century and a half. The White races had, in the year 1900, established a decisive supremacy all over the globe; many believed that the time was not far distant when the few remaining independent colored nations would fall under the sway of one or other of the competing White peoples of European descent. By great good fortune, aided by the sterling qualities of her people, Great Britain obtained the lion's share of these conquests. The world viewed with astonishment the spectacle of a comparatively small island whose flag waved over one-quarter of the surface of the habitable globe, and over one-quarter of its inhabitants. The question which I was obliged to ask was whether this almost miraculous state of things is likely to continue indefinitely. The fate of other empires, at one time almost as imposing as the British, had to be considered. Holland and Spain were not large enough to remain the nuclei of world-empires; and Spain is larger than the British Isles. Then it was necessary to observe that in the present century at least one non-European people-Japan-has been able to repel the aggression of a great European military Power, and has taken a place as a Power of the first class. No one now supposes that Eastern Asia will ever be a dependency of any White nation. Our anxiety is not how to subjugate the so-called Yellow races, but how to prevent them from ousting the Whites from White territory by economic competition. These facts seem to indicate that the expansion of the Whites, and not least of the AngloSaxons, has almost reached its term.

On the other hand, there seems at present to be no reason why the British Empire should not hold together as a loose federation, a League of Nations in being. Our race has a political genius which has been denied to the Spanish. To the political philosopher, the Constitutions of the United States and the British Empire are by far the most interesting experiments in nation-building since the Roman Empire, and the difficulties caused by the great distance of some of the Dominions grow less every year. On the whole, the tendencies which make for continued union and closer relations seem at present to be stronger than the fissiparous tendencies. It would be rash, I think, to speak with

more confidence than this. But the supremacy of the English language and institutions seems to be secure for a long time to come, in spite of the diminishing fecundity of the Anglo-Saxons both in the British Empire and in the United States. If England one day ceases to be the political centre of a World Power, it will remain, perhaps even more than it is now, the spiritual home and ancestral hearth of a large section of the human race.

I have spoken very freely in my book about our relations with the United States. There is no warmer advocate of Anglo-American friendship than I am. But there are pleasing illusions about America in my country, which I thought it necessary to dissipate, for they may lead to mistaken political action. Foreigners will never understand the English character unless they realize that though we are not at all emotional, we are the most sentimental people in Europe. The French, on the contrary, are very emotional, and inwardly as hard as nails. We are so sentimental as to be very reluctant to admit that our separation from our former colonies is final and complete. In Whitaker's Almanack, the leading gazetteer of Great Britain, the world is divided into three parts the British Empire, the United States, and Foreign Countries. America is not one of the Foreign Countries. A few years ago an American gentleman wished to take a house in London. He found what he wanted, but saw a difficulty. "I see there is a clause in the lease which forbids the leaseholder to sublet to a foreigner." The house-agent smiled. "That does not apply to you, sir," he said. From the English point of view, nothing could be more natural. But if my countrymen fancy that the same feeling exists on the other side of the Atlantic, they are very much mistaken. We in England would consider war with the United States a shocking kind of civil war; I do not think that the Americans would feel anything of the kind. To us, an alliance with America would be the natural consequence of unity of origin, of language, of religion, of institutions, and of sympathies. The two nations stand together for popular government, for religious toleration, and for a conviction that international relations can be and ought to be

moralized. Many Englishmen can be heard to say, "Why should we not cut ourselves loose from entangling alliances on the Continent of Europe, and form closer ties with our natural friends and kinsfolk, the Americans?" Unfortunately, this policy, attractive as it is to us, is impossible. We could not rely on American help if a coalition in Europe were formed to destroy us. This is the fact, and we ought not to deceive ourselves.

I have been rather pleased to receive indignant letters from Americans, reproaching me for doubting the friendship and good-will of America for England. But will any well-informed American deny that these friendly voices are in a small minority? The British visitor to America usually sees only the Atlantic States, where he is made to feel very much at home. He is received with charming hospitality, and so far forgets that he is in a foreign land that he is not always sufficiently careful not to offend American susceptibilities. But if he travels further west, he finds himself, I am told, in a very different atmosphere, and is fortunate if he does not hear comments upon the "Britishers" which make his blood boil. He finds everywhere a strange isolation from European interests, tempered only by an active dislike of one European nation-his own. So at least I have been told by several travellers.

But even if this is untrue, or overstated, things happen sometimes which cannot be explained away. One such incident sank deep into the minds of Englishmen. It is recorded in the reminiscences of Ambassador Page. During the war, before America came in, our government thought it vitally important to stop the shipping of supplies for Germany from the United States. A vessel called (if I remember rightly) the Dacia, set out from an American port laden with contraband. The sailing of this ship was intended to be a test case. Would the British dare to stop it or not? The American Government let Sir Edward Grey know very plainly that they would regard the seizure of the Dacia as an unfriendly act, a phrase of sinister meaning in diplomacy. What was to be done? Were we to risk a quarrel with America, or were we to allow our blockade to be reduced to a nullity? Mr. Page

found the way out. Why, he suggested, should not the Dacia be seized by a French cruiser? Sir Edward Grey took the hint. The vessel was stopped, taken to a French port, and her cargo confiscated. Not a dog in Washington barked! I think it is not strange that this incident made a deep impression on the minds of English people, and gave food for very unpleasant reflections.

The causes of this ill-feeling are often discussed here. Three in particular are mentioned. First, the steady malignity of the Irish-Americans, who are not only very numerous, but are, we are told, more influential in American politics even than their numbers justify. The Irish vote, it is said, is angled for by both political parties, and any courtesy or good feeling shown to England would probably lose it. Next, the hostility of the Hearst newspapers, which are believed to have an enormous sale in the Middle West. Lastly, it is said that the school-books on which young America is educated always represent England as the villain of the piece. I am told that the newer educational books are less unfair, and it is probably a mistake to attach much importance to this cause of unfriendliness.

