Chapter 3 of The Character of Peoples by André Siegfried
Siegfried, a Frenchman mind you, writing in 1952, begins by geographically situating England, quoting Michel de l'Hôpital's concise definition: "England is an island".
And Siegfried rightly points out that despite England not being altogether an island in the modern context, the observation still holds significant weight. What strikes one even more than its insularity, he argues, is its smallness - being a mere 95,000 square miles, Great Britain even less, only 42% of the surface area of France and a tiny fraction of the global land surface.
But not so fast, as he reminds us that together with the Empire, or rather the Commonwealth as we prefer to call it nowadays, the territory under British influence amounted to more than a quarter of the total surface of the world. "It is not from its metropolitan territory proper that England draws her grandeur," he asserts. He finds it remarkable that 45 million people on this relatively small island have had such a decisive effect on the world, contributing immensely to Western civilisation.
This immediately highlights the "tremendous performance involved in building up a great power on such a narrow territorial basis", while also hinting at its inherent fragility and the "combination of really exceptional qualities" required for such an achievement and its centuries-long maintenance.
Siegfried then moves into the challenging realm of English psychology, declaring that "no subject is more difficult than the psychology of the English people". He notes the enduring fascination they hold for the French, citing numerous French writers who have shown a keen interest. Yet, he emphasises the fundamental differences, stating "there is nothing in our temperament or in our history which makes it easy for us to understand these neighbors of ours".
He personally feels like he's on "a new planet" upon arriving in London and finds it impossible to simultaneously understand the British and French points of view. He concludes rather definitively, "I don't know any two peoples who are less understandable to each other than the English and the French," even suggesting the Channel, despite its narrowness, is psychologically "as deep and as wide as an ocean".
To aid understanding, Siegfried proposes distinguishing between heredity, environment, and time. Regarding heredity, he acknowledges Great Britain's insular nature but stresses its close proximity to the European mainland, which determined its ethnic makeup through successive invasions. He lists them: "On an original Iberian pre uh Celtic basis a series of invasions imposed successive layers of Kelts Romans Saxons and Normans". He does remind us that the last major invasion was almost a thousand years prior.
He elaborates on these invasions:
- The Celtic invasion from the 4th century BC, introducing the Bretons and Gaels, their people, language, and civilisation.
- The Roman conquest from 55 BC to AD 410, a limited military occupation with a civil administration, primarily affecting the south, while the Gaels in Scotland remained unconquered. Siegfried believes its effects are still appreciable.
- The Germanic invasions between the 5th and 11th centuries, pushing the Celts west and leading to the settlement of Saxons and Scandinavians on the east coast and inland. He argues these invaders became the dominant factor, with the "English man of today is still essentially an Anglo-Saxon".
- The Norman conquest in 1066, similar to the Roman in being a military occupation followed by political dominion, bringing the French language, a political system, and a Romanized civilisation.
Siegfried notes that only the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon invasions were on a large numerical scale, introducing new human stock, while the Roman and Norman were primarily military conquests introducing new forms of government.
Importantly, he states that these waves did not overlap or combine. They followed each other in succession the one imposing itself on the previous one or pushing it out. They never fused.
He compares this to geological layers, each remaining separately visible, resulting in the fact that "even today the Celt is clearly distinguishable from the Anglo-Saxon". He believes the English self-perception directly depends on this historical formation, still perceptible in contemporary social structures, where distinctions between victors and vanquished, aristocrats and subordinates, though less sharp, remain relevant to English psychology.
Whether we're dealing with the Celts, Saxons, or Normans. He characterises the Celt as somewhat "eccentric and even a trifle erratic" but more brilliant as an individual, citing figures like George Bernard Shaw and Lloyd George. The Saxon, he says, is the "human backbone of England," the most authentic and national, the "John Bull" type with a Germanic side. The Norman, a one-time Scandinavian with Roman-French polish, is the "thoroughbred the more aristocratic and gentlemanly", with Norman-derived names still carrying weight.
