Notes on the English Character by EM Forster.docx

1、Notes on the English Character by EM ForsterFirst note. I had better let the cat out of the bag at once and record my opinion that the character of the English is essentially middle class. There is a sound historical reason for this, for, since the end of the eighteenth century, the middle classes h

2、ave been the dominant force in our community. They gained wealth by the Industrial Revolution, political power by the Reform Bill of 1832; they are connected with the rise and organization of the British Empire; they are responsible for the literature of the nineteenth century. Solidity, caution, in

3、tegrity, efficiency. Lack of imagination, hypocrisy. These qualities characterize the middle classes in every country, but in England they are national characteristics also, because only in England have the middle classes been in power for one hundred and fifty years. Napoleon, in his rude way, call

4、ed us a nation of shopkeepers. We prefer to call ourselves a great commercial nation - it sounds more dignified - but the two phrases amount to the same. Of course there are other classes: there is an aristocracy, there are the poor. But it is on the middle classes that the eye of the critic rests -

5、 just as it rests on the poor in Russia and on the aristocracy in Japan. Russia is symbolized by the peasant or by the factory worker; Japan by the samurai; the national figure of England is Mr. Bull with his top hat, his comfortable clothes, his substantial stomach, and his substantial balance at t

6、he bank. Saint George may caper on banners and in the speeches of politicians, but it is John Bull who delivers the goods. And even Saint George- if Gibbon is correct- wore a top hat once; he was an army contractor and supplied indifferent bacon. It all amounts to the same in the end. Second Note. J

7、ust as the heart of England is the middle classes, so the heart of the middle classes is the public school system. This extraordinary institution is local. It does not even exist all over the British Isles. It is unknown in Ireland, almost unknown in Scotland (countries excluded from my survey), and

8、 though it may inspire other great institutions-Aligarh, for example, and some of the schools in the United States-it remains unique, because it was created by the Anglo-Saxon middle classes, and can flourish only where they flourish. How perfectly it expresses their character - far better for insta

9、nce, than does the university, into which social and spiritual complexities have already entered. With its boarding-houses, its compulsory games, its system of prefects and fagging, its insistence on good form and on esprit de corps, it produces a type whose weight is out of all proportion to its nu

10、mbers. On leaving his school, the boy either sets to work at once - goes into the army or into business, or emigrates - or else proceeds to the university, and after three or four years there enters some other profession - becomes a barrister, doctor, civil servant, schoolmaster, or journalist. (If

11、through some mishap he does not become a manual worker or an artist.) In all these careers his education, or the absence of it, influences him. Its memories influence him also. Many men look back on their school days as the happiest of their lives. They remember with regret that golden time when lif

12、e, though hard, was not yet complex, when they all worked together and played together and thought together, so far as they thought at all; when they were taught that school is the world in miniature and believed that no one can love his country who does not love his school. And they prolong that ti

13、me as best they can by joining their Old Boys society: indeed, some of them remain Old Boys and nothing else for the rest of their lives. They attribute all good to the school. They worship it. They quote the remark that The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton. It is nothing to

14、them that the remark is inapplicable historically and was never made by the Duke of Wellington, and that the Duke of Wellington was an Irishman. They go on quoting it because it expresses their sentiments; they feel that if the Duke of Wellington didnt make it he ought to have, and if he wasnt an En

15、glishman he ought to have been. And they go forth into a world that is not entirely composed of public-school men or even of Anglo-Saxons, but of men who are as various as the sands of the sea; into a world of whose richness and subtlety they have no conception. They go forth into it with well-devel

16、oped bodies, fairly developed minds, and undeveloped hearts. And it is this undeveloped heart that is largely responsible for the difficulties of Englishmen abroad. An undeveloped heart-not a cold one. The difference is important, and on it my next note will be based. For it is not that the Englishm

17、an cant feel - it is that he is afraid to feel. He has been taught at his public school that feeling is bad form. He must not express great joy or sorrow, or even open his mouth too wide when he talks-his pipe might fall out if he did. He must bottle up his emotions, or let them out only on a very s

