ut education, without experience,
without responsibility or restraint. What Mommsen writes of Cicero
applies to them: "Cicero was a journalist in the worst sense of the
term, over-rich in words as he himself confesses, and beyond all
imagination poor in thought."

No one of these journals pretends to such power or such influence as
certain great dailies in America and in England. They have not the
means at their command to buy much cable or telegraphic news, and
lacking a press tariff for telegrams, they are the more hampered. The
German temperament, and the civil-service and political close-corporation
methods, make it difficult for the journalist to go far,
either socially or politically. The German has been trained in a
severe school to seek knowledge, not to look for news, and he does not
make the same demands, therefore, upon his newspaper.

German relations with the outside world are of an industrial and
commercial kind, and until very lately the German has not been a
traveller, and is not now an explorer, and their colonies are
unimportant; consequently there is no very keen interest on the part
of the bulk of the people in foreign affairs. Even Sir Edward Grey's
answering speech on the Morocco question did not appear in full in
Berlin until the following day, though Germany had roused itself to an
unusual pitch of excitement and expectancy.

As the Germans are not yet political animals, so their newspapers
reflect an artificial political enthusiasm. Society, too, is as little
organized as politics. There are no great figures in their social
world. A Beau Brummel, a d'Orsay, a Lady Palmerston, a Lady
Londonderry, a Duke of Devonshire, a Gladstone, a Disraeli, a
Rosebery, would be impossible in Germany, especially if they were in
opposition to the party in power. When a chancellor or other minister
is dismissed by the Kaiser, he simply disappears. He does not add to
the weight of the opposition, but ceases to exist politically. This
has two bad results: it does not strengthen the criticism of the
administration, and it makes the office-holder very loath to leave
office, and to surrender his power. An ex-cabinet officer in America
or in England remains a valuable critic, but an ex-chancellor in
Germany becomes a social recluse, a political Trappist. Even the
leading political figures are after all merely shadowy servants of the
Emperor. They represent neither themselves nor the people, and such
subserviency kil