to our “American experiment,” I will not undertake to say.  The South furnishes a very interesting illustration in this connection.  When the civil war broke down the barriers of intellectual non-intercourse behind which the South had ensconced itself, it was found to be in a colonial condition.  Its libraries were English libraries, mostly composed of old English literature.  Its literary growth stopped with the reign of George iii.  Its latest news was the Spectator and the Tatler.  The social order it covered was that of monarchical England, undisturbed by the fiery philippics of Byron or Shelley or the radicalism of a manufacturing age.  Its chivalry was an imitation of the antiquated age of lords and ladies, and tournaments, and buckram courtesies, when men were as touchy to fight, at the lift of an eyelid or the drop of the glove, as Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and as ready for a drinking-bout as Christopher North.  The intellectual stir of the North, with its disorganizing radicalism, was rigorously excluded, and with it all the new life pouring out of its presses.  The South was tied to a republic, but it was not republican, either in its politics or its social order.  It was, in its mental constitution, in its prejudices, in its tastes, exactly what you would expect a people to be, excluded from the circulation of free ideas by its system of slavery, and fed on the English literature of a century ago.  I dare say that a majority of its reading public, at any time, would have preferred a monarchical system and a hierarchy of rank.

To return to England.  I have said that English domination usually carries the best elements of civilization.  Yet it must be owned that England has pursued her magnificent career in a policy often insolent and brutal, and generally selfish.  Scarcely any considerations have stood in the way of her trade and profit.  I will not dwell upon her opium culture in India, which is a proximate cause of famine in district after district, nor upon her forcing the drug upon China—­a policy disgraceful to a Christian queen and people.  We have only just got rid of slavery, sustained so long by Biblical and official sanction, and may not yet set up as critics.  But I will refer to a case with which all are familiar—­England’s treatment of her American colonies.  In 1760 and onward, when Franklin, the agent of the colonies of Pennsylvania and Massachusetts, was cooling his heels in lords’ waiting-rooms in London, America was treated exactly as Ireland was—­that is, discriminated against in every way; not allowed to manufacture; not permitted to trade with other nations, except under the most vexatious restrictions; and the effort was continued to make her a mere agricultural producer and a dependent.  All that England cared for us was that we should be a market for her manufactures.  This same selfishness has been the keynote of her policy down to the present day, except as the force of circumstances has modified it.  Steadily pursued, it has contributed largely to make England the monetary and industrial master of the world.