Early Georgian England

IN the spring of 1725 a young gentleman of Lausanne, belonging to a Huguenot family who a generation earlier had found there a refuge from persecution, set forth on his travels. From England, where he remained more than five years, he wrote letters, then and long afterward found interesting by many readers in Switzerland, Voltaire among them. The youthful visitor had clear and very observant eyes, an open mind, and a simple, straightforward manner in recording his impressions which at once wins confidence, and his letters, now translated and edited by the wife of one of his descendants, have a quite living interest, as well as a somewhat exceptional value, as a picture of early eighteenth-century England.¹ Naturally, too, they throw side lights upon contemporary manners and customs on the other side of the Channel. “ The English are very clean,” says M. de Saussure, adding that not a day passes without their washing themselves, and that “ in winter as well as in summer.” He also declares that the amount of water they use in cleansing their houses “ is inconceivable,” and after giving details of this daily scrubbing, he records that “ even the hammers and locks on the doors are rubbed and shine brightly,” and more than once he refers admiringly to the Englishman’s table, where the linen is always white, the silver brilliant, and, most surprising of all, knives and forks are changed “ every time a plate is removed.” And yet with all this lavish use of water “ absolutely none is drunk,” not even by paupers. On ordinary occasions he finds that the English gentleman dresses far more plainly than the Frenchman, but his cloth and linen are always of the finest. That the lower classes should be so comfortably clad (and also shod) at once attracts his notice, as does the well-being of the peasant. He warns his friends that in mixing with a London crowd keeping holiday, it is best to eschew finery, else the stranger will be saluted with the cry of “French dog,” their worst term of opprobrium. Reconstructors of early Georgian London are much inclined to lay stress on the ill-lighted streets, but this actual observer finds most of them “ wonderfully well - lighted ” all the night through. They are badly paved, but on either side is a smooth, raised path where one can walk pleasantly and safely however great the press of carriages and horses, — safely that is, if the “ By your leave, Sir,” of the chairmen is heeded, for these strong and skillful bearers go so fast that they cannot turn aside.

The visitor explores the town from end to end, noting the excellence of the houses, the opulence of the shops with their “ magnificent ” swinging signs, and also the pugnacity of the “ lower populace ” always ready to settle quarrels with their fists in fair fight. He even adventures to Bartholomew’s Fair, not very different from the pandemonium of a century earlier, to the cockpit and the ring. Once he is at Tyburn, what time Jonathan Wild met his not unmerited doom, and remarks with approval that torture is not used, either at trials or executions. But these are the investigations of a traveler ; his habitual way is that of the class called “ civil, sober gentlemen.” He does not find English comedy “ at all refined or witty,” but greatly admires their tragedies in “ unrhymed verse,” though they are too “ bloody.” He takes so lively an interest in all memorable pageants, that friendly readers are glad that he had a partial view of what he pronounces “ the most solemn, magnificent, and sumptuous ceremony it is in any one’s lot in life to witness.” If he did not see the actual Coronation, nor hear the “ fine and suitable sermon,” or the greatest singers and musicians uniting in “ admirable symphonies conducted by the celebrated Mr. Handel,” the processions and banquet tax all his powers of description.

There are deep shadows as well as brilliant lights in this veracious picture of the London where the Hanoverian Georges reigned and Walpole ruled, but nothing mars the writer’s delight in the English country and its life, a life in which socially the country town still had a share. He rejoices in the Thames, “ wide, beautiful, and peaceful,” a waterway for the Londoners with its fifteen thousand boats. He can write understandingly, and entertainingly as well, of matters political, legal, and religious. The pride of the English he finds often is only reserve ; they are more taciturn than the French by nature, but their friendship when proffered is sincere and can be counted upon. They are very brave, yet few of them are partisans of dueling. The liberty which their government affords “ they value more than all the joys of life, and would sacrifice everything to retain it.” Their freedom in writing on religious matters rather appalls the young Huguenot, who says that in any other country such books and their authors would speedily be consigned to the executioner. England is undoubtedly, he declares, the most happily governed nation in the world, and would be the most enviable were it not divided by different sects and parties, though he owns that in the opinion of many these differences preserve the liberties and privileges of the people.

The variety of points touched upon by M. de Saussure is as remarkable as his general accuracy in dealing with them. At once amiable and shrewd he proves an agreeable acquaintance, and it causes a twinge of regret that his departure from a country which otherwise treated him so hospitably should have been hastened by a never-forgotten disappointment. The family of the charming English girl whom he loved wisely and well would not consent to her marriage with an alien. One of the first English traits the visitor had noted was that foreigners in general were looked on with contempt, — he magnanimously adds that the wealth, plenty, liberty, and comforts which the English enjoy go far to justify their good opinion of themselves. Certainly César de Saussure was not classed by his many friends with the general, but Lausanne was far, very far, from London in 1730. S. M. F.