ion and one that I am urging be reinstated in our discourse from which it has been for too long conspicuously absent. I am objecting to a sort of abstraction that I call "internationally accredited." Perhaps after all I should give an example-chosen, I assure you, virtually at random: We see in this rehearsal of "Foucault" that contemporary criticism cherishes the displacement both of dialectics by diacritics and of totalized organic representations of history by comprehensive graphs of affiliated disciplines in the episteme.1 Reading such jaw-breaking propositions-and we all know how commonly they present themselves to us and our students (we have been hearing some of them at this conference)-we find ourselves echoing Ben Jonson when he objected to one of his contemporaries that he "writ no language." For such formulations cannot be said to be written in British English or in American English or in French but only in an ungainly jargon compounded out of all three. I may as well take the risk of giving offence and confess that I think such linguistic enormities became inevitable as soon as "the scholarly paper" and the scholarly "article" became established among us as literary genres distinct from the essay on the one hand and the lecture on the other. At any rate, you already see one way in which I would claim that patriotism, that admittedly assailable sentiment, can be an incentive for those of us who promulgate our findings in discursive English. It incites 1. William V. Spanos, Paul A. Bove, and Daniel O'Hara, intro. to Boundary 2 8 (Fall 1979): 3. This content downloaded from 207.46.13.12 on Thu, 12 May 2016 06:54:44 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms Critical Inquiry September 1982 us to recognize, through our way of handling our language, that the intellectual endeavour we are engaged in is continuous with that of Edmund Burke maybe or Jonathan Swift, or of Jonathan Edwards and John Adams. In that way it cuts us down to size, it cures us of cocky presumption. Interpretation pursued in this spirit is, no doubt, politically conservative; and I would not dispute the inference that literary studies, of the sort that I respect and try to practise, are of their own nature rather profoundly conservative-they have an inbuilt bias toward preserving, conserving, keeping in memory. This does not mean, of course, that they therefore recommend themselves to the political powers behind the status quo at any given time; on the contrary, since such powers often are, or like to think that they are, "progressive" or "innovative," the literary scholar's inbuilt proclivity toward dragging his feet is likely to irritate grant-awarding government agencies more than a little. More generally, "conservative" in the sense of "keeping in mind" has little or nothing to do with what the word means in the mouths of political journalists. The keeping in mind, or bringing back to mind, of principles and liberties long overlooked is just as likely to figure in their vocabulary as "liberal" or "radical." Patriotic feeling in a scholar, however, can fuel in him incentives of an altogether more momentous sort. I think of the philosopher George Berkeley when, still a student at Trinity College, Dublin, he confided to his Commonplace Book certain statements of Lockean epistemology and then declared: "We Irishmen cannot attain to these truths": There are men who say there are insensible extensions. There are others who say the fire is not hot. We Irishmen are apt to think something and nothing are near neighbours. The mathematicians think there are insensible lines. About them they harangue. We Irishmen can conceive no such lines. I publish this to see if others have the same ideas as we Irishmen.2 This declaration is remarkable, in fact astonishing, in several different ways: to begin with, that Irishness which Berkeley so confidently claimed would be disputed, if not explicitly denied him, by most of the marchers in Saint Patrick's Day parades in Boston or New York or (I suppose) Chicago; and, though Berkeley indeed was born on Irish soil and his family had resided in Ireland for two generations, his English cousins, 2. George Berkeley, quoted in Joseph Maunsell Hone and Mario M. Rossi, Bishop Berkeley: His Life, Writings, and Philosophy (London, 1931), p. 28. 31 This content downloaded from 207.46.13.12 on Thu, 12 May 2016 06:54:44 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms Poet: Patriot: Interpreter the senior branch of the family, as the philosopher well knew, still occupied their seat in Berkeley, Gloucestershire-from which English place the family indeed appears to have derived its name. This shows that for certain people at certain times in certain places the patria is not anything they are simply stuck with by an accident of birth. It may be negotiable and a matter of conscious or unconscious choice on the part of the individual. By the same token, we may declare our allegiance to two patrias at the same time. No one apparently asks the marchers in Saint Patrick's Day parades to decide between a patria that is an as yet unconsummated Republic of All Ireland and another patria that is the United States of America. Thus we allow people to declare in one sentence "We Welsh" or "We Irish" or "We Scots" or "We English" and in the next sentence without fear of contradiction (or without much fear of it) "We British"; and in the same way "We Virginians" is not held to be at odds with "We Americans." All the same, as to an American audience the case of the Virginians may bring home very poignantly, there can arise historical situations in which the dual allegiance cannot be maintained, in which one is forced to choose one patria over the other. That choice cannot be other than a political choice; and if one is an artist or a scholar, it is mere casuistry to say that the decision is made in one's capacity as a citizen and not in one's professional capacity. The case of Berkeley is very instructive in this respect: it was only when modern scholars of Berkeley like A. A. Luce and T. E. Jessop pondered this entry in his Commonplace Book (along with other evidence to be sure) that they envisaged the possibility that Berkeley, so far from extending and driving deeper the furrow that John Locke had ploughed (which was the view held of Berkeley's epistemology through two centuries), was in fact promoting a radical alternative to Locke-as it were, Irish common sense as against English common sense. And the modern revolution in the understanding of Berkeley derives from that perception: in other words, it was as a philosopher rather than as a citizen that Berkeley proudly declared himself an Irishman. And while no one would want to maintain that Berkeley's perception of himself as Irish (distinctively non-English) originated his critique of Locke, still all the evidence is that this perception strengthened his critique and heartened him in formulating it and pushing it through-there was, he felt, a consensus that he could appeal to, in support of it. If patriotism can thus be seen as an incentive or as an instigation even in such a recondite science as epistemology, how much more readily can it be seen to perform such functions in other studies more immediately or inextricably bound up with communal human life? I pass over instances that occur to me-for instance, the Victorian Jesuit, Father Hopkins, declaring (too shrilly for modern susceptibilities) that every good poem written by an Englishman was a blow struck for 32 Donald A. Davie This content downloaded from 207.46.13.12 on Thu, 12 May 2016 06:54:44 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms