These eminent satirists are part of the society they condemn. They know it well. And yet we would fain find comfort in the summing up of another who also knew it well. "Society," says Emerson, "is something too good for banning, too bad for blessing. In attempting to settle its character, we are reminded of a tradition in pagan mythology. 'I overheard Jove,' said Silenus, 'talking of destroying the earth. He said he had failed; they were all rogues and vixens going from bad to worse. Minerva said she hoped not; they were only ridiculous little creatures with this odd circumstance,--if you called them bad, they would appear so; if good, they would appear good,--and there was no one person among them which would not puzzle her owl--much more all Olympus--to know whether it was fundamentally good or bad.'" But whether or no society be fundamentally good or bad, its doings have been in all ages interesting. Max O'Rell declares that the upper ten thousand are alike all over the world; that the million only--as affording original types--are interesting. He is wrong. The world cares more for the fortunate few than for the ordinary mass of mankind. Why do we find in every journal of the day long columns filled with the comings and goings, the up-risings and down-sittings of our wealthy classes? Why do readers never complain of the monotonous round of their travels? People prick up their ears and listen whenever the word "society" is uttered, although fully aware that half we read is invented to meet the hunger of the multitude for society news. Everybody wants a glimpse of that gallant vessel bearing the elect so gayly down the stream of time,--the stream so full of bitter waters to many. They are more interesting, these voyagers in the painted pleasure boat, than the poor man who shades his eyes with his rough hand to gaze as they pass. They are even more interesting than the crowd running along to cheer, or swimming in the wake for the possible chance of being taken on board. There they go!--the happy hundreds--a "merry chanter" at the prow, a merry crew in the rigging; music, song, the flash of jewels, the perfume of flowers mingling with everyday sights, and sounds of everyday life. We may assure ourselves that it is possible to be happy on board some other vessel, with a better pilot, and bound for a better port, but life is serious on that vessel. We like to be amused, and are keenly interested in those gayer voyagers. PART II CHAPTER I THE LITTLE CLOUD It seems to have been hard for England to take her American colonies seriously. "The gentlemen of the opposition on the other side of the water" were regarded as inferiors, or, at best, troublesome children, to be dealt with accordingly, and taught to know--and keep--their places.