He observes a historical shift in influence, with Anglo-Saxons and Normans once ruling, later altered somewhat by the democratic tide favouring the Kelt, questioning whether this change has been entirely beneficial.
Turning to the influence of insularity, Siegfried argues that England's destiny has been largely determined by her isolation, not in the sense of never being successfully invaded, but in the fact that for nine centuries since the Battle of Hastings in 1066, the North Sea and the English Channel have provided effective protection against further ethnic contact from the continent.
He acknowledges minor immigrations like the French Huguenots and later German and Jewish elements but stresses they were of individuals only. This leads him to suggest that England today has some difficulty in regarding herself as really European.
A second aspect of this isolation, he posits, is the "ethnic youth of the people". He contrasts the more than 2,000 years of French history with the shorter English historical record, suggesting this makes the Englishman "nearer nature than we are which also means he is nearer to primitive barbarism". He even admits to a possible French bias creeping in here.
This youth, he believes, gives the English a certain spontaneity and freshness but also an "infantility which we find very difficult to stomach". He recounts his experience as an interpreter during the First World War, marvelling at the infantile nature of the officers, contrasting their leisure activities with those of his French comrades. He even notes the particularly British "passion for playing with balls" as a national trait.
Next, Siegfried considers the geographic environment, concluding that the climate's influence is exceptionally decisive and obvious in England. He describes it as "a climate of the oceanic type temperament and without violent extremes not really cold though it can be very chilly and above all it is damp". He highlights the prevailing west wind and frequent rain with bright intervals.
He believes such a climate, while not severe, necessitates "a constant effort is necessary in order to survive. In England it takes a real effort to get out of bed". This, he suggests, explains the Englishman's tendency to rise late and start the day with a solid breakfast.
He even humorously connects his father's unusual demand for Burgundy in Glasgow in July to English alcoholic habits and notes the late sunrise compared to Mediterranean countries.
He argues that the English are not well-adapted to their climate, explaining their special behaviour and reactions. While mediocrities succumb to torpor, energetic individuals resist, their capacity for energy increasing in the act of resistance. He sees sport as a necessity, "the price of survival for the English," not merely a taste. This environment, he contends, provided an opportunity for Protestantism to develop its essential virtues of energy and self-conscious conscience, with expressions like "life is made to be lived not to be suffered and man is made to excel himself" fully embodying English tenacity.
Beyond climate, Siegfried considers England's position on the map, noting its historical status as a small, outlying island in the Middle Ages, outside the general flow of European life. However, from the 15th century onwards, with the Atlantic becoming a link due to the discovery of the New World, England transformed into a "sort of general broker to the world".
This gave rise to a contradiction between traditional insularity and international commercialism, which Siegfried believes is the very expression of English individuality. Though temperamentally insular, England's interests and universal links have forced her to live by international exchange. He finds this contradiction "concealed within each Englishman".
Shifting to English intelligence, Siegfried observes contradictory French opinions. Some, like Demolins, went into raptures about Anglo-Saxon superiority, praising their practical and expeditious ways in contrast to the French taste for literature.
However, a reaction followed, with some claiming the English were not intelligent at all, even citing a saying he struggles to pronounce. He dismisses this as impertinence, noting the English themselves seem to enjoy calling themselves stupid. Siegfried finds it takes considerable intelligence to make such a boast. He concludes that British intelligence is of a special kind, scorning French logic and pretending to be illogical.
They don't believe problems have neat, geometric solutions like the French do. Instead, they see solutions as temporary and requiring constant adjustment, like an old-time sailor adapting to changing winds and tides. He notes that the Chinese and Italians have also learned this lesson.
He contrasts this with the French desire for definitive solutions and their faith in man's intelligence, remarking that while almost all Frenchmen are intelligent, it doesn't necessarily lead to better outcomes.
