课文 notes on the english character 英国人的性格特点 译文
Notes on the English Character ( a simplified version for students)
—— E.M. Forster
Part I
(paragraph1)
The character of the English is essentially middle class. Forster’s opinion is supported by a good historical reason, that is, the middle classes have been the dominant force in Britain since the end of the 18th century. (three aspects: wealth/political power; the rise and organization of the British Empire; the literature of the 19th century)
Part III
(paragraph4-8)
The undeveloped heart of the middle-class Englishmen (his explanation of what he means by an undeveloped heart/ an anecdote that illustrates his point/ Foster criticizes the middle-class Englishmen for being unemotional, or rather the slowness of the English character, which is related to the undeveloped heart. using himself as an example irony
Lesson_10 Notes on the English Character -- by E.M. Forster
III. Theme and Style
◆ Forster's views as a secular humanist are at the heart of his work, which often depicts the pursuit of personal connections in spite of the restrictions of contemporary society. His humanist attitude is expressed in the nonfictional essay What I Believe. ◆ Forster is noted for his use of symbolism as a technique in his novels, and he has been criticized for his attachment to mysticism. One example of his symbolism is the Wych Elm tree in Howards End; the characters of Mrs. Wilcox in that novel and Mrs. Moore in A Passage to India have a mystical link with the past and a striking ability to connect with people from beyond their own circles.
II. Novels
◆ 1. Where Angels Fear to Tread 1905《天使不敢涉足的地 方》 ; ◆ 2. The Longest Journey 1907 《最长的旅行》; ◆ 3. A Room with a View 1908 《看得见风景的房间》 ; ◆ 4. Howards End 1910 《霍华兹庄园》 ; ◆ 5. A Passage to India 1924 《印度之旅》; ◆ 6. Maurice 《莫瑞斯 》 (supposedly written in 1913-1914, published posthumously in 1971, attributed to Forster); ◆ 7. Arctic Summer 1980 (posthumous, unfinished) /forster/index.html (the unofficial E. M. Forster site)
Lesson 10 Notes on the English Character (课堂PPT)
• 18世纪初，苏格兰一位名叫约翰·阿巴思 诺特的医生兼作家出版了一本政治讽刺小
说，借以讽刺当时辉格党的战争政策，书 名叫《约翰·布尔的历史》。
• 书中的主人公约翰·布尔是一位保守的乡 村绅士，他身材矮胖、性情急躁、举止笨
拙滑稽，身后总跟着一条斗牛犬。由于这 个形象很能代表英国乡绅，因此19世纪以 来，英美等国的漫画家纷纷用约翰·布尔
14
PARA1 Saint George
15
Saint George
• St. George is a hero, the patron of arms, symbolizing chivalry(骑士精神), his image often appears on banners, and his name is often mentioned in the speeches of politicians. He is used as a symbolic figure for political purposes.
Lesson 10
1
Author &
Background
2
Author
Edward Morgan Forster (January 1,1879–June 7, 1970)
• English novelist, short story writer, and essayist. He is known best for his ironic and well-plotted novels examining class difference and hypocrisy in early 20th-century British society.
7
英语阅读：TheEnglishCharacter英国人的性格
英语阅读：The English Character英国人的性格摘要: 英国人待人彬彬有礼，讲话十分客气,“谢谢”、“请”字不离口。
对英国人讲话也要客气，不论他们是服务员还是司机，都要以礼相待The English CharacterTo other Europeans, the best known quality of the British,and in particular of the English, is “reserved”.A reserved person is one who does not talk very much to strangers,does not show much emotion, and seldom gets excited.It is difficult to get to know a reserved person:he never tells you anything about himself,and you may work with him for years without ever knowing where he lives,how many children he has, and what his interests are.English people tend to be like that.Closely related to English reserve is English modesty.Within their hearts, the English are perhaps no less conceited than anybody else,but in their relations with others they value at least a show of modesty.Self-praise is felt to be impolite.If a person is, let us say,very good at tennis and someone asks him if he is a good player,he will seldom reply “Yes,”because people will think him conceited.He will probably give an answer like,“I’m not bad,” or “I think I’m very good,” or “Well, I’m very keen on tennis.”Even if he had managed to reach the finals in last year’s local championships,he would say it in such a way as to suggest that it was only due to a piece of good luck.Since reserve and modesty are part of his own nature,the typical English tends to expect them in others.He secretly looks down on more excitable nations,and likes to think of himself as more reliable than they are.He doesn’t trust big promises and open shows of feelings, especially if they are expressed in flowery language.He doesn’t trust self-praise of any kind.This applies not only to what other people may tell him about themselves orally,but to the letters they may write to him.To those who are fond of flowery expressions,the Englishman may appear uncomfortably cold.。
新概念英语64-66 课文,单词,翻译
Lesson 64 The Channel Tunnel 海峡隧道In 1858, a French engineer, AiméThoméde Gamond, arrived in England with a plan for a twenty－one－mile tunnel under the English Channel. He said that it would be possible to build a platform in the center of the Channel. This platform would serve as a port and a 5 railway station. The tunnel would be well－ventilated if tall chimneys were built above sea level. In 1860, a better plan was put forward by an Englishman, William Low. He suggested that a double railway tunnel should be built. This would solve the problem of ventilation,for if a train entered this tunnel, it would draw in fresh air behind it. Forty－two years later a tunnel was actually 10 begun. If, at the time, the British had not feared invasion, it would have been completed. The world had to wait almost another 100 years for the Channel Tunnel. It was officially opened on March 7,1994, finally connecting Britain to the European continent.New words and expressions 生词和短语tunnel n.隧道fear v.害怕port n.港口invasion n.入侵，侵略ventilate v.通风officially adv. 正式地chimney n.烟囱connect v. 连接sealevel海平面European adj.欧洲的double adj. 双的continent n. 大陆ventilation n. 通风Notes on the text 课文注释1 a plan for a twenty－one-mile tunnel under the English Channel, 建造一条长21英里、穿越英吉利海峡的隧道计划，for a… Channel是介词短语，作定语，修饰名词plan。
unit 10 notes on english character
Unit 10 Notes on the English CharacterV. Explain the following in your own words, bringing out any implied meanings.1.As Saint George is a hero, the patron of arms, symbolizing chivalry, his imageoften appears on banners, and his name is often mentioned in the speeches of politicians(politicians often pay lip service to him). Saint George is used as a symbolic figure for political purposes. But John Bull is the tradesman and he delivers the good we need in our daily life while making money at the same time.2.The English public schools have four unique features. First, all boys live inboarding houses. Second, sports and games are organized and compulsory as part of the school curricula. Third, older students have special duties to help control younger student while the latter must do jobs for the former. Lastly, great emphasis is placed on good form and team spirit. These features enable the public school students to have disproportionately great influence.3.Pay attention to my use of the word “bankrupt”, a word related to business. Thisreveals my identity as a member of the commercial nation, who would be careful and sensible enough to avoid any risks of failing to pay their debts.4.But my friend expressed his views as a member of the Oriental countries. They arenourished by a tradition of great generosity and richness, which is different from the English tradition of middle-class prudence.5.In this aspect, true love is different from material things such as clay or even goldwhich can be divided and taken away. Yet, if we share true love, it will never diminish.6.In the above anecdote, I have become an example of the Englishmen for themoment. That put me in a high position which makes m dizzy and is unfamiliar to me. I will now come down form that height and return to my role as your commentator on the characteristics of the Englishman.7.The Englishman’s nervous system acts promptly and feels slowly. The combinationof the two qualities is useful, and anyone who has this combination is mostly likely to be brave.8.As literature is based on national character, there must be in the English naturehidden resources of passion that have produced the great romantic literature we see.9.That kind of criticism is just like Bernard Shaw’s attacks. It is nothing new and I’mused to these tricks and jokes; they won’t do any harm to me.10.T he Englishmen think they have a tolerant and humorous attitude toward criticism.In fact it is not so, because their attitude is limited by uncomfortable laughter, which indicates that beneath the surface of their tolerant humorous attitude they are uneasy. When they try to be humorous and brush aside criticism, they would titter and guffaw. Such uncomfortable laughter is a sign of uneasiness.11.I have already made all my opinions known to you. What is said is said, and beingdiplomatic cannot uneasy what has been said.。
现代大学英语精读6 notes on english character
First note. I had better let the cat out of the bag at once and record my opinion that the character of the English is essentially middle class. There is a sound historical reason for this， for，since the end of the eighteenth century， the middle classes have been the dominant force in our community. They gained wealth by the Industrial Revolution， political power by the Reform Bill of 1832； they are connected with the rise and organization of the British Empire； they are responsible for the literature of the nineteenth century. Solidity， caution， integrity， efficiency. Lack of imagination， hypocrisy. These qualities characterize the middle classes in every country， but in England they are national characteristics also， because only in England have the middle classes been in power for one hundred and fifty years. Napoleon， in his rude way， called us "a nation of shopkeepers." We prefer to call ourselves "a great commercial nation" -- it sounds more dignified -- but the two phrases amount to the same. Of course there are other classes： there is an aristocracy， there are the poor. But it is on the middle classes that the eye of the critic rests -- just as it rests on the poor in Russia and on the aristocracy in Japan. Russia is symbolized by the peasant or by the factory worker； Japan by the samurai； the national figure of England is Mr. Bull with his top hat， his comfortable clothes， his substantial stomach， and his substantial balance at the bank. Saint George may caper on banners and in the speeches of politicians， but it is John Bull who delivers the goods. And even Saint George-- if Gibbon is correct-- wore a top hat once； he was an army contractor and supplied indifferent bacon. It all amounts to the same in the end.Second Note. Just as the heart of England is the middle classes， so the heart of the middle classes is the public school system. This extraordinary institution is local. It does not even exist all over the British Isles. It is unknown in Ireland， almost unknown in Scotland （countries excluded from my survey）， and though it may inspire other great institutions--Aligarh， for example， and some of the schools in the United States--it remains unique， because it was created by the Anglo-Saxon middle classes， and can flourish only where they flourish. How perfectly it expresses their character -- far better for instance， than does the university， into which social and spiritual complexities have already entered. With its boarding-houses， its compulsory games， its system of prefects and fagging， its insistence on good form and on esprit de corps， it produces a type whose weight is out of all proportion to its numbers. On leaving his school， the boy either sets to work at once -- goes into the army or into business， or emigrates -- or else proceeds to the university， and after three or four years there enters some other profession -- becomes a barrister， doctor， civil servant， schoolmaster， or journalist. （If through some mishap he does not become a manual worker or an artist.） In all these careers his education， or the absence of it，influences him. Its memories influence him also. Many men look back on their school days as the happiest of their lives. They remember with regret that golden time when life， though hard， was not yet complex， when they all worked together and played together and thought together， so far as they thought at all； when they were taught that school is the world in miniature and believed that no one can love his country who does not love his school. And they prolong that time as bestthey can by joining their Old Boys' society： indeed， some of them remain Old Boys and nothing else for the rest of their lives. They attribute all good to the school. They worship it. They quote the remark that "The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton." It is nothing to them that the remark is inapplicable historically and was never made by the Duke of Wellington， and that the Duke of Wellington was an Irishman. They go on quoting it because it expresses their sentiments； they feel that if the Duke of Wellington didn't make it he ought to have， and if he wasn't an Englishman he ought to have been. And they go forth into a world that is not entirely composed of public-school men or even of Anglo-Saxons， but of men who are as various as the sands of the sea； into a world of whose richness and subtlety they have no conception. They go forth into it with well-developed bodies， fairly developed minds， and undeveloped hearts. And it is this undeveloped heart that is largely responsible for the difficulties of Englishmen abroad. