may be a caricature rather than a faithful picture of us.  Now it is to be noticed that those sharp observers, the French,—­who have a double turn for sharp observation, for they have both the quick perception of the Celt and the Latin’s gift for coming plump upon the fact,—­it is to be noticed, I say, that the French put a curious distinction in their popular, depreciating, we will hope inadequate, way of hitting off us and the Germans.  While they talk of the ‘betise allemande,’ they talk of the ‘gaucherie anglaise;’ while they talk of the ‘Allemand balourd,’ they talk of the ‘Anglais empetre;’ while they call the German ‘niais,’ they call the Englishman ‘melancolique.’  The difference between the epithets balourd and empetre exactly gives the difference in character I wish to seize; balourd means heavy and dull, empetre means hampered and embarrassed.  This points to a certain mixture and strife of elements in the Englishman; to the clashing of a Celtic quickness of perception with a Germanic instinct for going steadily along close to the ground.  The Celt, as we have seen, has not at all, in spite of his quick perception, the Latin talent for dealing with the fact, dexterously managing it and making himself master of it; Latin or Latinised people have felt contempt for him on this account, have treated him as a poor creature, just as the German, who arrives at fact in a different way from the Latins, but who arrives at it, has treated him.  The couplet of Chrestien of Troyes about the Welsh:-

. . .  Gallois sont tous, par nature, Plus fous que betes en pasture —

is well known, and expresses the genuine verdict of the Latin mind on the Celts.  But the perceptive instinct of the Celt feels and anticipates, though he has that in him which cuts him off from command of the world of fact; he sees what is wanting to him well enough; his mere eye is not less sharp, nay, it is sharper, than the Latin’s.  He is a quick genius, checkmated for want of strenuousness or else patience.  The German has not the Latin’s sharp precise glance on the world of fact, and dexterous behaviour in it; he fumbles with it much and long, but his honesty and patience give him the rule of it in the long run,—­a surer rule, some of us think, than the Latin gets; still, his behaviour in it is not quick and dexterous.  The Englishman, in so far as he is German,—­and he is mainly German,—­proceeds in the steady-going German fashion; if he were all German he would proceed thus for ever without self-consciousness or embarrassment; but, in so far as he is Celtic, he has snatches of quick instinct which often make him feel he is fumbling, show him visions of an easier, more dexterous behaviour, disconcert him and fill him with misgiving.  No people, therefore, are so shy, so self-conscious, so embarrassed as the English, because two natures are mixed in them, and natures which pull them such different ways.  The Germanic part, indeed, triumphs in us, we are a Germanic people; but not so wholly