It is always said that great reformers or masters of events can manage to bring about some specific and practical reforms, but that they never fulfill11 their visions or satisfy their souls. I believe there is a real sense in which this apparent platitude12 is quite untrue. By a strange inversion13 the political idealist often does not get what he asks for, but does get what he wants. The silent pressure of his ideal lasts much longer and reshapes the world much more than the actualities by which he attempted to suggest it. What perishes is the letter, which he thought so practical. What endures is the spirit, which he felt to be unattainable and even unutterable. It is exactly his schemes that are not fulfilled; it is exactly his vision that is fulfilled. Thus the ten or twelve paper constitutions of the French Revolution, which seemed so business-like to the framers of them, seem to us to have flown away on the wind as the wildest fancies. What has not flown away, what is a fixed14 fact in Europe, is the ideal and vision. The Republic, the idea of a land full of mere15 citizens all with some minimum of manners and minimum of wealth, the vision of the eighteenth century, the reality of the twentieth. So I think it will generally be with the creator of social things, desirable or undesirable16. All his schemes will fail, all his tools break in his hands. His compromises will collapse17, his concessions18 will be useless. He must brace19 himself to bear his fate; he shall have nothing but his heart’s desire.
Now if one may compare very small things with very great, one may say that the English aristocratic schools can claim something of the same sort of success and solid splendor20 as the French democratic politics. At least they can claim the same sort of superiority over the distracted and fumbling21 attempts of modern England to establish democratic education. Such success as has attended the public schoolboy throughout the Empire, a success exaggerated indeed by himself, but still positive and a fact of a certain indisputable shape and size, has been due to the central and supreme22 circumstance that the managers of our public schools did know what sort of boy they liked. They wanted something and they got something; instead of going to work in the broad-minded manner and wanting everything and getting nothing.
The only thing in question is the quality of the thing they got. There is something highly maddening in the circumstance that when modern people attack an institution that really does demand reform, they always attack it for the wrong reasons. Thus many opponents of our public schools, imagining themselves to be very democratic, have exhausted23 themselves in an unmeaning attack upon the study of Greek. I can understand how Greek may be regarded as useless, especially by those thirsting to throw themselves into the cut throat commerce which is the negation25 of citizenship26; but I do not understand how it can be considered undemocratic. I quite understand why Mr. Carnegie has a hatred27 of Greek. It is obscurely founded on the firm and sound impression that in any self-governing Greek city he would have been killed. But I cannot comprehend why any chance democrat3, say Mr. Quelch, or Mr. Will Crooks28, I or Mr. John M. Robertson, should be opposed to people learning the Greek alphabet, which was the alphabet of liberty. Why should Radicals30 dislike Greek? In that language is written all the earliest and, Heaven knows, the most heroic history of the Radical29 party. Why should Greek disgust a democrat, when the very word democrat is Greek?
A similar mistake, though a less serious one, is merely attacking the athletics31 of public schools as something promoting animalism and brutality32. Now brutality, in the only immoral33 sense, is not a vice34 of the English public schools. There is much moral bullying36, owing to the general lack of moral courage in the public-school atmosphere. These schools do, upon the whole, encourage physical courage; but they do not merely discourage moral courage, they forbid it. The ultimate result of the thing is seen in the egregious37 English officer who cannot even endure to wear a bright uniform except when it is blurred38 and hidden in the smoke of battle. This, like all the affectations of our present plutocracy39, is an entirely40 modern thing. It was unknown to the old aristocrats41. The Black Prince would certainly have asked that any knight42 who had the courage to lift his crest43 among his enemies, should also have the courage to lift it among his friends. As regards moral courage, then it is not so much that the public schools support it feebly, as that they suppress it firmly. But physical courage they do, on the whole, support; and physical courage is a magnificent fundamental. The one great, wise Englishman of the eighteenth century said truly that if a man lost that virtue44 he could never be sure of keeping any other. Now it is one of the mean and morbid45 modern lies that physical courage is connected with cruelty. The Tolstoian and Kiplingite are nowhere more at one than in maintaining this. They have, I believe, some small sectarian quarrel with each other, the one saying that courage must be abandoned because it is connected with cruelty, and the other maintaining that cruelty is charming because it is a part of courage. But it is all, thank God, a lie. An energy and boldness of body may make a man stupid or reckless or dull or drunk or hungry, but it does not make him spiteful. And we may admit heartily46 (without joining in that perpetual praise which public-school men are always pouring upon themselves) that this does operate to the removal of mere evil cruelty in the public schools. English public school life is extremely like English public life, for which it is the preparatory school. It is like it specially24 in this, that things are either very open, common and conventional, or else are very secret indeed. Now there is cruelty in public schools, just as there is kleptomania47 and secret drinking and vices48 without a name. But these things do not flourish in the full daylight and common consciousness of the school, and no more does cruelty. A tiny trio of sullen-looking boys gather in corners and seem to have some ugly business always; it may be indecent literature, it may be the beginning of drink, it may occasionally be cruelty to little boys. But on this stage the bully35 is not a braggart49. The proverb says that bullies50 are always cowardly, but these bullies are more than cowardly; they are shy.