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one. The difference is important， and on it my next note will be based.For it is not that the Englishman can't feel -- it is that he is afraid to feel. He has been taught at his public school that feeling is bad form. He must not express great joy or sorrow， or even open his mouth too wide when he talks--his pipe might fall out if he did. He must bottle up his emotions，or let them out only on a very special occasion.Once upon a time （this is an anecdote） I went for a week's holiday on the Continent with an Indian friend. We both enjoyed ourselves and were sorry when the week was over， but on parting our behaviour was absolutely different. He was plunged in despair.He felt that because the holiday was over all happiness was over until the world ended. He could not express his sorrow too much. But in me the Englishman came out strong. I reflected that we should meet again in a month or two， and could write in the interval if we had anything to say； and under these circumstances I could not see what there was to make a fuss about. It wasn't as if we were parting forever or dying. "Buck up，" I said， "do buck up." He refused to buck up， and I left him plunged in gloom.The conclusion of the anecdote is even more instructive. For when we met the next month our conversation threw a good deal of light on the English character. I began by scolding my friend. I told him that he had been wrong to feel and display so much emotion upon so slight an occasion； that it was inappropriate. The word "inappropriate" roused him to fury. "What？" he cried. "Do you measure out your emotions as if they were potatoes？" I did not like the simile of the potatoes， but after a moment's reflection I said： "Yes， I do； and what's more， I think I ought to. A small occasion demands a little emotion just as a large occasion demands a great one. I would like my emotions to be appropriate. This may be measuring them like potatoes， but it is better than slopping them about like water from a pail， which is what you did." He did not like the simile of the pail. "If those are your opinions， they part us forever，" he cried， and left the room. Returning immediately， he added： "No--but your whole attitude toward emotion is wrong.Emotion has nothing to do with appropriateness. It matters only that it shall be sincere. I happened to feel deeply. I showed it. It doesn't matter whether I ought to have felt deeply or not."This remark impressed me very much. Yet I could not agree with it， and said that I valued emotion as much as he did， but used it differently； if I poured it out on small occasions I was afraid of having none left for the great ones， and of being bankrupt at the crises of life. Note the word "bankrupt." I spoke as a member of a prudent middle-class nation， always anxious to meet my liabilities， but my friend spoke as an Oriental， and the Oriental has behind him a tradition， not of middle-class prudence but of kingly munificence and splendour. He feels his resources are endless，just as John Bull feels his are finite. As regards material resources， the Oriental is clearly unwise. Money isn't endless. If we spend or give away all the money we have， we haven't any more， and must take the consequences， which are frequently unpleasant. But， as regards the resources of the spirit， he may be right. The emotions may be endless. The more we express them， the more we may have to express. True love in this differs from gold and clay， That to divide is not to take away.Says Shelley. Shelley， at all events， believes that the wealth of the spirit is endless； that we may express it copiously， passionately， and always； that we can never feel sorrow or joy too acutely.In the above anecdote， I have figured as a typical Englishman. I will now descend from that dizzy and somewhat unfamiliar height， and return to my business of notetaking. A note on the slowness of the English character. The Englishman appears to be cold and unemotional because he is really slow. When an event happens， he may understand it quickly enough with his mind， but he takes quite a while to feel it. Once upon a time a coach， containing some Englishmen and some Frenchmen， was driving over the Alps. The horses ran away， and as they were dashing across a bridge the coach caught on the stonework， tottered， and nearly fell into the ravine below. The Frenchmen were frantic with terror： they screamed and gesticulated and flung themselves about，as Frenchmen would. The Englishmen sat quite calm. An hour later， the coach drew up at an inn to change horses， and by that time the situations were exactly reversed. The Frenchmen had forgotten all about the danger， and were chattering gaily； the Englishmen had just begun to feel it， and one had a nervous breakdown and was obliged to go to bed. We have here a clear physical difference between the two races--a difference that goes deep into character. The Frenchmen responded at once； the Englishmen responded in time. They were slow and they were also practical. Their instinct forbade them to throw themselves about in the coach， because it was more likely to tip over if they did. They had this extraordinary appreciation of fact that we shall notice again and again. When a disaster comes， the English instinct is to do what can be done first， and to postpone the feeling as long as possible. Hence they are splendid at emergencies. No doubt they are brave--no one will deny that--bravery is partly an affair of the nerves， and the English nervous system is well equipped for meeting physical emergency.It acts promptly and feels slowly. Such a combination is fruitful， and anyone who possesses it has gone a long way toward being brave. And when the action is over， then the Englishman can feel.There is one more consideration -- a most important one. If the English nature is cold， how is it that it has produced a great literature and a literature that is particularly great in poetry？ Judged by its prose， English literature would not stand in the first rank. It is its poetry that raises it to the level of Greek， Persian， or French. And yet the English are supposed to be so unpoetical. How is this？ The nation that produced the Elizabethan drama and the Lake Poets cannot be a could，unpoetical nation. We can't get fire out of ice. Since literature always rests upon national character，there must be in the English nature hidden springs of fire to produce the fire we see. The warm sympathy， the romance， the imagination， that we look for in Englishmen whom we meet， and too often vainly look for， must exist in the nation as a whole， or we could not have this outburst of national song. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one.The trouble is that the English nature is not at all easy to understand. It has a great air of simplicity， it advertises itself as simple， but the more we consider it， the greater the problems we shall encounter. People talk of the mysterious East， but the West also is mysterious. It has depths that do not reveal themselves at the first gaze. We know what the sea looks like from a distance： it is of one color， and level， and obviously cannot contain such creatures as fish. But if we look into the sea over the edge of a boat， we see a dozen colors， and depth below depth， and fish swimming in them. That sea is the English character--apparently imperturbable and even. These depths and the colors are the English romanticism and the English sensitiveness--we do not expect to find such things， but they exist. And -- to continue my metaphor--the fish are the English emotions， which are always trying to get up to the surface， but don't quite know how. For the most part we see them moving far below， distorted and obscure. Now and then they succeed and we exclaim， "Why， the Englishman has emotions！ He actually can feel！" And occasionally we see that beautiful creature the flying fish， which rises out of the water altogether into the air and the sunlight. English literature is a flying fish. It is a sample of the life that goes on day after day beneath the surface； it is a proof that beauty and emotion exist in the salt， inhospitable sea.And now let's get back to terra firma. The Englishman's attitude toward criticism will give us another starting point. He is not annoyed by criticism. He listens or not as the case may be smiles and passes on， saying， "Oh， the fellow's jealous"； "Oh， I'm used to Bernard Shaw； monkey tricks don't hurt me." It never occurs to him that the fellow may be accurate as well as jealous， and that he might do well to take the criticism to heart and profit by it. It never strikes him--except as a form of words -- that he is capable of improvement； his self-complacency is abysmal. Other nations， both Oriental and European， have an uneasy feeling that they are not quite perfect. In consequence they resent criticism. It hurts them； and their snappy answers often mask a determination to improve themselves. Not so the Englishman. He has no uneasy feeling.Let the critics bark. And the "tolerant humorous attitude" with which he confronts them is not really humorous， because it is bounded by the titter and the guffaw.Turn over the pages of Punch. There is neither wit， laughter， nor satire in our national jester--only the snigger of a suburban householder who can understand nothing that does not resemble himself. Week after week， under Mr Punch's supervision， a man falls off his horse， or a colonel misses a golfball， or a little girl makes a mistake in her prayers. Week after week ladies show not too much of their legs， foreigners are deprecated， originality condemned. Week after week a bricklayer does not do as much work as he ought and a futurist does more than he need. It is all supposed to be so good-tempered and clean； it is also supposed to be funny. It is actually an outstanding example of our attitude toward criticism： the middle-class Englishman， with a smile on his clean-shaven lips， is engaged in admiring himself and ignoring the rest of mankind. If， in those colorless pages， he came across anything that really was funny -- a drawing by Max Beerbohm， for instance -- his smile would disappear， and he would say to himself， "The fellow's a bit of a crank，" and pass on.This particular attitude reveals such insensitiveness as to suggest a more serious charge： is the Englishman altogether indifferent to the things of the spirit？ Let us glance for a moment at his religion -- not， indeed， at his theology， which would not merit inspection， but at the action on his daily life of his belief in the unseen. Here again his attitude is practical. But an innate decency comes out： he is thinking of others rather than of himself. Right conduct is his aim. He asks of his religion that it shall make him a better man in daily life： that he shall be more kind， more just，more merciful， more desirous to fight what is evil and to protect what is good. No one could call this a low conception. It is， as far as it goes， a spiritual one. Yet -- and this seems to be typical of the race -- it is only half the religious idea. Religion is more than an ethical code with a divine sanction. It is also a means through which man may get into direct connection with the divine， and， judging by history， few Englishmen have succeeded in doing this. We have produced no series of prophets，as has Judaism or Islam. We have not even produced a Joan of Arc， or a Savonarola. We have produced few saints. In Germany the Reformation was due to the passionate conviction of Luther. In England it was due to palace intrigue. We can show a steady level of piety， a fixed determination to live decently according to our lights -- little more.Well， it is something. It clears us of the charge of being an unspiritual nation. That facile contrast between the spiritual East and the materialistic West can be pushed too far. The West also is spiritual. Only it expresses its belief， not in fasting and visions， not in prophetic rapture， but in the daily round， the common task. An incomplete expression， if you like. I agree. But the argument underlying these scattered notes is that the Englishman is an incomplete person. Not a cold or an unspiritual one. But undeveloped， incomplete.I have suggested earlier that the English are sometimes hypocrites， and it is not my duty to develop this rather painful subject. Hypocrisy is the prime charge that is always brought against us.The Germans are called brutal， the Spanish cruel， the Americans superficial， and so on； but we are perfide Albion， the island of hypocrites， the people who have built up an Empire with a Bible in one hand， a pistol in the other and financial concessions in both pockets. Is the charge true？ I think it is； but what we mean by hypocrisy？ Do we mean conscious deceit？ Well， the English are comparatively guiltless of this； they have little of the Renaissance villain about them. Do we mean unconscious deceit？ Muddle-headedness？ Of this I believe them to be guilty. When an Englishman has been led into a course of wrong action， he has nearly always begun by muddling himself. A public-school education does not make for mental clearness， and he possesses to a very high degree the power of confusing his own mind. How does it work in the domain of conduct？Jane Austen may seem an odd authority to cite， but Jane Austen has， within her limits， a marvelous insight into the English mind. Her range is limited， her characters never attempt any of the more scarlet sins. But she has a merciless eye for questions of conduct， and the classical example of two English people muddling themselves before they embark upon a wrong course of action is to be found in the opening chapters of Sense and Sensibility. Old Mr. Dashwood has just died. He has been twice married. By his first marriage he has a son， John； by his second marriage three daughters. The son is well off； the young ladies and their mother -- for Mr. Dashwood's second wife survives him -- are badly off. He has called his son to his death-bed and has solemnly adjured him to provide for the second family. Much moved， the young man promises， and mentally decides to give each of his sisters a thousand pounds： and then the comedy begins. For he announces his generous intention to his wife， and Mrs. John Dashwood by no means approves of depriving their own little boy of so large a sum. The thousand pounds are accordingly reduced to five hundred. But even this seems rather much. Might not an annuity to the stepmother be less of a wrench？ Yes -- but though less of a wrench it might be more of a drain， for "she is very stout and healthy， and scarcely forty." An occasional present of fifty pounds will be better， "and will， I think， be amply discharging my promise to my father." Or， better still， an occasional present of fish. And in the end nothing is done， nothing； the four impecunious ladies are not even helped in the moving of their furniture.Well， are the John Dashwoods hypocrites？ It depends upon our definition of hypocrisy. The young man could not see his evil impulses as they gathered force and gained on him. And even his wife， though a worse character， is also self-deceived. She reflects that old Mr. Dashwood may have been out of his mind at his death. She thinks of her own little boy -- and surely a mother ought to think of her own child. She has muddled herself so completely that in one sentence she can refuse the ladies the income that would enable them to keep a carriage and in the next can say that they will not be keeping a carriage and so will have no expenses. No doubt men and women in other lands can muddle themselves， too， yet the state of mind of Mr. and Mrs.John Dashwood seems to me typical of England. They are slow -- they take time even to do wrong； whereas people in other lands do wrong quickly.There are national faults as there are national diseases， and perhaps one can draw a parallel between them. It has always impressed me that the national diseases of England should be cancer and consumption -- slow， insidious， pretending to be something else； while the diseases proper to the South should be cholera and plague， which strike at a man when he is perfectly well and may leave him a corpse by evening. Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood are moral consumptives. They collapse gradually without realizing what the disease is. There is nothing dramatic or violent about their sin. You cannot call them villains.Here is the place to glance at some of the other charges that have been brought against the English as a nation. They have， for instance， been accused of treachery， cruelty， and fanaticism， In these charges I have never been able to see the least point， because treachery and cruelty are conscious sins. The man knows he is doing wrong， and does it deliberately， like Tartuffe or Iago. He betrays his friend because he wishes to. He tortures his prisoners because he enjoys seeing the blood flow. He worships the Devil because he prefers evil to good. From villainies such as these the average Englishman is free. His character， which prevents his rising to certain heights，also prevents him from sinking to these depths. Because he doesn't produce mystics he doesn't produce villains either； he gives the world no prophets， but no anarchists， no fanatics--religious or political.Of course there are cruel and treacherous people in England -- one has only to look at the police courts -- and examples of public infamy can be found， such as the Amritsar massacre. But one does not look at the police courts or the military mind to find the soul of any nation； and the more English people one meets the more convinced one becomes that the charges as a whole are untrue. Yet foreign critics often make them. Why？ Partly because they are annoyed with certain genuine defects in the English character， and in their irritation throw in cruelty in order to make the problem simpler. Moral indignation is always agreeable， but nearly always misplaced. It is indulged in both by the English and by the critics of the English. They all find it great fun. The drawback is that while they are amusing themselves the world becomes neither wiser nor better.The main point of these notes is that the English character is incomplete. No national character is complete. We have to look for some qualities in one part of the world and others in another. But the English character is incomplete in a way that is particularly annoying to the foreign observer. It has a bad surface -- self complacent， unsympathetic， and reserved. There is plenty of emotion further down， but it never gets used. There is plenty of brain power， but it is more often used to confirm prejudices than to dispel them. With such an equipment the Englishman cannot be popular. Only I would repeat： there is little vice in him and no real coldness. It is the machinery that is wrong.I hope and believe myself that in the next twenty years we shall see a great change， and that the national character will alter into something that is less unique but more lovable. The supremacy of the middle classes is probably ending. What new element the working classes will introduce one cannot say， but at all events they will not have been educated at public schools. And whether these notes praise or blame the English character -- that is only incidental. They are the notes of a student who is trying to get at the truth and would value the assistance of others. I believe myself that the truth is great and that it shall prevail. I have no faith in official caution and reticence. The cats are all out of their bags， and diplomacy cannot recall them. The nations must understand one another and quickly； and without the interposition of their governments， for the shrinkage of the globe is throwing them into one another's arms. To that understanding these notes are a feeble contribution -- notes on the English character as it has struck a novelist.。
Notes on english characters 英国人性格琐谈1-9段中文翻译
英国人性格琐谈E.M 福斯特1.第一条笔记。
我最好是马上说出秘密，告诉大家我的观点吧。
英国人的性格基本都表现在中产阶级身上。
我这样说是因为我有这样一条具有说服力的历史理由，自十八世纪末以来，中产阶级已经成为我们社会中的主要力量。
他们通过工业革命赢得财富，通过1832年的《改革法案》赢得政治权力；他们和不列颠王朝的兴起和组成联系在一起；他们为19世纪文学的繁荣担负了责任。
可靠，谨慎，正直，高效。
缺乏想象力，虚伪。
这些特征是每个国家的中产阶级都具有的，但在英国，它们也成为了国家的象征。
因为只有在英国，中产阶级才能掌权150年。
拿破仑曾无礼的称我们为“一个零售商组成的国家”。
我们更喜欢称自己“一个伟大的商业性国家”----它听起来更有尊严一些----但二者意义是相同的。
当然，也有一些其他的阶级：有贵族阶级；也有穷人阶级。
但是，（在英国）最吸引批评者关注的是中产阶级，正如在俄国人们关注的是穷人，在日本人们关注的是贵族一样。
农民或工厂工人象征着俄国；武士象征着日本；英国的国家形象是布尔先生，他头戴礼帽，身穿舒适的衣服，大腹便便，银行存款很多。
圣乔治可能常活跃于横幅或政治家的言论中，但促使商品流通的是约翰·布尔。
而且，即使是圣乔治----如果吉本是正确的话---也曾戴过一顶礼帽，他也曾签订军火买卖合同，也曾提供质量低劣的熏肉。
这一切的最终意义都是相同的。
2.第二条笔记。
正如中产阶级是英格兰的核心一样，英国公学制度是中产阶级的核心。
这种特殊制度的建立具有地方性。
它甚至不存在于整个不列颠岛上。
爱尔兰没有这种制度，苏格兰几乎无人知晓，尽管它可能会激发起其他伟大制度的建立----例如，阿里格尔，以及美国的一些学校----它仍然独特，因为它是由安格鲁-撒克逊中产阶级创立的，而且它只在它能够繁荣的地方得到繁荣。
英国公学制度比大学更充分表现了英国中产阶级的性格。
社会与精神的复杂性已经进入大学。
依靠它的寄宿公寓，它的必修体育运动，它的学长制，它对良好举止行为和团队精神的执著，它所培养出来的学生产生的社会影响力与学生数量不成比例，前者超过后者。
英国散文欣赏：Notes on the English Character by E.M. Forster
英国散文欣赏：Notes on the English Character by E.M. Forster First note. I had better let the cat out of the bag at once and record my opinion that the character of the English is essentially middle class. There is a sound historical reason for this, for, since the end of the eighteenth century, the middle classes have been the dominant force in our community. They gained wealth by the Industrial Revolution, political power by the Reform Bill of 1832; they are connected with the rise and organization of the British Empire; they are responsible for the literature of the nineteenth century. Solidity, caution, integrity, efficiency. Lack of imagination, hypocrisy. These qualities characterize the middle classes in every country, but in England they are national characteristics also, because only in England have the middle classes been in power for one hundred and fifty years. Napoleon, in his rude way, called us "a nation of shopkeepers." We prefer to call ourselves "a great commercial nation" -- it sounds more dignified -- but the two phrases amount to the same. Of course there are other classes：there is an aristocracy, there are the poor. But it is on the middle classes that the eye of the critic rests -- just as it rests on the poor in Russia and on the aristocracy in Japan. Russia is symbolized by the peasant or by the factory worker; Japan by the samurai; the national figure of England is Mr. Bull with his top hat, his comfortable clothes, his substantial stomach, and his substantial balance at the bank. Saint George may caper on banners and in the speeches of politicians, but it is John Bull who delivers the goods. And even Saint George-- if Gibbon is correct-- wore a top hat once; he was an army contractor and supplied indifferent bacon. It all amounts to the same in the end.Second Note. Just as the heart of England is the middle classes, so the heart of the middle classes is the public school system. This extraordinary institution is local. It does not even exist all over the British Isles. It is unknown in Ireland, almost unknown in Scotland （countries excluded from my survey）, and though it may inspire other great institutions--Aligarh, for example, and some of the schools in the United States--it remains unique, because it was created by the Anglo-Saxon middle classes, and can flourish only where they flourish. How perfectly it expresses their character -- far better for instance, than does the university, into which social and spiritual complexities have already entered. With its boarding-houses, its compulsory games, its system of prefects and fagging, its insistence on good form and on esprit de corps, it produces a type whose weight is out of all proportion to its numbers. On leaving his school, the boy either sets to work at once -- goes into the army or into business, or emigrates -- or else proceeds to the university, and after three or four years there enters some other profession -- becomes a barrister, doctor, civil servant, schoolmaster, or journalist. （If through some mishap he does not become a manual worker or an artist.）In all these careers his education, or the absence of it, influences him. Its memories influence him also. Many men look back on their school days as the happiest of their lives. They remember with regret that golden time when life, though hard, was not yet complex, when they all worked together and played together and thought together, so far as they thought at all; when they were taught that school is theworld in miniature and believed that no one can love his country who does not love his school. And they prolong that time as best they can by joining their Old Boys' society：indeed, some of them remain Old Boys and nothing else for the rest of their lives. They attribute all good to the school. They worship it. They quote the remark that "The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton." It is nothing to them that the remark is inapplicable historically and was never made by the Duke of Wellington, and that the Duke of Wellington was an Irishman. They go on quoting it because it expresses their sentiments; they feel that if the Duke of Wellington didn't make it he ought to have, and if he wasn't an Englishman he ought to have been. And they go forth into a world that is not entirely composed of public-school men or even of Anglo-Saxons, but of men who are as various as the sands of the sea; into a world of whose richness and subtlety they have no conception. They go forth into it with well-developed bodies, fairly developed minds, and undeveloped hearts. And it is this undeveloped heart that is largely responsible for the difficulties of Englishmen abroad. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one. The difference is important, and on it my next note will be based.For it is not that the Englishman can't feel -- it is that he is afraid to feel. He has been taught at his public school that feeling is bad form. He must not express great joy or sorrow, or even open his mouth too wide when he talks--his pipe might fall out if he did. He must bottle up his emotions, or let them out only on a very special occasion.Once upon a time （this is an anecdote）I went for a week's holiday on the Continent with an Indian friend. We both enjoyed ourselves and were sorry when the week was over, but on parting our behaviour was absolutely different. He was plunged in despair.He felt that because the holiday was over all happiness was over until the world ended. He could not express his sorrow too much. But in me the Englishman came out strong. I reflected that we should meet again in a month or two, and could write in the interval if we had anything to say; and under these circumstances I could not see what there was to make a fuss about. It wasn't as if we were parting forever or dying. "Buck up," I said, "do buck up." He refused to buck up, and I left him plunged in gloom.The conclusion of the anecdote is even more instructive. For when we met the next month our conversation threw a good deal of light on the English character. I began by scolding my friend. I told him that he had been wrong to feel and display so much emotion upon so slight an occasion; that it was inappropriate. The word "inappropriate" roused him to fury. "What？" he cried. "Do you measure out your emotions as if they were potatoes？" I did not like the simile of the potatoes, but after a moment's reflection I said："Yes, I do; and what's more, I think I ought to. A small occasion demands a little emotion just as a large occasion demands a great one. I would like my emotions to be appropriate. This may be measuring them like potatoes, but it is better than slopping them about like water from a pail, which is what you did." He did not like the simile of the pail. "If those are your opinions, they part us forever," he cried, and left the room. Returning immediately, he added："No--but your whole attitude toward emotion is wrong. Emotion has nothing to do with appropriateness. It matters only that it shall be sincere. I happened to feel deeply. I showedit. It doesn't matter whether I ought to have felt deeply or not."This remark impressed me very much. Yet I could not agree with it, and said that I valued emotion as much as he did, but used it differently; if I poured it out on small occasions I was afraid of having none left for the great ones, and of being bankrupt at the crises of life. Note the word "bankrupt." I spoke as a member of a prudent middle-class nation, always anxious to meet my liabilities, but my friend spoke as an Oriental, and the Oriental has behind him a tradition, not of middle-class prudence but of kingly munificence and splendour. He feels his resources are endless, just as John Bull feels his are finite. As regards material resources, the Oriental is clearly unwise. Money isn't endless. If we spend or give away all the money we have, we haven't any more, and must take the consequences, which are frequently unpleasant. But, as regards the resources of the spirit, he may be right. The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express. True love in this differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away.Says Shelley. Shelley, at all events, believes that the wealth of the spirit is endless; that we may express it copiously, passionately, and always; that we can never feel sorrow or joy too acutely.In the above anecdote, I have figured as a typical Englishman. I will now descend from that dizzy and somewhat unfamiliar height, and return to my business of notetaking. A note on the slowness of the English character. The Englishman appears to be cold and unemotional because he is really slow. When an event happens, he may understand it quickly enough with his mind, but he takes quite a while to feel it. Once upon a time a coach, containing some Englishmen and some Frenchmen, was driving over the Alps. The horses ran away, and as they were dashing across a bridge the coach caught on the stonework, tottered, and nearly fell into the ravine below. The Frenchmen were frantic with terror：they screamed and gesticulated and flung themselves about, as Frenchmen would. The Englishmen sat quite calm. An hour later, the coach drew up at an inn to change horses, and by that time the situations were exactly reversed. The Frenchmen had forgotten all about the danger, and were chattering gaily; the Englishmen had just begun to feel it, and one had a nervous breakdown and was obliged to go to bed. We have here a clear physical difference between the two races--a difference that goes deep into character. The Frenchmen responded at once; the Englishmen responded in time. They were slow and they were also practical. Their instinct forbade them to throw themselves about in the coach, because it was more likely to tip over if they did. They had this extraordinary appreciation of fact that we shall notice again and again. When a disaster comes, the English instinct is to do what can be done first, and to postpone the feeling as long as possible. Hence they are splendid at emergencies. No doubt they are brave--no one will deny that--bravery is partly an affair of the nerves, and the English nervous system is well equipped for meeting physical emergency.It acts promptly and feels slowly. Such a combination is fruitful, and anyone who possesses it has gone a long way toward being brave. And when the action is over, then the Englishman can feel.There is one more consideration -- a most important one. If the English nature is cold, how is it that it has produced a great literature and a literature that is particularly great in poetry？Judged by its prose, English literature would not stand in the first rank. It is its poetry that raises it to the level of Greek, Persian, or French. And yet the English are supposed to be so unpoetical. How is this？The nation that produced the Elizabethan drama and the Lake Poets cannot be a could, unpoetical nation. We can't get fire out of ice. Since literature always rests upon national character, there must be in the English nature hidden springs of fire to produce the fire we see. The warm sympathy, the romance, the imagination, that we look for in Englishmen whom we meet, and too often vainly look for, must exist in the nation as a whole, or we could not have this outburst of national song. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one.The trouble is that the English nature is not at all easy to understand. It has a great air of simplicity, it advertises itself as simple, but the more we consider it, the greater the problems we shall encounter. People talk of the mysterious East, but the West also is mysterious. It has depths that do not reveal themselves at the first gaze. We know what the sea looks like from a distance：it is of one color, and level, and obviously cannot contain such creatures as fish. But if we look into the sea over the edge of a boat, we see a dozen colors, and depth below depth, and fish swimming in them. That sea is the English character--apparently imperturbable and even. These depths and the colors are the English romanticism and the English sensitiveness--we do not expect to find such things, but they exist. And -- to continue my metaphor--the fish are the English emotions, which are always trying to get up to the surface, but don't quite know how. For the most part we see them moving far below, distorted and obscure. Now and then they succeed and we exclaim, "Why, the Englishman has emotions！He actually can feel！" And occasionally we see that beautiful creature the flying fish, which rises out of the water altogether into the air and the sunlight. English literature is a flying fish. It is a sample of the life that goes on day after day beneath the surface; it is a proof that beauty and emotion exist in the salt, inhospitable sea.And now let's get back to terra firma. The Englishman's attitude toward criticism will give us another starting point. He is not annoyed by criticism. He listens or not as the case may be smiles and passes on, saying, "Oh, the fellow's jealous"; "Oh, I'm used to Bernard Shaw; monkey tricks don't hurt me." It never occurs to him that the fellow may be accurate as well as jealous, and that he might do well to take the criticism to heart and profit by it. It never strikes him--except as a form of words -- that he is capable of improvement; his self-complacency is abysmal. Other nations, both Oriental and European, have an uneasy feeling that they are not quite perfect. In consequence they resent criticism. It hurts them; and their snappy answers often mask a determination to improve themselves. Not so the Englishman. He has no uneasy feeling. Let the critics bark. And the "tolerant humorous attitude" with which he confronts them is not really humorous, because it is bounded by the titter and the guffaw.Turn over the pages of Punch. There is neither wit, laughter, nor satire in our nationaljester--only the snigger of a suburban householder who can understand nothing that does not resemble himself. Week after week, under Mr Punch's supervision, a man falls off his horse, or a colonel misses a golfball, or a little girl makes a mistake in her prayers. Week after week ladies show not too much of their legs, foreigners are deprecated, originality condemned. Week after week a bricklayer does not do as much work as he ought and a futurist does more than he need. It is all supposed to be so good-tempered and clean; it is also supposed to be funny. It is actually an outstanding example of our attitude toward criticism：the middle-class Englishman, with a smile on his clean-shaven lips, is engaged in admiring himself and ignoring the rest of mankind. If, in those colorless pages, he came across anything that really was funny -- a drawing by Max Beerbohm, for instance -- his smile would disappear, and he would say to himself, "The fellow's a bit of a crank," and pass on.This particular attitude reveals such insensitiveness as to suggest a more serious charge：is the Englishman altogether indifferent to the things of the spirit？