efore, content with
himself. He has, therefore, kept much of his mediaeval impedimenta, his
dukes and marquesses and all that they imply--his outworn ceremonies and
his mediaeval disregard of his social inferiors. Nothing is well done in
this Kingdom for the big public, but only for the classes. The railway
stations have no warm waiting rooms. The people pace the platform till
the train comes, and milord sits snugly wrapt up in his carriage till
his footman announces the approach of the train. And occasional
discontent is relieved by emigration to the Colonies. If any man becomes
weary of his restrictions he may go to Australia and become a gentleman.
The remarkable loyalty of the Colonies has in it something of a
servant's devotion to his old master.

Now this trying time of war and the threat and danger of extinction are
bringing--have in fact already brought--the conviction that many changes
must come. The first sensible talk about popular education ever heard
here is just now beginning. Many a gentleman has made up his mind to try
to do with less than seventeen servants for the rest of his life since
he now _has_ to do with less. Privilege, on which so large a part of
life here rests, is already pretty well shot to pieces. A lot of old
baggage will never be recovered after this war: that's certain. During a
little after-dinner speech in a club not long ago I indulged in a
pleasantry about excessive impedimenta. Lord Derby, Minister of War and
a bluff and honest aristocrat, sat near me and he whispered to
me--"That's me." "Yes," I said, "that's you," and the group about us
made merry at the jest. The meaning of this is, they now joke about what
was the most solemn thing in life three years ago.

None of this conveys the idea I am trying to explain--the change in the
English point of view and outlook--a half century's change in less than
three years, radical and fundamental change, too. The mother of the Duke
of X came to see me this afternoon, hobbling on her sticks and feeble,
to tell me of a radiant letter she had received from her granddaughter
who has been in Washington visiting the Spring Rices. "It's all very
wonderful," said the venerable lady, "and my granddaughter actually
heard the President make a speech!" Now, knowing this lady and knowing
her son, the Duke, and knowing how this girl, his daughter, has been
brought up, I dare swear that three years ago not one of them would have
crossed the street to hea