It will not have escaped you, at all events, that for four years the various branches of the English-speaking peoples have been credited with all the virtues――a love of liberty, humanity, and justice has, as it were, been patented for them on both sides of the Atlantic, and under the Southern Cross, till one has come to listen with a sort of fascinated terror for those three words to tinkle from the tongue. I am prepared to sacrifice a measure of the truth sooner than pronounce them to-night. Let me rather speak of those lower qualities which I think we English-speaking peoples possess in a conspicuous degree: Commonsense and Energy. From those vulgar attributes, I am sure, the historian of the far future will say that the English-speaking era has germinated; and that by those vulgar attributes it will flourish. Deep in the American spirit and in the English spirit is a curious intense realism――sometimes very highly camouflaged by hot air――an instinct for putting the finger on the button of life, and pressing it there till the bell rings. We are so extraordinarily successful that we may expect the historian of the far future to write: ‘The English-speaking races were so rapid in their subjugation of the forces of Nature, so prodigal of inventions, so eager in their use of them, so extremely practical, and altogether so successful, that the only thing they missed was――happiness.’ When I read of some great new American invention, or of a Lord Leverhulme converting an island of Lewis into a commercial Paradise, I confess to trembling. Gentlemen, it is a melancholy fact that the complete man does not live by invention and trade alone. At the risk of being laughed out of Paradise, I dare put in a plea for Beauty. Both our peoples, indeed, are so severely practical that I do feel we run the risk of getting machine-made, and coming actually to look down on those who give themselves to anything so unpractical as the love of Beauty. Now, I venture to think that the spirit of the old builders of Seville cathedral: ‘Let us make us a church such as the world has never seen before!’ ought to inspire us in these days too. ‘But it does, my dear Sir.’ I shall be answered: ‘We make flying machines, and iron foundries, Palace hotels, stock-yards, self-playing pianos, film pictures, cocktails, and ladies’ hats, such as the world has never seen before. A fig for the Giralda, the Sphynx, Shakespeare, and Michael Angelo! They did not elevate the lot of man. We are for invention, industry, and trade.’ Far be it from me to run down any of those things, so excellent in moderation; but since I solemnly aver that man’s greatest quality is the sense of proportion, I feel that if he neglects Beauty (which is but proportion elegantly cooked)――the ‘result of perfect economy’ Emerson had it――he sags backwards, no matter how inventive and commercially successful he may be.