But he would still be called Superintendent of Public Buildings and Grounds, and the Most Puissant Over-lord of the Imperial Plutocracy would still be called President of the United States. And so nobody would in the least mind. If the waffle is named “Hot Waffle,” only a carping, croaking pessimist notes that it is stone cold. Such are the _surface_ indications. But surface indications are not infallible; they have been known to be unimportant and wholly misleading. CHAPTER VIII AND EUROPE LAUGHS An attaché of one of the Continental Embassies to the King of England was dining at the Carlton with an American, an old friend of his. The room was filled with English and Americans. Almost all the English were men and women of title or rank, or both. Almost all the Americans were well known both at home and abroad because of their wealth, their fondness for display, and their intimacies and relationships by marriage with the aristocratic caste of Europe. “You Americans are popular here,” said the diplomat. “Yes,” assented the American. “And on the Continent also,” said the diplomat. “Yes,” replied the American. “How the German Emperor does love us--he is almost as enthusiastic about us as is King Edward.” “You are popular,” went on the diplomat, “and very unpopular. You were never so popular nor so unpopular.” “You mean we are unpopular because of the American trade invasion?” “Not at all. That is a trifling matter. It concerns only the politicians and a few manufacturers and the farmers, and does not concern them very deeply. No--let me explain. Formerly we--and when I say ‘we’ I mean the upper classes of Europe, those which still rule, despite all this talk about the progress of Democracy--formerly we feared you; we pretended to despise you, but in fact we were afraid. You were the great experiment in Democracy, that is, in anarchy--in the rule of the masses, the mob. Your success meant serious trouble for us, if not the handwriting on the wall, because our masses were always thinking of you.” Here the diplomat smiled peculiarly and glanced round the room. “Now all that has been changed,” he went on. “Europe and America are better acquainted. We no longer fear you. Why should we?” And again he paused to let his glance travel round the room, finally to rest with good-humored satire upon the American’s face. “Yes--we understand you better. Our fears have been proved groundless, our suspicions have been justified. Your new path, after making a wide bend, has returned into the old historic highway of caste. And so our upper class, which hated you, now--well, it neither loves nor admires you, but it honors and courts you. It laughs a little at your pretensions to birth. But it respects the solid foundation of your aristocracy--wealth. For, no matter what we may pretend, not blood, but money, wealth, is the essence of aristocracy. As for our masses, that once looked up to you as their ideal----” He shrugged his shoulders.