“No!” cried Mr. Kennedy.  “An Englishmen cannot understand this international wisdom.  A German’s character is different; he can easily change his country, the Englishman cannot.  But you must excuse me,” he continued, recollecting himself.  “You wounded my national honour, and I forgot the situation in which we are.  Of course, I had no intention of insulting you.”

“There is some truth in what you say,” replied Heideck, seriously, “but allow me to explain.  Our German fatherland, in past centuries, was always the theatre of the battles of all the peoples of Europe.  At that time few of the German princes were conscious of any German national feeling; they were the representatives of narrow-minded dynastic interests.  Thus our German people grew up without the consciousness of a great and common fatherland.  Our German self-consciousness is no older than Bismarck.  But we have become large-hearted, generous-minded, by having had to submit to foreign peoples and customs.  Our religious feeling and our patriotism are of wider scope than those of others.  Hence, I believe that, now that we have been for a generation occupied with our material strength and are politically united, our universal culture summons us to undertake the further development of civilisation, which hitherto has been chiefly indebted to the French and English.”

The old gentleman did not answer at once.  He sat immersed in thought, and a considerable time elapsed before he spoke.

“Anyone can keep raising the standpoint of his view of things.  It is like ascending the mountains there.  From each higher range the view becomes more comprehensive, while the details of the panorama gradually disappear.  Naturally, to one looking down from so lofty a standpoint, all political interests shrivel up to insignificant nothings, and then patriotism no longer exists.  But I think that we are first of all bound to work in the sphere in which we have once been placed.  A man who neglects his wife and children in the desire to benefit the world by his ideas, neglects the narrowest sphere of his duties.  But in that case the welfare of his own people, of his own state, must be for every man the highest objects of his efforts; then only, starting from his own nation, may his wishes have a higher aim.  I cannot respect anyone who abandons the soil of patriotism in order to waste his time on visionary schemes in the domain of politics, to wax enthusiastic over universal peace and to call all men brothers.”

“And yet,” said Edith, “this is the doctrine of Christianity.”

“Of theoretical, not practical Christianity,” eagerly rejoined the Englishman.  “I esteem the old Roman Cato, who took his life when he saw his country’s freedom disappearing, and England would never have grown great had not many of her sons been Catos.”