THE GREAT PREPONDERANCE FOR SEVERAL GENERATIONS OF TOWN OVER COUNTRY LIFE.—­Taken in conjunction with centuries of political stability this is the main cause of a certain deeply ingrained humaneness of which, speaking generally, the Englishman appears to be rather ashamed than otherwise.

THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS.—­This potent element in the formation of the modern Englishman, not only of the upper but of all classes, is something that one rather despairs of making understood—­in countries that have no similar institution.  But, imagine one hundred thousand youths of the wealthiest, healthiest, and most influential classes passed during each generation at the most impressionable age, into a sort of ethical mold, emerging therefrom stamped to the core with the impress of a uniform morality, uniform manners, uniform way of looking at life; remembering always that these youths fill seven-eighths of the important positions in the professional administration of their country and the conduct of its commercial enterprise; remembering, too, that through perpetual contact with every other class their standard of morality and way of looking at life filters down into the very toes of the land.  This great character-forming machine is remarkable for an unself-consciousness which gives it enormous strength and elasticity.  Not inspired by the State, it inspires the State.  The characteristics of the philosophy it enjoins are mainly negative and, for that, the stronger.  “Never show your feelings—­to do so is not manly and bores your fellows.  Don’t cry out when you’re hurt, making yourself a nuisance to other people.  Tell no tales about your companions, and no lies about yourself.  Avoid all ‘swank,’ ‘side,’ ‘swagger,’ braggadocio of speech or manner, on pain of being laughed at.” (This maxim is carried to such a pitch that the Englishman, except in his press, habitually understates everything.) “Think little of money, and speak less of it.  Play games hard, and keep the rules of them even when your blood is hot and you are tempted to disregard them.  In three words, ‘play the game,’” a little phrase which may be taken as the characteristic understatement of the modern Englishman’s creed of honor in all classes.  This great, unconscious machine has considerable defects.  It tends to the formation of “caste”; it is a poor teacher of sheer learning, and, aesthetically, with its universal suppression of all interesting and queer individual traits of personality, it is almost horrid.  But it imparts a remarkable incorruptibility to English life; it conserves vitality by suppressing all extremes, and it implants everywhere a kind of unassuming stoicism and respect for the rules of the great game—­Life.  Through its unconscious example and through its cult of games it has vastly influenced even the classes not directly under its control.

Three more main facts must be borne in mind: 

THE ESSENTIAL DEMOCRACY OF THE GOVERNMENT.