As a third instance of the wrong form of revolt against the public schools, I may mention the habit of using the word aristocracy with a double implication. To put the plain truth as briefly51 as possible, if aristocracy means rule by a rich ring, England has aristocracy and the English public schools support it. If it means rule by ancient families or flawless blood, England has not got aristocracy, and the public schools systematically52 destroy it. In these circles real aristocracy, like real democracy, has become bad form. A modern fashionable host dare not praise his ancestry53; it would so often be an insult to half the other oligarchs at table, who have no ancestry. We have said he has not the moral courage to wear his uniform; still less has he the moral courage to wear his coat-of-arms. The whole thing now is only a vague hotch-potch of nice and nasty gentlemen. The nice gentleman never refers to anyone else’s father, the nasty gentleman never refers to his own. That is the only difference, the rest is the public-school manner. But Eton and Harrow have to be aristocratic because they consist so largely of parvenues. The public school is not a sort of refuge for aristocrats, like an asylum54, a place where they go in and never come out. It is a factory for aristocrats; they come out without ever having perceptibly gone in. The poor little private schools, in their old-world, sentimental, feudal55 style, used to stick up a notice, “For the Sons of Gentlemen only.” If the public schools stuck up a notice it ought to be inscribed56, “For the Fathers of Gentlemen only.” In two generations they can do the trick.
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1 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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2 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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3 democrat | |
n.民主主义者,民主人士;民主党党员 | |
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4 inefficient | |
adj.效率低的,无效的 | |
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5 efficiently | |
adv.高效率地,有能力地 | |
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6 embodies | |
v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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7 embody | |
vt.具体表达,使具体化;包含,收录 | |
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8 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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9 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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10 hauteur | |
n.傲慢 | |
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11 fulfill | |
vt.履行,实现,完成;满足,使满意 | |
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12 platitude | |
n.老生常谈,陈词滥调 | |
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13 inversion | |
n.反向,倒转,倒置 | |
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14 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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15 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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16 undesirable | |
adj.不受欢迎的,不良的,不合意的,讨厌的;n.不受欢迎的人,不良分子 | |
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17 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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18 concessions | |
n.(尤指由政府或雇主给予的)特许权( concession的名词复数 );承认;减价;(在某地的)特许经营权 | |
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19 brace | |
n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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20 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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21 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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22 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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23 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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24 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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25 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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26 citizenship | |
n.市民权,公民权,国民的义务(身份) | |
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27 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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28 crooks | |
n.骗子( crook的名词复数 );罪犯;弯曲部分;(牧羊人或主教用的)弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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29 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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30 radicals | |
n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 );根基;基本原理;[数学]根数 | |
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31 athletics | |
n.运动,体育,田径运动 | |
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32 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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33 immoral | |
adj.不道德的,淫荡的,荒淫的,有伤风化的 | |
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34 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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35 bully | |
n.恃强欺弱者,小流氓;vt.威胁,欺侮 | |
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36 bullying | |
v.恐吓,威逼( bully的现在分词 );豪;跋扈 | |
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37 egregious | |
adj.非常的,过分的 | |
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38 blurred | |
v.(使)变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 );(使)难以区分;模模糊糊;迷离 | |
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39 plutocracy | |
n.富豪统治 | |
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40 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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41 aristocrats | |
n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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42 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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43 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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44 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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45 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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46 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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47 kleptomania | |
n.盗窃癖 | |
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48 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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49 braggart | |
n.吹牛者;adj.吹牛的,自夸的 | |
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50 bullies | |
n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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51 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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52 systematically | |
adv.有系统地 | |
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53 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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54 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
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55 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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56 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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