Let us glance for a moment at his religion -- not, indeed, at his theology, which would not merit inspection, but at the action on his daily life of his belief in the unseen. Here again his attitude is practical. But an innate decency comes out：he is thinking of others rather than of himself. Right conduct is his aim. He asks of his religion that it shall make him a better man in daily life：that he shall be more kind, more just, more merciful, more desirous to fight what is evil and to protect what is good. No one could call this a low conception. It is, as far as it goes, a spiritual one. Yet -- and this seems to be typical of the race -- it is only half the religious idea. Religion is more than an ethical code with a divine sanction. It is also a means through which man may get into direct connection with the divine, and, judging by history, few Englishmen have succeeded in doing this. We have produced no series of prophets, as has Judaism or Islam. We have not even produced a Joan of Arc, or a Savonarola. We have produced few saints. In Germany the Reformation was due to the passionate conviction of Luther. In England it was due to palace intrigue. We can show a steady level of piety, a fixed determination to live decently according to our lights -- little more.Well, it is something. It clears us of the charge of being an unspiritual nation. That facile contrast between the spiritual East and the materialistic West can be pushed too far. The West also is spiritual. Only it expresses its belief, not in fasting and visions, not in prophetic rapture, but in the daily round, the common task. An incomplete expression, if you like. I agree. But the argument underlying these scattered notes is that the Englishman is an incomplete person. Not a cold or an unspiritual one. But undeveloped, incomplete.I have suggested earlier that the English are sometimes hypocrites, and it is not my duty to develop this rather painful subject. Hypocrisy is the prime charge that is always brought against us. The Germans are called brutal, the Spanish cruel, the Americans superficial, and so on; but we are perfide Albion, the island of hypocrites, the people who have built up an Empire with a Bible in one hand, a pistol in the other and financial concessions in both pockets. Is the charge true？I think it is; but what we mean byhypocrisy？Do we mean conscious deceit？Well, the English are comparatively guiltless of this; they have little of the Renaissance villain about them. Do we mean unconscious deceit？Muddle-headedness？Of this I believe them to be guilty. When an Englishman has been led into a course of wrong action, he has nearly always begun by muddling himself.A public-school education does not make for mental clearness, and he possesses to a very high degree the power of confusing his own mind. How does it work in the domain of conduct？Jane Austen may seem an odd authority to cite, but Jane Austen has, within her limits, a marvelous insight into the English mind. Her range is limited, her characters never attempt any of the more scarlet sins. But she has a merciless eye for questions of conduct, and the classical example of two English people muddling themselves before they embark upon a wrong course of action is to be found in the opening chapters of Sense and Sensibility. Old Mr. Dashwood has just died. He has been twice married. By his first marriage he has a son, John; by his second marriage three daughters. The son is well off; the young ladies and their mother -- for Mr. Dashwood's second wife survives him -- are badly off. He has called his son to his death-bed and has solemnly adjured him to provide for the second family. Much moved, the young man promises, and mentally decides to give each of his sisters a thousand pounds：and then the comedy begins. For he announces his generous intention to his wife, and Mrs. John Dashwood by no means approves of depriving their own little boy of so large a sum. The thousand pounds are accordingly reduced to five hundred. But even this seems rather much. Might not an annuity to the stepmother be less of a wrench？Yes -- but though less of a wrench it might be more of a drain, for "she is very stout and healthy, and scarcely forty." An occasional present of fifty pounds will be better, "and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise to my father." Or, better still, an occasional present of fish. And in the end nothing is done, nothing; the four impecunious ladies are not even helped in the moving of their furniture.Well, are the John Dashwoods hypocrites？It depends upon our definition of hypocrisy. The young man could not see his evil impulses as they gathered force and gained on him. And even his wife, though a worse character, is also self-deceived. She reflects that old Mr. Dashwood may have been out of his mind at his death. She thinks of her own little boy -- and surely a mother ought to think of her own child. She has muddled herself so completely that in one sentence she can refuse the ladies the income that would enable them to keep a carriage and in the next can say that they will not be keeping a carriage and so will have no expenses. No doubt men and women in other lands can muddle themselves, too, yet the state of mind of Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood seems to me typical of England. They are slow -- they take time even to do wrong; whereas people in other lands do wrong quickly.There are national faults as there are national diseases, and perhaps one can draw a parallel between them. It has always impressed me that the national diseases of England should be cancer and consumption -- slow, insidious, pretending to be something else; while the diseases proper to the South should be cholera and plague, which strike at a manwhen he is perfectly well and may leave him a corpse by evening. Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood are moral consumptives. They collapse gradually without realizing what the disease is. There is nothing dramatic or violent about their sin. You cannot call them villains.Here is the place to glance at some of the other charges that have been brought against the English as a nation. They have, for instance, been accused of treachery, cruelty, and fanaticism, In these charges I have never been able to see the least point, because treachery and cruelty are conscious sins. The man knows he is doing wrong, and does it deliberately, like Tartuffe or Iago. He betrays his friend because he wishes to. He tortures his prisoners because he enjoys seeing the blood flow. He worships the Devil because he prefers evil to good. From villainies such as these the average Englishman is free. His character, which prevents his rising to certain heights, also prevents him from sinking to these depths. Because he doesn't produce mystics he doesn't produce villains either; he gives the world no prophets, but no anarchists, no fanatics--religious or political.Of course there are cruel and treacherous people in England -- one has only to look at the police courts -- and examples of public infamy can be found, such as the Amritsar massacre. But one does not look at the police courts or the military mind to find the soul of any nation; and the more English people one meets the more convinced one becomes that the charges as a whole are untrue. Yet foreign critics often make them. Why？Partly because they are annoyed with certain genuine defects in the English character, and in their irritation throw in cruelty in order to make the problem simpler. Moral indignation is always agreeable, but nearly always misplaced. It is indulged in both by the English and by the critics of the English. They all find it great fun. The drawback is that while they are amusing themselves the world becomes neither wiser nor better.The main point of these notes is that the English character is incomplete. No national character is complete. We have to look for some qualities in one part of the world and others in another. But the English character is incomplete in a way that is particularly annoying to the foreign observer. It has a bad surface -- self complacent, unsympathetic, and reserved. There is plenty of emotion further down, but it never gets used. There is plenty of brain power, but it is more often used to confirm prejudices than to dispel them. With such an equipment the Englishman cannot be popular. Only I would repeat：there is little vice in him and no real coldness. It is the machinery that is wrong.I hope and believe myself that in the next twenty years we shall see a great change, and that the national character will alter into something that is less unique but more lovable. The supremacy of the middle classes is probably ending. What new element the working classes will introduce one cannot say, but at all events they will not have been educated at public schools. And whether these notes praise or blame the English character -- that is only incidental. They are the notes of a student who is trying to get at the truth and would value the assistance of others. I believe myself that the truth is great and that it shall prevail. I have no faith in official caution and reticence. The cats are all out of their bags, and diplomacy cannot recall them. The nations must understand one another and quickly; and without the interposition of their governments, for the shrinkage of the globeis throwing them into one another's arms. To that understanding these notes are a feeble contribution -- notes on the English character as it has struck a novelist.。
经典：刘庆雪Notes-on-English-Character
8
E. M. Forster
• Between 1905 and 1910 Forster published four novels:
• Where Angelsห้องสมุดไป่ตู้Fear To Tread踩踏(1905)伦 敦落雾
• A Room with a View(1908)
• The Longest Journey(1907)
• It based partly on the material from extended holidays in Italy with his mother. The first part of the novel is set in Florence, where the young Lucy Honeychurch is visitng with her older cousin Charlotte Bartless. Lucy witnesses a murder and becomes caught between two man, shallow, conventional Cecil Vyse and George Emerson, who kisses Lucy during a picnic. The second half of the novel takes place at Windy Corner, Lucy's home on Summer Street. She accepts a marriage proposal from Cecil. The Emerson become friends of the Honeychurches. Finally Lucy overcomes prejudices and marries George. The story develops the conflict between spontaneous love
高级英语6 lesson10 英国人的性格笔记
木葱郁的花园以及远处的牧场和松林。它与书中主要女性
人物密切关联，代表着与传统农业相联系、根植于家乡土 地并与大自然和谐共处的生存方式，也代表着古老英国的
土地资产和精神传统。
• 《霍华德庄园》是 E·M·福斯特最成熟，最优秀的早期 作品。
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Maurice is something from forster`s bottom drawer.It was writen in 1913-1914, but not published until after his
would imagine he could have been more honest and therefore more successful.
•
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Hale Waihona Puke 5.《印度之旅》1924 A Passage to India
6.《莫瑞斯 》
1971 Maurice
7.《小说的几个方面》
1927 Aspects of the Novel
8.《阿宾哲收获集》
1936 Abinger Harvest,
A Passage to India is Forster`s masterpiece
《印度之行》是现实主义、象征意境和哲学洞察力 的完美结合。小说标题取自美国诗人沃尔特・惠特曼 的诗歌《印度之 行》(APassagetoIndia)。诗中的印 度象征着灵魂的归宿,而福斯特笔下的印度也同样超 越了其地理含义,它代表着浩瀚的宇宙。小说家通过 “阐释人类在一个我们迄今尚无法理解 的宇宙世界 中所面临的困境”来找寻“一个 更加持久的人类之 家”。 • 小说情节的发展是借助英印双方为消除彼此隔阂而作 出的各种尝试和努力来展开的。第一次是由英国官方 组织的“联谊会”:会上英国人和印度人之间相互排 斥、隔离的场面强化了人类群体互不相容的感觉。双 方的敌意和缺少沟通使这一次“联接”以失败告终— ——英国人与印度人之间的鸿沟进一步加深。
Notes on the English Character Para.3 ppt - 副本 (2)
Old Boy’s Society
Old Boy’s society: An old boy network or society can refer to social and business associations among former pupils of top male-only public schools What does the author think of those Old Boys? They regret that golden time is over when they leave school and have to go forth into the world.So they try to make that memorable time last longer. The way of doing so is to join the Old Boys' society. Some of them try to hold on to youth and never grow up,never become mature.