The Englishman, he states, "quite shamelessly distrust distrusts brilliant intellects," admiring them with a degree of misgiving, preferring "those solid qualities which are a thousand times preferable" and favouring leaders who are "a trifle boring" and thus considered "safe".
He suggests they reject not intelligence or reason itself, but the French form of it. He quotes Sir Austin Chamberlain, who profoundly distrusted logic in politics, arguing that England's peaceful development compared to more logically-minded nations is because "instinct and experience alike teach us that human nature is not logical and it is unwise to treat political institutions as instruments of logic and that it is in wisely refraining from pressing conclusions to their logical end that the path of peaceful development and true reform is really found".
He describes this "deliberate absence of method" as itself a method, the English complacency in thinking "We'll muddle through somehow". He emphasises this is different from the French "Débrouillard," which implies ingenuity, whereas the English trust they will emerge successfully through floundering.
Constant success has led them to believe they succeed by their defects as much as their qualities, accounting for their complacency and refusal to necessarily improve.
He notes the convenient English self-deprecation as "stupid," allowing them to manoeuvre lightly in contradictions. He quotes Lord Curzon's formula "government goes by personality," arguing that English tenacity often prevails due to force of character, bringing them back to the essential element of moral strength, influenced by their Protestant background.
From a moral standpoint, Siegfried sees the Englishman as an individual, for whom religion and conduct are personal affairs, with a sense of personal responsibility and no need for absolution in the Catholic sense.
This "silent sense of duty" is a key feature, where an Englishman doing his job well seeks neither praise nor encouragement, considering such intervention an indiscretion. "It was my duty to do it and I have done it. That is all," he encapsulates their attitude, a national form of honour without vanity.
This conscience in work is facilitated by their willingness to obey and feel part of a discipline, not out of subjection but a "pride in doing a recognised duty which involves no sacrifice of dignity whatsoever discipline in liberty".
While inspired by Protestantism, England hasn't entirely rejected Catholicism, with the Anglican often having a real attraction to Catholic ceremonies, though they ultimately reject papal authority as foreign. This brings him back to insularity and the English claim for independence both domestically and abroad.
The Englishman, Siegfried states, is a true liberal, not imposing his ways but wanting to be left in peace, with a strong respect for private life.
However, this liberalism is "curiously tinged with indifference even with egotism," perhaps the best guarantee of its maintenance, as they respect your liberty partly because they are not very interested in you.
He finds something "not altogether civilised" about this and suggests they are less civilised than the French, with community and the solidarity of others meaning less to them. While unsure if they are contemptuous, he feels a discomfort between their respect for their own liberty and their near-disdain for what others think or do.
He notes the English belief in their national distinctiveness, who readily accepts the notion of being "God's own people". This desire for distinctiveness breeds distrust of everything non-English, especially Latins.
While admiring French intelligence, artistic sense, and capacity for thought, the Englishman rarely has moral confidence in them. He even alludes to the "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" trope, observing a reluctance among insular Englishmen to collaborate and a certain air of complicity when they do, suggesting Brexit was perhaps inevitable. He shares an anecdote about a witness finding it less of a recommendation that an accused person was "brought up in Paris".
While individualistic in moral responsibility, the Englishman is not a real individual in the Latin sense of independent critical spirit.
Though capable of forming their own opinions, they willingly accept the opinions of their leaders, which Siegfried sees as the secret to British parliamentary discipline and their civic sense and devotion to public affairs. This explains why the Englishman, efficient in a smooth-running organisation, is often lost when needing to fend for himself, unlike the self-reliant Latin. He concludes that you appeal to an Englishman's sense of duty, whereas with a Latin, you appeal to self-respect. He refutes the notion of Nordic superiority, stating that while English contribution to Western civilisation is outstanding and at least as great as the French, it is so different as to be initially astonishing.
Of all civilised peoples, Siegfried argues, the English are closest to nature in their responsiveness and methods. He contrasts the French tendency to define, analyse, and classify nature, risking distortion, and the American attempt to artificially speed up its rhythm, overlooking deep-seated laws, with the Englishman's "feeling for nature and an instinctive knowledge of her laws".
