not wonderful that we have so much satirical writing in
England, with such objects of satire. It may be as little wonderful that the
satire has no effect. Immense wealth and native obtuseness combine to disfigure
us with this aspect of over-ripeness, not to say monstrosity. I fall in love
with the poor, and think they have a cause to be pleaded, when I look at those
people. We scoff at the vanity of the French, but it is a graceful vanity;
pardonable compared with ours.«
    »I 've read all that a hundred times,« quoth Tuckham bluntly.
    »So have I. I speak of it because I see it. We scoff at the simplicity of
the Germans.«
    »The Germans live in simple fashion, because they 're poor. French vanity 's
pretty and amusing. I don't know whether it 's deep in them, for I doubt their
depth; but I know it 's in their joints. The first spring of a Frenchman comes
of vanity. That you can't say of the English. Peace to all! but I abhor
cosmopolitanism. No man has a firm foothold who pretends to it. None despises
the English in reality. Don't be misled, Miss Halkett. We 're solid: that is the
main point. The world feels our power, and has confidence in our good faith. I
ask for no more.«
    »With Germans we are supercilious Celts; with Frenchmen we are sneering
Teutons: - Can we be loved, Mr. Tuckham?«
    »That 's a quotation from my friend Lydiard. Loved? No nation ever was loved
while it lived. As Lydiard says, it may be a good beast or a bad, but a beast it
is. A nation 's much too big for refined feelings and affections. It must be
powerful or out of the way, or down it goes. When a nation 's dead you may love
it; but I don't see the use of dying to be loved. My aim for my country is to
have the land respected. For that purpose we must have power; for power wealth;
for wealth industry; for industry internal peace: therefore no agitation, no
artificial divisions. All 's plain in history and fact, so long as we do not
obtrude sentimentalism. Nothing mixes well with that stuff - except poetical
ideas!«
    Contrary to her anticipation, Cecilia was thrown more into companionship
with Mr. Tuckham than with Mr. Austin; and though it often vexed her, she