What does “so far as they thought at all” mean? The author is being satirical, implying that owing to the public school system the students do not think independently enough
Sentiment
Sentiment often applies to a thought or opinion arising from or influenced by emotion: Sentiment 常指由情感或受情感影响而产生的想法或意见 E.g. What are your sentiments about the government's policies?你对政府的政策有什么想法？ The word can also refer to the delicate, sensitive, or higher or more refined feelings: 此词也指细腻的、敏感的或更高级或更细微的感情
notesontheenglishcharacterbye.m.forster
First note. I had better let the cat out of the bag at once and record my opinion that the character of the English is essentially middle class. There is a sound historical reason for this, for, since the end of the eighteenth century, the middle classes have been the dominant force in our community. They gained wealth by the Industrial Revolution, political power by the Reform Bill of 1832; they are connected with the rise and organization of the British Empire; they are responsible for the literature of the nineteenth century. Solidity, caution, integrity, efficiency. Lack of imagination, hypocrisy. These qualities characterize the middle classes in every country, but in England they are national characteristics also, because only in England have the middle classes been in power for one hundred and fifty years. Napoleon, in his rude way, called us "a nation of shopkeepers." We prefer to call ourselves "a great commercial nation" -- it sounds more dignified -- but the two phrases amount to the same. Of course there are other classes: there is an aristocracy, there are the poor. But it is on the middle classes that the eye of the critic rests -- just as it rests on the poor in Russia and on the aristocracy in Japan. Russia is symbolized by the peasant or by the factory worker; Japan by the samurai; the national figureof England is Mr. Bull with his top hat, his comfortable clothes, his substantial stomach, and his substantial balance at the bank. Saint George may caper on banners and in the speeches of politicians, but it is John Bull who delivers the goods. And even Saint George-- if Gibbon is correct-- wore a top hat once; he was an army contractor and supplied indifferent bacon. It all amounts to the same in the end.Second Note. Just as the heart of England is the middle classes, so the heart of the middle classes is the public school system. This extraordinary institution is local. It does not even exist all over the British Isles. It is unknown in Ireland, almost unknown in Scotland (countries excluded from my survey), and though it may inspire other great institutions--Aligarh, for example, and some of the schools in the United States--it remains unique, because it was created by the Anglo-Saxon middle classes, and can flourish only where they flourish. How perfectly it expresses their character -- far better for instance, than does the university, into which social and spiritual complexities have already entered. With its boarding-houses, its compulsory games, its system of prefects and fagging, its insistence on good form and on esprit de corps,it produces a type whose weight is out of all proportion to its numbers.On leaving his school, the boy either sets to work at once -- goes into the army or into business, or emigrates -- or else proceeds to the university, and after three or four years there enters some other profession -- becomes a barrister, doctor, civil servant, schoolmaster, or journalist. (If through some mishap he does not become a manual worker or an artist.) In all these careers his education, or the absence of it, influences him. Its memories influence him also. Many men look back on their school days as the happiest of their lives. They remember with regret that golden time when life, though hard, was not yet complex, when they all worked together and played together and thought together, so far as they thought at all; when they were taught that school is the world in miniature and believed that no one can love his country who does not love his school. And they prolong that time as best they can by joining their Old Boys' society: indeed, some of them remain Old Boys and nothing else for the rest of their lives. They attribute all good to the school. They worship it. They quote the remark that "The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton." It is nothing to them that the remarkis inapplicable historically and was never made by the Duke of Wellington, and that the Duke of Wellington was an Irishman. They go on quoting it because it expresses their sentiments; they feel that if the Duke of Wellington didn't make it he ought to have, and if he wasn't an Englishman he ought to have been. And they go forth into a world that is not entirely composed of public-school men or even of Anglo-Saxons, but of men who are as various as the sands of the sea; into a world of whose richness and subtlety they have no conception. They go forth into it with well-developed bodies, fairly developed minds, and undeveloped hearts. And it is this undeveloped heart that is largely responsible for the difficulties of Englishmen abroad. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one. The difference is important, and on it my next note will be based.For it is not that the Englishman can't feel -- it is that he is afraid to feel. He has been taught at his public school that feeling is bad form. He must not express great joy or sorrow, or even open his mouth too wide when he talks--his pipe might fall out if he did. He must bottle up his emotions, or let them out only on a very special occasion.Once upon a time (this is an anecdote) I went for a week's holiday on the Continent with an Indian friend. We both enjoyedourselves and were sorry when the week was over, but on parting our behaviour was absolutely different. He was plunged in despair.He felt that because the holiday was over all happiness was over until the world ended. He could not express his sorrow too much. But in me the Englishman came out strong. I reflected that we should meet again in a month or two, and could write in the interval if we had anything to say; and under these circumstances I could not see what there was to make a fuss about. It wasn't as if we were parting forever or dying. "Buck up,"I said, "do buck up." He refused to buck up, and I left him plunged in gloom.The conclusion of the anecdote is even more instructive. For when we met the next month our conversation threw a good deal of light on the English character. I began by scolding my friend. I told him that he had been wrong to feel and display so much emotion upon so slight an occasion; that it was inappropriate. The word "inappropriate" roused him to fury. "What" he cried. "Do you measure out your emotions as if they were potatoes" I did not like the simile of the potatoes, but after a moment's reflection I said: "Yes, I do; and what's more, I think I ought to. A small occasion demands a little emotionjust as a large occasion demands a great one. I would like my emotions to be appropriate. This may be measuring them like potatoes, but it is better than slopping them about like water from a pail, which is what you did." He did not like the simile of the pail. "If those are your opinions, they part us forever," he cried, and left the room. Returning immediately, he added: "No--but your whole attitude toward emotion is wrong. Emotion has nothing to do with appropriateness. It matters only that it shall be sincere. I happened to feel deeply. I showed it. It doesn't matter whether I ought to have felt deeply or not." This remark impressed me very much. Yet I could not agree with it, and said that I valued emotion as much as he did, but used it differently; if I poured it out on small occasions I was afraid of having none left for the great ones, and of being bankrupt at the crises of life. Note the word "bankrupt." I spoke as a member of a prudent middle-class nation, always anxious to meet my liabilities, but my friend spoke as an Oriental, and the Oriental has behind him a tradition, not of middle-class prudence but of kingly munificence and splendour. He feels his resources are endless, just as John Bull feels his are finite. As regards material resources, the Oriental is clearly unwise. Money isn't endless. If we spend or give awayall the money we have, we haven't any more, and must take the consequences, which are frequently unpleasant. But, as regards the resources of the spirit, he may be right. The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express.True love in this differs from gold and clay,That to divide is not to take away.Says Shelley. Shelley, at all events, believes that the wealth of the spirit is endless; that we may express it copiously, passionately, and always; that we can never feel sorrow or joy too acutely.In the above anecdote, I have figured as a typical Englishman. I will now descend from that dizzy and somewhat unfamiliar height, and return to my business of notetaking. A note on the slowness of the English character. The Englishman appears to be cold and unemotional because he is really slow. When an event happens, he may understand it quickly enough with his mind, but he takes quite a while to feel it. Once upon a time a coach, containing some Englishmen and some Frenchmen, was driving over the Alps. The horses ran away, and as they weredashing across a bridge the coach caught on the stonework, tottered, and nearly fell into the ravine below. The Frenchmen were frantic with terror: they screamed and gesticulated and flung themselves about, as Frenchmen would. The Englishmen sat quite calm. An hour later, the coach drew up at an inn to change horses, and by that time the situations were exactly reversed. The Frenchmen had forgotten all about the danger, and were chattering gaily; the Englishmen had just begun to feel it, and one had a nervous breakdown and was obliged to go to bed. We have here a clear physical difference between the two races--a difference that goes deep into character. The Frenchmen responded at once; the Englishmen responded in time. They were slow and they were also practical. Their instinct forbade them to throw themselves about in the coach, because it was more likely to tip over if they did. They had this extraordinary appreciation of fact that we shall notice again and again. When a disaster comes, the English instinct is to do what can be done first, and to postpone the feeling as long as possible. Hence they are splendid at emergencies. No doubt they are brave--no one will deny that--bravery is partly an affair of the nerves, and the English nervous system is well equipped for meeting physical emergency.It acts promptly and feels slowly. Such a combination is fruitful, and anyone who possesses it has gone a long way toward being brave. And when the action is over, then the Englishman can feel.There is one more consideration -- a most important one. If the English nature is cold, how is it that it has produced a great literature and a literature that is particularly great in poetry Judged by its prose, English literature would not stand in the first rank. It is its poetry that raises it to the level of Greek, Persian, or French. And yet the English are supposed to be so unpoetical. How is this The nation that produced the Elizabethan drama and the Lake Poets cannot be a could, unpoetical nation. We can't get fire out of ice. Since literature always rests upon national character, there must be in the English nature hidden springs of fire to produce the fire we see. The warm sympathy, the romance, the imagination, that we look for in Englishmen whom we meet, and too often vainly look for, must exist in the nation as a whole, or we could not have this outburst of national song. An undeveloped heart--not a cold one.The trouble is that the English nature is not at all easy to understand. It has a great air of simplicity, it advertisesitself as simple, but the more we consider it, the greater the problems we shall encounter. People talk of the mysterious East, but the West also is mysterious. It has depths that do not reveal themselves at the first gaze. We know what the sea looks like from a distance: it is of one color, and level, and obviously cannot contain such creatures as fish. But if we look into the sea over the edge of a boat, we see a dozen colors, and depth below depth, and fish swimming in them. That sea is the English character--apparently imperturbable and even. These depths and the colors are the English romanticism and the English sensitiveness--we do not expect to find such things, but they exist. And -- to continue my metaphor--the fish are the English emotions, which are always trying to get up to the surface, but don't quite know how. For the most part we see them moving far below, distorted and obscure. Now and then they succeed and we exclaim, "Why, the Englishman has emotions! He actually can feel!" And occasionally we see that beautiful creature the flying fish, which rises out of the water altogether into the air and the sunlight. English literature is a flying fish. It is a sample of the life that goes on day after day beneath the surface; it is a proof that beauty and emotion exist in the salt, inhospitable sea.And now let's get back to terra firma. The Englishman's attitude toward criticism will give us another starting point. He is not annoyed by criticism. He listens or not as the case may be smiles and passes on, saying, "Oh, the fellow's jealous"; "Oh, I'm used to Bernard Shaw; monkey tricks don't hurt me." It never occurs to him that the fellow may be accurate as well as jealous, and that he might do well to take the criticism to heart and profit by it. It never strikes him--except as a form of words -- that he is capable of improvement; his self-complacency is abysmal. Other nations, both Oriental and European, have