OF DRAGONS
OF DRAGONS
PREFACE
I have been asked to explain the purpose of this study. I find a ridiculous difficulty in doing so, for it had none. My interest in dragons was aroused by some incidental paragraphs in Leslie Stephen’s The Playground of Europe. I determined to find out all that there was to be known about dragons: with the unfailing assistance of that great institution, the London Library, I made a fairly careful search; and, when I had exhausted my authorities (to whom I am greatly indebted), I set down with some pleasure the facts that had come under my notice. That is all.
In case it should be objected that no sane man could have done anything so elaborately purposeless, I will attempt a more plausible explanation—though the truth is exactly what I have said.
The first four sections give a fair account of the dragon as known to history: in ancient Greece, in early Christendom, and in modern Europe. The last two endeavour to explain how the dragon-story may have originated from the myths and customs of prehistoric Egypt, and how humanly foolish the whole thing is; and they close with the pious hope that the species may in time become extinct.
It will be objected that the dragon is already dead, as has been shown in the course of the study. It is true that the living, breathing, devouring dragon has passed away with Perseus and the gods of old; we have to-day only an occasional saga, such as the “Jabberwock,” a pale reflection of the full-blooded ancient tales, lacking many essential details and almost apologized for by its author; a herald’s act of piety, or the unreal enthusiasm of an æsthete vainly seeking de-sophistication. It is all a faint afterglow of the age of faith. And yet, in England at any rate, the dragon is not dead.
What are the chief characteristics of modern Englishmen—not the ornaments of society, nor artists, nor any other lovely ones, but these poor plain people who earn their daily bread, with or without the sweat of their brows, because they must; who make up nine-tenths of our population; who control our political destinies; and whom the Carlton Club delights to honour?
They are respectability, bigotry, and cant. There can be no doubt about this. The consequence is that the men have no character and the women no charm, and we rule over a quarter of the world with complete satisfaction to ourselves. These three together make up our modern dragon. Respectability is the deadliest, for it is a plausible substitute for better things; but it is a dead end, like innocence.