I do not for a moment pretend to think that
our national ideals are very exalted ones nowadays. I wish I could
believe it; but there is no sign of any particular interest in religion
or cultivation or art or literature or romance. We have a certain
patriotism, of a somewhat commercial type; we have a belief in our
honesty, not, I fear, wholly well-founded. We claim to be plain people
who speak our mind; which very often does not mean more than that we do
not take the trouble to be polite; we should all say that we valued
liberty, which means little more than that we resent interference, and
like to do things in our own way. But I do not think that we are at
present a noble-minded or an unselfish nation, though we are rich and
successful, and have the good humour that comes of wealth and success.
Peterborough is to me a parable of England; it stands for a certain
pride in antiquity, coupled with a good-natured contempt for the
religious spirit--for, though these cathedrals of ours are well cared
for and well-served, no one can say that they have any very deep
influence on national life. And it stands, too, for the thing that we
do believe in with all our hearts--trim, comfortable material
prosperity; a thing which bewilders a dreamer like myself, because it
seems to be the deliberate gift and leading of God to our country,
while all the time I long to believe that he is pointing us to a far
different hope, and a very much quieter and simpler ideal.
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