an uneasy feeling that they are not quite perfect. In consequence they resent criticism. It hurts them; and their snappy answers often mask a determination to improve themselves. Not so the Englishman. He has no uneasy feeling. Let the critics bark. And the "tolerant humorous attitude" with which he confronts them is not really humorous, because it is bounded by the titter and the guffaw.Turn over the pages of Punch. There is neither wit, laughter, nor satire in our national jester--only the snigger of a suburban householder who can understand nothing that does not resemble himself. Week after week, under Mr Punch'ssupervision, a man falls off his horse, or a colonel misses a golfball, or a little girl makes a mistake in her prayers. Week after week ladies show not too much of their legs, foreigners are deprecated, originality condemned. Week after week a bricklayer does not do as much work as he ought and a futurist does more than he need. It is all supposed to be so good-tempered and clean; it is also supposed to be funny. It is actually an outstanding example of our attitude toward criticism: the middle-class Englishman, with a smile on his clean-shaven lips, is engaged in admiring himself and ignoring the rest of mankind. If, in those colorless pages, he came across anything that really was funny -- a drawing by Max Beerbohm, for instance -- his smile would disappear, and he would say to himself, "The fellow's a bit of a crank," and pass on.This particular attitude reveals such insensitiveness as to suggest a more serious charge: is the Englishman altogether indifferent to the things of the spirit Let us glance for a moment at his religion -- not, indeed, at his theology, which would not merit inspection, but at the action on his daily life of his belief in the unseen. Here again his attitude is practical. But an innate decency comes out: he is thinking of others rather than of himself. Right conduct is his aim. He asksof his religion that it shall make him a better man in daily life: that he shall be more kind, more just, more merciful, more desirous to fight what is evil and to protect what is good. No one could call this a low conception. It is, as far as it goes, a spiritual one. Yet -- and this seems to be typical of the race -- it is only half the religious idea. Religion is more than an ethical code with a divine sanction. It is also a means through which man may get into direct connection with the divine, and, judging by history, few Englishmen have succeeded in doing this. We have produced no series of prophets, as has Judaism or Islam. We have not even produced a Joan of Arc, or a Savonarola. We have produced few saints. In Germany the Reformation was due to the passionate conviction of Luther. In England it was due to palace intrigue. We can show a steady level of piety, a fixed determination to live decently according to our lights -- little more.Well, it is something. It clears us of the charge of being an unspiritual nation. That facile contrast between the spiritual East and the materialistic West can be pushed too far. The West also is spiritual. Only it expresses its belief, not in fasting and visions, not in prophetic rapture, but in the daily round, the common task. An incomplete expression, if youlike. I agree. But the argument underlying these scattered notes is that the Englishman is an incomplete person. Not a cold or an unspiritual one. But undeveloped, incomplete.I have suggested earlier that the English are sometimes hypocrites, and it is not my duty to develop this rather painful subject. Hypocrisy is the prime charge that is always brought against us. The Germans are called brutal, the Spanish cruel, the Americans superficial, and so on; but we are perfide Albion, the island of hypocrites, the people who have built up an Empire with a Bible in one hand, a pistol in the other and financial concessions in both pockets. Is the charge true I think it is; but what we mean by hypocrisy Do we mean conscious deceit Well, the English are comparatively guiltless of this; they have little of the Renaissance villain about them. Do we mean unconscious deceit Muddle-headedness Of this I believe them to be guilty. When an Englishman has been led into a course of wrong action, he has nearly always begun by muddling himself. A public-school education does not make for mental clearness, and he possesses to a very high degree the power of confusing his own mind. How does it work in the domain of conductJane Austen may seem an odd authority to cite, but Jane Austen has, within her limits, a marvelous insight into theEnglish mind. Her range is limited, her characters never attempt any of the more scarlet sins. But she has a merciless eye for questions of conduct, and the classical example of two English people muddling themselves before they embark upon a wrong course of action is to be found in the opening chapters of Sense and Sensibility. Old Mr. Dashwood has just died. He has been twice married. By his first marriage he has a son, John; by his second marriage three daughters. The son is well off; the young ladies and their mother -- for Mr. Dashwood's second wife survives him -- are badly off. He has called his son to his death-bed and has solemnly adjured him to provide for the second family. Much moved, the young man promises, and mentally decides to give each of his sisters a thousand pounds: and then the comedy begins. For he announces his generous intention to his wife, and Mrs. John Dashwood by no means approves of depriving their own little boy of so large a sum. The thousand pounds are accordingly reduced to five hundred. But even this seems rather much. Might not an annuity to the stepmother be less of a wrench Yes -- but though less of a wrench it might be more of a drain, for "she is very stout and healthy, and scarcely forty." An occasional present of fifty pounds will be better, "and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise tomy father." Or, better still, an occasional present of fish. And in the end nothing is done, nothing; the four impecunious ladies are not even helped in the moving of their furniture. Well, are the John Dashwoods hypocrites It depends upon our definition of hypocrisy. The young man could not see his evil impulses as they gathered force and gained on him. And even his wife, though a worse character, is also self-deceived. She reflects that old Mr. Dashwood may have been out of his mind at his death. She thinks of her own little boy -- and surely a mother ought to think of her own child. She has muddled herself so completely that in one sentence she can refuse the ladies the income that would enable them to keep a carriage and in the next can say that they will not be keeping a carriage and so will have no expenses. No doubt men and women in other lands can muddle themselves, too, yet the state of mind of Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood seems to me typical of England. They are slow -- they take time even to do wrong; whereas people in other lands do wrong quickly.There are national faults as there are national diseases, and perhaps one can draw a parallel between them. It has always impressed me that the national diseases of England should be cancer and consumption -- slow, insidious, pretending to besomething else; while the diseases proper to the South should be cholera and plague, which strike at a man when he is perfectly well and may leave him a corpse by evening. Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood are moral consumptives. They collapse gradually without realizing what the disease is. There is nothing dramatic or violent about their sin. You cannot call them villains.Here is the place to glance at some of the other charges that have been brought against the English as a nation. They have, for instance, been accused of treachery, cruelty, and fanaticism, In these charges I have never been able to see the least point, because treachery and cruelty are conscious sins. The man knows he is doing wrong, and does it deliberately, like Tartuffe or Iago. He betrays his friend because he wishes to. He tortures his prisoners because he enjoys seeing the blood flow. He worships the Devil because he prefers evil to good. From villainies such as these the average Englishman is free. His character, which prevents his rising to certain heights, also prevents him from sinking to these depths. Because he doesn't produce mystics he doesn't produce villains either; he gives the world no prophets, but no anarchists, no fanatics--religious or political.Of course there are cruel and treacherous people in England -- one has only to look at the police courts -- and examples of public infamy can be found, such as the Amritsar massacre. But one does not look at the police courts or the military mind to find the soul of any nation; and the more English people one meets the more convinced one becomes that the charges as a whole are untrue. Yet foreign critics often make them. Why Partly because they are annoyed with certain genuine defects in the English character, and in their irritation throw in cruelty in order to make the problem simpler. Moral indignation is always agreeable, but nearly always misplaced. It is indulged in both by the English and by the critics of the English. They all find it great fun. The drawback is that while they are amusing themselves the world becomes neither wiser nor better.The main point of these notes is that the English character is incomplete. No national character is complete. We have to look for some qualities in one part of the world and others in another. But the English character is incomplete in a way that is particularly annoying to the foreign observer. It has a bad surface -- self complacent, unsympathetic, and reserved. There is plenty of emotion further down, but it nevergets used. There is plenty of brain power, but it is more often used to confirm prejudices than to dispel them. With such an equipment the Englishman cannot be popular. Only I would repeat: there is little vice in him and no real coldness. It is the machinery that is wrong.I hope and believe myself that in the next twenty years we shall see a great change, and that the national character will alter into something that is less unique but more lovable. The supremacy of the middle classes is probably ending. What new element the working classes will introduce one cannot say, but at all events they will not have been educated at public schools. And whether these notes praise or blame the English character -- that is only incidental. They are the notes of a student who is trying to get at the truth and would value the assistance of others. I believe myself that the truth is great and that it shall prevail. I have no faith in official caution and reticence. The cats are all out of their bags, and diplomacy cannot recall them. The nations must understand one another and quickly; and without the interposition of their governments, for the shrinkage of the globe is throwing them into one another's arms. To that understanding these notes are a feeble contribution -- notes on the English character as it has strucka novelist.。
现代大学英语精读6lesson 10 Notes on the English Character
Saint George
St George is the
patron saint of England and among the most famous of Christian figures. Presented in an armor killing the dragon.
Saint George
John Bull
first appears as a
character in a series of satires by John Arbuthnot (1667-1735). He satired Whig policy (1712) and introduced "John Bull" as the typical Englishman -- "an honest plain-dealing fellow, choleric, bold, and of a very inconstant temper"
rest on
Rest on/upon: (1) to depend on or be
based on sth. 依赖，取决于，以… 为依据。 E.g. Success in management ultimately rests on good judgement. (2) eyes rest on …..目光落在… Rest with: sb. is responsible for sth. 有（某 人 ）负责。 E.g. The final decision rests with the President.
Sound
(4) in good condition E.g. The bodywork is sound but the engine needs replacing. (5) physically and mentally healthy. E.g. as sound as a bell.十分健康的。 a sound mind.心智健全的。
课文 notes on the english character 英国人的性格特点 译文
英国人的性格特点E·M·福斯特1.首先，我最好和盘托出并且点明我的观点，从根本上来说，英国人的性格特点是中产阶级的性格特点。
此观点拥有详实的历史渊源，因为自18世纪末起中产阶级就成为了英国社会的主导阶级。
中产阶级凭借工业革命发家，凭借1832年的《改革法案》掌权，他们与大英帝国的崛起和构成休戚相关，他们也是19世纪文学的缔造者。
稳重、谨慎、正直、高效、缺乏想像力、虚伪是每个国家中产阶级的特点，然而在英国，上述特点也是全体英国人的特点，因为只有英国的中产阶级掌权长达150年。
拿破仑无礼地称我们为“店老板民族”。
而我们更喜欢称自己为“伟大的商业民族99后者听起来更有尊严，但是二者在本质上是相同的。
当然，英国社会还包括其他阶级，贵族阶级与贫苦阶级。
然而，批评家的眼睛只盯着中产阶级，正如他们只盯着俄国的贫苦阶级与日本的贵族阶级一样。
俄国的典型形象是农民和工人，日本的典型形象是武士，英国的典型形象是布尔先生，他头戴高顶大礼帽，身穿合体的衣服，挺着大肚皮，数着银行的大笔存款。
圣·乔治也许会蹦蹦跳跳地举起标语，发表政治演说，而约翰·布尔则会去送货。
如果基博的观点是正确的，甚至圣·乔治也曾戴上高顶大礼帽，他是一位军火承包商，并且供应质量低劣的熏肉。
最终的结果都是一样的。
2.其次，正如中产阶级是英国的核心一样，公学制度是中产阶级的核心。
这种超乎寻常的体制具有地域性，它还没有扩展到英伦三岛。
爱尔兰和苏格兰都不存在这种体制(这两个国家不在我的调查之列)，尽管这样有利于其他优秀体制的出现，比如仅限于美国某些学校所采用的阿里加体制，因为它产生于安格鲁一萨克逊中产阶级，而且只能在上述阶级中实行。
英国公学制度比充满社会与精神复杂性的大学更充分地体现了中产阶级的特性。
学生寄宿、必修运动项目、高年级同学在差使低年级同学为自己办事时必须对其行为负责，以及高度重视身材与团队精神是英国公学制度的四大特点，正是这些特点使公学的学生具有超乎寻常的影响力。
归纳刘庆雪Notes on English Character.ppt
• Howards End(1910)
• Forster didn’t publish any new novel until
• A Passage to India (1924) came into being.
优选
9
Works of E. M. Forster
优选
10
A Room with a View(1908)
• How does the author succeed in analyzing his ideas to his readers?
优选
3
• E. M. Forster was born on New Year’s Day 1879 in London and died on June 7, 1970.
优选
5
• The Bloomsbury group got its name after the bohemian part of London called Bloomsbury. The group consisted of a group of intellectual Englishmen, who with their liberal sight of the society and their beliefs in the importance of beauty and friendship formed a united front criticizing the Victorian England during the early decades of the 20th century and had their golden era during the 1920s. Most of the group’s members had a common past from Trinity College三一学院 in Cambridge, and were influenced by both Bertrand Russell and the philosopher G.E. Moore.
