations—which they may be In
France, where the word improvisation is applied not only
to eloquent written speeches, but to elaborate books. nix
astonishing with how little wit the world is amused.
Mr. St. John contributes to the long cata-
logue of notable French misapprehensions of
English affairs :
I might collect thousands of instances from French
books and newspapers of ludicrous mistakes. A few,
however, will suffice. It is, perhaps, nothing that a
Frenchman never uses an English name or quotes an
English expression without making some strange error,
for this may be laid to that broad-shouldered class the
printers, to whom I shall certainly attribute any mistakes
of that sort that may be found in these pages. That
eloquent and ingenious writer, M. Wry, will scarcely
plead this excuse for introducing a set of jolly companions
rejoicing over a pint of half-naff, and it is not probable
that wiaki is a trip of the compositor. He must be
answerable, too, for attributing queer tastes to our low
English thieves, whom he represents as first drinking gin
and then absinthe. Our worthy neighbours entertain the
oddest possible ideas of our propensities in the way of
eating and drinking. We are supposed to spend one half
of the day in swallowing tea, and the other half in gorging
potatoes. M. Audot, in his notes on the gardens of the
south of Italy, goes out of his way to inform his readers
that the English are not only accustomed to eat radishes
as a dessert, but even carry them about in their pockets to
crunch on the public walks. As I have said, it is
commonly believed that there are no vegetables or fruits
in England, and encouragement to this notion is given by
a scientific writer in the Conslitalionnel, who, however,
only says that our vegetables do not ripen as they ought
to do. A short time before the article appeared I had had
a grave discussion with a lady on the subject, and
indignantly asserted that the English soil did produce
cabbages and cauliflowers. She kept a copy of the paper,
and, handing it to me as I went in, triumphantly ex-
claimed, " There, did I not tell you that there were no
vegetables in England ? "
"Madame," replied I, with a seriousness worthy
of a better cause, b" if there are vegetables that do
not properly ripen, that is a proof that there arc vege-
tables," &c.
A clever writer named Viardot has recently given an
account of his sporting experiences in England, and tells
us that a worthy country gentleman—a regular sportsman—
took him out for a morning's shooting, and at midday
gave him a cup of tea and a thin slice of bread and butter.
" Not even an egg I " he indignantly exclaims. I scarcely
recognise in this the exuberant hospitality of my country.
men, and must think that M. Viardot wrote from his
prejudices, not from his experience.
These are slight matters, but all matters are slight
when isolated by analysis. Let us go on. " I have
traversed England from end to end," says M. Mary, " and
I never saw but one shepherd. He was a young man, well
dressed and well gloved, reading the Morning Chronicle
under a tufted ash." The same writer has the impudence
to descride England as the land of women of easy virtue—
la terre des Pinnies faciles. I am well aware that there
is a great fund of romantic feeling and ill-regulated
enthusiasm in young English ladies, which sometimes
leads them to go to lengths of familiarity with foreigners
that they would never think of with their own countrymen ;
I but I am quite sure that M Aler)'3 remark is a boast in-