for a living. They have already had their will
with the existing English state, until now that state
is far more the servant of the people in fetching
and carrying, in guarding them from hard masters and
succoring them in their need, than the republic which
professes to derive its just powers from the consent
of the governed. When one encounters this sort
of Englishman, one thinks silently of the child labor
in the South, of the monopolies in the North, of the
companies which govern while they serve us, and one
hopes that the Englishman is not silently thinking
of them too. He is probably of the lower classes,
and one consoles one’s self as one can by holding
one’s head higher in better company, where,
without secret self-contempt, one can be more openly
proud of our increasing fortunes and our increasing
territory, and our warlike adequacy to a first position
among the nations of the world. There is no fear
that in such company one’s national susceptibilities
will be wounded, or that one will not be almost as
much admired for one’s money as at home.
I do not say quite, because there are still things
in England even more admired than money. Certainly
a very rich American would be considered in such English
society, but certainly he would not be so much considered
as an equally rich Englishman who was also a duke.
I cannot name a nobleman of less rank, because I will
not belittle my rich countryman, but perhaps the English
would think differently, and would look upon him as
lower than the latest peer or the newest knight of
the King’s creation. The King, who has
no power, can do almost anything in England; and his
touch, which is no longer sovereign for scrofula,
can add dignity and give absolute standing to a man
whose achievements merit it, but who with us would
fail of anything like it. The English system is
more logical than ours, but not so reasonable.
The English have seen from the beginning inequality
and the rule of the few. We can hardly prove
that we see, in the future, equality and the rule
of the many. Yet our vision is doubtless prophetic,
whatever obliquities our frequent astigmatism may
impart to it. Meantime, in its ampler range there
is room for the play of any misgiving short of denial;
but the English cannot doubt the justice of what they
have seen without forming an eccentric relation to
the actual fact. The Englishman who refuses the
formal recognition of his distinction by his prince
is the anomaly, not the Englishman who accepts it.
Gladstone who declines a peerage is anomalous, not
Tennyson who takes it. As part of the English
system, as a true believer in the oligarchically administered
monarchy, Gladstone was illogical, and Tennyson was
logical.
THE END
Copyrights
Seven English Cities from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.