Sometimes one is left in doubt from whence the check and limit to
Germanism in us proceeds, whether from a Celtic source or from a
Norman source. Of the true steady-going German nature the bane is,
as I remarked, flat commonness; there seems no end to its capacity
for platitude; it has neither the quick perception of the Celt to
save it from platitude, nor the strenuousness of the Norman; it is
only raised gradually out of it by science, but it jogs through
almost interminable platitudes first. The English nature is not
raised to science, but something in us, whether Celtic or Norman,
seems to set a bound to our advance in platitude, to make us either
shy of platitude, or impatient of it. I open an English reading-book
for children, and I find these two characteristic stories in it, one
of them of English growth, the other of German. Take the English
story first:-
'A little boy accompanied his elder sister while she busied herself
with the labours of the farm, asking questions at every step, and
learning the lessons of life without being aware of it.
'"Why, dear Jane," he said, "do you scatter good grain on the ground;
would it not be better to make good bread of it than to throw it to
the greedy chickens?"
'"In time," replied Jane, "the chickens will grow big, and each of
them will fetch money at the market.
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