e baneful
lesson, that knowledge and energy die with youth. Once upon a time I met
an American who had returned from his first visit to Europe, and when
I asked what was the vividest impression he brought from thence, he
replied: "I was surprised to see an old man like the German Emperor
doing so much work." In our more youthful eyes the German Emperor has
but crossed the threshold of life. The years of his mature activity lie
before him, we believe, like an untrodden road. But for the American,
prematurely worn out by the weight of time and the stress of affairs,
William II. already hastens to his decline, and clings to the reins of
office with the febrile courage of an old man.

And all the while America is sublimely unconscious that the joys of
childhood are not hers. Though with the hypochondria of advancing years
she demands a doctor for her soul, she knows not from what disease she
suffers. She does not pray for a Medea to thrust her into a cauldron of
rejuvenescence. With a bluff optimism she declares that she is still the
youngest of the nations, and boasts that when she has grown up to the
height of her courage and activity she will make triumphant even her
bold experiment in democracy. Not upon her has the divine injunction
descended: [Greek phrase]. She who knows so much knows not herself. How
should she, when she is composed of so many and so diverse elements?
And lacking self-knowledge, she lacks humour. With the best will in the
world, she cannot see the things about her in a true proportion. The
blithe atmosphere, clear as crystal, sparkling as champagne, in which
she lives, persuades her to take a too serious and favourable view of
her own character. And let it be remembered that with her optimism she
still treasures the sentimentality of her Puritan ancestors. She is
a true idealist, who loves nothing so dearly as "great thoughts." She
delights in the phrases and aspirations which touch the heart more
nearly than the head. Though her practice does not always square with
her theory, especially in the field of politics, she is indefatigable
in the praise of freedom, equality, and the other commonplaces of
democracy. The worst is, that she cannot laugh at herself. Her gravity
and sensitiveness still lie, like stumbling-blocks, in her path. She
accepts the grim adulation of such unwise citizens as Mr Carnegie as
no more than her due. If only she could dismiss the flattery of her
admirers with an outburst of