Some will add that the two nations do not like each other's manners. The Englishman is apt to be stiff if a stranger addresses him in a familiar tone; that is not our way. But I think we are punished for the sins of our grandparents. I should not like an American to see the cartoons in Punch between 1861 and 1865. In the Palmerstonian era we were certainly arrogant; I do not think we are so now. I will venture to add that the Americans would not be so ready to suspect us of airs of superiority if they were not themselves a very modest people at bottom. They do their best to hide it, but sooner or later one finds them out. I was once walking with a charming young American professor, soon, alas, to be removed by an early death. We were strolling through the street of Chipping Campden, a village of noted beauty in the Cotswold country. The vicar passed us, and said courteously: "I see you gentlemen are Americans. May I have the pleasure of showing you my church, which is one of the finest in the country?" My friend was really

troubled; he honestly thought that I should not like being mistaken for an American! A little incident like that throws a great deal of light on the mentality of the two countries. An Englishman no more wishes to change his nationality than he wishes to change his wife, and he is ready to uphold his country against all comers; but he expects a Frenchman or German or American to do the same, and likes him less if he does

not.

I have never asked an intelligent American, who knows England, what he really thinks about my country. It is a question which we never ask. When things are going well, perhaps we do not care much; when they are going ill with us, as they are now, we do not want to hear our troubles discussed by a possibly unsympathetic stranger. I quoted in my book the judgments of Page and Santayana, which gave us great pleasure. These two writers saw us during the war, and their generous appreciation of the way in which we acquitted ourselves through our great ordeal was, I think, well deserved. But at present the Labor question dwarfs all others; and I must repeat my conviction that until the people of England realize that henceforth they must compete with other nations on equal terms-or even on somewhat unfavorable terms, since the load of debt is heavier with us than elsewhere we shall not recover our prosperity, but must acquiesce in going slowly down-hill. I believe American opinion would support this view. The average output of an American workman seems to be far greater than the maximum which our trade-unions permit.

The possible exhaustion of the world's supply of food and of minerals is a very difficult question, and I believe that my anticipation of a coming failure of our coal-fields, based on the calculations of Jevons in about 1865, was partly erroneous. New coal-fields have been discovered, and improved methods of getting coal. It is possible that East Kent will before long become a productive colliery district. There is wheat in Argentina and elsewhere for at least another generation -if we can afford to pay for it. Some think that the wheat-belt in Canada might be extended further north; but

wheat-growing is a risky industry where there is a danger of summer frosts. I have heard dazzling predictions of the future wealth of Australia; but will it ever be gathered by men of our race? The provincial capitals, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Brisbane, Hobart, and Perth are growing rapidly; but the country parts remain undeveloped for want of labor. In New Zealand the population is better distributed.

On the whole, I stick to my prediction that except in North and South America, and to a less extent in Australasia, the era of White expansion has nearly come to an end; and this means that the position of Europe will alter relatively, though not necessarily absolutely, for the worse. The United States will be by far the richest and most powerful country in the world. This prediction should not cause any great discouragement to an Englishman, for it means the increased ascendancy of our language and institutions. Bismarck, asked what he considered the most important fact in modern history, said, "The fact that English is the language of North America." He saw that here was a fact, big with destiny, which reduced his new German Empire, built by blood and iron, to insignificance. It meant the ultimate triumph of Anglo-Saxondom.

It is irritating that one cannot defend a well-considered judgment about future history without being charged with pessimism. If my arguments are bad, let me know where the fallacies are to be found. I have never attempted to prophesy without giving my reasons. The Socialists are annoyed, as I expected them to be; but Dame Nature will not alter her laws to please the Socialists. If there ever was a fruit which was rotten before it was ripe, that fruit is Socialism. State ownership of the means of production has almost always proved wasteful and inefficient. Individual acquisitiveness is not by any means the only incentive to industry, but it is a very important incentive, and when it is withdrawn, slackness invariably appears. Equally mischievous is the system of doles, pensions, and "free" State aid, which has assumed monstrous proportions in England. Man will always become parasitic if he is given the chance.

To return to the question of Anglo

American relations. An alliance is hardly to be thought of, since America needs no allies, and cannot commit herself to go to war in Europe. But if the League of Nations ever becomes a real arbiter in international affairs, America may exercise a decisive influence in preserving peace, which now as always is "the first of British interests." It will also tend to draw into its orbit (I do not mean by annexation) all the other English-speaking countries. Australasia, if threatened with penetration by the Asiatic races, will look for sympathy to the United States. So the world-importance of the Union will steadily grow, especially as South America, which has almost boundless possibilities, will be very much under the control of the great Republic. I see no reason why the relations of this mighty power to England and the British Empire should be anything but friendly. The notion that the American nation is only a hundred and fifty years old will be discarded, and a reasonable pride will be taken in its earlier

history, before the disruption. England will probably be the chief cultural centre of the English-speaking nations, and young men and women will increasingly come to England to finish their education, as young men from all the Mediterranean countries flocked to the university of Athens.

Let who will call this pessimism. When I look at a map of the world, and see how small a spot is the little island off the northwest coast of Europe, which itself is only a peninsula of the great Asiatic mass, and then consider in what large letters my countrymen have written their name on the earth's surface, I am much more inclined to be vainglorious than despondent. Our great daughter nation will surpass us as much as Carthage surpassed Tyre; but bigness is not everything. Attica was no bigger than a small English county; Palestine was about the size of Wales; and the England of Shakespeare might have housed all its inhabitants in half of modern London.