Continued Reading

It's probably not a good sign for improved reading habits that I am still slogging my way through David Cannadine's The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy. I could skim through it rather quickly. Certainly, I don't recognize one fourth of the names of individuals and families he mentions to document his various points, but I find the overall story not only fascinating, but painfully instructive. Mutatis mutandis, it's the story of every age.

The main point to be taken away from Cannadine's story is that over a period of slightly more than half a century, from about 1885 through the beginning of World War II, a way of life was completely transformed, not only for those most affected by the change, but for an entire nation. Of course, this would have been true almost anywhere, but the stark changes that Cannadine documents among the British landed aristocrats is emblematic. What is more, many of the more perceptive among them were quite aware of the passing of an era.

As I've grown older, I've had a similar sense of profound and fundamental changes, of old ways disappearing and new ways emerging, just as I suspect has everyone who has paid attention. But that is only part of the story. The other part is the way that many of the trappings, habits, and fashions associated with an earlier way of life linger on for those who come after the passing of an era. Anyone who watches the BBC exports on American television, especially PBS offerings such as Mystery and Masterpiece Theatre, will know what I'm referring to. The British entertainment industry has turned their aristocratic past into an American obsession, much as they've turned their island into a theme park celebrating a previous era of aristocracy and great country houses.

I don't mean to condemn any of this. In fact, that is why I find Cannadine's book so fascinating. He documents something I've only observed piecemeal. Much that I and others find admirable in the British national character can be traced to those very aristocratic ideals learned in the public schools and their two ancient universities; ideals which, like many American ideals, more honored than practiced, were already historical memories by the time they were becoming the subject of lore and literature. And foremost among them, perhaps even more than noblesse oblige, was the notion of amateurism: in politics, government, warfare, and (above all) in sports.

I am especially attracted to that particular ideal because I like to trace it back to the Renaissance concept of "recklessness" or what Castiglione, in his Book of the Courtier, called sprezzatura. Among classical heroes it was considered essential to call attention to one's prowess. Recall the way that Achilles and every other Homeric hero claims to be the greatest among the Achaeans, and is prepared to demonstrate that fact to all comers. In a similar fashion, contemporary athletes, especially Americans, are wont to thump themselves on their chests and call attention to their achievements on the field or court, and this is true now even on the tennis court, once the venue of gentlemen and ladies.

The Renaissance hero, and later the Victorian gentleman, took a different approach, adopting an air of nonchalance, as if to suggest that their achievements had been the result of very little expense of effort. This was the "never let them see you sweat" school of performance. The ideal was to achieve the appearance of effortlessness. As Bum Phillips supposedly told his players when they reached the end zone and scored a touchdown: "act like you been there before." I would not want to bring back the world of class privilege and discrimination that once was also the hallmark of aristocratic life, but I find something appealing in that notion of nonchalance and apparent effortless achievement.