This 1903 book is a tongue-in-cheek send-up of English people and subjects. Within the humor (or humour), the listener may be surprised by some diamond-hard observations. The listener is also alerted to some attitudes of a different time that would not be acceptable in today's polite discourse. Here writing as “Angus McNeil”, a Scotsman, Crosland was a British author, poet, and journalist.
By : T. W. H. Crosland (c. 1865 - 1924)
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It has become the Englishman's habit, one might almost say the Englishman's instinct, to take himself for the head and front of the universe. The order of creation began, we are told, in protoplasm. It has achieved at length the Englishman. Herein are the culmination and ultimate glory of evolutionary processes. Nature, like the seventh-standard boy in a board school, "can get no higher." She has made the Englishman, and her work therefore is done. For the continued progress of the world and all that in it is, the Englishman will make due provision. He knows exactly what is wanted, and by himself it shall be supplied. There is little that can be considered distinguishingly English which does not reflect this point of view. As an easy-going, entirely confident, imperturbable piece of arrogance, the Englishman has certainly no mammalian compeer. Even in the blackest of his troubles he perceives that he is great. "I shall muddle through," he says. He is expected and understood to muddle through; and, muddle through or not, he invariably believes he has done it. Sheer complacency bolsters him up on every hand. At his going forth the rest of the world is fain to abase itself in the dust. He is the strong man, the white man of white men. He is the rich, clean sportsman, the incomparable, the fearless, the intolerable. And by "Englishman" the world has learned not to mean "Briton." The world has been taught to discriminate. It has regarded the Britannic brotherhood; and though it forgets that the Gael and the Celt are Britons, it takes its Englishman for a Briton, only with a difference. On the other hand, it is keenly sensible of sundry facts—as that it is the Englishman who rules the waves and the Englishman upon whose dominions the sun never sets; that the British flag is the English flag, the British army the English army, and the British navy the English navy, and that Scotland and Ireland, with Wales, are English appanages. It would be foolish to assert that the Englishman has greatly concerned himself in either the promulgation or the acceptance of these notions. But he holds them dear, and they are ineradicably planted in his subconsciousness.
One is inclined to think, however, that, while the supremacy and superiority of the Englishman have been received without traverse in his own dominions, there are those in outer darkness—on the Continent, in Ireland, and even in Scotland—who admit no such supremacy and no such superiority. Nay, there be persons breathing the breath of life who, so far from looking upon the Englishman with the eyes with which the early savage must have regarded Captain Cook, look upon him with the eyes with which Captain Cook regarded the early savage. In Ireland, particularly, hatred of the English has become a deep-grounded national characteristic. The French dislike of perfidious Albion may be reckoned to a great extent an intermittent matter. It sputters and flares when a Fashoda or a Boer War comes along, and it has a way of finding its deadliest expression in caricature. But the Irish hatred is as persistent and concrete as it is ancient. In Scotland the feeling about the English amounts in the main to good-humoured tolerance, touched with a certain amazement. The least cultivated of Scotsmen—and such a man is quite a different being from the least cultivated of Englishmen—will tell you that "thae English" are chiefly notable by reason of their profound ignorance and a ridiculous passion for the dissipation of money. The Scot of the middle class thinks his neighbour is a feckless, foolish person who would pass muster if he could be serious, and who has got what he possesses by good luck rather than by good management. Up to a point both are right, for the English in the mass are at once much more ignorant and much less thrifty than the people of Scotland, and their good-nature and happy-go-luckiness are things to set a Scot moralising...
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