It is different with Americans in whom idealism and materialism dispute every inch of the ground. A Texan professor, sent by the American Peace Commission to investigate conditions in Germany, published in “The North American Review,” May, 1922, a paper on “American Ideals and Traditions,” which was widely quoted as embodying a clear and fervid spirit of hopefulness, much needed in these disillusioned days. The writer took the high ground that Americans were the first people in the world “to make the spirit of disinterested human service the measure of a nation as well as of a man. What is now termed American humanitarianism is but the American spirit of philanthropy at home, translated into international relations.” This “simple historical fact” is the key to all our actions. “The entrance of America into the Great War was not a species of interruption in the normal flow of its idealism; but was the irresistible on-pressing of the great current of our ‘will to human service.’” One wonders if this particular idealist remembers what happened in Europe, in the United States, and on the high seas, between July, 1914, and April, 1917? Does he recall those thirty-two months, close-packed with incidents of such an order that their cumulative weight broke down our hardy resistance to “service,” and drove us slowly but splendidly into action? Great deeds are based on great emotions; but the conflicting emotions of that period are not accurately described as “irresistible.” The best of them were too long and too successfully resisted. We gain no clear impression of events by thinking in ornamental terms. Headlines are one thing, and history is another. “In judging others,” says Thomas à Kempis, “a man usually toileth in vain. For the most part he is mistaken, and he easily sinneth. But in judging and scrutinizing himself, he always laboureth with profit.” The continued use of the word “entangling” is to be regretted. It arouses an excess of uneasiness in cautious souls. All alliances from marriage up--or down--must necessarily entangle. The anchorites of Thebais are the only examples we have of complete emancipation from human bonds. That simple and beautiful thing, minding our own affairs and leaving our neighbours to mind theirs, is unhappily not possible for allies. Neither is a keen and common desire for peace a sufficient basis for agreement. Peace must have terms, and terms require a basis of their own--justice, reason, and the limited gains which are based on mutual concessions. “Whether we are peaceful depends upon whether others are provocative.” Mr. W. H. Mallock tells us a pleasant story of an old Devonshire woman who was bidden by the parson to be “conciliating” to her husband. “I labour for peace, sir,” was the spirited reply. “But when I speak to he thereof, he directly makes hisself ready for battle.”