MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOLSON
0 F the many gifts which the English possess, the most engaging to my mind is their inextinguishable optimism. The Scots, being a clear-headed race, are less optimistic ; the Welsh, I am assured, are not optimistic in the least. But whole continents may sink like Atlantis below the waves, whole empires may dissolve before their very eyes, and the English will persist in persuading themselves that all this misfortune has been designed as some blessing in disguise and that it is certain to be fine on Sunday. The more superficial among foreign observers, being irritated by this habit of evasion, are apt to ascribe it to our well- known hypocrisy, forgetting that hypocrisy comes from a desire to deceive others rather than from a desire to deceive oneself. Yet some more serious students of the English temperament have con- tended that it all derives from our extreme dislike of emotional or intellectual discomfort. Such critics aver that the English are the most spiritually indolent of all peoples, and that they have in the process of evolution developed a faculty for not facing facts, which is something more"than an ordinary psychological escape from pain, and amounts to a biological phenomenon. I am tempted, when foreign critics say these cruel things, to reply that it was not by optimism alone that we produced the greatest literature in the world, that we civilised a quarter of the earth's surface, and that we became pioneers and inventors in many important branches of industry and science. I am tempted even to remark that, however valuable an asset our optimism became for us in 1940 and the grim years that followed, there were, other qualities also which enabled us to stand and endure alone. Yet although I tend, when English institutions or the English character are criticised by foreigners, to become extravagantly patriotic, I admit that when I am alone with my own beloved compatriots there are moments, and not infrequent moments, when I feel that there may be some truth in all the ingenious and idiotic things which the foreign observer is apt to say.
The cause of our optimism is not solely a desire to escape from unpleasant thoughts or feelings ; it is also generated by an equable and bracing climate, by healthy if ill-cooked food, by the practice of taking regular exercise, by many centuries of independence, and by a long if untenable tradition that the English are always virtuous and never beaten. It is fortified. moreover, by the assumption that our virtues are apparent, not to ourselves only, but also to the other less privileged inhabitants of this large globe. It derives, in fact, from a deep and quite modest conviction that we are a most deserving people, and that, whatever unhappy incidents may occur in our rough island story, the general trend of destiny will ensure that we become better and better all the time. I do not deny that this great reservoir of self-assurance, obnoxious though it may be to outsiders, does, in fact, constitute a valuable national asset. It provides us, in times of stress, with a reserve of energy and resolution. And how- ever irritating may be the varied forms of national vanity, they are preferable to the tragic internal maladies which 'afflict those peoples who have lost their own self-confidence, and are in danger thereby of also losing their self-respect. I should not like to see the English becoming too self-critical ; it is a debilitating and un-English thing to become.
* * * * There are occasions, however, when our infinite capacity for making virtues of necessities causes me to catch my breath. I should not dream, for instance, of denying that it had become necessary to accord independence to India and Pakistan. I admit, moreover, that the skill shown by Lord Mountbatten and the Prime Minister has enabled us to extricate ourselves from a difficult position with credit and honour. The former, by his vivid and sincere sympathy with Indian aspirations, by the actual charm of his personality, succeeded in draining off the poisons of bitterness from this sad divorce. The latter, by the power of his integrity, has now been able to prevent
India from severing all connection with the Commonwealth. The whole transaction has been most ably handled, and that in itself is a cause for congratulation, even for self-congratulation. But that does not mean that the loss of the brightest jewel in the Imperial crown is an agreeable event, as some people seem to have persuaded themselves. It is a disagreeable event which might have been even more disagreeable had it not been managed with such skill and rectitude. Nor do I feel that the Declaration published after the meeting of the representatives of the Commonwealth countries will strike foreign observers as a masterpiece of logic. To their jaundiced eyes it may seem to be self-contradictory in that in the same para- graph it says that India will no longer recognise the King as sovereign, and that India will continue to recognise the King as Head of the Commonwealth. I am not suggesting that the Declaration is anything but a valuable and ingeniously drafted document. All I am saying is that it is somewhat too optimistic to hail as the advent of a new era of fraternity a deed of separation which must inevitably leave many delicate problems still unsolved.
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Let me take another recent example of this our national tendency to ease the smart of misfortune by exaggerating incidental solaces. The Chinese Communists cross the Yangtse, occupy the capital and advance on Shanghai. This in all certainty is a highly disagreeable event. It may mean that, while we are straining every nerve to save the western tip of Europe, the Russians will succeed in securing control of vast areas of Asia with the immense resources and man- power therein contained. It may be true, as some experts aver, that the Chinese Communists will not take their orders from Moscow, and that the situation may settle down, or disintegrate, into more manageable form. Yet on the face of it the Western world has during the last five weeks suffered a major defeat in China, the consequences of which even the most eupeptic expert cannot honestly predict. The pain and apprehension which the prospect of such alarming potentialities must cause to all men of good will is, as Wordsworth would certainly have said, " permanent, obscure and dark, and shares the nature of infinity." Yet such is our tendency to avoid the contemplation of the unpleasant that we switch off into comforting thoughts about the heroism displayed by the wireless operator in the ' Amethyst.' Let it not be said that I am mitigating the courage of that brave boy ; the tough sense of duty which he and his shipmates displayed does assuredly fortify our faith in the qualities of the younger generation. All I am saying is that the efficiency and valour displayed by the officers and men of the `Amethyst' should not be allowed to obscure the fact that the Communists have crossed the Yangtse and that all organised resist- ance against them appears for the moment to have collapsed. This is the central and most lamentable fact.
It is, I suppose, an amiable defect to be always seeking for the silver lining in every cloud. But it is not an eccentricity which is of much value in a typhoon. I am sure that many readers of this article will lay it down, or throvi it down, with a feeling of acute displeasure, accusing me of being guilty of " bad taste." That curious term is frequently applied by Englishmen to those who seek to dispel their illusions or to strip their excuses and evasions bare. It was this national wincing away from the disagreeable which beguiled us, applauding loudly, along the primrose path which led to Munich. I know that it is nicer to feel all warm and comfortable inside. But the world today does not mean to be warm or com- fortable. And it is a better thing, even if it causes momentary offence, to remark that the Emperor has no clothes at all, than to laud his bangles and brocade. A better thing even to say foolish things boldly, as that dear man, the President of the Royal Academy, said things boldly about Picasso and Matisse.
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