18、pecial occasion. Once upon a time (this is an anecdote) I went for a weeks holiday on the Continent with an Indian friend. We both enjoyed ourselves and were sorry when the week was over, but on parting our behaviour was absolutely different. He was plunged in despair. He felt that because the holid

19、ay was over all happiness was over until the world ended. He could not express his sorrow too much. But in me the Englishman came out strong. I reflected that we should meet again in a month or two, and could write in the interval if we had anything to say; and under these circumstances I could not

20、see what there was to make a fuss about. It wasnt as if we were parting forever or dying. Buck up, I said, do buck up. He refused to buck up, and I left him plunged in gloom. The conclusion of the anecdote is even more instructive. For when we met the next month our conversation threw a good deal of

21、 light on the English character. I began by scolding my friend. I told him that he had been wrong to feel and display so much emotion upon so slight an occasion; that it was inappropriate. The word inappropriate roused him to fury. What? he cried. Do you measure out your emotions as if they were pot

22、atoes? I did not like the simile of the potatoes, but after a moments reflection I said: Yes, I do; and whats more, I think I ought to. A small occasion demands a little emotion just as a large occasion demands a great one. I would like my emotions to be appropriate. This may be measuring them like

23、potatoes, but it is better than slopping them about like water from a pail, which is what you did. He did not like the simile of the pail. If those are your opinions, they part us forever, he cried, and left the room. Returning immediately, he added: No-but your whole attitude toward emotion is wron

24、g. Emotion has nothing to do with appropriateness. It matters only that it shall be sincere. I happened to feel deeply. I showed it. It doesnt matter whether I ought to have felt deeply or not. This remark impressed me very much. Yet I could not agree with it, and said that I valued emotion as much

25、as he did, but used it differently; if I poured it out on small occasions I was afraid of having none left for the great ones, and of being bankrupt at the crises of life. Note the word bankrupt. I spoke as a member of a prudent middle-class nation, always anxious to meet my liabilities, but my frie

26、nd spoke as an Oriental, and the Oriental has behind him a tradition, not of middle-class prudence but of kingly munificence and splendour. He feels his resources are endless, just as John Bull feels his are finite. As regards material resources, the Oriental is clearly unwise. Money isnt endless. I

27、f we spend or give away all the money we have, we havent any more, and must take the consequences, which are frequently unpleasant. But, as regards the resources of the spirit, he may be right. The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express. True love in this

28、differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away. Says Shelley. Shelley, at all events, believes that the wealth of the spirit is endless; that we may express it copiously, passionately, and always; that we can never feel sorrow or joy too acutely. In the above anecdote, I have figured

29、 as a typical Englishman. I will now descend from that dizzy and somewhat unfamiliar height, and return to my business of notetaking. A note on the slowness of the English character. The Englishman appears to be cold and unemotional because he is really slow. When an event happens, he may understand

30、 it quickly enough with his mind, but he takes quite a while to feel it. Once upon a time a coach, containing some Englishmen and some Frenchmen, was driving over the Alps. The horses ran away, and as they were dashing across a bridge the coach caught on the stonework, tottered, and nearly fell into

31、 the ravine below. The Frenchmen were frantic with terror: they screamed and gesticulated and flung themselves about, as Frenchmen would. The Englishmen sat quite calm. An hour later, the coach drew up at an inn to change horses, and by that time the situations were exactly reversed. The Frenchmen h

32、ad forgotten all about the danger, and were chattering gaily; the Englishmen had just begun to feel it, and one had a nervous breakdown and was obliged to go to bed. We have here a clear physical difference between the two races-a difference that goes deep into character. The Frenchmen responded at

33、once; the Englishmen responded in time. They were slow and they were also practical. Their instinct forbade them to throw themselves about in the coach, because it was more likely to tip over if they did. They had this extraordinary appreciation of fact that we shall notice again and again. When a disaster comes, th