sion that they do
understand it. Dollars stood for America as frogs stood for France;
because it was necessary to connect particular foreigners with
something, or it would be so easy to confuse a Moor with a Montenegrin
or a Russian with a Red Indian. The only cure for this sort of satisfied
familiarity is the shock of something really unfamiliar. When people can
see nothing at all in American democracy except a Yankee running after a
dollar, then the only thing to do is to trip them up as they run after
the Yankee, or run away with their notion of the Yankee, by the obstacle
of certain odd and obstinate facts that have no relation to that notion.
And, as a matter of fact, there are a number of such obstacles to any
such generalisation; a number of notable facts that have to be
reconciled somehow to our previous notions. It does not matter for this
purpose whether the facts are favourable or unfavourable, or whether the
qualities are merits or defects; especially as we do not even understand
them sufficiently to say which they are. The point is that we are
brought to a pause, and compelled to attempt to understand them rather
better than we do. We have found the one thing that we did not expect;
and therefore the one thing that we cannot explain. And we are moved to
an effort, probably an unsuccessful effort, to explain it.

For instance, Americans are very unpunctual. That is the last thing that
a critic expects who comes to condemn them for hustling and haggling and
vulgar ambition. But it is almost the first fact that strikes the
spectator on the spot. The chief difference between the humdrum English
business man and the hustling American business man is that the hustling
American business man is always late. Of course there is a great deal of
difference between coming late and coming too late. But I noticed the
fashion first in connection with my own lectures; touching which I
could heartily recommend the habit of coming too late. I could easily
understand a crowd of commercial Americans not coming to my lectures at
all; but there was something odd about their coming in a crowd, and the
crowd being expected to turn up some time after the appointed hour. The
managers of these lectures (I continue to call them lectures out of
courtesy to myself) often explained to me that it was quite useless to
begin properly until about half an hour after time. Often people were
still coming in three-quarters of an hour or even an ho