That is, in matters of art and travel, the psychology of the cad.  If, living in Italy, you admire Italian art while distrusting Italian character, you are a tourist, or cad.  If, living in Italy, you admire Italian art while despising Italian religion, you are a tourist, or cad.  It does not matter how many years you have lived there.  Tourists will often live a long time in hotels without discovering the nationality of the waiters.  Englishmen will often live a long time in Italy without discovering the nationality of the Italians.  But the test is simple.  If you admire what Italians did without admiring Italians—­you are a cheap tripper.

The same, of course, applies much nearer home.  I have remarked elsewhere that country shopkeepers are justly offended by London people, who, coming among them, continue to order all their goods from London.  It is caddish to wink and squint at the colour of a man’s wine, like a wine taster; and then refuse to drink it.  It is equally caddish to wink and squint at the colour of a man’s orchard, like a landscape painter; and then refuse to buy the apples.  It is always an insult to admire a thing and not use it.  But the main point is that one has no right to see Stonehenge without Salisbury Plain and Salisbury:  One has no right to respect the dead Italians without respecting the live ones.  One has no right to visit a Christian society like a diver visiting the deep-sea fishes—­fed along a lengthy tube by another atmosphere, and seeing the sights without breathing the air.  It is very real bad manners.

THE NEW THEOLOGIAN

It is an old story that names do not fit things; it is an old story that the oldest forest is called the New Forest, and that Irish stew is almost peculiar to England.  But these are traditional titles that tend, of their nature, to stiffen; it is the tragedy of to-day that even phrases invented for to-day do not fit it.  The forest has remained new while it is nearly a thousand years old; but our fashions have grown old while they were still new.

The extreme example of this is that when modern wrongs are attacked, they are almost always attacked wrongly.  People seem to have a positive inspiration for finding the inappropriate phrase to apply to an offender; they are always accusing a man of theft when he has been convicted of murder.  They must accuse Sir Edward Carson of outrageous rebellion, when his offence has really been a sleek submission to the powers that be.  They must describe Mr. Lloyd George as using his eloquence to rouse the mob, whereas he has really shown considerable cleverness in damping it down.  It was probably under the same impulse towards a mysterious misfit of names that people denounced Dr. Inge as “the Gloomy Dean.”