They work, act, and think in sympathy with nature, adapting with a certain humility, leading to a specifically English approach to problems.
He quotes Bacon "Nature noni parentto imperator" (One can master nature only by obeying her laws), noting that Englishmen, as Bacon's disciples, are never arrogant towards nature. He finds them more ingenious than perfidious, suggesting "perfidious Albion" is limited to specific circumstances of self-defence. Returning to the theme of age, he suggests the Englishman "stays 15 years old all his life," displaying a charming naivety and simplicity, contrasting with the French "cold glance".
This perpetual adolescence is most perfectly expressed in their love of animals, which he believes they prefer to their fellow humans, citing anecdotes from the Times about early butterflies and a dog wagging its tail in thanks. He even notes a passage in a Foreign Office white paper detailing the evacuation of embassy personnel including two dogs. He believes a people who talk this way about animals cannot be evil, and this decency and simplicity form the basis for solutions in English life, explaining the originality in their science and literature. He sees them as excellent observers of nature, wise and loving what they observe more than themselves, leading to a natural self-effacement.
He perceives a worship of not just animals, but also trees and stones, all that they consider not inanimate. Their literature, particularly on psychology, shows a similar stamp, observing men patiently like natural history, not like the French aiming for classic tragedy. This has created a wealth of evidence representing the archives of civilisation, with authors resisting the urge to improve upon nature.
Crucially, Siegfried states that in business and politics, England's contribution is inseparable from the development of civilisation. While not inventing credit, they practiced it best, seeing it as a reflection of the confidence an honest man deserves, with his word often being enough. This "mutual confidence which exists between people living together on the same island is certainly the social trait the stranger finds most striking".
Unlike other countries, distrust is the exception in England, with relationships based on the assurance of no deception. The concept of the gentleman is based on the same principle, emphasising good manners and a moral obligation on the upper class, knowing how to behave in all circumstances, dressing properly, and maintaining moral dignity.
While sometimes impatient with the gentleman's limitations, Siegfried acknowledges their moral reliability compared to ill-bred and irresponsible individuals. In politics, England has solved problems that puzzled others, demonstrating that "liberty and authority are not contradictory terms". He points to a Calvinist conception of society where government is not a transcendent authority but an expression of communal interest.
While "rais on deat" exists in England, it's primarily in foreign policy to preserve national interests. The English sincerely believe the moral law should extend to politics, but with a pragmatic approach, using the "doctrine of implicit delegation" to justify necessary transgressions for the nation's sake. He notes this is hypocritical but preferable to cynicism, crediting England, rejuvenated by free trade, with making the 19th-century world habitable, establishing stable relations and a sort of international commercial republic under Pax Britannica based on fair play.
However, he laments that the world didn't grasp the lesson of liberty, and the 20th century lags behind, with England herself returning to protectionism and state control. Yet, in 1952, he believed they remained faithful to individual liberty and hostile to persecution. He feels that withdrawing from the English ideal of liberty is withdrawing from civilisation. He observes that the English system is now largely abandoned and on the defensive, adopting contradictory measures.
He questions how England will adapt to new industrial conditions and the role of the state in an egalitarian age. He notes that England's 19th-century success was partly due to a quasi-monopoly on coal and industry and accumulated wealth, operating under what they believed was free competition but was actually international privilege, making their "muddling through" work. He argues this primitive approach is no longer appropriate in an age of open competition requiring superior technique and harder work.
He highlights that while English institutions were democratic, they remained aristocratic in practice until recently, with the electorate usually deferring to nobility, wealth, and tradition.
The Second World War brought a real revolution, with the people becoming egalitarian and expecting to share in postwar recovery. The country is now governed by people from different backgrounds, raising the question of whether they will be assimilated into the old elite, as happened with rising industrialists in the 19th century. He concludes by noting England's historical ability "to put new wine into old bottles".y.