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Mounseer, a corruption of Monsieur, is (or was) a derogatory term used by English speakers to refer to a Frenchman. Originating in British Navy slang, it was in fairly wide currency in the 19th century. Gibson of course means France when he speaks of the “land of ‘the darned Mounseer.’”
The phrase, “the darned Mounseer,” was made popular by a Gilbert and Sullivan ballad:
The Darned Mounseer
I shipped, d’ye see, in a Revenue sloop,
And, off Cape Finisteere,
A merchantman we see,
A Frenchman, going free,
So we made for the bold Mounseer,
D’ye see?
We made for the bold Mounseer!
But she proved to be a Frigate — and she up with her ports,
And fires with a thirty-two!
It come uncommon near,
But we answered with a cheer,
Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
D’ye see?
Which paralysed the Parley-voo!
Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,
"That chap we need not fear, —
We can take her, if we like,
She is sartin for to strike,
For she’s only a darned Mounseer,
D’ye see?
She’s only a darned Mounseer!
But to fight a French fal-lal — it's like hittin' of a gal —
It’s a lubberly thing for to do;
For we, with all our faults,
Why, we’re sturdy British salts,
While she’s but a Parley-voo,
D’ye see?
A miserable Parley-voo!”
So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze,
As we gives a compassionating cheer;
Froggee answers with a shout
As he sees us go about,
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
D’ye see?
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!
And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other’s cheek
(Which is what them furriners do),
And they blessed their lucky stars
We were hardy British tars
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
D’ye see?
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!
“Mounseer” for “Frenchman” appears in other English writings from the 18th and 19th centuries. A humorous sailor’s prayer to Neptune goes in part:
Give me plenty of Grog, and a good Commander, and I warrant you I'll shave the Don’s whiskers, and as to MOUNSEER, if I comes athwart his hawser again, I'll shiver his jib, and dowse his three-coloured rag, and revenge the death of Mat Mizen, d-------n me — I beg your honour’s pardon for swearing, but it’s a way I have — however I still say, if I get in Mounseer’s wake, I'll back his top-sails, split my Timbers.
In an Arthur Conan Doyle story entitled “The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard,” an English character uses the term to the narrator, who is French:
“We know so much about fighting in France, that we have paid our little visit to nearly every capital in Europe, and very soon we are coming to London. But we fight like soldiers, you understand, and not like gamins in the gutter. You strike me on the head. I kick you on the knee. It is child’s play. But if you will give me a sword, and take another one, I will show you how we fight over the water.”
They both stared at me in their solid, English way.
“Well, I'm glad you’re not dead, mounseer,” said the elder one at last. “There wasn’t much sign of life in you when the Bustler and me carried you down. That head of yours ain’t thick enough to stop the crook of the hardest hitter in Bristol.”
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