asier to understand
the Americans if we connect them with the French who were their allies
than with the English who were their enemies. There are a great many
Franco-American resemblances which the practical Anglo-Saxons are of
course too hard-headed (or boneheaded) to see. American history is
haunted with the shadow of the Plebiscitary President; they have a
tradition of classical architecture for public buildings. Their cities
are planned upon the squares of Paris and not upon the labyrinth of
London. They call their cities Corinth and Syracuse, as the French
called their citizens Epaminondas and Timoleon. Their soldiers wore the
French kepi; and they make coffee admirably, and do not make tea at all.
But of all the French elements in America the most French is this real
practicality. They know that at certain times the most businesslike of
all qualities is 'l'audace, et encore de l'audace, et toujours de
l'audace.' The publisher may induce the poet to do a pot-boiler; but the
publisher would cheerfully allow the poet to set the Mississippi on
fire, if it would boil his particular pot. It is not so much that
Englishmen are stupid as that they are afraid of being clever; and it is
not so much that Americans are clever as that they do not try to be any
stupider than they are. The fire of French logic has burnt that out of
America as it has burnt it out of Europe, and of almost every place
except England. This is one of the few points on which English
insularity really is a disadvantage. It is the fatal notion that the
only sort of commonsense is to be found in compromise, and that the only
sort of compromise is to be found in confusion. This must be clearly
distinguished from the commonplace about the utilitarian world not
rising to the invisible values of genius. Under this philosophy the
utilitarian does not see the utility of genius, even when it is quite
visible. He does not see it, not because he is a utilitarian, but
because he is an idealist whose ideal is dullness. For some time the
English aspired to be stupid, prayed and hoped with soaring spiritual
ambition to be stupid. But with all their worship of success, they did
not succeed in being stupid. The natural talents of a great and
traditional nation were always breaking out in spite of them. In spite
of the merchants of London, Turner did set the Thames on fire. In spite
of our repeatedly explained preference for realism to romance, Europe
persisted in resoun