, he would take it as an evidence of
friendly feeling.

The truth is that it is really schoolboy humour belatedly prolonged.
Vituperation is the schoolboy's idea of friendly banter. The schoolboy
does not so much consider the feelings of his victim as his companions'
need for amusement. But I am sure that the tendency nowadays is,
somehow or other, to prolong the hobbledehoy days. There is so much
more organisation of everything at schools that young men remain boys
longer than they used to do. Partly, too, in the case of this young
man, it arises from his never having had a change of atmosphere. He
remained a jolly schoolboy till the end of his University days, and
then he went back to the society of schoolboys. He is simply
undeveloped; and the mistake he makes is to consider himself a man of
the world.

But partly, too, it arises from national characteristics, the
preference for bluntness and frankness and outspokenness; the tendency
to believe that a display of courtesy and emotion and consideration is
essentially insincere. One does not at all want to get rid of frankness
and outspokenness. Combined with a certain degree of deference and
sympathy, they are the most delightful graces in the world. But though
the attitude which I have been describing prides itself upon being
above all things unaffected, it is in reality a highly affected mood,
because it is all based on a kind of false shame. Such a man as my
young friend does not really say what he thinks, and very rarely thinks
what he says. He is, as I have said, a high-minded, intelligent, and
sensible man; but he thinks it priggish to let his real opinions be
known, and thus is priggish without perceiving it. The essence of
priggishness is the disapproving attitude, and it is priggish to wish
to appear superior; but my young friend, in the back of his mind, does
think himself the superior of courteous, sympathetic, and emotional
persons.

And thus I did not particularly enjoy his visit, because I could not
feel at ease with my visitor. I could not say frankly what I thought,
but had to select topics which I thought he would consider unaffected.

I think, in fact, that we pay too high a price for our British
reticence: perhaps we keep a few foolish and gushing people in order,
stifle effusiveness, and dry up unctuousness; but we do so at the price
of silencing a much larger number of simple and direct people, and lose
much variety of characteristics and inte