at hotels, see nothing but the broadly public aspect of things, and the
impression left upon you will be one of hard egoism, of gruffness and
sullenness; in a word, of everything that contrasts most strongly with
the ideal of social and civic life. And yet, as a matter of fact, no
nation possesses in so high a degree the social and civic virtues. The
unsociable Englishman, quotha? Why, what country in the world can show
such multifarious, vigorous and cordial co-operation, in all ranks, but
especially, of course, among the intelligent, for ends which concern the
common good? Unsociable! Why, go where you will in England you can
hardly find a man--nowadays, indeed, scarce an educated woman--who does
not belong to some alliance, for study or sport, for municipal or
national benefit, and who will not be seen, in leisure time, doing his
best as a social being. Take the so-called sleepy market-town; it is
bubbling with all manner of associated activities, and these of the quite
voluntary kind, forms of zealously united effort such as are never dreamt
of in the countries supposed to be eminently "social." Sociability does
not consist in a readiness to talk at large with the first comer. It is
not dependent upon natural grace and suavity; it is compatible, indeed,
with thoroughly awkward and all but brutal manners. The English have
never (at all events, for some two centuries past) inclined to the purely
ceremonial or mirthful forms of sociability; but as regards every prime
interest of the community--health and comfort, well-being of body and of
soul--their social instinct is supreme.

Yet it is so difficult to reconcile this indisputable fact with that
other fact, no less obvious, that your common Englishman seems to have no
geniality. From the one point of view, I admire and laud my fellow
countryman; from the other, I heartily dislike him and wish to see as
little of him as possible. One is wont to think of the English as a
genial folk. Have they lost in this respect? Has the century of science