The Art Of Manliness
It’s been fascinating for us to spend some time recently browsing a major US website – The Art of Manliness.
This red-blooded site, designed to celebrate all that is manly (as opposed to macho) in US males, is hugely popular in the States as well as enjoying a world-wide following. Composed of a series of articles, advice and biogs, it certainly gives food for thought about what it is that makes a model man.
And it’s been a pleasure to contribute a recent guest post about our very own model of Lake District manhood, our namesake – Millican Dalton.
We first encountered the Manliness site through its terrific post about Matthew Henson, the black arctic explorer who was a key companion to Robert Edwin Peary. Peary was the white explorer whose name has come down to us as the first to set foot on the northernmost tip of the world in 1909.
Henson was a trusted and gifted partner to Peary on many expeditions and yet systematically uncredited on every occasion. White history is only now fully recognising what a critical role Henson played in Peary’s expeditions and how falsely he has been sidelined for many decades.
"Commander Peary and Matthew Henson at the North Pole" by Austin Mecklem
Photo courtesy of dbking
Significantly, Henson is still remembered even today by the Inuit of Greenland. They tell stories of him and sing of ‘Mahripaluq’ (‘Matt, the Kind One”). For the truth is that while Peary was condescending towards the Inuit people, Henson took them to his heart. Henson wrote:
“Many and many a time, for periods covering more than twelve months, I have been to all intents an Esquimo, with Esquimos for companions, speaking their language, dressing in their clothing, living in the same kind of dens, eating the same food, enjoying their pleasures, and frequently sharing their griefs. I have come to love these people. I know every man, woman, and child in their tribe. They are my friends and they regard me as theirs”.
Henson’s story and our time on this website set us musing about the art of manliness, UK-style. The truth is that we don’t tend to celebrate the red-blooded Englishman in the same way as our American cousins. British derring-do has been a-plenty in the past but tends to be celebrated in more understated ways in our culture. Think of the stiff upper lip corridors of The Royal Geographic Society.
It’s probably fair to say that, as a post-imperial country, we’ve also become somewhat embarrassed by our Victorian forbears. Too often their expeditions and adventures were the other side of the coin from imperial looting and pillaging. We find it hard to separate the two activities now and to recognise what was admirable about certain individuals, however historically blinkered their attitudes to power, class and race.
Having said that, look at current audience and media interest in Bear Grylls, and you conclude that a fascination with the adventuring Englishman persists.
It’s also fair to say that in contrast to American or Aussie models of manliness, we value a more offbeat, humorous angle in their British counterparts.
Millican Dalton wasn’t a recluse but he was certainly an eccentric. That is, he found his true nature lay somewhat wide of the agreed centre of society and chose to live on the margins, in his own pioneering way, instead.
He combined quirky humour, adventuring zeal, homespun wisdom and political polemic in equal amounts. And in contrast to Matthew Henson, he hardly looked the model of manliness. With his frayed shorts, skinny legs and trailing beard, he appeared more like an emaciated Robinson Crusoe.
Which is probably why we’ve taken him to our hearts here in Cumbria. Because of his mix of contradictions. Well-educated and well-read but living in a cave. Classic adventurer but addicted to Woodbines. Of Quaker lineage with strong pacifist views that he frequently communicated in letters to Winston Churchill. Yet also overgrown child, delighting in romantic tales of boyhood and still shinning up trees like a reckless schoolboy.
We like our British heroes with this mix of plucky spirit and confounding eccentricity. With the explorer’s spirit and some self-mocking humour to boot.
So let’s continue to hold these kinds of heroes to our heart. But let’s not forget to enjoy their humour, failings and, frequently, political incorrectness. You can’t always have a man who’s a model in every aspect of his life.
This red-blooded site, designed to celebrate all that is manly (as opposed to macho) in US males, is hugely popular in the States as well as enjoying a world-wide following. Composed of a series of articles, advice and biogs, it certainly gives food for thought about what it is that makes a model man.
And it’s been a pleasure to contribute a recent guest post about our very own model of Lake District manhood, our namesake – Millican Dalton.
We first encountered the Manliness site through its terrific post about Matthew Henson, the black arctic explorer who was a key companion to Robert Edwin Peary. Peary was the white explorer whose name has come down to us as the first to set foot on the northernmost tip of the world in 1909.
Henson was a trusted and gifted partner to Peary on many expeditions and yet systematically uncredited on every occasion. White history is only now fully recognising what a critical role Henson played in Peary’s expeditions and how falsely he has been sidelined for many decades.
"Commander Peary and Matthew Henson at the North Pole" by Austin Mecklem
Photo courtesy of dbking
Significantly, Henson is still remembered even today by the Inuit of Greenland. They tell stories of him and sing of ‘Mahripaluq’ (‘Matt, the Kind One”). For the truth is that while Peary was condescending towards the Inuit people, Henson took them to his heart. Henson wrote:
“Many and many a time, for periods covering more than twelve months, I have been to all intents an Esquimo, with Esquimos for companions, speaking their language, dressing in their clothing, living in the same kind of dens, eating the same food, enjoying their pleasures, and frequently sharing their griefs. I have come to love these people. I know every man, woman, and child in their tribe. They are my friends and they regard me as theirs”.
Henson’s story and our time on this website set us musing about the art of manliness, UK-style. The truth is that we don’t tend to celebrate the red-blooded Englishman in the same way as our American cousins. British derring-do has been a-plenty in the past but tends to be celebrated in more understated ways in our culture. Think of the stiff upper lip corridors of The Royal Geographic Society.
It’s probably fair to say that, as a post-imperial country, we’ve also become somewhat embarrassed by our Victorian forbears. Too often their expeditions and adventures were the other side of the coin from imperial looting and pillaging. We find it hard to separate the two activities now and to recognise what was admirable about certain individuals, however historically blinkered their attitudes to power, class and race.
Having said that, look at current audience and media interest in Bear Grylls, and you conclude that a fascination with the adventuring Englishman persists.
It’s also fair to say that in contrast to American or Aussie models of manliness, we value a more offbeat, humorous angle in their British counterparts.
Millican Dalton wasn’t a recluse but he was certainly an eccentric. That is, he found his true nature lay somewhat wide of the agreed centre of society and chose to live on the margins, in his own pioneering way, instead.
He combined quirky humour, adventuring zeal, homespun wisdom and political polemic in equal amounts. And in contrast to Matthew Henson, he hardly looked the model of manliness. With his frayed shorts, skinny legs and trailing beard, he appeared more like an emaciated Robinson Crusoe.
Which is probably why we’ve taken him to our hearts here in Cumbria. Because of his mix of contradictions. Well-educated and well-read but living in a cave. Classic adventurer but addicted to Woodbines. Of Quaker lineage with strong pacifist views that he frequently communicated in letters to Winston Churchill. Yet also overgrown child, delighting in romantic tales of boyhood and still shinning up trees like a reckless schoolboy.
We like our British heroes with this mix of plucky spirit and confounding eccentricity. With the explorer’s spirit and some self-mocking humour to boot.
So let’s continue to hold these kinds of heroes to our heart. But let’s not forget to enjoy their humour, failings and, frequently, political incorrectness. You can’t always have a man who’s a model in every aspect of his life.
posted by jorrit at
15:23
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