Microagression?

The following is from a biography of Henry Cabot Lodge, written by William Lawrence, the Bishop of Massachusetts in 1925. This is an interesting composition of micro if not nano bias in that old colony then, and perhaps it still lingers. It is truly worth the read, for it tells how people thought then and not what biographers try to make us think today. 

In recalling and reading the story of these years, we are compelled to note the contrasts and antagonisms in the character, point of view, and action of President Wilson and Senator Lodge. It is commonly said that they were personally and persistently antagonistic to each other; that their words and actions were often guided by jealousy, ambition, or hate. Such an estimate is, I believe, unworthy of either man, standing as they did in positions of high responsibility for their country. We must look farther afield for our diagnosis of these apparent antipathies, back a hundred, even thousands of years, into race temperament and national associations. Henry Cabot Lodge was of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, with a dash of Norman blood through the Cabots. His forbears had been in this country, in Massachusetts, for from over one hundred to over two hundred and fifty years. They were citizens in the English Colony days; active in the Revolution; familiar with the beginnings and upbuilding of the Nation. They lived, breathed, and gloried in the national traditions. They had the characteristics of the English: a sense of duty and high ideals tempered in practical action by common- sense. They mingled their judgments with those of others and supported the common result. They valued clear and exact statement, knowing that vagueness is the mother of misunderstandings and controversy. As public servants their personal opinions were subject to the limitations of the duties of their office. Senator Lodge was the embodiment of Anglo-Saxon character. Thomas Woodrow Wilson was, on the Wilson side, Irish — Scotch-Irish; on the Woodrow side, Scotch: he was thus predominantly if not wholly Celt. Both peoples lived for centuries in the North apart from the larger movements of history. In the Irish blood was the light vein of humor, the idealism, and imagination which often makes men unpractical and which emphasizes the personal element in all transactions.In the Scotch was the dour temperament born of that dour clime. Theirs was an isolate and at times an uncanny and melancholy temper. No forbear of Woodrow Wilson was in this country until after the Revolution was over, Washington dead, and the Nation fully established. None of them had lived in the traditions of English freedom or the forming years of this country.They were all Presbyterians, Calvinists: men and women who, when they were convinced of their mission, believed them-selves called of God; and no force of man or devil could turn them. Woodrow Wilson’s father, his mother’s father, and his wife’s father were Presbyterian ministers. They were preachers, prophets, idealists: some of them had great power of expression and of moving people to faith in the Bible as they understood it. They dealt in noble thoughts and eloquent phrases which do not usually accompany exactness of expression and definite language. A few were educators and writers. President Wilson was the embodiment of the Celtic character. Has history ever recorded an instance when the Anglo-Saxon, the true Englishman, and the Scotch-Irish Presbyterian have, as the Psalmist sings, ‘Taken sweet counsel together, or have walked, even in the House of God, as friends’? We can now grasp something of the reason, of the tragedy, and of the humor.