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This ideal of self-repression, then, is, whatever else it is, not English.
It is, perhaps, somewhat Oriental, it is slightly Prussian, but in
the main it does not come, I think, from any racial or national source.
It is, as I have said, in some sense aristocratic; it comes
not from a people, but from a class. Even aristocracy, I think,
was not quite so stoical in the days when it was really strong.
But whether this unemotional ideal be the genuine tradition of
the gentleman, or only one of the inventions of the modern gentleman
(who may be called the decayed gentleman), it certainly has something
to do with the unemotional quality in these society novels.
From representing aristocrats as people who suppressed their feelings,
it has been an easy step to representing aristocrats as people who had no
feelings to suppress. Thus the modern oligarchist has made a virtue for
the oligarchy of the hardness as well as the brightness of the diamond.
Like a sonneteer addressing his lady in the seventeenth century,
he seems to use the word "cold" almost as a eulogium, and the word
"heartless" as a kind of compliment. Of course, in people so incurably
kind-hearted and babyish as are the English gentry, it would be
impossible to create anything that can be called positive cruelty;
so in these books they exhibit a sort of negative cruelty.
They cannot be cruel in acts, but they can be so in words.
All this means one thing, and one thing only. It means that the living
and invigorating ideal of England must be looked for in the masses;
it must be looked for where Dickens found it--Dickens among whose glories
it was to be a humorist, to be a sentimentalist, to be an optimist,
to be a poor man, to be an Englishman, but the greatest of whose glories
was that he saw all mankind in its amazing and tropical luxuriance,
and did not even notice the aristocracy; Dickens, the greatest
of whose glories was that he could not describe a gentleman.