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英国人的性格特点E·M·福斯特1.首先，我最好和盘托出并且点明我的观点，从根本上来说，英国人的性格特点是中产阶级的性格特点。
此观点拥有详实的历史渊源，因为自18世纪末起中产阶级就成为了英国社会的主导阶级。
中产阶级凭借工业革命发家，凭借1832年的《改革法案》掌权，他们与大英帝国的崛起和构成休戚相关，他们也是19世纪文学的缔造者。
稳重、谨慎、正直、高效、缺乏想像力、虚伪是每个国家中产阶级的特点，然而在英国，上述特点也是全体英国人的特点，因为只有英国的中产阶级掌权长达150年。
拿破仑无礼地称我们为“店老板民族”。
而我们更喜欢称自己为“伟大的商业民族99后者听起来更有尊严，但是二者在本质上是相同的。
当然，英国社会还包括其他阶级，贵族阶级与贫苦阶级。
然而，批评家的眼睛只盯着中产阶级，正如他们只盯着俄国的贫苦阶级与日本的贵族阶级一样。
俄国的典型形象是农民和工人，日本的典型形象是武士，英国的典型形象是布尔先生，他头戴高顶大礼帽，身穿合体的衣服，挺着大肚皮，数着银行的大笔存款。
圣·乔治也许会蹦蹦跳跳地举起标语，发表政治演说，而约翰·布尔则会去送货。
如果基博的观点是正确的，甚至圣·乔治也曾戴上高顶大礼帽，他是一位军火承包商，并且供应质量低劣的熏肉。
最终的结果都是一样的。
2.其次，正如中产阶级是英国的核心一样，公学制度是中产阶级的核心。
这种超乎寻常的体制具有地域性，它还没有扩展到英伦三岛。
爱尔兰和苏格兰都不存在这种体制(这两个国家不在我的调查之列)，尽管这样有利于其他优秀体制的出现，比如仅限于美国某些学校所采用的阿里加体制，因为它产生于安格鲁一萨克逊中产阶级，而且只能在上述阶级中实行。
英国公学制度比充满社会与精神复杂性的大学更充分地体现了中产阶级的特性。
学生寄宿、必修运动项目、高年级同学在差使低年级同学为自己办事时必须对其行为负责，以及高度重视身材与团队精神是英国公学制度的四大特点，正是这些特点使公学的学生具有超乎寻常的影响力。
3.毕业后，男生们要么立刻开始工作、参军、从商或者移民，要么进入大学深造，经过三至四年的学习后从事律师、医生、公务员、教师或记者等职业。
(如果他们无缘体力工人或艺术家)在各个行业中，他们是否接受过良好的教育将对他们产生影响。
学校的回忆也会影响他们。
许多人都把在学校的日子视为人生中最快乐的时光。
他们带着遗憾的心情怀念那段金色时光。
那时生活虽然艰苦，但还不算复杂，那时他们一起学习、一起游戏、一起思考，如果说他们思考的话。
他们受到的教导告诉他们，学校是个微型世界。
他们相信，一个人如果不爱自己的学校，那他就不可能爱自己的国家。
而且他们通过加入“老朋友”社团尽量使那段岁月延长，事实上他们中某些人一生都没有离开这个社团。
他们认为学校万事好。
他们崇拜学校并引用这样的评论来赞誉学校，“打赢滑铁卢战役的基础是在伊顿公学的球场上奠定的。
”他们并不在乎这句评论在历史上是不适用的，也不在乎它并不是惠灵顿公爵发表的，而且惠灵顿公爵是一位爱尔兰人。
他们反复引用这句评论，因为它表达了他们的情感，他们认为，即使惠灵顿公爵没有这样说，他也应该这样说，即使他不是英国人，他也应该是英国人。
他们所生活的社会并不是完全由公学学生或安格鲁一萨克逊人组成的，而是由形形色色的人组成的，对于这个社会中的财富与难以捉摸的东西，他们完全摸不着头脑。
他们进入社会时，体魄健美，智力一般，却感情匮乏。
而恰恰就是感情匮乏使英国人在国外遇到了许多困难。
感情匮乏并不是冷酷无情。
这一差别相当重要，是我下一个论点的基础。
4.并不是英国人没有感情，而是英国人害怕有感情。
在公学中他们已被教导感情是有害的。
他们不应该表现出大喜大悲，甚至在谈话时不应该把嘴巴张得过大，否则他们的烟斗会从口中掉落。
他们必须掩饰自己的情绪，或者仅在特殊场合才可以表达自己的感情。
5.从前(这是一件秩事)，我与一位印度朋友到欧洲度假，为期一周。
我们玩得很愉快，当一周结束时我们都感到十分难过。
然而在分别时我们的行为却是截然相反的。
我的朋友完全陷入了绝望。
他认为假期结束了，所有的幸福也将随之而去，而且痛苦的日子将一直持续至世界末日。
他将伤心表达到了，极点，到了无以言表的程度。
然而在我身上则表现出强烈的英国人特征。
我想到我们可以在一至两个月以后再次见面，如果我们在此期间有话要说，可以通信，而且在这种情况下我认为这不值得大惊小怪。
这并不是生离死别。
“振作起来，”我说，“振作起来。
”他拒绝振作，于是我任由他陷入郁闷。
6.这件事的结尾更说明问题。
因为当我们于次月见面时，我们的谈话对了解英国人的性格大有裨益。
一开始我便指责朋友。
我告诉他不应该在这种小事上牵动并体现出这么多感情，这并不妥当。
“妥当”这个字眼儿激怒了他。
“什么?”他大声说道，“你是不是像分配土豆一样分配你的感情?”我不喜欢土豆这个比喻，但是沉思片刻后我说，“是的，我是这样，而且我认为应该这样。
小事需要的感情少，大事需要的感情多。
我希望我的感情分配得当。
我也许是像分配土豆一样分配感情，但是要胜过你像桶里的水一样乱溅。
”他不喜欢水桶这个比喻。
“如果你是这样想的，那么我们绝交，”他喊道，然后离开了房间，而后又立刻转回来，补充说道，“不——但是你对于感情的整个态度是错的。
感情与妥当无关。
感情只在于是否真诚。
我碰巧是个感情丰富的人，于是我流露我的感情。
你是否应该感情丰富这并不重要。
”7.这些话给我留下了深刻印象。
然而我不能同意你的看法，并且要说明我与你一样重视感情，只是表达的方式不同而已。
如果我在小事上随意挥洒感情，我害怕在大事上无感情可施，比如破产、人生危机这样的大事。
注意“破产”一词，我是作为慎重的中产阶级一员讲这番话的，而且我们总惦记着欠债就一定要偿还。
然而我的朋友是从东方人的角度出发的，而且东方人背后的传统不是中产阶级的谨慎而是皇帝般的慷慨大方与丰富多彩。
东方人认为自己的财富是取之不尽、用之不竭的，正如约翰·布尔认为他的财富是无穷无尽的。
对于物质资源，东方人的态度显然是不明智的。
金钱并不是无穷尽的。
如果我们花费或让出我们全部的金钱，我们便身无分文，而且必须承担后果，这经常是令人不悦的。
但是，就精神财富而言，东方人也许是对的。
感情或许是取之不尽、用之不竭的。
我们表达感情越是充分，你所要表达的感情就越丰富。
真爱不同于黄金和泥土分享不会使之减少……雪莱写道。
无论怎样，雪莱相信精神财富是无穷无尽的，他相信我们可以大量地、充满激情地在各种场合表达我们的情感，而且我们无论怎样表现悲哀和欢乐都不过分。
8.我已通过上面的轶事描绘出一个典型的英国人了。
现在我将从这个眩晕又不熟悉的高度降下来，继续评论英国人的性格特点，关于英国人迟钝的特点。
英国人表面上冷漠而且无感情，因为他们确实迟钝。
每当有事发生，英国人会迅速弄清楚事情的来龙去脉，但是他们需要一段时间才能在感情上做出反应。
从前一辆马车正驶过阿尔卑斯山，车上坐着英国人和法国人。
拉车的马脱缰，马车在冲过桥时刮到了桥上的石头，马车来回摇晃，险些跌进桥下的沟壑。
法国人极度恐惧，他们肆意尖叫，慌张地挥动双臂胡乱冲撞。
而英国人则相当镇静地坐着。
一小时后，马车停在一家小旅馆前换马，此时情形发生了逆转。
法国人完全忘却了危险，快乐地闲谈着，而此时英国人则刚刚感受到危险，其中一个人还因患了精神分裂而必须卧床休息。
由此可见，两个民族在身体上存在明显差异，正是这一差异对其性格特点产生了重大影响。
法国人的反应迅速及时，而英国人则需要过一段时间才能做出反应。
英国人迟钝而又实际。
英国人的本能制止他们在马车中摇来摆去，因为如果他们这样做，就更容易翻车。
英国人注意的是我们应该一再注意的事实。
当灾难来临时，英国人的本能是去做最先能做的事，并且尽量推迟感情的到来。
因此英国人在紧急情况下异常镇静。
无疑他们是勇敢的，这一点毋庸置疑，但是勇敢的性情归功于精神功能，而英国人的神经系统是为身体上的紧急情况而准备的。
英国人行动迅捷，感觉迟缓。
二者的结合的确有用，具备这一结合的人多半都很勇敢。
动作结束时，英国人才会有感觉。
9.这里有一个更重要的结论——最重要的一点。
如果英国人天性冷漠，他们如何能够创造出伟大的文学，尤其是诗体文学?就散文而言，英国文学不是一流的，是诗使英国文学与希腊、波斯或法国文学齐名。
然而英国文学却被视为非诗体文学。
原因何在?拥有伊丽莎白体戏剧和湖畔诗人的民族绝不是一个冷漠、无诗情画意的民族。
冰不能生火。
由于文学总是以民族特征为基础，因此，英国特性中肯定隐藏着激情的源泉，这样才会创造出我们读到的火一般的文学作品。
我们常常在周围熟悉的人身上寻找热情的同情心、浪漫、想像力，但往往无功而返。
然而，这些品质肯定存在于英国整体民族之中，否则我们不可能有如此热情奔放的英国国歌。
只是一颗有待发展的心，而不是一颗冷酷的心。
10.问题在于英国人的性格并不容易理解。
英国人的性格彰显着简约的气质，它标榜自己简明，然而我们越探究它，遇到的问题就越多。
人们往往认为东方是神秘的，其实西方也是神秘的。
乍一看东西方都不会展现自身的本质。
我们知道从远处看海是什么样子，颜色单一，水面平平，似乎里面不可能有鱼类动物生存。
但是，果我们沿船舷向海底望去，我们会看到十几种颜色，海水一层深似一层，鱼儿在里面游来游去。
大海犹如英国人的性格特点——看似波澜不兴，实则不然。
大海的最深处和各种各样的颜色就像英国的浪漫主义和敏感性。
我们没料到能在英国人的特性中找到这些特点，但它们确实存在。
现在继续我的比喻，鱼是英国人的感情，总想游到水面，只是不知道如何才能实现。
多数情况下我们看到它们在深处游动，形体扭曲，模糊不清。
有时它们成功地游到水面，我们便会欢呼，“哇，英国人是有感情的!他们的确会感受!”偶尔我们会看到那美丽的文鳐鱼完全跃出海面，跳到空中，沐浴在阳光下。
英国文学如同一条文鳐鱼。
它表明，在表层下面，在人们不易注意到的地方，生命一天天地延续着，同时它也证明在咸咸的、不适于居住的海水中存在着美丽和情感。
11.现在让我们回到陆地。
我们将以英国人对于批评的态度为起点。
英国人不会被批评惹恼。
他们聆听，也许根本没听，一笑了之，并说，“噢，那家伙在嫉妒”，“噢，我已经适应了萧伯纳似的老把戏，它们伤害不到我。
”英国人从来不去想那人可能有点嫉妒但他批评得对，不会认真考虑别人的批评并从中受益。
英国人从不认为自己还需要进步，改进只是说说而已，他们极度自满。
东方和欧洲的其他国家总是因自身不够完美而不安。
因此，他们憎恶批评。
批评伤害了他们，他们迅速而又愤怒的回答常常掩饰了，他们追求进步的决心。
而英国人却不这样。
他们根本没有不安的感觉。
让批评家们去叫嚣吧，英国人认为自己在遇到困难时所采取的“宽容的幽默态度”并不是真正的幽默，因为幽默受到了傻笑和哄堂大笑的限制。