use the former affections on account of "blood." Swedish-French by
ties of ancestry, such a sense of familiarity is natural when set
against my preternatural love of England.

Chauvinism flourishes exceedingly on the soil of national conceit. That
conceit is prodigious and universal. The Germans are past-masters in the
art of self-glorification, and their pan-German literature is certainly
not only bold but ingenious in this respect. Is any one great outside
Germany? Very well, let us trace his German origin. It may be remote, it
may be hidden by centuries of illusory nationality, but it must be
there. France has her apostles of superiority. Their style is more
flexible, their pretensions less clumsy, but they neglect no opportunity
of seducing us into a belief that France, and France only, is mistress
of the human mind. Russia has her fervid declaimers of holy excellence
and the superior quality of the Slav character. It does not matter
whether the country is great or small, whether it be Montenegro or
Cambodia, it always contains souls who feel constrained to give the
world a demonstration of their overflowing superiority. Pan-Germanism,
pan-Slavism, pan-Magyarism, pan-Anglosaxism, pan-Americanism grow out of
such conceit, systematized by professors and sanctified by bishops.

The conceit of nationality often fosters great deeds, and generally
finds expression that is more aggressive than intelligent. It takes hold
of the most unlikely subjects. It is a potent destroyer of balanced
judgment, and will pitilessly make the most solemn men ridiculous. The
outbursts of Emerson when under its influence are truly amazing. "If a
temperate wise man should look over our American society," he said in a
lecture, "I think the first danger which would excite his alarm would be
the European influences on this country.... See the secondariness and
aping of foreign and English life that runs through this country, in
building, in dress, in eating, in books."

This rejection savours of the contempt with which some young men turn
their backs on the fathers who fashioned them. "Let the passion for
America," he cried, "cast out the passion for Europe. Here let there be
what the earth waits for--exalted manhood." He gives a picture of the
finished man, the gentleman who will be born in America. He defines the
superiority of such a man to the Englishman:

Freer swing his arms; farther pierce his eyes, more forward and
forthright h