The Scotsman, in many ways, regards the Englishman from the same angle as the American. He shares the American's unconcealed anxiety to get to the root of the matter, and cannot understand a man who pretends that he does not want to get to the root of the matter, too. To a Scotsman, "ma career" (as John Shand used to call it in Barrie's play) is the one important fact of life; and although the most reserved creature in the world, he possesses none of the Englishman's self-consciousness; and it never occurs to him to do anything so palpably insincere as to disown his legitimate ambitions. To a Scotsman, then, the English are a frivolous, feckless race, devoid of ambition, and incapable of handling weighty matters with the required degree of seriousness. So he comes to London and takes the helm. To-day a Scot is leading the British Army in France,[1] another is commanding the British Grand Fleet at sea,[2] while a third directs the Imperial General Staff at home.[3] The Lord Chancellor is a Scot[4]; so are the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Foreign Secretary.[5] (The Prime Minister is a Welshman[6], and The First Lord of the Admiralty is an Irishman.[7]) Yet no one has ever yet brought in a bill to give Home Rule to England!

Take the Dominions again. What is the attitude of Canada, Australasia, and South Africa to the mother country? Well, previous to the War it must be confessed that the sons of the Empire regarded their parent with a certain good-humoured tolerance, not unmixed with irritation. The British Dominions overseas are peopled by an essentially independent and sturdy race. They are descended from folk who left their native land and braved the unknown, not because they were sent, but because an adventurous spirit bade them go forth and better themselves. The British colonies and dominions were all founded by younger sons, or men in search of a career. They were never in the first instance fathered by the State, as such. It was only after British interests in these distant lands grew too great and unwieldy for private control that the British Government reluctantly and tardily took over their management officially. Men sprung from such a stock are naturally impatient of stay-at-home folk who regard the British Empire as "England," and who speak patronisingly of "Colonials."

These little differences were purely superficial, and by the subtle irony of fate it was left to Germany to demonstrate how very superficial they were. But they undoubtedly existed, very largely owing to the fact that some—only some—of the later immigrants into the Dominions were of a less hardy and desirable type than formerly—men who had come abroad not from any spirit of enterprise or adventure, but because they had been a failure at home. Such men were neither industrious nor adaptable. It was this class that was responsible for the occasional appearance in Canada and Australia of the legend: "No English need apply." Another injustice to England as a whole!

India, again. Here "Pax, Britannica" exists in its highest and most creditable form. India is mainly governed by English university men, selected after laborious preparation and searching examination, from all walks of life. Each of these men is a living exemplification of the British supreme talent—the talent for efficient departmental work in a subordinate position. He may rule a district containing several million souls, and so long as he rules it, he will rule justly according to his lights, and he will not make a penny out of the operation. In due course he will return to England, and live in honourable obscurity upon a modest pension. But all this will not save him from being denounced as a tyrant and interloper. The hill tribes of the north will cast resentful glances upon the man who represents the power which holds them back from the delectable plunderland of the south; while in Bengal over-educated Babus will bleat indignantly, regardless of the inevitable consequences to their property and their women, for the immediate withdrawal of the officious and unnecessary British rule from India. A thankless existence, my masters, yet somehow worth while, despite endless drudgery, absence of personal distinction, and years of absence from home and children. The Ship goes forward!

On the Continent of Europe, again, the English are regarded with varying degrees of affection or dislike; but their appraisers are all unanimous in regarding them as slightly demented. To the French, for instance, the English Tommy, with his uncanny frivolity in the face of death, his passion for tea and jam, and his eternal football games behind the trenches, is a standing enigma and jest. But Frenchmen will always remember how the little British Army hurled itself to certain destruction, in August, 1914, at the mere call of friendship, and French women will never, never forget the exemplary behaviour of the British soldiers toward the civil population behind the line.

As for the German, his opinion can be succinctly summarised. Before the War he regarded the Englishman from a military point of view as a negligible quantity, from the commercial point of view as a back-number, and from the diplomatic point of view as the easiest thing on earth. Now, according to latest official intelligence from Potsdam, it was the reptile statesmanship of England that conspired with France and Russia to invade peaceful Germany, and it is "English gold" that has lured the people of America to disastrous participation in the common doom of the Allies. As a soldier, the Englishman has done better than Potsdam expected: but only by shameful contravention of the usages of war. The Prussian is a great stickler for etiquette in this respect. War to him, whether he be emitting chlorine gas or sinking a hospital ship, is a serious—nay, sacred—business. But the imbecile English persist in regarding war as a game. What is worse, they win the game. Not long ago a regiment of "Kitchener's Army" captured a strongly fortified village from the Prussian Guard. That was bad enough, but the manner in which it was done amounted to nothing less than an outrageous breach of professional etiquette. They went to the assault kicking a football! Their commander kicked off, and they never stopped until they had kicked the ball, riddled with bullets, into the trench and captured the garrison. And yet the English have the temerity to complain of German breaches of International Law! Yes, I fear the English are most harshly spoken of in Germany just now.

There remains one other point of view to consider, and that is the Irish point of view. It must have a chapter to itself. Ireland usually gets a chapter to herself.

CHAPTER FOUR