at times. We are judged by our public acts. But
because of our professed idealism we are hailed as hypocrites,
appalling hypocrites. And yet those public acts and that idealism are
distinct. Both are authentic, and neither contradicts the other. We
fastened on Germany a shameful treaty at Versailles. But the idealists
never agreed to it, and do not do so now. Our idealism is genuine
enough and it is, indeed, the germ of Europe's hope. But for that the
outlook would be blacker still.

All that has been done to ease the application of the treaty has been
done at England's instance. We stand as wardens against the
infringement of the treaty, as for instance in the Silesian attack.
Indeed, the general tendency of England's policy is to save the
integrity of Germany and give her a chance to rehabilitate herself
among the nations.

The sophisticated educated class in Germany smiles in superior
knowledge, ascribing to us selfish motives of one kind or another. The
contempt for Englishmen passing through the country is somewhat
brutally expressed in the phrase _valuta-Englander_, the currency
Englishman, who is probably a nobody at home but swaggers here on the
difference of the exchange of the mark and the pound sterling. The new
educated class has always found difficulty in being tolerant and in
recognizing who were its potential enemies or friends. But I noticed
that the working class had less pre-judgment and was more open-hearted.
The working class grasped the truth of the situation. It was not
merely a desire to flatter and curry favour that prompted their
attitude.

"France is our real enemy--not England," was the frequent greeting of
the ex-soldier working man who grinned and asked if I'd been a soldier,
too, and on what front. Rank and file on both sides conceived a
respect for one another in the war, which the educated class somehow
missed. Perhaps the educated class in Germany would be more indulgent
if they were not so hard hit financially. The working man still has
money, has, indeed, a flattering number of marks in his pocket. When
he has not so much money he is as morose as his educated brother.

In Saxony, where an industrial depression not half so deep as that of
England is being felt, you have a strong Communist movement. The
devitalized masses of Leipzig are not so brotherly as the Berliners.
The signs of street-fighting are visible in the many cracked and broken
windows of shops, and t