Thunderer," as one of the
institutions of this country, recognised abroad as essentially
expressive of national character. English humour, like American and
French, has its own flavour; it lacks the high and extravagant fantasy
that is so exhilarating in America; it avoids the subtlety of France; it
is essentially a laughing humour. The Englishman, who cannot stand chaff
himself, always laughs at others. It is curious that while an
Englishman's conventions rest upon dislike of what is odd and
fantastic--precisely the two most well-known sources of humour--he yet
has a sense of humour. The first aim of every Englishman is to acquire a
manner of some dignity. It is the breaking down of that dignity in other
people that to his eyes places them in a light that is funny.

English humour seems to find its object in physical rather than mental
aspects. The very notable feature of du Maurier's work was that it
refined upon the characteristics of English humour; it dealt always with
people placed by an absurd speech, or an unlucky gesture, in a foolish
position--a position the shy distress of which was a physical
experience. Du Maurier's humour was also English in its kindness; the
points that are scored against the unfortunate object of it are the
points that may be scored against the laugher himself to-morrow. His
pictures were a running commentary upon the refinements of our manners
and upon the quick changes of moral costume that fresh situations in the
social comedy demand.

One thing peculiarly fitted the artist to be the satirist of English
Society--his love of the comedy of people by nature honest finding
themselves only able to get through the day with decent politeness by
the aid of "the lie to follow." English people, Puritan by ancestry and
by inclination, are nevertheless driven into frequent subterfuge by
their good nature, and having pared their language and gesture of that
extravagance in expression which they despise in the foreigner, they are
thrown back upon a naturalness that betrays them in delicate
situations. The consequence is that it is in Anglo-Saxon Society at its
best that the art of delicate fence in conversation has been brought to
its highest pitch. There the _clairvoyance_ is so great that words can
be used economically in relation to the realities of life, and are
consequently often adopted merely as a screen before the feelings.

We have to realise how much more than any one preceding him in g