As a Scotsman, the English people have my profound sympathy.
In the comic papers of all countries the Englishman is depicted--or was
in the days of peace--as stupid, purseproud, thick-skinned, arrogant,
and tyrannical. In practice, what is he? The whipping-boy of the British
Empire.
In the War of to-day, for instance, whenever anything particularly
unpleasant or unpopular has to be done--such as holding up neutral
mails, or establishing a blacklist of neutral firms trading with the
enemy--upon whom does the odium fall? Upon "England"; never upon France,
and only occasionally upon Great Britain. The people and press
interested thunder against "England's Arrogance." Again, in the neutral
days, when an American newspaper published a pro-British article,
Potsdam complained peevishly that the entire American Press was being
bribed with "English" gold. A German school teacher is greeted by her
infant class with the amiable formula: "Good morning, teacher. _Gott
strafe England!_" (Never "Britain," as a Scotsman once very rightly
complained to me.) On the other hand, when there is any credit going
round--say, for the capture of a hitherto impregnable ridge on the
Western Front--to whom is that credit assigned? Well, it depends. If the
Canadians took the ridge, Canada gets the credit; and the world's press
(including the press of London and England generally) pays due tribute
to the invincible valour of the men from the Dominions. Or, if a
Scottish or Irish regiment took the ridge, the official report from
General Headquarters makes appreciative reference to the fact. But how
often do we see the phrase: "The ridge was stormed, under heavy fire, by
an English regiment?" Practically never. A victory gained by English
boys from Devon or Yorkshire appears as a British victory, pure and
simple.
Now why? Why should the credit for the good deeds of the British Empire
be ascribed to those respectively responsible--except the English--while
the odium for the so-called bad deeds is lumped on to England alone? To
a certain extent, England herself is to blame. When a Scotsman speaks of
Scotland he means Scotland. An Irishman, when he speaks of Ireland,
means Ireland and nowhere else. But when an Englishman speaks of
"England," he may mean Scotland, or Ireland, or even Canada! This
playful habit of assuming that England is the Empire, and that the
Empire is England, does not always make for imperial fraternity, even
though in the vast majority of cases not the slightest offence is
intended. To the average Englishman it seems simpler to say "England."
But there are other and deeper reasons. England is a big nation, while
the others are small. There are more people in London than in the whole
of Scotland, or Ireland, or, until recent years, Canada. And a small
nation is always intensely sensitive, and assertive, of its own
nationality. The English, too, are an exceedingly placid nation. Their
enemies call them self-satisfied, but this is hardly just. Scotsmen and
Irishmen celebrate the mysteries of St. Andrew's Day and St. Patrick's
Day with a fervour only equalled by that of the average American citizen
on the Fourth of July. But if you were to ask the average Englishman
the date of St. George's Day, he probably would not be able to tell you:
and under no circumstances would he dream of celebrating the occasion.
"Of course I am proud of being an Englishman," he says in effect; "but
everybody realizes that. So why advertise the fact unnecessarily? Why
make a cantata about it?"
It is this same attitude of mind which causes an Englishman to care
little, provided a piece of work is _well_ done for the cause in which
he is interested, who gathers the credit. Instinct and tradition have
taught him to set the cause above the prize. It is this characteristic
which makes him such an amazingly successful subordinate official,
whether in the Services or in commerce. He is not vitally interested to
climb to the top. His job, for its own sake, suffices him. He is content
to work below the waterline, and if the Ship goes forward he is
satisfied. So he smiles paternally on these aggressively patriotic
little brethren of his; allows them to absorb all possible credit for
their respective achievements; and philosophically shoulders the
responsibility for the shortcomings of the British Empire. It saves
trouble; it saves explanation; and an average Englishman would rather be
scalped than explain.
This stoical attitude is all very well, but it can undoubtedly be
carried too far. Patience is a virtue, but an overthick skin is not. The
courage of one's convictions can sometimes merge into blind indifference
to the opinions of other people. From here it is a mere step to "You be
damned!"
Let us consider the Englishman as he appears to the other inhabitants of
the globe, be they relatives, friends, or foes.