––When we add that Monsieur Bazard, who
is the author of this singular production, is
of the opinion of Boiardo, that the English
have an especial talent for falling off their
horses––and no wonder, riding across the
country in such trim!––we have described the
leading points of this accurate picture.

Most of these distorted views of English life
originate with the French with whom we have
had most intercourse,and who ought to know us
best; but our German and Austrian friends,
the dramatic caricaturists, have a very hard
hit at us now and then. Only last month we
were attracted to the Carl Theatre, in Vienna,
by one little line in a play-bill, which
announced a new piece, the English title of
which is, "The Benefit Night." Here is the
line:–––

Lord Pudding, ein reisender Englander . . Hr. Heese
Lord Pudding, a Travelling Englishman . Mr. Heese.

In rigid obedience to the law, which has
impressed the names of eatables upon the
eaters thereof, the author had christened his
"pock-pudding-Englisher" (to borrow a pleasant
periphrasis from Scotland), out of the
pot. Nevertheless "The Benefit Night" in
which we think we descry some reflection of
a very good French vaudeville––is written
with considerable cleverness and wit. The
plot was chiefly evolved from the endeavours
of a manager to obtain the assistance of
certain eminent "stars" of the profession for
his benefit. He first presented himself to a
great singer, who was, of course, afflicted with
a cold, but who was at length frightened into
voice by hearing that a rival had already
agreed to sing his part, and by an assurance
from the manager that the new singer had
already taken everybody by storm at the
rehearsal. A great tragedian the manager
won by flattery; "the food of gods" being the
only thing worthy the acceptance of so august
a personage; and a dancer he bribed by
assuring her that the wealthy Englishman,
"Lord Pudding," would be in the house,
especially to fall in love with her. He also
promised a troop of experienced claqueurs to
applaud her new "pas."

We were introduced to Lord Pudding, as
he appeared while indulging in the singular
fancy of taking a lesson in Elocution from
a German actor! His personal appearance
was wonderful to behold. He was much
stuffed out with wadding to increase his
natural proportions, and his dress was such
as the tailors––not only of Pall-Mall and
St. James's Street, but of any English
extraction or habitation whatsoever––would
see with amaze. It was composed of a
blue dress coat, with white buttons, a red
waistcoat, nankeen tights, shoes of polished
leather, and long brass spurs. His neck-
kerchief was a bright blue, carrying the eye
pleasantly up to a very white hat with an
imperceptible brim. The author appeared
to have studied the manners of our aristocracy
with exceeding diligence; for, to the
usual peculiarities which may be considered
the "stock" of Foreign theatricals, he added
some strikingly original features. Lord
Pudding was, of course, a lover, and of course an
unsuccessful one: he was jilted by the French
dancer. When he danced he was made to
tumble; when he saluted a lady he gave his
lips a loud smack. He entered a room like
a whirlwind, and between his paroxysms of
"fuss" our usual friendly salutation "Gottam"
was repeated many times; to the enthusiastic
delight of the audience, who believed it to be
a polished sort of "How-d' ye-do?" He was
quite the Clown to the Ring; and had the long
pockets––in which that gentleman usually
searches for the chalk when it is required for
the tight-rope––well-filled. Nor was Pudding
stingy with his money. Despite his hard
usage by the ballet-lady, he was liberal to the
manager. Though wrathful, he was of easy
faith; being readily imposed upon, and peculiarly
sensible to flattery, by which means he
was induced to take three boxes for the
benefit, viz., one for himself; one for the
policeman who had been in constant attendance
on him since his arrival, to restrain his
inveterate propensity for knocking down the
lieges of the city (so intense was his love for
"the boaks;") the third for the exclusive
occupation of––, his boulle-dog! One or two
little touches, which distinguished his lordship,
showed that the actor was, at least, an
observer. Such were, the hat pushed back
from the crimson forehead, the heavy rolling
walk, and a strenuous objection to be kissed
––all particularly English.

Other specimens of the genus we had
previously seen, however, showed that Lord
Pudding was a very fair example of an
English gentleman on the German stage.

We cannot but believe that though
amusing, these caricatures––exhibited as they
are to ignorant and prejudiced minds––tend
to confound the just relations between one
people and another. Perhaps friendly
Excursions on both sides of the channel may do
much to lessen these absurdities.
Unfortunately––as recent publications too well
prove––the mistaken estimate of the English
is by no means corrected by the graver
works now and then put forth by distinguished
men. Highly as we esteem M. Guizot
and some Frenchmen of real attainments, who
have written upon England, we have never
taken up a book on the subject without painful
disappointment, or without seeing in it
errors almost equal to M. Ledru Rollin's more
recent incongruities.

To the honour of our modern English authors
be it spoken, they have been zealous to avoid
such ridiculous mistakes. It is true that the
harmless old legends respecting Foreigners––
that nine-tenths of them are Frenchmen; that
all are of very slender proportions in figure;
that their staple diet is frogs; and that, despite
Alison's and every other History of Europe,