MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOLSON
IN the Figaro for April 14th and April 23rd appeared two successive articles from the pen of Monsieur Andre Siegfried upon the subject: "What sort of French people do English people like ? " Monsieur Siegfried is a scholar and a man of good will ; he is a distinguished member of the French Academy, a balanced exponent of political and economic theory, and a man who has devoted many years of his life to the study of British and American institutions, habits and ways of thought. His views upon so interesting and perplexing a problem should therefore command attention and respect. He tells us that, during a recent visit to this country, he conducted a private investigation, a personal Gallup poll. He began by taking as his tests or exhibits two eminent Frenchmen who, in his opinion, ought to have won our affection and regard. There was Monsieur Poincare, for instance, whose political probity, whose scrupulous respect for the laws and regula- tions of his own country, should have made some appeal at least to our civic sense. There was Monsieur Andre Tardieu, a man of the world, always elegantly attired, trained from his early manhood in the amiable intercourse of diplomatic relations : —why was it that Monsieur Tardieu aroused in Englishmen (and incidentally in Americans also) an antipathy which could neither be concealed nor denied ? When Monsieur Siegfried addressed these questions to an Englishman who had known both of his exhibits he was answered with two words. "Intellectual arrogance" the Englishman replied. Monsieur Siegfried was interested by this answer and pondered upon it. He came to the conclusion that it was not arrogance in itself that the English hated, but only intellectual arrogance. "The English," he writes, "are always suspicious of intelligence ; but when intelligence becomes aggressive, then their suspicious are roused to actual animosity. It is preferable when conversing with Englishmen to conceal such intelligence as one may possess."
do not agree with this generalisation. On the contrary, the educated Englishman derives much pleasure from the brilliance of the French mind. It was not merely men of the high intellectual level of Arthur Balfour who could listen entranced to the conversa- tion of Briand or Leon Blum: I have seen quite simple Englishmen deriving mental delight from the verbal paradoxes and expanding images of Forain or Jean Cocteau. Although few Englishmen are brilliant conversationalists, most Englishmen are excellent listeners ; and although many Frenchmen can talk brilliantly, I have never met a Frenchman who enjoyed listening at all. Thus the Englishman can be blissfully happy listening to French conversation, provided only that he is not expected to compete, but can sit back quietly and observe the skill manifested, much as he would observe with pleasure a game of pelota. It is when he is expected, or obliged by circumstances, to play the game himself that a sense of humilia- tion comes to cloud his enjoyment. It is at this stage that the epithet " aggressive " enters into the argument. Monsieur Poincare may have been a man of the highest patriotism and integrity ; Monsieur Tardieu may have been a man of fundamental good nature ; but what they both lacked were intellectual good manners. Poincare, irritably tapping his pince-nez against his thumbnail, was unable to hide his dislike of thoughts less meticulous than his own ; Tardieu, with the intellectual disdain of the Ecole Normale still acid upon his lips, would actually grimace with displeasure when confronted with the galoshes of the Anglo-Saxon mind.
Monsieur Siegfried, I am glad to say, recognises and agrees with the distinction I have made. He admits that the English do not really mind the French being intelligent, or even brilliant, so long as they do not claim a world-monopoly of these qualities and so long as they do not seek to impose their dialectics upon others. He admits that we like French people to be very French and that we are suspicious always of those of them who pretend to be
English. Monsieur Paul Carnbon and Monsieur de Fleuriau, for instance, were two of the most popular ambassadors that have ever been accredited to St. James's ; yet the former refused for twenty years to speak a word of English and the latter persisted in wearing a lavalliere, or floppy, tie. Monsieur Herriot, again, has always been liked in this country, and yet in many ways Monsieur Herriot is the most French Frenchman that there has even been. Yet Monsieur Flandin, with his golf clubs and his plus fours, never succeeded to a similar extent in winning the heart, or even the confidence, of the British public. Conversely, the French also prefer those Englishmen who correspond to their conceptions of what John Bull ought to be ; they agree with Bismarck in feeling that one should always be suspicious of an Englishman who speaks French well ; what they enjoy is the roast-beef French as spoken by Mr. Churchill and the late Lord Derby ; they find it so sincere. Thus in his second article Monsieur Siegfried proceeds to examine the reverse of the medal and to consider what type of Englishman the French prefer. He evades the painful fact that the professional British francophils behaved during the dark days with far greater loyalty and trustfulness than did many of the professional French anglophils. He treats the subject upon wider and more traditional lines.
He takes as his text the apophthegm of La Rochefoucauld:— "We always like those who admire us." He then divides the English into two categories, the " merrie England" type and the puritan type. Those who belong to the former category are able to appreciate the French art of living and to accord admiration. Those who belong to the latter type fail to appreciate the douceur de vivre and accord only disapproval. Thus the French liked Edward VII and Campbell-Bannerman, even as today they like Winston Churchill ; but they could never understand either Lloyd George or Ramsay MacDonald and they detested Philip Snowden. I am often irritated by the French tendency to exaggerate the depth and extent of our puritan tradition, even as I am often irritated by the British tendency to allow the superficial gaiety of the French tempera- ment to obscure the rather sombre seriousness which lies under- neath. I wish indeed that these fixed ideas regarding puritanism on the one side and frivolity on the other could be abolished from our ways of thinking. It would assist a better understanding between the two nations if these nineteenth-century conceptions were abandoned and if some more original and contemporary method of approach could be devised. It would be a good thing, for instance, if we were to concentrate upon the male qualities of the French people—their courage, their industry, their astonishing resilience ; and if they were to notice and consider the more feminine qualities which we possess—our gentleness, our humour and natural protec- tiveness. In this manner a more authentic level of appreciation, even of admiration, could be established, and mutual liking would follow by itself. It is true of course that those who enjoy good living enjoy France ; it may also be true that those who take an austere view of life derive no special pleasure from better cakes and ale. It is true that our intellectuals admire the diversity of the French genius, whereas our non-intellectuals (and they are many) remain unconscious of its charm. Fundamentally however the difference is one of temperament.
• * * * * The two temperaments (by which I mean the topmost layers of character) are certainly ill attuned. The two surfaces often grate so harshly against each other that the underlying conformity is not observed. Men such as Andre Siegfried are able to pierce below the surfaces and to esteem the qualities which lie below. But we shall not get much further by talking about merrie England and puritanism. The fundamentals of our unison must be a common need for self-pretervation and a common faith in the rights of man.
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