What are the symptoms of decay in England?  Unless the accumulation of wealth is a symptom of decay, I do not see many.  I look at the people themselves.  It seems to me that never in their history were they more full of vigor.  See what travelers, explorers, adventurers they are.  See what sportsmen, in every part of the globe, how much they endure, and how hale and jolly they are—­women as well as men.  The race, certainly, has not decayed.  And look at letters.  It may be said that this is not the age of pure literature—­and I’m sure I hope the English patent for producing machine novels will not be infringed—­but the English language was never before written so vigorously, so clearly, and to such purpose.  And this is shown even in the excessive refinement and elaboration of trifles, the minutia of reflection, the keenness of analysis, the unrelenting pursuit of every social topic into subtleties untouched by the older essayists.  And there is still more vigor, without affectation, in scientific investigation, in the daily conquests made in the realm of social economy, the best methods of living and getting the most out of life.  Art also keeps pace with luxury, and shows abundant life and promise for the future.

I believe, from these and other considerations, that this vigorous people will find a way out of its present embarrassment, and a way out without retreating.  For myself, I like to see the English sort of civilization spreading over the world rather than the Russian or the French.  I hope England will hang on to the East, and not give it over to the havoc of squabbling tribes, with a dozen religions and five hundred dialects, or to the military despotism of an empire whose morality is only matched by the superstition of its religion.

The relations of England and the United States are naturally of the first interest to us.  Our love and our hatred have always been that of true relatives.  For three-quarters of a century our ‘amour propre’ was constantly kept raw by the most supercilious patronage.  During the past decade, when the quality of England’s regard has become more and more a matter of indifference to us, we have been the subject of a more intelligent curiosity, of increased respect, accompanied with a sincere desire to understand us.  In the diplomatic scale Washington still ranks below the Sublime Porte, but this anomaly is due to tradition, and does not represent England’s real estimate of the status of the republic.  There is, and must be, a good deal of selfishness mingled in our friendship—­patriotism itself being a form of selfishness—­but our ideas of civilization so nearly coincide, and we have so many common aspirations for humanity that we must draw nearer together, notwithstanding old grudges and present differences in social structure.  Our intercourse is likely to be closer, our business relations will become more inseparable.  I can conceive of nothing so lamentable for the progress of the world as a quarrel between these two English-speaking peoples.