"... for half English as I am (To my misfortune) never can I say I heard them wish 'God with you,' save that way."
No stanza of the poem is more replete than this with a vein of painfully sarcastic drollery. The insular failing is elsewhere frequently displayed by the poet in the trying light cast from a misanthrope genius.
But perhaps the severest hit, and not the less severe because tempered with banter and good humour, is that which has been directed from the pen of Beaumarchais.[10] "Diable! c'est une belle langue que l'anglais; il en faut peu pour aller loin; avec Goddam en Angleterre on ne manque de rien ... les Anglais à la vérité, ajoutent par-ci par-là, quelques autres mots en conversant; mais il est bien aisé de voir que Goddam est le fond de la langue."
The highest point of wit in this direction must be supposed to have been reached when Evariste Parny, a poet of no mean celebrity, produced his "Goddam! poëme en quatre chants, par un French-dog." This was in the year XII. or, as we now should prefer to call it, 1804.
The countrymen, and in one remarkable instance, a countrywoman of Beaumarchais, have been particularly industrious in fastening this aspersion upon their English neighbours. So long ago as 1429, when the arms of Shrewsbury and Bedford had well-nigh wrested the last jewel from the diadem of France, and a peasant maiden of the Calvados had flung herself into Orleans to stem the tide of the English advance, there likewise came to the aid of the fainting cause a welcome supply of mirth and invective. The Maid of Orleans, inspiriting the beleaguered army by harangue, by entreaty, even by quips and jests, kept them constantly reminded of the insular nickname. Rising from sleep and putting on her armour to direct the memorable assault upon the Tournelles, a soldier of her command ventured to produce a repast of fish, and prayed her to break her fast. "Joan, let us eat this shad-fish before we set out." The Maid indignantly put aside the proffered gift, "In the name of God," said she, "it shall not be eaten till supper, by which time we will return by way of the bridge, and I will bring you back a Goddam to eat it with." How the redoubtable Tournelles was taken by steel and culverin, and how Joan succeeded in bringing back many hundred Goddams, has become matter of history. As to the conclusion of the Maid's career, there has been opened a wide field of controversy, but one incident in the closing chapter of her life is supported by reliable testimony. While undergoing close imprisonment pending the decision of her fate, two English noblemen, the Earls of Warwick and Stafford, came to visit her in gaol, and would seem to have held out hopes of ransom; Joan, irritated at the specious language of her visitors, retorted on them sharply: "I know you well," she cried, "you have neither the will nor the power to ransom me. You think when you have slain me, you will conquer France; but that you will never bring about. No! although there were one hundred thousand Goddams in this land more than there are!"[11]