cture her--much as she undoubtedly enjoys doing so.
England's long-standing policy of commercial greed, leading to political
grab in every part of the world; her infidelity in late years towards
small peoples, like the Boers and the Persians; her neglect of treaty
obligations and silence about them when they do not suit her; her most
dubious alliance with a military despotism like Russia: all render it
impossible for her to accuse Germany. The extraordinary thing is that in
the face of such prevarications as these, which are patent to the whole
world, Britain at any moment of serious crisis always comes forward
with the air of utmost sincerity and in an almost saintly pose as the
champion of political morality! How is it? The world laughs and talks of
_heuchlerei_ and _cant Britannique_. But I almost think (perhaps I
stretch a point in order to save the credit of my country) that the real
cause is not so much British hypocrisy as British _stupidity_--stupidity
which keeps our minds in watertight compartments and prevents us
perceiving how confused and inconsistent our own judgments are and how
insincere they appear to our neighbours. At any rate, whether the cause
is pure hypocrisy or pure stupidity, or whether a Scotch mixture of
these, it cannot be denied that its result is most irritating to
decent-minded people.

It is curious how a certain strain or vein of temperament, like that
just mentioned, will run through a nation's whole life, and colour its
actions in all departments, recognized and commented on by the whole
outside world, and yet remain unobserved by the nation itself.

Every one who has known the Germans at home--even years back--has been
conscious of a certain strain in the Teutonic character which has had a
like bearing in the German national life. How shall I describe it? It is
a certain want of tact, unperceptiveness--a kind of overbearing
simplicity of mind. Whether it be in the train or the hotel or the
private house, the German does not always seem to see the personal
situation. Whether you prefer to talk or remain silent, whether you wish
the window open or shut, whether you desire to partake of such and such
a dish or whether you don't--of such little matters he (or she) seems
unaware. Perhaps it is that the Teutonic mind is so vigorous that it
overrides you without being conscious of doing so, or that it is so
convinced of its own Tightness; or perhaps it is that the scientific
type of mind, d