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Chapter IX - CockayneChapter IX - Cockayne
Chapter IX - Cockayne
The English are a nation of humorists. Individual right is pushed to the
uttermost bound compatible with public order. Property is so perfect, that it
seems the craft of that race, and not to exist elsewhere. The king cannot step
on an acre which the peasant refuses to sell. A testator endows a dog or a
rookery, and Europe cannot interfere with his absurdity. Every individual has
his particular way of living, which he pushes to folly, and the decided
sympathy of his compatriots is engaged to back up Mr. Crump`s whim by
statutes, and chancellors, and horse-guards. There is no freak so ridiculous
but some Englishman has attempted to immortalize by money and law. British
citizenship is as omnipotent as Roman was. Mr. Cockayne is very sensible of
this. The pursy man means by freedom the right to do as he pleases, and does
wrong in order to feel his freedom, and makes a conscience of persisting in
it.
He is intensely patriotic, for his country is so small. His confidence in
the power and performance of his nation makes him provokingly incurious about
other nations. He dislikes foreigners. Swedenborg, who lived much in England,
notes "the similitude of minds among the English, in consequence of which they
contract familiarity with friends who are of that nation, and seldom with
others: and they regard foreigners, as one looking through a telescope from
the top of a palace regards those who dwell or wander about out of the city."
A much older traveller, the Venetian who wrote the "Relation of England,"^1 in
1500, says: - "The English are great lovers of themselves, and of everything
belonging to them. They think that there are no other men than themselves, and
no other world but England; and, whenever they see a handsome foreigner, they
say that he looks like an Englishman, and it is a great pity he should not be
an Englishman; and whenever they partake of any delicacy with a foreigner,
they ask him whether such a thing is made in his country." When he adds
epithets of praise, his climax is "so English"; and when he wishes to pay you
the highest compliment, he says, I should not know you from an Englishman.
France is, by its natural contrast, a kind of black-board on which English
character draws its own traits in chalk. This arrogance habitually exhibits
itself in allusions to the French. I suppose that all men of English blood in
America, Europe, or Asia, have a secret feeling of joy that they are not
French natives. Mr. Coleridge is said to have given public thanks to God, at
the close of a lecture, that he had defended him from being able to utter a
single sentence in the French language. I have found that Englishmen have such
a good opinion of England, that the ordinary phrases, in all good society, of
postponing or disparaging one`s own things in talking with a stranger are
seriously mistaken by them for an insuppressible homage to the merits of their
nation; and the New Yorker or Pennsylvanian who modestly laments the
disadvantage of a new country, log huts, and savages, is surprised by the
instant and unfeigned commiseration of the whole company, who plainly account
all the world out of England a heap of rubbish.
[Footnote 1: Printed by the Camden Society.]
The same insular limitation pinches his foreign politics. He sticks to
his traditions and usages, and, so help him God! he will force his island by -
laws down the throat of great countries, like India, China, Canada, Australia,
and not only so, but impose Wapping on the Congress of Vienna, and trample
down all nationalities with his taxed boots. Lord Chatham goes for liberty,
and no taxation without representation; - for that is British law; but not a
hobnail shall they dare make in America, but buy their nails in England, - for
that also is British law; and the fact that British commerce was to be re-
created by the independence of America took them all by surprise.
In short, I am afraid that English nature is so rank and aggressive as to
be a little incompatible with every other. The world is not wide enough for
two.
But, beyond this nationality, it must be admitted, the island offers a
daily worship to the old Norse god Brage, celebrated among our Scandinavian
forefathers, for his eloquence and majestic air. The English have a steady
courage, that fits them for great attempts and endurance: they have also a
petty courage, through which every man delights in showing himself for what he
is, and in doing what he can; so that, in all companies, each of them has too
good an opinion of himself to imitate anybody. He hides no defect of his form,
features, dress, connection, or birthplace, for he thinks every circumstance
belonging to him comes recommended to you. If one of them have a bald, or a
red, or a green head, or bow legs, or a scar, or mark, or a paunch, or a
squeaking or a raven voice, he has persuaded himself that there is something
modish and becoming in it, and that it sits well on him.
But nature makes nothing in vain, and this little superfluity of self -
regard in the English brain is one of the secrets of their power and history.
For, it sets every man on being and doing what he really is and can. It takes
away a dodging, skulking, secondary air, and encourages a frank and manly
bearing, so that each man makes the most of himself, and loses no opportunity
for want of pushing. A man`s personal defects will commonly have with the rest
of the world precisely that importance which they have to himself. If he makes
light of them, so will other men. We all find in these a convenient metre of
character, since a little man would be ruined by the vexation. I remember a
shrewd politician, in one of our western cities, told me, "that he had known
several successful statesmen made by their foible." And another, and ex -
governor of Illinois, said to me, "If a man knew anything, he would sit in a
corner and be modest; but he is such an ignorant peacock, that he goes
bustling up and down, and hits on extraordinary discoveries."
