could produce costumes quite as queer as the kilt; I believe that England has heroes fully as untranslateable as Brian Boru, and consequently I believe that Edward VII. is, among his innumerable other functions, really King of England.  If my Scotch friends insist, let us call it one of his quite obscure, unpopular, and minor titles; one of his relaxations.  A little while ago he was Duke of Cornwall; but for a family accident he might still have been King of Hanover.  Nor do I think that we should blame the simple Cornishmen if they spoke of him in a rhetorical moment by his Cornish title, nor the well-meaning Hanoverians if they classed him with Hanoverian Princes.

Now it so happens that in the passage complained of I said the King of England merely because I meant the King of England.  I was speaking strictly and especially of English Kings, of Kings in the tradition of the old Kings of England.  I wrote as an English nationalist keenly conscious of the sacred boundary of the Tweed that keeps (or used to keep) our ancient enemies at bay.  I wrote as an English nationalist resolved for one wild moment to throw off the tyranny of the Scotch and Irish who govern and oppress my country.  I felt that England was at least spiritually guarded against these surrounding nationalities.  I dreamed that the Tweed was guarded by the ghosts of Scropes and Percys; I dreamed that St. George’s Channel was guarded by St. George.  And in this insular security I spoke deliberately and specifically of the King of England, of the representative of the Tudors and Plantagenets.  It is true that the two Kings of England, of whom I especially spoke, Charles II. and George III., had both an alien origin, not very recent and not very remote.  Charles II. came of a family originally Scotch.  George III. came of a family originally German.  But the same, so far as that goes, could be said of the English royal houses when England stood quite alone.  The Plantagenets were originally a French family.  The Tudors were originally a Welsh family.  But I was not talking of the amount of English sentiment in the English Kings.  I was talking of the amount of English sentiment in the English treatment and popularity of the English Kings.  With that Ireland and Scotland have nothing whatever to do.

Charles II. may, for all I know, have not only been King of Scotland; he may, by virtue of his temper and ancestry, have been a Scotch King of Scotland.  There was something Scotch about his combination of clear-headedness with sensuality.  There was something Scotch about his combination of doing what he liked with knowing what he was doing.  But I was not talking of the personality of Charles, which may have been Scotch.  I was talking of the popularity of Charles, which was certainly English.  One thing is quite certain:  whether or no he ever ceased to be a Scotch man, he ceased as soon as he conveniently could to be a Scotch King.  He had actually tried the experiment of being a national ruler