o comfort. There is also what is
so large a part of comfort; carelessness. The undergraduate breaks
windows because he does not care about windows, not because he does care
about more fresh air like a hygienist, or about more light like a German
poet. Still less does he heroically smash a hundred windows because they
come between him and the voice of Mrs. Asquith. But least of all does he
do it because he seriously prides himself on the energy apart from its
aim, and on the will-power that carries it through. He is not 'bound' to
smash the windows, even in the sense of being bent upon it. He is not
bound at all but rather relaxed; and his violence is not only a
relaxation but a laxity. Finally, this is shown in the fact that he only
smashes windows when he is in the mood to smash windows; when some
fortunate conjunction of stars and all the tints and nuances of nature
whisper to him that it would be well to smash windows. But the American
is always ready, at any moment, to waste his energies on the wilder and
more suicidal course of going to lectures. And this is because to him
such excitement is not a mood but a moral ideal. As I note in another
connection, much of the English mystery would be clear to Americans if
they understood the word 'mood.' Englishmen are very moody, especially
when they smash windows. But I doubt if many Americans understand
exactly what we mean by the mood; especially the passive mood.

It is only by trying to get some notion of all this that an Englishman
can enjoy the final crown and fruit of all international friendship;
which is really liking an American to be American. If we only think that
parts of him are excellent because parts of him are English, it would be
far more sensible to stop at home and possibly enjoy the society of a
whole complete Englishman. But anybody who does understand this can take
the same pleasure in an American being American that he does in a
thunderbolt being swift and a barometer being sensitive. He can see that
a vivid sensibility and vigilance really radiate outwards through all
the ramifications of machinery and even of materialism. He can see that
the American uses his great practical powers upon very small
provocation; but he can also see that there is a kind of sense of
honour, like that of a duellist, in his readiness to be provoked.
Indeed, there is some parallel between the American man of action,
however vulgar his aims, and the old feudal idea of the g