There is also this benefit in brag, that the speaker is unconsciously
expressing his own ideal. Humor him by all means, draw it all out, and hold
him to it. Their culture generally enables the travelled English to avoid any
ridiculous extremes of this self-pleasing, and to give it an agreeable air.
Then the natural disposition is fostered by the respect which they find
entertained in the world for English ability. It was said of Louis XIV., that
his gait and air were becoming enough in so great a monarch, yet would have
been ridiculous in another man; so the prestige of the English name warrants a
certain confident bearing, which a Frenchman or Belgian could not carry. At
all events, they feel themselves at liberty to assume the most extraordinary
tone on the subject of English merits.
An English lady on the Rhine, hearing a German speaking of her party as
foreigners, exclaimed, "No, we are not foreigners; we are English; it is you
that are foreigners." They tell you daily, in London, the story of the
Frenchman and Englishman who quarrelled. Both were unwilling to fight, but
their companions put them up to it; at last, it was agreed that they should
fight alone, in the dark, and with pistols: the candles were put out, and the
Englishman, to make sure not to hit anybody, fired up the chimney, and brought
down the Frenchman. They have no curiosity about foreigners, and answer any
information you may volunteer with "Oh, oh!" until the informant makes up his
mind that they shall die in their ignorance for any help he will offer. There
are really no limits to this conceit, though brighter men among them make
painful efforts to be candid.
The habit of brag runs through all classes, from the Times newspaper
through politicians and poets, through Wordsworth, Carlyle, Mill, and Sydney
Smith, down to the boys of Eton. In the gravest treatise on political economy,
in a philosophical essay, in books of science, one is surprised by the most
innocent exhibition of unflinching nationality. In a tract on Corn, a most
amiable and accomplished gentleman writes thus: - "Though Britain, according
to Bishop Berkeley`s idea, were surrounded by a wall of brass ten thousand
cubits in height, still she would as far excel the rest of the globe in
riches, as she now does, both in this secondary quality, and in the more
important ones of freedom, virtue, and science."^2
[Footnote 2: William Spence.]
The English dislike the American structure of society, whilst yet trade,
mills, public education, and chartism are doing what they can to create in
England the same social condition. America is the paradise of the economists;
is the favorable exception invariably quoted to the rules of ruin; but when he
speaks directly of the Americans, the islander forgets his philosophy, and
remembers his disparaging anecdotes.
But this childish patriotism costs something, like all narrowness. The
English sway of their colonies has no root of kindness. They govern by their
arts and ability; they are more just than kind; and, whenever an abatement of
their power is felt, they have not conciliated the affection on which to rely.
Coarse local distinctions, as those of nation, province, or town, are
useful in the absence of real ones; but we must not insist on these accidental
lines. Individual traits are always triumphing over national ones. There is no
fence in metaphysics discriminating Greek, or English, or Spanish science.
Aesop, and Montaigne, Cervantes, and Saadi are men of the world; and to wave
our own flag at the dinner-table or in the University, is to carry the
boisterous dulness of a fire-club into a polite circle. Nature and destiny
are always on the watch for our follies. Nature trips us up when we strut; and
there are curious examples in history on this very point of national pride.
George of Cappadocia, born at Epiphania in Cilicia, was a low parasite,
who got a lucrative contract to supply the army with bacon. A rogue and
informer, he got rich, and was forced to run from justice. He saved his money,
embraced Arianism, collected a library, and got promoted by a faction to the
episcopal throne of Alexandria. When Julian came, A.D. 361, George was dragged
to prison; the prison was burst open by the mob, and George was lynched, as he
deserved. And this precious knave became, in good time, Saint George of
England, patron of chivalry, emblem of victory and civility, and the pride of
the best blood of the modern world.
Strange, that the solid truth-speaking Briton should derive from an
impostor. Strange, that the New World should have no better luck, - that broad
America must wear the name of a thief. Amerigo Vespucci, the pickle-dealer
at Seville, who went out, in 1499, a subaltern with Hojeda, and whose highest
naval rank was boatswain`s mate in an expedition that never sailed, managed in
this lying world to supplant Columbus, and baptize half the earth with his own
dishonest name. Thus nobody can throw stones. We are equally badly off in our
founders; and the false pickle-dealer is an offset to the false bacon -
seller.
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